#all it took was me breaking my ankle to upload a chapter who knew

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Side To Side

Chapter 195: Visions of Beauty

Characters: Law, Lammy Rating: Teen Warnings: Suggestive themes, language Notes: :3

~~~~~

“Why do you look so tired?”

Law blinked and moved his gaze up from his fish and chips “I’m not tired.”

“You look tired,” Lammy said, shoving a fry into her mouth. She was having cheesy fries with spicy peppers. He’s never seen Lammy eat that before, at least he didn’t think so. He had a fuzzy memory of sitting in the tavern sharing fries like that with a woman. He supposed it was Lammy because it certainly wasn’t Rose. She wasn’t big on taverns. She never complained about him going to one. There was a specific one that many of the staff from the hospital went to after work, but she never actually went herself.

Law supposed she was rather quiet and conservative. She didn’t really like being in rowdy and loud places. She didn’t really drink that often and she liked a healthy, balanced diet. That was fine, though. Law liked her that way. She was always so sweet when she helped him nurse his hangovers. He had a faint memory of a long forgotten friend who would make fun of him as he was laying in bed with a migraine from drinking one too many from the night before.

“How do I look tired?”

“You’ve got bags under your eyes. Work keeping you up? Did you lose a patient?” Lammy asked with a small frown. Losing patients was always hard. Losing patients in pediatrics was awful.

“No, thankfully. I guess I’m just not getting enough sleep.”

“Your wedding is coming up pretty soon...maybe you're anxious about the money you’re spending on getting everything that Rose wants.”

“Nah, that’s nothing.” Law shrugged. “Maybe I just need to go to bed earlier, it’s not like it will hurt me.”

Lammy hummed. “I am worried about you. You have a high stress job, relationships and weddings cause stress, you’ve been starting to eat worse lately, too.”

“Eat worse? Like what?”

“Like how we eat lunch at this place every week on Sunday. I always get something different, with an elaborate cocktail but you, you always get a house salad, no croutons, with a glass of water. Now you’re eating one of the greasiest meals in the restaurant. Along with soda? I thought you hated soda.”

“I never said I hated it,” he said defensively and took a sip. “I never noticed that I got the same thing. I just got what sounded appealing.” He reached over to take a fry and she smacked his hand.

“Get your own. These are my cheese fries.” She picked up her fruity cocktail and sipped it. “Thanks for coming with me, by the way.”

“To help you pick out a gift for your girlfriend? No problem. It’s what I’m here for. I’m surprised you're not embarrassed.”

“It’s not like I’m taking you pick out sex toys.” Law blushed hotly and glared at his snickering sister. “Sorry, is that not vanilla enough for you?”

“Shut up. There are some things that we do not talk about together.”

“Prude.”

“I will make you buy your own lunch today,” he warned as his sister gleefully laughed. “Can’t believe you just wanted to talk about that out and in the open.”

“Oh god, Law, calm down. I’m just teasing you. You don’t have to take life so seriously. Relax a little. Drink some alcohol, take a chill pill, do some sort of drug.” Law stared at her flatly. “You really are a wet blanket of a brother,” she sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way that I am.”

“I guess,” she shrugged. “I’m just saying you can have a little more fun with your life. Go on a cruise or something.” Law watched the waiter place the bill on the table. “In any case, it doesn’t really matter. I love you the way you are, since I have to and all.”

“Thanks, I suppose.”

Lammy grinned and Law pulled out his wallet. It was time to go shopping he supposed.

~~~~~

“Rose!” Lammy exclaimed in excitement. “Are you coming to hang out with us?”

Rose giggled. “Yes, I wanted to see what you planned on buying for Stella.” She wrapped her arms around Law’s. Law froze for a moment. “Law, are you okay?” She looked up at him curiously.

“Uh,” he coughed. “Yeah.” What was that? Why did he freeze? He was suddenly feeling like he didn’t want any PDA, the idea of being leaned on felt claustrophobic. He swallowed and pulled away, taking her hand instead. This wasn’t nearly as bad. Rose didn’t seem to notice either way. She just squeezed his hand.

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” Law almost made a disgusted noise. “Sweetheart?” What happened to “hon?” Wait. When has Rose ever called him “hon?” “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m tired. I’ve been having some weird dreams lately and it’s keeping me up at night.”

“Really?” Rose said curiously. “I haven’t noticed.”

“It’s because you’ve changed your diet,” Lammy said. “I told you that you’ve been eating weirdly.”

“I guess,” Law grumbled. He supposed he’d have to be more conscious about his food choices again. Eating more salad and drinking less alcohol. Then he’ll stop having dreams about submarines and pirates. He’s also been having a horrible recurring nightmare about losing his family to war. Maybe he needs to talk to a shrink.

“Oh! Look at these!” Lammy interrupted his thought. Rose let go of his hand and rushed over to Lammy. “These are gorgeous heels!”

Law felt himself groan. Another pair of heels? Wait. Another? Rose didn’t own heels. He’s never seen her in anything but flats. He walked over to see a gold pair of heels. There were gold flakes painted on them. He’s sworn he’s seen these before. There was something in the back of his head telling him that he’s seen them before.

“Ugh,” Rose scoffed. “I could never wear heels, they're just too much for me.”

“Well, they’re not too much for me,” Lammy giggled. “Although, I wouldn’t want to wear them all the time. Imagine how messed up your feet would be.” They both giggled and started to talk among themselves.

Law was...bored. He was so bored. Had he always hated shopping? He was the one who suggested that he and Lammy go shopping together, not the other way around, so why did he just want to go home and read? He didn’t feel like being social anymore. Ruby would understand, right?

Wait.

Law blinked and stared at Rose and Lammy. They were laughing and pointing at the items in the shop window. Law covered his forehead with his hand, staring up into the sky.

Who the hell was Ruby?

~~~~~

“I need a break,” Law sighed at Rose. “My head has been foggy lately so I’m just needing to chill.”

“Of course,” Rose smiled brightly. “Why don’t you go to the tavern with some colleagues? That always clears your head. That way we can focus on our wedding. We still have to finish up figuring out the hard details.”

“Yeah.”

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about wedding details. For some reason he didn’t want to even hear “marriage” or “wedding.” He’s been having weird dreams and nightmares every night. He’s been so tense. He wasn’t feeling right.

“Trafalgar, what’s got you so distracted? If you wanted to spend time with Rose, you could’ve.”

“No,” Law shook his head. “I need some “me” time.”

“I hear that,” his friend chuckled. “We all need some “me” time.”

Law nodded and finished his beer. “I’m going to get another.” He stood up and started to walk to the bar. Suddenly, a giggle cut through the noise of the bar.

Law looked over in the direction of the giggle and froze. Law couldn’t rip his eyes away from the woman in the red dress, no matter how badly he knew he needed to. She had long, brown, wavy hair. She wore tall red heels. She was unbelievably tattooed up and had multiple piercings in her ears. She was fucking gorgeous. She was at the pool table with a smirk on her face. She was surrounded by people in jumpsuits, all of them taking bets on who would win the game. He’s never seen them before, but something about them felt familiar. Something felt complete looking at them.

The woman giggled confidently and caught his eye. She blinked before grinning brightly with a small blush on her cheeks. Law felt his heart skip a beat. That smile of hers just completely captured him. Something about that smile told him to never make it stop. He wanted to be the reason she smiled like that. She winked at him and turned her attention back to the pool table. She smirked and sipped a dark colored drink from her glass, leaving a red lip stain on it.

He tried convincing himself to stop staring but he couldn’t. She was so different from what he’s found attractive before but everything about her was so obviously attractive. She looked like he could tell her all his secrets and undisclosed desires. Her brown eyes danced as she giggled at the curly haired woman next to her. He could see him and the woman in red with his head in her lap as she ran her fingers, with manicured nails, through his hair while he read a book. He could see it so clearly and vividly. How could he see that so easily when he didn’t even know what her name was?

Law was unable to ignore the group. He started to walk over to them, the sound of the bar fading out. The overwhelming urge to speak with them was forcing out rational thought. He just had to talk to the woman, he had to know her name.

Someone accidentally bumped into him and he blinked.

“Sorry.” They said boredly.

“Yeah.” Law looked back at the pool table and there was no one there. No trace of the group. Nothing. Was he hallucinating? They seemed so real and familiar. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. What was happening to him?

“Trafalgar, what are you doing?” He heard his friend call him.    

Law scrunched his eyebrows together. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’m just getting another drink. I got distracted on the way.”

“What? You have ADHD or something?”

Law rolled his eyes and walked to the bar, trying to force out that vision out of his mind. He swore that he’s seen that group before…

But where?

~~~~~

“Law,” Ruby giggled. Law brushed his lips against Ruby’s neck causing her to giggle more. Ruby had just returned to their bedroom that evening and kissed his forehead. Law pulled her into him and sat between her knees. He started to kiss her cheeks and neck as she happily giggled at the attention. “Why are you so affectionate today?”

“What? Am I not allowed to be affectionate with you?” Law kissed her lips slowly. Ruby hummed against his lips and smiled. Law pulled her in close. “Do me a favor?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t run off on me.”

“Never,” she said immediately with the sweetest smile. “I love you so much, Law. I would never leave your side.”

“Good.” He kissed her nose.

“Not going to return the sentiment?”

“Nope.”

Ruby tackled him back onto the bed. They both laughed happily and kissed between the giggles. Law had never loved someone the way he loved Ruby. He had familial love. He once had his family and Cora-san, and now he has his crew; but love with Ruby was so raw and passionate. It was so very different and he only wanted to feel this way with her. He knew that he would only feel this way with her.

He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. Ruby smiled softly. She nuzzled his nose and kissed his lips slowly. They rested their foreheads against one another silently. Their fingers tangled together and they rubbed their noses against each other’s.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

He smiled genuinely at her, causing her own smile to grow. “I love you.”

Law opened his eyes and stared at his ceiling. His heart was beating wildly, his face was flushed. Who was Ruby? That dream felt so real. It felt so familiar. Like a memory, but he can’t remember ever meeting someone named Ruby.

But he keeps stumbling over that name recently. He almost called Rose “Ruby” not long ago. And that woman from the bar...she looked exactly like this Ruby from his dream.

His dreams were becoming so vivid as of late. Visions of submarines and people he’s never met. They all felt real. What’s even more distressing is they all seemed to be related to each other.

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. What was happening to him?

[night-fallz]

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

Like I have stated before, this is my first fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it. Any kind of criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/23/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 2

XY was staring at the ceiling. A week has already passed. And he still couldn't stop thinking about the day he spent with Marinette. It was the most fun he'd had in a while.

Before the whole Silencer fiasco, his father would not stop pressuring him to produce a new song. So when they met up for dinner and his dad came up with the idea of stealing someone else's music, he couldn’t bring himself to decline.

XY knew it was wrong.

But all he wanted was the chance to finally impress his dad. Bob Roth might not have the best attitude towards him, but he was all XY had left.

Xy already lost his mom. He would not lose his dad too.

At least, that's what he believed. He should've known that his father was just using him for money. According to his dad, money was the most valuable thing in life.

XY scoffed. He should've known better. He should've known that all his father thought of hi-

He felt a buzz in his pocket and his face immediately brightened. Marinette just texted him!

Marinette: what's up?

Marinette: have u been inspired yet?

Marinette gave XY the idea to just sit back and let inspiration hit him. It was a common idea but it was one that most people tend to forget in the long run.

XY: nothing much

XY: and nope.

XY: my dad has been pressuring me to come up with something tho

Marinette: ignore him

Marinette: he's just mad cause he can't get any ladies

The three dots popped up on his screen.

Marinette: OH CRAP I'M LATE

Marinette: TTYL.

XY rolled his eyes and smiled.

They've been texting back and forth these past few days. He's learned so many things about her and vice versa.

It was nice. It's been a while since XY has had a friend.

Maybe she'll be even more, XY couldn’t help but think as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Huh," XY said out loud. "Even more"

And just like that, inspiration for his next song hit him.

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

Marinette was thinking of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed musician when she heard her phone ring.

"Tikki!" she screamed, staring at her phone as if it was Hawkmoth himself.. "He's calling me. XY is calling me."

Tikki sighed and floated next to Marinette, "Maybe you should answer it. It would be pretty rude to keep him waiting."

"Right, right," Marinette answered his call and hoped her voice didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought it did.. "Hey."

"Hey."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Marinette didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the small goddess.

Tikki rolled her eyes at their awkwardness as she gestured to the phone. Ask him why he called you, she mouthed to Marinette.

Marinette nodded. That was a smart idea. "So," Marinette cleared her throat. "Why did you call me?"

"Right, Uhm." Marinette heard him shuffling around his room. "You know how you've been asking me if I was inspired and stuff?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide and a huge smile took over her face as she started to nod before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Yep." she eagerly said, "Did you find any?"

"Yes!" Marinette could hear the excitement in his voice. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to design the outfits for my music video."

Marinette's eyes looked shocked. "Yes!" she jumped around in excitement before remembering she was still in a call with XY. "Why me though?"

XY’s voice sounded confused.. "What do you mean, why you? You're literally perfect for it. You're talented. Plus, everyone loves your designs."

Marinette’s cheeks resembled a tomato. She has never been more thankful for the fact that he couldn't see her right now.

"Thank you." Marinette managed to mumble. "That really means a lot."

"You're welcome." XY said. Marinette had a feeling he was smiling though. "I have to go and have my dad listen to the demo. But I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yep," Marinette whispered and gave Tikki a cookie. "Good luck. I know that whatever song you came up with is gonna sound good. No matter what he'll say."

Marinette heard a faint "Thanks" from the phone before the call ended.

Marinette screamed into her pillow and looked up and saw Tikki look at her with amusement. “I think I like him.”

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

"So, what do you think?" XY asked as his father finished listening to his song. "Is it bad? Do you think people will like it?"

Bob Roth grinned at his son. "This is a Masterpiece. Where did you find this?" He gestured to the video of XY singing the song, "Who did you steal this from?"

XY's proud smile immediately turned into a scowl. "What do you mean, who did I steal this from?" He yelled at his dad, his blue eyes glaring at him as he grabbed the demo from the table. "I made it. I came up with it myself." XY felt his eyes tearing up. "Something you would actually know if you thought of me as something more than a money-making machine."

How could he? XY thought as he climbed up the stairs. Is it that hard to believe that I could come up with something good?

XY slammed his door shut. "All I wanted was to prove to him that I wasn't a talentless son." XY put his hands on his face. "I just wanted to make him proud."

XY felt a buzz in his pocket and immediately knew that it was Marinette. After all, she’s the only one that ever texts him.

Marinette: how did it go?

Marinette: did he like it?

XY wiped away the tears that were starting to come out of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile. Marinette certainly had an effect on him.

XY: he called it a masterpiece

Marinette: yes! I knew he would like it.

XY: yeah

XY: but then he asked me who i stole it from

Marinette: THAT JERK

Marinette: WTF

Marinette: THAT's SO MESSED UP

Marinette: HOW COULD HE-

Marinette: DO YOU WANT ME TO BEAT HIM UP FOR YOU????

XY laughed at her text messages. He only started to text her and he already felt better.

XY: no, it's fine

XY: i actually yelled at him

Marinette: ...

Marinette: do you feel better?

XY: actually, yep.

XY: he's a really sucky father

Marinette: for some reason, a lot of the blondes i know have a toxic parent

Marinette: it's kinda sad

XY: maybe it's a paris thing

They texted back and forth, XY laughing at the memes Marinette sent.

XY: You're definitely a daughter of Athena

Marinette: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

Marinette: is that a percy jackson reference i see

XY: yep

XY: have u read the books?

Marinette: duh

Marinette: you haven't lived til you've read the books

Marinette: sadly, the movies sucked tho

XY: I KNOW

XY: ANNABETH WASN'T EVEN BLONDE

Marinette: EXACTLY!!

Marinette: SJSJSJSJSJSJ

 Marinette: THE MOVIES SCARED ME FOR LIFE

XY: oh yeah

XY: before i forget

XY: what's ur insta?

Marinette: which one

XY scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

XY: What do you mean by which one?

Marinette: i have two

Marinette: one as my personal one and the other one for commissions and stuff

XY: ohhh

XY: smart

Marinette: i know ;)

Marinette: my personal one is @Mdupaincheng and the one for my commissions one if @MDCdesigns

XY switched his apps and searched up Marinette's personal instagram. He clicked on the first result that came up.

The profile picture was Marinette in a blue, silky dress that went just above her ankle. There was a slit on her left leg that showed her knee. It was nighttime and Marinette was practically glowing under the city lights. She was staring at something on her right side, with one hand running through her silky black hair which was down for once.

She looked hot.

After XY stopped admiring her profile picture, he finally noticed her follower count.

She had 200,000 followers. 200,000.

It wasn't as high as XY's follower count, that was still quite a lot.

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

XY: i didn't know u were insta famous

Marinette: wdym?  

Marinette: which acc

XY: ur personal one

XY: u have over 200k followers

Marinette thought that she read his text wrong. There's no way that Marinette had that many followers. 200,000? There was no way.

Marinette: ur lying

XY: I'm not.

XY: check ur acc

It's been a while since Marinette has logged onto her personal account. The hate she got the last time she's been signed in was too much for her and when Alya told her to log out and just focus on her other account, @MDCdesigns, she couldn't bring herself to argue against her.

Marinette hasn't even thought of that account since that day. So when she logged in and saw that XY wasn't lying, she accidentally dropped her phone in shock.

Tikki looked at Marinette with a questioning look.  

Marinette ignored her kwami and texted the blue-eyes boy back.

Marinette: HOLY SHIT

Marinette: I HAVE 200k FOLLOWERS

Marinette: HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN

XY: when was the last time you checked ur acc

Marinette: about 3 months ago

Marinette: the media thought i was adrien's gf and his fangirls came at me

Marinette: i got a ton of hate and a friend of mine told me to log out and just focus on my @MDCdesigns acc

Marinette: so i did

Marinette: i haven't thought abt that acc since then

XY: the fangirls were probably just jealous

XY: it's been months so they probably calmed down

XY: I'm looking through the comments rn and so far the latest hate comment you've got was about 2 weeks ago

XY: you've got a bit of a fanbase yk

Marinette: WHAT DO I DO

Marinette: DO I JUST CONTINUE NOT TO POST OR SHOULD I POST SOMETHING ON MY STORY ABT HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR 200k

Marinette: HOW COME NONE OF MY FRIENDS TOLD ME ABT THIS

XY: don't post anything rn

XY: post a picture of yourself and the caption it something that shows ur thankful for the number of followers u received

XY: OH

XY: a few hours before u post the picture, make sure u post on ur story abt how ur back from ur break on social media

XY: that way ppl will understand why u haven't been active

XY: it'll also have ppl prepared for ur post and they'll be waiting for u to post it

XY: that'll give u more engagement and stuff

Marinette: thank u

Marinette: that was really helpful

Marinette: when should i post something?

Marinette: AND I STILL DONT KNOW WHY MY FRIENDS DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABT THIS

XY: u told ur friend that u were taking a break from social media right?

Marinette: yes

XY: then they probably weren't expecting u to post anything so they weren't checking ur insta

XY: u should post something on the weekend

XY: that way ppl wouldn't bother u during school this week

XY: if u want i can help u come up with ideas tomorrow?

Marinette: yes, please!

Marinette: do u wanna come over

Marinette: we can plan it in my room so that ppl won't overhear us

XY: guess I'll see u tomorrow then

XY: just text me the time ur available and I'll be there

Marinette: make sure to wear a disguise tho!

Marinette: we got lucky last time and no tabloids caught us

XY: ur right

XY: we must've been really lucky if no one got a pic of us

XY: but okay

XY: I'll wear my best disguise

XY: goodnight, princess

Marinette blinked a few times, making sure she read the text correctly.

Princess.

Marinette: goodnight ♥

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This is the first chapter of the story. Please let me know what you think

1,967 words

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - next chapter

 ☽ ☼ ☾

As he sat at his gate, he watched the other people. Something about airports had always intrigued him, so many people in their own lives, on their own paths all converging to this one place before jetting off once more. 

Lorcan was restless. On the arm of the uncomfortable chair, his fingers tapped out a furious beat. The monotonous drone of the phone line ringing in his ear didn’t help. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. I miss your voice and I need you to pick up so I don’t lose my fucking–

“What, the fuck , do you want?” 

He chuckled, “Good morning to you too, princess.” Inside his chest, his heart fluttered. Fuck, he missed her. He missed both his girls. The minute they’d dropped him off at the airport eight weeks ago, he’d been itching to go home. 

“I told you not to call me that.” There wasn’t any bite to her words and Lorcan knew - hoped - that she was wearing that soft, sleepy smile of hers. 

He hummed, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle, “Tell me to stop without smiling and I’ll stop. Easy-peasy, Lochan.” 

Elide just muttered a curse in Blackbeak and sighed as if talking to him was some sort of divine torture, “Why are you calling? It’s not even three yet, Lor.” Instantly, remorse flooded through him. He’d forgotten completely about the time difference and told her as much. “Mmm, it’s fine. Did something happen?” 

“Nah, I just wanted to say hey before my flight. I’m sorry for waking you up,” he said. Lorcan ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’ve… I miss you two.” 

The teasing, light mood dropped a bit. Lorcan could hear her breathing slowly and then she answered, her voice weaker than normal, “I know, Lor.” Her swallow was audible. “We miss you too.” Before he could respond, before he could offer her any sort of fleeting comfort, Elide spoke again, “Hold on one second, ok?” 

She was gone before he could respond. Lorcan could hear something rustling, like someone slipping out of a bed. He froze, hardly daring to breathe. She wouldn’t- Elide and Lorcan both knew better than to have someone over when they had the kid with them. 

There was soft murmuring he couldn’t quite make out and the unmistakable whine of their daughter. Lorcan slumped down in relief, cursing himself for this… jealousy. It wasn’t fair. “Hello?” snapped Stella Luna.

He chuckled, delighted by his child’s greeting, “Hey, Tiny.” 

She gasped and that innocent sound, filled with childlike wonder and elation, soothed his aching heart. “Daddy?” 

“Hi, Stella. I’m sorry I woke you up so early, I wanted to say hey before I get on the plane,” Lorcan explained with a smile. Thinking about Elide that summer had been painful enough, knowing he was so far from her, but it was nothing compared to the agony of missing his daughter. 

“Are you coming home today? ‘Cause I got kindergarten tomorrow, Daddy. Mama said you would take me,” Stella said. 

“Yes, I’m coming home today. I’ll take you to school tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy. I’ve been very busy, you know. Yesterday we went shopping and at Mintage, mama found me a Wednesday Addams lunch box,” Stella regaled, her words dripping with wonder and awe. “I’m so excited ‘acause I love Wednesday Addams, Daddy, did you know? We watched it last night at Fenny’s house ‘acause he let me choose. He said he was sick of the Addams family and that’s why I called him a dummy.” 

He laughed, pausing for a moment to listen to the PA. “Passengers boarding Flight 1203 to Varese, please make your way to gate C49. Passengers in zone one, please line up at the boarding desk.”  

“What was that? It sounded funny, Daddy, like a robot,” Stella said. 

“My plane’s getting ready to take off, Stel, they want everyone to come to the gate,” Lorcan explained. “How was Fen’s?” 

“Oh,” she started, “it was very good, Daddy. After the movie, he taked me to his show an’ I wanted to bring Salem but it’s too loud for him so I sat with Essar and she got me a juice box when I was thirsty. I think it was a secret ‘acause they only give them to me. It was grape which is my favourite, but I didn’t want to finish all of it so Vee drinked it after his show. Then Fenny and me and Con and Vee went to Grampy’s and I fell asleep so Fenny took me home.” 

“Passengers in zone two, please line up at the front desk.” 

Lorcan checked his boarding pass, “Kid, I have to get on my plane now, ok?” 

“Ok,” Stella replied, a little sadly. “I miss you.” 

The corners of his lips turned down. Lorcan hung his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he tried to think of what he could say to comfort his child. Eventually, he said, “I know, Stella Luna. I miss you too. I promise - once I’m home, no more tours, ok? I love you.” 

“Love you too, Daddy,” she chirped, already his happy, bubbly little baby again. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Tiny. Put your mother on for me,” Lorcan said, laughing through the sentence. He could hear Stella Luna hand the phone over to Elide. 

“Yes , you can sleep now,” Elide said with a kiss smacked on Stella’s head. “Lor, you still there?” 

“Yeah, ‘m here. I have to get on the plane now.” 

“Ok. Do you want us to pick you up from the airport?” 

Though it pained him to say it and further delay their reunion, Lorcan said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll be tired and I’ll probably just crash when I get home. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Can’t wait, Salvaterre.” 

He smiled a small smile, one that was only ever for Elide, “Me neither, Lochan.” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

He woke up somewhere high above the Cambrian Mountains. For a few moments, Lorcan stared out the small window, groggy and confused. 

It took him a second to remember what was happening and why he was on a plane. When he finally did recall, Lorcan pulled his laptop out of his camera bag and placed it on the desk. The band he’d been working with over the summer had bought him a seat in business class for both his flights home. 

Lorcan shifted in his seat and absentmindedly toyed with the curved barbell that pierced the delicate skin connecting his upper lip to his gum as he waited for his computer to turn on. He leaned down, searching through his bag for the USB that carried every shot he’d taken in concert that summer. 

He found it and sat up straight. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he saw the background of his laptop. He hadn’t changed it in the three years since the photo of Elide tattooing Stella’s name in Ozuye on the outside of his right thumb while he held a sleeping Stella Luna to his chest with his free arm had been taken. The tattoo was his favourite, though it probably tied for first place with the cartoon-inspired Wednesday Addams on his inner left wrist. 

The placement of both designs had been purposeful, so when he was shooting something, he could see them clearly and think about his daughter. He had never met anyone who loved the Addams family more than Stella. 

Lorcan put his headphones on and played a playlist at random. Pink + White played as he opened Photoshop and uploaded a file he hadn’t even looked at yet. The photos weren’t needed for another month, but he would rather get them done now so he could focus on the upcoming studio show. 

He still hadn’t decided what or who his subject would be. Maybe he would take a break from concerts and focus on something else.

For the rest of the flight, he worked to distract himself from the fact that he’d be seeing Elide again. It hardly made any difference, his mind on her like always. Lorcan had been in love with Elide for… forever. He finally realised it, though, a couple weeks before she had their daughter. 

He had wanted… he had wanted a family with her. A real one, where Stella wouldn’t be perpetually split between two homes, but Elide hadn’t wanted that and Lorcan respected her wishes. Maybe it was foolish, but six years seemed like long enough to be pining for someone. 

As Lorcan got lost in the thoughts he spent most of his waking hours repressing, a hissing voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother snapped, Elide Lochan is not ‘someone’ and she is certainly not someone you get over. Ever. Stupid boy.  

His lips twisted with a rueful smile, though the memory of his mother ached and stung. Lorcan swallowed past the painful tightening of his throat and saved what he was working on, electing to watch something he’d downloaded on Netflix until they’d landed in Varese.

The air in Varese was balmy and he couldn’t stand it. Lorcan was seconds away from trying to peel his skin off. He had always hated the heat, but this steaming humidity was his hell. 

When his zone was called to board the flight, Lorcan could hardly keep the grin from his face. The thought of seeing his family, no matter how it hurt him to know Stella would come home with him tomorrow and Elide would stay in her apartment, was a joy nothing else had ever replicated. 

His heart seemed to beat a frantic timpani, each pat-pat saying, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me . 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

There was a crick in her neck. Elide muttered a curse with her eyes shut and reached out to her bedside table, only to feel nothing and hear an innocently delighted giggle. 

She smiled and kept her eyes closed. Slowly, Elide reached out, “I wonder who could be laughing right now. And where could they be!” 

There was that little laugh again, though Elide knew her child was doing her absolute best to stay silent. She heard Salem’s meow of protest and Stella’s sweet shushing. 

Staying silent had never been Stella’s strong suit. Elide continued on, now patting the blankets. “Hmm, I do wonder if they could be hiding beneath these blankets!” As she said ‘blankets’, Elide opened her eyes and ripped the covers away. A quick blur of orange and black flashed past as Stella’s fluffy cat was freed and Salem bounded away. 

Stella Luna’s shrieking laughter filled the room, gloomy from the rain that poured steadily against the large, paned windows. Elide laughed too as she grabbed her daughter and pulled her into her lap, her fingers digging into the soft part between Stella’s ribcage and hip bone. Stella squirmed away, begging her to stop, “No, please, mama, it tickles!” 

Elide chuckled softly and relented, choosing instead to gather Stella up in a long hug. “Oh, good morning, little one. How did you sleep, hmm?” She pulled back and brushed her hand through Stella’s hair. 

“Um, I slept good, mama, but I’m really hungry now, so I would like to have breakfast.” 

“We can do that. What do you want to eat?” 

Stella flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. Though her shape was Elide’s ethereal monolid, the colour of rich browns and deep blacks was all Lorcan. “Pancakes, mama. Can we make them look like bats?” 

Elide snorted and nodded, “Of course we can. Why don’t you go wash your hands and we can make them, ok?” 

The four-year old was off before she could even say yes, hurriedly careening into the bathroom. Her mother laughed again, but the care-free sound bled into a pained groan as she stood up and stretched. Elide really needed to stop crashing in her daughter’s bed. 

Stella hollered back from the toilet, “Mama, can we have chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

Elide smiled as she walked through Stella’s room. On the floor, one of Stella’s toys obstructed her path and Elide jammed her toe into a wooden box. She gritted her teeth against the pain and asked, “Will you clean your room today?”

“Uhhh,” Stella contemplated, “I guess. I dunno why , mama, I don’t care if it’s messy, why do you care?” 

“Because your room is messy and you might hurt yourself if you don’t know where something is,” Elide replied steadily. As she pulled on a pair of shorts, she heard little feet race into the kitchen. Elide twisted her hair up and clamped it into place with a hair clip. When she padded into the kitchen, Stella Luna was standing obediently on her stool, her hands clasped like a perfect little child. Elide hooted at the sight, “Oh, you little demon.” 

Stella grinned proudly at the nickname and pushed her wild hair back with both hands. She sighed in annoyance, “Mama, help please. It’s too much.” 

“Of course, witchling,” Elide said. Stella clambered up onto the counter to sit patiently. Elide hummed something soft as she parted her daughter’s hair and weaved two simple pigtails. As she braided, Salem gracefully leapt onto the counter and made himself comfortable in the fruit bowl, resting his chin on his crossed paws like a proper gent. “Better?” 

“Yeah,” Stella chirped as she climbed down and ran to the pantry. She flung the door open, “Mama, is Daddy coming home today?”

“He is. Remember, he called last night, baby,” Elide replied as she pulled out eggs and milk from the fridge. 

“Oh, I thought that was a dream ,” explained Stella. She lugged over the large container of flour, carrying it with both arms and almost tipped over. She decided to put it on the floor and push it to the counter. “I wanna play music!” 

Elide laughed as she picked the flour up and began measuring out the dry ingredients, “Go for it, Stella.” She watched in delight as Stella ran to the record player and sat on the floor in front of it to peruse the stack of records.

A couple moments later, Stella had decided and put the vinyl on. She pranced back over to her stool as music played. “Mama, can I crack a egg, please?” 

When I met you in the restaurant, you could tell I was no debutante

“Yes, ma’am,” Elide passed her an egg, “Be careful, you remember what to do, right?” 

“Yup!” Stella delicately cracked the egg on the side of the liquid measuring cup and used her thumbs to open it. The yolk and egg white plopped perfectly into the milk and vanilla. She picked up the whisk and mixed it all up. 

Dreaming, dreaming is free

Stella was soon bored and trailed over to the living room. She sat down and started to dance with her frog stuffie, singing along, “I don’t want to live on charity, pleasure’s real or is it fantasy…” Elide grinned at the sight and found the silicone mold in the top drawer.

A few minutes later, Elide slid a stack of bat wing pancakes onto a plate. “Stella? Food’s ready.” 

 “Ok, mama,” Stella said. She skipped to the table and climbed onto her chair. “Can I have maple syrup too?” 

Elide had already grabbed the bottle and grabbed a pair of forks drying in the dish rack. She put the plate down and sat, passing Stella her fork. Stella doused the pancakes in maple syrup and attacked viciously, stuffing an entire pancake into her mouth. Elide laughed loudly, “Baby, eat your food properly. C’mon, you know better.” 

Stella grinned around the sticky-sweet mess and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. Elide took the plate and cut the food up into bite-sized pieces before passing it back. The four-year old abandoned her fork in favour of her wee hands and stuffed as many chocolatey-mapley-buttery pieces as she could into her mouth. 

“Good gods, child,” her mother said. “You’ll choke.” Delight surged through her at the sound of Stella’s gleeful laughter, albeit muffled. She grabbed a napkin and reached out, holding her daughter’s chin hostage as she wiped the mess away. “I am so happy your father is coming back, he’ll finally take you off my hands, you gremlin.” 

Stella gasped loudly and wrenched her chin free, “Mama, can we go to the airplane place? I want to surprise Daddy. Pretty please?” 

She made her eyes big and wide, sticking her bottom lip out. Elide cracked immediately, “I think he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Stella nodded with such vigour Elide half-thought her head would fly off. “We’ll do that later, Stel. Why don’t you finish your breakfast?” 

Stella needed no further prompting. 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

His bag was the second bag out. Lorcan easily slung the black duffel over his shoulder. He made his way out of the baggage claim and around fellow passengers numbly awaiting their belongings. 

Lorcan thought about pausing, his fingers twitching to grab his camera and freeze the moment. There was something slightly surreal about it all. A voice told him to stop, to do it, but the sweet, pure voice of his baby calling him home was louder. 

He was still listening to miss star’s jamzzz and clicked the ball of the piercing in his tongue against his teeth to the beats. I’m Not A Loser by the Descendents’ played at maximum volume as he strode across the scuffed and dingy linoleum. 

Vaguely, he thought he might’ve heard someone calling for him. Pausing, Lorcan half-pulled a headphone off his ear. He looked around, narrowing his eyes in confusion at the sea of strangers. 

“Daddy!” 

“Kid?” 

A wee one shot out through the passing crowd. Her hair, jet black and thick, curled out of her assumedly once-tight and neat braids. Her eyes were thin and dark, so rich and depthless, framed by long lashes. The little lass seemed to have a piece of the sun setting her warm, coppery complexion aglow from beneath. “ *Até , hi-hi!” 

Stella launched herself up and Lorcan dropped his bag to catch her. He held her tight to his chest, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Tiny, Creator above. I missed you so much, my darling moon.” 

“Hi, Daddy,” Stella whispered, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. “It’s nice to see you.” 

Lorcan laughed raspily at her formal greeting, “Wow, so fancy, miss Star. ‘It’s nice to see you’, really? You’re killing me, Tiny.” 

She giggled, shaking her head as she pulled back, “No, I’m not fancy, Daddy. I’m tough ,” she snarled, baring her teeth intimidatingly. 

Lorcan laughed again, his head tipping back, “The toughest .” 

Stella beamed and abruptly stopped, an outraged gasp escaping her. She grabbed his face and pulled his head back down. When she felt his stubble, Stella Luna pulled a face, “Daddy, you have to shave. It’s scratchy.” 

“What, I thought I looked nice like this, babe,” he said, shifting her to his side. “It’s that bad?” 

She stared at him for a while before slowly shaking her head, “No… it’s ok, Daddy. Mama likes it like that.” Stella laid her head on his shoulder. Lorcan smiled and held her tightly again, his eyes closed. 

For a long moment, neither said a word, until Stella became restless and started peering out around her. “There’s so many people, Daddy.”

“There is,” he agreed. Lorcan brushed something from her cheek and Stella batted his hand away. “So, you learn to drive while I was away, or something?”

“No! I’m still little , Daddy,” Stella Luna corrected him with a giggle. “Mama drived me.” She pointed vaguely towards the entrance, “Mama’s over there and she said, ‘Stella, hold my hand and stay close ‘till we see your dad, ok?’ but you’re so tall and I sawed your head so I ran and didn’t listen to Mama.” Gasping softly, Stella put her hands over her mouth, “Oh no. Mama! Mama, hello? I am here,” she curled her arm over his shoulder as she craned her head to look around. “Where she go?”

Lorcan looked around as well, loving and hating the way his pulse sped up at the prospect of seeing her . “I don’t know where your ma is, maybe she- oh,” Lorcan cut himself off as he saw a familiar flash of long black hair through the crowd. “There she is.”

Through the throngs of passengers and travelers, Lorcan saw a fair skinned, petite woman. Her hair was dark, streaked with purple, and fell to her hips. She left it be in its natural waves, but had it cut into a blunt, pointed fringe that framed her heart-shaped face. Her round, plush lips were painted deep, nearly black, red. They curled into a teasing grin, “Hey, Salvaterre, I see you’ve finally decided to rejoin the rabble! Was the tour too preppy for you, what with all the first class flights and champagne?” 

He laughed and reached out to flick her nose, “Shut your mouth, Lochan. I’m common folk for life.” Elide laughed and Lorcan smiled, “Fuck, I can’t believe that you two came to pick me up.” He pulled Elide into a hug, something finally settling inside him as he held his girls for the first time in two months. 

“No, no swearing, Daddy,” Stella chastised him, her frown disapproving, “Fuck is a bad word. A very bad word and we’re only allowed to say it when we listen to music.”

Elide laughed and slipped her arm around his waist, “A wretched word, really. It’s like you want our daughter to become a menace to society.” 

“Oh, really? And what if our daughter wants to be a menace to society?” 

Stella Luna nodded, sticking her chin out, “Yeah, what if I want to be a menace to society, mama?”

Elide shook her head at the two of them and narrowed her eyes at him, “This is your doing, you know, Lorcan.” Oh… how his heart stopped as his name tumbled from her lips. Lorcan struggled to breathe for a moment and Elide’s warm grin faltered. “Lor? You alright?” 

“Y-yeah, just jet-lag,” he said quickly. Lorcan averted his eyes from Elide’s concerned gaze. Stella Luna wiggled, whining slightly. When she was set down on her feet, she grabbed Lorcan’s hand in one of hers and Elide’s in the other.

“Let’s go!” she shouted, tugging them along with all her might. At fifteen kilos and a solid one-hundred centimetres, it wasn’t much, but her determination made up for it. Over her head, Elide shot Lorcan a smile and a wink. 

Lorcan rolled his eyes and chuckled. Stella skipped and hopped along to Elide’s car. Lorcan tossed his duffel in the trunk as Elide helped Stella into her booster seat and he walked over to the passenger seat. “Daddy,” Stella said, “did you know my birthday is in two months? That means I’m gonna be five whole years.”

“Wow, you’re going to be so old ,” he said dramatically, smiling in the rearview mirror when Stelle’s jaw dropped open and her eyes widened. 

“I don’t want to be old. Old people are yucky. Like you and mom.” Elide and Lorcan looked at each other and burst into gutsy laughter at their daughter’s words. Stella sniffed primly and turned her face to the side, “It’s not funny to be old. Being old means you die. Do you want to die, Daddy?” 

“If I die, I become a ghost and I’ll haunt people,” he said. 

“Would you haunt me ?” the girl asked, her eyes filled with morbid curiosity. 

Elide huffed a laugh. She turned the car on and smoothly pulled out of her parking spot to the freeway that would take them back to Orynth. “You two are ridiculous. Stella, baby, no one’s haunting you.” 

“Yeah, except for me,” Lorcan ever-so-helpfully stated. 

As Elide exclaimed in annoyance, Stella giggled uncontrollably. The dark haired woman couldn’t help but laugh along and the sound of their laughter soothed the dull ache of missing them. 

☽ ☼ ☾

“ Até, ‘m tired,” said Stella, trailing up to Lorcan. She was all ready for bed, dressed in her Jack Skellington pyjamas. Her dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese had been devoured an hour ago. Lorcan was in Elide’s kitchen, washing the dishes as Elide worked on a sketch and Stella checked her backpack over and over and over again. She was not going to be caught unprepared for her first day of kindergarten. 

He rinsed off the iron skillet and placed it in the dish rack. Lorcan dried his hands and turned to his daughter, who held her hands up expectantly. With a fond smile, Lorcan scooped her up and asked, “Time for bed? Did you brush your teeth yet?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Daddy, don’t forgot Mr. Ribbit.” Stella said softly, already falling asleep. She clutched at his shoulders, a yawn splitting her little face in half. 

His grin softened and he kissed the top of her head, “Can’t forget your frog, now, can we?” There came a low chuckle from the living room. Elide walked over to them, her pencil stuck in her hair and carrying the fuzzy green animal. She passed the animal to Stella and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Lorcan offered her his hand, “Come with us?” 

Elide nodded and slipped her hand in his. They walked to Stella's room together. She breathed evenly and deeply, her eyes closed. Her lashes brushed the tops of her rosy cheeks. Lorcan set her down with care and tucked her blankets around her. “Good night, my darling moon,” he said softly - in his native tongue - and brushed her hair back before it could tickle the tip of her button nose.

“Night-night,” Stella whispered, her eyes cracking open. “Are you gonna come drive me with mama tomorrow to school?” She snuggled into her pile of pillows and held her blanket up for Salem to settle in beside her. The cat curled up against her and purred softly as he flicked his fluffy tail over her protectively.

“Yes, I am.” 

She nodded, “Good. That’s good, Daddy.” 

“Alright, Tiny,” he laughed softly, “go to sleep, yeah? You’ve had a big day.” He kissed her forehead and stood up to let Elide say good night. 

Elide sat down on the edge of the mattress and cupped Stella’s face in her hand, her words soft and too low for Lorcan to hear. She too chuckled and kissed Stella Luna’s cheek, then got up and stepped over to Lorcan. 

They closed the door and silently walked back to the living room. Lorcan sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. Elide curled up in the opposite corner and smiled, “Tired?” 

“Yeah,” he said, dropping his head back against the couch. “Fuck me, I have to go home.” 

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? You’ll have to come back tomorrow anyway,” Elide said, her voice measured. 

Lorcan looked at her, but her face was turned to the side. “Are you sure, El? I honestly don’t mind and I haven’t been to my place in a while.” 

She glanced over at him, “No, c’mon, it’s fine. It’s not like we’ve never done it.” 

“Done what?” 

Elide shot him a flat look, “Slept in the same bed.” 

Lorcan choked and his eyes widened, “El- what? I was just going to take the–” 

“I swear to Anneith if you say ‘couch’, I’ll strangle you. I’m not making you sleep on my couch when you’ve been gone all summer.” Elide stood up and walked to her bedroom, her hips swinging enticingly. Lorcan quickly looked away. “Besides, my bed is big. I promise I won’t give you my cooties.” 

He snapped his teeth and crossed the room to join her. “Fine. I’ll stay.” 

Elide crossed her arms over her chest and smiled cockily, “I knew you would.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorcan said, pulling her into his arms. Her body melted into his. They fit perfectly together. They always had. “You’re always right, aren’t you, princess?” 

Elide hid her smile and slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed above his heart. For a long moment, neither said a word. Then, Elide pressed her forehead against him and whispered. She couldn’t speak any louder, fearing that the tears she’d held back for years would finally spill over. “It’s nice to have you home, Lor.” 

“It’s nice to be home,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back. 

“It wasn’t the same without you.” It’s never the same without you.

He closed his eyes, hating the tears that blurred his vision. “Wasn’t the same without you, either, Lochan.”

 ☽ ☼ ☾

an: ahh ! it’s here ! a few things will b different for this wip, so i just want to let u all kno: 

- chapters will b posted once a week on mondays, at 8pm pacific standard time

- there will b flashback chapters !! 

- there will b depictions of recreational drug (marijuana) and alcohol consumption - i will put warnings for these n if there r any other triggers u would like me to warn, pls let me know

- if u want to b added/removed from the tag list, just send me an ask - it is rlly no trouble at all <3

translation: *Até: Father/Dad in Lakota (i headcanon lorcan to be native american - speficially Oglala Lakota. this will b more apparent/relevant in future chapters. i call his tribe 'the ozuye'. 'ozuye' means war-party in lakota)

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. Pink + White - Frank Ocean 2. Dreaming - Blondie 3. I'm Not A Loser - Descendents

@mythicaitt​​ @werewolffprince​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @ladyverena​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​  @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​​ @maastrash​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @cursebreaker29​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @b00kworm​​ @hizqueen4life​​ @silversprings98​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​ @minaidss​​ @superspiritfestival​​ @sanakapoor​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​  @thegoddessofyou​​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​​ @claralady​​ @neonhellas​​ @darlinminds​​ @readingismyonlyhobby​​ @autophobiaxx​​ @silversprings28​​ @myshadowsingeraz​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​ @elriel4life​​ @always-in-a-daydream​​ @jlinez​​ @ladywitchling​​ @mariamuses​ @darklesmylove​ @adelzd-bookblr​

[junie-bugg]

The Heartrender - Chapter One: Ashes

Hey everyone! Here’s my latest Enemies to Lovers Everlark fic. It’s a fantasy AU inspired by Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows duology, more specifically Nina Zenik and Matthias Helvar. You don’t need to have read Six of Crows to understand this story since I took ideas from Bardugo’s world and then made it my own. It doesn’t take place in the Grishaverse but is heavily influenced by it. I came up with countries, parts of a new language, and backstories for my witch!Katniss and witch-hunter!Peeta. 

All four chapters have been written and I plan on uploading every Friday:)

You can read here on Tumblr or here on AO3.

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content

Relationship: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, witch!Katniss, witch-hunter!Peeta, AU - Shipwrecked, AU - Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Furs and Fires, Angst and Fluff and Smut, sexually experienced Katniss, virgin Peeta, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loss of Virginity, Laughter During Sex, Blood and Injury, Imprisonment, Peeta has some prejudices to work out, Peeta also has an accent, Inspired by Six of Crows

Summary: 

He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.

After a shipwreck has left an abducted witch and a member of the ominous Order bent on wiping out her kind stranded on the icy shores of an uninhabited land, the two must work together to survive or face tearing each other apart in the process.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Chapter One: Ashes

Peeta had imagined his death many times. A slit throat or an ax in the chest. Perhaps run through with a sword and thrown from a cliff. A warrior’s death, a man’s death, as was expected of him in his service to Sjorkden. Never did he think he’d pass bloodlessly and without a foe to fight. Yet here he was.

Drowning.

The frigid water wrapped around his body like a salt casing, water-logging his shoes and pulling at the cloth of his uniform. He imagined clammy hands latching onto his limbs, dragging him down, down, down. In the harrowing moments before he ran out of air, he watched dreamy streams of moonlight filter towards the black bottoming out of oblivion that was the ocean floor. Below him gaped miles and miles of seawater, and he would be lost to it.

He prepared himself for what was to come, slowly counting down the seconds to when he would snort salt water into his lungs and end it. No use in prolonging the inevitable, though his dreams lay like air pockets in his stomach, lifting him to hope there was still time for him to change things. To achieve something with the life he would have had if not for this stroke of bad luck.

Water pressed at his lips like an unwelcome guest. He was truly out of air now and the suffocating vacuum in his chest was enough to burst him apart from the inside out. The tips of his fingers began to tingle painfully, oxygen deprivation or the effects of cold, he couldn’t tell.

His last thoughts before he lost consciousness were of the countdown to drowning himself.

Three… two…

And then nothing.

X

Peeta awoke to an embrace. Thin arms twined about his ribcage, hoisting him above the frothy crests of waves.

His people believed in Gratka, the valley of heaven, the holy place of worshippers, warriors, and the most pious of women. A divine world spun from light and cloud, flowing with rivers of honey wine and heavy with the scent of eternal orchards. Peeta was not sure if he had been worthy of Gratka, but surely the chasms of hell would have been hotter than this.

He jerked his head about, trying to get his bearings back. His lips dripped with saltwater and his lungs burned with every ragged inhale.

He and his companion were bobbing on the frigid waves. The sky wheeling above was full of black, ominous storm clouds and the ship, The Bloody Rose, was on fire.

He hadn’t meant to, but he must have let out a cry because suddenly the arms tightened around him and a pair of lips pressed against his ear.

“You can’t save them. Just help me swim.” Then a strangled grunt and a: “Gods, you’re heavy. What do they feed you? Horses?” The words were choked, spoken in the voice of someone who had swallowed too much seawater and was struggling against the current. She spoke in Krellian, a sharp language of hissing consonants and hard breaks, only punctuated by the occasional swooping vowel. He twisted to face her, his lip curling in disgust when he saw those flashing silver eyes.

The witch.

How had she gotten out of her cell?

Her eyes bulged in panic as he kicked away, ripping himself from the circle of her arms.

“No!” she screamed as she grabbed at him, but without her there to buoy him, his head quickly slipped beneath the waves once more. His arms felt sluggish and he realized with a paralyzing rush of cold that she had been keeping his blood warm with her magic.

He struggled to break the surface, coughing up a mouthful of seawater and thrashing about as he tried to find her once more in the dark. “Witch?” he sputtered, ashamed of the sharp edge of fear in his voice. They reached out for one another, barely holding on by their fingertips as a wave crashed overhead, but then it passed and they were righted once more. He didn’t try to get away this time, afraid of his dipping heart rate and the hazy rush of dizziness that quickly abated with her touch. He didn’t feel warm, but the numb ache in his limbs lessened. He pulled her to his chest, locking her body within his arms like a vice.

“We can make it to shore, but I need you to kick. I can’t swim and keep both our hearts beating.”

He blinked the water from his stinging eyes, already exhausted.

She pressed the back of her head into his shoulder in frustration. “Jųlaik, ” she begged.

Please.

He grunted in reply and then started swimming. In return, she kept their hearts beating despite the cold. They weren’t sure which way the shore was. For all they knew, Peeta could be bringing them further out to sea, but with every passing minute the blazing ship they’d escaped from grew smaller and smaller until it collapsed in on itself, a charred heap dipping below the waves.

Not only had Peeta’s brothers in arms been on that ship, but Peeta’s future had been on that ship. Seventeen witches, four of which he had captured and that he could claim, all dead, except for one.

In his service as a witcher, he had brought forty-six witches to court and he had witnessed them all, his bounties, burn at the stake. The sweet stink of smoke and the way that charred flesh falls away from bone were all too familiar. This was his country’s way. This was justice. Four more would have won him his freedom, his manhood, his honor. Four more witches and he would have held the world in his palm like a flowering bud ready for plucking. All the blood and sweat and sleepless nights spent scouring the wastelands of countries far from home would have been worth it.

Hours passed. The storm clouds released their last torrents of icy rain and then cleared to reveal a bright purple smattering of stars above, carving their ancient celestial paths across the sky. The only sounds were his labored breathing and the sloshing of waves. Peeta’s legs felt as if they were going to fall off, both burning from the physical exertion and freezing in the arctic water. His nerves didn’t know what sensation to succumb to, retreating into numbness. He felt as if he were kicking around two logs.

The witch hadn’t spoken since the ship disappeared, but Peeta could tell by the way she was gritting her teeth that it was taking everything in her to keep them from freezing to death. He almost laughed at the irony of the situation. The witch and the witch hunter. Not a pair destined for groundbreaking teamwork.

So why had she saved him?

Dawn peeked over the horizon, pulling it’s smoldering pinks and oranges upwards until the stars faded and the moon was just a paling ghost of its nighttime brilliance.

“There,” the witch whispered through chattering teeth, her voice weak with exhaustion. Peeta turned his head to see what she had gestured to.

A coastline with tall cliffs crusted in ice and snow, and there at the shore, a black stretch of beach. Peeta swam on against the surf, the waves pushing them back out as if the ocean wasn’t quite ready to let them go. Finally, Peeta touched bottom and they crawled to land, collapsing on the sand with water lapping at their ankles. The two were heaving and freezing and giddy with the fact that they were alive, against all odds they had survived, though the silent celebration didn’t last long. The air was bitter and their wet skin puckered beneath its needle-sharp caress. They needed to find shelter, and fast, or the witch’s magic wouldn’t be enough to keep them alive.

Movement was hard. Peeta’s body felt as stiff as a piece of plywood and each attempt to stand left him trembling under his own weight. He looked back at the witch lying prone in the sand. Her hair was a tangled mess and clung to her face in dark, wet clumps. He almost thought she wouldn’t make it, that she’d just stay collapsed and never get up again. But she managed to rise onto her hands and knees, and then slowly to her feet.

They didn’t talk as they climbed a narrow pass up the cliffside. The rock was black and smooth, flowing magma that had cooled, dotted here and there with the greenish-brown blooms of lichen. Perhaps the land had once been volcanic, but that must have been a very long time ago.

As they reached the top of the cliffside, they found themselves marooned in a land of winter. Sharp white mountains jutted up in the misty distance and the foothills that spread out before them were dotted with boulders and stretches of snow and the shrubby, paling vegetation that hinted at a short growing season. It was a harsh land where only the most adaptable species could survive, and Peeta knew if they didn’t find a cave or some sort of outcropping to huddle in soon, they’d be done for.

Luckily, they stumbled across a cluster of circular lodges at the top of the cliff. The witch, shuddering so violently Peeta almost thought she could be seizing, disappeared past the thick curtain that acted as a door, shuddered one final time, and then collapsed onto a pile of discarded furs.

Peeta limped inside and scanned the den. It had been constructed and then abandoned by a whaling expedition, which were common this far north, though whaling was only done in the spring. The walls were layers of tanned animal skin and were held up by thin ashwood beams running from floor to curved ceiling. They looked like the bones of a rib cage bleached chalk-white in the sun. A thick column stood sentinel at the structure’s center so the roof wouldn’t sag and beneath it lay a small fire pit with a few half charred logs. The lodge was designed to house upwards of fifteen people, whalers with thick cloaks and packs full of food and supplies, but now just sheltered two shivering, salt-crusted water rats with nothing. The whole place smelled of wet fur and welcomed Peeta with open, shadowy arms.

“We should start a fire,” Peeta croaked, his throat ravaged by salt and exertion. He nudged the witch with the toe of his boot when she didn’t respond. “Are you dead?” A part of him wanted her to be. He hated owing her for his life, a debt he knew he would have to repay before this horrible nightmare was over. But if the swim had killed her, he wouldn’t have felt a shred of guilt.

As he circled around he saw that she was in fact very alive. Her eyes were propped open, wide and glassy, as if she didn’t have eyelids, shot through with red where there should have been white. She was chanting he realized. Praying perhaps.

It scared him.

“Hey!” He kicked her shoulder and the witch’s eyes cleared as if they were rising above a cloud line. “Stop that, it’s freaking me out.”

She glared up at him. “Never disrupt me again.”

“Why?" he sneered. "So you can curse me? Blind me or make me impotent? Cast a horrible death upon me and all my descendants?” Witches were known for curses. Pregnant women whose unborn babes had offered strong kicks days before, born bright blue and as limp as dead worms. Men cursed to wander the forests until they clawed out their own eyes and died of blood loss. Children swallowed up by thick mountain mists, never to be seen again. Death. Woe. Suffering. All at the hands of a wretched few.

“I have not cursed you. Your allegiance to a false god has done that.”

“And yet, we’re in the same predicament. Seems your gods have doomed you as well.”

This struck a nerve. Perhaps the same thought had been pressing on her mind. She narrowed her eyes, bunching her fists in the fur she lay atop of. “If I had the strength I would burn that blackened heart of yours right out of your chest.”

“Should I be worried about tomorrow then?”

“Very.” She rose to face him, hatred pouring forth from her eyes and twining about her head like a poisonous snake baring its fangs. He met it with a hardened look of his own.

“I’m still waiting on a ‘thank you’ for dragging you out of the ocean,” he said.

“And I’m waiting on a ‘thank you’ for keeping your tiny heart from shriveling up. Trust me, it was no easy task.”

He smiled coldly. “My, you have a big mouth for someone so small.”

“And you have a big head for someone with such little brains.”

He almost laughed, but they had been through a lot and Peeta was tired of arguing. He crossed to the fire pit and ignored the eyes boring into the back of his head.

“What? No response?” she goaded bitterly, but Peeta didn’t rise to her bait, focusing instead on starting a fire. After scraping two jagged rocks together, there was a spark. Thankfully the kindling was dry and after a few harsh blows and a prayer, Peeta was successful. The fire was delicious, like a tiny heart slowly beating life back into his frozen fingers.

He realized that this was the first time in weeks that he and the witch hadn’t been separated by iron bars.

As if in response to the shameful flush of heat that had radiated through his body at the thought, he heard a muffled sound, like a bird’s wings rubbing together, and turned his head.

The witch’s dress was off, her body bared to him. Her small, rounded breasts and jutting hips shone like caramel in the soft light.

Peeta’s cheeks flamed, afraid that he had been caught staring. “What are you doing?” he sputtered as he moved to shield his eyes.

She turned to pick her dress up off the floor and shot a look over her shoulder. Her very bare shoulder. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to spend the night in a wet dress, do you?”

“But you’re naked!” He winced at how petulant he sounded, how very much like a child he still was in some ways.  

She rolled her eyes at him, but he was too focused on avoiding the very sight of her that he didn’t notice. “You’ll get naked too if you have any sense. No use in wearing wet clothes when you can let them dry.”

“You’re perverted.”

“I’m being practical.” She twisted the seawater out of her dress and then snapped the damp fabric at his back. “Now strip.”

X

He had to admit, shucking off his wet uniform and wrapping his body in a pelt had made him feel much better, though he was careful to cover the flesh between his legs when he did.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” she laughed. The sound set Peeta’s nerves on edge. The witch lounged near the fire pit on a nest of pelts she had constructed, wrapped in a glossy black fur that reflected threads of reddish-gold in the firelight. As she sat, the weak glow of the flames cast her features into warm relief, deepening the shadows under her cheekbones and darkening her lashes. Her salt tangled hair was as ebony black as a night sky with no stars and her skin was flawless, the color of water beaten clay beds.

“Come here,” she beckoned.

Instead, Peeta took a step back. “I do not take orders from witches. Even naked ones.”

“It’s like you don’t want to survive the night,” she scoffed. “See this?” Her furs shifted as she reached out a hand, allowing a dark sliver of her inner thigh to catch the light.

Peeta tried not to stare.

She pointed a finger towards the dwindling fire. “We barely have any wood left, and when the fire dies while we’re sleeping, the only thing keeping us warm will be each other. Now get over here. I don’t plan on freezing to death when I have a big lump of muscle to keep me toasty.”

She made a good point, but still, Peeta hesitated. What if this was just a trick? A lure to get him close enough so she could pounce and gouge his eyes out. Or maybe she’d wait to finish him off when he fell asleep, his beating heart ripped from his chest while he cradled her against him.

In the end, he decided there was little chance of them surviving out here with no food and only three measly logs to keep a fire going. If he was going to die, he’d rather die warm. Besides, having his heart ripped from his chest would be over faster than starvation.

He moved towards the nest, and only after he had discarded his pelt and shimmied under hers did she speak.

“Closer, lieutenant,” she urged in a singsong voice.

He growled in response.

“Seriously, you’re acting like a blushing schoolboy.”

“I do not wish to lay with a witch.”

“This is not laying. This is surviving. If you had any experience pleasuring a woman you’d know the difference.”

Peeta’s body stiffened behind her.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed by it,” she chuckled meanly. “I thought the whole point of your pious Order was that you prided yourselves on being virgins. That and murderers.”

He ignored the word murderers. Only a witch would consider what the Order did murder. Everyone else considered it justice. Shearing the rot riddled branches off the tree that was the human race. Magic was a disease, nobody should have that kind of power over another. It was unnatural and the world was better off absent of her kind, but he didn’t expect her to understand.

Monsters were always blind to their own evils.

So instead he addressed her derisive use of virgin. “We marry only when we’ve proven ourselves worthy to the Order.”

“Shouldn’t you only have to prove yourself to your wife?”

What a silly notion, Peeta thought. “A man does not have to prove himself to a woman. He has responsibility over her. Nothing more.”

“How romantic.”

“Do not mock me, slum scum.”

“I think I like ‘witch’ better,” she quipped. She was infuriatingly quick-witted and Peeta seethed in silence, unsure that he could contend with such a sharp tongue.

“Whatever,” she said after the silence grew too long. “Just know that there’s nothing to worry about. Even if I wanted to, I would never defile my body with the likes of you.”

“That’s reassuring,” he muttered.

Despite her declaration, the witch drew nearer. The goose flesh of her back felt clammy against his chest, but soon their body heat melded and all he felt was radiating warmth prickling against the chill that had settled into his bones.

“Why did you save me?” he asked lowly, unable to quiet his racing thoughts. A part of him wanted to keep her talking so he wouldn’t have to close his eyes and picture Yasser’s bloated body lost at sea.

“Because you’re a human being,” she murmured, her voice saturated with drowsiness. “And because I knew if you survived I’d have someone to cuddle with at night.” Suddenly, and with a rustle of fur, she turned to face him. He scooted back. “Relax, lieutenant. This isn’t where I have my way with you. I just prefer to sleep with my back to the fire.”

“Are you always so lewd?” he asked, the disapproval in his voice as clear as a church bell ringing across a courtyard.

“If you knew me you’d know the answer to that is yes.”

“I do not wish to know you, witch.”

“Good. You don’t deserve to.”

With these terse versions of “good night” exchanged, they settled against one another, though Peeta was careful to avoid the brush of her breasts. She smelled of sea and sweat and the musk of fur, but something sweet lay underneath all that. Lavender milk. A chamomile bath. Medicinal salves. Jasmine blossoms suspended in freshwater. Long tumbles downhill.

The smells soothed him, until he remembered she’d been locked in the brig for a month and shouldn’t smell anything but horrible. A spell then. He was surprised. He thought all Krellian magic was blood rituals and sacrifices, not a spell in place of perfume.

Despite himself, his eyelids grew heavy. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was of slinging an arm around her waist.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 9/17

LOOK ma I did it! I got it up on Sat! Look at me somehow managing myself. Remember when I used to upload at the same time every week haha where the fuck did that Crim go?? Anyways, enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brock, contrary to popular belief, liked surprises.

He tended to prefer being the one in control of the surprise, like giving Marcel a birthday party he didn’t know about or showing up to Craig’s job with his favorite muffin and coffee (the unicorn frappuccino, because of course). But being the one surprised could always be nice, too. He certainly got a thrill whenever he stepped onto the scale to see the weight he’d lost over the week, a sensation that used to always be tinged with dread or guilt. Now, twenty pounds smaller, Brock enjoyed looking at his progress, and he added it into the pile of surprises that he did enjoy. 

There were some surprises, however, that he didn’t like to think about. So when he opened his twitter to his ex’s ‘single’ status being switched to ‘in a relationship’, the rising feelings that bubbled inside of him were not welcomed. He didn’t give the negative thoughts time to grow before he was snatching the gym clothes off his bed, rushing to the gym. He needed distractions, needed something to shove the feelings down. 

He needed Brian. 

“Stop that.” He tried to keep the smile off his face when he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The free-weight was getting easier to lift as the days went by, but he still needed to focus on his form. Brian had told him that a good work-out could be ruined by not curling his arms properly, and he didn’t want to put his friend’s lesson to waste. The word friend echoed in his mind, the flash of the earlier status change hitting his chest. It wasn’t welcomed, so he took a slow breath, trying not to let his eyes flicker to the face popping up over his shoulder. 

“Nice shirt, muscles.” It was a stupid nickname from Brian, whose arm looked like a cover of health magazine. It was true that Brock had caved to Craig’s pestering and went to get actual work-out clothes, though it took one embarrassing slip of his baggy sweatpants off his hips the week before to agree to it. He’d been thankful that he hadn’t swiped a pair of his older pair of boxers that day, as Nogla and Anthony both confirmed they’d caught more than a peek at what he’d had underneath his waistband. Brian hadn’t been working on the weekend, though he was sure the others told him about the incident. 

“You’re distracting,” he muttered, forcing out another huff of concentrated air when curling the bar down for another rep. 

“You have no right to say that. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? Oh, wait...” The snicker and mischievous grin reflected by his shoulder showed that Brian knew he was being stupid. Brock tried not to blush at the flirtatious remark with a roll of his eyes. The gym was empty, Sunday nights never hosting many members. Brian was there to work-out himself, which Brock had known when making the rash decision to go to the gym that night. Though it was nice to have the support from Brian, it could also be...distracting. The flush he’d been avoiding before started to leak out when his eyes dipped to the collarbone uncovered by Brian’s shirt, lips twitching at the exposed skin. The thoughts he’d been trying to keep hidden in their interactions were growing with each day he got to spend with Brian. Brock hated the clash of shame and desire that mixed through the crevices of his ribcage with each smile and kind word Brian showered over him. 

It’s okay. He flirts back with you. This is okay. You are happy. You’re okay. His mind badgered the word into his head, but the mantra felt wrong today.  

“I have two more sets, then I’m all yours to bother.” Brock tried to placate Brian’s need for attention with a shaky smile. The strain of him arms was starting to hurt, but he didn’t want to give in yet. Each time he managed to push harder, he felt another piece of himself fit into place. His eyes closed to try and block out Brian’s distracting image behind him, fingers tightening on the bar to pull it up again. 

“You’ll be all mine, eh?” The murmured tease was probably meant to make Brock laugh, but the hot air that swept to the side of his ear sent a jolt of heat rushing through Brock’s body. Jerking at the sensation, his fingers released the bar in a panic. The pleasure that twisted in his stomach was suddenly doused with pain, his foot screaming. Brock’s eyes shot open when he hissed, his foot yanking out from the weight now crushing it. 

“Shit!” Brock didn’t like to swear in public, but the agony that rushed through his toe was enough for him to forget his manners. Tears rushed to his eyes, and Brock nearly stumbled back to the floor to grab his foot. Instead, he fell back into Brian’s chest, a strong arm quick to wrap around his waist to steady him.

“Brock, you okay?” Concern was nice to hear over teasing, but Brock struggled to focus on the tone with his foot burning like it was. With his teeth clenched, air struggled to get through the gaps when he bore the grimace at the floor. 

“I’m...okay.” Which was a lie, since he was sure he couldn’t put any weight on his foot without pain tearing through his leg. He didn’t want to move his toe, and his stomach twisted when realizing he’d probably sprained it. How long would that keep him out of the gym? Why had he let himself be so clumsy? 

“Yeah, and Nogla’s the queen of Ireland. Scotty, get me some ice packs and meet me in the locker room!” Brian’s voice showed no room for complaints when he barked the order out behind them. 

“I’m not sure I can walk that far right now.” It was embarrassing to admit, but Brock didn’t want to make the injury worse. 

“You’re not gonna.” Brian’s arm moved without hesitation, and it took Brock far too long to realize what Brian’s plan was. Panicked, Brock clutched at Brian’s shoulders and shook his head when feeling a warm forearm brush the back of his thighs.

“Yo-you can’t be serious! You can’t lift me, I’m too-”

“You’re perfect.” The serious edge in Brian’s voice drained the life from Brock’s self-deprecation, eyes looking for a fight when they stared down at Brock. “Whatever was going to come outta your mouth was going to be wrong. You aren’t anything but Brock, you got that? And if you think, for some reason, that I’d have any problem with carrying you…”

Brock’s chest expanded with fear and excitement when his legs were swept off the floor with ease, Brian’s arms barely flexing at the additional weight in his grasp. Brock had looped his hands behind the strong neck to help steady himself, but Brian didn’t look bothered by any of it. His gait was steady, body moving with an ease that wouldn’t be possible if it was under extreme strain. 

The fact that someone to lift him, could carry him, was both terrifying and amazing. Then again, thinking back while Brian moved them into the locker room, he couldn’t come up with a time that any of his exes had tried. None of them looked at Brock and had the desire to try. Brock had been okay with that, because he was always downplaying the romantic parts of his heart that dreamt of being small enough to be carried like that. But he hadn’t lost that much weight, and Brian had swept him up like it was nothing. Maybe it wasn’t a Brock problem, but an ex problem. Maybe they didn’t trust they’d be strong enough to carry him. 

Or maybe he’d never trusted someone not to drop him before Brian. 

“Put your leg up on the bench so I can check out your foot.” He was eased down onto the cold metal with enough room to prop his leg up, and Brock followed the command even as he shook his head.

“You don’t have to, I’m sweaty and my foot will-”

“Brock, I will kiss your foot if you don’t shut up.” Brock’s face finally fell victim to the heat he’d been trying to hide when Brian peered up at him from where he knelt, showing how ready he was to follow through with his threat. 

“Why would you do that?” He mumbled out, eyes too shy to stay on the honest gaze. They dropped to his lap, where twitchy fingers entangled themselves to keep from pushing Brian’s gentle touch on his ankle away. 

“Why does it surprise you that I want to make sure you’re okay?” The question wasn’t accusaroy, but curious as Brian took his time unlacing Brock’s shoe. The slow slide of the shoe and sock filled the silence as Brock’s mind flipped over the question, wondering what answer would be best. 

“Because…” His first intuition was to deny the claim, or to point out times that could pass as allowing help. But there was a caring slide to Brian’s palm against his ankle bone when he kept the foot imobile that showed more consideration than a simple gym buddy should have. A second set of tears hit Brock’s eyes as emotion overwhelmed him, the wave of loneliness crashing hard into his chest. 

For months, he’d been okay. Everytime someone asked, each time he saw his ex’s name pop up on his social media, every time someone brought up a memory of their relationship or a joke that made him think of their happier times, Brock was okay. That was just how Brock operated. When he wasn’t okay, others worried and were sad, which didn’t help anyone. He was healthier now, growing from the break-up and finding himself. Plus, his ex was a jerk. Brock was “better off without him” and “ready to find the right person” now that he’d moved on. His heart was already so warm with feelings that Brian gave him. So he should be okay, better than okay, because Brock was always okay even when he wasn’t okay. That was who he was supposed to be. The put-together friend that could take everything piled on his shoulders with a smile and a gentle shrug of his shoulders. To show he was okay, to let everyone else be okay, because he was okay okay okay-

But he wasn’t. 

“I’m not okay.” The confession was raw in his throat, shoulders hunched forward and eyelids blinking too hard not to show how badly he was trying to keep from crying. The gentle rubbing of Brian’s thumb on his ankle kept him grounded, but he couldn’t look up, fearful of the expression he’d receive. He felt like he was on the treadmill at the highest level, gasping for air that wasn’t ready to show itself. His fingers clutched the fabric of his pants when he closed his eyes, focusing on the circular patterns being drawn on his skin. 

“You don’t have to be. I’ll take care of you either way.” Brian’s voice didn’t sound panicked or dismayed at Brock’s breakdown. Brian somehow knew this wasn’t just about the injury, but he didn’t care. He said something nobody else had before him; Brock didn’t have to be okay. A chord that’d been stretched tight in Brock’s spine snapped as he slumped forward, head bowed down to hide the relief he felt at being given permission to crumble. His back shook from the pain in his foot, which was dwarfed by the agony that burst from his chest. The levy he’d held back with music and weigh-ins broke rapidly, and he drowned in it.  

Scotty said nothing when he came in with the ice pack, thankfully leaving quickly after. Brian kept quiet, only using soft words to let Brock know what he was doing in regards to Brock’s foot. He let Brock fall apart, let him put himself back together, and figure out how to be actually okay. Even when he walked Brock to his car, satisfied that the toe was simply bruised and not sprained, he did so with care. Because Brian did care, probably more than most before him. 

And somehow, Brock wasn’t surprised by that.

Okay this one was a little sadder than the others but its okay because love and stuff! this is a part of healing, is recognizing you’re human with emotions and expressing them appropriately. I hope that you enjoyed this! As always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think! 

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - two

notes: this story definitely isn’t taking off like i hoped it would, but honestly i don’t really care. this is the one project i’ve kept working on, and i’m almost done with it. for the twenty or so people that have liked and reblogged the past two chapters, thank you guys so much. i do realize that p.parker x reader imagines are always going to be more popular, but i’m really proud of this story, and how much i’ve put into it. 

dedicated to the wonderful anon that sent me a message last week, you really kept me inspired to keep uploading. if you ever choose to make a blog, please shoot me a message, i’d love to become friends! i struggle with anxiety too, so i would understand if you didn’t haha

contains: swearing, probably

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 4.7k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

“UH, IT’S NOTHING—NOTHING!” Spider-Man shouted back, his voice growing increasingly high-pitched. He looked back at the boy with wide eyes.

“You’re the Spider-Man,” the boy said breathlessly. He seemed to have not noticed Marin yet. “From YouTube.”

Spider-Man, apparently forgetting that there was a girl in the room, smacked the emblem on his chest, his suit deflating and Marin watched as it pooled around his ankles in a red and blue puddle of cloth—leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Marin stared unabashedly at the hero’s chiseled chest and stomach. “I’m not, I’m not!” He protested desperately.

“You were on the ceiling!”

“No, I wasn’t—Ned, what are you doing in my room?!”

“May let me in! You said we were going to finish the Death Star!”

“That was the Death Star?” Marin blurted, causing the boy—Ned—to whip around at the sound of her voice.

Before anyone could react, the door to Spider-Man’s room opened, revealing a beautiful woman in her fifties waving a rag in front of her face as a cloud of smoke trailed in from behind her. Spider-Man scrambled over to Ned, subtly nudging the suit underneath a pile of loose clothing with his foot.

“That turkey meatloaf recipe is a disaster!” The woman laughed, pulling out her clip and letting her long chestnut hair spill over her shoulders. Finally getting a good look around the room, her eyes immediately landed on Marin. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know Peter had a girl over! I don’t believe he’s introduced us yet?”

Marin’s eyes flicked over to the half-naked boy who looked very uncomfortable to be caught in this situation. So that was his name. “Oh—I’m, uh, Marin.” She smiled at the woman. Luckily, the room was dark enough to hide the dark shadow of dried blood crusting on her chin.

“I’m May, Peter’s aunt; nice to meet you! So, let’s go to dinner. Thai? Ned, Marin, you want Thai?”

“Yes,” Ned said immediately, ogling at May, but Peter shook his head.

“No.” He answered for them. “They’ve got a thing to do.”

“A thing to do… after.” Ned tried to reason with Peter.

“Well that’s too bad, Ned, but Marin has to come! You’ve never brought a girl home, Peter!” She backed away, clearly refusing to take no for an answer. As she was halfway out the door, she gestured to Peter’s naked chest. “Maybe put on some clothes, especially in front of female company, Pete.”

As soon as the door shut behind her, Ned whisper-yelled, “Oh, she doesn’t know?!”

Peter whirled around, grabbing the closest shirt and tugging it on roughly. “Nobody knows! Well, expect Marin, and now you. And Mr. Stark knows because he made my suit, but that’s it!”

“You know Tony Stark?” Marin gasped the same time Ned choked, “Tony Stark made you that?!”

Peter looked exasperated.

“Are you an Avenger?” Ned gasped.

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, basically.” Marin’s eyes widened with no small amount of awe.

Ned grabbed the railing of the top bunk like he was going to faint. Peter stepped in close to him. “Ned you cannot tell anybody about this, you have to keep it a secret,” Peter begged.

“A secret? Why?”

“You know what she’s like!” Peter gestured at the door, presumably referring to his aunt. “If she finds out people try and kill me every single night, she’s not gonna let me do this anymore!” He was quiet, but his voice was squeaky. “C’mon, Ned, please.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll level with you. I don’t think I can keep this a secret—this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me! Peter—!”

“Ned, May cannot know—I cannot do that to her right now. You know?” Peter’s voice wavered. “I mean, with everything that’s happened with her, I… please.”

Marin glanced at Peter, whose back was facing her. She could hear the familiar heartache laced in his pleading tone, and she silently wondered what this boy had been through to make him sound like that.

“Okay,” Ned relented after a brief pause.

“Just… swear it, okay?”

“I swear.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

“I cannot believe this is happening right now.” Peter paces, his hands flying up to his hair, reminding Marin of the night they first met.

“Can I try the suit on?”

“No.”

“How does it work? Is it magnets? How do you shoot the strings?”

Marin giggled at Ned’s curiosity, how he managed to shift the mood from sullen to hyper in mere seconds. She watched Peter groan in frustration.

“I’m gonna tell you about this at school tomorrow.” Peter said, hurrying Ned out the door.

“Great.” Ned nodded but stopped short at the door. “Wait! You!” He turned, pointing accusingly at Marin. Her eyes widened. “How do you know about this? Peter, how do you know her?”

“Uh,” Marin stammered, blood rushing up her neck to her cheeks and ears.

“Uh, the internship! Yeah, we met through the internship.” Peter nodded like he was trying to convince himself, too. Marin was strangely grateful that he wasn’t revealing her powers. Wait, she thought. What internship?

“So… how do you do this… and the internship?” Ned queried.

Peter stared at him in disbelief. “This… is the internship.”

Ned let out a long ahhhh as Peter pushed him out the door. When he shut it behind him, he grimaced, clutching his head.

After a moment, as Peter reflected to himself, Marin tried breaking the silence. “That went well.”

Peter huffed. “Why are you even still here?” He muttered, grabbing the closest pair of sweatpants and pulling them on angrily.

Marin paled, stunned at Peter’s sudden harshness. She opened her mouth, about to either apologize or defend herself, when the door swung open, and May peeked her head in the room.

“You two ready for Thai?”

+++

To say dinner was awkward would be the understatement of the century.

May insisted that Marin take a seat next to Peter, who sat stiffly in his chair the whole time, refusing to look Marin in the eye, and say no more than two words at a time. Marin had guzzled down water from the sink in the restaurant’s bathroom as soon as they’d arrived, so the blooming bruise on her nose and cheek could heal before May would notice, as well as wash away any dried blood. Her entire face still ached from the injuries and the weird tingly feeling she got when she used her powers to heal herself, but at least she didn’t look beat up anymore.

“So… how did you two meet?” May attempted to alleviate the tension.

“Um, the… internship?” Marin supplied uncertainly when Peter stayed silent. She still didn’t know what internship Peter had meant, but she knew that it was in her best interest to keep the stories the same if she wanted to keep her secret from Ned and May.

“The internship…” May repeated wearily, shaking her head. Marin felt a spike of panic. Did she not know about the internship? Or did she know about it, and know that she was lying? May poked at her larb. “I have to tell you… not a fan of that Tony Stark. Peter’s distracted all the time; he’s got him in his head.”

Marin snuck a wide-eyed glance in Peter’s direction while May’s head was down at her plate. Not only did he have a suit made by Tony Stark, but he also worked for him?! Peter raised his head to look incredulously at May.

On the TV behind May, Marin recognized the image that was being shown on the local news. It was the dilapidated remains of the corner store from earlier that night—Delmar’s Deli shop, it was apparently called.

“…after an ATM robbery was thwarted by Queens’ own colorful local crime stopper: Spider-Man, accompanied by an unidentified ally. As they attempted to foil their heist, a powerful blast was sett off, slicing through the bodega across the street. Miraculously, no one was harmed. Officials have not yet been able to identify the other powered individual shown in the CCTV footage, but experts say that she has the ability to control water.”

Marin was still studying the clips of the CCTV footage when May turned around to face her and Peter. “If you two spot something like that happening, you turn and you run the other way.”

Marin shared a look with Peter when May was distracted. He made some sort of words of agreement and mentioned something about a new backpack. Marin had lost focus as she worried about being recorded and broadcasted over the news—her face was obscured and her clothes were generic and non-descript enough to conceal her identity, but if there was any chance that Charles was monitoring social media for her location, she knew he could recognize her in an instant. Besides, she doubted that there was a lot of hydrokinetics apart from herself, and especially not ones that coincidentally show up on the news the same day they run away. The only thing she could do was hope that Charles wouldn’t see it.

“Oh, Marin!” May said suddenly, causing Marin to jump in her seat, caught off guard. “I meant to ask, how are you getting home? Do you need a ride?”

Marin winced slightly, shaking her head as her cheeks warmed. “No, I don’t really… I don’t really have a home, right now.” She shrugged and took a bite of her noodles.

“What?” May cried out, looking distressed. Marin’s heart throbbed at the genuine concern in her eyes. “What about your parents?”

“Um…” Marin gulped, glancing briefly at an equally confused Peter before staring down at her dinner. The food rolled uncomfortably in her stomach. “My parents… um, are dead.”

“Oh, honey,” May sighed sympathetically. “But… you must live with someone, right? What about any relatives?”

Marin shook her head. If she had any, she certainly didn’t know them. She searched for an explanation that was as truthful as she was willing, without giving away the hint that she was a mutant. She obviously didn’t know Peter’s secret, and Marin still didn’t want to reveal that particular secret yet (if ever). Besides, even if she hadn’t resolved to keep it from Peter, Marin knew how humans normally reacted to mutants, anyway. “I lived in a… group home, but they, uh, kicked me out today, so…”

May shook her head defiantly. “You can stay with us for the time being. Right, Pete?”

Marin risked a peek at the boy, who stared at her with shock, guilt, and empathy in his warm brown eyes. He nodded. She smiled gratefully at the kind, beautiful woman, and finished her dinner with a newfound sense of hope.

Back at the apartment, Peter pulled Marin into his room.

“Marin… I’m sorry,” he wrung his hands together nervously. “For what I said earlier, I didn’t know that you… that your parents…”

“It’s alright, Peter.” She smiled sweetly at him, and he looked strangely relieved. For all that he could snap at people, Marin saw the genuine kindness in him, and it warmed her heart.

“For what it’s worth,” Peter looked down at his bare feet, his dark curls falling around his head. “My parents are dead, too.” Marin nodded, giving him a knowing smile. She didn’t console him; she knew that he didn’t need it, just as she didn’t. It made sense to her, then, why Peter lived alone with his aunt.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” He asked eventually. Marin nodded.

After staring at her for a moment, Peter reached into his closet and pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts. “Here,” he handed the bundle of clothes to her. “These were from… before, so they should fit you.”

Marin didn’t know how Peter got his powers, but he obviously wasn’t born with them if his aunt didn’t know about them. So, she assumed by ‘before’, he meant before his transformation. She took the clothes with a shy smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Marin noticed the reddening of Peter’s stuck-out ears when she exited the bathroom, wearing his clothes. Grinning to herself, she helped Peter put a sheet over the couch’s cushions and grabbed a blanket and pillow. As she tucked herself into the makeshift bed, Peter went to turn off the table lamp.

“Goodnight, Peter.” She whispered into the darkness.

“Goodnight, Marin.” He responded just as softly, and she didn’t need to see him to know that Peter was smiling warmly down at her.

+++

Waking up early the next morning wasn’t as insufferable as one would expect it to be.

Used to early mornings from her days at the Institute, Marin had no trouble waking up at seven-thirty in the morning to walk Ned and Peter to school. For all May knew, Marin had been previously homeschooled, and didn’t expect Marin to keep up those sorts of appearances. But Marin had plans for the day, and she figured she might as well get an early start.

Marin sipped quietly on her ice-cold bottle of water as she and Peter descended the floors of the apartment complex in the elevator.

Once they exited the building, Ned was already waiting for them with a plethora of odd questions.

Marin laughed and rolled her eyes at the inane questions Ned had come up with, but the group of three slowed down once they reached the intersection where Marin and Spider-Man had been the previous night.

“Whoa,” Ned breathed. “You were here?”

Police officers and firefighters swarmed in and out of the two damaged buildings, emergency vehicles blocking off the center square pavement between them. Marin felt light-headed as she took in the extent of the damage, now easily exposed in the daylight.

“And you were with that other dude, right? The water-bender?” Ned asked.

Marin wasn’t sure whether to be offended or relieved that people thought she was a boy in the footage. “”’Water-bender’?” She scoffed because she definitely hadn’t heard that one before.

Peter gave her a warning look, but Ned only shrugged. “That’s what people are calling her on Twitter, at least.” He looked at Peter. “But you could’ve died, though, Peter.”

A moment of eerie silence passed as the three assessed the scene in front of them, only to be interrupted by Ned.

“Do you lay eggs?”

+++

Marin parted ways with Peter and Ned after they reached the edges of their high school. “Are you sure you’re fine getting back by yourself?” Peter had asked when Ned walked ahead and out of earshot.

Marin had given him a knowing smirk. “I can handle myself just fine, webs.”

He had hesitantly nodded, pulling away from her and giving her a small wave before disappearing into the sea of teenagers. Marin looked longingly at the camaraderie she noticed between groups of friends, before turning determinedly on her heel.

Shoving her hands into her hoodie’s pockets and her bottle tucked under her arm, Marin made her way back to the Metro entrance. She’d borrowed Peter’s spare metro card, taking the J train over to the East River, then switching to the F train to get to Midtown Manhattan. The train cars were smelly and packed with bodies, but Marin found a surprising comfort in the new sensation of becoming invisible in a crowd of strangers.

Stepping out into the busy streets of Manhattan, Marin took a deep breath in through her nose to settle her jumping nerves. According to a tourist map she’d picked up while waiting for the F train, her destination couldn’t have been far.

Sure enough, it only took her ten minutes of maneuvering the streets of the busy city to reach it. Folding the map back up, she tucked it into her jeans’ back pocket and adjusted her grip on her water bottle. Draining the rest of her water for courage, Marin marched her way inside the Stark Tower.

Unsure of where to go, but determined to get there, Marin stopped at the front desk in the lobby, presuming it was some sort of receptionist’s desk. A woman sat perched in the ergonomic chair, her acrylic nails tapping away at a fancy, touch-screened device.

“Hi, I’m here to see Tony Stark.” Marin announced, and the lady glanced up at her, unimpressed. She belatedly wondered if Mr. Stark was even here.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked, bored.

Marin clenched her jaw. Nuts, she thought, what do I do now? Panicking, Marin blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I’m his daughter.”

The lady narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Mr. Stark doesn’t have a daughter.”

“Tell that to my mother,” Marin sneered her lie. “I need to speak to my father. Immediately. My mother is dying and I need to speak to him.”

“I don’t—”

“I’ll scream.” Marin threatened, placing a flat hand on the desk, leaning over as menacingly as she could. “And I’ll be sure to tell everyone that Tony Stark had his orphaned daughter dragged out by security.”

The lady glared up at her but eventually pulled out a phone. “Mr. Hogan? A girl is in the lobby, claiming that she is Mr. Stark’s daughter.” A pause as Mr. Hogan responded. “Her mother is apparently dying and she needs to speak to Mr. Stark.” Another pause, this one longer. “Alright, I’ll send her up.”

Marin smiled sweetly as the lady handed her a visitor’s badge, one that allowed access to the top several floors. She told her what floor to go to with a poorly restrained scowl.

Marin clipped the badge to her hoodie and jogged over to the closest elevator. There was already a crowd of people crammed into the boxcar, and Marin asked a gentleman in a nice suit to press the button that flashed ‘97’.

Sweat gathered on her chest and uncomfortably ran down the groove between her breasts, causing her to grimace and rub it away as discreetly as she could. Both men and women exited and entered the elevator as it stopped several times throughout the trip, and by the time she reached the thirtieth floor, she was the only passenger left.

Now that the car was empty and blissfully devoid of nicely-dressed adults, Marin noticed soft piano music flowing from the speakers above her. She tugged off her hoodie and straightened her faded and slightly distressed Led Zeppelin shirt. Marin stared at her reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator’s car, nervously rearranging her bangs.

The elevator dinged musically as the doors opened to reveal floor ninety-seven. It was a massively open space, with luxurious black couches surrounding possibly the biggest flat-screen TV Marin had ever seen, and a fully furnished kitchen on the opposite side—complete with polished marble countertops and fancy kitchen appliances of all kinds. Marin stepped out onto a plush rug that covered the narrowed entrance that led from the elevator to the rest of the room, privately wanting to take off her shoes so she could run her toes through the soft fibers.

She glimpsed around, and when she didn’t see anyone, she called out, “Hello? Mr. Stark?”

“Who the hell are you?” A voice spoke up from behind her. Marin whirled around, coming face-to-face with the man she’d idolized for years. Even through his long sleeve shirt and a graphic tee over it, she could still see the faintly circular glow of his arc reactor.

Reigning in her excitement, she thrust out her hand. “I’m Marin Frost.”

Tony Stark looked down at her hand and back up to her face. He tentatively took her hand and shook it. “Tony Stark. Now, what are you doing here, kid?”

“I’m not actually your daughter,” Marin confessed sheepishly, and Mr. Stark rolled his eyes.

“No shit, kid. Although, you probably could be the right age…” he trailed off thoughtfully.

“Trust me, I’m not.” She rocked on her heels. “I’m here to talk about a position.”

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow. “A position, huh? What for?”

“To be an Avenger.” She simply said, and he just stared at her.

“Okay, we’re done here.” He grabbed her shoulder, pushing her toward the elevator. “You—”

“Wait!” She cried. “I know Peter!”

Mr. Stark stilled behind her, then turned her around. “Peter Parker?” He looked at her suspiciously.

“Yes. Well—I don’t know his last name, but—”

“And how do you know him? School? Neighbors? Lovers?”

Marin grimaced. “No to all of them. I’ve got powers, too.” She said, and Mr. Stark released her, giving her a signal to explain. “I met Peter a few months ago when I tried to stop a robbery, but he was already there—but I had to go back home and I hadn’t seen him until yesterday, when I got kicked out of my home and went to Queens to find Spider-Man—but then I learned that his name is Peter and that he worked for you; so I came to find you because I want to be an Avenger and help save people.” Marin rushed out to explain.

Tony Stark looked at her for a solid minute, presumably trying to decide whether she was lying or not. Or crazy.

Eventually, he just sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “You want something to eat, kid?” He strutted past her into the kitchen. Nodding, Marin followed and sat at the kitchen’s bar, facing the billionaire as he pulled out some grapes. “Sorry, haven’t restocked in a while.”

Stacking them in a ceramic bowl, Mr. Stark handed the grapes to the girl. She picked at them ravenously, not realizing how hungry she was until she had food in her mouth. Mr. Stark watched her scarf down the grapes, looking concerned.

“So… you got kicked out of your home?” When Marin nodded, Mr. Stark asked why.

Marin’s hand hovered momentarily as she reached to pluck a grape from the stem. “They hated me,” she whispered, almost ashamed. “The other kids hated me, or feared me for what I could do, and I was alone. Even the adults, it turns out,” she laughed dryly. “They all thought I was some sort of… monster. And they wanted to control me—to lock me away so I couldn’t hurt anyone else like they… like they thought I wanted to.” Her face crumpled in disgust. “They thought that I liked hurting people. I wasn’t—I didn’t really get kicked out, but I never belonged there. I left because I was never supposed to stay, and it’s not like anyone wanted me to stay, either. I couldn’t stand to stay in a place where no one believed me. Where no one knew who I really was, and still hated me anyway.”

Her eyes burned and her nose ached like she was going to cry, but she held it back, instead, distracting herself with picking the rest of the grapes from the stem. She blinked until the tears cleared from her vision, and was surprised to see empathy on Tony’s face. She cleared her throat, and he nodded.

“So, what can you do, Marin?” He asked, obviously changing the subject, for which Marin was grateful.

“I can manipulate water,” she started, grabbing her empty water bottle and unscrewing the lid. “Can you fill this up, please?” She handed it to Mr. Stark, who obliged. When he handed it back, now full, she set it down in front of her and pulled out a sphere of water about the size of her fist with her mind. “I can freeze it, boil it, grab things with it, and I can even use it to heal minor wounds on other people, though I’m better at healing myself.”

Tony looked mildly impressed as she shifted the water between phases to prove her point, which was more than she was expecting.

“And I have nine years of martial arts training, as well as expert aim with weapons of all kinds. I’m also interested in fluid mechanics, obviously, and mechanical engineering. I’ve also dabbled in some types of physics. I particularly enjoy quantum physics.” Marin listed.

Tony Stark stared into her eyes for a beat. “Where are you from, kid?” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Marin through narrowed eyes. “How’d you get these powers?”

“I was born with them.” It was technically the truth, although she wasn’t about to tell him her secret. Even though she had the advantage of knowing Peter now, she still wasn’t certain that if she told Mr. Stark the complete truth, he wouldn’t send her back to the Institute.

Mr. Stark sighed. “Yeah, but where are your parents?”

“They died when I was six.” She stated, chewing on another grape. She siphoned the blob of water back into her container. “’s why I was sent to a group home.”

“And you want to be an Avenger, is that right?”

“I do.” Marin straightened in her seat, tilting her chin up confidently.

Tony Stark paused. “Got a code name?”

Marin grimaced, recalling the awful name given to her as an X-Man. “Not any good ones.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “We’ll come up with something.”

Marin grinned.

+++

“Marin, you home?” Peter’s voice carried through the apartment later that day, to where Marin lounged against the sofa with a random book in her hands. “Marin we’ve gotta talk—is that a Stark hoodie?”

Marin caught Peter’s eye, smiling. “Yeah! I went to his house today—I was lucky to catch him right before he left for India or something—and I—”

“Wait, wait, wait, what?!” Peter threw his backpack off his shoulder and came to sit next to her on the couch. “What do you mean, you went to his house?! You mean the Tower? Why on earth would you go there; I thought you were trying to lay low!”

Marin creased her eyebrows. “Well if you would let me finish—I showed him my powers and asked if I could join the Avengers!”

Peter stared at her with his jaw dropped. “What?!”

“He was impressed by my abilities, and even though I can’t join the Avengers—because apparently, they’re not a ‘thing’ right now, or whatever—he knows that I don’t really have a home and I guess he felt really bad for me, because he was going to let me stay in a hotel for a while,” she rambled excitedly. “But I told him that I was staying with you for now, and he didn’t like that I wasn’t going to school so he went ahead and enrolled me in yours!”

A brief moment of silence passed. Suddenly, Peter shot to his feet with his hands in his hair and paced the living room. Marin was grateful that May was out on a grocery run at the moment. “What the hell; what the hell?! You’re going to Midtown now?! You don’t even have an official guardian!”

“Oh, Mr. Stark said he’d take care of that stuff,” Marin interjected. She tilted her head in thought. “I don’t know why May doesn’t like him—he seems like a really nice guy!”

Peter slumped back down on the couch. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

“I—” Marin started, but then realized how distressed Peter seemed. “What’s wrong?”

Peter exhaled. “Ned told everyone in our gym class that I ‘know’ Spider-Man,” he made quotations with his fingers, then passed a hand through his hair. Marin was beginning to recognize it as a nervous tick. “And there’s this guy at my school who hates me for some reason, and he doesn’t even believe that I’ve got the internship with Mr. Stark. So, he convinced me to go to this really popular girl’s party tomorrow night, and bring Spider-Man as my guest. I don’t even like parties,” he whined, throwing his head back against a cushion.

Marin thought for a moment, before suggesting, “I could come with you? Maybe I could wear the suit and pretend to be you?”

Peter sat up, shaking his head. “No; knowing Flash, he’s gonna want to make you show off your powers, and you can’t very well climb up onto the ceiling, too.”

So, it’s not the suit that lets him do that, she noted. “Maybe I could distract them, then? Tell them you ran off to find him while Spider-Man shows up, and leave shortly after?”

Peter thought for a few seconds and nodded slowly. “That… could work.”

Marin clapped once, rising to her feet. “Alright, let’s get this party started!”

Peter just rolled his eyes.

[serahsanguine]

Vacation Series Pt. 1 - Let The Games Commence. Ch, 5

This is the first book in a two-part series. This book is a six-part story which will be upload daily for the next week. After that, it will be Book two following the same pattern. it was originally made for the Summer Fanfic Exchange.

Tumblr - pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4 All chapters can be found Here on Ao3

This Chapter Rating; NC-17 NSFW

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @peacenik0

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          Chapter 5: Day Four - The Admission

Scully woke up to the feeling of a man’s arm around her stomach, and a hand creating small circles on the underside of her breast. The smell of sex and masculine cologne invaded her nose. She could feel the swell of a man’s erection placed against her back, and a soft snore light touching her neck and hair. She smiled inwardly as the memories of the previous night affairs came back to her, of how she and Mulder had finally crossed the line. It was something beautiful and magical. 

As he laid there asleep next to her, she rolled over and studied his face: his frown line flat as his sleep was peaceful, and his eyes were fluttering as his dreams run their course; his nose, long and pointy but ever so beautiful matching his face; his pouty lips around and succulent breathing moisture on her face.

She kissed his forehead, then each cheek and his nose before placing her lips on his, gently barely touching them. But it was enough to arouse him from his slumber.

“Hey Beautiful,” he sounded sleep ridden but happy.

“Good morning,” she said as she carried on, working her lips away from his face to his clavicle and down his deeply tanned chest. Instead of his usual paleness, it was a golden bronze. She kept trailing her kissed down to his stomach stopping just above the v of his legs, placing small kisses of both hips. She was so gentle and he looked like he was loving it.

Her tongue darted out to taste his tip: she barely touched it and it twitched under her tongue. Next, he felt her blow cold air, it sent shattering goosebumps across his skin. This time his whole body twitched. He next felt her tongue so smooth and delicate as she ran it on the underside of his cock. She was teasing him, dragging it out, she knew what she was doing. She lent over, her hair sprayed like a fan across his stomach. Tickling him but only enhancing the sensation. However, he still wanted to see her face, so he pushed it back. Her chiselled to perfection cheeks hollowed and her blue eyes darkened with lust and desire. Her full crimson and ever so soft moist lips opened up and engulfed his entire length. He felt his cock hit the back of her throat. Then he felt her trace his veins with her tongue. His undoing was when she slowly lifted her head, her teeth lightly scraping his length. God, she is beautiful. He felt the pressure building and his climax was coming close to exploding. He tried so hard to hold it back and enjoy the sensation. But she was just too good and control of what she was doing. He tried to tell her, but couldn’t form the words: he was just lost in her mouth. He felt his toes starting to curl, his body went rigid and the pressure erupted from him. His essence flowing from him into her mouth. She lapped him up, drinking him empty, before letting him go. 

“We should really get up,” she said

“I think I have already done that,” he replied in a mocking tone. 

Scully lightly swatted him on his arm, wrapping a blanket around her before walking through to the bathroom. He soon heard the water running so he decided to join her. It was another hour before they had breakfast.

They were both dressed and sitting at the table; the sun was steady through the windows and there was no evidence of the storm from yesterday. They both thought a simple breakfast would be enough so they had blueberry pancakes and maple syrup. Mulder finished his last bite and stared at her, just like he had yesterday but this time he could touch and taste her.  

Scully was licking her fingers clean when suddenly she grabbed Mulder’s wrist pulling his fingers to her lips. She placed a small kiss there and then his index finger went into the depths of her mouth. The sensation of his finger in her mouth was quite an erotic feeling. Her mouth felt warm, her tongue felt rough, warm and bumpy, soft and slick. She swished her tongue around his finger, devouring it before releasing it with a pop. She did this with each finger including his thumb. It seemed like she didn’t even care that some of his fingers didn't even taste of food. 

“Enjoy that, did we?” he said when she let go of his hand.

“Very.”

“We really should stop by the boys and apologize for leaving so abruptly.”

“Yes, we should. I would just like to point out it was not my idea to play strip poker.”

“No, my dear Scully, it wasn’t. But you did suggest poker.”

She made a small huff noise. He was right but damned if she was going to admit that to him. 

They cleaned their plates, dried them and put them back in their places. They walked over to the main house. Byers and Frohike looked like they were having an intense game of chess. And Langly was proofreading the latest issue of The Lone Gunmen newspaper.

Mulder sat down on the sofa and Scully sat on the chair. Langly sat up, putting his paper down next to him. 

“Who’s winning?” Mulder asked Langly

“It’s the first game, and they play best two out of three. So, who knows...”

Then suddenly Frohike spoke.

“Someone broke the upstairs sink yesterday, I wonder what happened?”

Scully turned red so quickly. She looked down, keeping her eyes off everyone and staring at a dot on the floor. They all spent five minutes without talking, all they could hear in the room was the click of the timmer and the chess pieces moving on the board.

The silence was soon broken when Frohike announced checkmate. And then she heard Mulder quickly blurt something out. She turned to face him not quite hearing what he had said and apparently neither had the Gunmen. She watched him take a deep breath. And his cheeks turned slightly crimson in colour. 

“Umm, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to break it. We got carried away and we were drunk...”  There was a short pause and she sneaked a peek at the Lone Gunmen all three had straight faces giving nothing away. “Shit, guys, we’re sorry, okay? I’ll pay for any damages.” 

Then suddenly all three of them burst out laughing. Scully looked at them with confusion and that only made them laugh harder. She slumped in her seat and waited for them to stop. 

“Mulder, there’s no need to pay for damages, nothing was broken! We got you big time”

“Fuck you, guys,” Mulder said.

“You’re lucky I am on vacation or I would shoot each and every one of you,” Scully delivered angrily.

That shut all three of them right up and this time it was Mulder’s and Scully’s turn to laugh.

They left the Lone Gunmen shortly after and spent the remainder of the day walking the shoreline, talking about the future. They had a small picnic together and saw some wild horses gallop. 

It was getting late, the sun had disappeared on the horizon many hours ago. The temperature was still warm, even with the stars fluttering in the sky. 

Mulder felt hot and sticky and that was when an idea popped into his head. He looked at Scully, who was holding her sandals in one hand and a flaming torch in the other.  

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?”

She lifted her left eyebrow up it true Scully fashion. 

“No, I haven’t. And I don't intend to.”

“Are you sure? I bet the water is warm.”

Without warning, he placed the picnic basket he was holding at his feet. He took off his brown tank top and chucked it on the ground. Next were his shorts and boxers. He ran into the lapping waves and started to swim into the open waters. 

Scully stood there holding the flaming torch, watching in awe as the man she loved stripped in front of her and ran to the sea. She couldn’t help staring at the flames flickering across his tanned skin, the shadows dancing across his muscles. She licked her lips, they had suddenly become dry and her throat suddenly constricted. A pool off moisture forming in between her legs as she watched his firmly shaped backside run to the shoreline and disappear into the sea.

She sat on one of the sand dunes nearby and about 5 minutes later she saw his head bob back off the waves.

“Come on in Scully, the water is lovely.” She shook her head. “Come in!” And then he said those two little words, those two words that could make her do anything: “Trust me.” 

In no time she undid the knot around her neck, sliding the dress down her body, letting it fall to her ankles. She picked up the torch, and then her dress and his clothes as well, placing them all into the picnic basket. Then she set the torch back down in the sand. If I’m going to do this, I might as well go all in. She moved her hand around to her back, unclasping her strapless bra and placing at the basket too. Next was her lace panties, she glided them down her bare legs. She honestly could not believe she was about to do this. She walked up to the shoreline letting the waves tickle the tips of her toes. Taking a deep breath before walking into the sea following Mulder’s voice. He was right, the water is warm. 

Mulder had moved closer to her. His feet were touching the sea bed but she was still treading water. He soon noticed and wrapped his arms around her midframe pulling her to him. She instantly wrapped her legs around his hips and lent into his forearms.

They just stayed there and stared at each other, the moonlight splashing down its watery white-silver glow onto the sea bathing them, illuminating them, lessening the inky blackness of the night. The stars speckled and glittered in the heavens above them. In the distance, the trees were silhouetted against the duly lit house that overlooked the shore.

He kissed her cheek and then the crook of her neck, tasting the salt from the sea mixed in with the suncream she had applied earlier.

She felt his erection pressed against her inner thigh. There was something magical about this night she looked into his eyes and saw everything that needed to be said. 

He saw her eyes lock onto his, their eyes spoke where the mouths didn’t. He slithered his hand in between their bodies, grabbing his cock and bringing it towards her entrance easily slipping into her warmth. She moaned as the sea lapped up against her back.

She felt him in, filling her completely. His wet chest scraping against her taut nipples sending even more pleasure jolting through her body. He started rocking his hips at an extremely slow pace. Her legs clinging to him, her hips rocking in time with him. 

She felt incredible, she matched his pace. Though he knew she wanted to go faster, he wanted to prolong it as much as possible. But soon wasn't able to control himself as he felt the familiar tension coil up within him. He was lost in the sensation of her, her scent, her skin, her warmth. 

She felt so close now, his hips moving faster and less controlled. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she brought her lips to his. This kiss was so shamelessly hearty. So heartfelt, so fierce and decidedly telling him everything that he needed to know, her fears, her wishes and, most importantly, her love for him. She took his pouty bottom lip in her teeth and bit down as her body convulsed, her lower body twitched. As she felt her orgasm rip through her.

He felt her walls swallow him, pulse by pulse. And the coil that had sprung had broken and he emptied himself into her. He placed his head in the crook of her neck and bathed in the aftermath of the lovemaking.

She looked at him, and he saw something that he had never seen before.

“I love you,” she said.

He looked straight back at her and said, 

“I love you too.”

She placed her head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heart. She closed her eyes focusing on it. She felt him walk her to shore, never letting her go. 

She must have fallen asleep in his arms because the next thing she felt was the cool sheets being wrapped around her body and the warmth of him spooning against her back. She let her sleep overtake her, feeling safe and completely spent. 

Even though his body craved sleep, they had finally said the words, giving them a promise for a future. An undying declaration that they would be there for one another no matter what. He was right when he said the words a couple of days ago and he meant them.

He felt so much like wanting to have a family with her, to raise their children: half his, half hers. Maybe a little girl or a little boy with her complexion and her freckles. Her nose, the poor child would be cursed with his nose. With his hazel eyes and her red hair. A mixture of her inner strength and his loyalty. A passion for science and his sense of believing something that can’t be proven.

He yawned, finally feeling sleepy, and he nestled his face into her hair. His last thoughts were for her. Maybe one day we will have the dream, maybe one day we won't need to fear the future. 

[a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan]

LinkedUniverse Fanfic ch. 3: The Beach

Stop! You’ve Violated the Law!

So, you’ve stumbled upon this original post for my Linked Universe fanfiction. That’s okay, it happens to everyone. As of March 2021, I’ve uploaded the entirety of this fanfic to my Archive of Our Own page. Along with finally giving the story a name--Oops! All Links: A Linked Universe Story--I made substantial edits to some of the chapters. These range from minor stylistic revisions to fixing a gaping plot hole that kinda completely broke the character conflict in the earlier chapters. I also renamed and renumbered (but not reordered) the chapters. Specifically, this is now Chapter 4: Sand and Salt.

The AO3 iterations of these chapters are the definitive versions. So, if you would like to read this fanfiction, please do so on AO3, right here. With this embedded link. Hehe. Geddit? Link?

Note: My screen name on AO3 is FrancisDuFresne. Yes, that is me. I am not plagiarizing myself.

Anyway, for posterity’s sake, the rest of the original post is below the cut.

I’ve settled into a narrative at this point, this being the third in a series of fanfics based on @jojo56830‘s @linkeduniverse. I absolutely love working with these characters, and TBH I’ve never bothered writing fiction before. Word count: 1474. Enjoy! (edit: renamed to match the rest of my narrative)

“Where are we?” The Hero of the Four Sword managed through a yawn. “Last I remember…”

“Shhh…” The Hero of the Sky whispered. He was crouched beside Four. He pointed ahead into what looked like a great white blur. “Don’t ruin his moment.”

Four squinted into the blinding light. Gradually, the image cleared. Four let out a gasp as he realized his surroundings. He tried to stand to get a better look but found his limbs heavy as lead. He fell back in the sand. “Let me ask again,” he said in a whisper this time. “Where are we?”

The sun beat down on the young heroes. Seagulls and the rush of waves filled their ears, and Four could make out some laughing ahead. He turned his head toward it and found the Hero of the Wind stripping down to his undergarments as he dashed towards the vast ocean ahead of them.

“For starters,” Twilight began, glancing down at Four. “We made it out of that damned cave. The stalfos were no match for us once you pulled that fancy move of yours.”

Four’s eyes shot open. Evidently, he forgot he had used the power of his sword. He had never told his companions about it, but now it seemed the cat was out of the bag. “Oh. Uh. Listen guys, I know you might be upset—“

Legend cut him off with a laugh. “Upset? What, that you never told us about it? Well, a little bit. But it saved our hides back there. Tell us about it.”

Time held his arm out in front of Legend. “Give him a moment,” he said with a smile. He cocked head toward the glittering ocean. “Give us all a moment. I think we earned it.”

At this point, Wind was well into the water, jumping into the waves and letting them batter him around. His laughing between gulps of air carried over to the rest of them. Wild began undoing his cloak and baldric. The others looked at him. “What?” He asked. “Time’s right. We earned a moment.”

They shared a collective chuckle and began following Wild’s lead. Four was getting his energy back, so he stood and started undressing himself. With a jolt, he realized his sword and shield were missing. A panic set in. “Guys!” he called. “Where are my weapons?!”

Legend, trying to slide off his gold bracelet, turned around and ran backwards. He yelled back “In my pouch, don’t worry about it!”

Four grinned and ran in after his friends. They had taken good care of him while he was out. There’s something else, though, he thought to himself. Who carried me out? The water around his ankles splashed him as he ran, breaking him out of his thoughts. You know, that can all wait.

Wind stuck his left hand out at arm’s length and buried it an inch under the water. He dashed as fast as his water-weighted legs could carry him, straight at his oncoming friends. If any of them sensed what was coming next, they didn’t show it.

Right as he reached them all, he turned on his heel and rapidly spun, again, and again, and again. His hand carried water up into the air and buffeted the Links. Thanks, Orca. Gotta love the Great Spin Attack, Wind thought. He laughed wildly as he turned and turned. He was getting dizzy, and he knew he had it coming to him when he stopped.

Lo and behold, Wind slowed and stumbled face-first into the surf. He felt a hand plunge into the water next to him and grabbed it. He opened his eyes to find Twilight pulling him to his feet. He spoke softly, “Are you okay?”

Wind smiled, reminded of the battle with the stalfos. Twilight had said the same thing to him after saving him from one of the monsters. “Yeah,” he replied as he shook salty water out of his hair.

“Good.” Twilight said. Wind felt his hand being gripped harder. “Now I don’t feel bad about this.”

Wind didn’t even have time to say “uh oh” before he felt himself being whipped through the water. It occurred to him after several revolutions that maybe Twilight knew a Great Spin Attack himself.

Twilight let go of Wind’s hand, and the youngest Link was sent flying through the air. “AAAAAHHHHH!!” he cried before plunging back into the water. He took a moment to enjoy feeling the ocean envelope him, then popped his head out. “Hey! Twi! Good one!”

There was silence between the heroes for a few heartbeats. As if on cue, they all erupted into hearty laughter. Determined to one-up the first strikes, each Link tried their hand at attacking for fun for once. Sky unleased a flurry of quick, precise jabs at the water’s surface. The salty stuff hit the Links right in their faces. They recoiled, and some cried out.

Those of them blinded by the salt heard someone move up from behind them. “Sky, that was amazing!” they heard Wind shout. He had evidently run back from where he had been thrown. Warrior shook his head to clear it, then glared straight at Sky. Sky gulped. Hitting the most prideful of them with that sort of direct attack may have been a mistake. What happened next, Sky could barely track.

Warrior moved deliberately, as if executing a combo attack he had done many times. One by one, splashes from hooks, jabs, forehands and backhands bombarded Sky. A lull in the attacks allowed him to open his eyes and look at his opponent. Only Warrior wasn’t there. Oh no… he thought. He looked up. Warrior was hurtling downward in as perfect a ball as a Hylian can form. He hit the water.

A majestic tidal wave pulsed out from the epicenter. It washed over all of them with the force of a bomb flower. Warrior slowly and dramatically stood up, put his fists on his waist, and flashed a grin at his fallen comrades; Sky looked particularly dazed. “Come on, boys!” He taunted. “Is that all it takes to fell you?”

As it happens, it wasn’t. Legend, Four, Hyrule, and Wild exchanged a nod and began charging Warrior. Sky recovered and followed after them. Sensing he was suddenly out of his league, Warrior put his arms over his face and shut his eyes hard. No more salt in these eyes, no way, he decided. No attack came. A couple seconds passed. He lowered his defenses, about to taunt his companions again. Unfortunately, they were already only a yard from him, ready to splash.

The look of surprise and desperation on Warrior’s face made Wind burst out laughing. The five allies hit Warrior with everything they had, which ultimately led to them hitting each other, too. Water can be that way sometimes. Time, Wind, and Twilight looked at the bedlam in awe. The latter two jumped back into the fray, ready to dish out their best.

Time found himself gazing at his companions again. A few hours earlier, they were deep in a fight for their lives, outnumbered ten-to-one. Now they were all having fun in a beautiful ocean, letting their stress wash off them in the waves. “Alright,” he said to himself. “My turn.”

While the others were preoccupied fighting and laughing with each other, Time built up as best a sprint as he could. The water came up to just above his navel, which he decided would be just enough for what he had planned.

The one-eyed hero plunged into the surf a few yards from his friends. He swam with the grace of a Zora, twirling as he tightly circled the others. They didn’t notice what he was doing until a wall of water started to rise around them. It rose to several yards tall, and they were now gaping at the sight. That was a mistake.

The wall collapsed, slamming into the Links and filling their mouths and noses. They tumbled through the water for a good few seconds, carried by the torrent. Gasping for air and choking on the salty water, they stumbled back to their feet. Time stood alone and unopposed in the center of them. He had one hand on his hip, his head cocked to the side. “Guess I went a little overboard,” he chuckled.

“What in the Goddesses’ name was that?” Hyrule exclaimed between coughs.

Time took a moment to think on that question. He had never really discussed his masks’ powers with his companions. His mind flashed back to a skeletal guitar jutting out of a sandy beach. Thanks, Mikau. I haven’t forgotten, even now, he thought.

“Well?” Hyrule pressed.

Time beamed, gathering in the sight of his drenched, exhausted, but happy friends. “Let’s just say it’s mapped to muscle memory.”

[timelock97]

Time Never Stops

Chapter Two: Take a Break

Word Count: 3252

Prologue   Ch 1 

(Y/S) - Your State

Warnings: Language, Fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stand off to the side of the movie set and watch Tom perform another stunt in his Spidey Suit, my hands being warmed by the cup of tea that I had bought on the way over to the set this morning.

"Great job, Tom!" I hear someone call as Tom lands another stunt, throwing a few punches at the so called 'bad guy', "Take a break, Tom!" I bring the cup to my lips, wrinkling my nose in disgust, even though I already knew I wouldn't like the taste.

Tom tugs off his mask as he walks over to me, it's the first time in almost a year since we had seen each other in person, and we were itching to be back in each others arms, even if it was only for a few days.

~

Earlier in the week I had called Tom and left three long, goofy voicemails, knowing that he had been on the set of the latest Avengers film by himself, stressing. I talked to him about what had been going on, from normal channel stuff to the weird things that had happened while recording with GameSquad. I had hoped it would bring a smile to his face to have his voicemail box full of wacky messages; however, when he did, he was crying.

"I can't do this," I heard his voice crack when I answered the phone.

"Tom, what's wrong?" I panicked, ready to grab a jacket and rush out the door if need be.

"It's just been hard, everything has been going wrong lately. I'm just so tired," he whispers into the speaker.

My heart breaks for him. It's one of the first times he has really been alone on a film site. Usually, Harrison or one of his brothers will join him, but they are all busy with their own lives. Tom's an adult, he can do things on his own, but when he was having a bad day he needed someone the talk him down from it, and right now he had no one.

"You're okay, tell me what happened," I coax. Tom tells me about the past few weeks and how he hadn't been sleeping well the past few days due to the stress. Finally, after calming him down as best as I could I decided it was time I go see my best friend, "Here, I have to double check a few things, make sure videos get uploaded and such, but what if I came down to see you?"

"You'd do that?" He asks, I can hear the hopefulness in his voice.

"'Course! Anything for you, Tommy-boy. Just hang tight, okay? I'll look up flights while I'm on the phone with you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I hear him sigh in relief, "okay."

~

Tom engulfs me into his arms quickly, his head nestled into the crook of my neck. "God dammit, I missed you." He groans, pulling me tighter.

"I missed you too." I whisper, clawing at the back of his suit with one hand while I balance his drink in another. "I got you tea while I was on my way out of the airport, but it needs sugar."

"You're a lifesaver," he whispers before pulling away from me and taking the drink from my hand. I dig in my bag for a few sugars I had grabbed on the way out of the Starbucks, shaking them until the powder packs to the bottom of the packet before handing them to Tom. He tears the tops off and pours them inside, swirling the drink and taking a swig. "I needed that more than I realized," he lets out a airy chuckle before smiling at me again.

"Figured you would. Do you wanna go back to your trailer and-"

"Tom!" Someone calls, cutting me off, "We need you back on set!"

Tom sighs, handing me back his tea. "You can if you want, I have to get back-"

"If you're here, I'm here." I state.

"(Y/N)-"

"Nope, get back to work, I'll be here waiting for when you're done." I say taking his hand and squeezing it softly. He smiles at me before nodding, walking back to set where a few co-stars pat his back and make motions that gesture behind them, most likely back at me, wondering who I am. I watch as Tom get strapped back into his stunt cables, talk to the director, and perfect a few stunts for the next few hours. I smile softly when he sticks his tongue out at me at one point and repeat the gesture back.

"He's been having a rough few weeks, I'm glad he looks more like his usual self." I jump slightly and turn my head to look at the person speaking. I smile as I find Benedict Cumberbatch standing beside me in his Doctor Strange costume.

"I figured he had been having a rough time, but I didn't know how bad he was getting. I'm just glad he's doing better now." I reply, folding my arms behind my back and fidget on my feet to loosen my stiff muscles.

"You must be (Y/N), am I correct?"

"Yeah, that's me." I stick my hand out to shake his hand, he smiles back and shakes my hand.

"It's nice to finally put a name to a face, Tom talks about you a lot."

"Really?" I ask, turning back to see Tom stick the landing and say his line for the camera.

"Ah, yes. He never shuts up about his favorite girl." Benedict teases, my face heating up at the nickname I had known for years. "Says that you're a YouTuber?"

"Yeah," I giggle, "but the only reason I have my job is because Tom encouraged me to try it." I smile, seeing my best friend bounce on the balls of his feet ready to perform his next stunt. "He's done a lot for me in the past few years."

Benedict smiles and follows my gaze, "Well, I think that you are the reason he works so hard now, wants to make you proud."

"He already makes me proud." I whisper as the two of us watch Tom stretch his arms behind his back.

After a few minutes, Benedict speaks up again, "Do you know when the last time he took a break is?"

"Tom doesn't take breaks," I laugh softly, shaking my head. "This year is a year of always being on the go. There have been several roles this year." I sigh, thinking back to when Tom told me about all the things he would be doing for the year. He had been so excited, but now, all I could see in his stature is exhaustion.

Benedict lets out a sigh, repeating his question, "Do you remember the last time he took a break?"

"No," I mumble, playing with my lower lip as I watch Tom let out a laugh at one of his castmates he hadn't introduced me to. "Probably the last time he came to see me in (Y/S), which was over a year and a half ago." I state.

"It would be beneficial if he did, he's going to burn himself out."

I nod at Benedict's words as I notice the crew calls out, "That's a wrap! Good job, guys!"

"I'll talk to him about it." I turn so I am facing him, "I think Tom's done for the day, which means he will want to probably head back to his hotel right away. Thanks for keeping me company, it was nice talking to you, Benedict."

He lets out a chuckle, "Pleasure talking to you as well," giving me a wave before leaving.

A pair of arms wrap around my waist causing me to squeak and grab their wrists, relaxing at the realization of who is hugging me. "What were you and Benedict talking about, bug?"

I turn in Tom's arms to hug him softly, "Nothing huge, just keeping me company."

"He's a good guy, I need to introduce you to more people, but I would love to get out of this thing and go back to the hotel." He murmurs as he lets go of me.

"Lets go, Spidey." I whisper, taking his hand and tugging him in the direction of his trailer. On the way there, Tom's facade falls and I can finally see how tired he really is. He opens the door and we notice the makeup artist is sitting on her phone in front of the vanity.

"Hey, Tom! How was your set?" She asks with a bright smile, I feel a pang of jealousy in the pit of my stomach at the gorgeous makeup artist in front of me.

"Fine," he mutters as he motions for me to unzip him. I carefully tug down the zipper and help him get out of his suit. "Sue, this is my best mate, (Y/N). (Y/N), that's Sue, she does any of the makeup I have to have for the movie as well as several other people."

"It's nice to meet you," I smile at her as I carefully slip my fingers under the under armor so I can unclip it. Tom let's out an relieved huff as I get the last snaps undone.

"You too, sweetie." She replied, looking at me with a small smile. Tom pokes my cheek and makes an annoyed sound as he tries to get his suit unhooked from the body armor and over his hips.

"(Y/N/N), I uh..." he looks at me sheepishly. "I um, need you to help me. I'm stuck."

"Gotcha," I giggle, carefully unattaching his suit from the body armor and pulling them down to his ankles and helping him pull his feet out of the boots all while avoiding looking at anything else below the belt. He lets out a soft sigh before grabbing his robe and covers up.

"Sorry, still have to wear the thong..." his voice comes out soft, his cheeks red.

"Dude, I get it, no worries," I smile. "Anything you want me to grab while you get your makeup off so we can leave quickly?" I shake out the suit in my hand.

"My clothes are in the bathroom and I need to hang up my suit."

"Hang up the same way as the original?" I ask, taking the under armor from his hand.

"Yeah," he sighs as he sits down and let's Sue get to work taking off the light layer of makeup. I hang up the separate layers of his suit and then slip into the bathroom to grab the few articles of clothing littering the floor. As I walk out, I notice him thanking Sue and her waving softly as she exits. He turns to see me and lets out a shaky breath, opening his arms for me. I walk over and hug him gently running my hands up and down his robe covered back. "I'm really glad you're here, (Y/N/N)."

I pull away from him slightly to look at him. His eyes look distant, and I can see the bags under his eyes. "C'mon, Tommy, get dressed then we can go to the hotel. Then I can call and get us something to eat. Movie night, cuddles, anything you want, within reason." I add at the end with a giggle, making him smile.

He sighs and nods, taking his clothes from my hands and moves to the side so he can change in semi-private. Once he is done, he wraps an arm around my waist and leads me outside to where his car waits. He couldn't be more relieved to be back at his hotel room. He collapsed face first onto the bed after setting my suitcase, which had been sitting in his car's trunk for the past few hours, next to the bed. "The bed is so much more comfortable after a long day of filming." He says into the mattress, I wouldn't have heard him if I hadn't sat down next to him.

"Why don't you take a nice, hot shower and I'll order food, yeah?" I ask, running my hand through his hair. He turns his head and lets out a low hum before nodding. He groans as he rolls over and gets up to hop in the shower. "I'll knock and let you know if I run down to the lobby, okay?" I tell him with a smile. He nods again before slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. I let out a relieved breath after I hear the shower turn on, knowing he isn't going to come back out anytime soon. I look up reviews for country style cooking restaurants before ordering. Tom is still in the shower when the front desk calls saying that our takeout had arrived. "Thanks, I will be down momentarily." I tell the lady at the front desk before hanging up. I grab my shoes and slip them on before knocking in the bathroom door. "Tom?" I call.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going down to the lobby to grab our food, okay?"

"Grab cash from my wallet!" He calls from behind the door.

"I can pay!" I giggle, but I take a step back to see Tom peek the door open so he can see me.

"I'd rather pay, please?" He asks, "What did you order anyways?"

"Surprise," I state, taking his wallet from him and grabbing a $20 before grabbing my own wallet and his hotel key. "I'll be right back, I have my phone." I tell him as I slip out the door. The walk down to the lobby only took me about five minutes, I take the bag from the delivery guy, pay him, and give him a nice tip. As I turn to head back up I hear my name getting called.

"(Y/N), is that you?" I turn to see Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie walking toward me with big smiles on their faces.

"Girl, what are you doing here?" Anthony says with a laugh, pulling me into a quick hug before I turn and hug Sebastian too.

"Tom called and said he needed some company so I packed up my bags and flew out." I say with a laugh.

"Damn, that boy has you wrapped around his finger." Anthony teases with a wink.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "And if I were to ask him the same thing he would be on a plane just as quick." I state back sassily, shifting the bag from one hand to the other.

Sebastian smiles at me, "It's good that you two have such a close bond, how long are you staying?"

"For the rest of the week, I leave on Monday so I can record a video and not worry about anything."

"Well, I guess we will see you on set?" Sebastian said with a small raise of his eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'll be there." I smile, "I have to get back up stairs now, though. I don't want my food to get cold."

"Of course, we will see you." Sebastian states, pulling me into a quick hug before Anthony hugs me again.

"Don't let Tom take advantage of you, sweet thing." He teases, and I roll my eyes before I take the elevator back up to Tom's room. He was laying on his bed, with his eyes shut.

"Tom?" I murmur, causing him to roll his head to the side to look at me. "I have food, sorry it took me so long, I got stopped by Stan and Mackie in the lobby."

"S'okay." He mutters, making grabby hands at me. I crawl onto the bed and pull out our takeout boxes. "What did you even get? It smells amazing."

"Well, we are in the south so I thought we could get some southern cuisine," I opened up boxes causing Tom to laugh, "Brisket, ribs, mashed potatoes, fresh bread, and more!"

"This looks amazing, and I needed something like this, hotel food sucks."

"Well, let's dig in, bubs."

After indulging in the southern cuisine, I cleaned up and crawled into bed with Tom. He reaches across and wraps his arms around me like I was his teddy bear, his head resting on my chest. I run my fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp every so often causing him to hum contently. He tightens his hand on my hip, pulling me closer.

"Hey, Tom?" I whisper, afraid that he was already asleep.

"Yes, love?" he murmurs into my neck.

"Have you thought about taking a break from all this?"

I hear him hum into my neck. "I get breaks, bug-"

"You haven't stopped in almost a year, Tom." I pull away from him slightly, causing him to whine. "Aren't you worried you're gonna burn yourself out?"

Tom takes in a breath before letting it out in a huff, "I am burnt out, but I have so much left to do. I can't just take a break, not yet at least."

I reach across and run my fingers against his cheeks, his eyes falling shut as I trace the lines of his face. "At the end of all this, you need to take a break. You're going to make yourself sick form constantly working. Take a break. Go on vacation. Go on an adventure, Tom, anything."

He keeps his eyes shut as he drags his fingertips against the skin if my waist were my shirt had ridden up. After a minute he pauses his movements and looks me in the eye with a small smile. "Go on vacation with me.".

"What?" I giggle, looking at him as he shifts to hover over me, trapping me between his arms.

"You and I both know we need a break, so why not take it together?"

"When?" I ask going along with his scheme while brushing a curl from off his forehead.

"Let's do it in May, late spring would be decently warm to go out and have an adventure."

"And where would we go?" I tease, brushing my hand down his jaw.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. It'll give me something to look forward to at the end of filming." I give him a look, a teasing purse of my lips as if I were actually contemplating on whether I should go with him or not. This causes him to drop his body on top of mine, knocking the wind out of me in a laugh. "Please, bug? Go on vacation with me, I promise you'll have fun."

"You already know I am going to say yes, ya dork." I giggle underneath him.

He sits up and smiles at me. "Really?!"

"I mean, how can I say no to that face," I giggle, cupping his cheeks.

"You mean," he scrunches up his face, sticking out his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, causing me to laugh loudly, "this face?"

"Totally, Tom." I laugh as he settles back into his original position. I let out a yawn and Tom follows silently. "We should go to sleep."

"Long day tomorrow," Tom mutters, nestling back into my side.

"Mhm." I hum, wrapping my arms around him, squeezing him gently, "Goodnight, Tom. I'll be here when you wake."

"Thank you, for always being here when I need you," he whispers.

"What are friends for," I whisper, but he doesn't hear me as he drifts off, and for once, I'm happy he didn't hear me. "I love you, Tom."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Chapter Two! I’d love feed back my dear readers! Comment and reblog, let me know what you think! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!

@revenantwriting

Chapter Three

[lady-divine-writes]

Need for Speed:New York - Chapter 2 (Rated NC17)

Summary:

It's been years since high school graduation, and Kurt and Blaine are living the lives of their dreams in New York City alongside their best friends, Nick and Jeff. Car racing behind them, they're working towards the future - Kurt and Jeff at NYADA, Blaine and Nick at NYU. But soon after moving from their tiny apartments to a bigger loft, bits and pieces of Ohio start to weed their way in to their lives - along with some New York grown angst, causing rifts that hopping behind the wheel of a Mustang might not be able to solve.

Notes: This was supposed to upload on Saturday, but I need a little positivity today, so I'm indulging. But there will be another chapter up Sat/Sun. Thank you all for your support <3

Read on AO3.

“A new bed, a new dresser, a new desk, a refrigerator … wait. I thought the loft came with a refrigerator?” Blaine said.

“It does, but it’s from the 50s,” Kurt said, racing down the sidewalk to the NYADA main entrance with his phone pressed to his ear. “It’s retro chic, but I worry about its energy efficiency.”

“Do you wanna get rid of it or …?”

“No way! Are you kidding? It’s too trendy to get rid of. We’ll use it as a show piece or something. We just can’t put food in it. Or plug it in.”

“O-kay. You know, it’s a good thing we’re getting such a good deal on this loft seeing as we’re rebuying every piece of furniture we own.”

“Not every piece.”

“Most of them.”

“It’s a good investment. As far as I’m concerned, the furniture we have is full to the brim with bad juju.” Kurt hurried through the double doors as a throng of other students walked out - a group of theater majors so enthralled in a debate over whether Williams, Shaw, or O’Neill were the best playwright of their time, they didn’t see Kurt until they ran into him. “The dresser’s way too small, the couch cushions are flat as pancakes, and the legs of the bed are shot from moving it in and out of the kitchen all summer long.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason our bed’s legs are shot?”

“That’s the one I’m going with while I’m out in public.”

“And I’m guessing an exorcism is out of the question?”

“I’m not too sure the Catholic Church would be eager to help us. Besides, you honestly think that would be cheaper than a trip to IKEA?”

“Hmmm … probably not.”

Kurt sighed, sliding his messenger bag, then his coat, off his shoulders and shaking out the rain. “I’m sorry. Is this too much? I think I kind of jumped into this without consulting you first.”

“No, no! Not at all! I’m not complaining, I swear! I’m just bustin’ your chops. I think it’s adorable. And it’ll probably be cheaper in the long run to buy brand new stuff than to cart our old junk to the new place.”

“Exactly,” Kurt concurred even though that particular argument hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Plus, I fully support any opportunity you find to spread your designing wings. Speaking of, you’re letting me foot the bill for this shopping spree, right?”

“Absolutely not! 50/50. That’s the arrangement.”

“If that’s how you want it, darling. But you know …” Blaine’s voice slid lower and Kurt grinned, knowing that something suggestive was about to come out of his boyfriend’s mouth “… I could pay the bill, and you could work off your half in trade.” He growled, and even though Kurt rolled his eyes, certain parts of his body rose to the occasion.

“You wish,” Kurt said, willing away the erection that sprang up like a Pavlovian dog at Blaine’s growl, which, at any other time, would be followed by his boyfriend on his hands and knees. That was difficult to accomplish from across town. “Come on, let me go! I have to get to my first class. I’m already late enough to not show up!” Damn Jeff and Nick for not coming home last night, Kurt thought as he carefully folded his soaked coat inside out and draped it over his arm. Since their normal five a.m. shenanigans didn’t wake Kurt up, and his alarm never does, he was late getting ready, late for the train, and now, he’s just plain late for the day.

Honestly, that was on him for linking his circadian rhythm to his friends’ sex schedule.

But late for his first class meant his day was shot, so he might as well go home and keep packing, right?

Sounded reasonable to him.

“Alright, alright, alright! Get to class! Do all the things! I’ll see you later this afternoon, and then maybe we could do a little house warming celebrating of our own.” Blaine growled again, and Kurt re-positioned his sopping wet coat over the front of his jeans so as to not to make a scene.

“You order a pizza and I’ll grab a sleeping bag from the apartment on my way over.”

“It’s a date. Bye, darling.”

“Bye.” Kurt hung up the call. He shivered when the doors behind him opened, ushering in a breeze that spiraled through his damp clothes and straight to his bones. He started down the hall, trying to remember whether or not he’d left a change of clothing in his locker in the costume closet. If not, he could always borrow something. What plays were going on right now? Much Ado About Nothing? Waiting for Godot? Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? There had to be a pair of jeans and a semi-fashionable button-down shirt in there that would fit him. Or he could throw caution to the wind and dress up in a brocade vest, a long coat, and pantaloons. With the risky outfits he wore during high school, period dress was something he hadn’t tried. NYADA seemed like the perfect place to explore those vistas in fashion. Maybe he could start a trend. He was interning at Vogue. He needed to do more to stretch boundaries, be bold, start a movement.

Get dry. Because the longer he waited, the tighter his jeans became. They were tight enough as it was. Squishing his junk was not the fashion statement he needed to start today.

A familiar voice stopped him before he could convince himself to go to his second lecture dressed like Benedick … or Beatrice.

Not just stopped but skidded to a halt, nearly rolling his right ankle in the process.

“Hello, gorgeous. I think you forgot your bag.”

“Sebastian?” Kurt spun around. And as implausible as it seemed, Sebastian Smythe was standing behind him, Kurt’s messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He looked dryer than Kurt, so he couldn’t have just gotten there. But why was he there at all? “Oh my God!” Kurt opened his arms and hugged him without giving it a second thought. “We haven’t seen you in forever! I thought you were overseas! What are you doing in New York?”

Sebastian returned the hug single-armed. ““Haven’t you heard? I go here now.”

Kurt stepped out of Sebastian’s embrace so quickly, he almost succeeded in twisting that ankle. “Wait? What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He brought his left arm forward, showing Kurt a stack of books he held clutched in his hand. The top one Kurt recognized right away as Intro to Theater. That happened to be the class he was missing this very moment. The second was A History of Shakespearean Dress Making, the elective Kurt had fourth today, and the third … The Beginner’s Guide to Mime? Kurt didn’t understand. Wasn’t Sebastian attending Oxford or something? Why would he be in New York taking theater, mime, and dress making? It didn’t make sense. “Wha---what, are you … did you really … how in the hell did you …?” Kurt went silent, mouth open as a dozen questions clogged up his throat like rush hour traffic.

He flashed back to his own audition for NYADA – the grueling hour spent in the April Rhodes Auditorium singing his prepared musical theater piece and sight reading another. He had to juggle set design, costume, and choreography all at a professional level to prove that he had what it took to go to this school. Jeff, who auditioned in dance, had to prepare two separate solos – one classical ballet and one hip-hop. At an additional placement interview, Kurt had to prepare another musical theater piece as well as deliver a monologue, and Jeff had to come up with three more dance routines – jazz, interpretive, and contemporary.

Kurt knew that Sebastian had music in his arsenal. He was co-captain of The Warblers at Dalton, but that was show choir. They sang top 40 hits and pulled off some synchronized swaying – nothing to the level of a NYADA audition. Kurt attended the last Warbler concert of their senior year with Blaine. Sebastian had a solo. Kurt remembered thinking he had a decent voice – better than decent, actually.

But that was about it.

Afterwards, at a mixed crew going-away party, Sebastian drank three beers and smoked a joint – something Kurt would never think of doing as a performer. His body was his instrument. He wouldn’t do anything that might put it out of tune.

Going to a school like NYADA wasn’t only about talent. It was about passion and sacrifice. Sebastian never said a word about wanting to join the arts professionally. Was he keeping it a secret – maybe from his dad? Maybe his life was like George the janitor’s and he was waiting for his moment to break free.

Could he have actually made it into NYADA?

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold up!” Sebastian juggled the books in his hand to grab his phone and snap a pic. The flash went off in Kurt’s face, but he didn’t even blink. Sebastian looked at the image on his screen and chortled. “Oh yeah! That's a keeper!”

“I still don’t … I don’t … how did you …?”

“I don’t go here, ya psycho!” Sebastian snorted, setting the books down on a nearby chair. “I came here to see you! The tuition here’s highway robbery, and the audition requirements are insane! You really have to commit yourself to a life of suffering and poverty to want to go here, no offense.”

“None taken, you useless walnut. Then where did you get those?” Kurt pointed at the books.

“I borrowed them from the library. I thought it would give me provenance, help me look the part.”

“A-ha. So you came here looking for me, and when you couldn’t find me, you went to the library and grabbed those books to pretend you go here on the off chance I’d walk through the door and you could pull this elaborate prank on me?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Kurt chuckled. “Yup. I guess it did. You’re one lucky bastard.”

“That, and I ran into Jeff about half an hour ago. He said you’d probably be along soon.”

“He should know. He’s the reason I’m late, the jerk. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing in New York?”

“Yeah …” Sebastian glanced down at his feet, worrying the linoleum with the toe of his sneaker “… well, after a few laps around the world, I got bored and decided it was time to settle down for a while. So I thought I’d come back to the states, go to school and finish my degree.”

“What degree?” Kurt asked, deciding he could afford to miss one Intro to Theater class to catch up with an old friend. Besides, this information was bordering on gossip, and Kurt wasn’t one to kick gossip out of bed.

“Originally, I was going to go into law. Become a states’ attorney like my dad. But it seemed empty to me. So I gave it some thought and asked myself – when was the last time I really enjoyed myself? The last time I was really happy? Aside from driving, the answer to that was music. And since I didn’t see myself becoming the next Dale Earnhardt, Jr. …”

“Mmm … probably not …” Kurt teased.

“… I applied to the music therapy program at NYU.”

Kurt’s nose scrunched. “The same program Blaine’s in?”

“Yup.” Sebastian’s eyes sheepishly found his sneaker again. “I’ll admit, I got the idea from his Facebook posts. It looks like something he really enjoys. Something that adds value to his life. That’s something I need more of – value.” He pinched his lower lip between his teeth. “That doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it? I mean, I know we all have a past and everything but …”

“But we’ve gotten over it,” Kurt said. “I swear. Color me a little bit shocked, but that’s all. How big of an asshole would I have to be if I said ‘I know you finally found your purpose in life, but you need to give it up and leave’?”

“Pretty big,” Sebastian agreed.

“That doesn’t mean it’s open season on my man or anything.”

“Dammit!” Sebastian snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. “I’m heading his way now, and I was hoping for a little bathroom bj action.”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “Nice.”

“I’m kidding! Kidding! Please, don’t hate me … or murder me in my sleep.”

“Hmph! I’ll think about it.”

Sebastian nodded, the last dregs of laughter fading in his throat. “All joking aside, I wanted to connect with you first. I wanted you to hear from me instead of Blaine that I was here.” Sebastian looked Kurt up and down, but not in the way he used to. Not in a way that made Kurt’s skin crawl. This was a different Sebastian Smythe. A new Sebastian Smythe. Kurt hoped this one stuck around for a while. “You look good.” 

“Thanks,” Kurt said, grateful that Sebastian overlooked the drowned rat aesthetic he was still sporting. “So do you.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. You look happier. More ...” The first word that jumped to Kurt’s mind was mature, but he thought that would make him sound conceited “… put together.”

“It helps when you leave drama behind you and get your shit straightened out. Maybe now I can focus on the important things.”

“If you need anything, let us know,” Kurt said, offering Sebastian one last hug.

“I will.” Sebastian wrapped his arms around Kurt’s torso and gave him a squeeze. He slipped Kurt’s bag over his shoulder, adjusting the curled strap for longer than necessary. “I have to go. Time to head over to NYU and bug your boyfriend.”

“He’ll be at lunch in about an hour. You can catch him at Kimmel Marketplace. Oh, and if you see Nick, do me a favor and punch him in the shoulder for me. I have to hunt down Jeff and do the same.”

“Of course, but why?”

“Oh, they know what they’ve done.”

***

“So, you’re moving, huh?” Green eyes narrowed to judgmental slits, waiting for Blaine to answer.

“Uh … yeah,” Blaine replied, fishing through his bag for his notebook. He was supposed to have three, but he could only find two. He smirked, wondering if Kurt had grabbed it by accident, seeing how distracted he was when he ran out to catch his train this morning.

Blaine felt slightly guilty for that one. Kurt blamed Jeff and Nick’s absence for his lateness.

But Blaine had been doing the distracting.

“And whose idea was that?”

“My boyfriend wanted to move and I thought it was a good idea, so … yeah.” Blaine grunted, pulling out each item one by one and stacking it neatly on the cafeteria table. “That’s pretty much how that went down.”

“I see.” Paul brushed a lock of blond hair out of his face and sipped his coffee, perturbed by this recent development. The apartment Blaine lived in (though Paul had never been there) was only a few subway stops away from NYU. Everything Blaine could ever need was here on campus. Everything. So he didn’t need to move. But apparently that wasn’t Blaine’s decision to make. His boyfriend did.  “Where to?”

“A loft out in Bushwick.”

“Bushwick?” Paul’s whole face crumpled in disgust. “Where the hell is Bushwick? It sounds like a slum.”

“It’s in Brooklyn. It’s actually a pretty nice neighborhood.”

“But what about all that travel? It’s still Brooklyn.”

“It’s not that big a deal. Besides, it’s worth it. You should see the place. It’s enormous!”

Paul smiled, the piercings in his dimples mirroring the glint in his eyes. “Is that an invitation?”

“Sure. I guess. I mean, I should step up and host study night now that I have the space. I’m sure Kurt won’t mind. I can probably connive him into making some snacks. He’s an amazing cook.”

“I’ll bet,” Paul said dryly. “You know, the course load only gets harder from here on out, so I hear. You really should consider living closer to campus.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been looking at the classifieds lately, but places near campus cost an arm and a leg. I’d like to keep mine for now. I’m not even in grad school yet,” Blaine said, chuckling at his own joke.

“Maybe you could find someone to bunk with during the week,” Paul suggested, sliding closer while Blaine had his back turned, head deep inside his bag, “and go to your loft on the weekends. I know a couple of guys who do that.” He snapped his fingers as if he just came up with a genius idea. “I have a fold-out couch. You can bunk with me whenever you’re working late, or you’re too tired to ride the subway … or you don’t want to go home.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’d miss my boyfriend too much.” Blaine yanked out a handful of letters from Kurt and piled them on top of his text books. Paul watched, his lip curling once he noticed the flowery handwriting. “I can handle the extra commute. I’m a big boy.”

Paul grinned, looking Blaine over behind the safety of Blaine’s back, stopping when his eyes reached his ass. “I’m sure you are.”

“Anderson! Hey, Anderson!”

Blaine grinned to his eyebrows before he looked up. He’d recognize that voice, booming his name, anywhere. He’d heard rumors. He didn’t know if they’d be true.

Apparently, they were.

Walking through the cafeteria crowd came Sebastian Smythe, sauntering toward him, reminiscent of the first day they met in the commons at Dalton.

God! That simultaneously seemed like yesterday and ten years ago. Where had the time gone?

“Are you kidding me? Where in the hell did you come from?” Blaine leapt out of his seat and into Sebastian’s arms. “Last I heard, you were in London? Madrid?”

“Paris,” Sebastian said, lifting Blaine up a foot off the ground just because he could. “I just came from NYADA. Had a little fun scaring the shit out of your man. He said you might be here. Speaking of …” Sebastian’s smile dropped like a lead balloon when he caught sight of the guy  with the bottle blond mop and garish crayon red tips glaring daggers at him, as if he and Blaine had been enjoying an intimate lunch and Sebastian was intruding “… who the hell is this?”

“This is Paul Johnson,” Blaine said. “He’s my lab partner this semester.”

Sebastian didn’t offer him a hand. Paul didn’t offer one either.

“Yes,” Paul said, “but we’ve known one another since freshman year, so …” He left it open-ended, as if there were a whole history of him and Blaine understood within the invisible brackets bookmarking that unfinished statement. It was pretentious, and as a once pretentious person himself, it rubbed Sebastian the wrong way.

Blaine, however, didn’t seem to notice.

“Paul Johnson?” Sebastian huffed. “That sounds like a stripper name. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Stripping is a noble profession.”

Paul’s jaw locked tight. Blaine clapped Sebastian on the shoulder.

“Play nice,” he said. “So, what’s up? Did you get your books and shit? Do you know what classes you’re taking?”

“Haven’t got my books yet, dad,” Sebastian teased, “but I have my course list.” He handed Blaine his phone with his schedule listed on the screen. “According to this, I’ve got to get myself one of those …” He gestured dismissively at Paul.

“Too bad you weren’t here a few weeks ago. We could have been partners.”

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw Paul grimace.

“Wouldn’t that have been a hoot? Then I could have kept you out of trouble. Now I’ve gotta stalk your ass.” Another glare from Paul, but this time Sebastian matched it and held it, not blinking until Paul backed down … which he did, returning to the task of sulking inside his coffee cup. “Hey, do you happen to know where Nick is?”

“Uh, I think he’s at his internship already. Brown, Smith, Simon, and Kent on 5th Avenue. Why do you ask?”

“I’m supposed to punch him. Per Kurt’s request.” Sebastian pounded his left palm with his right fist and side-eyed Paul. “I could punch you instead. Something tells me Kurt would approve.”

“Ha … ha …” Blaine stepped between Sebastian and Paul and gave his old friend another hug. “It’s good to see you again, man, but unfortunately, we’ve got to get back to work.”

“Yes,” Paul said, his smug smile replacing the perma-glare on his face, “we’ve got to get back to work.”

“And I’ve got to swing by admissions,” Sebastian said, ignoring Paul, “but we’ll get together soon, right?”

“Absolutely! Did Kurt tell you about the new loft?”

“Nah. We only had time for a small make-out sesh. We didn’t get that far.”

Blaine raised an unamused brow. “You’re full of the jokes today, aren’t you?”

“He’s full of something,” Paul grumbled.

“Just excited to be back. And tryin’ to keep you on your toes. I’m harmless ... mostly.” Sebastian bumped the table with his thigh. Paul’s coffee cup tipped, sending him scrambling to catch it before it could fall off the edge.

“Right,” Blaine said, mildly confused. “I’ll shoot you the deets and you can come by for dinner. Otherwise, we’ll see you around campus?”

Sebastian threw a look over his shoulder, and since Paul had been boring holes in his back the whole time, willing him to move the hell on, he was in prime position to catch it. “I’m looking forward to it.”

[geekofmanyforms]

New Beginning

Chapter Seven

*This chapter has been edited by my Beta Casey. Please leave a review I am always up for hearing what you think. If you have finished the chapters I have uploaded on here and want more, then feel free to find me on Fanfiction.net, Ao3, or Wattpad to read more.*

I stepped out of the closet with the perfect dress in tow. It was a simple gown, but for me, that's what made it perfect. The eyelet lace halter top sparkled in the light as I did a twirl in front of the full-length mirror. I smiled as I admired my reflection; thankfully, the dress was ankle length, so I wouldn't have to worry about tripping on the stairs. I tended to be a bit of a klutz.

I decided on a loose side french braid for my hair, hoping to achieve a beautiful look with minimal effort. This seemed to be my typical philosophy because honestly, I didn't really have time to care or worry about what I looked like.

I patted a shimmery shadow overtop my eyelids, and swiped on some lip stain that matched the dark wine color of the dress. After sliding on my ballet flats, I gave myself one last once-over; I was passable, at least.

I rolled my eyes at the loud wolf whistle from behind me but had a difficult time hiding the smile creeping onto my face.

"Thank you, Beka. If you approve, then I obviously did something right," I said.

I gave her a grandiose twirl and nearly tripped over my own feet. Rebekah laughed merrily, clapping her hands to applaud my clumsy show.

"You better get outta here before you fall and break your neck — didn't you do that once?" she asked.

She bit her lip, trying to reel in her laughter at my expense. I sighed, shaking my head.

"Yes Beka, that was actually a death of mine. I fell down the stairs and broke my neck; the curse is a bitch."

I forced a chuckle at this, and Rebekah frowned. She had always been able to tell when I was faking humor to hide my sadness. She ushered me out the bedroom door before I could fall into a 'woe is me' depression.

As we were at the top of the stairs, Elena exited her room, phone in hand. I stopped dead in my tracks — she looked beautiful. Her knee-length orange dress complimented her brown hair marvelously. She'd chosen to wear her hair down, save a single strand on each side, and her sweetheart neckline highlighted her collarbones expertly. I tore my eyes from her gown; the expression she wore was making me nervous.

"What's up, Lena?" I asked.

Instead of answering my question, she bypassed me and bolted into Jeremy's room. I followed her and stood back, watching as she started hitting him.

"Ahh! God, what now?" he asked, covering his head with his hands.

Rebekah stood beside me, watching them in amusement. "You gonna do something?" she whispered, although only I could hear her. I shook my head, continuing to remain silent as my two siblings bickered.

"The pocket watch — Where is it?" Elena accused.

Jeremy looked at her incredulously. "What watch?"

Elena stepped back, her hands on her hips. "The one you stole from mom's box. Look, Mrs. Lockwood just called me freaking out. It was on the list, Jeremy, and she can't find it. She thinks she's the one who lost it."

I looked away from them for a moment, trying to remain impartial. It would do me no good to get involved, but it was hard not to. They could both be mad at me for not playing favorites if they wanted, but eventually, I wouldn't be here to play mediator. They needed to learn how to deal with one another without me.

Still, it was tough to remain neutral when Jeremy was the one who was supposed to inherit the pocket watch. Since it's technically his, he should've been the one to loan it out — and only if he wanted to.

Jeremy stared at Elena contemptuously and shrugged, "Maybe she did. Maybe Tyler took it,"

Elena looked at me as if I was supposed to jump in and yell at Jeremy for being childish, although she was acting just as annoying. I threw my hands out in front of me and shook my head.

"Not involved," I said.

Elena gave me her best 'so angry her eyes were bulging out' expression and turned back to our brother.

"Don't even play that card, Jeremy, you took it. If I go online, am I gonna find it on eBay? Is that how you pay for your pot?" she snarled.

At that, I stepped further into the room. Anger coursed through me — How dare she act so damned, holier than thou.

"Hey, Lena, that's not cool. You have no right to act this way — just 'cause Jer is handling mom and dad's death differently than you are, doesn't mean he would ever sell dad's watch." I said, jabbing my finger in her direction. "The one that was supposed to be his in the first place!"

They both looked at me in silence, shocked that I had said anything. It had been a very long time since I had gotten involved in direct family matters. After I took a few breaths, I nudged my head towards Jeremy.

"Where is it, Jer?" I asked softly.

He stood and walked over to his desk. Pulling out a drawer, he retrieved the watch and looked at Elena.

"Screw you. I would never sell this, okay? At least someone still understands me," he said, looking at me as he held the watch firmly in his hands.

I stepped away from Elena and put my hand on his shoulder. Elena sighed and looked anywhere but at us.

"Then why did you take it?" she asked.

I scoffed quietly. Of course, she didn't understand...

"Because it's supposed to be mine, just like Ellie said. Dad told me it goes to the firstborn son. His father gave it to him, and…now what?" he asked, handing the watch over to Elena.

I shook my head and walked back over to the door.

"...And he was gonna give it to you," Elena said, finally understanding.

Jeremy looked at me, and I nodded in support.

"Yeah," he said.

Elena looked down at the watch, frowning. "Look, Jeremy, it's still yours, okay? Mom promised Mrs. Lockwood. What do you want me to do?"

I bit my tongue trying to say out of it, but to no avail, I couldn't keep myself from calling Elena out on her bullshit. It was the classic Petrova 'only I matter' philosophy — they can't bring themselves to understand unless it matters to them or affects them directly. She was slowly proving to me how very much like her ancestors she was becoming.

"I don't know Elena, you could tell her to shove it. That the watch was never yours, nor moms, to give out. It was Jeremy's, and dads, and it's all he has left of him." I huffed.

Jeremy sent me a grateful smile and my rigid shoulders relaxed. He needed someone to understand him without judgment, and I could give him that — for now.

"Just take it and get out, Elena," he said, turning away from her.

Elena brushed past me with a harsh look in her eyes, directed at me, of course. I had chosen a side (something I really didn't want to do), and to her, it had been the wrong one.

Looking into the teary eyes of my brother, I knew I had chosen correctly. He was the one who needed me the most. He had no one, yes Jenna and Elena tried, but neither of them was willing to simply be there for him all while allowing him to make his own mistakes. They pushed and pushed, judging him for everything he did. I walked over and sat down beside him on the bed.

"This room is...musty. Maybe open a window," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He forced a chipped chuckle and leaned against my shoulder.

"Thanks for trying sis," he said.

I smiled at his tone of voice, it was soft and warm — something I usually didn't get from him. He was always blunt and sarcastic; I could often appreciate that — well, most of the time, at least. I was just as sarcastic as he was, but I did miss my brother. The one who used to sit beside me on the porch swing while I read, drawing pictures of our neighbors or random wildlife. He used to be so fun and care-free...then we lost our parents, and he fell into a dark pit.

One that even I couldn't get him out of.

He was drowning, and I just left him. I told myself it was to save him more heartache once I died, but in the end, it wasn't for him. It was for me.

I was pulling away from everyone to save myself. I wanted to hide away until my birthday. I knew now that I couldn't do that anymore. I had to be there for my family until I no longer could. I would save him. He was my brother — my responsibility. I had lost so many people already, and I was sick of it. Maybe Damon and Stefan were right. Perhaps I could fight this...

"I love you Jer, I'm sorry — I've been so out of it these last couple of years, but I'm here now," I whispered, "I'm back."

He pulled away from me, attempting to wipe the tears from his eyes without me noticing. I looked away so he could retain his 'manly dignity.' I bit my lip to keep from smiling and looked back when I knew he had composed himself.

"I'm glad. I've missed you. Aside from mom and dad, you were always the one I could depend on," he said.

I ruffled his hair, much to his displeasure, and then stood up.

"Well, I'm here — If you ever need anything, let me know. I'll get the watch back for you Jer, I promise."

I smoothed my gown as he smiled brightly. I made to exit, and he followed me out to the hallway.

"Hey, Ellie," he called to me once I reached the top of the stairs, "You look beautiful, by the way,"

I pulled my dress up and curtseyed for him with a laugh.

"Why thank you, good sir," I said, with my best southern belle impersonation.

He bowed to me and took my arm to help me down the stairs. By the time we had reached the last step, we were both laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes. It felt wonderful to laugh with him again.

Jenna was waiting for us at the bottom, a bright grin on her face. She appeared to be stifling back tears.

"You look lovely, Elara," she said.

The doorbell rang, giving me an excellent excuse to escape her teary gaze. As I headed to answer the door, I noticed Elena pull Jeremy to the side, a determined look on her face. I frowned until I saw dad's watch in her hands. I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't even have to guilt her into giving it back.

I opened the door to reveal a handsomely dressed Matt Donovan. He was smiling broadly as I ushered him inside. He gave me a quick once-over.

"Wow, Elara. You look amazing," he said breathily.

I moved my weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. He was my sister's ex after all, and I didn't want to give him any reason to believe this was more than what it was. Matt was a great guy, but he wasn't for me.

"I'm almost ready Matty. I just need to grab my clutch and talk to Jeremy about something," I said, slowly backing away from him.

"Okay, I'll be here," he replied.

I headed back up the stairs and ignored the greyish spirit that was leaning against the wall, eyeing me suspiciously.

"So, who's that?" Rebekah asked as I reached for my clutch on my desk.

"He's just a friend — Elena's ex actually. He asked me if I would accompany him to the party. He is still not over Elena," I explained.

She gave me a tight-lipped frown and stared me down.

"What Beka? I promise there is nothing romantic between us," I turned to face her, narrowing my eyes. "I'm wondering, why would that bother you, though?"

Rebekah turned away with a dramatic huff. I crossed my arms and tapped my fingers against my elbow — something definitely was bothering her.

"What is it, Beks? After all this time, you should know I won't be angry with you. No matter what it is."

I reached out, and my hand hovered over her shoulder. She spun around her eyes, glassy with unshed tears.

"It's completely insane," She said, shaking her head, "It's just...when I saw you with him...it felt like you were betraying my brother. It's crazy, I know! I honestly don't even care if you do. It's just... your relationship with him gives me hope, and deep down I wish you two could work it out." she looked at her feet, then shrugged sheepishly, "Even though I know that is impossible..." she added, her voice cracking.

My heart sank further and further with every word she spoke. It was like hearing all my deepest and darkest thoughts expressed out loud. Should I tell her that I secretly wished for the same thing? That when I'm alone, and there is nothing left to distract me, my thoughts always find him?

"Rebekah, I understand. No man will ever possess my heart the way your brother does — not even Damon. You have nothing to fear, and even though we both know how insane the thought of a relationship between Nik and myself would be, I will never truly give up hope,"

I struggled but somehow managed to hold back my own tears. Rebekah gave me a half-hearted smile and ran her hands over her face with a small shake of her head.

"Okay, okay — enough of that! You have a party to get to, and I should check up on my brothers," she said, with a disgruntled sigh.

I ran my hands down my dress and checked my hair, smiling mirthfully "Okay, give them my love,"

"Yeah, I'll do just that," she laughed.

I gave her a quick nod and smiled at her lovingly. "See ya later Beks,"

I headed down the stairs and found Jeremy in the living room, talking to Matt with a stern look on his face. Oh no, what now?

"Hey, guys. Everything okay?" I asked, tilting my head at them.

Jeremy looked me up and down with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling. He looked so proud, and it made my heart lift and heal after the dark talk with Rebekah.

"Yeah, I was just making sure Matty here knows the rules. Ya know — different sister, different rules," Jeremy said, with a sly grin.

My mouth dropped open. I could feel my cheeks reddening. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. It wasn't often that I was speechless.

"And I was explaining to Jeremy that this wasn't a date. Just two friends." Matt said, speaking for me when he saw how flabbergasted I was. Always the gentlemen.

I closed my mouth and tried to control my blush as my brother watched me intently, his smile growing at my discomfort.

"He's right, Jer. This is strictly a 'friends' thing." I said, tartly.

Jeremy nodded at us both and slapped Matt, none too gently, on the shoulder.

"Okay, don't stay out too late sis," he said, grinning.

Matt took my arm and led me to the door. I turned partially to see Jeremy over my shoulder and gave him the finger, which only earned me a thumbs up and a loud laugh. When Matt tried to turn around, I pushed him forward and allowed him to open the passenger door of his truck for me.

I thanked him and watched Jeremy laughing at me from the living room window. I pulled my phone from my clutch and sent him a series of hateful texts, full of colorful language. I watched him receive them as Matt joined me in the car.

I grinned smugly as he quickly stepped away from the window, eyes wide. I leaned back in my seat as Matt pulled out of the driveway and down the street. I watched the scenery pass by with a genuine smile on my face.

The driveway of Lockwood Mansion was packed full of cars as we pulled up. I leaned forward and looked at all of the people piling out of their vehicles and heading inside. I could see Elena and Stefan heading through the door as a man approached the driver's side window. He told Matt to pull up closer to the house, so the Valet could park his truck for him.

"You ready for this?" I asked.

His face was slowly losing color — he wasn't much for this kind of thing, and I felt sorry for him. But he was under the Petrova spell and couldn't help but want to be around Elena.

"Yeah..." he quietly said.

I allowed the Valet to open my door, and I carefully hopped out. I looked up at the beautiful brick house adorned with white pillars and fought back the memories associated with the last time I had been here. Thankfully, Matt ignored my pink cheeks as he fixed his black suit. Gently taking my arm, he led me inside.

"Let's do this," he whispered to me as we passed through the massive front doors.

The entryway was packed full of guests and waiters alike. A tray of champagne was in front of us, and I reached towards it, pulling away two glasses. I handed one to Matt.

"Drink quickly before we come across Sheriff Forbes, "I joked.

I almost spit out the tart liquid when he started chugging his down. He really didn't want to be here.

I could see Elena and Stefan looking at a display a few feet in front of us and pushed Matt away from them and towards Caroline, who was picking at a plate of food she held. I took his empty glass and sat it on a passing tray.

"Here, talk to Care for a bit. I'm gonna find Elena,"

He tried to object, but I wanted to warn Elena that we were here so she could keep the PDA to a minimum. I didn't want Matt hurting any more than necessary. I pushed through the crowd and grabbed myself another drink. I sipped slowly when I came upon Elena and Stefan.

"Your parents?" Stefan asked her.

Elena shook her head a melancholic expression on her face.

"There's a lot of history here," she said, taking a glass of champagne from a server.

I stepped beside them and noticed our parents wedding set inside the display case. A wave of memories passed through my mind, and I placed my hand on Elena's shoulder. She jumped slightly, the gesture pulling her from her thoughts. Once she realized it was me, she put her head on my shoulder as we both lived within our memories for a moment.

After a few minutes, Elena headed to the next display, and I followed closely behind her with Stefan in tow.

"Hey, Elena. I wanted to let you know I came with Matt," I started, as she read the old Founders registry.

Her head snapped towards me for a moment, pure shock on her face.

"Oh...well..." she started before someone behind me caught her attention.

"So, the oldest Gilbert twin and Matty blue eyes. Ya know, I didn't peg you as the type to go after your sister's ex," the voice, one I recognized instantly, said from behind me.

I growled quietly and turned to face Damon Salvatore.

"Hello, Damon," I plainly said.

I tried to avoid his crystal gaze but couldn't help being drawn in. His eyes were clouded and expressionless. Something was bothering him.

"So, you and Matt?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and repositioned myself to face my sister.

"It's not like that, Lena. He texted me and asked if I would join him as a friend. I wanted to let you know so you and Stefan could keep things G rated, for Matt's sake," I explained.

Her eyebrows raised, and she placed a hand on her hip.

"And since when do you care how Matt feels?" she asked.

I rubbed my forehead and tried to keep myself calm. My sister seriously knew how to push my buttons. I downed the rest of my champagne in one swift gulp.

"I've always liked Matt... Just be kind, okay?"

Damon took the glass from my hand when I tried to snag another. I grumbled at him and pushed past the small group to find Matt and Caroline. Once I was out of Damon's line of sight, I grabbed another glass and stood next to Caroline. She was talking to Matt about her mom. I listened in to their conversation until Caroline excused herself and made her way to Damon's side.

I followed her and was just in time to hear her ask Stefan to dance. She led him to the dance floor, and Damon used the opportunity to make his move. I had to admit, I was starting to become ready for Katherine's return.

Maybe after he realized Katherine was safe, and that she was never in the tomb, he would finally leave Elena alone. Hopefully, the big reveal will get the Petrova's out of his system.

I stepped to the side, just out of sight, to listen to their conversation.

"I want to apologize to you for being such a world-class jerk the other night when I tried to kiss you. There's no excuse. My therapist says I'm...acting out, trying to punish Stefan," he said.

When had Damon tried to kiss her? I felt anger stir in my stomach and tried to ignore it. I wasn't jealous, was I?

I rolled my eyes and continued to drink my champagne, it would be her own fault if she fell for his bullshit. I hoped she was smart enough to see through it.

"For what?" Elena asked him.

He inched closer to her without drawing attention to it.

"It's all in the past. I don't even want to bring it up. Let's just say that the men in the Salvatore family have been cursed with sibling rivalry. And it all started with the original Salvatore brothers," he told her a very fake, sad tone to his voice.

I turned my head to find Stefan and Caroline, who were both still dancing together. He was whispering something in her ear. I decided to leave Damon to his petty lies and save Stefan from an overly bubbly Caroline.

I set my glass down on the small silver table beside me and walked onto the dance floor. I swayed my way to them and stopped beside Caroline.

"Hey Chicka, mind if I cut in?" I said.

She looked past me to see Damon still preoccupied with Elena.

"Sure, Ellie," she said.

I switched places with her, and Stefan placed his hand on my hip. He allowed me to put one of my hands on his shoulder, and my other arm around his neck. A new song began to play, and I smiled at the choice. It was one of my favorites — Shut Up and Dance, by WALK THE MOON. We began to move as the first verse started. I looked past Stefan and watched Elena and Damon, who were still talking by the display cases.

"Thanks for rescuing me. I think Damon asked Caroline to pull me away so he could talk to Elena," Stefan said.

I gave him a coy smile. "I think your right. He was talking to Elena about the original Salvatore Brothers," I said.

Stefan's face fell for a moment before he controlled his reaction. "So that's his plan," he said flatly.

We continued to move across the dance floor, both of us dancing as if it were as natural as breathing. To us, it actually was — we'd had centuries of practice.

"You shouldn't have to worry about Caroline much. I made sure she had a nice supply of vervain," I said, as I twirled about. "Although, before I dosed her, he compelled her to have no fear, so that's something we'll have to deal with,"

We danced past Matt, and I sent him an apologetic wave. I didn't want him to feel like I abandoned him for the same person Elena had.

"Well, at least there's that. Isn't there something you can do for her? Using magic, I mean?" he asked.

I frowned and shook my head. "Yeah, but it isn't an option. It's excruciating and could potentially kill her. I'm thinking I wean her off the vervain long enough for him to fix it. Under supervision, of course," I added, quickly.

We started to slow our precession across the floor long enough for Stefan to dip me. I laughed merrily and saw Damon eye us from the other side of the room. Elena sent me a dirty look as he lifted me back against him once more.

"Show off," I laughed.

He shrugged and twirled me around. I giggled and added a few flares of my own to the dance. I lifted my leg and wrapped it around his midsection, allowing him to dip me once again. While I was lowered, Damon approached us. Stefan pulled me back up, and I dropped my leg. I spun behind him and pulled him with me further onto the floor.

Damon was stuck on the other side of the room, blocked by the many people who had joined us. I noticed Stefan was beginning to lose his momentum — as he searched around for Elena. The sympathy I felt for him made my stomach churn. He was always on duty, I couldn't remember the last time I saw him genuinely having fun. Yeah, he was enjoying his time with Elena, but he was always on guard and stiff with her. I think the only person I had ever seen him let go with was our old friend Lexi. Someone he wouldn't know I had seen him with, and a friend he didn't exactly know we shared. It was just something that had never come up between us, as Lexi rarely came around. Which was why Stefan so rarely had fun.

I pulled his face in front of mine and gave him my brightest smile.

"Let's have some fun, Stefan," I said, laughing, "Dance with me,"

His eyes lit up as I swayed in front of him, waving my hands out in a 'come hither' fashion. He laughed loudly and started moving with me. I threw my arms up and just gave myself away to the music. It was the most fun I'd had in ages.

He grabbed my hands and held them in the air with his, twirling me around and around. My red hair fanned around us as the lights from above shined brightly with the music. I was laughing hysterically as Stefan gyrated towards me, his eyes shining in the twinkling lights. His face was full of joy and laughter. It was a refreshing difference, and I was glad that for just this small moment, I helped him forget who and what he was.

I saw Damon and Elena make their way through the crowd and knew our fun was over. I leaned against Stefan and whispered in his ear.

"The fun's over. I think we're in trouble. Thank you for dancing with me," I said, pulling away.

His face fell, and he leaned into me.

"No, thank you," he said simply.

As he pulled away, the song ended, and the fun suckers had joined us.

"Looks like you guys were having a blast," Damon said, his eyes flashing irritably.

I ignored his hateful tone and forced a smile for Elena.

"You have to get Stefan to dance more. He's a great dancer," I laughed.

I pulled her beside me as a new song played. She shrugged me off and frowned.

"I think we should go, El. It's getting late,"

I huffed and looked around me for Matt. Unfortunately, I couldn't see him.

"Okay, party pooper. I'm gonna look for Matt,"

As I pushed my way through the crowd, I could feel someone following me. I ignored them; instead, I continued looking around for Matt. Of course, he must have seen me with Stefan and decided to leave. I stood by the front door and debated my options. I really didn't want to go with Elena and Stefan — being the third wheel is never fun.

"Matty leave ya behind?" Damon asked from behind me.

I ground my teeth together and turned towards him.

"Yeah, looks like it. You wouldn't mind giving me a lift, would ya?" I asked exasperatedly.

I hated myself for asking. After I had found out Damon had made a move on my sister, he was the last person I wanted to be alone with.

"Sure, I can't just leave you to fend for yourself, now can I?" he said, smirking

I bit my tongue and started outside, sending Elena a text that I was on my way home. I stood beside his car until he unlocked it and then slipped inside. The driver's door opened, and he was seated before I could blink.

Stupid Vampire speed.

I turned on the air and sat back as he pulled out of the Lockwood's driveway. The tension in the air was thick, and I hated the awkwardness of it.

"So, since when are you and my brother buddy-buddy. Was it not his fault you died in our time?"

His tone was laced with venom. I closed my eyes and let out the breath I had been holding in.

"That was not his fault, and you know it. Your brother and I are on friendly speaking terms, and we were just dancing. I'm surprised you even noticed, with how enamored you are by my sister," I spat back.

His brows furrowed and his grip on the steering wheel tightened, causing his knuckles to go white.

"That wasn't what it looked like," he grumbled through clenched teeth.

I couldn't help the sarcastic laugh that escaped.

"So, the kiss you tried to share with her, was accidental than?"

I couldn't believe he was trying to tell me he had no feelings for Elena. He looked at me in surprise. Obviously, he hadn't known I had heard them.

"That was a mistake. One that won't happen again," Damon said softly.

I avoided his gaze and looked out my window.

"What you do with Lena isn't my business. You are free to try for her affection if you want. But I'm telling you right now, she is more like Katherine than either of you realize. This will not end well," I said, finally meeting his gaze.

His blue eyes were emotionless, and I hated the fact that he looked as lifeless as Stefan had. I could still remember how full of life they had once been. Katherine really had destroyed not only their relationship but their souls as well.

The car pulled up beside my house, and he shut off the engine.

"What happened to us, Elandra?" he whispered.

I kept my eyes on the house beside us.

"I don't know. We are both different people now. You fell in love with Katherine, and her love not only changed you but everything and everyone around you. We can't go back to how we used to be, Damon,"

"I really am sorry, El. I never wanted any of this to happen. I need you to know that I still love you, in spite of it all," he said.

I looked at his face and found nothing but the truth his words held, and I knew that a part of me still loved him.

"I know. I still love you too, but that doesn't change anything. You still love Katherine, and you have feelings for Elena. I can't and won't be a backup." I said.

His face filled with regret. "I wouldn't ask you to be," he said.

I opened my door and looked back at him one last time.

"Can we be friends? As cliche as that sounds." I asked, with a small smile.

He gave me his signature smirk.

"Yeah, you won't get rid of me that easily," he said.

I shook my head at him and got out of the car. I closed the door and leaned into the window.

"Of course not. Life without you? How boring," I said, with my own smirk. "Goodnight, Damon."

He smiled back at me, nodding.

"Goodnight, Elandra."

[uas-fics]

Title: A Good Person

Summary: Kenny says Leo is a 'good person,’ but Stan doesn't know how much he can believe that. After all, Leo is a super villain.

Rating: T

Ships: Stenny, Bunny, Stutters, Sunny (I think that's what that polyship ended up being named)

Content Warnings: Mentioned/discussed child abuse in later chapters

Other: You know that thing where you read two posts before you pass out and then wake up at 3 am with a combined idea of them? Yeeeeeeeaah. That's what happened here.

Super hero au

Check the first reblog for the link to the Archive of Our Own upload

~~~~

Kenny slipped silently through Stan’s front door.

He rubbed his lower back, the phantom memory of the stabbing knife, still played through his healed skin. The moment the mugger's blade struck him instead of her target, she looked up to see Mysterion’s dark, piercing eyes glaring over his shoulder at her. The color drained from her face in horrified realization.

She dropped the knife a moment later and tried to flee, but Mysterion's dark whip coiled around her ankle and tripped her face first into the cold, hard sidewalk.

Of course, that mugger had served no challenged to Kenny’s alter ego, Mysterion, the great and immortal hero. They never do.

Kenny stretched to the side, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He heard his spine pop — though that was more a result of sleeping on an old mattress than his hero activities.

At least tonight he got a reprieve from that inconvenience.

Stan looked up from his meal, a spoon of mash potatoes inches from his lips.

"You're late," He commented before shoving the potatoes in his mouth. Around them, he continued, "Everything alright?"

Kenny strolled over to the silverware drawer as he spoke.

"Everything is fine." He said. That was not quite a lie. Everything was alright—now at least.

He picked up a spoon before heading over to the table. Sitting on the table top, he scooped Stan's bowl right from in front of him and began to chow down on the instant spuds.

"Is this all you're having for dinner?" He asked.

"Not dinner.” Stan pointed to the oven clock. "Midnight snack."

Kenny choked.

He beat his chest a few times before swallowing hard. He shoved the bowl across the table as his cheeks began to burn. It hadn't taken that long to bring the mugger in, had it?

"Shit, Stan, I'm sorry. I got caught up at work and—"

"It's cool, dude," Stan took his bowl back. "I told you, you don't have to lie to me about spending time with your other boyfriend. If you want to spend time with him after work, do it. Just give me more of a heads up next time."

‘So I don't worry.’

Those words hung unspoken in the air between them. Guilt wrapped around Kenny's stomach and squeezed. For all of Stan's bravado about being the epitome of uncaring nihilism, Kenny knew full well he was one of the most caring souls around. A caring that came from a place of true empathy instead of a feeling of duty or justice.

A caring like that was rare.

Kenny reached over and set a hand on Stan's. He smiled softly.

"Sorry. I'll do better. Promise." Kenny decided it was better not to correct Stan that he really was late because of work. This time, at least, Leo didn't have anything to do with his tardiness.

He hopped off the table then offered out his hand. "Bed?"

Stan eyed the mostly finished bowl then shrugged. He would probably deal with it later. Stan took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled from his seat.

On the way to the bedroom, and the softest mattress Kenny had ever slept on, Stan asked, "So, speaking of your other boyfriend, will I ever get to meet him?"

Kenny was glad he took the lead so Stan couldn't see him wince. A heartbeat later, he coughed a laugh.

"I don't know. Maybe? Leo's very selective with the people he let's know about our relationship. You know how people are, Stan."

Again, not a full lie...

He continued, looking over his shoulder with a cheeky smile, "Are you sure you're not asking because you plan to steal him for yourself?"

Stan chuckled then used their combined hands to gently shove him forward. His side hit against the doorframe.

He bounced off the frame then shouldered open the loosely shut door. Taking three steps, he fell face first into the mattress, nearly pulling Stan down with him.

"God, I love your mattress." He mumbled through the layering of thick blankets.

"Sometimes I think that's the only reason you're with me." Stan laughed. He took hold of the top blanket and yanked it out from under Kenny. Kenny rolled to the middle before sprawling out his arms and legs.

"Yup, totally, the first chance, I'm going to elope with your mattress," He teased before climbing off the bed to strip out of his jeans and shirt. He folded them up before dumping them in the hamper near Stan’s guitar. He plucked a string a few times, earning a chuckle from Stan.

“My offer to teach you to play still stands,” Stan reminded as Kenny headed back towards the bed.

“Nah. I already have to beat admirers off me with a stick, knowing how to play the guitar would only bring more of them.” He winked, lifting the covers, before slipping in. Only from his nose up peeked out.

Stan rolled his eyes, dropped the blanket at the end of the bed, then hit the lights.

Kenny heard Stan's feet as he padded through the dark. The blankets lifted as Stan crawled in, pressing his back close against Kenny's side.

"Night, Stan," Kenny muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of Stan's head.

"Hmm, night," Stan muttered back.

The ambient noises of the suburb filled the night: The distant rumbling of freight trains and mumble of the wind as it played along snow-covered rooftops.

Just as Kenny began to doze off, Stan whispered, "You've never shown me a picture of him before. Leo, that is. You just tell me about him."

Kenny pulled his arm from behind the pillow under Stan's head then turned. He wrapped an arm around his waist, nuzzling into his hair. It was greasy, but Kenny had grown used to that.

He laughed quietly.

"That's because all the pictures I have of Leo are from the waist down."

Stan chuckled. "Wow, Kenny." The conversation seemed to end after that as Stan's breathing becoming deeper until he drifted off.

Kenny sighed.

How many half lies had that been in the span of ten minutes? Three or four?

Three, Kenny finally decided. Three half lies, not counting his lie of omission about his reason for being late.

One that everything was fine when Kenny had been stabbed less than an hour ago.

Two, that Leo was particular about whom he let in on their relationship. He didn't care if people know Leo and Kenny were together.

Three, that he didn't have any pictures of Leo's face.

Technically, Kenny didn't have any pictures of Leo's face, but he had plenty of Professor Chaos'.

~~~~~~

Toolshed looked over the city. Both bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. The night would be upon them soon, and with night came the low lives that crawled from the dark corners.

Toolshed always felt a pang of pity for the criminals he apprehended. Something in their lives pushed them to break the law. Be it their parents, their spouses, or society itself, something had failed to give them the strength to carry on the law-abiding path.

Or that's what Toolshed liked to think.

Whenever the discussion of if people are born evil or become evil came up, ToolShed would always say that people were inherently good, at least at the start.

He hadn’t always thought like that. When he was younger, he was sure no one born was good; however, the years of hero work and being around truly good people had changed much of his views.

Using his tape measure grappling hook, Toolshed swung off the top of the building. He backflipped off the side of an old apartment complex and landed on the sidewalk.

A round of clapping came to his ears.

He turned to find his teammate, Mysterion,  melting out of the darkness of an alleyway.

"Seven out of ten, since your landing was a little wobbly,” He said in that overly gruff voice that ToolShed just knew was fake.

He smiled proudly.  "I'll take it," ToolShed said.

Mysterion chuckled, strolling over. "Got patrol tonight?"

"Yuuuup." ToolShed popped the ‘p’ at the end. "Tonight and tomorrow. What about you?"

Mysterion shrugged. "I'm done for the day. Finally get to head home." He paused then chuckled, "Or, to my boyfriend's home, anyway."

ToolShed nodded at that but didn't pry. Of all the heroes, Mysterion kept his civilian life the closest to his chest. He never talked about his home life or work.

Except for brief mentions of it to ToolShed.

ToolShed viewed it as an honor that Mysterion trusted him enough to divulge any information about his personal life to him, even something as small as that he had planned to spend the night with his boyfriend.

"I wish I could say the same," ToolShed admitted. "Mine has to stay home without me tonight."

"What an unlucky bastard," Mysterion shook his head. “If it were me, I'd go kick Tupperware's ass for scheduling you for the night shift.”

ToolShed stiffened for a second at the comment. He hoped Mysterion hadn't noticed.

Even before he obtained his control over all power tools, Toolshed had admired the hooded hero: Mysterion, the brave vigilante who, at the risk of his own life, tried to better the world by sweeping up crime off the city streets.

There was something just so amazing that a person his own age could change the city so much that stirred a fire in him to do better, try harder, and be a good person. Stories of Mysterion's valor and bravery were part of what kept him going through the worst of his depression as a teenager.

Then, when Coon and Friends recruited them both and he finally got to meet his personal hero, he found that Mysterion was an even braver person than the stories made him out to be. He was kind and caring, strong and stable, humble and yet rightfully proud of what he had done. A bit like Kenny, if he thought about it. Though, Mysterion was much more reserved and quiet than Kenny could ever be.

Well, Wendy used to tease him that he had a type.

He would never admit it to any of the other heroes, he had a little bit of a crush on Mysterion. If he knew Mysterion was single and willing, he would asked him on a date in a snap.

He wouldn't dare try anything, though. The way Mysterion spoke about his boyfriend, he clearly cherished him deeply. It wasn’t ToolShed's place to interfere.

Besides, he didn't even know if Mysterion was into the idea of an open relationship and the awkwardness of asking was too great of a deterrent to find out.

Maybe someday he'd find a way to bring up the topic in casual conversation.

ToolShed ran a hand through his hair, careful of his goggles. "Yeah, well, knowing him, he'll make up for it soon enough."

Mysterion smirked. "Sounds like my kind of man, 'Shed. You got yourself a good one there."

"I'd like to think so." ToolShed grinned. Before he could say anything else, his crime alert buzzed on his hip. He whipped it out.

"Robbery. I gotta go." He pointed over his shoulder.

"Need help?" Mysterion offered.

"No, it's fine." He shot his grappling tape out. "Go home, dude. Enjoy your evening."

"If you’re sure." He turned on his heels and began to walk back into the darkness.

With a nod he knew hadn't been seen, ToolShed took off into the night.

~~~~~~

The robbery wasn't nearly as bad as the crime alert had said. It turned out to be only one man holding up a liquor store with an empty pistol.

It took Toolshed all of two and a half minutes to sneak in, knock the pistol from his hand with a screwdriver, before tying him up with his indestructible chalk line.

As he waited for the police to arrive, he asked the man why he'd done it, only to receive a babbled, nearly incoherent, reply. When the police arrived moments later, ToolShed set a hand on his shoulder and wished him good luck.

He didn't know if the man understood him or not.

After all that, Toolshed crouched on the top of a Burger King, quietly shoving fries from a greasy cardboard holder into his mouth.

He didn't care much for Burger King's fries— Sonic's tater tots were better— but the workers here were used to heroes landing by the drive-through window thanks to how often Mosquito and the Coon get their mid-shift meals there.

He even got a free cookie.

As he polished off his fries, something swift and orange caught his eye on the street. He turned, dropping the fry container into the paper bag with his other trash, to check it out.

Kenny stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light, hopping from one foot to the other. He had something rectangular in his hands, but ToolShed couldn’t tell what it was.

He raised an eyebrow. Kenny told him he would be getting off early tonight and going to bed to catch up on the sleep he'd been missing working late. They were supposed to go out to eat a late breakfast tomorrow.

What was he doing out here?

Kenny dashed across the crosswalk. He shoved his hand in his pockets while he carefully held the rectangular object with the other. He was trying to look casual, but ToolShed knew it was an act.

Something wasn't right.

After making a note to himself to come back and properly toss his trash away, he quietly began to hop from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit. He contemplated a few times dropping down and questioning him as ToolShed, but decided against it each time.

Kenny was smart and knew him too well. He would be able to see through his hero persona with ease, and that was something he couldn't have happened. Kenny loved him for who he was as Stan, not as ToolShed. He didn't want Kenny idolizing him for his hero work or, worse, worrying about him all the time.

Kenny paused near an abandoned factory. He crept quietly to the gate and began to fiddle with the padlock that held the chain closed.

Was he breaking in? Why? What did a factory that hadn't been used in nearly a decade hold for Kenny?

The chain dropped with a heavy clatter to the ground before he pushed the gate open. A high pitch creak echoed around the desolate space. He didn't shut the gate behind him, instead hurrying up the stairs to one of the open cargo doors. He slipped inside and disappeared.

Toolshed waited a few minutes, just in case he came back out, before hopping off the rooftop and scampering over to the gate.

He stooped down to inspect the padlock, expecting to find it broken, but it was still complete. Either Kenny had the key or he picked the lock.

Keeping to the dark edges near the fence, he snuck closer to the door. As he neared, voices carried from within.

"..can't stay for long," Kenny was saying. "I told Stan I'd be home when he gets back. His boss gave him weird hours today and tomorrow."

"Ah, that's too bad," Another, far too familiar, voice replied.

ToolShed stiffened, eyes wide. Steeling himself, he crouched down and peeked into the factory. He could barely see it, but farther in, sitting on the edge of a platform, were two figures, illuminated by a single light on the wall.

The smaller figure was Kenny. He knew that messy outline of hair and laid back posture anywhere, but the other, the taller more resigned one, almost resembled the evil super villain Professor Chaos.

ToolShed shook his head. No, no, that couldn't be right. What would Kenny be doing with a super villain?

Spying a barely illuminated catwalk above them, Toolshed took a step back and looked up the side of the factory. There was a small window about as high up as the catwalk. Maybe they connected.

With his grappling tape, Toolshed hurried up the wall and to the window. By some stroke of luck, the window was unlocked. He carefully pushed it open then climbed through.

The old catwalk groaned under his weight. He froze.

"Did you hear that?" Kenny asked.

Just as Chaos began to push himself up, something brushed against ToolShed's ankle.

ToolShed swallowed hard as whatever it was pulled at his jeans. Something that felt like tiny hands pressed against his leg. The feeling reminded him of a small child trying to make their parent listen.

In the faint moonlight from the window, he caught sight of whatever was trying so desperately to get his attention.

Three small raccoons.

ToolShed had helped rehabilitate raccoons before, and these couldn't be more than a few months old. Their mother was probably around somewhere.

“I think it came from up there.” Chaos walked towards a ladder that would take him up to the catwalk.

ToolShed swore to himself then kicked his leg out gently, but the raccoons kept coming back trying to crawl up his pants. They reached up with their grabby, little paws, though they didn’t seem malicious.

These were wild animals. They shouldn't even want to come near him — unless a human had been feeding them.

Now ToolShed understood what they wanted.

He hated to do this, but he had no choice. This was the only way to get them to leave.

“Here, get lost,” He hissed. Reaching into his pocket, ToolShed took out his free cookie and tossed it. One of the raccoons snatched it from the air and darted down the catwalk with the others on its tail.

They bound to a tangle of pipes on the wall then hurried down.

Chaos jumped back, nearly falling over, as the raccoons raced by his feet.

"Oooooh, that's what it was!” Chaos chuckled. “Just the babies.”

A sigh escaped his lips before ToolShed scooted across the catwalk until he was right over the top of them. He crouched and looked down.

While Chaos sat back down, Kenny pulled the object he brought with him into his lap.

“They're not going to steal the food I brought again, are they?” Kenny asked, taking a sheet of shiny foil off the object. Now that ToolShed was closer, he could tell it was a baking pan.

“I wish you hadn't let Disarray feed them.” Kenny offered the pan and Chaos took it. The smell of chocolate floated up. Brownies.

“I didn't know he was!” Chaos defended.

“Hopefully, they out grow the habit before they get in trouble with animal control,” Kenny said.

Professor Chaos kicked his legs out like a child, with the pan of brownies in his lap. He dug one of the brownies out and began to eat it.

"Mmm! You make some good brownies!" Chaos complimented.

"Thank you. It's a recipe from my dear aunt, Betty Crocker." Kenny joked, taking a brownie for himself. "Though the pan is actually Stan's, so we can't eat them all. It wouldn't be fair if he didn't get any."

Chaos nodded, swallowing his brownie. "Speaking of, how is he doin'?"

Toolshed tensed.

"Good, he's doing good. Though, I don't know how much I'll be able to see him, with summer coming back up." Kenny wiped his hands on his jeans. "He volunteers at the animal shelter and stays for hours helping out. He's very passionate about rehabilitating dogs, especially, I've saw him help with kittens and even a calf last year"

"Well, then, why don't you volunteer, too?" Chaos asked. "You can rehabilitate dogs together."

Kenny hummed. "I don't know. Sometimes dogs can tell what I am and don't like to come near me. I think I'd just be in the way."

ToolShed had seen dogs act strangely around Kenny before. Their tails would go between their legs, and they would back into the corners of their pens, whimpering and whining like some beast at walked into the shelter.

When he said 'What I am'? What did that mean? Yeah, it was weird that some dogs were scared of him, but Kenny was just a normal person.

"Ah, so you still ain't told him?"

"Nope."

Told me what? ToolShed thought, narrowing his eyes.

Kenny paused then turned his head to the side. He tapped his chin.

"You got something riiiiight..." He leaned forward, kissing Chaos right on the mouth. Chaos didn't push him away, instead turning his body towards him, one leg pulled up on to the platform.

ToolShed barely stifled a gasp. A pang of betrayal hit his stomach. So, Kenny was cheating on him and Leo with an evil supervillain bent on the city's destruction.

He gritted his teeth until his jaw began to ache.

Kenny pulled away. "Got it."

Chaos chuckled. "Thanks." He leaned back on his arms. "So, if not about you, you've told him about me, right? You think I'll ever be able to meet him?"

Kenny took a breath and let it out noisily through his nose. "He knows about you, and maybe one day you can meet him, but it has to be as Leo, not as Chaos. I don’t think he can ever know about Chaos. He wouldn't be able to understand."

ToolShed's eyes snapped wide.

No, no, no way...This couldn't be possible. The 'Leo' Kenny had described as a friendly, kind-hearted person was Professor Chaos? That couldn't be right. He had to have misheard!

Chaos took another brownie. "He sounds like a really swell fella, and really handsome if those pictures you showed me ain't lying."

"Oh, they ain't—aren't." Kenny laughed. "He really is good looking. Maybe, if you two hit it off and like each other, we can all just be one big triad. I sure wouldn’t have anything against it." He pulled both his legs up until he was on his knees, before resting his forearms over Chaos' shoulders and going in for another kiss, deeper than the one before.

ToolShed suddenly became very aware of his own lips. He winced as he realized he'd shared second-hand kisses with Freedom Pals’ greatest enemy.

A rage boiled inside him, and it took everything he had not to jump off the catwalk and demand answers from them both.

He had seen enough

By some blessing, however, ToolShed was able to sneak back to the window undetected.

He shot out his grappling tape to hook on the lip of a window of a building. He balanced himself on the edge of the building then slammed shut the window and left.

He hoped they both heard it.

~~~~~

The bedroom light shone through the window when Kenny walked up towards Stan's apartment. He frowned. He didn't remember leaving it on, but he must have unless Stan came home early.

If Stan was home, hopefully, he was in his room so Kenny could leave the half-pan of brownies in the oven. He didn't have a good excuse to why he ran outside with them.

The door was unlocked when he got to the top of the stairs.

No doubt, Stan was home.

He shouldered open the door and peeked in.

Every light was off, save for the bedroom. Sneaking into the kitchen, he hid the brownies in the oven then headed towards the bedroom.

"Stan! You here?" He poked his head in through the bedroom door.

Stan sat on the bed, a pillow hugged to his chest between his knees. His face was buried into the blue-green pillowcase. The moment Kenny stepped in, Stan turned his head up just enough to see his eyes, and Kenny froze mid-step.

A redness ringed his eyes; eyes that were angrier than Kenny had ever seen them. Each shot daggers right at his face.

He slowly lowered his foot.

"Stan?" He said calmly and carefully, like he was talking to a cornered animal. "What's wrong?"

Stan's glare never wavered as he shoved the pillow to the side. "Fuck off."

Kenny flinched back. "W-what? What did I do? Are you mad I wasn’t home? I just went out to grab some smokes from the gas station."

"Ha! Fucking Liar! I know what you do when you're late now, you bastard!" Stan spat. For a second, Kenny was sure he planned to dive off the bed and strangle him.

Then the words clicked.

The color drained from Kenny's face. Stan couldn't know. There was no way he could know that Kenny was Mysterion. He just couldn't! Kenny was extra careful at all times to keep those two lives as far from each other as possible!

A cold sweat started across his body. Stan of all people wouldn't be mad that he was Mysterion, right? He spoke so highly of Kenny's alter ego, claiming him to be his favorite superhero. Was he mad that Kenny had been lying about it? He had to know the dangers that came with superhero life and that Kenny didn't want him dragged into that, didn't he?

No, Kenny had to calm down. He didn't even know if Stan knew yet. Play it cool. Play it cool.

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" Kenny shook his head.

Stan slammed his hands down against his legs. It must have stung, but he showed no sign of feeling the pain.  "Bullshit! Yes, you do! I saw you tonight! I followed you to that factory!"  He swung his legs off the bed and jumped to his feet.

Kenny's heart stopped dead in his chest.

Half the walk to the factory he'd felt like someone was following him, but shrugged it off as paranoia, especially after the incident with the raccoon.

He had been so, so wrong.

Stan knowing about Leo's secret  was even worse than Stan figuring out he was Mysterion, by a mile.

"Stan, please, let me explain." Kenny tried to keep the desperate pleading from his voice.

"Explain!? How can you explain that?! The 'Leo' you talk about as one of the 'kindest,' and 'sweetest' people you've ever met is fucking Professor Chaos!" Stan yelled, marching up into his personal space. "You're dating a supervillain and didn't even tell me!"

"It's complicated, Stan! I can't explain everything, but I promise you aren't in any danger," He promised.

Stan eyed him critically then worry mingled with the rage on his face.

"Are you only dating him because he's making you? Is he blackmailing you?"

Kenny choked on a laugh Then told another half lie, "What? No!" He ran his hands through his hair. "Look, dude, I'm just trying to help him. He needs someone to support him."

"He's a super villain! He nearly blew up the museum last month!"

"You think I don't know that?!" Kenny shouted. "I know he's done terrible things! I watch the news. I talk to people. I know!" His shoulders slumped. "I know, man, but...he's getting better. His evil deeds aren't as evil as they use to be, because I'm helping him."

"How?" Stan took a step back, and Kenny took a breath he didn't realize he needed.

"He needs someone there to support him. Someone to tell him it's alright and he doesn't need to act out to fix what upsets him," Kenny explained as best he could. Leo trusted him not to spill his secrets, and that was a hard-earned trust Kenny planned on keeping.

"'Acting out' is buying a sports car or getting a tattoo on your ass, not covering the mayor's office in honey and unleashing bees." Stan countered.

Kenny winced at that memory. It was the second time he'd been killed by bee stings and was no more fun than the first. On the plus side though, it did increase the bee population around the city.

He decided this was not the time to point that out.

Kenny started to rub the knuckles of his left hand with the fingers of his right, a habit he'd picked up from Leo.  "Stan, this is way more complicated than you can understand right now. Trust me, under the monologues and hokey evil laughter, Leo is a good person."

Stan gritted his teeth so hard the vein in his neck started to bulge. He squeezed his hands into fists at his side.

"I'm not letting you stay in danger." He spat.

"I'm not in danger!" Kenny threw back. "He can't hurt me! He wouldn't!"

"Yes, he would!"

"No, he fucking wouldn't!"

Kenny felt his Netherborn side, the beast inside him that was Mysterion's power, start to churn and to feed on his anger. It loved this stress and rage and chaos of emotions. He needed to de-escalate the situation soon. That primal power might be useful in the middle of a life or death battle, but not an argument with his boyfriend.

He held up his hands placatingly. "Please, just, I don't know...do you want to meet him? I can set something up. You can see he's not a bad person."

"He is a supervillain, Kenny. I'm not going to ever meet him. I'm going to call the police and Freedom Pals!" He snatched his phone off the bed stand.

Kenny’s stomach dropped to the floor. No, he could not let that happen! For both his and Leo's sakes, he had to stop Stan from dialing.

He stole a step forward, body tense and ready to pounce. Stan noticed this then scrambled to climb on the bed. He got to his feet, just as ready to leap to either side if Kenny tried anything.

Frustration fed the Netherborn, giving it more strength to crawl farther and farther up into Kenny's conscious mind. If it took over, Kenny didn't know what it would do to get him out of the situation, but it definitely wouldn't be calmly talking things out. Kenny tried to force it back down but struggled greatly. He had to keep focused on Stan at the same time. If he put too much energy into one or the other, he would be royally screwed.

Stan pressed the nine, then went for the two ones, and Kenny pounced onto the bed. He shot himself at Stan, only for Stan to leap over him, landing in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. Kenny rolled over as Stan hurried to his feet.

Stan swore as he backed towards the door, eyes watching Kenny like a hawk, and went to press the call button.

No, Kenny had to stop him. He couldn't break his promise to Leo!

In his panic, the Netherborn took over. He felt the flush of power before he threw out his arm. His dark whip knocked the phone from Stan's hand. It snatched it from the air before throwing it against the wall.

The phone broke apart, the case and back landing near the dresser, the battery sliding under the bed, and the rest of it skidding under it to hit Stan's guitar in the corner.

Stan's mouth hung open in pure shock.

Shit, shit, SHIT! This was the worst way this could go! Now there was no way Stan didn't know he was Mysterion! What was Kenny going to do? What was Stan going to do?

Once the shock wore off, Stan was going to be terrified.

Kenny fought the Netherborn back down for a second, trying desperately to hold on to any rational thoughts before all his fears came flooding back in full force.

No matter how much Stan idolized Mysterion, Kenny had still attacked him. They may have been dating for coming on a year now, but Kenny was still a creature of otherworldly power, granted to him by the epitome of the greatest and most primal of human fears. He wasn’t a normal person, but a monster. Stan wouldn’t want to spend his life with a monster who was only alive thanks to long dead and sleeping gods.

Stan would leave him! Stan would be scared of him! Stan would hate him for this!

Kenny couldn't stand the idea of the inevitable look of fear on his boyfriend's face.

He had to get out! Get away!

Escape! Escape! Escape!

Kenny rolled to his feet and bolted towards the door. In a role reversal, it was Stan this time who made a grab for Kenny. His arms wrapped around his middle, trying to pull him to a stop. Instead, they both began to fall forward.

Kenny began to let himself be pulled into the space between dimensions so he could turn into purple smoke and ghost away, but forced himself to stop. If Stan touched him while he did that, he would accidentally drag him along with him between worlds. Unlike Kenny, Stan couldn't survive in such a place.

Instead, he shoved the Netherborn back down with all his might and let himself fall forward into the carpet. It smelled like dirt and body spray. He didn't even try to resist when Stan crawled off him only to straddle his back and place his hands on his shoulders.

Kenny clenched his eyes shut.

"Fuck," He breathed.

Stan panted above him. "You're...you're Mysterion."

Kenny didn't reply more than a small nod.

He took one hand from his shoulder to place on his face.

"You are Mysterion." He sat back, his full weight on Kenny's lower back.

"Yeah, I am," He mumbled into the carpet. Steeling himself, he asked, "Stan, can you get off of me? I promise not to try and run away," a heartbeat later, Kenny added, "or hurt you."

Stan's remaining hand slipped off his shoulders. A moment passed in silence before he swung his leg up over him. Kenny pushed himself up but didn't dare look at Stan. The terror of what he might see clung to his every thought.

The two sat for untold minutes, only punctuated by Stan's 'you're Mysterion’ mumbles, until Stan finally pulled himself up. Kenny watched his back as he lumbered to the bed and sat. He took a breath then slowly stood himself.

He walked over, hands in his pockets, to stand in front of him.

"Stan?" He asked softly. "Are you ok?"

"You're Mysterion."

"We've established that, yeah." Kenny sighed. "Look, man, I'm so sorry about that. I panicked. It's no excuse, and I wouldn't ever do it again. Please don't," he choked on the words, "please don't be scared of me. I love you too much to hurt you."

Stan shook his head without raising to face him. "You're Mysterion...You're fucking Mysterion!" He snapped his head up and Kenny nearly stumbled back. His boyfriend wasn't scared. He wasn't surprised. He wasn't even in awe.

He was annoyed.

"What the fuck!?" He threw out his hands. "You're supposed to be the smart one between us! How the fuck can you be Mysterion?"

"What?" Kenny furrowed his brow. "I am smart."

Stan held his hands, palms up, and shook them side to side at him with his own eyebrows knitted together and lift half raise . "Clearly not!" He accused. "Because if you were, you would have figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" Kenny groaned. He almost preferred their heated arguing over this.

"That I'm ToolShed!" Stan threw his hands up. "Good God, Kenny! I don't even change my voice like you do—which, fucking called that! I mean, fuck, dude, Call Girl figured it out a week into our relationship!"

Kenny blinked once, his brain slowly starting to process that information. He stared hard at Stan before bringing up ToolShed in his mind's eye. Maybe they did look a little similar, same nose, cheekbones, and square jaw, same toned arms, greasy head of hair, height and build, but Stan Marsh could not be ToolShed. Stan Marsh was just a normal person, while ToolShed was a super-powered hero. They had to be different people.

And yet...

All at once, everything started to fit together. How many canceled dates happened at the same time an emergency called upon the Freedom Pals to jump into action? How many times did ToolShed have patrol happen whenever Stan had to 'work weird hours'? How many times had he seen that familiar look of compassion cross ToolShed’s face?

Hell, Kenny even had to remind himself to hold back any flirtatious comments he had when he was around ToolShed as Mysterion. He'd always chalked that up to just feeling comfortable around his fellow hero, but if ToolShed and Stan were the same person...

A thousand responses rushed through his head. He could turn Stan freaking out about him being a superhero back on him. He could be angry that Stan never told him. He could admit it was obvious that Stan was ToolShed.

He could have said anything, but the first words to come out of his mouth were, "You got to bone Call Girl? How was that?"

Kenny felt his face flush. He opened his mouth to fumble out an apology, but Stan burst into laughter. He howled, doubling over. The tension and frustration that clung in the air began to lessen and Kenny joined in.

"Ok, sorry, I don't know why I asked that," He apologized around giggles.

"No, no, it's cool," Stan shook his head. "Also the answer to that is 'really good'. I can't say more, or Wendy will leak my whole search history to the world."

"Wendy's their name? I never knew that. Either way, nice," He let out a low whistle then asked, "Dude, can I sit down?"

"Yeah, go for it."

He sat next to him, forearms rested on his thighs. He chewed his lip.

"So, what now?" He asked.

Stan shrugged then fell backward to the mattress. "You explain what exactly your plan is with Chaos would be a good start." He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Seriously, what is up with that? It's Professor Chaos. How did you two even start dating? Does he...know? About you being..."

Kenny sighed then fell back himself. "He does. I know his real name. He knows mine. It's an insurance policy I offered him when we first started out. If I tell the police his identity, he tells the criminal underworld mine."  

Stan cringed, looking away, and Kenny continued, "Don't worry. At this point, I'd have to be the one to betray him for my secret to slip.”

“You're sure about that? How do you know he's not just waiting for the right moment?” Stan asked, setting a hand over the top of Kenny's.

Kenny press his lips into a line before letting out a low breath.

“He just won't. Just know that he wouldn't sell me out unless I sold out him first.”

That was the truth. They had gotten well passed the point in their relationship that that sensitive information was anything to worry. Neither would dare use it for his own gain now.

Chaos would never do anything that would hurt Kenny, likewise Mysterion would never do anything that would hurt Leo.

Stan opened his mouth but Kenny quickly went on, “Remember that honey thing? That's how it all started."

"I remember you just came back to life after being stung to death and then dove into the middle of his honey coating machine and got trapped with Chaos." Stan frowned. "It took us nearly two hours to break through it all and he escaped in the end."

"Yeah, well, in that two hours, Chaos and I had a long talk." Kenny shut his eyes. "And I confirmed something I already suspected: Chaos is a good person; he's just scared of what he can't control, like everyone else."

In his mind's eyes, Chaos' terrified face looked back at him from across the cockpit of the honey machine, illuminated by only the lights from the control panel.

"Chaos doesn't want to hurt people. Even if his views are misguided in their execution, he really thinks what he does is for the greater good in the end."

"Even if he 'doesn't want to', he still does! He is a supervillain, Kenny." Stan shook his head. "Does he even actually care about you?"

Kenny turned, his eyes opening enough to show narrow slits. "Yes, he does." His voice came out darker than he meant it to, but he kept the tone as he went on, "I am important to him. He is important to me."

"I see."

Kenny turned his face toward the ceiling. "Haven't you noticed how he hasn't been as active lately? How his crimes aren't as extreme? Having a support system, he has someone to come to when things get too out of hand, when he gets scared, so he doesn't take it out on the city."

Stan thought on that a moment.

"You really think you're fixing him?"

"Not fixing. It's not my job to fix anyone. I'm helping."

"Ok then." Stan breathed through his nose. "I trust you. If you think you can turn Chaos, Leo, from evil, then do what you need to. I’ll support you."

Pushing himself up, he turned to Stan, eyes wide. "You mean that? You'll keep this a secret?"

He nodded. "I promise I won't tell unless I think your life is in actual danger."

Kenny examined Stan's face for any falsehoods. He had to make sure that Stan wouldn't go straight to Doctor Timothy the second Kenny wasn't looking.

When he found none, a weight fell of his shoulders.

Happy tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Before Stan could react, Kenny pounced, arms wrapping around his shoulders and pinning him to the bed. Stan pulled a hand up and petted the back of his head.

He pressed a kiss to his temple then muttered, "But, if he betrays you, know that I will personally strangle him myself."

There was not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. Kenny knew he meant every word of that.

~~~~~~~

AN: next update will be next Wednesday

[esandcasg]

Chapter One - A Solitude Broken

The sound of a motorbike engine starting up outside the hut startled me. I had been dozing, half-asleep, listening to the wind and the sound of the cedallas, the loud insects that populated the jungle nearby. It had been a still night when I finally went to sleep, but the sound of the wind had woken me. It was such a rarity in this still, calm place, that I lay silently, listening to it rustle across the roof of the hut, taken in by the novelty of it.

I looked across at the watch next to my bed. It was close to three in the morning. I pushed the sheet off my bed and sat for a moment at the edge of the mattress. The mosquito net draped down across me, and I stared without focus at the mesh in front of my eyes.

The sound of the motorbike receded into the night. I edged out from underneath the net, my eyes adjusting to the dark. Four short steps took me to the door of my home; I swung it open and looked outside.

A cloudy sky hung over the village. The wind gusted a little, making me shiver. I reached back inside and grabbed a pullover which I’d left on a chair. Putting it on, I stepped outside into the night. Ahead of me, the jungle spread out across the horizon, a solitary road cutting through it, the only artery feeding the village, with its cluster of wooden huts. Each hut was pretty basic; two rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom, with a small veranda outside. The walls were wood poles tied together with banana leaves; the roof poles overlaid with leaves. They were simple yet sufficient; sturdy enough to withstand tropical storms; cool enough to provide refuge from the heat and humidity. My own hut, which stood a little away from the six others in the village, had been my home for the last three years.

I walked slowly out onto the decking which formed the veranda, where I’d placed a small wooden rocking chair which I’d built two years previously. I sat there now, thinking. There was a tranquillity to life here in the village, but I knew it was an artificial one. Somewhere, not all that far away, was the world I’d left; a world I was afraid I would have to re-enter at some point.

As there was only one way in or out of the village, the motorbike must have belonged to one of the villagers. That in itself wasn’t strange, motorbikes were pretty much the only way in or out, unless you fancied a spine-breaking cycle ride along the pockmarked track, or a three hour walk. Heading out at three in the morning was a bit odd, however.

I was awake enough to know that I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now, so I headed back inside and loaded up my coffee machine; watching the locally roasted beans grinding down softly, listening to the soft gurgle of water filtering through the grounds, wincing at the loudness of the steam punching through the milk, smiling involuntarily at the splash of the pumpkin spice syrup. After sprinkling on some cinnamon power, I reached for the TV remote, put on CNN and stepped back outside with my latte.

Despite the wind, the tranquillity of the village life was undeniable. I had never known simplicity like it, even in my mountaineering days, camped high on some peak with just the gear in my tent and a snow melter, the only person on a remote mountain in the middle of the Terra Del Firma. Even then I had all my gear; down suit, goggles, ice axes, willow wands, double boots (plastic outer, foam-lined inner) that insulated me both physically and mentally against the environment. I was not living some mountain life, I was transient, passing through. Although I always found a piece of mind on the high slopes and ice fields, I knew that I was not staying, that this was not and never could be my home.

I had tried to make a life in the mountains.

The long trek back to Lhasa ten years ago, walking along the Godwin-Antwi glacier, through the Vale of Caldor and the Pass of Caradhras, had given me time to think. Time to process all that had happened on Kangleong, but also to consider what my life would be. Something had changed in me during that time on the mountain. Beforehand I had been an ambitious, free-spirited rock and ice climber, used to dicey pitches on exposed granite, not afraid of leads up to 5.16B; happy to front point up a frozen waterfall like Bridaveil or Victoria Falls. I had next to no experience on high peaks, and little experience climbing at altitude. I certainly had never spent any length of time on a mountain in one go; I enjoyed fast and light ascents of rock walls such as the Eiger Nordwand and the North Face of Berghaus.

Kangleong had been my first real expedition; my first time in the death zone. My first prolonged period at altitude, suffering the debilitating effects of oxygen deprivation. The first real time where things had gone wrong.

And things had gone wrong. Badly wrong.

Truth be told, I’d barely made it off the mountain alive. An ankle badly broken, storms which battered the slopes, avalanches, serac falls. Not to mention the deaths of the entire Korean team, as well as several climbers we knew. All in all, sixty-eight people had gone to climb Kangleong and not returned home, their names punched into metal plates which now hung from the Art Gilkey memorial, a stone cairn near base camp.

Two names on the memorial I had punched in myself: Adam Ewart and Ifan Thorne. Their names hung there still. For a while I thought they had died, until I discovered the truth; that they were not the people I thought they were, that they had hidden their real purpose on Kangleong, and that I was now bound to their deception whether I liked it or not.

I had plenty of time to think on the way home; on the trek, on the flight to Islamabad, on the last leg of them all, the flight to London. To consider the story that I would tell and what sort of life I wanted to live next.

It turned out I would have little choice in that matter.

Kangleong may have been a remote peak in the Karakoram, far from the glamour of Everest, K2 or Cirith Gorgor, but the disaster on the mountain had made the news across the world. To have been, in essence, the sole western survivor brought incredible scrutiny on me. Endless questions as to what happened; meetings in the Korean embassy; press stalking me at home; the pressure was unbearable. I tried to retreat to the thing I knew best: climbing.

Unfortunately I had reckoned without the reaction of the climbing community, colleagues I had known and respected for years, who had accompanied me on numerous climbs.

It started with an innocuous column in Outside magazine, authored by Joe Simpson, who claimed that my account of what had happened bore remarkable similarity to Touching the Void, No Way Down, Dark Summit and Into Thin Air. Furthermore, he asserted that I should have done more to rescue Adam and Ifan, rather than going on about my broken foot, an injury he described as ‘commonplace in the mountains’. Whilst a single article might have been easy to dismiss, a groundswell of opinion was forming which disputed that we’d even summited Kangleong at all. Although we’d all taken pictures, I hadn’t realised that my Instagram page had been suspended in the days prior, and as a result the photos did not upload. I therefore had little to show for the months I spent on the mountain, and all the deaths I had witnessed.

The interest in me grew; the clients I’d booked on my first expedition under the banner of my new company, Mountain Stupidity (admittedly poorly named), dropped out, one by one. At the same time, high-profile climbers were lining up to criticise me. Adrian Ballinger, Simone Moro, Lewis Hamilton, Carla Perez, they had all been asked to give their views and each condemned me. Although I tried to ignore their comments, it had begun to take a toll on me mentally and physically. However, it was a subsequent interview that struck the final, conclusive hammer blow.

“I don’t like sitting in judgement of other mountaineers. Everyone has their own margin of safety, their own level of acceptable risk. Throughout my career I’ve refrained from commenting on others’ decisions. Just because I might not do the same thing, doesn’t mean that they’re wrong. Veikka and I turned back from a slope I considered too avalanche-prone on Annapurna in 2002. JC Lafaille climbed through the slope and made the summit. Different climbers make different decisions. However, in the case of the so-called ‘disaster’ on Kangleong, it’s pretty clear to me that rudimentary mistakes were made. Why were they so reliant on fixed ropes? Why didn’t they place enough willow wands? And it comes down squarely on Casey’s shoulders. You have a responsibility to yourself and to your climbing companions. After all, getting to the top is optional; getting down…”

I had stopped reading there. Ed Viesturs’ damning judgement fell over me like a thundercloud. I knew then that I could no longer expect to make a career from climbing. My sponsors Mountain Equipment, La Sportiva and Active Recovery no longer were interested in continuing our relationship. I packed up my things, sold my house and left the country I had called home and the life that was all I knew.

I travelled for three years; picking up odd jobs here and there, trying to find a purpose for myself. Nothing seemed to stick. Washed up and despairing, I found myself back in the Pink Flamingo in Kathmandu.

Nothing had changed since I’d been there five years previously. Aimless and without ideas, I found a secluded corner, ordered a bottle of Harbour Reef and sat down. The bar was pretty empty; the only patrons a few hard-core climbers from Eastern Europe, trying winter ascents of Himalayan peaks. I heard one of them mention Death Mountain, not too far from Goron City. This was one of the peaks Adam had climbed early on in his career. I wondered now whether that was true, or part of his deception.

For hours I drank slowly and in solitude. I felt I had reached the end of the road. Maybe I could pick up some work here; maybe I could just find a quiet corner of the city and live out my days here. I sank further into the beer. The bar began to blur. I remember someone trying to help me stand up, staggering forward, and then darkness.

I woke to the sound of a fan spinning above me. My head felt like it had been split open. I struggled to focus on anything in the room I was lying in; I was on a mattress on a concrete floor; apart from this and the fan there was nothing else in the room.

I didn’t know how long I’d been lying there for. Moving was agony. I tried to sit up but couldn’t make even that small effort. Defeated, I sank back down into the mattress and stared at the fan, its rotations syncing with the thumping in my head.

Some time later I heard the door open. I felt, rather than saw, people come in. One of them placed a jug of something and a mug on the floor next to me, then left the room. The other just stood in a corner.

“It’s tea,” the person said, in a voice I recognised. “Drink. It will help.”

With what seemed like a gargantuan effort, I rolled to one side and managed to drink from the mug. Warm liquid flushed through my body. I placed the mug back down and lay breathless on my side.

“Just relax for a moment,” the person said. “You’re free of the alcohol”.

I touched my face with my hand and moaned.

“Shhh,” said the person. “You have hibernation sickness. Or a hangover.”

“I can’t see”, I said.

“Your eyesight will return in time.”

“Where I am?”

“My house.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone who loves you.”

“Pasang?” I said, incredulously.

There was a soft laugh as the person stepped forward and crouched down next to the mattress. His face came into focus.

“Pasang!”

Pasang Sherpa. The lead climbing Sherpa from our expedition to Kathmandu. I don’t know how many times I had spoken his name in the telling of the story on the mountain. His dramatic individual rescues of Adam, Ifan and myself were legendary. The fact that he’d set my broken ankle with rudimentary surgery involving willow wands and three pitons defied belief. But he was the reason I could walk. Pasang had organised all our logistics, accompanied us throughout the entire trip, and stayed with me whilst the avalanche took – or so I thought – Adam and Ifan off the slopes. I couldn’t have imagined the whole thing without him.

He’d left me at Base Camp, dealing with the rest of the four hundred Sherpa that had supported our climb; I’d assumed I wouldn’t see him again. But here he was.

For the next two years I stayed at Pasang’s house whilst he nursed me back to health. After fourteen Iboga treatments and several colonics I felt fit and ready to live my life. It was Pasang who made me believe in myself again; made me realise that there was still a place for me in the world.

I started climbing again; Pasang’s extensive network of Sherpa guaranteed that I would have a partner on the slopes. I deliberately sought out remote peaks where I would be sure we would have the mountain to ourselves. First I climbed the Diamir Face of Ouanoukrim with Lobsang Sherpa, a feat we managed in a single thirteen hour push. Sadly on the descent, Lobsang was hit by rockfall. I lowered his body into a crevasse.

Then I moved across to Mount Toubkal, a little known peak in the Andes, with Little Tenzing Sherpa. Although we made it to 34000 ft, we were caught in a storm for fifteen days and were forced to retreat, but not before Little Tenzing succumbed to HAPE. I lowered his body into a crevasse.

I pioneered the first ascent of Greenland’s highest peak, Crib Goch, moving fast and light up the heavily corniced ridge with Nirmal Sherpa. It was on the ridge, coming back down, that Nirmal fell 15000ft down a knife-edge slope. Although I managed to halt his slide with the rope that held us together, Nirmal bruised his spine. I lowered his body into a crevasse.

After these expeditions, Pasang informed me that three houses in a remote village had become available; the village was home to a community of climbing Sherpa. Although I had been happy living at Pasang’s house, in truth things had become frayed between us, due in part to my insistence of pointing out abandoned railway lines. The timing therefore was opportune. It was time for me to commit to my new life, living amongst the only people who had truly ever accepted me for who I was.

I chose one of the vacant huts and moved my meagre possessions in. It would be a simple existence; no electricity, no running water. I would be completely cut off from the modern world but I believed that was what I needed. And for the next three years I lived in happy, tranquil solitude, far from the trappings of modern life.

And now I sat on my veranda, drinking the last of my pumpkin spice latte, unaware that my peaceful life would be shattered in a way that I would never had imagined.

I put my mug down and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of the village. Then something else caught my attention. A snippet of a phrase coming from the TV. Slowly, I eased myself back off the chair and wandered back into my hut, where CNN was showing on the TV.

“We’re getting reports of a large earthquake in the Karakoram region of the Himalaya, a region containing some of the world’s highest mountains, such as K2, Broad Peak and Kangleong. At present it is unclear what destruction, if any, the earthquake has caused.”

An earthquake, in the Karakoram?

It didn’t make sense. Of all the regions in the world, the Karakoram mountains were the last place I expected an earthquake. The unique geology of that region, with large, pyramid-like peaks anchored deep into the earth, made it famously stable and secure. In all of recorded history there had been no record of any earthquake there. It was unheard of.

I stared blankly at the screen, unable to process the news. The story might have seemed innocuous to most of CNN’s viewers but it had left me dumbfounded. My close ties to the Karakoram made it so. What could have happened there?

Shaking, I moved back to the coffee machine. As the beans were grinding I poured myself a glass of water from the mixer tap I’d recently had installed and downed it, followed by another. It was as if my past were returning to haunt me. I placed my mug down on the table and it fell to the floor, shattering like glass. I swore, crouching down with the dustpan and brush to sweep it all up. As I did, I stopped. I was aware of something different about the room, something foreign in there. I placed down the dustpan and brush, slowly stood and turned round.

Standing at the doorway to my hut was Adam.

“Hello mate,” he said.

[neverisalongtime-ja-blog]

Chapter 29: 90’s babe

I know I'm uploading super late today but the internet connection has been so bad the whole day. But here it is: chapter 29!

Thank you so much to everyone who write me here and on Instagram! It makes my heart so happy!

Remember to visit Anastasia’s IG profile:

Anastasia_Truman  ❤️️

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥

Read chapter 28

Before the show in San Diego, Anastasia discovered a sweet surprise at her dressing room in the Valley View Casino Center. It was filled with red roses, at least five huge bouquets. She was thrilled, although she didn’t like roses. She walked to the flowers and spotted a small card, she read it was actually Peyton who sent them to Mandy. Anastasia couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, she was feeling so happy by the relationship her friend had until she heard a voice behind her that brought her back to earth.

 -          Wow, what’s all this? – Josh asked entering the room.

-          Someone sent flowers – She said trying to ignore him and hiding part of the story.

-          But… roses? You hate roses – He said making Anastasia remember how well he knew her – You only like wild flowers, you always say that roses are basic and…

-          Yes, Josh, I know what I said before – She cut him off – But this is a nice thing.

-          Are you seeing someone? – He went straight forward.

-          Well… you could say so – She said lying and not knowing why.

-          Well, this guy doesn’t know you at all. He didn’t investigate you like I did.

-          What?! Investigate me? – She asked kind of annoyed.

-          Yeah, and one of the first things I learned about you is that you hate roses – Josh said smiling and Anastasia was confused by the direction of this conversation – By the way I didn’t have the chance to ask you, but what did you think about Dot Hacker’s new record?

-          I liked it so much I destroyed my turntable listening to it – She said even more confused by the question.

-          How come?

-          Because of the messages in the songs. I was angry – Maybe this was the moment for them to talk straight.

-          Sorry to hear that – Was all that Josh managed to say – Your turntable was a historic piece.

-          Josh, you wrote songs about feeling bad in our relationship, about how it wasn’t working, but you never talked to me about it! – There she was, giving her attention to the white elephant in the room.

-          I know and I can’t apologize to you enough – Josh said looking to the floor like he always did when he was ashamed. - But of all the people in the world, you know how great it is to put your feelings in a song. I wrote about loving you too.

-          I know and it made everything much more confusing – Anastasia said angry.

-          I’m sorry… - Josh couldn’t finish his sentence because Mandy entered the room screaming.

-          Oh my God! What is this? – She asked looking at the flowers and realizing Josh’s presence

-          It wasn’t me – He said looking at Mandy.

-          It’s obvious – She said taking the card from Anastasia’s hands. Now Josh would know the truth – They are from Peyton! – Mandy said overly excited – Oh my God! That little fucker! I love him so much! – She screamed.

 Anastasia saw Josh smiling wide, almost laughing, and then leaving. She felt so stupid.

 -          Josh thought they were for me – Anastasia told Mandy.

-          Sweetie! Oh God! Sorry! – Mandy said checking the roses – I would have followed the lead.

-          Don’t worry, that would have been childish – Anastasia said laughing.

 After the show that night everyone was ready for a long break. They’d be out for about three weeks. Anastasia was going to be busy for the next few days, her birthday was coming up and she was preparing a big party to turn 28. She followed Mandy’s advice and invited Alex but he respectfully declined saying that he needed to go back to Miami for work. She felt disappointed but totally understood; that’s a doctor’s lifestyle.

 One Friday in Los Angeles, with the party a week away, Nick invited Anastasia to a bar where he, Eric and some friends were going to see a local band play. Mandy joined her as Peyton was extremely busy with the start of the baseball season. It was a nice bar in Pasadena and the band played a soft rock kind of music, they were good and Anastasia realized they could be a great add to her label. The night was being fun and she was chatting with Eric’s friends including Clint and Jonathan. Hannah was there too and suddenly all the happiness went to hell when she saw Josh entering the place holding hands with Lauren; she was wearing the tightest pony tail in history and a pair of black leather pants with a pink crop top and, again, she thought how despair the two looked together. She felt Mandy’s arms around her as they walked away to avoid them.

 -          How can she be so tacky? – Mandy said while ordering two mojitos at the bar.

-          I don’t wanna make this sound like I’m jealous but they aren’t meant for each other! – Anastasia said.

-          I know and you are jealous anyway – Mandy said giving Anastasia her glass.

-          What?! – Anastasia asked.

-          It’s normal – Mandy said – I know you are over it, but it’s normal to have those feelings.

-          I’m not jealous! – Anastasia screamed as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Josh and Lauren standing there and that made her furious.

-          Hi! – Josh said. How dare he flaunt Lauren in Anastasia’s face?

-          How are you? – Anastasia asked without any emotion.

-          We wanted to say hi! – Lauren said with her annoying voice – Because I’m a huge fan and I think I already told you that and I’m so happy you are friends with Josh – Anastasia could hear Mandy burst into laughter behind her.

-          Oh well… hi! – Anastasia said.

-          Do you want something to drink? – Mandy asked Lauren to be polite.

-          Oh no. I’m on an alcohol-free diet – Lauren asked as Josh turned to talk with one of his friends leaving them in this awkward conversation.

-          Is that the Pre-Euthanasia Diet? – Anastasia asked finding her sarcastic spot - ‘Cuz that would be the only way I’ll be alcohol free. If I was going to die.

-          Be real, not even in that moment would you knock off alcohol – Mandy said to Anastasia laughing.

-          Do you have any idea how many calories alcohol has? – Lauren asked really concerned, demonstrating she didn’t understand sarcasm.

-          Lauren, my friend, you are funny – Anastasia put a hand on Lauren’s right shoulder - and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know what euthanasia is. Live life! Have fun! Drink the alcohol! Practice euthanasia! – She and Mandy laughed hard and Lauren tried to follow them laughing too but not knowing what about.

-          Ok, we’ll see you around, girls – Josh said realizing the situation and taking Lauren far.

-          That was so epic! – A voice said behind Anastasia and she saw Kelly.

-          Your fucking hair! – Anastasia screamed touching Kelly’s hair which was lavender now.

-          Welcome to the cool hair color club! – Mandy said hugging Kelly.

-          I need one of those mojitos because I’m not on the Pre-Euthanasia Diet – The three friends burst into a hard and loud laugh.

 The party was almost set and Anastasia’s birthday – April 1st – was a Saturday which made everything more perfect. The theme of the night was the 90’s and everyone should dress according to that decade. Mark prepared a bunch of amazing 90’s mixes and Barbara took care of the food and the drinks. The party was going to be held at Anastasia’s home in Beverly Hills, she hasn’t thrown a party there since she was in college. She and Mandy were really excited for their outfits: plaid miniskirts, tight sweaters, thigh-high socks and heeled ankle boots, combat style, an outfit that would had made Cher Horowitz burn with envy.

When Anastasia got downstairs a nice group of friends and family were already there: her dad, Mark and Stephanie (who was looking amazing with a long spaghetti-strap dress with a daisy print), Barbara and even Chad, his wife and Anthony made it to the party. Flea couldn’t go but Clara could make it, she brought her boyfriend with her; many high school friends were there too and some from college and in a corner of her backyard she saw a lavender head and next to her she spotted Josh, joined by Nick, Eric, Hannah and thankfully no Lauren to be seen. That would have been a slap in her face (seeing Lauren there), but Josh didn’t play that low.

Everyone greeted Anastasia and praised her outfit choice, especially Josh who couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. That made her feel powerful but she didn’t let it go to her head. She was having too much fun singing TLC songs with Mandy and Kelly while Josh recorded them with his phone. Everyone was having a nice time. But suddenly, she found herself alone with Josh in a corner of the backyard. She felt nervous so she started to talk about anything.

 -          I wanted to wear a cute Stones’ t-shirt I own but then I remember I left it at your house. I never went to pick up my stuff from your place, sorry about that – Anastasia said.

-          Don’t worry, they’re still there for whenever you want to come by – Josh said – Do you have the stuff I left here?

-          No. I threw it away – Anastasia said and Josh looked surprised – Joking, Mandy put it in a box in the basement and that’s how I knew I had a basement!

-          What? – Josh laughed.

-          I always knew there was one extra door in this house – She was barely sober by that moment.

-          You’re crazy – Josh was laughing hard – Hey, come with me so I can give you your gifts.

 And just like that, without any warning, Josh took her right hand and walked her out of the house to his car: He opened the trunk and two big boxes laid there, wrapped in black wrapping paper with a silver moon print and silver bows on top.

 -          You need to open them now – Josh said – I want you to do it here, with no one around.

-          Really? – She looked at him.

 He nodded as she proceeded to open the boxes. She chose the small one first, even though it was still big, tearing the paper like a small kid on Christmas, it was a new turntable, all crystal clear, perfect size.

 -          It was my fault you destroyed yours, so… - Josh said scratching his head with his free hand (he had his drink in the other) – It’s the same I have at home, it sounds like heaven.

 She smiled and looked at the other box, it was larger and she destroyed the paper with little patience. It was a guitar case. Josh helped put it near her on the trunk so she could open it. It was dark outside but she could see that the case was made in dark blue synthetic leather and had a pattern of half-moons all over.

 -          I know you like moons – He said smiling.

 Anastasia’s chin went straight to the floor when she opened the case. It was a custom made Fender Stratocaster guitar, with a mirror finish and a bird and a flower print. The scratch plate was made in mother-of-pearl. It was the most beautiful guitar she had ever seen.

 -          Look at this – Josh said pointing at the head were her name was engraved in gold.

-          Josh, this is beautiful! – She picked the guitar, the strap had moons all over too – I have no words.

-          Just say thanks and let’s go back to the party – Josh took the guitar and placed it on the case, but Anastasia couldn’t take it anymore and hugged him. She hugged him so tightly while tears started to run from her eyes – Don’t cry!

-          It’s just that this is so beautiful! – She said – When did you have it made?

-          Around October – He answered.

-          Is this because I gave you a custom made guitar too?

-          No! Not at all. I just thought that it was going to be something you would appreciate. I wanted it to be ready for Christmas, but the team couldn’t do it so I saved it for your birthday.

-          This is so special! – She was feeling all kinds of things inside her brain by that moment and mixed with alcohol it made more tears run down her face.

-          You are special – He said and took her by her chin to wipe her tears away.

 They locked eyes and stared at each other for what it seemed an eternity. Anastasia wanted to kiss Josh but she knew it wasn’t the most intelligent thing to do. However, he surprised her coming closer and joining his lips with her. She missed him, she missed that. Josh gave her the most sweet, caring kiss she had had in a long time. Not even when they were a couple did he kiss her that way. It was slow but full of passion. Josh broke away and ran his thumb over Anastasia’s lips, looking into her eyes with desire.

 -          I think we should go back inside – He was the first to talk, breaking the spell.

-          Yes – She agreed, breathing heavily. She attempted to grab her gifts but Josh stopped her.

-          Don’t worry, I’ll carry them inside before I leave, later.

Anastasia smiled and walked back to the house without even noticing if Josh was following her. She was shocked, smiling like she hadn’t smiled in weeks. She decided to not say anything to anyone, to keep the surprise for later but she was the one about to be surprised again that night.

Later, when most of the guest had already left, she was inside the living room when her father approached her.

 -          Come with me – An’s dad said – I have a surprise for you.

 He walked with her to the garden where she saw Mark, Stephanie, Nick, Eric, Hannah, Kelly, Josh, Barbara, Anthony, Mandy, Peyton, Clara and her boyfriend, Chad and his wife and a blond lady in the middle of them. Anastasia recognized her and stood still abruptly. She couldn’t believe it, it was Stevie Nicks, wearing the most gorgeous blue shawl she had ever seen, with fringes all over. Anastasia looked at his father who laughed because she must have the most stupid look on her face by now. Stevie walked towards her and gave the birthday girl a warm hug; it was just how she imagined it would be. Anastasia wasn’t a girl with idols and she wasn’t a fan of anything, but Stevie Nicks was in a whole other level. She touched Stevie’s face, then regretted it and said sorry, but the “White Witch,” as some called Nicks, just laughed.

 -          Mister Nick here told me it was your birthday – Stevie said – And I wanted to come and say hi since I heard you are a big fan.

-          The biggest! – She said without thinking about it and everyone laughed. Anastasia could see Mandy was crying and smiling.

-          I must admit that I’m your fan too – Stevie said – I love your music, it’s so pure and the way you sing it is magical.

-          I can’t believe you are saying this – Anastasia said – Have you listened to us?

-          All your records – Stevie answered smiling.

-          Shut up! – Anastasia smiled wider.

-          I think we should go inside and play some music – Anastasia’s dad said – Would you like that? – She didn’t answer; instead she jumped into his arms giving him a big hug.

 Once everyone found a place in the living room, Nick handle a guitar to Stevie and Anastasia sat next to her in the big central couch. Stevie started to play the first notes of “Landslide” and the midnight-blue-haired girl looked at Josh instantly, he smiled tenderly at her. Both singers recited every word on that song. After that “Dreams” followed, then it was the turn for “Sara,” in “Gypsy” Stevie gave the guitar to An, she played and they finished with everyone singing along to “The Chain.”

That was the best birthday Anastasia could have had, without a doubt. She went to sleep that night with the biggest smile on her face and next morning when she walked downstairs and saw Josh’s gifts near her kitchen that smile became wider.

But, above all, she wasn’t going to get over that fact that Stevie “Dame” Nicks had been at her place the night before to serenade her on her birthday. That was the best gift of all without a doubt.

Read chapter 30

[boschlingtumbles]

It��s a Nice Day for a White Wedding (Chapter 2)

Brienne took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, savoring the northern sunrise. She had initially been hesitant about taking the spring term research position in the far north. It was an incredible academic experience no question, but she’d be a thousand miles from her friends and family and Jaime... 

Jaime had put his foot down. He refused to be the reason she missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime, working with her academic idols. He’d practically ordered her to take the job, and he’d been wearing a suit at the time and he knew how she felt about him wearing a suit... 

Brienne shook her head. The spring in Hardhome had been incredible. And even better, she’d been offered a summer job on an archaeology dig at the Fist of the First Man! She had been waiting to tell Jaime in person when she saw him—he’d been flying up on weekends. A year out of college, Jaime was now working at his father’s corporation and loathing every minute of it. But at least it gave him ample free time for his still-in-college girlfriend. 

Just then her phone buzzed. It was Jaime, and she felt a burst of happiness in her heart just seeing his name.

Whatever you do don’t take Cersei’s call. Or any call. She could be spoofing the number. 

Uh okay. That was... odd. But Jaime had a tendency to get a little paranoid where Cersei was concerned.

The phone rang. It was Jaime.

“Hi Jaim—“ Brienne began.

“That was a test wench! You failed! She can spoof any number, even mine! Do not, repeat DO NOT, answer the phone!” Jaime scolded her. “Actually, you know what? Turn your phone off. It’ll be safest that way. I’ll see you at the airport this afternoon and explain everything, I promise!”

“You’d better,” Brienne managed with a sinking feeling. “I won’t talk to you all weekend if you’re going to be weird.”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Brienne sighed. And then she turned her phone off. Because she did love him, even when he was being weird.

She had finished her morning research and decided to go for a run on the outdoor track during her lunch break when she heard it. The impossibly loud roar of a chopper touching down on Hardhome University’s baseball diamond. Brienne clapped her ears over her head and stared as the sparkling white chopper gently set down, clouds of brown dust swirling toward home base.

Brienne squinted. Did the helicopter say “Lannister Corp” on the door? The door swung open and a slim woman with waves of gorgeous blond hair stepped out. Oh. 

Cersei Lannister delicately placed her designer heels down in the red clay, and even from a thousand yards away, Brienne could see the small grimace as the dirt puffed around the ankles of her navy three piece suit.

Cersei was Jaime’s twin sister and the most beautiful person Brienne knew in real life. She had a movie star glow to her that had always left Brienne somewhat tongue-tied in her presence. It didn’t help matters that Cersei was also completely terrifying.

Brienne was never sure if Cersei actually liked her. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if Cersei actually liked anybody except maybe Jaime. But Cersei approved of her, and Brienne was constantly petrified that someday Cersei might change her mind. Because Cersei was someone you would much rather have on your side than not.

“Brienne, darling!” Cersei had spotted her and waved.

Keenly aware that the every last member of the  exercise-during-lunch crowd was staring at her, Brienne pasted a smile on her face and walked over to embrace her.

In addition to being five five to Brienne’s six foot two, Cersei was built like a bird and Brienne had her usual moment of anxiety where she thought if she squeezed too hard she might break her.

“You look amazing,” Brienne blurted, keenly aware that sweat stains were visible through her gray t-shirt.

“For now,” Cersei sniffed. “Has Jaime told you?”

“Jaime hasn’t told me anything,” Brienne said, suddenly remembering his cryptic warning.

“I am pregnant,” Cersei said, with the grave expression of someone sharing a terminal diagnosis.

“Congrats?” Brienne ventured cautiously.

“At any moment my entire body could balloon to twice its size,” Cersei continued grimly.

“I don’t actually think that’s how pregnancy...”

“We are working against the clock.”

“Wait we?”

“Yes Brienne,” Cersei suddenly caught her hand, her enormous green eyes shining softly.

“I have to marry Robert in the greatest wedding the world has ever seen and nobody can realize that I’m pregnant. I have just over two months to put together a ceremony and reception for five hundred people and I simply can’t do it without you.”

Brienne swallowed, eyes frantically skittering anywhere but Cersei’s plaintive gaze.

“I don’t know anything about party planning,” Brienne managed.

“But I do. And I need someone I can trust to carry out my orders to the letter,” Cersei squeezed her hand. “Brienne, will you be my maid of honor?”

There was nothing else for it. Brienne squared her shoulders.

“I would be delighted,” she said firmly.

The soft doe-eyed expression on Cersei’s face immediately gave way to an expression of brisk efficiency.

“Excellent,” Cersei let go of her hand and wiped her palm on her pant leg.

“I have taken the liberty of having my assistant upload the wedding calendar into your personal calendar. I will have her email you the spreadsheet of relevant vendors, and I’ll expect you in Oldtown for the dress fittings next week.”

“Oh I can’t,” Brienne said. “I’m leaving on an archeological dig on Monday for a month.”

“Oh no you’re not doing that any more,” Cersei shook her head.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about,” Brienne said uncertainly. “I haven’t told any—“

“Dr Benjen Stark’s expedition. You were offered the role two weeks ago,” Cersei looked impatient. “Obviously circumstances have changed. I’ve arranged for you to be a research assistant to Archmaester Marwyn in Oldtown this summer instead.”

“Archmaester Marwyn?!” Brienne goggled. “But he doesn’t even take undergraduate applicants! I don’t even have a focus in his field of study!”

“My father helped him out with some nasty business in the Citadel once, he was happy to return the favor. Is field of study an issue? He promised to add you a co-author on his article regarding lost books of history, but if you’d prefer to concentrate on history north of the wall, I think you’ll find him quite... flexible. He’s very brilliant you know. He can write on just about anything.”

Brienne stared at her. To be an undergraduate co-authoring an article with the greatest living historian in the world?! But she wouldn’t really be co-authoring the article, she reminded herself firmly. It would just be her name slapped on some piece of scholarship she’d never even seen. It was academic perjury, plain and simple.

“Absolutely not,” Brienne said firmly. “I really appreciate the opportunity, Cersei, truly. And I’ll talk to the leader of the expedition and see if I can take a weekend off to help with wedding stuff. But I’m going on this dig with Dr. Stark.”

“Oh Brienne,” Cersei smiled gently. “The expedition has been cancelled.”

“What?!”

“Well deferred really. The funding was pulled. I’m sure it’ll be available next year if you still want to go.”

Brienne opened her mouth. And then shut it. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You can’t shake a pregnant lady. Especially one who weighs like ninety pounds wet.

“So you see, the move to Oldtown is really for the best,” Cersei continued blithely. “Will you be a dear and help me with my luggage. I need to let the helicopter get back to King’s Landing before my father notices I’ve borrowed it.”

“Luggage?” Brienne managed. “You came to stay with me?”

“Of course! It’s not like I know anyone else in Hardhome,” Cersei cast a blatantly unimpressed look around. “Would you believe this school doesn’t have a single helicopter pad?”

Yes.

“How were you going to find me? What if I’d been away?” Brienne answered a little impatiently.

“Jaime said you’re training for a marathon and run at the track during lunch. I tried to call your phone but you weren’t picking up, so I thought I’d just find you here and tell you the news in person,” Cersei tossed her hair. “I thought we could spend the weekend creating a vision board. I’ve heard the air is purer up here so you think more clearly. It’ll be fun! We can get up six, do some yoga, have some tea. I’ll work on the guest list while you go to the library and pull the last five years worth of Vogue magazines. We need something that fits their aesthetic if we want to be featured, but of course it has to have the originality and flair that my public has come to expect.”

“Jaime’s coming this weekend,” Brienne said, perhaps a trifle sulkily.

“Well I should hope so! We’ll need someone to run out and get us salads while we’re haggling with the vendors.”

“I only have one bed,” Brienne said.

“Oh you’re sweet to worry. I’ll take the bed, you can take the sofa, and Jaime can sleep on the floor,” Cersei patted her hand.

“You wouldn’t be more comfortable in a hotel?” Brienne tried one last time hopefully.

“Don’t be silly, I’m staying with you,” Cersei beamed at her. “You are my maid of honor.”

“Cersei’s going to ask you to be her maid of honor, and whatever you do, you must say no,” Jaime blurted the moment he saw her at the airport gate.

Brienne bit her lip. Even slightly rumpled looking, he was absolutely dreamy and he had tried to save her from this madness. He was her knight in shining armor, and if she had to manage a thousand crazed Cersei Lannisters, he would be worth it.

“Oh gods, it’s too late,” he groaned when he saw her expression. She nodded glumly.

Jaime kissed her and as she melted into him, feeling his arms around her, she dared to allow herself to hope that things would be alright.

“It’s going to be a disaster,” Jaime said when they broke the kiss.

Or not.

“My sister has many charming qualities, but she is also a micro-managing control freak with delusions of grandeur. I can think of no woman less temperamentally suited to be an easy-going bride.”

“I know.”

“Also she doesn’t have enough friends to fill out her side of the bridal party. She already made Robert cut his in half and she’s still short. I hope you have blackmail material on somebody because that’s absolutely going to be your job.”

“I know.”

“And Robert?! Have we mentioned Robert?! Wench, he’s going to be my brother-in-law! You know how I feel about Robert,” Jaime groaned.

“I know,” Brienne rolled her eyes at that one. She personally thought Robert was sweet. Sort of boisterous and messy and loud and high-energy, but sweet. Like a golden retriever maybe. 

“Don’t roll your eyes! He is the WORST!”

“I thought you thought Ned Stark was the worst,” Brienne laid her head on his shoulder.

“You’re right. Sanctimonious shit. He is the SECOND WORST! Why does everybody like him? Why does everything work out for him? Am I crazy?”

“Yes,” Brienne said soothingly, brushing his hair out of his face. “But I love you anyway.”

Jaime exhaled slowly.

“Wench, I’ve missed you,” he nuzzled her neck. “Why is it that everything feels so much more manageable with you around?”

“Because we’re a team,” Brienne said immediately. “And together, we can handle anything.”

“Even an apocalyptic wedding that will doom us all?”

“It won’t be that bad,” Brienne laughed.

“Perhaps you’re right. We should discuss after we’ve had passionate dorm sex. Things always seem brighter after passionate dorm sex.”

“Oh,” Brienne swallowed. “About that.”

They exited the airport to see Brienne’s car idling in the pick up zone. Cersei pushed her sunglasses down.

“Do hurry up Jaime, we’re losing valuable daylight. Brienne and I will need to sun tan for at least forty-five minutes each day to get a gradual even glow while minimizing skin damage.”

“Oh no,” Jaime froze.

“My skin doesn’t really tan,” Brienne tried to push back her. “Also it’s fifty degrees out.”

“You can still get a suntan in the cold,” Cersei waved away the objection. “We can drink some hot water with lemon, you’re sounding a little strained. I need your voice sounding good for the big speech.”

“Speech?”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll write you a little something. It’s important for all the speeches to run on theme. Jaime, don’t just stand there!”

Brienne glanced back at Jaime who was still standing forlornly in the sliding door, ignoring it as it slowly opened and shut on him.

She doubled back with a sigh.

“Cersei’s taking the bedroom. We can have passionate dorm sex tonight on the couch as soon as she falls asleep,” Brienne promised, linking her arm with his. That at least got him moving. 

Only they couldn’t. Because after an exhausting evening of sun bathing in the freezing cold, shivering over mugs of hot lemon water, applying facial masks and teeth whiteners, and watching a romcom that was nearly ruined by Cersei inexplicably rooting for the villain, Brienne was finally allowed to retire to the sofa where Jaime was already passed out. She had kissed him awake and then giggled as he pulled her closer, sliding his hands up her sides, his eyes glinting dark green in the moonlight. She could feel him under her as he shifted, and she had missed this, missed him, and nothing could ruin this moment.

A blood-curdling scream cut through the night, piercing her very marrow. Okay, well some things could.

Brienne kissed Jaime apologetically and got off of him with a sigh.

“Cersei?” She knocked on the door.

There was another scream. This one sounded angrier. Brienne sighed and pushed her way in.

“That moron! That drunken boorish oaf! That obnoxious belligerent idiotic man child!” Cersei snarled.

Brienne blinked.

“What did Robert do now?”