#also thought of making my own new au but i ain’t creative enough for that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kz-i-co · 2 years ago

Text

Don’t Fall In Love: Part 2

Summary: You are one of the most popular bloggers on your campus, telling enriching stories of your personal heartbreaks anonymously. But your readers are not ready to handle the newest heartbreak of finding out your best friend dating your ex.

Pairing: Lee Haechan (Donghyuk) x f!reader

Genre: college au | angst (eventual fluff x smutt)

Warnings: story may contain strong language, mentions of drugs and alcohol - sexual references - reader discretion advise.

Words: 4.6k

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist | Nct 127 Masterlist | Nct Dream Masterlist

Taglist: @lovingvoidgoatee, @lunaryoongie, @matchahyuck, @yixingtion, @mosviqu, @ohmyhuenings, @nctzennikki09

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #51 Please understand that my short hiatus was necessary as I can firmly say....I'm going through hell. And those of you still accusing me for bullshitting fake news....then shame on you - but also honored you think my creativity is this impressive, thanks I guess. I will gladly get to your questions as my DM box is officially full - also thanks again....I guess - but please let me vent on my own because this is all too real and once again....NOT okay with it. I never seen this coming. It's bad enough I had to confront my oh so famous ex on the matter and thought I was crazy to split up his new found relationship. The jerk didn't take it well since he brought up my relationship with J - his best friend. Oops did I forget to mention that? Call me slut or hypocrite - what ever floats your boat but I as well was under a lack of information and I would take it back if I could. I have more regrets than I would like to admit and people reading who are close to me will probably connect the dots eventually and my identity will soon be blown but as of right now I'm venting and this is the only place I can comfortably do it. I will get to my session on D soon but right now I'm pissed and rather not talk about it. Thanks for being here anyway. Xoxo peace :::

"(Y/N), help me hang this." Minjeong asked letting one side of the banner dangle. It's been a few days since you've found out about Donghyuck and Minjeong and you still couldn't deal with it, but at least you played nice.

"Why are we doing this?" You sounded uninterested.

"Jimin's birthday." She sounded offended.

"I know that.....she said not to make a big deal out of it." You shrugged taping the other side.

"That's the best part." She smiled once again. "You okay? You seem down lately."

"I'm just drowning in school work, exhausted." You lied.

"You need more sleep and to stop partying."

"I've only been to two this week." You made your way to the kitchen and pulled out a can of soda.

"And stripped in front of the whole fraternity." She giggled. "And can't forget trashing your ex's."

"Must we keep talking about this? I was drunk and stupid and I said I was sorry."

"Alright." She began, following you. "Actually....can I ask you for dating advice?" She said, changing the subject.

"Trouble with catfish already?" You tried not to smile.

"It's not that....and stop calling him that." She smiled sarcastically. "How long did you date Jaemin until you guys started.....you know, sleeping together."

You didn't lie that the question alone caused your stomach to sink. "Well, first of all, he was a fuck buddy so the first date technically."

"Well then, your other ex...."

You sighed avoiding her question. "Min, you just started dating this guy and you want him to fuck you already." Your eyebrows furrowed.

You can tell she was uncomfortable. "I'm just getting impatient and I thought guys in college dived right into that stuff."

"I mean you ain't wrong. College guys are horn dogs." You giggled. "But I don't know, maybe he's a gentleman."

You chuckled to yourself because you knew that was the farthest from the truth. Donghyuck was no gentleman, at least not anymore....or maybe this was somehow an act to look innocent to get girl to fall for boy faster - what an evil genius.

"So am I wrong to worry? All we've done is kiss and hold hands. I want more." She sounded defeated and you as her best friend would feel bad and want this douche to pay but this was Donghyuck we're talking about, you didn't want happiness for him. Cruel yes but maybe he deserved it.

"Break up with him." You said nonchalantly.

"Not this again (Y/N). You act like you don't like him but you met him once, can't you try a little harder."

You heard a knock on the door ending your conversation thankfully. "I hope that's not Riri, I told her to distract Jimin, we're not done." She panicked as she opened the door.

"Speak of the devil." She squealed hugging the person on the other side and of course it had to be none other than your ex himself. "You came early to help?"

"Of course." He spoke and you couldn't help but laugh to yourself in the kitchen. His tone sounding unfamiliar.

"(Y/N) be nice." She warned as she passed you in the kitchen. "I have some balloons here that need to be filled up and I still have the punch that needs to be made and oh the snacks."

You and Donghyuck both shook your head at Minjeong's pacing as she needed everything to be perfect.

"I'll stay here with the snacks." You offered, already grabbing the bowls from the cabinets.

"Okay great. I'll blow up balloons." She grabbed the bag. "Oh shit, I left the cake in the car." She panicked and made her way to the door. "Channie, can you make the punch, you do it the best."

"A-huh." He nodded feeling overwhelmed and as soon as she left he sighed.

"Channie." You mocked as soon as he made his way over. "I love you Channie....you're so cute Channie."

"Please shut up." He grabbed the bowl, not caring he basically pushed you out of the way.

"What's wrong, no love in paradise?" You teased.

He just glared at you as you continued your fun. "I'm surprised you haven't told her yet....seems unlike you."

"Like I said, you tend to ruin relationships all on your own." You shrugged pouring the chips in the bowl.

"Yep, that was all me." He said sarcastically.

"I'm surprised you haven't slept with her yet, come on Hyukie, you're better than that.....have you lost your touch?"

"How do you even know what we've done."

"Did you forget Minjeong is my best friend? She tells me things....and she is upset."

"Upset huh?" He turned towards you with a smirk. "She really wants me that bad?.....I was waiting for her to beg.....virgin's especially can't wait long enough."

"You're sick. Maybe she's just desperate."

"You let me know when you hear next door." He remarked as Minjeong opened the door cutting off your conversation.

You crumbled the rest of the chip bag and threw it aggressively in the trash.

"Cakes fine." She smiled and sensed the awkward tension. "How's the snacks coming."

"Everything is dandy." You smiled and Donghyuck nodded and continued his punch.

You grabbed the completed bowls and made your way to the living room to place on the coffee table. You really tried not to show your disturbed emotion as you turned to grab more bowls seeing the two embraced in a sweet kiss and giggling together.

It hurt....it hurt because that was you once.

"Um....can I add liquor to this?" Donghyuck was quick to pull away, wiping off his smile as he saw you grabbing another bowl close by.

"This isn't that kind of party." Minjeong giggled.

"Not a lot, just enough to take off some edge." You knew he met you but you didn't turn around to show you were listening. You were done listening.

"Half a bottle." She said and made her way to the living room blowing up balloons.

Then you finally looked back as he gave you a rueful smile and then suddenly emptying the whole bottle causing you to softly giggle. Not a party if Donghyuck isn't spiking the punch, typical.

....

"Guys, they're gonna be here any minute." Minjeong announced as the talking started to die down.

"Isn't that your ex?" Yetak spoke next to you as Donghyuck was practically hiding in the kitchen, engaged in a conversation with Mark and Renjun. You could tell he was anxious to even be in this situation that you so happened to make worse by lying to everyone.

"Nope, they just look alike." She looked at you puzzled and then back at him. "I'll explain later but for now just pretend you don't know him okay?"

"Shhhh....she's coming." Minjeong had everyone quiet and as as the door opened....

"Surprise!" Everyone cheered as soon as Jimin and Riri walked through the door. You didn't invite a lot of people to your apartment, just some close friends and of course Minjeong allowed Donghyuck to invite some of his friends and bless your soul Jeno and Jaemin decided not to come saving you a night of disaster.

"Oh wow....thank you everyone." She smiled and leaned next to Minjeong. "I said no party."

"It's not a party....it's a gathering." She smiled cutely.

"It's a party." She smiled but you could sense the anxiety in her.

"It's not even big enough to be a party.....I only invited a few people." She remarked. "We have drinks and food....just a hang out - you only turn 23 once."

She nodded looking at you for help. "If you're really concerned Channie made some special punch if you need to relax."

"Or Mark bought some drinks, since we're all adults." He spoke up and Jimin locked eyes with him and immediately looked to you causing you to shake your head.

"Some of us." You smirked trying to get rid of any suspicion.

"Oh Jimin.....I didn't introduce you yet." Minjeong dragged him closer and he couldn't help but fake a smile as Jimin was already set up to cause disaster. "Jimin this is Haechan."

"You're the catfish?" She spoke and you combed through your hair panicked.

"Catfish?" He questioned.

"Don't take it personal Hy-Haechan.....we knew Min met you online and you know it's hard to trust anyone. Most of them lie and cheat and hide who they really are."

He glared towards you but quickly pulled off a fake laugh. "You're right....there's a bunch of crazy people on those sites, lucky Minjeong didn't meet one."

"Nope I didn't." She held his arm leaning closer.

Jimin locked eyes with you again shrewdly. "Nice to meet you."

"Do you mind if I get dressed real quick, Min?" She made a beeline through to her room. "(Y/N), Riri.....help me." She signaled and you were quick to follow.

"Can you be any more suspicious." You shouted in a hushed whisper.

"What the fuck is going on? Why is he here?"

You sighed. "That's Minjeong's new boyfriend."

"Very funny." Riri laughed.

"I'm not lying, it's been him all along -the catfish."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jimin practically yelled.

"Keep your voice down. Can you see why I've been so pissy lately."

"Oh my god, she don't know? You didn't tell her?"

"How am I suppose to tell her. She liked him before I even knew who he really was. I can't do that to her."

"But you're gonna let her do this to you?" Riri spoke up.

"It's not her fault, she never met "my ex" before." You shrugged defeated.

"So what is this? Is this his way of getting back at you." Jimin asked.

"He swears he didn't know she was our friend."

"Bullshit." She shook her head.

"Well, he seemed pretty startled when he first met me."

"And you just played it off like you didn't know him?"

"What was I suppose to do Ri....say hey ummm you know this is my ex that broke my heart into a million pieces."

"Yes."

Jimin looked more angry than you. "I don't know who I should be more pissed at...you or her or him."

"Trust me I'm pissed at myself as it is." You put your hands on your hips, taking a deep breath.

"And he's not in anyway consider breaking it off with her?"

"I tried.....he doesn't care about me anymore."

"You have to tell her." Jimin said with more sympathy.

"Let her be happy with that jerk."

"I don't mean for her, for you. This is not healthy (Y/N)....not after what he put your through - is still putting you through."

"Well, it's too late.....she's already sunk in deep."

"I don't care. She deserves to know, unless you're gonna keep lying to her."

"Besides - if she knew she was doing this to you, she would be upset." Riri spoke up after Jimin.

"Okay fine, but not yet."

"Sooner is better than later, she can't fall farther than she already has."

"I know, I'll handle it. I mean.....if she still wants to date him after then it's whatever."

"Why would you do that when you're still in love with him?"

"I'm not still in love- I'm not." You could tell they didn't believe you. "I'm fine - I promise."

"Guys. Everything alright?" Minjeong opened the door and Jimin quickly changed her shirt, avoiding suspension.

"Everythings great, I love the party."

Minjeong rolled her eyes playfully. "I know I know, I just want your birthday to be special."

"It is, thank you." She gave a genuine smile as you all looted back to the rest of the apartment.

"Drinks you say?" Jimin grabbed you and headed towards the kitchen. "Nice to see you again Hyuck- oops I mean Haechan." She smirked and you couldn't help but giggle as you both grabbed some drinks off the counter.

He gave a look of annoyance. "Hmm, what did she tell you?"

"Oh nothing.....I just think that if neither of you are gonna tell Minjeong than I will." She warned causing you both to look at each other timidly.

"Go ahead, I already told (Y/N) to tell her.......I did nothing wrong here."

"That's priceless." She laughed.

"What did she tell you about us.....I'm dying to know." He leaned on the counter.

"More than enough."

"I bet my life it wasn't the truth." He said causing you to laugh causing the attention of Minjeong from across the room.

"Let's not do this here....it's Minjeongs party after all." You said and Jimin took a sip in agreement.

"Have the punch it's stronger." Donghyuck smirked before walking away.

"Still in love huh?" She asked as she walked away as well. You took a deep breath grabbing a cup of his poisoned punch.

He definitely put more than one bottle in here. And it showed after three cups, but at least you weren't the only one.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #52 I wouldn't say I'm a messy drunk but you may be fooled once you're a witness. I tried to contain my emotions, I tried to contain my actions but when your love life is this much of a mess than wouldn't you agree I deserve it - a little medicine to forget my past and apparently my present. It hurts and booze is all I have. Relax - it doesn't mean I'm turning myself into an alcoholic but every now and then I need something to ease the pain. Let's just hope I don't say anything I regret the next day. :::

"I'm so curious yeah.....sajin sok niga!!!!" You sang along drunkenly with Minjeong. "Georeo nawa wae!"

"Psst.....how long are you going to let this go on?" Mark spoke next to Donghyuck as he watched you and Minjeong sing and Dance to the music.

"You want to turn the music off?" He took a sip of his drink.

"I mean this girlfriend - ex girlfriend thing."

"(Y/N) is gonna tell her anyway, so I'll just wait it out."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know her."

"I need a refill." Minjeong made her way to the kitchen. "I love your punch Channie.....I can't get enough."

"Oh but you will." He pulled her away as she practically collapsed into his arms.

"But it's so good." She whined.

"You can have more tomorrow." He said sweetly as he guided her to her room.

The party was pretty much cleared out by this point. "It's getting late I guess we'll head out." Renjun spoke as he stood up.

"You guys can't go yet. We're not done singing." You slurred your words. "Oof, it's hot." You started taking off your shirt.

"She has a habit of stripping when she's drunk." Jimin laughed and Donghyuck combed his fingers through his hair in annoyance as soon as he stepped out of Minjeong's room.

"I'll put her to bed, you can go." Jimin offered as Mark and Renjun approached the door.

"Thank you for inviting us, happy birthday Jimin." Mark spoke before making an exit.

"We didn't even sing happy birth-" You puked before finishing your sentence.

"You guys go, I'll meet you back." Donghyuck said to Mark and Renjun and he grabbed you gently, guiding you to the bathroom.

He leaned over the tub, turning on the shower to warm. He started unzipping your puke filled jeans helping you out of them as you just stared at him apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"Maybe I should of listened to Minjeong and only put half a bottle." He showed a slight smile.

"I'm sorry for ruining our relationship." He was caught off guard from your statement. You always accused him first for ruining the relationship but now it was the other way around. What changed with you and when did you feel this way?

"What do you mean (Y/N)." He looked at you puzzled.

"I'm sorry I was a horrible girlfriend to make you cheat." You teared and he sighed taking a moment to comprehend your confession.

"You weren't a horrible girlfriend (Y/N)."

"I bet Minjeong is better than me." You looked up at him. "Does she make you happy?"

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay." He turned you around and unclipped your bra and guide you to the shower, closing the curtain as he faced away from you respectfully. Even though he's seen all of you before, he knew it wasn't his right anymore.

Once you were done, he handed you a towel and helped you to your room picking out some simple sweats, getting you ready for bed.

"Drink this whole glass before falling asleep." You nodded taking the water as he headed towards your door.

"Hyuck."

"Yeah?" He turned around.

"Can you stay with me?" You begged softly.

"You know I can't do that." It was his turn to look at you apologetic.

"Oh....yeah." You said quietly. "Well, thank you for taking care of me."

"Sure." He smiled softly. "Goodnight (Y/N)."

"Happy birthday to me." Jimin spoke as she got up from cleaning the puke off the floor.

"Well technically..." He pulled out his phone. "It's 1:47.....it's not your birthday anymore."

"Har har......thanks old friend." She threw the rag at him.

"Ew." He dodged.

"It's your ex's puke." She laughed. "So.....about that."

"I don't want to talk about it." He started towards the door. "She's a mess."

"Well, can you blame her?" She started making the mood more tense.

"I didn't cheat on her Jimin, I don't know what she told you but she caught something and she took it way out of proportion."

"Then why don't you explain that to her."

"I tried, she won't listen to me."

"Well, maybe she's willing to listen now." She crossed her arms.

"It's too late now.....I moved on, now it's her turn." He opened the door. "I really didn't know about Minjeong if she believes that or not but I can't lose sleep over this. I'm sorry."

"It's not just that." Jimin spoke as he took his hand off the door knob, alerting his attention back. "She's not over you, can't you see that?"

He shrugged. "What do you want me to do.....she broke up with me."

"I think the answer is pretty simple." She said softly.

"It's not my fault she didn't tell her, she's the one that lied."

"But it doesn't make it right." He sighed at her answer.

"Look, I don't owe her anything, she decided to push me out. If she chooses to tell her the truth than fine, but for now I'm going to continue on with my life and she needs to do the same."

"Alright....I get it, it's none of my business - I just care about my friends that's all. But she will know eventually and I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Have any of you considered that it's not just (Y/N) that is hurt?" He confessed before walking out the door. "Happy Birthday Jimin."

She softly smiled in return and let out a long groan as soon as she locked the door behind him.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #52 Okay so I admit....I fucked up. Pretending I didn't know my best friends new boyfriend is probably the dumbest decision I have ever made but what can I say - I panicked. I saw him and my mind went blank.....because the truth be told.....I'm not over you D - there I said it. Most of you called it anyway. Why do I even bother hiding anything. Those two damn years we have spent together was the best two damn years of my life - even if I still think it was wasted. D was the one I was so sure I wanted to marry, to eventually have kids with, to grow old with - my everything. But what changed? I know you guys are still dying to know.....but I'm just not ready. I got drunk last night and poured my heart out just to be shot down. Regrets regrets regrets - now he knows how I feel, I showed him weakness and now he's probably gloating in his victory. Probably even telling J of how much of a mess I am at this very moment. I'm in for a treat that's for sure. Well I guess that's all for now. Xoxo peace :::

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He arched his eyebrows in confusion as you were the one knocking on his door.

"I don't want to be rude (Y/N) but I'm leaving soon to meet up with Minjeong."

"I know, it will just be a second." Your tone was serious and he opened his door to let you in. Mark was nowhere to be seen, leaving you and Donghyuck alone for your disliking.

"So what's up?" He sat down on his wheelie chair, gently rocking back and fourth. You couldn't help but admire his comfy state - hair slightly a mess - slight dark circles forming under his eyes from his lack of sleep caused by late night video games and - sweats to top it all off. You missed that.

What were you doing? This is your ex you are thinking about. He wasn't yours anymore - stop staring at him like that. "(Y/N)? Are you still hungover?"

"Um- yes definitely hungover." He smirked at your stumble. "I just wanted you to know that, that wasn't me last night.....I was clearly drunk and I said some thing's I didn't mean and I'm sorry."

"You didn't say anything upsetting." He grew confused.

"Yeah but I still said some things I regret....I don't remember every little piece but I do know you helped me to bed and I just wanted to thank you."

"Sure but for you sake, let's not do it again." He leaned forward resting on his knees. "You made poor Jimin clean up your vomit on her birthday."

"I threw up?"

"All over the place.....even on yourself."

Your eyes grew wide trying to recall the events that happened. He cleaned you up? Does that mean he undressed you?

"I know what you're thinking." He stood up. "I had no intention of seeing you naked so get those dirty thoughts out of your head. I just helped you in the shower."

"How am I suppose to believe you when I was drunk."

His expression turned sour. "You should know me better than that.....and besides it's not like I haven't seen you before."

"But you don't have that right anymore." You snickered. "Who am I kidding, it wouldn't be the first time looking at other women when you're in a relationship."

He sighed clenching his teeth. "This is what I get for helping you?......Why don't you do everyone a favor and don't get wasted anymore because no one is going to help you."

"I didn't ask for you to help me."

"Why are you even here if you were just gonna harass me?"

"I just wanted to tell you to forget last night even happened."

"Forgotten." He held open the door and you walked out, you turned around thinking more words were going to be said but instead - a door slammed in your face.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #53 Transferring was becoming more and more clear as I live day to day. I am just making everything worse.....aren't I. Every time I open my mouth I find myself regretting what comes pouring out - drunk or sober. I don't know what to do by this point. My heart is like a balloon - slowly being deflated. :::

"What's wrong with you?" Jimin said as you burst through the door and collapsed on the couch.

"I hate everything."

"What happened now?"

"I went over to thank Hyuck for helping me last night but it turned into an argument like always."

"You went over to his dorm?" She asked.

"Yeah." You shrugged nonchalantly.

"Minjeong is on her way over there now, what if she saw you?"

"He said he was meeting her - never mind, I don't care.....I didn't see her it's fine."

"If you're gonna hold up this secret of yours, you need to be more careful because what if she thinks you two are hooking up behind her back, that would be worse than lying."

"That wouldn't happen." You shook your head.

"Why because you're gonna tell her the truth?" She forced.

"No because every time we're together we argue. No love connection what's-so-ever." She glared at you. "I'll tell her jeez, no worries I'm just waiting for the right time."

"There's never a good time, that's why you should just get it over with."

"I know." You sighed finally sitting up right, turning on the tv. "I've literally been rehearsing what I'm going to say."

"Just make it short and simple. Haechan is Donghyuck and you're having a hard time accepting them together."

"I'm not having a hard time-"

"Stop bullshitting (Y/N).....you can lie to yourself all you want but you're not fooling the rest of us."

You rolled your eyes but you knew she was right. "I'm just gonna go drown myself in alcohol."

"(Y/N), no more drinking." She laughed.

"Honestly I'm done talking about this right now." You snipped. "I just want to forget about him for one damn second."

"So....we ordering food, then."

"Yes please." You faked whined causing each other to laugh breaking the tension.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #53 Yep.....I should have most definitely kept my mouth shut, because I might have pissed him off worse than I thought. But I should have learned that if you mess with a snake, you're gonna get bit but I flinched and now the venom is traveling down to take me out for good this time. :::

"(Y/N) get dressed." Minjeong burst through the door being dramatically over excited.

"Why?" You groaned not wanting to get up.

"You and I are going on a double date." She said and Jimin sucked in her lips trying to not say anything.

"Huh?" You leaned up.

"Come on.......it will be fun. Dancing and dinner - hot sexy date."

"With who?" You were beyond puzzled.

"Okay so maybe I'm not really sure.....but Haechan says he has this friend that wants to hang out and he's single so...." She shrugged.

Donghyuck selecting a date for you? This can't be good. You pissed him off this morning and now he is in some way, taking revenge. Who could it be? Maybe he payed some desperate nerd to hook you up with. The thought just made your skin crawl. He was definitely up to no good.

"I'm sick."

"(Y/N) please...let's have fun." She pouted.

"Okay but the second I'm uncomfortable, I'm leaving." You'll be surprised if you last the first 5 minutes, to be honest.

.....

"Will you stop pacing, they will be here any minute."

"I thought this place was a lounge not a club."

"It is a lounge, I guess they are just packed tonight." She shrugged.

"I swear if he brings some creep to hit on me-"

"Look they're here." You glanced over seeing Donghyuck entered first and you already hated him for looking the way he did. He may be the type to wear sweats all day if he wanted to but when it came down to business, he knew how to dress nicely and you grew angry from just how attractive he is.

He glanced at you but by the way he eyed you up and down made your question what he was really thinking. He almost seemed speechless. You just hoped he wasn't thinking anything negative.

He did love me once?.....

You tried to shake off the thought of him, looking behind to see who he thought would distract you for the night on this oh so exciting double and you almost thought your eyes deceived you. What an asshole! You knew he was out for revenge and he couldn't sink any lower.

"Hey (Y/N)."

"Hey Jaemin."

>> Next Part

©property.of.kz-i-co

245 notes · View notes

dimonds456 · 4 years ago

Text

Gem Steven’s gem is flipped upside-down. (Theory/Speculation time!)

SPOILERS FOR @spudinacup’s SU AU “Gone Wrong”!

Also WARNING: long post!

So recently, someone pointed out that Steven has a scar on his torso going across his gem’s location, which I found interesting in and of itself. Makes sense, since he wasn’t able to heal it since he DIED and his gem was shoved out of his body before it got the chance to heal him. That slash mark is there now. Wow, neat! Nice detai-

Wait.

Hold on a sec.

Is his gem... flipped upside-down? Well, it’s been like this for a while, maybe it’s just a creative choi-

...oh.

This is VERY intentional.

So I did some digging, and found much more symbolism and possible foreshadowing, and now I want to throw out my theory about Gem Steven here, including his potential arc and character development. I’ll try to keep everything brief while still blowing your minds, and I’ll try to get across what my jumbled mind has come up with.

Spud please notice me.

I will not be uploading photos to go with everything I say (go reread the comic after this and verify for yourself what all I’ve said), but I’ll show visuals when they’re necessary. I do not claim ANY of this art as mine (I wish my art was this good ;u; ), all of it belongs to Spudinacup and their SU AU, which has all kinds of hidden symbolism, foreshadowing, and visual cues we haven’t picked up on yet, as I’ve just learned while researching this theory. This ain’t your run-of-the-mill AU, everything in here is intentional. Scott Spud doesn’t do coincidences. So I’ll point out that stuff in screenshots.

Okay let’s go.

SO! To begin with, let’s talk about why his gem may have flipped, and to realize that, we have to know when. We don’t see the gem much, but we do see it constantly through Chapter 1, where it is normal. The pentagon is pointed upward. However, in Chapter 2, this is where we see it flipped upside down. When did that happen? We didn’t see it. I believe it happened in that first scene in the bathroom, right after we left. The butterflies were swarming angrily, and Steven was very lost in thought.

Notice whenever those butterflies appear. They seem to show up every time he thinks about who he is. Is he still Steven, or is he someone else now? Steven is dead. Everyone is mourning him, trying to heal him, but Gem is still here. So if Steven is dead, but Gem is still alive, that must mean he isn’t Steven then, right? But then that undoes everything we learned in “Change Your Mind.” He IS Steven. He’s always been Steven. But that’s when they were together...

...And so the butterflies swarm.

Notice how the first one shows up when he looks at himself in the mirror. When you look in a mirror, you should see yourself, right? But who IS he? In the show, butterflies represent thoughts and ideas, mostly dark ones, disturbing ones, or ones you don’t want to think about. Well, he already spent WAY too long proving who he was, so now to do it again sucks.

But he isn’t Steven anymore. He’s on the couch being mourned. But he’s already proved he IS Steven before, and it’s this uncertainty that is making his mind swirl. I believe this is why he flipped his gem. Just upside-down, so it’s a small thing no one will notice, while he tries to figure it out. In doing so, he’s separated himself from “Steven”, as they’re not one and the same anymore, and the flipped gem shows this. He’s someone else right now. Maybe. He’s not sure.

So what do we call you for right now? Steven. He already proved he was Steven, so until he’s proved otherwise, Steven it is. Now he just has to figure out what exactly that name means and wether or not he still fits that quota.

Flipped gem/Pink Diamond imagery is EVERYWHERE, mostly hidden in drastic shadows or in panels. It’s things you don’t notice at first, until they’re staring you in the face. See if you can spot them from the 3 screenshots below.

There’s probably more hidden throughout the comic, these are just the ones I’ve found that I feel confident enough to show as hard evidence.

So, what does it all mean? We’ll talk about the screenshots in order, left to right.

First, the Diamond is hidden as the panel in the center. In it, Human Steven lies upside down while the gem-panel is technically upside right. This can be interpreted in a few ways, but what that means to me is that something isn’t right here. If you flip Steven back around so he’s upside right, the gem is now upside down. Notice Gem Steven looking towards his human half on the bottom panel there, clutching his shirt over his gem. It’s a motion we’ve seen Steven do a TON throughout the show, anytime he’s thinking about Rose/Pink, who he is, or complicated gem stuff as a whole. Because early on, his identity was always shrouded in shadow. THAT is Steven, on the couch, without his gem. So for Gem Steven to call himself Steven is inaccurate, but also not at the same time. It’s all swarming in his head, and thus, the gem is flipped.

Next, he’s just broken the rejuvenator. This was probably the hardest to spot of the three, but if you look at the panel where Bismuth asks “feel better?” you will see, in the background, a white line cut through the soft pink hues. Look closer. It’s the outline of the gem, but it’s flipped correctly this time. This is because Bismuth seems to be the only person NOT saying Steven is dead, and treating his gem half one and the same. Is she unnerved? Yeah, but who WOULDN’T be? This is still Steven we’re talking about, as emotionally blocked as he is. He’s aware of why everyone is being weird around him, so to see Bismuth trying her best to treat him with familiarity instead of a completely different, new, dangerous stranger is really calming and helps to calm the storm a bit.

Notice the gem is flipped correctly. This is because he feels like Steven right now. Bismuth has been constant confirmation that he is still Steven, no matter the circumstances. Notice how his eyes dialate back to a larger size. They do that a lot in the comic, articulating his emotions without changing the rest of his face. It’s a clever detail to keep track of. His eyes grow more relaxed, dialating bigger when she pats his shoulder, asking if he feels better after destroying the weapon that killed him. It’s a huge relief for him to hear. So, the gem is correct.

Finally, we see Bismuth telling Greg that his son is dead, which is very contradictory to what Bis was saying earlier (in Steven’s eyes). Where is the gem on that frame? Look at Steven’s shadow. There it is, facets and all. To us, the gem is correct, but think about it this way: if Steven were actually replaced with the gem in that frame, what would it look like, Pink’s or White’s? That’s right. The point is coming from his feet, meaning it would look more like White’s, meaning it is back to being flipped upside down. Again, Bismuth just said Steven is dead, meaning he’s back to questioning his whole entire identity. So it’s back to being flipped upside-down.

It seems that the orientation of the symbolic gems hidden throughout panels show quite clearly where his head is at in terms of who he is. If it’s upside down, he’s separating himself from the cold meatball on the couch, whereas when it’s normal/upside right, he is associating himself WITH the cold meatball on the couch.

Notice he’s been grabbing at his gem a lot recently, too, all things he does while in turmoil over who- or WHAT- he is. He cannot heal right now. He can’t use his powers. Some powers are new and unfamiliar (see the more recent pages where Lapis struck out with water and he blocked with those hexagonal shields/walls). “Steven HEALS people.” He can’t, so who is he?

This is something he’ll need to have an answer to by the time the comic is done, and this is a mission for Gem Steven and Gem Steven alone. If his human half were alive (and content without his gem), he’d probably call himself “Steven” no questions asked, since he GOT his answer already, two years ago. But Gem can’t do that, not when everyone keeps drawing all these lines between the two. He needs to learn what being “Steven” means, and know that he is a part of a greater whole, but on his own, he is STILL Steven. Everyone else needs to realize this, too, and stop separating the two. It’s gonna be rough, since it may feel like replacing what they lost, but is it really? It’s going to be a tough road to trek, and I don’t know what anyone’s answer is gonna be (that’s the big mystery here, after all), but I’m here for it.

Remember, all of this has been speculation on what may happen based on facts and clues Spud has presented us with. I’m not claiming to know how Gem Steven’s arc will end, but I am throwing my hat into the ring on where I THINK it will go. Either way, the foreshadowing, symbolism, and unspoken characterizations here have been excellent, and I’m looking forward to seeing everything play out. Spud, your mind is incredible, and whatever you’ve got planned over there, I’m confident the answer will be satisfactory.

I’ll shut up now. Thank you for reading this huge meta post, and go read Spud’s comic. You can find it at @suaugonewrong or on Spud’s Tumblr, which was linked above. If you think I’m wrong or have a counter argument, bring it. Let’s talk, cause this is genuinely interesting and fun to dissect. I wanna talk about it OwO

Thank you. You may now continue scrolling.

2K notes · View notes

queen-scribbles · 3 years ago

Text

The Long Burning Torch ch 3

Oh, look, another chapter for the 20s AU I started for the @shepherds-of-haven Summer Event, which has taken on a life of its own. In this chapter: A couple new (but familiar!) faces, and the plot thickens.

----

Five minutes into Ashtown proper, Xaeryn was exceedingly grateful for the directions Mr. Syndran had provided. He hadn’t been wrong comparing the place to a warren.

“You look lost, doll.”

Her head snapped up from the paper in her hand to meet the gaze of a lanky man lounging against a wall, a soft cap slouched down over his forehead. His--very familiar--green eyes were much more vivid in person than they had been in her scry.

Xaeryn arched a brow coolly. “And what led you to that conclusion?”

He smirked and pushed away from the wall. “The way you keep checking that paper for one, Sunshine.” His hands slid in his pockets. “Also, we don’t get dames that look like you here all that often. Anything I can help you find?”

“You’re awfully helpful,” Xaeryn said, resisting the urge to run a hand down her outfit.

He doffed his cap and sketched an exaggerated bow, giving her a wink when he righted. “Consider me the Ashtown welcoming committee.”

“And what a charming first impression you make.” Xaeryn regarded him for a moment or two more, then decided to see how things would play out. “I’m trying to find Chase Trinaeste.”

The man’s eyes twinkled, bright as the scarf tossed ‘round his neck. “I think I can help with that. Right this was, Sunshine,” he said blithely, as if he wasn’t the aforementioned Trinaeste himself.

A large part of Mr. Syndran’s adamant belief Thieves guild had been involved in the theft rode on Trinaeste’s presence in her scryed vision. “He trusts his lieutenants with the vast majority of their... jobs,” Mr. Syndran had explained, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste. “His being there shows it was a heist of high importance to their gang, fitting the theft of an artefact.”

Xaeryn had no reason to doubt his logic. But she’d be a fool to show all the cards she held at the outset.

“My name is not ‘sunshine’,” she said briskly instead.

“Well, then, doll, what am I calling ya?” Trinaeste asked, unruffled by her tone.

“Miss Shrike will do for now, I think. And what do I call you?”

“Who says you need to call me anything?” he returned as he led her down several new streets in quick succession.

“It might come in handy if I want to commend your hospitality to Mr. Trinaeste,” she countered, trying her best to memorize their route. Left, left, right...

“I’ll get by, Miss Shrike,” Trinaeste said with a light laugh.

He was very good at dodging, she did have to give him that. “For politeness’ sake, then. Perhaps I’d feel better about following you into the depths of Ashtown if I at least knew your name.”

He laughed again, pausing by a wall decorated with a... creative interpretation of a cat’s head. “Well, then. I have a confession to make, in that case.”

“Oh?” Xaeryn marked the two brunos nearby--one down an alley, the other lounging by a door--despite their affected nonchalance. “And what would that be?”

“Chase Trinaeste at your service.” He skipped the exaggerated bow this time, instead shoving his hands in his pockets, elbows akimbo, and grinning at her cheekily. “Now that you’ve found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

“First thing that comes to mind is ask why we couldn’t have the introductions back where we first spoke?”

“Let’s say I feel safer on home turf, doll. Just in case your reason for wanting me is less fun than I’m hoping.”

She glanced significantly at one of the toughs. “And if this arrangement doesn’t thrill me?”

“You can leave,” Trinaeste said with a shrug. “We ain’t going to stop you.” His grin widened, cat-like. “But you seem the type who doesn’t like leaving empty-handed, Miss Shrike.” He gestured toward the door next to one member of their small audience. “Whatever it is you’re after, I think we’ll be more comfortable in my office, don’t you?”

She doubted he cared between the two locations as strongly as she doubted it was an actual office, but Xaeryn did have to admit some privacy for this conversation would be a good thing. “Do I strike you as the type to just follow strange men into unfamiliar buildings, Mr. Trinaeste?”

He laughed. “A dangerous question, doll. You strike strike me as the type who enjoys a good mystery.”

(Or even a bad one, Xaeryn finished wryly to herself.)

Trinaeste raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “On my honor as head of the guild, I promise you will leave in the same condition and carrying the same things as when you got here, so long as you don’t threaten me or mine.”

“A fair deal,” she said in assent, and nodded toward the door. “After you.”

Red would have a heart attack if he knew what she was doing. She swallowed a laugh at the thought; less than a week reconnected and his reaction was one of the first things to cross her mind. Her gut said it would be a worthwhile risk. While Trinaeste was indisputably a dangerous man, there was a clear sense of ‘only when necessary’ to his skill that gave her confidence she would be fine.

“One more condition,” Trinaeste said as he led the way into the building. “Call me Chase. No idea who ‘Mr. Trinaeste’ is, but he sounds too high-class to be me.”

He’d kowtowed to her chosen address easily enough, and she did want him amenable to talking. She could grin and bear the informality for one conversation. “Very well.”

They didn’t go far from the outer door before Chase swung to the side through another doorway. Xaeryn almost tripped over the abruptness as she followed. There was no desk, or any other typical office furniture save chairs. There were five of those; loosely grouped on one side of the room. Opposite them a stack of shipping crates were shoved against a tapestry-hung wall. It was eclectic and flamboyant and (she’d just bet) full of secrets. A perfect match for the man now flopped in one of the fairly-comfortable looking chairs and grinning at her again.

“So, Miss Shrike, what did you want from me?”

(From the way his eyes twinkled, that phrasing was very much on purpose.)

Xaeryn chose her seat and her reply with equal care; the former so she could see both her host and the door, the latter to convey intent without accusing. Yet. “I’m investigating a theft and have reason to believe you may have seen something helpful.”

Chase laughed. “You think I did it.”

“You do helm the Thieves guild, Chase,” she said lightly, crossing her legs and flicking dust off her hem. So much for trying to be subtle.

“Fair point,” he conceded with another laugh, before leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms with still-twinkling eyes. “So, what is it you think we stole?”

“An artefact.”

She was interrupted before giving a description as Chase’s grin went cat-like gain and the twinkle in his eyes shifted to a hard glitter. “Syndran set you on us, didn’t he? What did he lose?”

“Mr. Syndran didn’t lose anything. Transit is a possibility for when a piece was stolen,” Xaeryn said primly. “And while, yes, he may have pointed me in your direction as an avenue of investigation, I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I followed accusations that lacked supporting evidence.”

“Ah, you’re a private dick,” Chase smirked, eyes once again twinkling in amusement. “Tell you what, Miss Shrike, since you bein’ here is bountiful evidence Riel’s people not only dropped the ball, but bad enough he doesn’t want to involve the cops, I’ll tell you whatever you need to help. That being the best news I’ve had this week and all.”

She arched a brow. “Whatever I need?”

He spread his hands. “I’m an open book, doll.”

“Chase!” a new voice scolded. The owner, a slender brunette, paused in the doorway to scowl along with her critique. “You know better than to offer open season on guild secrets like that!”

“Calm down, Ari.” Chase slouched back, waving one hand in Xaeryn’s direction. “Our guest seems a smart enough dame to not ask for more than she needs.” That glimpse of danger was back under the last word.

“I’m not after your secrets,” Xaeryn promised. “Just trying to find a missing artefact.”

“And what artefact would that be?” Ari asked, still wary, and still poised in the doorway. Xaeryn noted but didn’t comment on the jangling stack of bracelets that sheathed a good three inches of the other woman’s wrist.

“A pendent, this big.” she indicated the size. “Black stone and bronze.”

“Wasn’t us,” Chase said easily.

“You were witnessed along the transport caravan’ route.”

“Oh, we were casing it,” he acknowledged with a wink.

“Chase!”

He just grinned at Ari’s beratement. “We didn’t steal anything, though. Couldn’t get a good shot at what we were supposed to nick.”

“Supposed to?” Xaeryn interjected. “So this is something you were contracted to steal rather than...” She waffled a moment over word choice, “...personal?”

“Yeah. Like I said, though, we didn’t get anything.” Chase shrugged. “Just as well; our butter and egg man never showed his face after.”

“Hm.” Xaeryn made a mental note to look into how popular a target the caravan had become. “Did you notice anyone else who seemed to be casing it? Aside from your people?”

“N-” Chase’s brow furrowed and he stopped mid-negative reply. “There was that one mug Kato saw right before the trucks made the museum lot. Don’t have anything more than ‘foreign-looking’ and green hair, and he didn’t see where he went, just was a little too casual in his loitering, gave Kato an odd impression.”

It wasn’t a lead solid enough for her to really follow, but it did seem confirmation multiple parties were interested in the caravan. “I see. And what was your... client after?”

“That’s not something you need to know,” Ari said firmly.

“Knowing what else was and might yet be targeted will help my investigation, so I would have to disagree,” Xaeryn said just as firmly. “I’m not going to rat you out, in fact I plan to tell Mr. Syndran you were not responsible. But this information could be useful. Please.”

“A necklace. Gold, rubies, opals; sounded worth a pretty lyss,” Chase said, turning to flash a grin at Ari. “She did say please.”

Ari sighed but didn’t protest.

“Alright I’ll be getting out of your hair, then.” Xaeryn stood, smoothing her skirt. “I appreciate your talking to me, It was enlightening.”

She held out a hand to shake, and Chase kissed the back of it instead, shooting her a wink as she rolled her eyes. “Not a problem, Miss Shrike. Good luck catching your bad guys.”

Xaeryn couldn’t help a small chuckle at the comment as she withdrew her hand and headed for the door. She half-expected to be blocked from exiting, but that proved unfounded. She retraced the route to the edge of the Ashtown district, then headed for her office to call Mr. Syndran just as it started to rain.

---

Her call to update Mr. Syndran went about as well as it could; he was disappointed Thieves guild hadn’t panned out as a lead--Xaeryn detected some personal disappointment as well as professional they weren’t responsible. “Do you have anything beyond their word they didn’t do it?”

“No,” Xaeryn said, leaning forward over her desk to skim her notes as they talked. “Well... their word and a gut feeling they were being level.” Which is all I really have that you aren’t responsible. She was polite--and wise--enough to not make the comparison. “They were hardly going to let me search their warehouse.”

“So what’s your next step? There’s not long until the exhibit opens, and I dislike the number of dead ends you’ve encountered.”

“Oh, I’m not happy about them, either, believe me.” Xaeryn pursed her lips and fought to keep a sharp note out of her voice at his implied censure. “Next is talking to the curator at the Hall. They may have seen this green-haired foreigner Thieves guild mentioned, or something else suspicious that didn’t show when I scryed. Either way, I can get more information about the exhibit and the pendent’s owner.”

Mr. Syndran sighed. “I highly doubt this convenient and vague ‘foreigner’ exists as anything other than a red herring to lead you away from the Thieves guild, but your other goals are sound. Let me know what you learn, if anything.”

“Of course.” They exchanged farewells and hung up. Rain still pattered against the window, and a quiet growl from her stomach reminded Xaeryn she was overdue for lunch, so she bumped back calling the Hall in favor of a quick bite to eat.

And it was quick; she loved mysteries but hated being stymied at every turn like this case had done. She wanted a workable lead. While she agreed with Mr. Syndran the ‘foreigner’ was too vague to pursue on his own, green hair was far from common in Haven, even in the Mage community. If someone else made mention or he was spotted later, it wouldn’t be hard to connect the sightings. For now, she’d call the museum, speak to the curator. Hopefully that would get her somewhere.

The secretary who answered her call sounded both bored and frazzled, which Xaeryn found impressive. “Haven Hall of History and Culture, how may I help you?”

“My name’s Xaeryn Shrike, I wanted to speak to the curator about-”

“Ms. Acquell is very busy,” the receptionist cut her off. “We have an exhibit opening in just over a week, she doesn’t have time for meetings with random curiosity seekers or history aficionados right now.”

Xaeryn let a bit of edge color her voice. “I’m a private detective Mr. Syndran hired in regard to the artefact caravan.”

A long pause, the line crackling with silence, then, “Can you be here in half an hour? I’m sure she can clear some space in her schedule, though there may be bit of a wait.”

I thought you might say that. “I can. Thank you.”

“Very well.” The secretary hung up.

Xaeryn arched a brow at the receiver before she placed it back in the cradle. “See you shortly,” she muttered. Wonderful attitude for someone in such a socially involved position. She glanced out the window and was gratified to find the rain slacking off. She’d still drive, of course, but it would be less of a headache.

Xaeryn cleaned up from her lunch, gave her outfit a quick check to ensure it was still presentable after her visit to Ashtown and the Merchants Guild garage, and tucked her notepad back in her handbag before tugging on a hat and heading out the door.

The drive to the museum was uneventful aside from a couple pot holes and a pedestrian chasing his umbrella into the street with nary a regard for traffic. Still, Xaeryn did arrive in one piece. A determined breeze tugged at her as she made her way up the steps, and she almost dropped her handbag in her instinctive grab to hold her hat on.

It’s pinned, you silly goose, she chided herself ruefully, and brushed drizzle off her clothes as she stepped inside. She exchanged a brief conversation--light on pleasantries--with the receptionist,and was waved toward one of the long cultural wings to wait for when Curator Acquell found a moment to speak with her. She perched on a bench that sat between a statue of the first High Augar and a glass case displaying a map of the known world at the time. At this hour and with this weather, there weren’t many other people, and the gallery was mostly quiet.

Ample opportunity for Xaeryn to ruminate on the irony her chosen seat appeared to be smack in the middle of an exhibit on the Castigation, or one of the uprisings that followed. At least, if the painting across from her was anything to go by; a group of determined Norms gripping pistols as they surrounded a cluster of bloodied but unyielding Hunters whose hands glowed with grace as they clung to their weapons...

Xaeryn shook her head and very deliberately focused on reading her notes.

---

It took half an hour--closer to three-quarters--and Xaeryn had switched to roaming the gallery to take in the sights before a short, bespectacled blonde approached.

She hesitated briefly but noticeably before clearing her throat. “Are you... Miss Shrike?”

Xaeryn nodded and held out a hand to shake. “And you would be the curator?”

The blonde bobbed her head as she shook her hand. “Shery Acquell. I’m so very sorry about the wait.” She smoothed a hand down her rumpled brown and pink dress. “We’re terribly busy trying to get the new exhibit together.” She bit her lip. “Or, as together as we can get it, at least.”

“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about,” Xaeryn said. “But I think it’s something better discussed away from potential prying eyes and ears.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Miss Acquell briefly clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip. “This way.” She gestured to a door. “We can speak in the Cultures of Blest wing if you don’t mind dodging crates and museum staff?”

“Not at all,” Xaeryn said as she followed the other woman through the indicated door. Getting to see behind the scenes of a museum exhibit was the opposite of an inconvenience, to her mind.

“It’s not terribly exciting, I’m afraid; lots of boxes and dust and swapping things around until you find the right arrangement. But I think we can find somewhere to talk. My office is a mess right now, or we could just go there.”

“It’s fine,” Xaeryn assured her. “A little dust won’t kill me. I dress practical for that very reason; no telling where an investigation will take me.”

“OH, that’s... smart.” Miss Acquell fiddled with her glasses and inclined her head toward an empty display pedestal. “That’s where the pendent will go, assuming it’s back before the exhibit opens.” Her face went red and she winced apologetically. “N-Not that I doubt your skill as a detective, Miss Shrike, it just seems to have vanished into thin air, and, well....” She half shrugged and let the words trail off.

“I’ve definitely hit enough dead ends for the comparison to be apt,” Xaeryn said, swallowing the spike of defensiveness to keep her tone level as she peeked at the other artefacts in the case. A belt with a snake-head buckle, a silver circlet set with a single moonstone, an ornately carved hair comb, a silver ring that resembled a basilisk eating its own tail. At least one item hummed quietly with magic of some kind, but enchantment and binding weren’t her forte, so Xaeryn couldn’t tell which. “So, to confirm, how long did the shipment sit before you and your staff started opening crates?”

“Oh, an hour?” Miss Acquell bit her lip. “Maybe two, at most? There was a... small kerfuffle in the art wing; some unruly children, and we didn’t get to the crates until that was settled. But there was a watchman outside and one in the museum, neither of them reported seeing anyone.” She played with her necklace. “As well as a Whitestone Couriers representative. Pink-haired young lady, very irate by the time I spoke to her, though that is understandable, with how long we kept her waiting.”

“Did you not have enough staff for someone to take care of the artefacts while others handled the... disturbance?”

“Normally we would have.” Miss Acquell stepped into a small alcove to move their conversation out of the way for the six or so staffers busily yet carefully removing things from crates to arrange in various displays. “But it was a lightly staffed day--Thursdays are usually slow--and I had a couple people who didn’t come in. We weren’t able to find anyone who could cover their shifts, so we were running a bit short.”

With Ms. Aerin keeping an eye on the artefacts once they reached the museum, it was no wonder Mr. Syndran was so convinced a potential theft would have occurred during transit. “What do you know about the pendent, Solimer’s torch? I’ve learn some things of its history, but what of more recent years? The last century or so?”

“A little,” Miss Acquell said, flicking a nervous glance to the side as a pair of workers fumbled the statue they were shifting. “The last century is a bit... muddy for that pendent. It’s changed hands several times, several people have made claims, few have been able to back them up. The current owner, Ms. Aescar, has the strongest claim. She can trace ancestry to the last known owner of the pendent.”

“Prior to the cheiftain of debated identity with whom it was rediscovered?”

She nodded. “Yes. The others who have tried to stake ownership claim ties to the debated chieftain, or the original tribe, or the first to conquer them, but none have ever clearly proven a connection like Ms. Aescar. And if they could, it turns into a debate predicated largely on the intricacies of right of conquest for who has the strongest claim.” She hesitated, wrung her hands. “There are some in the historical community--niche as this piece may be--who... feel it would almost be better if no further claims are validated. I-If someone can contest Ms. Aescar’s ownership, the pendent has to go in a vault until true provenance can be determined. Which means no one can display it....”

“And that process can take a very long time,” Xaeryn finished for her. It was an issue she’d run into a couple times during her years at Solhadur; an artefact she was researching was hard to get clear information about because three people had equally strong claims and it was tied up in the arbitration.

“Yes, it can.” Miss Acquell pursed her lips and looked back at the intended display. “For now, though, Ms. Aescar has a very open policy for lending it out. Far fewer requested protective measures than most. It’s as if...” she paused, brow furrowing for a moment, “as if she doesn’t really care what happens to it.”

Interesting. “Do you have her contact information? I’d like to speak with her if I could,”

“I do.” Miss Acquell nodded vigorously. “It’s in my office, so I’ll need a minute to dig it out.”

“No hurry,” Xaeryn said. “Are those watchmen here today by any chance? Accommodating as your staff has been with my other earlier inquiries, I haven’t gotten to talk to them yet.”

The curator, who had started for a nearby hall, paused and bit her lip again as she thought. “Theo is,” she finally said. “He was watching the outside lot that day. Today I think he’s in the exhibit on Norm innovation? But I can’t remember for sure. The schedule’s also in my office, I can check while I’m getting Ms. Aescar’s information.”

“Alright, I can wait.”

“Feel free to look around.” Miss Acquell waved a hand toward the progressing displays. “Just don’t touch anything? Some things would survive, but others are too fragile.”

“I generally avoid disturbing museum exhibits,” Xaeryn assured her. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

With a final nod and small nervous smile, Miss Acquell scurried off down the hall. From the way she’d talked about her office, Xaeryn gathered this might take more than a few minutes. She wandered through the half-assembled exhibits and display cases, careful to keep enough distance she didn’t disturb the staff or risk damaging anything.

A small smile curved her lips when she caught sight of a necklace--complete with matching cuff bracelets and a diadem--that fit the description of what Chase claimed his guild had been hired to steal. That backed his story up, at least. There was a placard declaring they had belonged to a Queen-Consort from Karzai once upon a time.

Xaeryn was engrossed in reading a Kettish tablet when Miss Acquell returned, and it took a moment to register her presence. In fact, it wasn’t until the curator cleared her throat timidly that Xaeryn’s focus was broken and she swung around.

“Sorry. This sort of thing is a passion of mine,” she explained. “Very easy to slip off to my own little world when I get a chance to indulge.”

“I understand,” Miss Acquell said with a faint smile. “I can be the same, when I get lost in my work. Here’s Ms. Aescar’s information” --she held out a small piece of note paper--”though I should warn you it’s for her estate out near the Jalis desert and she’s apparently not home much? Bit of an adventuress, away for weeks at a time without word of how long she’ll be gone. I’m honestly not sure if we’ve managed to contact her yet to tell her the pendent’s missing.”

“Thanks for the warning, both of them.” Xaeryn slipped the paper in her handbag after checking the legibility. “I’ll keep them in mind.”

“Theo is up in the innovations exhibit, if you want to speak with him.”

“Oh, I very much do. And if something comes up and I need to talk to you again, do you have daily office hours?”

Miss Acquell nodded, then blushed. “Oh, except... except Sunday,” she amended. “I-I have church.”

“Won’t be a problem, so do I.” Normally not a detail Xaeryn shared with strangers, but the woman seemed braced for blowback to the statement.

Her face lit up with the revelation, so it was apparently a good call. “Oh, really? Where do you go?”

“The Whitestone Cathedral,” Xaeryn said. She liked the crowds, the ability to simply sit in the back, worship, and slip out before too many people even noticed she was there and tried to be chummy.

“Oh, that one’s too big for me,” Miss Acquell blurted with a bashful laugh. “I go to the chapel over by the docks.”

“I know it,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She’d had a couple cases over that way. “Thank you very much for all your help, Miss Acquell. This visit has been very informative.”

“I’m glad to have been of help, and you can just call me Shery.” She held out a hand to shake farewell.

“Goodbye, then, Shery. And good luck setting up your exhibit.” Xaeryn shook her hand then headed off following signage toward the exhibit where this guard Theo was posted. She had some rather burning questions to ask him.

---

Her conversation with Theo held mixed success. His memory was fuzzy, which Xaeryn had expected after the time that had passed. He did remember some loiterers, but they were all far enough away from the lot he couldn’t discern features. One or two may have come across as “too casual” with hindsight, but he hadn’t clocked them as suspicious and thus hadn’t paid much mind in the moment. No accounting for street hooligans and how they spent their time, right? One might have had green hair, but they were wearing hats, and “like I said, I wasn’t payin’ much heed, Miss Lady Detective,” so he couldn’t swear by it.

With that tenuous connection possibly made slightly less tenuous, and a much-increased desire to speak with the elusive Ms. Aescar, Xaeryn wandered the museum a bit--might as well; she was here and it would help her think--before heading back out to her car.

“Ladies first,” a dark haired gentleman said, holding the front door open for her and allowing her to precede him down the steps.

Xaeryn nodded and flashed a brief smile of courteous thanks for his chivalry, noting he headed for a gleaming, high-end motorcar, black with red accents, that made hers look dingy. Bet it’s a nightmare to keep that fancy, she thought, paying the man no further mind. She started her car and flicked on the headlights to counter the settling dim of evening as she pulled away.

With her thoughts split between the road and mulling over the case, it took a few turns for her to notice a pair of headlights that appeared to be following the same route she was. That wasn’t terribly unusual, but the fact they were deliberately keeping back was. Tricky as surreptitious glances in a motorcar could be, Xaeryn managed one the next time she had to stop for traffic. Just as her... friend passed under a streetlight.

Black car, with red accents.

Gooseflesh prickled up her arms, and she shifted her planned route home to one with sparse enough traffic covert pursuit would be impossible. Two turns into the new path, her tail must have picked up on her plan and lammed off down a side street. Xaeryn wondered if he thought he was being subtle, and kept a careful eye out the rest of the way back. Despite not seeing any further tails, she remained on guard until she turned the key in her office door, slipped in, and locked it behind her.

“Intriguing development,” she murmured to the empty room as she unpinned her hat. And an interesting end to a very full day. Xaeryn sat wearily at her desk and kicked off her shoes. Even choosing comfort over style, her feet were sore from all the walking. Merchants’ Guild, Ashtown, the Hall... and barely a chance to sit all day. She returned her notepad to the desk drawer and locked it again, but left the stiletto blade in her handbag. She’d likely need it tomorrow anyway. Particularly if it was anywhere near as busy as today.

Busy enough to have missed any telephone calls that came while I was gadding about. Normally while already on a case, that would bother her less, but Red had said he’d call if he learned anything new. She’d hate to be missing information that could help the case, she mused, flicking a glance from the telephone to the clock on her wall. Hopefully this wasn’t too late for her to call him. She dug her notepad back out and flipped through the pages until she reached the section in Red’s sprawling shorthand. There, on the back of a previous page, tucked in the corner like a random doodle, was his office telephone number. Xaeryn smiled at the close resemblance of his eights and zeroes, but knew her own ones and sevens weren’t much better.

After only a brief moment of further hesitation, she pulled the telephone closer and started dialing. It wasn’t that late.

It was answered on the third ring, a slightly breathless, “Hello?”

“Liefred?”

“Xaeryn.” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

“Got it in one, smart man.” But I knew that.

He laughed. “Not that hard; you’re just about the only one who insists on calling me that, even if you don’t need to.” There was a small creak that conjured mental images of him leaning against the desk or slouched in his chair. “Everything alright? Did you need something?”

“Other way ‘round, actually.” Xaeryn fiddled with her notepad. “I’ve had a busy day and it occurred I wasn’t here much if you’d called, so I thought I’d check.”

“There are these people called secretaries, Xaeryn,” Red teased. “You might look into hiring one of them.”

“I know, I know.” She snorted softly. “Especially since most people don’t have your genial reaction to me missing their calls...”

“Most people haven’t known you since you were a gangly fourteen year old trying to cram yourself in the library loft to read in peace, either,” he said warmly. “I know how focused you get. And nothing new, I’m afraid. I got stuck lecturing first-years all day.”

“And you survived,” Xaeryn laughed, curling her toes in and out when they started to cramp.

“Barely,” Red said with a rueful laugh(she’d bet he was running a hand through his hair). “And that despite their best efforts.”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to stick around,” she said, only half-joking.

“Smart woman,” he deadpanned. “But I knew that already.”

Flatterer. It sounded coy and thus stayed in her head, replaced with an equally joking, “I won’t guest lecture, before you ask.”

“Damn,” he said lightly, “At any rate, I’m sorry I don’t have more yet-”

“Don’t apologize,” she cut him off. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Only checking. Just in case. Your responsibilities come first and they kept you busy today. I had plenty of other leads to chase today.”

“Where did they take you?” Red asked. “You mentioned being busy...”

“Merchants’ Guild to start. Then Ashtown-”

“Xaeryn.” His voice was already bristling worry.

“--to talk to Thieves’ guild.”

“Alone?! Ryn-” Red huffed a sigh of exasperated, retroactive concern and she bit back a laugh at how well she’d pegged his reaction. “Do you... take risks like that often?”

“Only when I need to,” she said carefully. Wouldn’t be mentioning the tail on her way home, then. “I know how to handle myself, Liefred. I was polite, we talked, I left. It was fine.”

A long moment of silence. “If you say so.” He didn’t sound completely convinced. (She decided not to tell him her office-apartment sat right by the boundary between Astown and Smoketown) “What else?”

“Just the Hall of History and Culture to speak with the curator.” She shifted in her chair. “That one took a while, but I got some good information to follow up tomorrow.”

“Best of luck with that, and... be careful?”

Xaeryn smiled fondly, unsure whether or not to hope it carried into her voice. “As I can be.” A beat, then she added lightly, “I’d hate to wind up a cautionary tale in one of your lectures, Headmaster.”

“Xaeryn.” She could practically see him trying to glower at her(and failing; Red couldn’t be that mean) through the telephone. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” And I appreciate it. She sobered her tone to match his. “But my line of work comes with risks sometimes.The best I can do is promise not to exacerbate them.”

“I’ll take it,” Red said softly, then was quiet a long moment. “I should let you go; it sounds like you have another busy day tomorrow?”

“I do.” She’d still stay up til midnight talking to him in a heartbeat, but, “and you probably need to recover from this one.”

“Mm. I get to do it again tomorrow, too,” he said glibly.

Xaeryn laughed. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” she said with mock solemnity “Good luck to you, as well, in that case.”

“Thank you, I’ll need it,” Red chuckled softly. “Goodnight, Xaeryn.”

“Goodnight, Liefred.”

She stared at the telephone a long moment after hanging up, smile curling her lips, before pushing out of the chair. After a day like this, she needed dinner, a hot bath, and a good night’s sleep. In that order.

She still double checked the door was locked before turning in.

----

(what you don’t see, bc I stuck with Ryn POV, is Pan was in Red’s office with him when she called. :3 Cue Pan promptly batting his eyelashes, making exaggerated lovestruck faces, and generally being a little shit bc He Knows, while Red’s gesturing for Pan to GET OUT of his office. and trying to get him to listen without actually talking so Ryn doesn’t know someone’s there(he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want her knowing that, he just doesn’t). Pan finally relents but hangs in the hallway til they’re done and comes back in with the biggest shit-eating grin “You’re still stuck on her, aren’t you?” Red, groaning and burying his face in his hands: “Pan, close your head, PLEASE. yes”)

#queens fic #shoh #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #chase trinaeste #shery acquell #tlbt #ryn/red

24 notes · View notes

zoryany · 4 years ago

Note

(Of Loyalty and Royalty) "You know, Captain Solo," the Empress said, delicately putting her wineglass down. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress *had* to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

Royal Imperial Skywalker AU (parts 1-6)

Send me things!!(always accepting, for this or any other verse, just… slow)

It had taken several minutes of insisting, and some creative thinking on his part, but Han had finally gotten Goldenrod out of his and Chewie’s collective hairs, having sent him off on some convoluted mission to find a very vital component for modifying the Falcon. It was weird enough being in the Palace, even with Luke, so being here without him was absolutely surreal. The night before had not been a restful one, that’s for sure.

At least now he had Chewie with him. Something about that big, walking fuzzball made everyone feel more at ease, it seemed – aside from the moments it was clear he was about to lose his temper. Then? It was best to steer clear, unless you wanted to lose an arm. But… even in the early days, Luke seemed to be comforted by his presence.

Han would argue until the day he died that he was not out of his mind for missing the fact that Luke was, indeed, the Imperial Prince, given just how fumbling the kid was right off the bat. Too earnest for his own good and stumbling over his words, you’d think he’d never spoken to another human being before. Which… well, clearly wasn’t the case, but perhaps he just didn’t have as much experience with the sorts of conversations regular folk might have. And for that, he always seemed so nervous when he tried to talk to Han. It was endearing, of course, and played a large part in winning the scoundrel over, but it absolutely screamed “Outer Rim Crop-Duster” without giving a hint at any form of nobility. And yet, when he was around Chewie, he seemed to just… relax. Words flowed much more naturally, whether he addressed the Wookiee or the captain, and a good portion of the tension he carried in his shoulders would just evaporate.

The ease of interaction between him and Luke had grown over the weeks, of course, but Chewie had always been an effective buffer in any situation. He was also effective when it came to negotiations for that very reason, and it was why Han almost wished his first mate had been around for the previous night’s dinner. True, all parties agreed it was for the best that he’d stayed behind, but still; it would have saved Han a lot of discomfort.

“Well, pal,” Han sighed, flopping down on his overly luxurious bed and sprawling out, “how’s it feel, living the high life?”

Perched awkwardly on the foot of the bed, Chewie gave Han a look absolutely brimming with irony. Given his history, as well as that of his people, Chewbacca had never really been in favour of an Imperial Regime in and of itself, but there was a certain level of respect he’d always held for the newfound freedom the Wookiees experienced under the current system. He would speak ill of the life of his people under the Republic, and the galaxy headed under Palpatine, but he carefully maintained an air of neutrality towards the current Royal Family. Through it all, though, Chewie had never sought a life of luxury. He’d always been content to live day to day, repaying the life-debt he was convinced he still owed Han and doing whatever he could to find his place in the galaxy.

Han supposed that over two centuries was plenty of life lived, and sometimes you just had to find your thrills no matter their source.

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Han conceded, sitting back up and running a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I’m feeling all that at home here, either.”

Chewie took a few moments to glance around the room, taking in the décor and the pure extravagance everything seemed to exude, before he finally rumbled out his opinion on the matter.

As he pushed himself off the bed and wandered over to the balcony door, Han shook his head and sighed again. “Yeah, I agree, buddy. It really is… A lot, isn’t it? No wonder the kid felt restless here. I never woulda pinned him to live in a place like this, either.” He spent a brief moment looking out at the sprawling city below him, wondering just how Luke felt every time he took in the same view, before a wry grin spread across his face. “Wanna see a little more of where your new favourite cub grew up?”

Chewie rolled his eyes. On occasion, Han would complain about how much more Chewie liked Luke than him, a joke which seemed to have worn a little thin, but the fuzzball ultimately nodded, and the two breezed out of the room to get a closer look at the wing in which they were to reside for the foreseeable future.

***

“I know, pal.”

It turned out the Imperial Palace – or, at least the sections of it they had proper access to – was not as interesting as they would have liked it to be. They were in the guest wing, of course, and had encountered far too many droids restricting access to other, more interesting sections of the building. The two could make it past if they so chose, but decidedly chose not to, if only to avoid landing on the Empress and her husband’s bad side, and to not to piss off Luke or land him in any more hot water than he might already be in. So instead, they’d settled onto an elevated veranda, sprawling and luxurious and attended by a number of other droids who sought to meet their every need, feeling every bit as though they had landed themselves in a gilded cage of their own.

“I’m not sure what the next move is either.” Chewie draped a warm, hairy arm around his shoulders, and Han was grateful for it. “I can’t live here any more than you can. It just ain’t gonna happen. Luke knows that too.”

He left the next bit unsaid, and as Chewie finished his thought for him, Han found himself wishing he didn’t understand Shyriiwook nearly as well as he did.

For a moment, he tried ignoring his first mate, but another, more insistent rumble, accompanied by a not-quite-painful squeeze to his shoulder had him groaning. “You’re right, of course. As usual. I can’t stay here, and I can’t just drag Luke away from this place. I’m not sure we get to be happy, yanno? In a perfect world, I’d just take the kid with us, travelling the galaxy, adventurin’ from place to place, non-stop.” He paused and allowed the wry smile to twist at his lips. “Pretty sure Luke wouldn’t be strictly opposed to that, either. But…”

Silence rang heavy between them, even with the bustle of the city-planet below them. On another occasion, Chewie might have chimed in with the missing thought, again, but right now, it was clear there was no need. Han wasn’t avoiding it because he didn’t want to acknowledge it; he was avoiding it because it brought a level of pain he never wanted to confront when he was only just getting closer to Luke.

At the end of the day, it was duty that came into play, before anything else.

“Ah! Captain Solo!” Han nearly jumped out of his skin at the crisp tone of the droid as it interrupted his thoughts. “Here you are. And Chewbacca! I nearly thought I had lost you.”

He had to suppress a groan as he forced a grin and faced the gleaming golden droid. “Nope. Still here. Can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“Well, that is indeed excellent,” Threepio continued, completely missing the irony. “I do believe I have found the component you were looking for. I have placed it with your ship until such a time that you may require it.”

“Well,” Han drawled, genuinely surprised the droid had found anything, given his description, “I guess I’ll just have to take a look at it next time I’m fixin’ up the Falcon, and I’ll let ya know how you did, yeah?”

Chewie chuckled softly from behind him, but the droid carried on. “Her Majesty has requested your presence, Captain Solo. I must request that you follow me.” Request was more than likely putting it mildly.

Chewie raised a brow at the droid, rumbling a soft inquiry in Shyriiwook, but Goldenrod seemed unfazed. “I apologize, Mr. Chewbacca. While I recognize your desire to accompany the Captain, the Empress has asked to speak with him alone. However, if you so choose, I may wait with you outside her chamber while they carry out their business.”

The Wookiee was losing patience with the droid almost as quickly as Han was, but Chewie had always been better at maintaining his composure. Despite his own frustrations, he growled an agreement. Both Han and Chewie followed the protocol droid to the hallway leading to the Empress’ chambers, Han being ushered in while Chewie was pointed to a position just to the side of the doorway.

“Mistress Padmé awaits you inside, Captain Solo. I advise you do not keep her waiting.”

“Yeah?” Han felt his lips contort into a wry, contrary sort of smirk. “Well, I’ll make sure I don’t. I know better than to keep a woman like that waiting.”

“Indeed, you do have some wisdom in you after all, Captain Solo.” Threepio’s voice was chipper and polite as ever, but if he didn’t know better, Han would almost think the droid was mocking him.

“Right,” he replied, face darkening slightly, before turning to his friend. “See ya later, Chewie,” he said with a nod. “Try not to tear off Goldenrod’s arms while I’m in there.” He’d lowered his voice, but not enough to go undetected by a droid’s auditory sensors, and Han took more pleasure than he probably should have in the way Threepio seemed to jump at the comment.

Striding forward, the assured steps he took into the chamber worked to conceal the anxiety that truly roiled beneath Han’s composed exterior. Something about the Empress caused his legs to turn liquid and his wits to escape him. Luke was able to disarm him with his charm and catch him off guard enough to force him into idealism; the Empress disarmed him completely with her ability to read right into the core of his being.

Actually, every member of the family seemed to share that ability. His thoughts hadn’t felt private since he’d landed on Coruscant. The Empress could see right through him, the Princess shared her mother’s eerie personal precision, the father had his own brand of intimidation, and Luke…

Luke had always been able to sense Han’s vulnerabilities. Even when it wasn’t obvious that was what he was doing, it was present enough that the kid seemingly maintained a solid connection with him no matter what. Now that Han knew just what Luke’s connections and abilities were, he couldn’t help but feel just a touch more wary of him. He’d never much believed in the Force, nor did he really know what it did, and he didn’t quite trust it.

But… he did trust Luke.

He knew just how gentle the kid could be. Despite the insecurities they both felt, despite knowing what seemed to eat at him the most… Han held faith in Luke. It made him uncertain. Han was unaccustomed to uncertainty like this. But even though he was entirely unsure what the future held, he knew he had faith. A faith he hadn’t come close to holding for years before this, but faith nonetheless. He was not about to abandon that just because he was about to face the Empress, the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and someone who could very well dismiss his existence on a whim.

“Captain.”

The door closed behind him, and Han found himself in another room that seemed overly lavish and luxurious compared to what any being actually needed. He hadn’t really noticed, but they’d moved beyond the guest wing of the Palace. The droid’s escort had been so seamless that he didn’t even realize the route they were taking was unfamiliar and led past paths that had previously been obstructed. He’d been purposely misled to this chamber, and would be escorted back to his own private room so he could not find this one again, he was sure. It instilled a growing sense of unease within him, but Han would not back down. Holding his own against the Empress was all he could do. It even seemed liable to become his greatest achievement ever.

Han was not an Imperial Loyalist. He never had been. He wasn’t a rebel, by any means, just went where the credits were, but most Imperials were fairly stingy with their credits. It was the outlaws who paid the best, and for so long, he’d pledged himself where the fortune laid. But now… well. Was it fortune that drew him to Luke? Or something else? So many could look at his history, look at Luke’s identity, and draw their own conclusions. Han Solo, smuggler, scoundrel, and Imperial Leech.

Luke had never seen that in him, though. And, well, if Luke believed in him…

“I can sense your discomfort.” The Empress’ voice was somehow both cool and warm. She had an inviting air about her, something that begged you to share your every last secret, but she never shed her nobility. Calm, collected, and in control… that was the Empress, and Han wasn’t sure he would ever stand a chance against her in any sort of battle, of the wits or otherwise. And yet, he wasn’t sure that mattered. He would hold his own against her for Luke’s sake. That much felt so certain, no matter what.

“Discomfort, Your Majesty?” Yeah, playing it off seemed like his best bet. What else was he supposed to do? Just admit to the fact that he felt uncomfortable around her? No, that was a weakness he wasn’t about to show off just yet.

It seemed, though, he couldn’t fool her. The Empress wore an expression that seemed far too similar to a predator capturing its prey, though it did not contain the same level of cruelty as one who was about to devour. No, she seemed ready to play with her food before deciding if it should be consumed immediately, or if it was worthy of keeping around for a bit longer.

“You have not shown any signs of comfort since arriving at the Palace, Captain.” Her smile grew, but as it spread, it only became more inscrutable. Han really had no idea whether it carried more welcome or intimidation with it, but he could certainly tell that it carried more. “It is my sincerest hope that you may find some level of ease within our walls. I do not wish you to be on edge for the entire duration of your stay. After all, what kind of hosts would we be if you could find no trust in us whatsoever?”

Han quirked a brow. “I really gotta say, Majesty, it ain’t nothin’ personal. Promise. Your family’s done nothing wrong to me. Got no reason to stand against ya. Plus with Luke around, I’m really not about to do anything stupid like that. But you can’t blame me for being a bit nervous. I ain’t used to dealing with big shots like your family. And I’ve got no interest in kriffin’ things up. Especially not for Luke. Kid’s been through enough. He don’t need me comin’ in to make things even worse. It was his choice to have me here, and if I didn’t think he actually wanted me anywhere near the rest of your family, you better believe I wouldn’t have agreed. Sorry to say it, but my interest in politics is almost negative, so it would take either a huge stack of credits or the word of someone I trust to get me at the Palace at all.”

Did he actually just say all that? In his head it hadn’t sounded that bad. It just sounded like his usual ramblings. But actually saying it out loud…

The Empress clutched a delicate goblet in her gloved hand. It was filled with wine, and she took a long drink out of it before setting it down and smiling at Han. “You know, Captain Solo,” she said as the glass delicately took its place atop a coaster on the end table. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress had to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

“Well, Majesty, can’t say I expected him to.” Han hadn’t noticed, but a droid had placed a full tumbler of Correllian Whisky next to him, and he was quick to take a swig of it before he continued. “Can’t say I expected any of you to like me at all, to be honest. Still not sure if that daughter of yours is all that sold on me, either.”

Bright peals of laughter echoed through the chamber. There was genuine joy and amusement in the Empress’ expression, and it was enough to make her seem purely human. It was likely a side of her that only the closest and most intimate of associates would see from someone so regal. He’d seen the holos. The whole galaxy had. She was gentle yet stoic, kind yet solemn, genuine yet guarded… She was what you would expect a beloved Empress to be. But this – this seemed to be who she really was, and an unexpected warmth bloomed in Han’s chest at experiencing it. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t so doomed here, after all, if he’d won over the most powerful woman in the galaxy.

Maybe he’d have a chance at winning over the old man…

“My dear captain, you do understand my children well, I must say.” The light remained in her eyes, and Han could practically feel the tension in his shoulders unwind – though, that could very well be the whisky’s work. “Winning over Leia is no easy feat, but I think you have a better chance than most. She worries for her brother. And I assure you, it isn’t personal.” Clever woman, using his own defense against him. “You took her brother’s attention and caused him to be away from her. She was worried sick and missed her twin. It is not your fault – my son has always been reckless and acts of his own accord – but she resented you before she even knew who you were. Please be patient. Luke adores you. She will come to accept you no matter what. Even if she does not choose to show it.”

Han finished the last of his whisky, grimacing a bit at the thought of the princess. She resembled her mother a fair bit and had been seen in public with the Empress more often than Luke ever had been. The twins didn’t look all that much alike, really, especially when seen separately. While together, though, the similarities shone through. Similar mannerisms, expressions, body language… and they definitely interacted like siblings. Seeing them in this capacity left no doubt in his mind that the twins were, well, twins. But the princess always seemed far more like The Princess than Luke ever did The Prince.

The Empress took another sip from her goblet and her eyes settled on the dark liquid within. “My son has always been more trusting than his sister. He has a gentle heart. I know the dangers he faces because of it. That gentle heart is far too fragile for his own good, and while I know that Luke is strong… well. We all know that Luke is strong. He is not some delicate, withering flower that will crumble to pieces with a strong gust of wind. He is trusting, though, and will offer up that most vulnerable and breakable part of himself far more readily than any of us would prefer.” She paused, emptying the contents of her glass before setting it down and meeting Han’s eyes with a piercing, imperious gaze.

“The unease my family feels around you isn’t personal, Captain Solo. Neither we nor you have any reason for it to be, correct? But our concern stems largely from Luke himself. We know his nature, and when he left Coruscant for such a prolonged period of time, we all worked ourselves into a frenzy of worry about just what harm he might bring upon himself. Physical danger concerns us, of course, our family has guards for a reason, even given our own martial prowess. But Luke’s emotional state, especially when he’d fled searching for freedom… you understand why we would be concerned, yes?”

Han just nodded, wishing he had another glass of whisky.

“My husband may not be swayed just yet. Your status as a smuggler certainly does not help, either.” She really knew how to reassure him when it came to tall, dark and terrifying… “The best way to win him over, however, is to continue as you are. Make Luke happy. That is all we desire for him, first and foremost, and the finer points of status can be discussed at a later date.”

Han met her gaze with gritted determination and nodded sharply. “I will, Your Majesty. Swear on the Falcon. I will not let the kid down.”

“Good,” she replied, humour in her voice while intensity remained in her gaze. “See that you don’t. Farewell, Captain Solo. Until next time.”

#han solo #chewbacca #padme naberrie #Padmé Naberrie #padme admidala #skysolo #han and chewie #imperial royal skywalker family au #c3po #wow it sure has been a while #since I've posted anything #I've had this sitting for a while #it needed heavy editing #and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it #but hey!#han and padme

42 notes · View notes

thatsbucknasty · 4 years ago

Text

she used to be mine waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

characters:

Y/N Beck as Jenna Hunterson

Bucky Barnes as Dr. Pomatter

Wanda Maximoff as Dawn

Natasha Romanoff as Becky

Sam Wilson as Cal

Steve Rogers as Ogie

Nick Fury as Joe

Quentin Beck as Earl Hunterson

Maria Hill as Nurse Norma

a/n: some of the dialogue I got straight from the play/songs to preserve the witty essence of Waitress, but keep in mind this is an au, so I will change things up regarding the storyline and ending. Enjoy!

p.s. let me know if you wanna be tagged c:

p.s. ii this chapter is merely introductory so we won’t get to meet Bucky just yet but he’s coming soon, I promise!

prologue: what’s inside?

My hands pluck the things I know that I need. Peaches, creme fraiche, brown sugar, butter and of course, flour. Today’s a simple one. What should I call it? “Simplicity is key pie”. Nope. Might get confused with “Love’s the key lime pie”. “Some things never change pie”. Yup. That’s it.

“Y/N! What’s the special pie today?” Sam yells at me like every other morning. I don’t complain, I like that grumpy weirdo though I would never admit that to his face. I tell him the name of my newest recipe.

“I was having a creative block, you see. But then it struck me! Peaches! PEACHES, SAM!!!” I throw my hands in the air.

“No, I get it. Kinda.” He ignores my excitement but I know he actually understands how peaches are nobody’s favorite,but they’re good, they’re simple and they offer everydayness. Sam and I were in High School together and we both wanted to go to culinary school, so I know he gets me. Neither of us got to make it though, somehow we ended up here. Working at Nick’s Pies in the same town we grew up in, a town where nothing ever happens.

Nick is already at his table, that’s odd. He’s never here this early. Maybe he’s been watching spy movies late at night again. That “old fart” (Nat’s words, not mine) is adorable if you ask me, even if he gets on everybody’s nerves. Wanda’s cleaning the counter, menus and sugar dispensers. Thoroughly cleaning them. And Nat’s late. As always.

I like working here. These people are like family to me. The only one I have left. Oh, except for Quentin, my husband. I’ve been thinking about how he used to be, you know, when we first fell in love. Things have changed over the years. But it’s all fine. I have it good. Better than my mom at least. And I’m grateful for Quentin, I really am. I just wish he would be more, I don’t know, empathetic? Anyway. I have a weird feeling today. As if things were about to change. Let’s hope it will be for the better.

chapter 1: the negative

warning: vomit

Peeling peaches isn’t my favorite part of the pie making process, that’s for sure. I’ve always loved the smell of them, so why are they making me sick now?.

“Someone’s a little fussy today”. Nat says after noticing my state of distress. “Do you need any help, sweetie?” She rounds the table and snatches the peeler from me. “Seriously though, you look pale”.

“I’m fine, Nat. Thank you, but I think I just need some air. I’ll go take Nick’s order”. I walk across to old Nick’s table and he puts his paper down.

“Oh hi, I was wondering when somebody would offer me at least a cup of coffee here. It’s hot, isn’t it? My diner. My own diner doesn’t have any decent air conditioning!” Oh, here we go.

“Sorry, Nick. I’ll tell Sam to fix it, I promise. What can I give you?”

“Well, let’s see. I would like an omelette, with tomato on the side and some fruit salad, on a different plate. And some orange juice. But bring me coffee before you bring the orange juice. And a slice of your… “Some things never change pie”, but bring that after I’m done with my omelette”. It is hot here, he was right. “Oh and also… Jesus, are you okay? You look pale”.

“I’m okay, Nick”. Oh god. “I think I just… need to… restroom”. I almost collapse with Wanda on the way to the ladies room and throw my arms around the toilet in the span of ten seconds.

“Y/N! Honey, you okay in there?” I hear Wanda’s voice, or was it Nat’s. Oh here it comes again. “Gosh, I’m washing this stall right after she’s done, we don’t want any patrons catching whatever she’s got”. Wanda. Definitely Wanda.

“Oh scoot! She doesn’t need you being a neat freak right now, Wanda”. Mother Nat scolding the children.

“I’m okay girls, I may have had a bad sandwich from the gas station last night. That’s it” I wash my hands and mouth over the sink while the girls fuss around me. “Really, everything’s… oh shit”... and here it comes again. I don’t even know if I have anything left inside that actually needs to come out.

Wanda rubs my back gently and says “Honey? Um, when was the last time you got your period?” After I’m done emptying my guts I do the math. “Shit. No, this can’t be happening.” I can feel my heart in my throat. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be.

“Y/N, time to pee on a stick!” Nat helps me up and calls Peter, the diner’s delivery guy. “Okay, Parker, time to be the hero. I need you to go to the drug store and buy a pregnancy test. Here’s twenty bucks, keep the change and don’t tell a soul about this or I’ll have your head, ya hear me?”

Two lines. Two pink stupid lines and I’m out of my body. I’m packing my things and going on a plane far from the diner, far from Quentin Beck and his beer smelling, curse yelling, guitar playing ass!

“I thought you don’t sleep with your husband much anymore”. Wanda is brushing my hair with her fingers.

“Stop it, I think she’s in shock”. Nat is washing the test stick. God bless her, she thinks I want to keep it. I shudder, still a little dizzy.

“Shut up, I’m inventing a new pie in my head. Tomorrow’s special. I’ll call it “I don’t want Quentin’s baby pie”. I take my little notebook out of my apron and start writing ingredients down.

“I don’t think we can put that on the menu board, Y/N”.

“You could still leave Quentin, you know? If you can bake 27 different kinds of pies every day, you can do it.”

“You’re funny, Nat. I don’t want a baby right now, but above all, I don’t want a fatherless baby. Girls, I can’t do this on my own. And please don’t tell Sam or Nick yet”. They both grab my arms and Wanda leans on my shoulder.

“Hey, we ain’t saying a word to anyone but we’ve talked about this. Quentin isn’t a good husband, you know that. You think he’ll be a good father?”

“You could come and live with me! It’s a studio but-” I cut Wanda off.

“Okay, girls, enough. Nat, I know he’s difficult sometimes but he’s going through a rough time, he’s in between jobs and I couldn’t do that to him. And Wands, you’re very sweet, but thank you. I’ll figure it out”.

chapter 2: what baking can do

I already have chapters 2-4 written, so expect them soon. Thoughts?

#bucky x reader #doctor!bucky #waitress!reader #waitress au #waitress musical #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #steve rogers #nick fury #quentin beck #Sebastian Stan #fluff #bucky fluff #she used to be mine #chapter 1 #nina writes

178 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Mae Flowers Ch. 7

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Mae works towards growing her powers and Alfie is there to explain every step. They begin learning more about each other and find a connection that neither truly expected.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates.Some domestic fluff, getting to know you stage. Talk of the unknown.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

The sun rose high enough to peek through her curtain. It wakes her by gently kissing her face. Mae greeted the new day with enthusiasm.

Alfie had given her the task of sprouting, growing, and blooming a plant with her powers. She had been a bit cocky, she supposes, after the meditation went so well. But using her own undisciplined powers to do work was entirely different from receiving a gift of knowledge from her light. With Alfie's strong influence, the visions were much stronger than she could’ve formed herself. He’d asked endless questions, just like she would do. But unlike her, he'd had years to find the answers.

She stood in the kitchen, glaring out the bay doors at the sprouted plant on the patio table. She sipped her coffee as the maker gurgled in the background. The house was quiet, save Percy's feet crunching in the litter box.

Alfie had set her a task, and she was days into trying to achieve it. He had vaguely explained that he had some spell work to do that he needed privacy to accomplish. After giggling at the way he pronounced privacy she nodded and he disappeared. He’d still been up every morning, looking a little rough around the edges. She didn’t want to pry but she also thought she might want to know what was going on in her house.

It was almost 10, she’d taken her time and lazed around long enough. She'd showered and eaten while hoping he would appear. But he hadn’t. So her curiosity got the better of her.

She made her way to the wall that held the archway to her sunroom and the door to the guest bedroom. She stood with a furrowed brow and pressed lips. She felt like she might be behaving rudely. She quietly knocks, her hand hovering over the door for some minutes before she talked herself into it. A quiet knock, then a more confident one after no noise from the other side. She pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing, not knowing if she felt relieved or more worried.

“Alfie?” She asked with a crack to her morning voice, not yet warmed up. No response. She tried to focus, head to the door, and see if she could feel anything. She didn’t really know what she was doing though, they hadn’t gotten to that lesson yet.

With no answer she reluctantly reaches for the knob, hand once again waiting to take action. As she clicks it, it sounded like one of the loudest noises she’d ever heard. She makes a space big enough to peep her round face through.

“Alfie?” she spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper into the stillness of the room. She made her way in, turning to see him star fished on the bed. His hair was a mess, hands still covered in what looked like soot, and lips pooched out while he was clearly in a deep sleep.

There were jars sealed with wax all over the dresser, salt around them, and little labels attached with twine to each. She was most curious and began to move towards them before a sudden grunt and sniff catch her attention from the bed. Unknowingly she’d passed the threshold of protection Alfie had cast and it had woken him up from his much-needed rest.

“Mmph Mae? What ya- bloody hell what time is it?” His brow arches high, dad noises followed as he rolled over to reach for his phone. “Oh fuck I’ve slept in.” He mutters and begins the process of moving his tired and half awake limbs to sit up on the bed.

“It’s not a problem, I just didn’t know what you were doing in here. I knocked… by the way. I was worried about you.” She explains hesitantly.

“No need. Just restin' me eyes.”

“Mm hmm.” She hums.

“Don’t appreciate that sarcasm Mae.” He rubs his eyes but she sees the grin behind his soft dark gingery beard.

“I knocked… like I said, twice, and said your name and you just laid there so…”

“You callin' me a liar? Bold of ya.” He kept a deep gruff tone as he yawns and stretches, but she could tell he was joking somehow. She felt comfortable with him in the snippy exchanges.

“Well I ain’t callin' you a truther.” She shrugs and gives a huff of a laugh.

“You’re a funny little flower, Mae.” Her odd response makes him laugh that turns into a cough. They share a pleasant lingering smile before something catches Mae’s attention. A movement under the covers of the bed.

He feels it against his hand and shoots his eyes in the direction Maes wide ones are staring.

“What the-?” He grumbles and jerks back the covers, and much to Maes horror a huge snake is making its way from the bed to the floor and towards the open window. “Fuck me, that wasn’t a dream? Ya sneaky cunt! Get out, ya slag!” He shoves the snake off the bed with a heavy thump while Mae presses herself against the door with too many questions rapid firing in her head. “I was tired from the work and you come all the way out here-?” His hands wave and he stops as if he were interrupted as he pushed the snake out the window. “Work innit?” He snaps and opens the window wider. “Ya ain’t fuckin special love. That’s always been ya problem. If ya never learn you’re gonna be like that forever!” He sticks his face thru the window opening before slamming it shut.

He turned around all huffed and annoyed and now awake.

“Uh… friend of yours?” Mae asks with a broken nervous laugh.

“I’m sorry Mae. She snuck in, I didn’t invite her. She’s never been much for respecting people’s space.”

“Wuh… so it was a friend?” She asks with eyes still looking at the spot where the snake had slithered out even though Alfie is moving around the room now to put the sheets back on the bed in his pajamas, a very rumpled white t-shirt with a v cut and his always present smattering of amulet holding necklaces.

“Well… yes and no. Bit complicated.”

“Like Facebook ‘It’s Complicated or…?”

“Like what?” He stops to plop on the bed and gives her an intimidating stare that suggests she might be behaving like an idiot.

“Y’know the relationship options on Facebook?” She says with an obvious nod. “You do know what Facebook is right?”

“Of course I fuckin know what Facebook is ya cheeky bugger.” he says harshly but huffs a single hard laugh.

She grins at his response and continued on with a lazy lilt to the early afternoon conversation. Her hands moving casually as she talked like the dust that was visible in the sun through the guest, well, Alfie’s room window now. “People can put it’s complicated as a relationship status. Usually, a sign someone’s made some bad decisions at some point.”

“Yeah? Like, fuck a snake?”

She snorts and covers her mouth as she laughs with bright eyes. “I wasn’t gonna say it but-“

“Didn’t have to read ya mind to know that’s what you were thinkin’, mate.” He shakes his head and fussed with his hair for a moment.

“I’ve been told I have a very bad poker face.”

“Terrible.” He says obviously but she felt the warm tone in his voice as he stood and gave her a smile that wasn’t accusing. “But it’s also somethin' you can learn.”

“Another thing to add to the long list of things you’re going to teach me.”

“That it is.” He says with an affirmative nod. “It comes with controlling your emotions. You feel things so strongly because you are unpracticed but we’re workin' in it yeah?” He nods and pats her shoulder.

“We are. I don’t feel as bad as I usually do after a rough day like yesterday.”

“Very good. Since I slept in like a fuckin lazy sod have ya got around to ya studies today?” They both move and carry a conversation into the kitchen as he makes himself some tea.

“Not yet, was being slow because I didn’t want to start until you got up. But then-“ she motions towards the cracked guest room door.

“Ridiculous, innit?” the previous annoyance at his unexpected visitor comes back to show on his face. “Not even my house and she doesn’t know you, yeah? Just invites herself in. Like everything’s bloody normal.”

Mae blinks with curious but very polite eyes as he rests against the counter for a moment, huffing and displacing a fluff of hair hanging onto his forehead. “I’m glad you also don’t think it’s normal. I know things are gonna start changing now, but python booty calls were not something I was prepared to handle.” She pauses her thousand-yard stare shifts to him. Blinking her full lashes over brown, now golden in the noon sun, eyes. “Not to be rude or anything. Just… being honest.” She shrugs, making herself smaller. “Thought it would be best to be… y’know with… all this witchy stuff.”

“First off, not a booty call.” He dismisses with a swipe of an expressive finger. “Secondly, honesty is the best policy. Always…. Unless ya Gotta lie.” He gives a more sly and cheeky smile her way as he takes a sip of tea.

“Are you lying about the snake booty call?”

“Nah, mate.” He gruffs out casually, “Not that I didn’t before she found herself in her current form. A stone-cold bitch of a witch that one. Piss off the wrong witch and ya go 'bout bein a twat and then next thing ya know you’re cursed to take her so-called, and very dramatically said at the time I might add- “true form”. He pauses, his tight but expressive face once again hides behind the tea mug and the fluff of mustache over the rim. “Old flame 'n that. Long, long time ago now.”

“How long is long for you? Since you’re…?”

“I prefer the term immortal to old if that’s what’s ya askin'.”

“I wasn’t but thanks for clarifying.”

“Years before you were even swimmin' in ya gran dads bollocks.”

“That’s the grossest way I’ve ever heard that put. Creative but, still gross.”

“Didn’t mean to be crude at the table, love.” He gives a nod but the polite face has mischievous and playful eyes behind it.

She huffs out a quiet laugh. “Wasn't a complaint.”

“Good to see ya aren’t squeamish. A sense of humor will help ya out in this work. Also nice to know my other half isn’t a stick in the mud.”

“Oh, I’ve been called that before.” She adds quickly and he laughs.

“Eh, don’t seem too bad to me Mae.”

“Well we just started so just give me a bit and I’ll let ya down.”

“Bad attitude like that means one thing.”

“What?”

“You didn’t eat a good breakfast did you?”

“I had-“

“Yeah, those bloody breakfast bar- bullshit things.” He cuts her off. “Ya have to eat real food now, pet. So we’ll be late getting at it today but nothings gonna get accomplished by no human without bein' fueled properly.”

“I don’t usually cook a big breakfast.”

“And ya ain’t gonna start now. I got it.” It’s almost as if her thought of standing to help was nipped from her mind, swearing she might’ve felt a light push to stay in her seat by some invisible force.

"You're not fattening me up to eat me are you? You and that snake?” She asks with a subtle playful smile but accusing eyes.

He lets out a loud sudden amused sound at her suggestion. “Maybe I am. Gonna butter ya up and stuff you in the oven.” He gives her a wink and chuckles to himself at the delightful energy she was putting out today before he turned back to the counter.

She blinks rapidly and finds herself hiding a flush in her cheeks at the seemingly innocent gesture. She retreats back to her normal sitting posture clenching her teeth to fight the smile that would otherwise appear on her face. Being forced to reckon with a handsome man winking at her that she wasn’t repulsed by was something new and she didn’t want to look like a giggling school girl. She was far from being a schoolgirl by being in her thirties but he made that same old energy bubble up inside her.

She clears her throat and tries to gain control of her emotions before they sweep her away. Since he’d been around all sorts of things were becoming quickly overwhelming. Since Alfie's appearance in her life, she’d started having mood swings, vivid intense dreams, and some rather animalistic passing thoughts. Most of them with the focus being on her new roommate. And she wasn’t talking about the unusual amount of reptiles she’d seen the past few days. She could swear the birds chirped louder now. It was as if she was going through some psychic puberty. Every sense and emotion was turned up so drastically it was as if she could feel a static tingling at all times. It didn’t hurt, but it was something she was trying to get a grip on. She was trying to be optimistic but her first round of puberty was something she felt she’d failed miserably at.

Alfie could feel her energy shifting and remained quiet. He had been both confused and impressed with her attempts to control all this new energy herself. He didn’t know why she didn’t ask about it but knew she was a scrappy little thing, forgo the occasional breakdown. Which he thought she had earned.

“MROW?” Percy jolts up from his warm bed in the sunroom, his morning sun spot starting to shift. He trots into the kitchen, the shifting of energy from his master drawing him from the bed.

He was a welcome distraction for her and both the men in the room, both he and Alfie felt ease as soon as Percy was in Mae’s lap and focusing her attention.

“Good little lad you’ve got there,” Alfie says, looking over his shoulder at the cat purring and grooming its owner.

“When he wants to be he’s very sweet.” Mae let’s put a sigh and cuddles him closer, feeling the tension in her body dissipate as she rubbing her face into the fur of the large white fluffy boy with his pink toe beans and nose.

“You know… I have a Percy.”

“You have a cat?”

“No, love. Percy is your familiar. I have one right now as well.”

She blinks in thought for a moment. “My familiar?” She asks, directed at the cat who was staring up at her with bright green eyes.

“A companion. A kindred spirit. He’s a little soul that is meant to help yours.”

She stares into the cat's eyes. “He just showed up one day. Like he already lived here.”

“Because he was called to you. Your power must’ve been blossoming at the time.”

“So you’re my familiar huh? If you’re supposed to help, why do you sleep on my clean laundry?”

Alfie let out an amused chuckle.

“Mrrm.” Percy responds and flicks his tail.

“I’d like to know how sleeping all day is supposed to help me out.” Mae gives him a big smile and scratches his chest. “Sassy little butthead.”

He purrs in response and rubs against her chest.

“Is your familiar a cat?” Mae asks while fussing over the affectionate cat in her arms.

“Oh no. Charles is nothing of the sort. A cat wouldn’t suit me would it?”

“A big fluffy ginger cat might.”

“Offensive language.” Alfie protests and Mae chuckles to herself.

“What is he then?”

“I’ll have you meet him sometime soon. Best to let him introduce himself instead of me.”

“Is he an animal?”

“He is. Familiars tend to be.”

“Can they be other things?”

“Sometimes a human. But rarely. Some have been Fae. Some like to stay in specter form if their counterpart is gifted in communicating with that plane.”

“So like spirit guides?”

“Good comparison, yes.” Alfie nods as he continues moving about the kitchen. “There are many forms any single soul can take, you see..” he began an impromptu lecture which he had done on occasion for the sake of educating her. He kept talking, as she found he had the tendency to do if the mood struck him. For now, he stuck to lessons about her, the baby steps any born and raised witch would know without even realizing. He didn’t want the sweet thing to seem like she lacked common sense when it came time to mingle with others like them. So he tried to begin with what to do to be able to perform at your best. He spoke of fuel and food, energy creation and destruction, and how it works with people like them. Or well, her, he was different from her biologically. But that was a lesson for another day.

—————————-

Alfie checks on Mae once again, a little lump sat in the grass in her back garden with those golden eyes focused on her task. He hadn’t really known how fast or slow the process would go, and the fact that she had made any progress at all made him happy for her. She sat with her hands pushed against her face, elbows on her knees as she sat with crossed legs in the grass in front of the plant. Her button nose was wrinkled, thick dark brows made her look more severe than usual. A stray loose curl would flop in the wind on occasion, but besides that, she was being very still. The fruit-bearing trees planted along the high fence line now had different symbols in new shiny paint. Mae had learned about protection and she was taking it very seriously. The glitter paint, her choice, sparkled in the light along with the various windchimes and suncatchers she had hanging all over the garden. You could always hear at least a small ting of metal against metal outside, it was something Alfie grew accustomed to quickly and found it rather pleasant now. All her new decor made space seem even more full of life with the rapid onset of spring. Not to mention Mae’s growing powers were causing the flora all around her home to begin to flourish early.

Alfie was writing labels, carefully packaging the spells he’d made to send out. He was enjoying a quiet afternoon. The weather was pleasant and the clink of chimes with the lazy breaths of wind outside was a calming melody. He was musing about how nice it was to finally feel some true calm for the first time in his afterlife. This is why the sudden shrill scream of Mae made him almost drop a spell jar in surprise. He would’ve never let his guard down enough to get caught off guard like that before he’d met Mae. He’d never stopped to consider if being with his other soul half might make him soft. But it was swept away from his cares when he saw the bundle of sunshine that was Mae. He could see the joyous yellow rays emanating from her small feminine form. Her hair bouncier and her cheeks flushed as she screamed his name in the middle of jumping up and down with excitement.

“Alfie! LOOK!” She squeals and stomps her feet, her hands with the chipped yellow polish point towards a now fully bloomed plant on the ground.

“WHAY!” He throws his arms up in celebration! “Mozel tov boobah!” He claps and approaches her. Much to his surprise she fillings herself towards him in an impactful hug. As soon as her delightfully soft cheek pressed bare against the fuzzy section of his chest his shirt allowed, their breaths caught in tandem. His hand on the back of her fluffy hair, one arm keeping her steady in her back. There was an ebb and flow that much resembled (to those gifted enough to see such a thing) an aftershock that shot through them on contact and was sent back into the world around them.

It felt almost as if she was in the middle of a giant speaker in the back of some fuck boy's car. Or those old 5ive gum commercials. The second feels drawn out and heavy as that pulse connects them and is loaded into their systems. something neither had felt in such a pure form before they felt a split moment of euphoria. A total lack of worry and anxiety, total zen.

They both exhale with synced breath and everything shifts back to its former self. Mae looks up at Alfie with an expression of what the hell was that and he blinks down at her and tells her that for the first time in a long time. He didn’t exactly have the answer.

Mae licks her lips and looks at his chest, her nose set above puckered lips showing the wheels turning behind her eyes. That were a very vivid -damn near glowing actually- golden. They were large and often wet and they reminded Alfie of a frog on occasion. Especially when she wore her little round glasses. He considers this a compliment as he is quite fond of frogs.

“That was..” she takes a deep breath and clears her throat, “...you know those little sand...zen gardens with the stick and you-?” She draws a swirl on his back where her hands stay.

“Yeah. With the wee Buddha’s?”

“I feel like what one of those is supposed to make you feel.”

“Felt much like I’d gone up and slapped the Buddha and he hit me arse back on my end.”

“Didn’t it feel… good? Though?” Her face shows her uncertainty as it always does.

“Ya bloody right it did.” He lets out a warm laugh that reassures her.

“What is..?” She hugs him again. The same grip as before but it doesn’t happen. She squeezes. Waits. Alfie looks around after her third attempt and considers intervening.

“‘Ere.” Alfie says. Moving her hand to mirror his, slightly outstretched towards each other. “Can you see that?” He asks quietly as if he might scare something away.

“I don’t… I feel something though. I think…”

“Trust your intuition, Mae. It’s where the answers are.”

She follows his advice, taking a deep breath and a slow exhale and clearing her mind and really looking at the space between their hands.

“Do you feel anything?” He asks after a moment, seeing her face shift.

“Yes.” A much more confident response.

“Good girl. What is it?”

“It’s..almost like electricity.”

He keeps quiet as he sees it differently. It fascinates him.

“Like the Ghostbusters ray guns.” She answers seriously then laughs. “Except it isn’t really a color exactly it’s, it’s sort of yellow.”

“I see yellow as well.” He nods.

“Now concentrate. Look at the… rays and what they feel like.”

“Oh! They’re happy.” She answers quickly and cheerfully.

“What happens when I-?” He asks and touches their fingertips together.

She smiles and laughs, “It's like you’re touching the surface of a lake.

“It’s a reflection.” He nods. “Now watch.” He begins to move it away and it’s as if a string is being pulled, the flow is taffy and it becomes thinner the farther away he gets. Her power is less loud, less clear the farther he is.

“It’s reacting to you.”

“It’s us. Welcome to stage one of your awakening. You can now see energy.”

“Did this happen because of the flower?” her head tilts like a curious baby animal.

“Flower?”

“Oh! Shit! I forgot! The flower! Alfie look!” She grabs his wrist and proudly shows off the fully blossomed Lily.

“Brilliant work, love.” He touches it and it’s strong and very alive. “Look at this little lass. Gorgeous.” He pets the plants leaves affectionately. “Lovely innit.” He leans towards Mae. “Takes after her muva.” He teases.

“I don’t see anything around it.” She says waving her hand near it.

“You won’t see everything at once. Be grateful for that because you’d go as mad as the first mantis shrimp.” He snorts at his own joke.

“The what?” She asks and shakes her head. “Alfie stop talking about mudbugs and explain.”

“You’re growing Mae darling! It’s all very good. Don’t worry. If there was cause for worry I would tell you, yeah? You’re learning to wield your powers and activating new ones. Natural innit?”

“So this is just my power growing?” She asks referring to the wobbly bit of energy as she moved closer to his body.

“I believe it is our souls. They want to be close. The closer the more vivid it is, see?” He touches his nose to hers and shows the tiny jolt of electricity that appears where their skin touches.

“It’s like static electricity. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Nah, love they’re happy. They want to be close, little monkeys. They haven’t seen each other for so long. They get a bit excited.” He chuckles and rubs her arms reassuringly. He left a warm and good feeling behind in his wake. “Your powers are growing. You’re doing so well. In fact, I believe you are much deserved a few celebratory festivities, love.” He speaks quietly as he remains close to her.

“Like donuts?” She asks with a perky inflection.

“Could be but I was thinkin' more you should get yourself done up. Celebrate yourself. We can go out and I suppose eat since that seems to be where your mind is.”

“Done up? Like go out and eat together? A date?” There’s a mild flash of horror in her eyes.

“If that term scares you so then no. I am simply your friend-“

“Soul mate” she corrects.

“...soul mate who believes you should do things to celebrate this growth. Hard work earns hard play and you Mae darling have been working your bum off. You deserve it. Stop selling yourself short.”

“You being able to read me is good and all but it also really gets on my nerves. You get too real too fast on me like I’m just supposed to be okay with you plainly saying my obvious shortcomings.”

“It’s called growth. It’s what we’re here for.”

“When am I going to make you start growing?”

“Already have.” He states fast.

“I have?”

“Course! I don’t know if you could tell but I have not historically been known to be a very… coddling man. I have been alone and seen and done violence with my darkness… but being around you, your soul, it makes me feel like I’m young again at times. Your...spunky little personality- which is a great relief I must add- paired with the positive attitude and earnest approach has made me address how I approach things.”

“You like my personality?” her eyes look a bit sad but more intrigued.

“That’s what you took from that?” He chuckles.

“It’s a really nice compliment.” She quickly feels tears burn in her eyes.

“Oh bless your cotton socks.” Alfie laughs and pulls her in for a hug. “You little bugger.” He rubs her back as she gives him a tentative hug back. “You are kind and honest and curious. The world needs more like you. Your emotions are a gift. I do not see them as the burden you do. Most humans go through life feeling so very little. Did you know? It is a blessing to feel so strongly.”

“You’re so nice.” She sniffles and he once again laughs and kisses her head. “C’mon love. Let’s have a cuppa and we’ll get dresed up eh?”

“And then we go get food.” She sniffles.

“Yes, darling Mae then when go get food.” He lets out a deep chesty laugh as he escorts her back towards the house.

@jaegeeeeer @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69 @emerald-bijou @captstefanbrandt @coolgh0st @tinastarkandco @xstylishmileage @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s @peakys-mystic

#Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons au #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fan fiction #alfie solomons fic

14 notes · View notes

clacing · 4 years ago

Note

The eye emoji is for art but I feel it fits for writing too! 👀 🥰 📝 👉

🌈 ✨ 🕵️‍♀️

First of all THAT’S SO MANY THANK YOU!!!!

the 👀 a piece where i tried something new

Gonna say be the thing that buries me here, for a few reasons! First of all, I tend to be very longwinded when writing, and rarely manage to keep myself under 10k, so trying to keep it to 2k for the zine was a really a challenge. I thought I could do it until I realized I’d made up enough lore and worldbuilding to fill an actual novel, and when I realized I’d already wasted more than half of the allotted word count just to set the story up. I had to completely change the way I usually write, and think of it less as a story followed from beginning to end and more as a snapshot of the wider story. Entire scenes I’d written out ended up being scrapped and mentioned as an aside in the final version. POVs had to be swapped and edited accordingly. It was all about figuring out how to fit the most story in as little a word count as I could, and honestly, I loved it! I had never been creatively challenged like that.

What’s more, I had the privilege of collaborating with @astrumumbrae, and that also influenced the story! I’m usually very wishy-washy when it comes to descriptions (I always joke that all my stories take place in a void), but since the piece had to be illustrated, I had to make things clear in the text - and some details we had to figure out together, going over the drawings and deciding what colors would look best on Catra, or what Catra and Adora’s weapons of choice would be. It was just really fun, and I’d never done anything like that, but it definitely improved the quality of my writing and made the whole experience for me!

🥰 a piece i’m really proud of and why

brave face talk so lightly (hide the truth). I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot lately and I kinda wish I could go back to it. Looking back on my fics I do think most of them come off too cheesy or too self-indulgent, but this one I’m honestly fond of. I’m usually also very slow and a fic like that would have taken me at least a month; I wrote it in three days, writing non-stop, and I loved every second of it. Maybe it’s because I had the outline ready for months before I started writing, so the whole sequence of events was always clear to me, but damn, writing had never felt so effortless and so satisfying. I think I’ve managed to capture exactly the feeling I was going on in not-too-many-words and I’m really glad it’s my most popular fic.

📝 a line or paragraph i’m really happy with

UHHHHH SHIT THIS IS HARD. So many. I’m gonna pick a couple that I can think of right now, and that’s only for published WIPs, otherwise we’re going to be here all day:

She looks different almost every time Adora sees her, but her software is set to recognize Catra’s soulprint in all of her incarnations and it’s already downloading everything it has on her, words quickly flashing across Adora’s vision.

Then Catra notices her staring, and Adora waves the words away. She might not remember her, but she already knows everything there is to know about her - like her previous disappointment, Catra is a constant of hers, a wrinkle in her personal timeline. Some of Catra’s code is embedded into Adora’s programming to allow for better soul recognition and improved fighting ability, a vaccine that grows more and more elaborate with every one of their interactions.

Catra smirks at her. Adora fears that, one day, Catra’s coding will override her own, and she’ll be eaten up - corrupted beyond repair.

It’s almost scary, sometimes. Adora feels with Catra the way she thinks old married couples are supposed to feel - not the newness, the freshness of discovery, but the simple, quiet comfort of knowledge already acquired, of bones being able to rest. She wonders if Catra feels the same way about her. She wonders if Catra will get tired of her, at some point, if she’ll want more from her life than Adora is able to give her.

& This is technically cheating because I wrote it in 2019 but..... it was published in 2020 so.... 😶

"Someday you will have to face it, you know. The emptiness."

"I said shut up," Catra snapped. "I'm perfectly safe, respected, with no one to tell me what to do. I have friends, a family, and a kingdom. I don't know what you think I should feel empty about."

"All that power," Double Trouble tut-tutted, almost pitifully, "all that unconditional love, self-love, familial love. And something's still missing, isn't it?"

And when she kept avoiding their gaze, wishing they could stop, just stop for one damn night, they lifted her chin up towards them with a single clawed finger. "Oh, kitten," they mumbled, "now that you finally got what you needed, I was hoping you'd figured out what it was that you wanted."

👉 a WIP i’d like to try and finish next year

Definitely how you besiege me (and feed me). That fic’s just proof of my longwindedness and slowness and I’d like it to stop haunting me 😔 But yeah I said I’d try to put out chapter 5 before the end of the year, and then only the epilogue is left.

I also really hope to finish the “estranged childhood best friends meet again” AU. It’s gonna be three chapters and I’ve had the first one ready for a while but I can’t publish another WIP before I finish HYBM.

🌈 favourite colouring

Mmmh so full disclosure, when it comes to SPOP I kinda just use the same coloring on everything and make a few adjustments ghgfhgh if it ain’t broke don’t fix it

✨ a set where i tried something new & 🕵️‍♀️ a detail i’m really proud of

Conflating the two because they’re about the same gifset. When I got the request for that one I honestly had no idea how to go about it because the quote seemed so metaphorical to me and I couldn’t figure out what scenes to use, but THEN something unlocked in me and I figured out all the metaphors at once. My favorite has to be “Catra stealing the moon for Adora” as in “allowing Glimmer to escape”.

#Anonymous

8 notes · View notes

bangtanfancamp · 5 years ago

Text

✨This or That!✨

Hello loves, I was tagged literal ages ago by @curly-bangtan (who is such a sweet human btw! Thank you for the tag :’) it’s impossibly sweet of you) and am in the backseat while road trippin so I’ve finally got some free time to fill this out! I’m so excited !! I love these things !so without further ado🙃 Lessss gooooo

• slow burn or love at first sight

I guess to clarify, I love an instant spark of attraction and a long treacherous road to resolution- while also being painfully obvious that there is attraction and also while being overtly flirty but no one has the emotional motor skills to just be upfront about it already

•fake dating or secret dating

Oh, 1,000,000% fake dating. It is one of the single greatest regrets of my life that no one has ever asked me to be their fake date or gf. Because I would have been F A N T A S T I C at it. But I guess I’ll never get to live out that pretend to real slowburn in real life after all.... also, secret dating can feel really sucky and isolating so I don’t recommend.

•enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers

Oh god, must I really pick between my children? My whole life it was best friends to lovers. Now that I am currently dating the guy who was my best friend, I really melt over the fiery tension of enemies to lovers ... GOD! it’s so satisfying!!! But I think best friends to lovers still has to squeak by just by an ounce. (I’m a softy at heart, what can I say?)

•oh no! There’s only one bed or long distance with correspondence

Oh far and away, the one bed trope! No contest. I also deeply regret that I haven’t figured out how to make myself attractive enough for someone to try to pull this one over on me. *sigh* well, what can you do? .... also, did a long distance relationship for...6.5 years? And yeah, if you’re a romantic like me- it is dreadfully unfulfilling, let me tell you.

•Hurt/comfort or Amnesia

Mother freaking amnesia A L W A Y S !!! Heck yes! Are there amnesia fics??? 🤭I’ve never found one! But I absolutely love this trope in stories and movies. One of my all time favorites- which AGAIN- has not had the decency to actually come to fulfillment in my real life: Like why has park Jimin never showed up spontaneously at one of my doctors appointments trying to convince me that we’ve been best friends who were secretly in love with other since we were 14 and we finally just got engaged or married a month ago and his life is incomplete without me but he’ll patiently wait for me to love him in return again in my own time but in the meantime, he’ll love me in any and every little way he can until I fall for him again? Huh? Where is it! .... was that too specific😅?

•Fantasy au or modern au

no contest. Give me medieval maidens and dragons any day. I live in modern day. Lemme tell you- she ain’t that special.

•mutual pining or domestic bliss

cue Schmidt from new girl-“I can do this AWL day, son- AWLLL DAY!!” Yessssss!!! Mutual pining is my crack! Give it to me! Always! Gimme it! (Why can’t I have the things that I want!) okay this is just a Schmidt quote/rant post now. ..... I really want to love domestic bliss. And some of the writers who are excellent at it absolutely take my breath away at how beautifully they romanticize the every day. But outside of their writing, I have no scope of how to conjure that wonder up on my own. It is a skill I deeply lack. In real life, I just wind up feeling like the bliss is boring- gimme some pining! Some angst! Some tension!!! Even if I do love me some fluff. Someone once I told me that I was in love with the idea of someone being in love with me. Gotta say, he’s not wrong.

•canon compliant or fix it fic

Honestly, I can’t say I’ve read very many of either. But I do like to see how people flex their creativity.

•alternate universe or future fic

My favorite tv show of all time is Fringe (god bless you, JJ Abrams). Your girl LOVES alternate timelines, multiple universes, flashpoint, paradox, butterfly/ripple effect- all of it!! Dear god, yes! Give it to me! (Also, every time I have a crush or dream that doesn’t work out, I comfort myself with the thought that somewhere out there, there’s an alternate timeline version of me that is happily existing with said boy or flourishing in said dream endeavor. It’s a tremendous source of comfort).

Although, I must say, in the comic realm, alternate universes can sometimes frustrate me- like genuinely, could we not just make the alpha timeline the most incredible one? Instead of the best relationships and plot threads never being actual canon?! Can we get it together??? Or are alternate timelines just the comic industry’s way of writing their own fix it fics, generations after the original protagonist has been painted into a corner. Also, how hard must that be? To write endlessly for the same character for 60+ years? We write one fic or a couple books for the same character... could you IMAGINE having to supply 60 years worth of consistent weekly or monthly context!!! Wild

•one shot or multi chapter

I prefer multi chapter because I prefer getting engrossed in an entire work/world. Usually I am left wanting with a well written one shot, because they’ve made it so real that I can’t stand not having more- so my greedy butt loves the feast of multi chapter so I can have as many delicious moments and details with these characters as possible.

I do however deeply admire the skill and brevity it takes to made a succinct one shot. @underthejoon and @kpopfanfictrash are both brilliant as heck at that. And it is admirable as all get out.

•kid fic or road trip fic

honestly, considering how much I swoon over men who are good with children in real life, and how much I look forward to being both pregnant and a mom one day, I really never get into kid or pregnancy fics. I just don’t? Don’t know why. But a road trip!???? Oh heck yes!!! 👏🏽Where 👏🏽do 👏🏽I 👏🏽sign 👏🏽up!!???👏🏽

•reincarnation or character death

Oh absolutely reincarnation. I love that. I blame sailor moon for that.....But also, I think it’s just very in line with my love of alternate universes and timelines. I love how everything is connected/weaves together and feels predestined in the best way. I’m a complete sucker for it

•arranged marriage or accidental marriage

Like @curly-bangtan I legit had no clue accidental marriage was a thing? Unless you count being drunk at Vegas and waking up with a ring or we’re on some Jacob and Leah/Rachel level ish (which is really and truly the WILDEST™️ story ever ya’ll) ..... but I love a good arranged marriage scenario. The tension/push pull and inevitable relenting is so fun. But will say though, why the heck do women always fight it? Like there’s literally a whole Kim taehyung or Kim Namjoon offering to voluntarily love you and you wanna whine about it???!?! How dare you

•high school romance or Middle Aged romance

This, again, one is a pretty firm, resolute one for me. I’ll take high school. I’ve always felt a little oddly uncomfortable with more mature™️ romance stories? Not sure why. But I think the really beautiful ones always hark back to the beauty of their feelings being refreshing like the innocence of their first love. I know I personally can over glorify youth, but I love coming of age romance (high school, college, twenties) and no one can stop me!!!! I will say though, I have a secret soft spot for the niche of story where people have loved the same person since they were young and the timing just never works out but they finally find each other when they’re older. (One day is like that, and film or movie, it will absolutely rip your heart out-my god, it’s beautiful)

•Time travel or isolated together

These are both freaking AMAZING! But if anything has been established in this post, I think it’s my deep love of alternate timeline/reincarnation/time travel stories. I think they’re all from the same cloth. I adore them (I just haven’t written one because I’m not sure I could do the subtlety of it any justice.) maybe one day. My favorite writers are rumored to have the same Myers’s Briggs type as me so maybe I too could someday have a fraction of their world building skill.

I 100% love both of these so neither is a loser. But give me isolated together AND one bed in the same fic???? Speakers blown

•neighbors or roommates

I have never had the pleasure of having an attractive neighbor, though I often pined for it. (I have a bomb idea for a neighbor Hobi fic though) I did have a cute neighborhood boy who occasionally cut the grass for us in high school. But that doesn’t really count.... anyway! I LOVE the idea of being roommates with an attractive boy!!! Like holy guac, can I please????? Cocktailing this trope makes me swoon harder than none other- best friends to lovers + roommates? Yes. Enemies to lovers + roommates? Holy heck. Soulmate au + roomates???? Hold my sweet tea. MUTUAL PINING AND ROOMATES!!!! Pregnant. Fantasy/magic au+ mutual pining + best friends to lovers + soulmate au + reincarnation + roommate au!?!?!?!! frickin dead in the streets, homie.

I cannot say enough how much I enjoy roomate au. In a serious conversation, I once legitimately told my current boyfriend that the idea of marriage freaks me out- but the idea of being best friend roomates with sexual tension sounds like a dream come true. God help me.

•sci fi or magic au

I love sci fi. Deeply. But I will never love logic more than magic. Ever. (All my infp’s! come join me in the comments. 🙈)

•body swap or gender bend

Body swap has always deeply intrigued me. Especially in film. But I’ve never seen it in a fic. I’ve always wanted somebody to be able to switch into my body to feel physically, mentally and emotionally like i do. The deepest level of empathy & jean grey telepathy if you ask me, even if the trope is generally used for comedy. But the idea of switching into a dudes body and having to deal with their anatomy low key freaks me the eff out. If I got stuck in jungkooks body, I don’t think I’d pee or shower for a week 🙈 sorry everybody. I was really sheltered ok? Please don’t come for me. Lol...... also, have never seen a gender bend fic. Not sure how that would work. Not my favorite idea.

•angst or crack

Angst is my crack.

Honestly though, if it’s well written, it doesn’t feel ‘angsty’- cuz that means whiny or clunky to me. Well written ‘angst’ just feels emotionally compelling, I think. My writing weirdly leans toward what I hope is real angst (I e solid, genuine conflict and not petulance), but when I seek out a read, I look for crack honestly.

• apocalyptic or mundane

I offer you one better- a love story of the beauty of the mundane amidst the apocalyptic.

*mic drop*

Seriously though, the setting provides enough tension usually. Especially if it’s zombie apocalyptic. Just let jungkook’s fingers delicately trace my palm and smile, sweet and lopsided at me in the candle light, while we hide away in our little bomb shelter that I’ve turned into a jungle garden to bring life into this wasteland a la secret life of arrietty. sigh. Maybe I need to write this....

My gosh!!! We made it to the end! That was so much fun! Thank you for tagging me, sweetness!💕✨ 🙂

I’ll add a tag list shortly- @laurelevermore @lamourche @bts-fantasy @urlocalkpoptrash @thedreaming-poet @kimcheeeeeeeeee @hayjeon @outrotearot7 @lorengarcia-yut @bts-luvvv @chicpalestinian @flyingchixenwing @glodenclosetau @space-mermaid-in-love @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife @minminslittlemonster

Copy and paste if you can. Or if you’re dealing with a piece of technological antiquity like me and it won’t let you, then screen record/screenshot it and pop back and forth between the tabs 😅(also Thanks for dealing with the completely unnecessary treatise I added beneath every bullet point. It was just so much for fun to explain WHY I chose each one than to just say yes/no. I’ve said it before, written brevity is just not my strong suit.)

40 notes · View notes

ciarawritesmarvel · 6 years ago

Text

friday breaktime - steve rogers x reader [soulmate!AU]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k (i worked so hard on this my head hurts)

Warnings: Some language, I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself. There isn’t too much. A load of angst, a load of fluff, it’s a rollercoaster and I ain’t sorry

A/N: Welcome to Day Seven of Hello Spring by @ibwhellospring! Additionally this is also my entry to @moonbeambucky‘s 5k challenge - congrats on 5k lovely and a cheers to the next 5k! You deserve it. I ran with this one and I sincerely apologise for the delay on this. I would really appreciate some feedback on it though because I think I like it but I’m not sure. I love you all. Lots.

Prompt: “Are you in?” (i took some creative license with this)

my masterlist is in my bio and tags in a reblog! feedback is more than appreciated!!

---

Friday breaktime was special. Everybody waited for Friday breaktime.

Everybody except you.

Every Friday breaktime, in the middle of the morning, it was time to talk to your soulmate. It wasn’t as if you’d all been told this by the teachers, or that it was compulsory, or that it happened in all schools across the nation. It seemed to just be an unspoken rule in your own school, passed down to the new years as they came through. You sat in different corners of the playground, some people liked to find their own space, some people sat in circles and giggled with each other as they talked, some people on the tarmac of the playground, on the grass of the field, on the wood of the benches.

By this point, you’d had seven years to get used to these Fridays and somehow, experience did not make them easier to bear.

“You wanna sit together? I spoke to Parker last night anyway, so we can chat now instead if you want?” Tanya offered and you smiled gratefully at her, knowing that she really would forgo the excitement of chatting to Parker just to make your own Friday better. She was the only one at school that knew of your ‘predicament’ and she had never been anything but amazing about it. You couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.

“No, Tan, it’s fine, go talk to him,” you insisted and when Tanya only raised an eyebrow at you, you shook your head and pushed her away from you, “Go!”

She thanked you with a quick hug and quickly ran off to a bench and sat down and you saw her giggle. There he was. He was always there when she needed him.

You had to breathe steadily through your nose to keep the tears at bay.

You went found a free bench on the grass and sat down, swinging your legs up beside you as you leaned back against it. Silently, you willed yourself not to try again, not to disappoint yourself, not to ruin your day.

But you couldn’t help yourself.

You tapped into your soul, as you’d been taught so many years ago. Nothing. Just as always. And after so many trips to the doctor and to the psych and to the hypnotherapist, there was only one explanation.

You didn’t have a soulmate.

But instead of sharing that with people and seeing your friends’ looks of pity, risking the sad smiles of your teachers and the taunting looks of the resident bullies, you plastered a smile on your face and laughed at 30 second intervals, acting as if you were having the conversation in your head that you’d always wanted to have.

---

Tanya had found Parker. Properly, now.

You’d all ended up at the same high school, despite the two of them saying they wouldn’t force a meeting, that they’d let fate decide and wait as long as they had to. Turns out they didn’t have to wait all that long.

And you were so happy for them. Really. Parker was wonderful; cute and a little awkward but overwhelmingly endearing and you couldn’t meet a better match. But sitting with them every lunch time stung more than you’d ever let on.

“Oh my god, Parker!” you heard Tanya exclaim from the other end of the table while you were lost in your thoughts and you snapped back to reality, your head turning to see what the commotion was all about.

You saw the box of donuts on the table, the fact that they spelt out the word PROM with a silly little question mark éclair on the end and you felt the churning in the pit of your stomach instantly. It made you feel horrible.

“Will you go to prom with me?” Parker asked, a hand rubbing the back of his neck but she practically pounced on him, kissing all over his face, saying yes over and over. Your friends clapped and cheered. You clapped. Mind numb.

Maybe you weren’t as happy for them as you thought.

Tanya came up to you, giggling and showing you the donuts and you laughed and smiled and nodded along in the right places, making sure not to speak in case you betrayed any of your unhappiness. You knew your friend wouldn’t hesitate to bring her mood right down and look after you if you showed the slightest hint of discomfort, as would Parker who was now the second person at school who knew about your...condition. You hated that word. But apparently that’s what it was.

Lack of soulmate. ‘Disanam’. It even had a fancy name. A fancy name that was firmly branded on every medical record, every school file, every document that detailed your existence. A fancy name that you spat out every time you had to say it at annual appointments.

There was no one to blame. To direct your anger towards. Not your parents, nor your friends, nor your non-existent soulmate.

At least there was no Friday break time at high school, you reasoned, as you sat at the table, surrounded by your friends and feeling utterly and completely alone.

---

You pushed open the door to the bar gingerly, making your way inside with darting eyes and an already elevated heart rate. You were so out of your comfort zone that you weren’t sure of the way back to it anymore. Nearly all of your friends had suggested you come here, very lovingly, and you’d refused multiple times, on the grounds that you were over love and that you were focusing on your career. To which they had, rightly, called bullshit. So here you were. In a bar for people with no soulmates.

It was aptly and rather bluntly named Disanam, and whether that was irony or just good branding, you didn’t know.

A few eyes turned your way as you pushed through towards the bar, surprised at how busy it was. Having been the only one at your school growing up with this problem, you’d always vaguely thought that you were the only person in the world without their own person. You knew, logically, that you weren’t but you felt like you were and that had been enough.

Although, you thought, if you hadn’t told practically anyone about what made you special in the worst way, you wondered if there were others who kept it to themselves too.

“Haven’t seen you in here before,” the bartender said as you sat yourself in a free bar stool and you half-smiled at him.

“Haven’t been in here before,” you countered, “I’ll have a beer please.”

“Coming right up, darling,” he said and you just about stopped yourself from grimacing at the nickname. He turned to get your drink and then turned back, leaning in a little too close to whisper, “I’m pretty sure you’ll get snapped up in here.”

He turned away and you tried to calm yourself down. This was all a lot to take it. Too much to take in. You’d never been hit on before. Or called darling. Everyone you’d ever known had soulmates. It was so strange interacting with people who didn’t have that constant everlasting commitment.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” a man behind you said and you turned on your stool to face him, at least to half face him, your legs perpendicular to his body.

“He already tried that one,” you said with a little chuckle, indicating towards the bartender and the man laughed too, hitting his head with his palm lightly.

“Shoulda known,” he said with a kind smile, holding out his hand for you to shake, “I’m Brock. Nice to meet you.”

You shook it tentatively, and not with the usual firm grip that you sported at work.

“You too,” you said truthfully and in what must have been a panic you added, “So how long have you known that you didn’t have a soulmate?”

His face fell. Hardened. You cursed yourself, closing your eyes as you processed exactly what you’d just said.

Idiot.

“We don’t talk like that here,” he said suddenly, his voice different, angry almost and in the back of your mind you thought that was slightly unfair, “In here, we have soulmates, we just can’t talk to them in our heads. This is where people like us find our soulmates.”

You narrowed your eyes, brow furrowed.

“But that’s not true. We don’t have soulmates, that’s the whole-”

You trailed off as his face slowly morphed into a sinister scowl and he reached over you to take the beer that you’d paid for as you shrank back away from him. He opened it and took a long swig, wiping his mouth with his sleeve when he’d finished.

“Bartender was wrong,” he said, a cutting edge overtaking what had been such an open and friendly face and you could help but feel overwhelmingly guilty, “You won’t get snapped up in here.”

He sauntered off without another word, without a second glance. You looked around you, eyes wide and shocked. There were a few people staring, some with pitying glances and some that also looked offended at what you’d said.

“Word of advice,” the bartender’s voice rang clear behind you and you grimaced, already annoyed by his patronising tone, “Maybe don’t mention the lack of soulmate thing here?”

You whirled to face him.

“Word of advice to you, darling,” you said and he reared back away from the bar at the venom in your words as you spat them out, “Close down this bar. The only thing you’re serving is delusion.”

With that, you hopped off the stool and walked out of the bar without turning back, only just managing not to cry until you were in the street walking home. There were only a few tears to be shed as you hurriedly speed walked home and you wiped them away as soon as they came, trying to hold your head as high as you could.

Maybe you really were over love.

---

You were walking along the street, heels clacking on the pavement at a steady rhythm, skirt rubbing against your knees a little uncomfortably, folders in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the other. You felt good. Confident, even. You hadn’t felt confident in...well you couldn’t quite remember the last time.

You were three months in to a total shutdown of the soul section of your brain. You hadn’t tapped into it. Hadn’t even tried to, wanted to. After all this time, you had sought the help you needed to be happy on your own and it had worked.

You didn’t have a soulmate. And that was okay. More than okay.

But life has a funny way of working things out. And it was as you were smiling to yourself about this fact that it happened. That everything changed.

All at once. A torrent of thoughts slamming into your brain with the weight of ten thousand buses. Your eyes were blinded with the brightest light you had ever seen, your body crumpling with pain that you didn’t know was possible.

You screamed. People around you covered their ears. Jumped out of their skin.

But before you could notice any of that, you were already on the ground, passed out from the sheer force of whatever the hell had just happened.

---

Your head killed. The kind of throbbing headache that felt like it would last a lifetime, that it would never go away. You grimaced as you opened your eyes, slowly, blinking like a newborn kitten, face scrunched up. When you could finally open your eyes properly and see that you were in a hospital bed, a thousand (or maybe three) tubes poking out of you, you sat up suddenly and clutched your head at the motion.

There was a doctor by your bedside and you could hear the words they were saying but your brain wasn’t processing them. You read the doctor’s lips. What they were saying didn’t match up with the voice you could hear. A voice you could hear in your head.

“How did this happen? Where am I? What’s going on? Who? What? Where?”

There were desperate questions ricocheting inside your mind and it didn’t take you long to realise that you must have tapped into your soul whilst you were asleep.

But there was someone there.

“He-hello?”

You attempted to say, not really knowing how to talk to someone in your soul seeing as you’d never had anyone there before. Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before and the doctor was yelling something about ‘cardiac’ but you weren’t listening. You let your eyes fall closed. Focused.

“Hello?”

“Is- Is someone there?”

A reply. Your heart leaped. You choked on your own breath. And then suddenly the doctor was injecting you with something and you were desperately clawing at him to get the hell away from you and the darkness took over once again.

---

“You there?”

You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. The fact that a soulmate had been thrust upon you. It was like a death, as your fancy diagnosis was suddenly ripped out from under your feet. The fancy diagnosis that you had always hated but that had always been your safe cocoon to retreat into whenever you desired.

Just like a death, you’d gone through the five stages of grief.

Denial. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You shut your soulmate out for a week, trying not to his voice in your head whenever he checked on you. He was ecstatic at your presence. But just for a while, you refused to handle it.

Anger. When you finally spoke to him, it was all questioning, accusatory and furious. You asked him where he’d been and screamed at him in your head when he wouldn’t answer you. Told him that it was too late for you to suddenly have a soulmate, after a lifetime of dealing with the fact that you didn’t have one.

Bargaining. Asked him to move on. Told him it wasn’t going to happen. That you didn’t want a soulmate, that you never did. That phase only lasted for one day before-

Depression. Deep and never-ending. Overwhelming and overpowering. You talked to him seldom and when you did it was morose ramblings on the time you’d missed out on, the years wasted mourning something you thought you’d never had. He caught some of your sadness, held it himself, talked about how much he felt like he’d missed out on, reminded you that he hadn’t had a soulmate during his childhood either, that he knew how you felt exactly. You had some arguments here and there, him accusing you of being self absorbed and you accusing him of not being there for you when you needed him more than anything. But somehow, along the way, you helped each other through it in a strange way.

Acceptance. Your current state. Only a few weeks in to this one. But hearing his voice pop up at random moments during your day now brought a smile to your face that nobody throughout your life so far had done.

“I’m here. What’s up?” you replied readily, continuing your typing on your computer.

“I just-”

He trailed off, not knowing how to continue and you began to get worried. This was too good to be true, you knew it, you always had and now he was going to leave again and you’d be left all on your-

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

...That wasn’t what you’d been expecting.

“Thank you? For what?”

A pause. You could almost hear him taking a heavy breath. The pause became too long and you filled the silence in your head, because already silence in your head had become unbearable.

“For what, Steve?”

“For giving me something to fight for.”

The words floored you and you stopped your typing instantly. You leaned back into your chair. Tried to keep yourself under control, calm and collected.

“Fight for?”

Another pause and you felt your annoyance begin to rise until-

“...Metaphorically, of course.”

You breathed a sigh of pure relief. And then began to wonder just how important Steve had already become to you. You knew he would be, of course, he was your soulmate, but to suddenly understand that instant connection that everybody raved about, that attraction, that love…

Love?

You’d never thought that before. You hoped he couldn’t hear you.

“Well, you’re welcome, I suppose. I should be the one thanking you. You saved me from a life I didn’t want to live,” you replied, a little timidly, but the words came through nonetheless.

It was honest. More honest than you were with anyone else really. Even Tanya.

He felt the honesty in your words. And unbeknownst to you, it made him fall even more in love with you, because he was already fully aware of the fact that he loved you more than anything, more than anyone. He was all in.

“You’re welcome too, Y/N.”

---

“Y/N are you there? Talk to me, Y/N. Tell me that, for some miraculous reason, you’re not in New York.”

You heard his voice almost exactly the same time as something ripped a hole in the sky above Stark Tower and you dropped the cup you’d been holding with a splash onto the pavement. You felt the boiling hot contents seeping into the skin of your feet and calves through your tights and you pressed your lips together tightly, eyes focused on the scene before you.

And then, things started flying out of it. One of them fired something that looked like light and you heard a crash and suddenly a building was on fire.

Your scalded feet were long forgotten.

You ran, as fast as you could away from the Tower, hearing the whizzing sound of whatever those things were over your head. A burst of light send a car into flames next to you and you yelped as you dived the other way, breathing heavily as your back hit the wall of shop front, eyes trained on the fire right there, feeling the heat radiating from it.

Your mind tuned back into Steve who now sounded as if he were shouting right into your ear. You cursed yourself for not replying to him sooner.

“I’m okay, God, I’m sorry, Steve, I’m okay.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, you had me worried there.”

He sounded breathless and you didn’t know that soul voices could sound breathless.

“Are you okay? Are you seeing this?”

“I am. Where are you, let me come and find you.”

“We can’t, Steve,” you said forcefully, knowing that he was just worried and didn’t know what he was saying, “You know it’s bad luck.”

He sighed. Deeply.

“I know. But I-” he was gone, fully gone for a good few seconds and you held your breath, still pressed against a wall and wincing every time an explosion set off nearby, “I can’t talk now. I’m sorry. Get somewhere safe.”

“What do you mean you can’t talk now? Are you safe?”

A pause. Over the past year you’d come to hate it when Steve paused during your conversations.

“I love you.”

Your heart dropped. He’d never said that before. You’d never said that before. Why was he saying it now.

“Steve? What’s happening?”

No reply. A loud bang. You had to run.

“I love you too.”

---

You hadn’t heard from Steve in four years.

Four. Years.

After a year of bliss with a soulmate in your head and a lightness in your heart, you’d finally gotten over the feeling that it was all going to slip through your fingers at any moment. But that’s exactly what had happened. You’d lost your soulmate.

You didn’t know where to direct your anger. It was like your childhood all over again. Whether to be angry at Steve; whether he had simply abandoned you, if he could hear you every time you tried to talk to him and just decided to ignore you. Since the last words he said to you were that he loved you, somehow you doubted that could possibly be the case. But it was possible.

Or maybe your anger needed to be directed at someone else. He’d disappeared from your mind, from your soul, during the Battle of New York. There were plenty of ‘Steve’s on the list of the dead. Not that you had the mental capacity to consider that. You couldn’t.

Because you’d loved him too. Truly. Completely. With your entire soul.

So now you were taking matters into your own hands. This fucking sucked. And you wouldn’t stand it anymore. Bad luck be damned.

You’d been practicing the illegal art of soul reading for months and you were finally ready to carry out what you’d needed to do for years. You were going to delve into Steve’s thoughts, the ones that he didn’t offer up to you. If you found nothing then...well you’d know his fate. And if you heard something then...well then you just might be able to find him.

You cleared your own thoughts. Sat down on your mat, crossed your legs one over the other. Closed your eyes. Furrowed your brow. Concentrated. Concentrated. Concentrated. There was a dull pain in the very middle of your forehead but you ignored it and pressed on.

You began to hear the faint remnants of another’s thoughts. It was all you could do not to lose it right then and there. But you couldn’t. You had to press on. On and on.

...if we stay here then they’ll find us, no problem. But if we move, then we’ll have to stick to the shadows with every trick in the book. Every trick not in the book. It still won’t work. Someone will find us. But for now we just have to…

It was Steve. Unmistakably. There were tears rolling down your cheeks that you had to ignore.

...Wakanda is no place for me to stay…

Your eyes snapped open and you gasped for breath, clutching at your throat.

It took you no longer than 48 hours to set foot in Wakanda.

You’d had to threaten some shady looking people, with a kitchen knife that you’d have no idea how to really use and a strength that seemed to solely come from the need to find your soulmate. A strength you didn’t realise you even had. Eventually a man with a funny sounding name had offered to take you there, sneak you in, for a price. A price you had paid. All of your life’s savings.

All you wanted was Steve. That feeling hadn’t dwindled over four years. It had only grown stronger.

Along with the feeling of wanting to punch him in the face as soon as you found him.

As you were dropped at the outskirts of the city and you gazed on at the gorgeous landscape up ahead of you, wondering how on earth they had managed to keep such beauty hidden, you saw a figure walking towards you over the hill and you stood frozen still. As if that meant they couldn’t see you.

Your plan hadn’t gone any further than just getting here. Go figure.

“Who the hell are you?” the man said loudly as he continued getting closer and closer to you and you forced yourself to stay planted, not to run away. There was no turning back from this now.

“I’m looking for my soulmate,” you said bluntly, folding your arms, “A man named Steve. Do you know a Steve?”

The man laughed. It wasn’t a kind sound.

“There are not many Steves here.”

“Not many,” you repeated, staying brave even though your legs were jelly. You had come too far, “But any?”

The man looked distant. In thought. He came closer and in one sudden movement had your arms pinned behind your back with his hand, making you cry out in pain.

“I must take you to the king. You do not belong here.”

You didn’t struggle. The man had a look in his eye that told you not to, that it wasn’t in your best interests. But not in a threatening way. Somehow, you knew that wherever you were going, you were being lead towards Steve. You allowed yourself to be marched through the streets.

As you’d already realised: you had come too far to give up now. Or ever.

---

“Sir? I’ve brought an intruder to you.”

Your captor pushed you forward and you stumbled into the room. The door slammed behind you and you jumped at the sound. There was a man in the corner of the room, staring out of the window and you could only make out a shadow of his profile from here. You walked forwards.

“Are you...the king?”

The man laughed, only a little. This one was kinder.

“I am no king.”

You blinked at his voice. It sounded familiar, almost like…

The man turned around and at once it was obvious. Why he sounded familiar. Your eyes widened and you took a step back in shock as the man walked over to you from the window, his face hard and unforgiving and yet, you could see the remnants of soft lines within it that he hadn’t quite managed to rid himself of yet.

It was Captain America himself. The fugitive. Though you weren’t sure you could ever see such a hero as a fugitive yourself.

“Captain America?”

He had a little scruff going on that wasn’t at all unappealing and his hair was longer and less perfectly golden than it had looked on TV so many times. He was wearing a button down and slacks and the whole look of him was surreal.

“Not anymore,” he said, a hint of sadness there but you could only tell that because you were listening for it. Because it was already written into the lines of his face, of his frown, “Just Steve now.”

Your heart stopped beating. But started again just as quickly. You’d forgotten that he was called Steve. He was just...Captain America. America’s Sweetheart. Golden Boy. Hearing the name Steve out loud was enough to bring you to the verge of tears but you swallowed them right down. This was no place to cry.

“Well…” you were going to say his name but you found that you couldn’t. You opted to avoid it, “Well, I know I’m here to be...punished or whatever but please, hear me out first. I’m here to meet my soulmate. I tapped into his thoughts, you see, and I know that’s a crime but surely not one worth Captain America’s time, and I only did it because I haven’t spoken to him since the Battle of New York, well done there, by the way, and so I probed his mind and found he was in Wakanda so I pulled a few strings, paid out my life’s savings, held out a kitchen knife and here I am! But then that guy, the one that brought me here, the grumpy one, I asked him if he knew any Steves, because my soulmate’s name is Steve and he brought me-”

You stopped. Blinked.

“He brought me-”

The man in front of you wasn’t speaking. His mouth was slightly open and his face was as white as a sheet and his eyes were glassy. You blinked.

“He brought me to you.”

Your voice was so quiet you weren’t sure he’d even heard what you said. But he had. You blinked again, not knowing what else to do, as the pieces slowly slotted together in your head, all coming together to make a beautiful, albeit messy, puzzle.

After a few seconds, moments, minutes, you didn’t know, didn’t fucking care, you walked a couple of steps forwards and he didn’t move. You weren’t sure he could. There were tears in his eyes and on his lashes and on his cheeks and a couple that dropped onto his shirt and left blotchy marks in their wake. You reached up, the pace agonisingly laboured, until your hand gently came into contact with his chest and you pressed into it, feeling the unmoving muscle underneath. Your hand became a fist as you gripped him, your eyes flicking between both of his rapidly.

“...Steve?”

He let out a shaky breath.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You broke down, a breakdown 35 years in the making as both hands got a grip on his shirt and you choked out a sob, a broken sob that you couldn’t hold in. Your eyes locked closed, face becoming wrinkled and puffy and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest as you cried and cried and cried. All the tears from the last four years, the year before that, the years and years before even that where you kept them to yourself. A lifetime of tears bubbling, frothing over in bursting, uneven sobs.

Steve hesitated but not for long. He took you in his arms like he was always meant to, even as your hands hit and punched his chest, he held you, encircling your shoulders and your waist with both arms, clutching on tight as he cried too, less animalistic but with the same raw emotion that poured from you in waves.

He was whispering apologies into your mind, your soul, your ear, both out loud and silently, choked and firm, along with a host of promises that you couldn’t make any sense of.

After a few minutes, moments, hours, you didn’t have a clue, your sobs began to subside, Steve’s shirt drenched and your eyes void of tears to cry. Your hands were again laid flat against his chest, their assault finished, the fight having left them long ago. You pulled back and felt his arms tighten for a moment, the reluctance to give you any breathing room, but he obliged with your silent request.

“Where did you go, Steve? I needed you and you knew that and-” you wiped your nose on your sleeve and hiccuped a little, “Where did you go?”

“I had to stop talking to you, sweetheart. It was dangerous. For you. I am- I was Captain America. It wasn’t safe.”

You nodded. You got the feeling there was more to it than that, that it had come about from a wealth of insecurities and fears and doubts on his part and not the mere fact that he deemed it unsafe but you’d let that go for now. It was a conversation for another time.

Steve was here. In front of you. So late and yet right on time. You wouldn’t waste another moment of having him here.

“Are you still in?”

“I’m sorry?” he said and you let your hands travel from his chest up to the sides of his neck, cradling his face in your hands like he was made of fragile glass.

“What you said to me, that last day. Is that still...Do you still-”

“Always. I am always in. I was just scared. Y/N, I was just so scared. But I love you, I love you so goddamn much and-”

“Shh,” you said soothingly, pulling him in closer and the two of you instinctively closed your eyes as your foreheads touched together, gentle, testing, “I love you too. Always have. Even before I had you.”

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he whispered, his arms winding around your waist, one reaching up into your hair and playing with the strands, carefully, with the loving touch you’d only ever dreamed about.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” you retorted and then, with a small chuckle, “Out of the ice, I presume.”

“Makes sense now, huh?”

“You could’ve told me.”

“I know. I’m an idiot.”

You shook your head and he felt the vibrations against his forehead, your breath against his lips and the tingle that remained there. He could feel your grin. He never wanted to move again.

“My idiot.”

He surged forward at those words, caution to the wind, his desire overriding the overwhelming fear that he’d held towards you for so very long, the paralysing fear that had stopped him from reaching out, from answering when you called. The fear of you being used against him, used as bait, used in order to get to him.

That fear vanished as soon as he saw you.

And now he was kissing you. With every ounce of passion that had been missing in both your lives, with the messiness that came with no practice, with the perfection that came from a first kiss. Your arms were flung haphazardly around his neck and shoulders, gripping and pulling him closer, closer, closer and his own roamed your body, never settling, moving from your face to your hair to your back to your waist. Your tears mingled together on your cheeks.

You kissed until you were smiling too much to kiss anymore.

“We’ve got some catching up to do,” Steve said, loud and clear in your mind and you’d forgotten just how much you’d missed this. You leaned in and kissed him again, hand tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Later,” you promised silently as you kissed him, knowing that your heart had finally found its home.

---

“...and that is how you calculate the mass of a triangular prism!”

You grinned at your class and the blank looks you received in return only made you chuckle fondly. You looked at them pointedly before placing a hand next to your mouth as if you were telling them a secret.

“How about we finish early for Friday break time?”

The children cheered and had run out of your classroom before you could say another word. You laughed again. They all looked forward to Friday break time. Taking the board eraser from the desk and wiping down all that remained of your maths lesson, you shook your head.

You’d need to work harder to get them interested in this nonsense. You made a mental note to yourself to come up with some sort of game later for them to play tomorrow, because it was the only way you’d get them to take this in.

You strolled outside the watch the kids, standing beside the steps into the school and leaning against the railings. It was a sunny day, with just enough clouds for the air to be light and airy but the most gorgeous and bluest of blue skies in between. It was a good day.

You looked at your watch. 10:30 exactly.

“Hey sweetheart.”

There he was. Right on time.

“Hi honey.”

Correction. Of all of them, it was you who looked forward to Friday break time the most.

625 notes · View notes

thelastspeecher · 5 years ago

Text

Superhero/villain AU - Cousins

Originally, I was just going to post the part of this that had Emmett in it. But then I decided to title it “Cousins”, and I figured I had to include the part I wrote with Emily, since she is also a cousin. As a reminder, this is a modern AU, so Shermie is Dipper and Mabel’s dad, making Stan their uncle, rather than great-uncle. Anyways, enjoy the far too much stuff I wrote, featuring emo Emmett and ray of sunshine Emily.

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

“Emily, what powers do you have?” Dipper asked. Emily looked up from what she was working on, some sort of homemade illicit firework. She and Dipper were relaxing in the backyard while Mabel ran errands with Angie.

“Aerokinesis. Why?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all.” Dipper frowned. “I don’t think that runs in the Pines family.”

“You’d be right ‘bout that,” Emily said, turning her attention back to the gunpowder in front of her. “It’s from my ma’s side. Actually, she’s an aero too. And so is her mom. It’s kinda cool. Like a family tradition.” Emily looked up, thinking. “Daisy got Dad’s powers, Danny’s are from Ma’s side – apparently our great-grandma had the same power as her – and Emmett’s are new.”

“New?” Dipper cocked his head curiously. “What do you mean?” He closed his book and put it to the side, then took out a notepad and pen from his vest. Emily chortled.

“You makin’ a family tree or somethin’, cuz?”

“How powers get inherited is just…really cool.”

“Yeah. It is. That’s why Uncle Ford researches it.” Emily sighed. “Anyways, Emmett’s power is sorta a combination of Grandma Pines’ and…” Emily trailed off. She frowned. “One of Grandma Gucket’s sister’s, I think. Grandma Gucket is estranged from her family, so I’ve never met whoever it is Emmett got part of his power from.”

“What is his power?” Dipper asked. Emily shook her head.

“Sorry, kid. My sisters, I’m fine tellin’ you, but Emmett’s power is, ah, sensitive. He doesn’t like people knowing about it. If you wanna know, ask him.”

“Maybe…” Dipper chewed on his pen thoughtfully. He hadn’t seen much of Stan and Angie’s only son, even over a month into the summer. Emmett was very antisocial, or to use the word Mabel had immediately identified him as, emo.

“Hey bro-bro, hey Emily!” Mabel’s shout shocked Dipper from his reverie. He looked over. Mabel bounded through the back door and over to them. “Auntie Angie got me some new yarn!”

“It weren’t no problem,” Angie replied, strolling outside. She smiled fondly at Mabel. “Got to encourage creativity in young folk.”

“Aunt Angie, Emily was telling me you had powers?” Dipper asked her. Angie froze. She frowned at Emily.

“Wait, what?” Mabel gasped. “I thought you didn’t! I thought that was why Dad told us not to ask you what power you have!”

“I-” Angie’s expression was conflicted. She took a breath. “The reason yer dad said not to ask was prob’ly because it’s a bit rude to ask. The two of ya could use some work on yer manners, after all.”

“What power do you have?” Mabel asked.

“Emily said aerokinesis,” Dipper said. Mabel’s eyes widened.

“Whoa, isn’t that like, what Uncle Stan’s archnemesis has?” she asked. Angie glared at Emily.

“…Yes.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s so romantic,” Mabel gushed. “I mean, you two fell in love even though you have the same power as the person he hates most!”

“I think the person Dad hates most is the IRS,” Emily said. Her cheerful tone sounded a bit forced. “Then again, that’s an organization, not a person.”

“Mm-hmm.” Angie cleared her throat. “Emily?”

“Comin’,” Emily said, getting to her feet. She followed Angie inside.

“I didn’t know that would get Emily in trouble,” Dipper said quietly to Mabel. “I feel kinda bad.”

“Pfft, you’re probably reading into things,” Mabel said. “Auntie Angie probably isn’t mad at her. I mean, she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but…” Dipper sighed. “Never mind. Did you have any luck with Aunt Angie?”

“Nope.” Mabel flopped onto the grass next to him. “She said she doesn’t know anything about Uncle Stan’s job.”

“Great. So we’re no closer to figuring out who Sirocco is.” Dipper resuming chewing on his pen. “Maybe we could ask Emily if she knows any aeros other than her and Aunt Angie. It’s not a very common power.”

“Maybe.” Mabel picked at the grass. “Dipper, are you sure you wanna keep at this? It’s kinda boring. I mean, if Uncle Stan couldn’t figure out Sirocco’s true identity, do we stand a chance at it? Wouldn’t you rather go do touristy things and look at all the stuff in the city? Auntie Angie said Emily is planning on taking us to some superhero-themed place tomorrow.”

“We can do both, Mabel. And yes, I wanna figure it out. I don’t have the kind of power that’s gonna make me a natural superhero, so I need to make sure I’ve got the detective part down. This is good practice.”

“I guess,” Mabel sighed.

“By the way, I think Emmett has some sort of telepathic power.”

“Really? Why?”

“Emily said his power is actually combined from Grandma Pines’ and someone in Aunt Angie’s family. Grandma Pines is telepathic. And it’d make sense for someone to avoid people if they’re telepathic. Being able to hear thoughts all the time has to be difficult,” Dipper said. Mabel nodded. “But Emily wouldn’t tell me outright what his power is. She said it’s ‘sensitive’. Whatever that means.”

“We should ask him.”

“Maybe.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “But I get the feeling if it’s sensitive enough Emily won’t tell us, Emmett won’t, either.”

“That’s quitter talk. You’re never gonna be a detective if you won’t ask our own cousin a question,” Mabel said, shoving him playfully. Dipper shoved her back, laughing.

“Kids!” Dipper and Mabel looked over at the back door. It was Angie. “Emily’s grounded fer a couple days, so Emmett’s goin’ to take ya to the café tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, Auntie Angie!” Mabel shouted. Angie smiled. She closed the back door. Mabel turned to Dipper. “Huh. I guess you were right. Emily’s in trouble.”

“Yeah. But why? Why would telling someone about Aunt Angie’s power get her grounded?” Dipper wondered out loud. Mabel grinned at him.

“Maybe you should work on that, detective.”

-----

“So, uh, here’s the coffeeshop or whatever,” Emmett mumbled, nodding at the store they were standing in front of. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket. “They’ve got good hot chocolate.”

“What about espresso?” Mabel asked. Emmett glanced at her with the eye not covered by his dyed black hair.

“…If I let you have coffee, Dad’ll be so mad, he might sign me up fer boxing again.” Emmett looked back at the storefront. “But that bein’ said, they have a decent espresso.” Emmett let out a long sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.” He pushed open the door, making the bell above jingle.

“By the way, Emmett,” Mabel said, following him into the coffeeshop, “I’ve been meaning to ask. What brand eyeliner do you use?” Emmett eyed her again. “It just looks so nice!”

“Uh, thanks,” Emmett said. He looked away. “It’s part of the Angst Outside line from g.n.o.m.e.”

“I’ll have to look into that,” Mabel chirped. She sniffed the air. “Mm. I love the coffee smell! Don’t you, Dipper?”

“Yeah, I like it,” Dipper agreed. He looked around. The coffeeshop was quaint and cute, like most local cafés. There was a back wall apparently reserved for fliers promoting various events, tchotchkes on every surface, and some sort of folksy music playing. What set apart the coffeeshop from other ones he’d been to was the theme of the décor. Superheroes. The tchotchkes were superhero figurines and the artsy posters on the walls renditions of local heroes. Dipper picked up a ceramic sculpture of someone he thought was called Manly Man. Ignoring his cousins’ fascination with the décor, Emmett trudged over to the counter.

“Well, like I said, I’m not getting either of you guys coffee. Or anything with caffeine, really.” He let out a long sigh. “I guess I can get you a cookie to share or somethin’.”

“Ooh, yes!” Mabel bounded over to the display case by the counter, pressing her face against the glass. “Dipper, look! They’ve got a cookie named after Un- Flamethrower!”

“Wait, really?” Dipper joined his twin at the display case. Mabel pointed at a gingersnap cookie that had a honey-chili frosting on top in the shape of the logo on Stan’s superhero suit. “Cool.”

“This place is themed after superheroes,” Emmett grunted. He shrugged. “I like the supervillain one more, but Dad wanted you to come here, so…”

“I like the supervillain one more, too,” a teenaged boy said, coming out from a door behind the counter. He grinned at Emmett. “Most Sycamore Grove kids do.” Emmett beamed. Dipper elbowed Mabel.

“Mabel, look!” Mabel tore herself away from the sweets. She gaped.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Emmett smile once this summer,” she whispered. Emmett leaned on the counter.

“I didn’t know ya worked here, Carter,” he said, his voice just as cheerful as Emily’s usually was. Carter chuckled.

“Well, don’t tell Ruby or Derek. They might kick me outta the group.”

“Please,” Emmett said, waving a hand clad in a fingerless glove. “You were there when my dad got home from work that day. You didn’t kick me out, and neither did Ruby or Derek when they found out. Workin’ here ain’t nearly as big a deal as my dad’s job.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t choose your dad’s job. I chose to work here,” Carter said playfully. Emmett laughed. “So, lemme guess, these kids are your cousins?” Emmett paled.

“You didn’t-”

“No! I know better than to outside of school. They look a lot like your dad, that’s all.”

“Oh. Right.” Emmett looked at Dipper and Mabel. “Yeah. They do.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, go ahead and order, okay?”

“I think we’re going to need a minute to decide,” Dipper said, scanning the extensive menu behind Carter. Mabel had returned to ogling the desserts. Emmett smiled weakly.

“Take yer time,” he said. He turned back to Carter. “Have ya heard from Leif lately?”

-----

Emmett and Carter chatted the entire time Carter was working on their drinks, animatedly discussing mutual friends and teachers. By the time they finally left the coffeeshop, Dipper and Mabel had heard at least twice as many words from Emmett as they’d heard since they arrived.

“I know a shortcut,” Emmett said, jerking his head in the direction of a nearby alleyway.

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his to-go iced hot chocolate. “It looks a bit shady.”

“It’s fine.” Emmett walked away at a fast pace, making Dipper and Mabel jog briefly to catch up. The further they got from the coffeehouse, the more withdrawn he became, his posture slumped and eyes downcast.

“Who was that?” Mabel asked.

“Carter? He’s m’ best friend.”

“What’s Sycamore Grove?” Dipper asked. Emmett hunched his shoulders.

“The high school I go to.”

“I thought Emily said she went to…what was it called? Franklin?”

“Yeah,” Emmett mumbled. “We go to dif’rent high schools.”

“But you guys are twins!” Mabel said. Emmett’s pace slowed.

“Yeah,” he repeated. “But I had to go to Sycamore Grove fer…reasons.” Emmett kicked at a rock. It hit a nearby dumpster with a ringing sound. “Emily doesn’t need to go there, though, so she goes to Franklin.”

“Is Sycamore Grove the high school for troubled teens?” Dipper asked. His eyes widened.

Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that! Emmett might think I’m insulting him! To his surprise, Emmett let out a soft chuckle.

“I mean, yer not completely wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked. Emmett sighed.

“It’s complicated. I don’t wanna-” Emmett came to a sudden stop. He held his arm out, blocking Dipper and Mabel from going past him. “I see you,” Emmett said in a clear, carrying voice. “Stop hidin’ and come out here in the open.” Dipper winced. Something about Emmett’s voice was almost painful to hear. A shadowy figure dropped from above, landing in front of them.

“Who’s-” Mabel started. Emmett put a hand on her head.

“Shh, cuz. Lemme handle this.” Emmett straightened his back. He looked directly at the stranger in front of them. “Go home.” Dipper winced again.

Why does it hurt when he talks like that? It’s like he’s shouting, but he’s not. Or like he’s saying more than one thing at once. The stranger turned around and began to walk away.

“Drop everything dangerous yer carrying,” Emmett said quickly. Despite the pain it caused, Dipper listened intently to his cousin’s voice, trying to figure out what was going on. The stranger slowly removed items from their pockets, dropping them onto the ground. “When you get home, forget you saw us.” Dipper clasped his hands over his ears. His drink fell to the ground.

Okay, trying to listen harder was a bad decision. Emmett crouched down in front of him.

“Dipper?” Emmett asked quietly. “You all right?” Emmett’s eyes, for once neither of them hidden by his bangs, were full of concern. Up close, Dipper could see they were a rich brown, like his and Mabel’s.

“Yeah, I just- your voice hurt a bit, that’s all.”

“It hurt?” Emmett said. He seemed taken aback. “That’s- how would that-” He furrowed his brow. “What power do you have?”

“Um, Dad says it’s called omnilingualism.”

“Omni- Oh. You understand languages and codes?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How powerful are you?”

“Um, I dunno.”

“Can you figure out people’s intentions by readin’ body language, if you focus hard enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh dear.” Emmett grimaced. “I bet you got a bit of Grandma Pines’ telepathy. I’m sorry, Dipper. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone so strong.”

“Whattaya mean?” Mabel asked. “How did your voice hurt Dipper? I’m fine!”

“People with communication-based abilities like omnilingualism get affected more by my power,” Emmett said. He looked over Dipper with a careful gaze similar to Angie’s. “And folks with telepathy can tell when I use it, but they’re usually able to block it out. I’m guessin’ those two things made ya get hurt even though I wasn’t directing anything at you, Dipper. Again, I’m sorry. If I ever have to do it again ‘round you, I’ll be more careful.”

“I’m fine, I just- wait, what about that bad guy?” Dipper asked. Emmett didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder.

“He’s headin’ home and won’t remember what we look like, don’t worry.”

“How do you know he-” Dipper started. He paused. “Unless your power is…”

“…Yeah.” Emmett stood to his full height again and looked away. “I can control people.” He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Grandma Gucket’s sister could do it by singin’ at folks. Called it a siren call. Grandma Pines can by usin’ her telepathy if she tries hard enough. I got a bit of both. Verbal commands work best, but if I so much as think ‘bout somethin’ I want someone to do, it usually happens.”

“How did you figure it out?” Mabel asked. Emmett scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground.

“When my sister actually left my room when I told her to, I knew somethin’ was afoot.” He sighed. “I’ve gotten good enough that controlling people is on purpose most of the time. But I still slip up sometimes. So Ma and Dad shipped me off to Sycamore Grove.” Emmett shook his head. “Enough ‘bout my power. Dipper, if ya want, we can get you a new drink.”

“It’s fine, I think I wanna go back to your house,” Dipper said quietly.

“Fair enough.” Emmett set off. He kept glancing at Dipper as they walked, visibly worried.

“I’m fine, Emmett, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I just…” Emmett looked away. “…Never mind.”

“Seriously though, what sort of school is Sycamore Grove?” Dipper asked. “I mean, Carter said people from there don’t like the superhero café or Uncle Stan’s job, you said it was sort of for troubled teens, Aunt Angie and Uncle Stan sent you there because of your power-” Dipper cut himself off. He exchanged a look with Mabel. Mabel’s eyes were wide, indicating she had figured it out, too.

“Yep,” Emmett said glumly. “It’s the school villains send their kids to.”

“Whoa,” Dipper and Mabel said together. Emmett nodded.

“Sure, anyone can attend, but no one would send their kid there if they didn’t have to. Unfortunately, they’re the only people who can handle my powers, which means I’m one of the kids who has to go there.”

“I’m guessing Uncle Stan didn’t like that,” Dipper said. Emmett grinned, surprising Dipper.

“You’d be right. Ma won’t even let him pick me up from school, she’s so worried ‘bout someone recognizing him as the hero, Flamethrower. I actually kinda like how uncomfortable it makes Dad.” He glanced at Dipper and Mabel. “Now that I’ve gotten used to goin’ to school with a bunch of kids whose parents regularly beat up mine.”

“Doesn’t it make Aunt Angie uncomfortable, too, sending you there?” Dipper asked. “You only mentioned Uncle Stan.” Emmett’s eyes widened. He looked away hurriedly.

“Uh, yeah, it- it does, it’s just that since Dad’s actually a hero, his discomfort is more entertaining.” Emmett took a left turn and they exited the alleyway. Stan and Angie’s house stood before them.

“We’re back already?” Mabel asked, surprised. Emmett nodded.

“Yep.”

“That was some shortcut. I need tips from you,” Mabel said cheerfully.

“…Maybe some other time. I’m gonna…go…” Emmett said. By the end of his sentence, he had resumed the soft mumbling they usually heard from him. He headed for the house. Dipper grabbed Mabel before she could follow.

“What is it, bro-bro?” Mabel asked him.

“Emmett lied,” Dipper whispered to her. “Once he said he went to a villain school, I decided to pay extra attention to see if he was lying at all.”

“And he was? When?”

“When he said that Aunt Angie was uncomfortable with sending him to the villain high school.”

“So Auntie Angie thinks that’s fine? She married a superhero!”

“I know.” Dipper looked over at the house. Angie was weeding in the front garden. She caught sight of them and waved. “I think we need to go back to the drawing board, Mabel. We’ve got some clues to connect.” Mabel groaned.

“You’re not gonna use my red yarn again, are you?”

“What else would I use on my evidence board?”

“Fine,” Mabel mumbled. She poked him. “I had a really cute sweater planned, so this better be worth it.”

“Don’t worry. It will be.”

#.......I did NOT mean to write this much #I just couldn't control myself whoops #I wanted to write some Emily and Emmett with Dip and Mabs and I got a bit out of hand #Superhero/villain AU #Stangie Family #Emily Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Angie McGucket #Emmett McGucket #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

16 notes · View notes

stillthewordgirl · 7 years ago

Text

LOT/CC fic: Secret Santa, part 3 (of 4)

Len really isn't the "Secret Santa" type. Hell, he's not really the Christmas type. But when Sara challenges him...well. Maybe this could be fun, after all...

I'm sorry this was delayed. But in return, you get a chapter that's longer than the two preceding it combined! Things took a bit of a turn toward actual plot. Many thanks to @larielromeniel for helping catch all my late-night writing typos and getting some things straightened out.

Can also be read here at FF.net or here at AO3. (Recommended, ‘cause this is LONG.)

Happy New Year, everyone!

The '20s in Chicago are about as fun as Len thought they'd be. He's quite fond of the dapper blue suit Gideon helps him create in the fabrication room, actually, and even Mick—who isn't fond of "playin' dress-up," as he calls it—seems to like his own smoke-gray one.

Of course, Len's so distracted by the sight of Sara spinning around in her very, very short, sparkling flapper's dress that Hunter gives them one of his patented pity-the-poor-captain looks and pointedly tells Kendra and Mick to make sure someone's paying attention to the mission. The very fact that he includes Mick in that order shows just how much things have changed over the past year, both with Mick and with Hunter's view of him. Of all of them, really.

Kendra, in her own sparkly flapper dress that's not quite so short, laughs, and Mick, popping his fedora onto his head, snorts, but they do listen. And Leonard and Sara aren't quite so distracted that they'd fudge a serious mission because of it. The four of them, with the others ready as backup at the ship (much to Raymond's disappointment), handily filch the futuristic weapons a very small-time mobster had obtained from time pirates, with only a few small stops and side trips to obtain some authentic Prohibition-era moonshine—and perhaps a few other small items.

And one slight delay when Sara'd decided to distract guards in a speakeasy by dancing. Len's pretty sure that's a vision that's going to haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future. (Especially since she'd followed it up by delivering quite the ass kicking onto the same guards.)

She's not, however, quite so fond of the reward for said ass kicking.

"This is even worse than that swill they were serving back in Salvation," Sara comments, wrinkling her nose after just one sip. She's sitting in the galley with Len, Mick and Kendra after their return, trying out their stolen 'shine as they rehash the mission. Kendra, who'd declined to even take one drink, shakes her head, pushing over the box of chocolates she'd found left in her room by her Secret Santa. She's guarded them zealously enough that Len's actually somewhat touched by her willingness to share them now.

And he's a sucker for the peppermint ones.

"It's not so bad." Mick takes another drink, but even he's not putting the booze away as quickly as he has in the past. "Just…um…distinctive. Is that what they call it?"

"Yes. It is," Len informs him, drily, setting down his glass. "Both, actually. But I don't think 'distinctive' is necessarily a good thing."

"More for me."

"And welcome to it," Sara tells him, pushing the glass away and taking a chocolate. "I think we've established I can drink you under the table, big guy. I've got nothing to prove. Especially not with that stuff. I have better taste."

Mick's eyes brighten at that line, though, and he quickly glances at Leonard, who glares at him as he tries to think of a good way to head off what's coming. It's Kendra, to his surprise, who comes to his rescue.

"Taste is relative," the former hawk goddess says smoothly. "Did you know the ancient Egyptians were the first ones to perfect the brewing of beer? It didn't taste much like today's, though. I wonder what you'd make of it."

Mick is successfully distracted, although something in the smile he turns on the dark-haired woman says that he's allowing himself to be. "Yeah? And you remember that?"

"Oddly enough…"

Leonard snorts, then glances at Sara, who shakes her head in amusement. Then, against his better judgment, he leans a little closer.

"So," he drawls, "figure out who gave you that excellent gift?"

Sara'd found a whetstone waiting for her on her desk when they'd returned from Chicago, one of a unique make even she'd never seen before. But it worked like a dream, and she was so pleased with it that Leonard rather wished he'd had the idea first.

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward just a little too. "Like I'd tell you if I did." A look from under lowered lashes. "Or are you saying that it was you?"

Yes, he wishes he'd had the idea first. "I'm not giving anything away, birdie."

"You give away plenty, Len."

Now, what does she mean by that? "Oh?" he asks, just a little cautiously. "Do tell…"

But Mick interrupts them with a snort, and they both glance up to see both him and Kendra watching them with particularly amused, if world-weary, expressions. But Mick doesn't comment this time, just shakes his head and pushes his chair back, getting to his feet.

"Told the nerd squad I'd meet 'em to hash over some more rescue ideas," he mutters. "Think I'll take a few glasses of the 'shine, since no one here likes it. Haircut gets real creative with the science-y stuff when you get some liquor into him, and maybe it'll help."

Kendra rises too, as he does. "How are you doing?" she asks curiously. "With the plans. Everyone was so optimistic at first, but lately…"

"But lately, not so much." Mick shakes his head, pouring a few glasses before turning for the door and then glancing back.

"Time Bastards, they were smarter than they looked. Even with their damned gadget…" He nods to Snart, who nods back … damn right he'll take credit for destroying the Oculus. "…they made it real hard to undo their bullshit. Fuckers."

Well, Leonard can't argue with that. He opens his mouth to ask another question, but Mick anticipates it.

"Ain't saying any more," the big man says with a grunt as he turns back for the door. "I hate remembering it, what they did…well. Only reason I'm doing it is 'cause of Rip's kid. S'got a dad who loves him. He should…"

Len gets Mick's issues with that as well as anyone ever will. "Yeah," he cuts in. "Good luck."

Mick leaves without another backward glance. Kendra does glance at him, but she leaves, too.

Leonard reaches over and reclaims his glass of moonshine, taking another sip even as he winces at the taste. He can feel Sara's eyes on him, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she reaches over and takes his glass, stealing a sip herself.

Len glances over after a moment, meets her eyes.

Understanding.

Nothing more. But also, nothing less.

He watches her another minute. Then, "So. Do you want to finish the movie?"

Sara's startled into a laugh. They'd started watching "The Untouchables" right before the ship's foray to Chicago, after she'd told Len while sparring that she'd never seen it. ("That was the year I was born, old man!") So, he, of course, had insisted she had to. Before visiting actual Prohibition-era Chicago, of course.

Merely a bonus if it meant a few more hours in her company.

They'd only made it halfway through before they'd both started nodding off, though, and Len didn't have quite the nerve to let her fall asleep with her head on his shoulder (or to let himself drift off with his chin against her hair). So, using the excuse that she'd have a hell of a crick in her neck if she stayed like that (and resisting the urge to suggest they both get more comfortable), he'd woken her gently and watched as she left with an apology and a sleepy mumble.

And spent the next hour staring at the ceiling and regretting the choice.

"Well, now that we've seen the real thing, it might not be as much fun…but yes," Sara said, decisively, bringing him back to the here and now as she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "I have some things to do right now. Later. Tomorrow? I'm all screwed up with that stop…what's ship's time, Gideon?"

"8:19 p.m., Ms. Lance," the AU said promptly. "It is not surprising your internal clock is, as you say, 'all screwed up.' You left Chicago at 11 p.m. local time, after spending approximately six hours there, and that was two-and-a-half hours ago in the time stream. Your body cannot decide if it's 1:30 a.m. or mid-evening." Gideon's tone takes on a slightly lecturing note. "I keep telling Captain Hunter that none of you have had the training in such readjustments that he has, but…"

"…but we are pretty used to weird hours. Some of us, anyway. The assassins and thieves." Sara winks at Leonard. "It evens out."

"But…"

"It's OK, Gideon. See you later, Len."

Leonard watches her go, then picks up the bottle of 'shine, swirling the liquid around and watching it. The raw burn of it hadn't been to his taste, but he can see the lure of the quick oblivion it promises, especially in the mean streets of the city they'd just left.

Not for him, though. He'd blown up the Time Masters in part because he hated the idea of someone else pulling his strings. He'll be damned if he lets the booze do it.

"Mr. Snart?"

Gideon's voice is tentative. Len smiles to himself, sitting the bottle down, pretty sure of what the AI has to say.

"Gideon, after all this time," he drawls, tipping his chair backward, "don't you think you can call me 'Leonard?' "

A pause.

"Mr. Snart," the AI repeats with emphasis, "such familiarity would be against my programming."

"And you always have to go with your programming."

"It is in my nature."

Not quite a confirmation. "Well, it's in my nature to hate the idea of programming. Which I'm pretty sure you know." Leonard brings the front two legs of the chair back to the floor. "What's up?"

Another pause.

"Captain Hunter, he was quite pleased by the first gift," Gideon says finally. "Have you thoughts on a second?"

Through her sensors, he's pretty sure Gideon can see him, but he conceals his smile anyway. "Not as of yet," he points out. "Any ideas yourself?"

The AI is quiet for a few moments. "Not…particularly," she says then, tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "It is true that Captain Hunter only truly wants one thing right now. Two things. And anything else I can think of is likely to rely too much, perhaps, on nostalgia. Not that that is a bad thing, but…"

"But a random crook is probably not the best to invoke it."

But Gideon has a comeback to that immediately. "On the contrary, Mr. Snart. You and Captain Hunter are more alike than either one of you is ever likely to care to admit." A little asperity, there? Even amusement? "Still, it would take something specific, and I have no particular thoughts on that. Not as of yet."

"Well," he retorts, just a bit unsettled by her words. "Keep thinking."

"As long as you do the same, Mr. Snart."

He and Hunter are not alike.

He's a far better planner, for one, Leonard thinks grumpily as he stalks the halls of the Waverider a bit later, unwilling to admit that his sleeping patterns are off, after all, thanks to time travel. He's a better leader. Better looking.

Petty? Oh, a tad. But no one ever said Leonard Snart couldn't be petty. He's pretty good at that, too.

Slowing to a stop as he nears Hunter's study, he sighs, acknowledging that, at least. And also that Gideon had a point. About a couple of things.

As far as he knows, Mick's still with the others. Well, he's feeling just petty enough to barge in. Maybe another look at the study will give him some ideas…

And that's when the door slides open, the captain himself rushing out and stumbling to a stop before hitting the team thief.

For a moment, the two men just stare at each other. Len, recovering quickly and pasting on his usual smirk, notes the slightly reddened eyes, the stress and the grief in the Brit's features before the man recovers enough to slap his own typically harried expression on.

"Mr. Snart," Hunter clips out before sidestepping him. "Excuse me." Then he raises his voice and his eyes. "Gideon, set a course for the Refuge. I…have a few inquiries to make there. And I promised Mother that I'd look in; I've been sadly remiss in that."

"Now?" Leonard inquires pointedly, turning to look at him. "Kinda late. Pretty sure a good portion of your team is asleep or exhausted."

Hunter's eyes narrow, but Gideon cuts in smoothly at that point, as Mick and Raymond follow Hunter out of the study. "Captain, I hate to say this, but Mr. Snart is correct." She continues as Len mutters, "Gee, thanks, Gideon." "I can set the course, but I would recommend actually making the jump in the morning, ship's time. That will also give you time to…consider what you hope to achieve."

Hunter runs a hand over his face, then shakes his head. "Yes…yes, of course, Gideon." He fixes Len and the others with a look. "So. Rest is in order, people. We jump in the morning."

With that, he strides off toward the captain's quarter. Leonard shakes his head as Mick joins him.

"Not going well, I take it?"

"Nah…"

"He says we…well, he…created a 'time knot.' " Raymond's voice is concerned, and Len decides to leave off antagonizing the man for the time being…to better obtain information, of course. "When he recruited us, when you…" He motions vaguely at Len, who raises his eyebrows. "…um, blew up the Time Masters, when we killed Savage. We made it so there's no way to save his wife and son, because if they don't die, he doesn't recruit us and none of that happens and…"

"Breathe, Raymond." Len turns to look at Mick. "And this is news?

The bigger man shrugs. "Well, there's usually wriggle room. The Time Masters, they operate…operated…in that wriggle room, those little spaces between events. You know, like…" He ponders a moment. "…well, uh…oh, hell. The thing with the time pirates. The Time Masters, they grabbed me in the time after you left, before you could even possibly come back." He waves a hand as Leonard starts to respond. "Don't say it again, I was an ass, you didn't have a choice, yadda yadda. Water under the bridge. Anyway, we figured we'd find something here. But…really seems to be tied up tight. We've been going over it and going over it." He shrugs as Raymond nods. "Can't find nothing."

"So, why the Refuge?"

"Honestly, Snart, I ain't got the foggiest idea."

The place looks the same as it had the last time they were there, before the Vanishing Point and the Oculus and Savage. Len feels a prickle run up his spine as he follows Hunter and the others down the path toward the stately home, slowing so that he can study the place.

Nothing unusual. He knows they're at…what was Hunter's phrase? A secret location in time and space…but there's nothing to clue anyone into that fact. Not unless he can count that unnerving prickle…not Alexa, no, not quite…that just won't go away.

He's so engrossed in thought that it takes him a moment to notice that Sara's dropped back to walk next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she murmurs, watching him.

"Nah. Gotta be at least a quarter," he shoots back, then sighs, hanging back a little more while she slows with him. "Wishing that I knew more about this place," he says in a low tone. "Do you... feel that?"

Sara lifts an eyebrow at him, but apparently decides against innuendo. "No? Feel what? It seems the same."

"There's like…this electricity in the air." Ill at ease, he pauses instead of following the others up the steps. "Do you think we're still…"

"Our younger selves? No. Rip said he was bringing us to a point after that. You were too busy trading barbs with Stein to hear him." She taps him on the shoulder and he finds himself leaning into the contact, then stops. Sara doesn't comment, but she does turn around and walk backward a few moments, studying him thoughtfully.

He studies her in return, noticing something. "That new?"

"The jersey?" The corner of her mouth rises and she nods, turning to let her jacket slip off her shoulders just enough to show the "Lance" on the back. "Uh huh. Starling City Rockets. My 'Santa' worked fast. And paid attention. I used to go to games with my dad. It's even the old name."

"Nice." He means it.

"Very." Sara shrugs the jacket back on and slows even more, although the others are in the house at this point. "Stein's worked fast too. Got him this gorgeous crystal menorah that's made to be extra-stable and spill-proof. A plus for the Waverider."

"Heh. No one tell Mick. He's still annoyed Gideon won't let him have candles."

Sara starts to retort, but at that moment, they both feel eyes on them. They stop in their tracks, Sara's hand going reflexively to her sleeve and Len's to a cold gun that isn't there, and look up.

A tall woman stands on the Refuge's porch, watching them. No, watching him. She looks no older than before, and no younger, very much the same. Her expression is very, very serious and her eyes are…cold? No, judging. Maybe both?

Len feels the prickle down his spine intensify, and shuffles uneasily where he stands. For the first time, he remembers…Mary Xavier was all about protecting her children.

Who were to be become Time Masters.

And he…

But after a moment, a moment that probably felt longer to him than it actually was, she shakes her head. Her eyes flick to Sara, then back to him, an actual smile touches her lips…and she turns and goes back inside the house. Len lets out a breath and feels the tension subside, a little.

But not completely.

"That was a little creepy," Sara says under her breath. She relaxes her stance, and Leonard's warmed, a little, by the realization that she'd been ready to back him up.

"Yeah." He hesitates. "I can't say I really blame her, if you think…"

But Sara's been following his line of thought, apparently. She glares at him before he can get the words out. "No. We didn't have much of a choice. Not if we wanted to break their control, get back our free will and save the world. And you…you nearly died…"

There's something in her voice, there, and he glances over, startled, seeing her mouth set in a firm line and her eyes directed at where Xavier had vanished. That's the most she's said about his near-miss with death since they'd dragged him out of the time stream, and even then, she'd just threatened to kill him if he ever did anything that stupid again.

"Sara…"

"A-hem."

They both look up to see Hunter, standing on the porch with his arms folded and a stern look on his face. He apparently isn't so lost in distraction and grief that he's failed to notice that two of his wayward team members were unaccounted for on the property, and given which two, it's not so surprising he'd come looking.

And the moment's gone.

Inside, the team's split up. Kendra's already sitting in a rocking chair, contentedly rocking one of the littlest residents of the Refuge, and after a moment, Sara goes to join her. Mick and Jax have headed for the kitchens, unsurprisingly, and Raymond and Stein for one of the several libraries—also unsurprisingly.

Len drifts after that last pair, undecided. The ladies' conversation runs too much of a risk of drifting toward his adorable infant self, and that's just a touch unnerving. (He thinks they do it on purpose.) He's not hungry. And the lure of books is strong…

The sound of a footfall, though, makes him turn to the left. He skulks down a corridor, catching a flicker of Hunter's coat as the man heads up a staircase that's nearly concealed around a corner. There's a murmur of voices and as far as Leonard knows, there's only one other adult at the Refuge…

After a moment, he follows them, silent as a lifelong thief can be.

The staircase is narrow and curving; the passageway it ends in, just as close. He trails the voices to a door that's just a crack ajar, then, after a moment and some reflection, moves quickly to the other side so he can peer in the even smaller crack there.

Hunter is pacing; he can see the motion. It's a familiar sight, generally paired with a lecture that he (and Sara, and Mick) usually tunes out…

"…giving up…"

Frowning, Len concentrates on the words.

"You and I both know, Michael, that what the Time Masters call a 'time knot' usually meant 'we don't want to change it, so we'll find a 'reason' why we can't." Mary Xavier's tone is both sympathetic and slightly lecturing. "You're not one to give up. Not usually. And what did I say about wallowing?"

"Is it truly wallowing if…" Hunter's tone drops enough that Leonard can't hear him, but after a moment, his voice rises again. "…if there is truly no hope, it is one thing, but every instinct I have says there is, despite how it seems. Am I fooling myself?

The woman sighs. "Michael," she says fondly, "you came here today to have me tell you what you already know yourself. That if hope remains, you must follow it. Anything else would be a betrayal of who you are."

Len can hear Hunter's sigh. "Well," the other man says after a moment, a thread of humor back in his tone, "I came to check in, too. I said I would."

"You have said many things over the years." Her tone is stern, but then she laughs a little. "Thank you. We…continue. And we wait."

For? Leonard frowns.

"I don't know if I can do what you want me to do." Hunter's voice is uneasy, and he starts to pace again.

"What you must do. And you already have. At least, you've started."

Their listener wants to hear more along that line, but the captain apparently prefers to avoid it. He's silent for a long moment, moving around the room, and Leonard scans it as best he can through the crack, realizing that they're in another library.

Then he hears a volume being removed from a bookshelf and the sigh Hunter makes as he sees it.

" 'A Wrinkle in Time,'" the captain reads from the cover, then makes a thoughtful noise "I remember reading, and rereading, this copy. Oh, countless times. There's the mended tear in the back corner, where Daniel took it from me that time, and the fold from when Gabrielle borrowed it. I couldn't find it as I got older; thought it just got lost, or someone took it with them." He carefully replaces it on the shelf as Len watches. "I never got my own copy. Meant to read it with Jonas, but, well…"

He sighs again. "I'm going to go consult the science and history libraries; I have before, but you never know. I think the others are enjoying being off the ship, so…we'll stay for dinner, with your permission?"

At her assent, Hunter leaves, never looking back into the corridor and the crook watching from the shadows. Leonard stands a moment, digesting what he's heard, then looks at the door.

After a moment, he sighs…and enters.

Mary Xavier, he's pretty sure, has been waiting for him.

The mistress of the Refuge is sitting behind a desk in the room, which has wide windows letting in the morning sunshine and is, indeed, lined with bookshelves. These aren't the mostly big, leather-bound and serious-looking tones of the other libraries he's seen here, but an eclectic mix: worn paperbacks, colorful picture books, thick novels. Leonard barely gives them a glance, though, however tempted he may be.

Instead, trying for his typical insouciance, he parks his hip against a low table and folds his arms, waiting. Mary regards him for a long moment, then nods.

"Ah," she says, a satisfied sound. "The beautiful baby boy with the big blue eyes." She pauses. "The baby who grew up to destroy the Time Masters."

The words put his hackles up, even though he'd been expecting them. "Not going to apologize…"

But the older woman holds up a hand, shaking her head. "I do not expect you to, Mr. Snart. Yes, you were the one to pull the trigger, as it were, and you nearly paid for that with your life. I do not think you understand just how close that was." She watches him calmly, something uncanny in her own blue gaze. "But the ultimate instrument of their demise was the device they themselves created to control time, and time…does not like to be controlled."

After a moment, she rises from the desk and Leonard, despite himself, takes a step back. There's something that formidable about her. But Mary doesn't approach him. Instead, she leans on her desk, almost matching his own posture, and continues to watch him.

"Perhaps Michael has told you these words; he always liked them," she says. "Time wants to happen. The hand of Time is on you, Leonard Snart. You did its will and you have nearly drowned in its currents—but you survived. Not many can say that."

The words make the feeling of electricity in the air, which had faded, worse. Leonard, unsettled, responds as he often does to discomfort: by attacking. "You're saying something else pulled my strings. Time itself? You expect me to believe that?"

She ignores the adversarial tone "Hmm. Not…quite. What you did, you did because you are you. You acted according to your nature, as Michael does his…as everyone does, really."

"That seems to be a theme, lately," he mutters, which, oddly enough, makes her smile.

"Does it now?" Mary muses. "Something to pay attention to, then. I've learned that when such things seem to reoccur, there's usually reason."

So has he, actually. Len frowns as he watches her, thinking about the conversation he'd overheard.

"You want Hunter to recreate the Time Masters," he says suddenly. "That's what you're waiting for."

She doesn't even bat an eyelash. "Yes. They…something like them…are needed. And there are always children, like the ones here, who will need and suit such an avocation."

The woman before him seems to care for her charges, but knowing what'd recently become of some of them—at his own hand—makes Leonard uneasy with the matter. "You'd have him keep kidnapping kids to turn into…"

But Mary draws herself up and regards him, and her expression's intimidating enough that even Leonard Snart is silenced.

"Really, Mr. Snart? You can think of no reason, no reason at all, why a child might be willing, eager even, to be plucked from his or her life and brought here, where there is plentiful food and warmth, safety and learning?" She spreads her hands to indicate the Refuge, nodding at his expression. "Such it was with all the young ones here."

Lowering her hands, she smiles again. "Who knows? In another timeline, another world, you and your sister might have been Time Masters."

Now, that's a discomforting notion. Mary lets him struggle with it a moment, then shakes her head.

"But," she says, "you're needed where you are, being what you are. Someone who…pays attention. Who listens…" An arch look. "…and learns. And puts odd pieces together." With a sigh, she glances at the door through which her foster son had departed. "Michael thinks like a Time Master now. He probably always will. Dr. Palmer thinks like a scientist, as does Dr. Stein." A slight smirk. "And even Mr. Rory…he's a little more, well, 'out of the box,' as they say, but he's not a plotter, not a planner."

She takes a step closer to Leonard, who shifts uneasily under her steady gaze.

"You…now, you are," she says quietly. "Remember. Perhaps…perhaps they need someone who thinks like a thief. And Michael has apparently forgotten that. They need you."

Her smile, then, turns sad. "And in another timeline, you wouldn't even be here."

He does not like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

But Mary has turned away already, studying the shelves around them, the ones he'd been so intrigued by. "Do you know what these books are? Books and movies; I rather like the formats that let me keep them in physical copies rather than digital." She glances back at him, but barely waits for an answer. "They're stories. Tales of the myriad of ways human beings have conceived of and imagined traveling in and changing time. I keep them so the children know how their kind look at such things, about who knows? They may even get some good ideas."

Pausing, she runs a fingertip over some titles. " 'A Swiftly Tilting Planet,' " she reads. " 'Kindred.' 'The Doomsday Book.' 'The Time-Traveler's Wife.' "

Then, turning, she moves her hand to what appears to be a shelf in a bookcase full of Blu-ray discs. " 'Quantum Leap.' All the various Star Treks. 'Timeless.' 'Doctor Who.' " That one gets a certain mysterious smile, as she looks over her shoulder at him. "Ah. 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.' A fine film, in its quirky way. 'About Time.' 'It's a Wonderful Life.' "

Len's started to retort that that's not quite time travel when the woman lets her hand drop to her side and shakes her head.

" 'Strange, isn't it?'" she quotes, watching him. " 'Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?' "

The silence stretches…and Leonard, suddenly, fervently decides that he doesn't really want to know.

And it hasn't escaped his notice that Mary had said "how their kind."

"So," he drawls, straightening from his lean, "keep paying attention? I can do that."

Mary Xavier, smiling faintly, returns to her desk, taking a seat and watching him. "Excellent. I will see you and your cohorts at dinner. Do try not to get the children too riled up."

Leonard takes a step toward the door, then pauses. Glancing back and thinking, he then turns and walks quickly over to the bookshelf where Hunter had paused earlier. Where…ah.

Sliding the battered copy of "A Wrinkle in Time" from its place, he slips the book into his jacket and looks up.

Mary beams at him.

"Now, that, Mr. Snart," she says, sounding pleased, "is precisely what I was talking about."

Sara and Kendra are, Jax tells him, giving a group of small girls self-defense lessons out on the Refuge's lawn. Leonard strolls slowly toward then, unable to hide a smile as he sees Sara hunkered down and talking earnestly to a pale-haired mite who might have been her 25 years ago.

She sees him and grins as the kid runs off to the others, then makes a show of looking him up and down.

"You know," she tells him, "we're showing them how to take down a bigger opponent. Even a grown man. You'd make an excellent practice dummy."

Len winces. "Given that I have a pretty good idea how you're showing them to do that, I think I'll pass," he drawls, looking over her shoulder. "Kinda wish there'd been someone to show Lisa how to do that sort of thing. I taught her to fight dirty, but you could have taught her a lot better as a kid." He shrugs at the momentary sympathy in her eyes. "Having fun?"

"Yes, actually." She looks thoughtful, turning to follow his gaze. "This is something I could see myself doing someday. Owning a dojo, I mean, and teaching women and kids how to defend themselves. When time travel gets old. In the future."

…what the future might hold for me…and you…and…

"Yeah, I could see that in the future. Not for me. For you," he adds as she glances up at him. "I mean, you're good at it. Not that you're not good at time travel…I…"

Damn it, I sound like Allen…

"Leonard Snart, flustered. Cute." Len takes a step back and looks up to see Kendra watching them and tossing a staff from hand to hand. A smile hovers around her lips, and he's suddenly downright frightened of what she'll say, what insight she'll point out that he's not quite ready to acknowledge. He takes a quick breath, readying something snarky to cut her off, and…

There's a very distinctive brooch on Kendra's sweater, something unique that catches his eye not only because of that distinctiveness…but because he's seen it before.

"What's that?"

The dark-haired woman blinks at him, then looks down at her lapel and smiles, a fond and gentle expression.

"From my Secret Santa, apparently. It was in my room after I got breakfast this morning," she says. "It's appropriate, isn't it?"

"Very." There much be something off about his tone, because both women look at him a little suspiciously. Leonard takes a hasty step back. "Have fun with the little assassins. See you later."

He thinks he hears a giggle as he beats a hasty retreat. He doesn't stop to find out.

Mick is, completely unsurprisingly, in the kitchen. He is also, somewhat surprisingly, reading. And very surprisingly, wearing the reading glasses that no one else on the Waverider has ever seen. Len ducks his head to steal a look at the title of the book, then barks out a laugh. It's the second half of the Doyle Sherlock Holmes stories.

Mick rolls his eyes at his friend's amusement. "Yeah, yeah. You were right. They're good."

"Told you." Len reaches out and drags up a chair, turning it around backward and perching on it. "Maybe now you'll listen to me about..."

"Don' push yer luck."

Len lets it go. "Ol' Saint Nick get you that?"

"Nah. Found it in the library." He peers over the rims of his glasses. "You think they'd let me borrow it?"

"Was a day you'd just steal it."

"Nah. My luck, all the books in this creepy-ass place'd be cursed."

"Still," Len drawls, leaning back, "I see you made a really nice pick-up in Chicago."

After a moment, Mick peers at him again, then tucks a (clean, Len hopes) napkin in the book's pages and sits it down, leaning back himself. "Seemed right."

"Indeed."

"You got some sorta problem with it, Snart? Didn't get caught."

"Not at all. Like I said…new pick-up. Right from the coat belonging to Capone's mistress? Sweet." Len inspects his nails with studied thoughtfulness. "Carnelian scarab, enamel wings—hawk wings?-marcasite and glass. At an educated guess. Excellent example of the Egyptian Revival pieces of the 1920s."

At another long moment, Mick grunts. "Just thought it suited her."

"Oh, it does." Len tilts his head to the side. "What's going on there, Mick? You pick her in this Santa thing, or was it just a whim?"

"Oh, I did. But I'da taken it for her anyway." The bigger man eyes his friend. "What's it yer business, anyway?"

"Just curious. What's going on with you two?"

Unexpectedly, Mick snorts. "Why? What's goin' on with you and Blondie?"

It's unexpected, from that source, and Len recoils. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I…we're friends." There was a time he wouldn't have admitted to having anything so vulnerable as a "friend."

"Friend, eh? Well. So are we." He shrugs at Len's expression. "We talk."

"Seriously?" He barely knows Kendra, really. Of all the denizens of the Waverider, he probably knows her the least. After all the mess with Savage and the thing with Carter—and Raymond, for that matter-he'd been slightly nonplussed when she'd seen the so-called "Hawkman" settled in 2017 and come back to the Waverider, explaining that she needed to have a life—at least one-as something other than someone's mate.

Len respected that decision, although it'd led to some awkwardness on the ship, at least in the beginning. He's not a fan of Raymond, though he's come to grudgingly respect the man (not that he'll ever admit that out loud). They're too different. But Kendra's phrasing had made even him wince in sympathy. After a few weeks of puppy eyes around her, though, the inventor had apparently decided to be cheerfully upbeat about the whole thing, and if anyone suspected he felt otherwise, they allowed him the illusion.

"Yeah." Mick gives him a flat glare, then sighs. He looks, for a moment, like he's pondering his words, and that's rare enough that Len remains silent, letting him think.

After a moment, he nods to himself, then looks directly at his oldest friend.

"She gets it," he says finally. "Look, Snart. She gets somethin' you never will. Not 'cause you wouldn't try, not 'cause you're dumb or anything like that." His lips twitch as Leonard snorts.

"But…I got millennia in my head, Snart. And yeah, I know I don't talk about it much anymore. But…it happened. It's there, all those years. An' Kendra, she gets that. She's got 'em too."

He's silent while Leonard digests that, turning it over. Acknowledging its truth.

"OK," Len says, finally. "I get that. Best I can, anyway. Not that it's my business…"

"It ain't."

"…but…you two a thing? I mean…all that soulmate crap…and Raymond…"

That gets another snort from Mick, but this one's rueful.

"Don't know that it's like that," the big man says after a minute. "But if it is, if it goes there…it ain't some big, serious thing, like she had with Haircut. It's nothin' that's gotta end with broken hearts or dead bodies, like she was told. Might just be a bit of fun, an we'd keep it real quiet. Ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"True."

Mick eyes him a moment, then nods. "We good? Done with this?"

"Fine by me."

"OK, then. And you and Blondie?"

A pause. "Don't, Mick."

"Boss…"

"Don't."

The rest of their brief stay at the Refuge passes quickly. Len avoids Mary Xavier, but every time he hazards a quick glance her way, she's seemingly uninterested in him, talking earnestly with Rip or Raymond or, at one time, a wide smile on her face, Mick.

Still, he's the first one back on the Waverider, breathing a sigh of relief as he sets foot on the deck, and he breathes another sigh as they take off and enter the time stream. He feels Sara's eyes on him, considering, and even Mick's, but he doesn't comment. He wouldn't be sure what to say anyway.

Rip finds "A Wrinkle in Time," neatly wrapped, in his quarters the next morning, and scans his team's faces with an air of pleased bewilderment before settling in to read.

Over the next few days, Jax gets a sheaf of manuals and diagrams for various timeship varieties, and starts happily going through them and talking to Gideon about possible upgrades. Kendra requests, fervently, a few more bathrooms, and winks at Len when she sees him watching.

Raymond gets a Star Trek script signed by George Roddenberry—it's personalized, and Len eyes the only one on the ship who could have obtained that-and gleefully tries to drag everyone into a Star Trek marathon.

Mick gets a bottle of wine, a particularly fine cabernet, and Len laughs out loud when he realizes it's from Rip's collection. (Stein smirks at him.) Mick, not a wine person at all, is skeptical, but only until Stein, waxing eloquent about the vintage, pops the cork and pours them both a glass.

The wine in the collection starts disappearing faster after that.

And Len finds a package in his own room and, cautiously, unwraps it.

It takes him a moment to realize the rectangular item is a picture frame, folded so that the two photographs in it are face to face. He opens it, and stares in silence at what it contains.

Lisa. Age 9 or thereabouts, he'd guess, right about the age she'd been on the Waverider, when the Pilgrim had threatened and they'd been forced to rescue their loved ones, an event that'd been hard on everyone, but some more than others.

Jax and Raymond, he's pretty sure, had it the worst. But Lisa…she'd been so young, and still had so much, for better or for worse, ahead of her….

She's laughing, right out loud, in the left photo, an expression of joy that he can't remember seeing, ever. Captured on one of Gideon's cameras, so far as he can tell, no fear or trepidation in her face.

He has no photographs of her at that age; when he left the house on Hadley Avenue, he'd taken almost nothing with him, and he'd never gone back.

Correction: He'd gone back once.

The opposing photo is a larger, better copy of a tattered snapshot he'd had tucked in his desk, grown Lisa and grown Len, glancing at each other, their expressions showing, if not affection, than at least a form of camaraderie. Mick had taken it, almost by accident, trying to figure out how to use a camera they'd needed for a job, and Len had found it when developing the film.

Keeping it, bringing it, had been sentiment. Something that, until fairly recently, he'd tried to banish from his life.

Only two people besides himself have ever seen that photo.

"Gideon…"

"Yes, Mr. Snart."

"…never mind."

Notes:

1. Kendra’s brooch:

https://www.langantiques.com/egyptian-revival-sterling-silver-scarab-brooch.html

2. Mary Xavier is totally a Time Lord. (Fight me.)

3. I’m SO tempted to write an AU in which the Snart siblings were taken to the Refuge when young!

#secret santa #captain canary #sara lance #leonard snart #legends of tomorrow

7 notes · View notes

twopoppies · 7 years ago

Photo

I got a fic request from one of my followers to give her a list of Larry fics with “a touch of art, medicine, and/or magical creatures".

It got awfully long mostly because I love magic fics, so I’ll put the recs under the cut. Also, I’m ashamed by how few Medical fics I’ve read! 🙈 Anyway, I hope you find some you enjoy!

Magical Creatures

May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home by loadedgunn

Harry thought he had a handle on things. He hasn’t gotten papped in over a month, even the most zealous of fans have given up on finding his location, the Fortress is starting to look hospitable, and Niall just learned how to make shrimp bisque. Even having a massive crush on a gorgeous mythical woodland creature was working out for him.

Most of the time.

On March 31st, Harry Styles disappears. Though many speculate, only two people know where to find him: Niall, his former guitarist, and Zayn, who follows where Niall leads.

The fact the biggest boy band in the world broke up two weeks earlier might be related to the disappearance. The fact Harry meets a fairy named Louis in the woods is a whole other matter.

(Liam is a centaur.)

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore @mediawhorefics

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Coax The Cold by MediaWhore @mediawhorefics

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

The Devil You Know by Awriterwrites @a-writerwrites

Harry walked slowly to the door, an eerie sense of déjà vu rolling over him. “Who is it?” he called out through the varnished maple.

“Can Harry come out to play?” The voice on the other side of the door was light and airy, musical, with a raspy edge.

Louis.

Harry felt his pulse race a little before he found words. “Harry’s not home right now.” He smirked.

There was a pause and then a light tap-tap-tap on the door, right at Harry’s ear. “Bullshit.”

**** Louis is a vampire. Harry is probably too curious for his own good.

Waiting On You by emma1234 @lads-laddylads

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

love is divine by stylinsoncity ( @alienproof )

Being a witch doesn't help when it comes to unrequited love.

as we move slowly by snsk

"You know what color your wings are?" Harry asked conversationally, on his stomach at the tattoo parlor, while Louis played absentmindedly with one dangling hand and flipped through some designs.

// Alternatively: Louis grows wings. Harry is the only one who can see them.

Domestic Monsters (series) by @g-uttertrash

Harry is a witch from a long line of power, an ancient line that’s one of the strongest left alive in their hemisphere. He can cast spells without a word if need be, fly on a broomstick, and has a black cat (a kitten, really) named Felix that is his animal familiar. He can shape galaxies in his cupped hands and can destroy them just as easily. He can choose exactly how to use his power, for encouragement and support, or for more nefarious causes if he wishes to.

And as fate would have it, he’s scared of haunted houses.

(Harry is a witch who carries around a stuffed pumpkin, Louis is a vampire with too much time on his hands, and their best mates Zayn & Niall aren't exactly what they seem...

I Will Never Rust by stylez

What was Harry meant to say? Yes Louis, I’d date you. I want to make you come repeatedly so that must mean I have a thing for you yeah? No. Because it doesn’t mean that, because Harry refuses to get attached to anyone he wants to fuck.

Harry wants to suck more than just Louis’ blood but Louis refuses to sleep with Count Dickula.

Among The Humans by @the-cheshire-pussy-cat

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

Creatures of the night come with more trouble than they wish to make it seem.

finding you was hard (but loving you is easy) by togetherwecouldbealright

An incredibly shameless vampire!AU filled with stupid jokes, endless dates, flappy bird, a bro man dude pal sleepover thing and there also might be some sex in strange places.

Also known as the one where everyone is a vampire, Louis is oblivious and somewhere along the way it becomes a bit too much like Twilight.

Then a string of thoughts make themselves clear in Louis’ head. First, Harry is a vampire. Second, Louis is a dumbass. Third, Louis is also unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. Fourth, he’s pretty sure he just quoted the back of the Twilight book.

We’ve got the world in our hands by sarcasticfluentry

A mutants/superpowers AU. Louis and his friends attend the Cowell Institute for General Education and Mutant Training in London; when Louis meets Harry, the newest student at the Cowell Institute, he immediately recruits Harry to help play matchmaker for his friend Zayn. Harry and Louis are so caught up in meddling in Zayn's love life, though, that they don't notice that their own friendship is progressing into something more. Meanwhile, an ominous threat up north grows slowly until suddenly, no mutant - or human - is safe.

Magic

because I don’t know that many magical creatures fics, but these ones are magical and are so good as well!

ain’t had none like you in a while by istajmaal

It kind of sucks that instead of using time travel to go back and kill Hitler, Simon Cowell chooses to use it to get his clients to advise younger versions of themselves. Sixteen-year-old Harry's not bitter, it's just that his relationship with Louis was complicated enough before he saw him with hot dad hair.

One day to believe in you by mediaville

A mysterious force compels Louis to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even when it's really inconvenient.

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised. "You think about me when you get off?"

"Yes," Louis says. He wonders how hard he'd need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out.

"Often?"

"Yes, Christ, Harry," Louis groans. "Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I've been visiting family. Anything else you'd like to know?"

the bearded stranger by @juliusschmidt

Harry wakes up to a bearded stranger in his bed.

(Make You Want To) Scream by @lululawrence

While Louis' left hand plays with his nipple, his right reaches down and wraps around his dick and that's when he really knows something is wrong.

The dick in his hand does not feel like his own.

like a boomerang by @youwill

AU in which Harry gets trapped in a lift, Louis gets stuck in a Wednesday, and it's always February 2nd. Until it isn't.

I’ll Know My Name As It’s Called Again by pukeandcry

Louis wakes up in Harry's body. This is a problem for several reasons.

the impossible now by stylinsoncity @alienproof

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

Come Along With Me by darkofthenights @jimmytfallon

"A little magic can take you a long way." — Roald Dahl or An AU where Harry is a magician and Louis doesn't believe in such a thing.

Fugue by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry falls asleep a 17 year-old who lives in Cheshire and is probably rockstar Louis Tomlinson's biggest fan. He wakes up 24 with a wedding ring on his finger, two kids, and Louis Tomlinson attempting to wake him up with a blow job. The doctor calls it organic retrograde amnesia, says he might never get back the last seven years of his life. The only thing that feels the same is how he feels when Louis touches him, and maybe that's enough to make him fall in love all over again.

You Are The Blood by sarcasticfluentry

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Temporary Tattoos, Hotel Hearts, Horizon Homes by Teumessian

Louis is just 18 and ends up in 2015 for one day at Harry’s request, one day to make sure his spirit is strong and hopeful enough to take him to the X Factor and end him up where he’s supposed to be. Aka, the one where Harry makes sure Louis knows how amazing he is.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream by togetherwecouldbealright

“Alright, alright. No need to bite,” Harry says, holding his hands above his head in a general gesture of surrender.

Louis quirks an eyebrow and his foot nudges Harry’s as he moves to sit straight. “If that’s what you think biting is, you’ve got another thing coming, Styles.”

Harry blinks at him before he feels his face flush and inside the marrows of his bones there’s pulses of heat, pulses of fire spreading through him. “Is that a threat, your Highness?”

“That’s a promise,” Louis answers just as the car halts to a stop. “One I intend to keep.”

Harry is a journalist with a lot of secrets and Louis is the future king of the United Kingdom; they live together for 60 days.

Art

I included one where the art involved is writing/poetry because the fic in question does such a lovely job of discussing art as a concept that I just couldn’t resist...but otherwise, I only included ones where the art referenced is painting/drawing etc. I’m sad that I don’t know more!

Little Technicolor Things by @tekhnicolor

Louis is a poor writer and recent university graduate, depressed, anxious, and living in London when he meets Harry, an artist with a secret who likes to paint sunrises and pretty boys from California.

I would name the stars for you (I would take you there) by impetuous

"Harry Styles is a poem waiting to happen, Louis thinks, eyes tracing peach flesh and the undercurrent of blue veins. He wants to write him all down, to capture the image of green eyes and red lips and skinny wrists... dark ink spilled across the page."

Or a vaguely Notting Hill-like AU (or that made for TV Disney movie Starstruck if you’ve seen it… no? Just me?) starring popstar!Harry and bookkeeper/soulful poet!Louis; and including guest appearances by Fate, a wise elderly aristocrat, and lots and lots of pining.

Starry, Starry Night by xxSterre (WIP)

Artist AU based on a tumblr prompt by youngandmadeof.

AU where Harry’s getting a degree in fine arts but he’s always envied street artists their freedom and the thrill coming from illegal activity. One day, he notices a particular graffiti and decides to paint into it. Louis does graffiti. One day, somebody starts messing with his murals.

Medicine

why do I only know one?

Lonesome When You Go by 13ways @13ways-of-looking

Harry, Louis, Niall, and Liam are surgeons-in-training at the most prestigious program in the United States.

More than that, Harry and Louis have a history unknown to the others, a history that involves dogs and God, anatomy lessons, food fights, vinyl jazz records, and one hell of an oyster tour.

A story of trust and friendship, of poetry and rock and roll, pink-tinged dawns and the darkest nights.

A tale of portraits, tattoos, and everlasting love.

Edit: How did I forget you @afirethatcannotdie?

Do Not Go Gentle

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

#mine #larry fic rec

150 notes · View notes

thepsychicclam · 8 years ago

Note

Hi love! What would you say the top ten sterek fics you've ever read are?

This was REALLY HARD. Mainly bc it’s hard to choose only 10. Because I’m leaving off some great fics (which is why there are more than 10 on here :3)! And some I get mixed up bc I read them so long ago and near each other. (You can always browse my fave fic list here) But I’ve narrowed it to this list. These are the fics that really left impressions on me. They’re all amazing and deserve to be read and loved!!! So…have a TOP 27 FAVE STEREK FICS list :DDDD

1. Cry Havoc by ladyblahblah

In Beacon Hills, the two-year war that’s been raging between werewolves and hunters has begun spilling over onto the civilian population. Meanwhile, in Boston, when the tattoo on Stiles Stilinski’s back is damaged on a late-night hunt he begins to have dreams that lead him across the country, drawn by an inexplicable conviction that he’s needed there. When he discovers that Derek Hale began the war after his mate was killed, Stiles finds himself being offered a strange deal: figure out how to bring the alpha’s mate back, and peace talks can begin.

2. Where the Inevitable Isn’t by Survivah

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that’s supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn’t in the same universe anymore.

“A part of Stiles had been thinking that he’d come home, and just go, ‘hey, Derek, are we mates and you just haven’t said anything about it?’ and Derek would reply, 'now you mention it, we are indeed! Now come to my bedchamber, where we will have super hot sex and then cuddle after!’”

3. Pack Up; Don’t Stray by the_deep_magic

AU – Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinski’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

4. Our Memories Are Numbered by rufflefeather

Stiles’ Jeep grinds to a halt, he sees someone running through the rain, he’s not expecting it to be Derek. He’s not expecting a Derek without any memories either, or an Alpha pack that’s coming for all of them. He probably should’ve, because lately nothing goes the way he expects.

5. Ad Astra Per Tentaculum by morganoconner

Space contains a multitude of different species, and Derek has seen and helped a lot of them in his time taking down branches of the slave-trade organization. But this is the first time he’s seen an Aloshrivnik. It’s not the tentacles that draw him in; it’s the goddamn eyes that stare at him without backing down.

“Stiles,” it says to him. “My name is Stiles.”

6. Part of My Melody by hayesgeneration

Derek is a professional classical musician who has found himself lost without a muse, without goal and without even a hint of spark. He’s almost settled nearly contently (if not slightly unwillingly) on having to live his life as a recluse, when his sister finally grows tired of his antics, giving him a Christmas ultimatum.

7. Littlest Alpha by triedunture

Derek and Stiles have taken out the Alpha Pack and pretty much saved the world. Okay, the town. Okay, their remaining friends. But the Alphas left something behind: a baby. And this baby is an Alpha too. Derek is determined to take care of the abandoned child, and Stiles is stuck going along for the ride.

But Stiles doesn’t expect the ride to include seeing another side of Derek, or to find another way to say “family.”

8. Holding Your Own Weight by zjofierose

Stiles Stilinski is the best trapeze artist west of the Mississippi, but that doesn’t do him much good without a catcher. Enter one quiet roughneck who calls himself Derek and knows maybe a little too much about circus arts for someone who was hired to schlep tents. But Derek has his secrets, and so does the new girl, Allison. Who’s being hunted and who’s being haunted, and will Stiles ever be able to convince Derek to help him fly again?

9. And You Say You’re Alone by taelynhawker

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter’s untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

10. DILF by twentysomething

“Today is Scott’s first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified.”

Okay - so here are some other favorites that I COULDN’T LEAVE OFF because they’re also my faves I just have more than 10???

11. Make us laugh (or nothing will) by rohkeutta

When Derek Hale left Beacon Hills at 18 to become a kickboxing champion, he thought he would never return. But here he is, seven years later: trying to salvage something from the ruins of his life, eighteen months after the house fire that killed his parents and left him limping and without a future. Enter Stiles, a college dropout Derek might or might not have been friends with in high school, and the unexpected interest he manifests towards the love of Derek’s life.

12. Caged Humanity by ember

The other factors sounded like complete bullshit. Like about Companions having certain dispositions for submission, and a personality built around wanting to please. Fuck that, Stiles was a strong independent man who didn’t need no wolf. Submitting was straight up taught in classes. Don’t talk back, try to reason not argue, never run away when your Mate was in heat. Mate? More like owner. There was a reason Companions were called pets. God Stiles hated it all, the hypocrisy. It was an honor? More like a life sentence.

An AU where werewolves are given humans as pets called Companions, and a very begrudging Stiles is taken in by Derek Hale, much to both their displeasure. And then pleasure. Very, very sexual pleasure.

13. Ain’t Nothing So Good as the Cake and Eating it by sofonisba_found

Derek thinks he’s doing alright in life, with his family at his side and a job he loves. Despite his family’s concerns he remains adamant that he doesn’t need a mate, afraid to take the risk of letting anyone close enough to try to hurt his family again. That is until he realizes that his true mate has been right under his nose for years, and that now through his inaction he may lose him.

14. The Boy and the Beast by dsudis

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

15. The Moon’s Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

16. Sell Your Body to the Night by dsudis

“No,” he repeated impatiently. “I’m not a cop. I’m someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work.”

“I, uh, yeah, sorry,” Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up–the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. “Yeah, I am. I do that.”

17. Constantly on the Cusp by alisvolatpropiis

Stiles is gay, out and proud, and a Beacon Hills deputy. Derek is a firefighter and war veteran who thinks he’s straight; or, Derek and Stiles have lots of semi-public hatesex on the road to Love.

18. Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by venis_envy

Stiles can’t remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he’s there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.

19. Important Things by suzvoy

Stiles learns that even with werewolves, giant lizards and psychopathic hunters on the loose, life can still find other ways to screw with you. Case in point: everyone keeps assuming he and Derek are a couple. What the hell?

20. According to Plans by eldee

Five times Stiles and Derek pretend to be boyfriends, and the one time they didn’t have to pretend at all. (Or: in which Stiles’ plan for senior year is completely ruined by a supernatural creature stalking him.)

21. The Road to Self-Actualization is Littered with F-Bombs by blue_fjords

It’s Stiles’s final Spring Break of his college career, and he’s got plans to do a whole lot of nothing. But Derek has other plans for him, and before he knows it, Stiles is joining Derek to go undercover at a couples’ retreat in a bid to catch a ring of thieves. It’s the world’s most perfect plan! Nothing could possibly go wrong!

22. In This Twilight How Dare You Speak of Grace by secondstar

Zombies. Stiles always knew the world would end this way.

23. Time to Begin by triedunture

Stiles learns some heavy-duty magic, and Derek convinces him to send him back in time to fix all the mistakes he’s made. But Derek ends up making things worse, and Stiles has to think creatively to save him. And everyone else, including their younger selves.

24. Losers by stilinskisparkles

Where Derek is new to college, eager to spend his time learning, and Stiles is everything he didn’t want in a room mate. He’s loud, he’s into sports, and he keeps trying to make Derek do things.

Or, the one where Derek falls for a jock, Erica will cut you if you disturb her studying, and Jackson is a closeted romantic who pretends to hate everything.

25. That Unfortunate Situation by 74days

Derek Hale, 3rd Duke of that name has an unfortunate run in with the young Baron of Stiles - accusing the young man of being a fortune hunter. Regency Romance meets Sterek.

26. Reach Out by weathervaanes

Or, In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice…With the Same Person

-0-

Stiles sees the flyer on his very last day at Beacon Hills High School. It’s hanging, unassuming, in the hall near the front entrance along with bulletins and other flyers, advertisements, posters for free student concerts, but the fact that the word “sex” is written in a font two times larger than the rest of the page catches his attention.

It’s an advice hotline for a whole range of things, from teenage angst to how to deal with your parents telling you you’re adopted and a whole mess in the middle. Stiles thinks it’s funny, though, that they offer advice on sexuality and sex education. It makes sense on the one hand, since high school sex ed does jack shit for actual learning, but anyone who really wants to know stuff has an infinite source of knowledge right on their phone—the internet.

So it starts off as a joke.

27. Between Men and Lions by standinginanicedress

“I thought we could be friends,” Derek offers, to which Stiles gets an odd smile on his face.

“Friends,” he repeats, an odd inflection.

“Yes, friends.”

Stiles laughs, just barely. It’s more of an exhalation of breath than it is genuine mirth or anything else, and then he smiles. “I’m pretty good at friends,” he says with a tilt to his head, and Derek clears his throat and has to look away.

#sterek #eternalsterek #fic rec #sterek fic rec #sterek fic

2K notes · View notes