#and seeing powder play second fiddle to everyone else

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 3

AN: Okay so I know things are going a little slow paced at the moment but I promise things will start to pick up over the next few chapters. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: It’s the last day of the tournament and Benny feels bad about what happened the previous night 

(PART 1) (PART 2)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 3,493

Warnings: Some unwanted touching here at the beginning in italics, some drinking, none really

A hand glided up from your knee along your thigh. The fingers felt rough against your skin and your stomach twisted into a knot as the touch went further up your leg. You tried to move your leg away but his fingers dug into your skin keeping you there. 

“Don’t play hard to get now...” 

You gasped loudly as you shot up from your pillow. The cold air hit your lungs like a flood as you struggled to catch your breath. 

It was 5am. 

You were covered in sweat.

You stared into the darkness ahead of you, eyes wide open with any feeling of tiredness gone. 

Your hands shook as you reached for the light switch, turning it on before jumping out of your bed to open the curtains. 

The sun was barely rising outside. 

Your nightie clung to you awkwardly due to the sweat so you headed into the bathroom, stripping of it. 

You didn’t look in the mirror as you turned on the shower. You hated the way you looked after the dreams. You always looked like a ghost. 

Not that you had had the dreams for a while now. 

You took your time in the shower, you had brought your portable radio into the bathroom so you weren’t left alone with your own thoughts.

You hummed quietly to the songs that played on the early morning station; you closed your eyes and tried to picture that you were showering in your old apartment in France with Angelie making morning coffee and croissants in the kitchen.

It brought you some sense of calm. 

When you finished in the bathroom, the sun was rising. You took a moment to admire the colours in the sky before sitting down at your dresser to apply some make up and dry your hair. 

As your eyes found your reflection, you sighed. You reached across for one of your powders and a brush before turning the music up to stop thinking about the day ahead. 

It was early enough for you to be one of the first in the restaurant for breakfast and so you found yourself nibbling on bagel with some coffee in your other hand. 

It was the last day of the tournament. 

Benny Watts vs Victor Miesser. 

Once you grew tired of picking at the bagel you went ahead to the games room where only one table was set up ready for the final match in the afternoon. 

You looked down at the board, picking up the white queen which you knew would be Benny’s later. 

“Don’t be tampering with my chess pieces because I pissed you off last night.” 

“Little early for you, Mr Watts?” You didn’t even need to turn to know who had come in. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He admitted, walking up beside you to look down at the board himself. “Found myself thinking what an ass move it was to just burst into somebody’s hotel room and start rummaging through their private belongings.” 

“Oh really?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling a little at his attempted apology. 

“Really.” Benny nodded, “So, I figured I’d find the girl I so rudely vexed and apologise.” Benny sent you a side glance which you returned.

“Apology accepted on the conditions that he doesn’t do it again and agrees to a photograph for the magazine.” You felt as if you should apologise too for the way you handled it the previous night but you fought against it, he was the one in the wrong after all. 

“Conditions accepted.” Benny held out his hand and you waited a second, smiling, before you took it. 

“Perfect.” You dug into your bag and pulled out your camera. “If you could sit down? Now would be the perfect time for a photograph since no one is around to distract you.”

“Distract me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Benny furrowed his eyebrows at you, chuckling as he sat himself down. 

You rolled your eyes at the man and decided not to answer as you checked the lighting for the photo. 

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of shoots before so if you could just relax the shoulders a little and look at the camera as you sit beside the board.” You directed him as he shifted in his seat. 

“Like this?” Benny asked with a smirk as he rested his elbow on the table beside the board. 

You took the photo. 

“Now look down at the board like you’re focusing on a hard game.” You tried to ignore his playful tone as you photographed him. 

Benny switched to link his fingers below his chin and stare down at the board. 

“Great.” You stepped forward and lifted the brim of his hat slightly your with finger. Benny’s eyes looked up as you did. “Sorry.” You muttered before stepping away again. 

“One more if you don’t mind.” You asked as you picked up the queen. 

“If you just prop your feet up on the corner of the table and lean back into your chair.” You gestured to the table and Benny did as he was told. “Now, hold this and look at it like this.” 

You held the chess piece with your thumb and index finger above your head so it was tilted. Benny seemed to smirk again as he took the piece from you to copy the pose. 

You snapped a few more shots before allowing him to relax. 

“Thank you. It’s more likely I’ll get the first few pages if I have a decent photo to go with the piece.” You explained, tucking the camera away. 

“And here I thought I’d make the cover.” Benny stood up from his seat, straightening his jacket. 

“I can’t make any promises I’m afraid. This’ll be the biggest piece the magazine has allowed me to write yet.” You confessed, pulling out your notepad and pen. 

“You're telling me you left Paris of all places to write pity pieces and small town coverage for Chess Review?” Benny raised his eyebrows at you, seemingly surprised at your decision. 

“I’ll work my way up eventually. I always do.” You shrugged your shoulders, paying no mind to his judgement.

“I don’t doubt it.” Benny replied. 

“I saw you in Paris last year, you know.” You tried changing the topic onto him so you could try and get some more questions in for the interview. 

“Really?” Benny asked, 

“I mean I wasn’t paying too much attention to you since I was writing a headline piece on Borgov but I saw you. No one can stick out like sore thumb in aa chess tournament quite like Benny Watts.” You admitted. 

“I’ll try and take that as a compliment.” Benny laughed lightly as he fiddled with the top of the chair he was leaning on. 

“Well you are constantly praised for you twist on the ‘regular’ chess player with your style and your hair and your knife...” You couldn’t help but point to the holster on his hip. 

“What’s wrong with that?” He asked, looking down at his knife then back up at you.

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “I was wondering Mr Watts since I have you here now, we could finish off that interview?”

You watched Benny check his watch before taking a minute to decide. 

“Alright but only if we go someplace else. It’s too stuffy in here.” Benny agreed, pushing off the back of the chair and walking towards the exit. 

“Outside?” You suggested. 

You both walked side by side outside the hotel then down into some gardens where you found an old small concrete bench to perch on. 

“Shall we continue from where we started?” You asked, getting your prepared questions out. “Ready?”

“Ready.” 

“Mr Watts, you recently stated you were here because of Beth Harmon. When was it she first caught your eye as a potential competitor?” You asked, 

“I guess it was just like everyone else. Once it got out that she defeated Beltik at such a young age and at her very first tournament, I think she grabbed everyone’s eye in the chess world.” He admitted, looking out across the green as he spoke. 

“Do you believe she could beat you for your US title?” 

“I think we’ll have to see how it plays out when I finally get to play her.” Benny seemingly almost found the question amusing.

“Where are you playing next? Do you know?” You crossed off questions you’d already asked before as you spoke. 

“I try not to play too many opens nowadays but I like the practise. The US open will roll around again soon which I’ll be heading too. I tend to go to events where I’ve been invited or I feel like attending. It’s not necessarily planned.” Benny held out his arm, pushing straight line with hand to signal him looking into the future. 

“And what about Europe?” 

“I like playing in Europe. I get invited from time to time but the jet lag really gets me sometimes.” Benny started, “Off the record, how come I haven’t seen you in Paris before if you’d seen me?”

The question took you back for a moment as the flow was now interrupted. 

“There’s a lot of reporters in Paris, Mr Watts. It’s no surprise to me that you didn’t notice me.”

“It is to me.” Benny towards you, leaning on his hand with his finger on his chin.

“A girl can be easily hidden in a crowd full of men, Mr Watts.” You felt your heart start to race as Benny stared at you. 

“Anyway, back to the questions...” You tried to shake it off. “Is there anyone in your life at the moment, Mr Watts? Someone else you like to play chess with?” You almost cringed at the question but you knew the female readers would eat it up. 

“Are you asking for you or for the magazine?” Benny smirked. 

You sent him a look which only made him laugh. 

“No, there’s no one at the moment. Only a few of the guys in New York who like to play speed chess with me just to lose their money.” Benny’s joke made you roll your eyes but he could tell it was lighthearted. 

“And final question, Mr Watts, how does it feel being the undefeated champion in the United States?” 

“It feels great. But I’m looking forward to some new competition. You can only play Victor Miesser so many times.” Benny took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. His blond locks moved with his fingers and a small strand fell back down to his eye.

“Be careful what you wish for, Watts.” You let it slip out as you watched the man.

Benny started to laugh again. 

“I didn’t–––” You went to apologise when he cut you short. 

“––It’s true. One day someone will probably beat me.” 

You closed your notepad and tucked your pen away as you nodded your head, not knowing how else to respond. 

“What are you doing after the tournament?” Benny asked you. 

“I’ll probably stay here in the hotel for a couple of days, get the final draft written then typed up then sent off to the magazine along with the photos. By then they should have another spot for me to travel to and if not then I’ll return to my flat in Massachusetts. My recent tenant just moved out so I actually could stay there for once.” You explained, hooking the hair out of your face as the wind picked up. 

“Massachusetts?” Benny cocked his eyebrow. 

“Yeah. I bought the flat just before I decided to leave the US, rented it out during the years I was in Paris. I had someone new living there for the past 5 months but they recently moved out. I’m never usually there so...”

“Why Massachusetts though?” Benny folded his arms over his chest and crossed his ankles as he leant back.

“My Mom grew up in Greenfield, Massachusetts. She always loved the countryside, the forests when it was fall were her favourite anywhere we went really. I live in Boston though, Greenfield was a bit too small town for me.” You explained, smiling as a memory resurfaced of your mother diving into a pile of yellow, auburn and brown leaves. 

“You know Boston isn’t that far from New York. If you change your mind about that chess game, I don’t hate the idea of company?” Benny suggested, his eyes searching your face for an answer. 

“I don’t think so, Benny.” You rose from the bench and smiled down at the man. 

Benny smirked at the use of his name instead of ‘Mr Watts’. 

“Good luck for this afternoon. Perhaps I’ll see you at another tournament soon.” You dismissed yourself before Benny could try and persuade you to come to New York with him. 

You spent the rest of the morning sorting your notes together and clearing up your hotel room before the afternoon game went ahead. 

You had taken your film to be developed whilst you were watching the game so it’d be ready in the evening.

You watched Benny dominate Miesser in less than 20 moves and then you watched Miesser strut off in a strop. Another loss to the Benny Watts.

You were amused by the fact that Benny didn’t even seem to break a sweat or show a single crease in his forehead. He really did find it all too easy, didn’t he?

You applauded with the rest of the onlookers before disappearing to take your notes on the game upstairs to write it up again in short form so the readers could see the game through the piece. 

You went ahead to pick up the prints before dinner and you were impressed with your own photography skills. 

Benny was extremely photogenic there was no lie in that and you couldn’t help but admire the photographs due to your own skill and his attractiveness. 

You put the photos up in your room along with the pages you had before heading for some food. 

You were famished and you knew the restaurant would be quieter due to the tournament ending that day. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” One of the hosts approached you as you neared the restaurant entrance. 

“Yes?” You replied. 

“Mr Benny Watts has requested you join him for dinner.” He guided his hand towards one of the back tables where Benny was sat alone for once.

You were hesitant to join him but once he had spotted you there was no turning back. 

“Mr Watts?” You greeted him, still confused by his invitation. 

“(Y/n).” He stood when you approached the table which was something you hadn’t expected him to do. “I felt like my apology earlier wasn’t exactly a great one so I figured dinner would be a good alternative.” 

“You really didn’t have to...” You started, sitting down opposite him. 

“How’s the article coming along?” He ignored your objections as he too sat back down.

“Fine.” You stated. 

“Just fine?” Benny smirked, looking up at you from the menu in front of him. 

“Yes.” You said as you picked up your own. 

There was a silence. 

“How old were you when you first played Chess?” Benny asked out of the blue. 

“Five.” You told him. “I wouldn’t say I was any good. My father taught me but I know I first picked up the pieces when I was five.” 

“And how old were you when you decided you weren’t good enough?” Benny’s words felt like ice to your warm cheek.

“Seventeen.” You told him honestly. 

“Seventeen.” Benny repeated what you had said. “Seventeen is awfully young to be deciding you weren’t good enough.” 

“I had been playing years by then–––”

“––It sounds like you gave up to early.” Benny folded his hands together as he placed his elbows on the table. 

“Are we going to discuss my playing chess all evening or shall I just eat elsewhere?” You were tired of the constant questions. This man didn’t know you. You didn’t need to explain yourself to him. 

“Sorry.” Benny held his hands out almost in surrender. “So, Boston?”

“Or discuss me being close enough to visit New York to play chess with you.”

Benny chuckled quietly. 

“What is it about me, Benny Watts?” You asked him honestly. Why was he so interested in your chess playing after one weekend of knowing each other?

“I don’t know.” Benny confessed, “Curiosity, I guess.”

“Well, Mr Watts...” You sipped on the cocktail just put in front of you, “...Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Maybe it’s the fact you’re one of the first girl reporters I’ve seen cover Chess before.”

“I am the only one employed at Chess Review.” You didn’t know why you told him that but you did. “Journalism is a more cut throat industry than you’d expect, Mr Watts.”

“I could say the same thing about Chess but being a reporter you already know that.” Benny leant back in his chair now, waving over a waiter so you could finally order some food.

“I know too well.” You chuckled weakly. 

You both ordered some food and you let Benny talk about himself which he did with ease. 

He mainly spoke about Chess openings, ones he favoured, ones he disliked, who he had read recently and what changes he had made to his play over the past couple tournaments. 

You were thankful he didn’t try interrogating you again.

After you finished eating you left the restaurant together. 

“Me and some others who are still here for the night are gonna have a few beers and play some speed chess, wanna join?” Benny asked, pointing behind him to the bar area. 

You went to open your mouth when Benny stopped you. 

“And before you say anything, no you don’t have to play, you can just watch.” 

“Tempting.” You admitted. 

“Then say yes?” Benny urged you, already taking a step backwards towards the bar. 

“Are you always this pushy, Benny?” You couldn’t help but let a smile cross your lips. 

“Uh, yep.” Benny bit down on lower lip, his hands on his hips as he answered.

“One drink.” You gave in, following the man into bar where a table of speed chess was already being played. 

When Benny approached the table, one of the seats freed up for him and Benny offered you a seat beside the table so you could spectate. 

You ordered yourself a drink and took it with you to the table so you could drink and watch. 

You were immediately mesmerised by the speed the players could go and within mere minutes Benny had won his first round, taking five dollars off his opponent. 

“You know, Benny, you might want to take it easy or people won’t actually want to play you anymore.” You told him with a smirk on your face that made him smile. 

You stayed longer than you expected to. One drink turned into three or four and it was late by the time Benny ran out of opponents. 

Benny walked with you to the elevator then up to the floor you were both on. 

You were tired and the alcohol had given you a warm buzz. You leant against the wall of the elevator with your eyes closed and a sleep smile on your face. 

“Come on, it’s our floor.” Benny held out his arm and you wrapped your hand around his bicep to help you out of the elevator.

He walked you up to your hotel room door and you found your key to go inside.

“Night Benny.” You murmured as you stepped into your room. 

Benny leant in the door way, his hand gripping the pane above him as he watched you walk over to your bed. 

“Goodnight Miss (Y/L/N).” And with that, he leant in to take the doorknob and closed the door. 

When you woke up in the morning you weren’t in your nightie but your underwear. You must've just stripped last night because you were so tired. 

You heard a knock on your door but you groaned and rolled over onto your stomach. Covering your head with your pillow. 

There was another knock. 

You waited a second, gaining the energy to stand. 

You slid on your robe and trudged over to the door. 

You opened it to see no one outside but down by your feet was a stack of three books with a note on top of them. 

You picked them up and opened the folded bit of paper. 

I’m going back to New York. Read these then call me. – B.W.

You looked through the books he had given you and the one right on the top was his own. You shook your head smiling down at the boy on the cover. 

You peered forward, looking down the corridor to see no one but the housekeepers. 

You stepped back inside and reread the note.

Call me – B.W. 

(PART 4 HERE)

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[peach-pops]

Amorentia || Kuroo Tetsurō

summary: amorentia has a different scent or aroma for anyone who smells it and the potion, if done correctly, can remind the user of things or more specifically someone they find most attractive, even if the said person is oblivious in their attraction. 

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none 

authors note: i dont know why i always end up writing for kuroo but this dude just speaks to me on an inspirational level ya know? kuroo is a ravenclaw in this but the reader is gn and i didn’t specify what house the reader is in to make it a bit more inclusive. credits to @rhymewithrachel​ for the picture of kuroo which you can find here and pls check out their page for more amazing art! also i def feel like i’ve written the last few lines on like another piece i’ve done but oh well if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it

The library was eerily still for a Thursday morning but you relished in how quiet it was. You had found the perfect sweet spot; not too late where you would forget breakfast but early enough to where you would avoid the morning rush of students who would try to find a quiet spot to study. 

The lowly lit lanterns were useless since the sun was beginning to peak its way through the windowpane behind you and the small semblance of light drew your attention to the dust that was floating lazily in the air.

Even though there were hardly any students around you, you felt as though you were tucked away from the world as you spread your legs out against the leather couch with a Magic Potions: Basic for Beginners textbook settled in your lap. Besides the ever so often sound of a few students rustling their papers, it was truly peaceful. 

“ Good morning beautiful, mind if I join you?” 

Bloody hell. 

You looked up from your textbook to see Kuroo standing over by your legs that were neatly crossed over each other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly taken aback by seeing him so early in the morning but even if he did manage to wake up on time for class, his hair was still a disheveled mess from his horrid bedhead. 

“ You’re up early,” You replied normally as you turned your attention back to your book,” by the way, your tie is crooked, might want to fix that, yeah?” 

You and Kuroo were both in the same year but you two didn’t officially get acquainted until your fourth year when he had “accidentally” spilled butterbeer all over you and then attempted to wipe it off with his bare hand. 

“ Shit, I-I am so sorry! Let me just-”

“ Can you stop feeling me up and get me a napkin instead, you creep?” 

“ A creep? I’m nothing short of a gentleman- speaking of which, are you dating anyone by chance?” 

“ Are you joking? As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself.” 

Your vow was fully ignored and by some weird alignment of the planets, you two had been inseparable since. Of course, Kuroo still spent his time over the past two years trying to woe you in some way and while you used to find yourself flustered over his charm, you managed to get used to the constant flirting between the two of you. 

Who were you kidding, the flirting was mostly one-sided unless you weren’t exhausted trying to think of witty comebacks to try and get him stumbling over his words like the first time you two met. 

However, you weren’t blind. You were bold enough to admit to yourself that over the years, Kuroo got progressively wittier, taller, and yes, possibly more attractive. You would never admit it out loud but there was a slight possibility you were starting to see him in a different light.

Nonetheless, you figured feelings like those would just come and go, and surely you didn’t actually have feelings for him. 

Kuroo looked down at his tie and shrugged nonchalantly before fixing it,” I was tossing and turning all night, poor Akaashi had to sleep in the common room because I was keeping him up too. Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon and I’m hoping we can get a strong team together so we can keep up our legacy.”

“ First-year as captain and you’re already nervous,” You clicked your tongue against your teeth as you took another bite of your raspberry scone, utilizing the silence between the two of you as you finished chewing,” hopefully Ravenclaw will get some wins this year. You know, for your own sake and my sanity.” 

“ Okay ouch, first of all, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the library it’s forbidden,” Kuroo crossed his arms playfully over his chest as you only hummed in response,” and second of all, maybe if I had someone special cheering me on, I would do immensely better.”  

You knew he was only being smug since you always showed up to his games but nothing was more entertaining than watching Kuroo practically gush over Quidditch only for you to act somewhat disinterested. 

“ Aw, do you want me to show up with some blue and bronze paint over my face? Maybe even bring a poster with your name on it with little hearts decorated on the border because I have sooo much free time on my hands?” You teased as you played with your hair while pouting back up at him, relishing in the way he shifted from side to side,” honestly Kuroo, you know I have better things to do than to watch you fly around like a lunatic.” 

Kuroo smirked to himself but said nothing to retaliate as he offered his hands to help you out of your seat once he saw the time,” Come on, you know Slughorn will throw another fit if we’re late again and by the looks of it, you can’t afford falling behind.” 

For a moment, you thought that maybe you had gone too far. His response was almost disappointing in contrast to how he would usually retort with something wittier of the sort but it was out of your control now. 

You closed your textbook and grabbed Kuroo’s hands so he could help you off the leather couch but once he got you up to your feet, his strong grip on your hands didn’t release. 

Your chests were almost touching and the distance between you two was so small, you could distinctively smell his signature vanilla aftershave that he put on every morning. You looked down at your hands that were fitted perfectly against his as Kuroo leaned down close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“ Don’t act so coy, Y/N. I know you would love nothing more than to wear my jersey so that everyone else could know you like me.”

You could feel the heat rise from your chest to your ears as you slipped your hands out from his to hold your textbook to your chest, as if it would cool you down. You fiddled with the spine of the textbook as a distraction as Kuroo smiled back innocently at you to give you time to compose yourself. 

“ D-Don’t say things like that, you’re my friend and that’s all,” You stammered as you slapped his shoulder to make the tension less thick,” and wipe that grin off your face, you look like an idiot!” 

Kuroo laughed, easing whatever tension was left in the air as he bumped your shoulder with his, “ Fine, fine, I’ll stop but only because you’re my special friend.”

“ You’re the worst.” 

“ And you love it.”

“ Are you sure we’re doing this right?” You asked Kuroo as he sprinkled in the powdered moonstone while you stirred the concoction slowly. 

You surveyed the room as you watched your fellow classmates fail miserably at the assignment at hand, some being greeted with thick clouds of smoke while others potions just combusted into flames. 

You flinched at the sound of shrieking and looked up to see Sugawara and Daichi backing away from their cauldron as a mass of black tar started to slither out towards them. Slughorn had warned everyone that this potion was tricky to master but you didn’t think it would be this difficult and as time passed, the more anxious you grew. 

Kuroo, as unbothered as ever, looked down at the instructions for a moment before turning his attention back at the cauldron,” Yep, triple checked it and everything. You sure are nervous today.”

“ I’m always nervous during this class, you know I’m awful at potions. Plus look what happened to Oikawa, he’s in the hospital wing because of this lab.” 

“ He’ll be fine, the flames weren’t too high, he probably just lost an eyebrow,” Kuroo teased, trying to keep your mind at bay,” are you sure you’re not nervous because we’re concocting Amorentia?” 

You continued to stir the mixture carefully as you only scoffed,” Why would I be nervous of a silly little love potion?” 

“ First off, Amorentia is one of the most powerful love potions in existence so show some respect,” Kuroo said as you only rolled your eyes back at him,” And second of all, maybe you’re nervous because this will finally prove that you have feelings for me.” 

“ Knock it off before I send you to the hospital wing nerd,” You replied hastily as Kuroo put his hands up in defense,” Are you sure you’re not the nervous one? You’ve been acting weird since class has started...like more mouthy than usual.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve gone the whole lesson completely oblivious to Kuroo’s nervous tics, but after years of being friends, you knew better than to pass them off as normal tendencies. 

Kuroo rubbed the corner of the textbook page between his fingers as his eyes read the directions over again to try and ground himself in his thoughts. He had re-read the same step of the last instruction for the past couple of minutes to look occupied but his facade was starting to fall apart. 

“ If you paid more attention to the assignment instead of me, maybe you would pass the class, huh?” Kuroo smirked to try and ease your mind but the action only made you feel more annoyed. 

“ Enough with this back and forth, are we almost done? You’ve been reading the last step for a while now, is it that hard or are you just stupid today?” You nudged Kuroo out of the way and bent your body over the table to read the last step, wanting nothing more than to get this class over with. 

Kuroo watched as you began to stir the concoction slowly, his eyes trained on the top of the cauldron to watch for any sign of steam. 

“ What color are the spirals supposed to be?” You asked as a dark, pink-colored steam started to slowly rise from the mixture,” did he say pink was right or purple? Maybe red I don’t even remember.” 

Kuroo carefully leaned closer beside you to get a better look at the steam,”Looks right to me. You smell anything?” 

“ The only thing I can smell is that god awful aftershave of yours so back up.” 

You leaned your forearms on the table and took in a deep breath of the potion. Almost instantly, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body that started in your chest and moved all the way down to your head and toes. You felt your body completely relax and it felt almost similar to the feeling of submerging yourself into a hot bath after a long day. 

It would make absolutely no sense to describe the scents as something so oddly familiar and distinct while not being obvious at all yet that was where your headspace was as you tried to identify the scents. 

Almost immediately, once you pinpointed one scent, the rest came flooding in one after another,” I smell something like cinder-a burning logfire...and....I know what this is it’s kinda like- oh, broomstick polish!” 

You took into another deep breath to try and identify the last scent but you couldn’t put a name to the scent which only made you more frustrated. 

“ Kuroo, can you help me? I can’t figure out the last scent,” You sighed as Kuroo closed his eyes to take a turn, even though he could already pinpoint a few scents from his spot,” do you smell the logfire too?” 

Kuroo only smiled to himself as he felt the warmth spread across his body before shaking his head,” That’s not how it works. Our scents would be different for example, I smell…freshly clean linen, old parchment paper, and… butterbeer froth.”

Once the words left Kuroo’s mouth, he opened his eyes and turned to you to read your reaction. He looked for something, anything behind those eyes of yours to watch it all click in your head but as usual, you were completely oblivious to the huge hint he had given you. 

“ Lucky you, I wish I could smell what you can- this is harder than I thought,” You pouted as you noticed some of your other classmates were getting distracted by you and Kuroo’s Amortentia,” maybe we did this wrong.”

“ We did it right, don’t worry,” Kuroo cleared his throat as he gave you a nudge with his shoulder which only made you nudge him back even harder,” maybe you should try again, think really hard. Try to see where you recognize the scent instead of what it is.” 

You closed your eyes and just like before, the same warm sensation flooded your body but this time, you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer to the cauldron, almost as if the potion was pulling you in deeper. 

“ Burning logfire, broomstick polish and…” You took in another deep breath but you were only meet with more frustration,” for the last time, can you give me some space, Kuroo? I swear all I can smell is your-.” 

You opened your eyes and practically pulled yourself away from the table once an unsettling realization had started to develop quickly in your mind. You knew exactly what the scent was but there was that lingering sensation in your mind that still tried to convince itself that for once, maybe you were wrong. 

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh as the back of your neck and ears began to grow hot,” Something the matter-”

Without thinking, you grabbed Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down to your eye level. Kuroo’s face started to grow red as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck to get a better smell. You had to be going crazy, there was no way- it all had to be a trick. 

“ Are you sure we did this right? You’re absolutely positive?” You asked softly as you let go of his collar. 

Kuroo smoothed out his collar and nodded as he looked back at the cauldron,”I’m absolutely positive- why are you freaking out?” 

Because I smell your stupid vanilla aftershave. 

“ I’m not freaking out,” You lied through your teeth as you turned your attention to Slughorn as he dismissed the class for the day,” You know what, I’m actually not feeling well- Can you clean up for me? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“Y/N-”

“ I’ll see you around,” You gathered your things quickly but as you reached for your potions book, Kuroo snatched it off the table and held it behind his back,”enough Kuroo, give it back.” 

“ Clean linen, parchment, and butterbeer froth,” Kuroo listed as you tried to grab your book from behind his back but Kuroo was quick to hold it above his head,”did you hear me?” 

You looked up at how high he was holding your textbook and as embarrassing as it was, you decided to hold on to the little dignity you had left and not jump up and down for it. 

“ Yes I heard you but I don’t care.” 

“ You do care and you’re not listening to me. I smelled clean linen, parchment paper, and butterbeer froth so now it’s your turn, what did you smell?” Kuroo asked, this time a bit louder. It was obvious in the way he was enunciating his words that he was trying to lead you down a certain conversation but you were slow to pick up on it. 

You didn’t want to tell him, all you wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend as though this day had never happened. The idea that all this time you actually had real feelings for Kuroo only made you feel flustered. 

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of liking someone like him but for years, you had convinced him and seemingly everyone else that you would never have feelings for Kuroo. In reality, you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“ Do we have to do this right now?” You asked softly as you nodded over to Slughorn who was dusting the corners of his desk but it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation. 

Without missing a beat, Kuroo nodded and lowered your textbook back down to hand it to you.

“ You’re right, we should discuss this someplace quiet and private, how does dinner sound?”

You shook your head at the boy as you tried to grab your textbook from him but you couldn’t pry it off his strong grip,“ Quit flirting with me, now isn’t the time.” 

Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore; the years of endlessly flirting and being ignored was taking a toll on his pride and he couldn’t stand it. He knew you were prideful but this was on a whole different level.

“ Now is the perfect time since now I know you like me after all.”

“ How- I do not-”

“ You’re a terrible liar Y/N, the aftershave was a dead giveaway and I don’t know whether or not I’m more hurt by the fact that you’re too embarrassed to admit you like me or that you think my aftershave is god awful,” Kuroo said as he loosened his grip on the book so you could take it from his hands,” aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t have feelings for me?” 

You carefully took back your textbook as if it was a fragile vase and held it close to your chest as if you were shielding your heart. 

“ For the record, I don’t think it’s god awful, I just think you put on way too much,” You mumbled as Kuroo stood up straighter,” and I’m not tired of pretending, maybe I don’t like you or maybe I do have feelings for you.”

“ But maybe you like me more than you dislike me, am I right?”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it after thinking his words over for a moment,“Emphasis on maybe...but don’t let it get to your head. You get one date so don’t ruin it.” 

Even though it wasn’t the confession Kuroo wanted, it was the only confirmation he needed to hear from you to let him know that the feelings were mutual. 

Kuroo couldn’t help but wear a huge goofy smile on his face as he collected his things and followed your lead as you both started to walk out the classroom. You and Kuroo politely nodded and said goodbye to Slughorn, who was pretending to read the textbooks along the shelves. 

Once you two left the classroom, Kuroo’s hand slide down beside yours and started to play with your fingers carefully. Your hand recoiled from the feeling but once you made sure the hallway was clear of any onlookers, you let your hand slide back down and let his fingers intertwine with yours. 

“ You know, I knew you really liked me, I called it since day one-” 

“ Okay, that’s enough Kuroo.” 

“ You said and I quote,’As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself’ and look at you now, holding hands with one!”

You shook your head at him and wondered to yourself if this is how things would be now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to hide the small smile on your face,”You’re the worst.” 

Kuroo squeezed your hand in his and shared the same lovey-dovey grin on his face,” and you love it.” 

taglist: @goopyartiste​, @sugas-sweetheart​, @kirislut​, @estridries​, @hannahalanib1​, @art0saurus​, @shoutamajiki​, @yee-harr​, @animatedarchives​

[mostly-delusional]

A Kanej diwali fic

"That's the third time you've tugged on your sleeve in the same minute and it's setting me on edge for no particular reason."

Kaz halted his movements, his right hand hanging in mid-air as he was about to fiddle with his sleeve, unrolling and rolling it again. He glanced at Jesper standing beside him and raised his eyebrows.

Jesper continued, "Honestly, Kaz, it's only been a month since you last saw her. It shouldn't be that hard. Besides, you're going to need a lung transplant soon enough if you keep panting like a dog."

Kaz was thoroughly annoyed. He had been occupying the same spot for what felt like hours with Jesper's continuous babble ringing in his ears. The black leather gloves that usually covered his hands were safely tucked away into the pocket of his jacket. Without them, he felt as if he was stripped naked, all his scars put on display for people to gawk at. His clothes were different from what he preferred wearing. The regular white shirt had been replaced by a plain black kurta with a pathan jacket resting above it, the collar of which prickled his neck. The cane's head felt cold under his palm. Everything felt too foreign, too loud and too wrong.

The glittering lights, lavish rugs and sophisticated folk of Ravka were far cry from the sordid streets of Ketterdam, where crimes were committed as effortlessly as breathing. Everything about the land Kaz stood on screamed of elegance and culture. It made him want to hop on a ship and dive back into the mayhem the Barrel had to offer.

Crossing the true see and visiting the land of Grisha hadn't been a choice. Two weeks ago, Kaz had entered his office in the crow club only to be greeted by an envelope sealed with the double eagle of Ravkan royalty. He had contemplated tossing it among the pile of documents he deemed unnecessary, but a blue geranium placed beside it had changed his original course of action. There had been no whispers of the Wraith being in Ketterdam, but it was not a surprise. Inej was like a phantom passing from one world to another, keeping away from notice.

Although, why she had been the one to deliver a message from the king of Ravka was still a mystery to him.

Kaz did not know what he had expected to be in the letter but it definitely wasn't what he had found upon opening it. Apparently, things were getting a little too boring for his royal highness and he felt the need to organise a little "get-together" for all those who had dedicated the previous months in fighting against the Darkling. As it turned out, nothing about the occasion was little.

A multitude of people occupied the halls of the Little Palace for what everyone around him kept calling Diwali. Kaz remembered Inej talking about how she celebrated the festival with her parents and cousins as a child. But that was all he could recall from the day because he'd been too busy trying to count the moles on her neck as she had sat on the window of his office, her head tipped back against the wall. The setting sun had casted a glow around her and Kaz had been unable to look away.

"Where's Wylan?" Kaz asked in hopes of avoiding another rant from Jesper about how exquisite the palace looked or how much money even a single gem from the chandelier hanging above would cost. "Why don't you go and trail after him like a lost puppy, as you usually do?"

Jesper puckered his face into a scowl, his lips forming a pout that made Kaz want to smack his face repeatedly. "You shouldn't be the one to talk about puppies seeing that you almost drool at the sight of Inej. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"If both of you would stop bickering like an old couple, you would have noticed that she entered the room five minutes ago."

Every single muscle in Kaz's body seemed to tense at Nina's words. His eyes scoured the crowd in desperate attempts of catching a glimpse of the one person he'd been dying to set his sight on.

"Let's give the old man some privacy to collect himself or he might drop dead any second." Kaz could practically feel the identical smirks playing on their lips as Nina dragged Jesper away by his arm.

But none of it seemed to matter because as soon as he saw Inej, it felt like someone pumped a gallon of blood through his heart all at once. The voices around him were muffled, separated by an invisible wall, casting him in a shell of peaceful silence as he looked at the girl who raged a storm in his heart ever since she had entered his life.

There, amidst the cacophony of colours formed by the crowd, Inej looked like a diamond shimmering among shards of glasses in a kaleidoscope. Her hair was like waves of pure earth. Half of it was braided over her head like a crown, the rest openly flowed down her back, softly reflecting the light from the chandelier above. His fingers itched to touch them.

She wore a long skirt which was a red as deep as the most luscious wines found only in the highest scale shops of the Lid. It pleated in a million different folds sure to hold a dozen knives, and fell from her waist in a cascading waterfall that brushed her ankles. The pleats danced along her legs as she waded through the sea of guests, occasionally nodding at those she recognised. It appeared as if she hadn’t yet noticed him standing at the border of the hall.

His heart screamed at him to call her name, to make her look at him, but walking under the glittering lights, it looked as if she had just stepped out of a children's storybook about Saints. Regardless of how ridiculous it sounded, he felt that she would disappear if he got close enough. Her eyes were set on her destination— Jesper, Nina and Wylan standing near a table piled with a variety of delicacies. A soft smile played on her lips as she looked at Jesper arguing with Nina about what was better— waffles or the sweets layed out in front of them.

Kaz wanted nothing more than to shield her from the rest of the world and reserve that smile solely for himself.

Stupid Jesper. Stupid Nina. “Let’s give him some privacy.” What was the point of leaving him alone when Inej didn’t even spare him a single glance?

A part of him wanted to march right up to their little group and place himself in the middle, but his stubborn mind willed him to stay put. He watched as they exchanged hugs and smiled at each other. He watched as Inej asked Jesper something and he spinned around to point right at Kaz’s face. He averted his eyes right in time and hurled curses at Jesper under his breath.

Every passing second seemed to escalate his heartbeat, as if both were trying to outdo each other. His heart hammered against it’s cage, threatening to break free from the restraints and bounce off onto the floor. Kaz could sense Inej’s firm gaze on him as the distance between them shortened with every step she took.

"Hello, Kaz."

Inej had come to stand right in the line of his sight so that he had nowhere else to look apart from her. And saints did he want to keep looking at her.

Kaz let his eyes take in every detail of her face. Her bronze skin had become an even deeper shade after all the time spent at the sea and he wanted nothing more than to cup her face in his hands, caress her cheeks and make sure she was real. Her eyes were lined with kohl and some kind of golden powder covered her lids.

In those brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, the laughter of childhood memories, the pride for what she had accomplished in the last few months alone, and there was affection. The way she looked at him made him feel like a broken vase being mended by that gaze alone.

He knew he was supposed to say something to her. Tell her that she looked beautiful. That ever since she had stepped foot in this room—in his life— he had hardly been able to breathe. That if she had willed it, Kaz would have gladly gotten down on his knees and swore his devotion to the saints she now looked so alike. But his mouth and mind never seemed to coordinate.

"Didn't expect I'd see you here." A lie. The only reason Kaz had even considered being a part of the celebration was that he knew Inej was staying in Os Alta to spend some quality time with Nina and Matthias.

From the smile on her face, Kaz suspected she knew he was lying but to his immense relief, she decided to change the subject.

"The aarti is about to begin, let's go." She nodded towards the huge double doors opening into the sweeping grounds and the groups of people leaving through them.

"To my best knowledge, there isn't a temple in or around the Little Palace."

"There wasn't. King Nikolai got one built after Zoya insisted." Inej adjusted the golden dupatta pinned to the shoulder of her blouse so that it covered her palm. With her hand safely enveloped, she grabbed hold of Kaz's wrist and started heading towards where the temple was situated.

The warmth emanating from her palm seeped through the thin fabric and sent shivers up his arm. The water was at bay and the ringing in his ears did not echo as usual. He could do this.

They walked through the doors and out into the open air. Kaz took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. A few paces ahead, the rest of the crows were chattering amongst themselves. Jesper's arms were flailing around as he babbled on about something. Beside him, Wylan was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation and trying not to get hit. Nina and Matthias walked arm in arm, the latter jerking his head in every direction, trying to catch a glimpse of all the decor layed out all around. Every few seconds he would point at something and whisper to Nina who would launch into an explanation of whatever he had asked.

"How is Matthias adjusting to all of this?" Kaz shifted his gaze back to the path he was walking on. Inej's hand felt heavy around his wrist, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted her to let go or hold on tighter.

"Not as bad as you'd think. He kind of isolated himself during the first week and avoided all the grishas, except Nina, of course. But it didn't take him long in warming up to Tolya." Inej explained. "However, he still refuses to be in the same room as Zoya, says it'll take him longer to get used to her."

"I can agree on that," Kaz muttered bitterly under his breath. His mind reeled back to the time when he had to work alongside her in order to help Alina destroy the fold.

Inej snorted on hearing his grumbling. "She's not that bad! Once you gain her trust she can be charming."

"I have no intentions of finding that out."

••••••

The temple was built amid the towering trees past the lake, it's white marble glowing amber due to the countless diyas lit all around it. It sprawled among the woods in its beauty, as if the gods themselves had decided to take a day off and stroll among their mortal devotees.

Walking up the steps to the main praying area was almost peaceful and Kaz was struck by the sudden realisation that he wouldn't mind spending an hour or two sitting right here in solitude.

A soft melody drifted from a group of musicians seated beside the huge altar where statues of gods carved out of marble stood. Bells crafted out of bronze hung from the ceiling and the entire interior was lit with hundreds of glowing candles and iron lanterns. Garlands of marigold wreathed around the circular pillars. A priest took his spot at the front of the room as people piled inside.

As the aarti began, Kaz's attention shifted to the girl beside him. Inej had let go of his hand now, her own raised in front of her chest as she joined her plams together to pray. His wrist felt cold without her warmth and he wanted nothing more than to slide closer to her.

His attention was snatched away from her by the beginning of the aarti, but he did not intend to pay any attention to it, not with Inej standing with him. Not with her being the only person he felt like worshipping.

But Inej seemed to have an objection to his plans because she reached out to lift his hands up and join his palms together.

"I know this is the last place you'd like to be in, but it won't take long, I promise."

And how could he resist when she smiled at him like that? Like his mere presence at this occasion was the only source of her joy. So his own beliefs be damned. He would stand here with his hands joined, listening to the priest begin the aarti. He would stand here until his legs started shaking, until he couldn't bear to be upright anymore, as long as it made Inej happy.

Soon, the prayer came to a close and Inej whispered to him, "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Wh—"

"Just do it."

He couldn't understand how his wishes would come true simply by closing his eyes and muttering what he wanted in his mind. That was not how things worked. But he did what was asked of him regardless of how ridiculous he found it.

Sounds of explosion began ringing from outside and Kaz froze in his spot, his mind automatically shifting into defence. He felt a hand grabbing hold of his arm.

"Relax, it's just the fireworks." Kaz opened his eyes only to find Inej looking at him in amusement, her eyes glinting with delight. With her hand still resting on his, she dragged him outside, her steps hurried and excited.

The sky was littered with colourful specks of gold and green and blue and colors he couldn't be bothered to name. Everyone gathered in the grounds, their heads tilted upwards as something rocketed towards the heavens, soon bursting into a myriad of sparks, casting tiny star-like dots in the open.

Once again, his eyes found her. Kaz's heart skipped a beat as he looked at Inej, her eyes reflecting the stars above. Strands of hair had gotten lose from the crown atop her head and were now swaying with the breeze. He reached out to tuck them behind her ear, his movements catching her attention.

They were close enough that he could see the deep brown of her eyes along with the twinkle of the fireworks reflecting in those orbs. Close enough to see the mole on the right side of her upper lip. Close enough to feel her breath on his face.

"Back in the temple, what did you wish for?" Inej asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twisted up to form a teasing smile. "To bury under a pile of millions of kruge."

Another lie, of course.

What he had wished was for Jesper to find a solution to his gambling addiction and learn to accept his grisha powers. For Wylan to restore his relationship with his mother and build a bright future for himself. For Nina to find peace with her new abilities, because he knew she was struggling. For Matthias to find a way to forgive himself for the actions of his past. For him to build a new life with Nina.

But most of all, he wished for Inej to make a place for herself in the world. For her to live a life where she didn't have to worry about the likes of Tante Heleen anymore. And for him to be worthy enough to be a part of that life.

Kaz was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not see Inej raising her dupatta and covering the lower half of his face. He didn't realise he had zoned out until he felt the warm press of her lips against his cheek. His mind became void of thoughts as he felt his stomach somersault in response. The water was still at bay and whispers of Jordie in his head were silenced.

He pressed his forehead to hers as they stood under the glittering night sky. They were enveloped in each other's presence, the rest of the world frozen in time as Inej tethered Kaz to reality.

[magalidragon]

n°2 - “Have I already told you how cute you look?”

Thank you fluff Queen!💕

Eeeee! Let us return them to all the world’s a stage with these sweet beans and our favorite douchy Uncle Viserys! Bonus points because I included supportive brother Vis!

2. “Have I already told you how cute you look?”

Romantic One Liner Prompts

There were many things Jon Snow had been able to escape, but this was not one of them. He could get out of red carpet events, interviews, and galas. He could weasel himself out of parent-teacher conferences, playdates, and other various responsibilities that he just felt like at the time were contrary to his mood, his muse, and his creative drive.

This was not one of them.

Dany knew he didn't want to escape the event itself, but the way in which he had to attend the event, that was something he couldn't get out of. He made a fuss, wanting to know how come he couldn't just go as a side character, as the supportive husband, what have you, but nope.

"Have I told you how cute you look?"

He scowled, tugging down the very tight white vest, with its shimmery silver thread, the white pants tucked into tall boots, and accompanying plastic sword. "Not in the last five minutes."

"Well you look so cute. My perfect Prince Charming."

"Mummy!"

She glanced down at her daughter, who was wearing the dragon costume, a bright jade and lime green creation, toddling towards her. She chuckled, kneeling and lifted her baby dragon into her arms, kissing Lyella's sticky cheek. She frowned, taking the lollipop from her. "Where did you get this?"

"Vizzy!"

Ugh, my brother. The villain himself, Sorcerer Dread the Night King-- redundant name-- happened to be hiding away, because he didn't want to be seen in the campy black and red costume of the villain from Princess Periwinkle. She plucked the lollipop from her three-year-old, wagging it at her. "No candy."

Lyella pouted, sticking her tongue out. "Mummy, not Charming."

Jon burst out laughing. "You're not charming!"

"No, you are not Charming." Her words were thick and she pointed, scowling at her father. "Prince Kit."

Dany's brows arched, countering her husband, whose mouth fell slightly. "Ha! She knows your character. You aren't Prince Charming, you're Prince Kit of Catesby. Get it right."

"He's a complete buffoon!"

"He's the comic relief."

Jon huffed, tugging at the tight pants, which conformed very nice to his shapely thighs and his even better arse. He'd forgone the codpiece, although she suggested it for later. He plucked at the spandex fabric, wincing. "Dany! They're going up my arse!"

"It's such a lovely arse."

"It's a children's hospital!"

She laughed. "Don't worry, I'm the only one looking at that bum." She walked by, smacking it and he jumped, but his pupils dilated, a low growl caught in his throat. Her voice dropped, whispering. "And if anyone else does they have me to deal with."

"Yes my Queen."

"Princess!"

Lyella was not wrong there; she was indeed Princess Periwinkle, in the lilac costume, with its yards of sparkling tulle, ribbons, and accessories, making her resemble a disco ball. She had gone all out this time, for the children's hospital's annual fundraising event, a worthy cause to return to Princess Periwinkle. And she managed to convince her husband, child-- that was not difficult at all-- and her brother.

She furrowed her brow. "Where is my brother?"

"Do we really care?" Jon wondered, taking Lyella from her. He sighed at his reflection in the floor-length mirror. "Best get on with it."

"The children thank you for your sacrifice, Prince Kit of Catesby," she laughed, pinching his bum on the way out the door and down the stairs.

At the base of the staircase, near the open door, Davos was waiting with Missandei. She posed for a few candid shots that her best friend took, laughing at the silliness of it all. She hopped off the bottom step, turning and hollered up, hands cupped over her mouth to magnify her voice. "Oi! Get your skinny arse down here Vis!"

"No! Not until I'm high enough!"

"I will come up there and drag you out myself and we both know who the real dragon is in this family!"

A door slammed somewhere in Vis's Wing of Darkness, where no one ventured unless they had all their shots and a death wish. He emerged from the shadows, glowering, his silver hair cut off and sweeping over his forehead in a new style that he'd only gotten because Leylla had found bubblegum and decided to play with it while he'd been passed out. Sadly, the silver tresses had had to go.

It suited him, the short hair, she thought, laughing as he descended in the red and black caped costume, resembling a magician rather than an actual villain. Lyella reached for him. "Vizzy!" she shouted. She simpered. "I love you."

"Ugh," he complained, but it was all for show. He shook his head, disgusted. "I cannot believe I am doing this!"

"Think of the happiness you will be providing to the children," Jon said. He closed his eyes, sighing. "Never mind, that would require you to have a heart."

Not that her brother heard him, as Viserys's eyes had glazed over, dollar signs obviously pulsing from them. He glanced between them both, salivating. "Oh, yes....I like this...I understand now...You both are going to do this on camera, right?"

"No!" they shouted.

Dany punched his shoulder. "It's for charity Vis, not attention. The hospital will put out a press release and some choice photos, but that is not the point of this. It's to provide these children a break from the fact they are locked in a hospital fighting for their lives." She grabbed his arm, pulling him to the door. "Even you can spare the single cell in your heart for that. Now come on, we'll be late."

They got to the hospital, which had already prepared a large room for the children, and she swept in, in full Princess Periwinkle, keeping her emotions at bay. Each time she saw the children, so many of them with visible signs of their illnesses and conditions, it broke her heart. It made her grateful every second for her healthy child and simultaneously guilty too, because her baby was healthy and these parents were going through her worst nightmare.

She pressed it down, taking in their gleeful faces, all of them forgetting where they were, because Princess Periwinkle had decided to visit. They were delighted to see her little dragon with her along with Prince Kit of Catesby, the two of them taking seats at the front, and she began to weave a tale, dramatically beginning: "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess, who only ever wanted to live a normal life, but alas, she could not, because this princess, well she was different..."

It was a childish telling of her story with Jon, one she'd come up with for the event, and she caught his sight, when he realized it, and beamed. He began to weave in his own story-- he was the true storyteller of them both-- forgetting that he hated actors and became one himself. Even Lyella joined in, crawling across the floor and pretending to 'rawr' when necessary.

And then Viserys jumped in, the villain, and everyone shouted and with the plastic swords they'd been given, attacked him and beat him back-- she failed to tell him that part-- concluding the harrowing tale with Princess Periwinkle donning the crown and wielding the Sword of Truth, vowing to always be herself, no matter what anyone thought.

"Because being yourself is the best happiness you can have at all," she ended, sweeping into a curtsey.

One of the children waved their hands, shouting. "But what about prince Kit? And the Princess?"

Jon swept her into his arms, placing a kiss lightly to her lips, half the crowd (mostly girls) cooing and the other half (mostly boys) gagging at the display of affection. His smile radiated pure joy at her. "And they lived..."

"Happily ever after!" everyone exclaimed.

Dany chuckled, accepting the second kiss her husband-- and her true prince-- dropped to her mouth. She picked up Lyella, handing her off so Jon could sign autographs as "Prince Kit" and caught sight of Vis, who was fussing with a makeup mirror in the corner. She furrowed her brow, concerned, and went to him, voice soft. "VIs? You alright?"

"Allergies," he said airily.

Her eyes widened, recognizing the shine in his lilac irises. He ducked his head away, sniffing and dusted his nose with powder. "Vis are you..." This has never happened before, what do I do? "Are you crying?"

"No!"

She laughed, reaching up and hugged him, ignoring his stiff posture until he relaxed into her. She kissed his cheek, murmuring. "You like to be the villain, dear brother, but you're really not. Maybe in another story, but not this one." She broke away, just in time for a photographer to come by and take a snap, of Vis still holding his arms around her shoulders briefly, the two silver-haired Targaryens smiling at each other.

That evening, after they had returned home, with Lyella fast asleep in her Uncle Vizzy's arms-- and photos taken to prove to Viserys that he did love his niece contrary to his protests-- Dany left them on the couch where they'd fallen, and journeyed up to her wing of the townhouse, discovering her prince was still in his costume, playing with the plastic sword.

She watched him a moment, until he saw her reflection in the mirror by the bathroom, and froze. "HOw long have you been standing there?" he demanded.

"Long enough."

He spun on his heel, smirking. He fiddled with the sword. "Been awhile since I actually wielded Longclaw, I was practicing."

She laughed, closing the door, and on a whim, flicked the lock. He arched his brow, a smile curving up slyly. "What are you doing Princess Periwinkle?"

"I seem to have lost my sword, perhaps you can help me find it."

"Hmm....I don't know where it possibly could be."

She tugged him by the belt, towards the bed, and laughed, falling backwards into the voluminous tulle skirts. "I think I have an idea, for your pants are so tight, my prince."

"I knew there had to be a reason for it."

"Let me help you with them."

"Oh thank you princess, I am most grateful."

Dany nipped his lower lip, giggling. "So show me."

[artificialqueens]

Don't Just Stand There Staring Honey (Try to Move Your Feet) (Taywhora) - Pinkgrapefruit

Georgie lets out one long sigh and lets her head fall back, dirty blonde hair falling onto the couch. “I. Need. A. Date.” She repeats, exasperated. “My friend is getting married in a few months and I need a date for the wedding.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

A/N -

for my love ortega.

may our clowning be long and prosperous.

*

It’s times like this when the flat feels too small. Tayce has just gotten out of the shower, water rolling down her calves as she pads down the hall to her room and she can see Georgie doing her Chloe Ting workout - laptop being played through the TV. She’s wearing these tiny little shorts that leave her surprisingly tan legs on full display and her sports bra can barely be considered a sports bra - it’s a wonder the people in the flat across the street haven’t said something.

They’d snatched this place up the second it came on the market - the wall of glass windows in the living room making the two-bed London flat feel bigger than it was (at the time at least). It had been the natural progression from their tiny box flat they’d shared for the last three years of uni.

After living on top of each other for three years, they’d felt like queens in their new place, neither of them sleeping on a pullout sofa bed.

They’d alternated (of course) though Georgie tended to whine if she wasn’t feeling the sofa bed so on occasion they’d both end up in the double bed. By the end, on occasion turned into whenever she was drunk, sad, lonely, uncomfortable, on her period or bored. For all her jokes, Tayce wasn’t really complaining.

She tears her eyes away from Georgie’s ass and hurries into her room before she soaks the hallway rug, too scared of the blonde’s temper to risk ruining another of her interior design choices.

She presses play on Spotify and lays the towel on her unmade bed, perching carefully on the edge before beginning to moisturise her clean-shaven legs.

*

“I need a date.”

“What?” Tayce yells, eyes fixed on Mortal Kombat but brain anywhere else.

“I need a date,” Georgie replies, perching on the arm of the sofa and positioning her tennis skirt in a way so as not to show her knickers - she never knows when Tayce’s videogame friends might be able to see her (she once flashed one of them and it’s not something she wants to repeat).

There’s a huff of breath from Tayce before she gives up and stops moving, allowing her opponent to kill her. She sets the PlayStation controller down and faces the blonde, confusion clear on her face.

“I repeat, what?” The softness of her welsh accent slips in at times like this - something that six years of living in London hasn’t quite been able to take away.

Georgie lets out one long sigh and lets her head fall back, dirty blonde hair falling onto the couch. “I. Need. A. Date.” She repeats, exasperated. “My friend is getting married in a few months and I need a date for the wedding.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

It’s a joke from uni about Georgie’s innate ability to find the one person in the club who’s only there for a shag (and then go home with them).

Georgie pouts. She bats her lash extensions and runs a hand through her hair, the other running down her thigh. She knows what she’s doing is flustering Tayce (that’s why she’s doing it) and really tries to play it up.

“They’ll just want me for sex though,” she whines, “They won’t get me like you.” She bats her lashes one more time and sees the exact moment Tayce melts, a pretty blush finally becoming visible.

“Just for you.”

Georgie cups a hand behind her ear, wincing as if she’s having trouble. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” she jokes and it makes Tayce bat an arm at her.

“I’ll do it for you Brat.”

The blonde bounces up, her tennis skirt flying up to show her lace knickers. “You’re the best!” She squeals before pressing a kiss to Tayce’s cheek, “Veronica will be so happy!”

*

“Have you finished in the shower?” Georgie calls from the hallway, snapping Tayce back into the moment.

“Is the shower still going?” Tayce shouts back sardonically and she hears Georgie hit her door on the way past. “Bitch.” She calls out before falling backwards onto her bed. She can see her outfit out of the corner of her eye and it twists her stomach in knots just looking at it.

It’s pretty simple, grey plaid cigarette trousers - a white shirt with red stitching and a matching suit jacket, but somehow it feels like Chinese handcuffs.

The telltale clunk of the waterpipes tells her that Georgie’s started her shower and she sits up again, feeling around on her bedside table for her hairbrush.

She goes through the motions of getting ready until Georgie is banging on her door again. She yanks it open, intending to say something cutting or at least sarcastic but she finds that it’s quite difficult to speak when your jaw is on the floor. Her’s certainly is.

Georgie’s dress is red satin with a sinfully high slit and her lipstick might just be the same shade of crimson currently on Tayce’s own lips. That might just be wishful thinking.

“Wow’” she stutters out, eyes trailing up and down. She gets caught on the wispy hairs that have come undone from Georgia’s chignon and has to catch herself because she wants to wrap it around her tongue and there isn’t enough time to unpack that.

“Wow, yourself,” Georgie says with a smirk, her tongue darting out between perfectly painted lips. She holds a hand out and Tayce gives her her forearm so she can walk the blonde out of the flat.

*

They blast Taylor Swift in the car, screaming the lyrics to Out of the Woods while on the A23. Tayce pulls them into the churchyard in Brighton and they both look at the amassing crowd with sighs.

“Damn baby, it’s like half your high school is here,” jokes Tayce as she touches up her powder in the fold-down mirror of the rental car.

Georgie smiles softly, “you don’t wanna meet half my high school,” she replies, remembering how she felt in the Nottingham public school system. She’s grateful, in a way, that Veronica’s new man is from Brighton so they don’t have to return to her hometown.

Tayce insists on coming round to open her car door and they stand arm in arm in front of the church for a moment before they go in. It’s closer to a cathedral than a church but from what Tayce knows, Veronica’s family could afford that. There’s a welcome sign out the front and it makes them both smile.

“Green and Blacks,” Tayce chuckles, “clever.”

Georgie looks at her and smiles, “Joe owns a coffee bar in Brighton and he hired her to sing one day,” she explains, finding the story sweet despite herself. Tayce gently sets her head on top of Georgie’s.

“Bless ‘em,” she hears Tayce murmur. She coughs quickly and they both straighten up. Just as she goes to fiddle with Tayce’s collar she smirks.

“Everyone thinks we’ve been dating for six months,” she whispers, rising up on her toes so her breath brushes Tayce’s ear.

If Tayce curses, Georgie doesn’t hear it. She’s too busy swinging her hips as she walks away.

*

“Tayceeeee,” comes a whine from the bathroom. None of the letters sound quite right but the meaning is there so Tayce puts down her coffee and slides a well-worn bookmark into an equally well-worn copy of pride and prejudice that she pretends she doesn’t read before hauling herself off the sofa in the direction of the bathroom.

“Georginaaaa,” she mocks back once it’s clear that nothing serious is going on.

Georgie has almost a full face of makeup on, sans lips and eyelashes but she’s still trying her very best to bat what she has. She’s sat on the counter, feet in the sink and toe separators on her feet as she finishes the final coat on her dusty pink toenails.

“Going out?” Tayce asks, a casual eyebrow raised and a soft smirk playing on her lips.

Georgie brightens up, “Astina and Bimini invited me out clubbing,” she explains animatedly. “I get to wear that dress I’ve been showing you but I want the rest to be perfect.

‘That dress’ in question is a slinky little number that’s been on the dress-form in Georgie’s bedroom/office/sewing room/dungeon for months. It’s baby pink and ruched and while Tayce doesn’t know any of the technical terms (she was not in the fashion school, nor does she claim she was) she knows it’s going to look gorgeous.

“Sounds fun,” she replies, though her tone is questioning and Georgie must pick up on that because she holds out a pair of flash eyelashes and an applicator with a smile.

“Can you put them on for me?”

They both know very well that Georgie can put on her own lashes - in the depths of the A’whora days, she wore them nearly every day and used to leave the house before Tayce had drunk enough coffee to feel alive. Nevertheless, Tayce leans forward, one hand holding Georgie’s cheek gently so she won’t move her head and the other hovering a lash over her eye. Her thumb strokes the prominent cheekbone under the soft skin and powder and Georgie’s breath flutters over Tayce’s pulse point.

The moment lasts forever but not quite long enough and Tayce leaves in a hurry, going back to Jane Austen and strong espresso.

She catches Georgie before she leaves, eyes trailing up and down her body appreciatively, though knowing Georgie likes her bike shorts just as much.

“For the love of god George please don’t fight anyone in the kebab shop - we’re running out of places,” she scolds, “And don’t get grumpy when you’re tired, save that for me - the girls won’t know how to handle you.” She feels like she’s wrapping a child up to send them to school but she just unlocks the door for Georgie and tells her that she’ll wait up.

Georgie pecks her on the cheek and leaves. Tayce turns the PlayStation on and tries to forget about the blonde in the pink dress grinding against half of London.

*

Tayce skitters across the gravel until she reaches Georgie, a hand wrapping around the satin covered waist as they queue to enter the church. She takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nose. She’s never been good with surprises.

Georgie notices (she always does), feels Tayce’s fingertips pressing into her ribs and gently removes the arm, intertwining their fingers instead so she can softly brush her thumb up and down Tayce’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, head falling against Tayce’s chest briefly. Tayce feels her heart rate slow from the contact and sighs, inhaling the scent of Georgie’s conditioner.

“It’s okay,” She uses her free arm to pat Georgie’s bum, trying to move the blonde along as they near the front of the line into the church.

At the very front of the line, just inside the ornate doors, is an older looking woman with chestnut coloured hair and a lavender chiffon dress. Georgie’s face lights up when she spots her and the woman gives her a motherly smile before embracing the blonde.

“Georgina,” she gushes, “it’s been so long.”

Georgie at least has the propriety to blush and she ducks her head abashedly. “Mrs Green- Margret,” she responds, “I’ve missed you.”

Mrs Green looks up, spotting Tayce hovering by the door and smiles lovingly, beckoning her over. “And who’s this lovely lady,” she asks Georgie with a bemused chuckle, watching as the girl blushes an even deeper red.

Tayce sees this as her moment and slides up next to her, hand wrapping around her waist, cheek resting on the top of her head. “I’m Tayce, Georgie’s girlfriend. It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Green and we’re so happy to be here.”

It slips out all too easy and even if she wasn’t prepared for this situation, somehow she is.

Mrs Green smiles. “Please, call me Margret,” she tells them graciously. “We’ll catch up later Georgina,” she informs them and then points them through another set of double doors.

They seat themselves towards the back of the pews, not wanting to encroach on family seating and Georgie twists her hands together until Tayce takes one of them in her own.

“Margret was like a mother figure to me,” she explains quietly, thoughtfully, “I feel bad for how out of touch I’ve become.”

Tayce just rubs her back, unsure of what to say.  

*

She grew up popular. Her blonde hair was always pin-straight and her eyebrows spent half of high school looking like someone had drawn them on with melted chocolate but that was in vogue.

People loved her and feared her in half measure and she used it to her advantage, getting what she wanted and feeling like she was part of an American high school movie while she did it. That was until she got too high on her own bullshit.

She forgot she was from Worksop, she forgot she has friends from popularity instead of just her personality and she forgot that not everything always went well for the mean girls in the movies.

She came out. She’d known she was gay since she was in primary school when she used to want to play mummies and daddies and always asked to be the daddy. (Until her best friend Jade told her that girls couldn’t be daddies, because daddies couldn’t marry other daddies and girls have to marry daddies).

She came out and suddenly her mean girl personality was abrasive and arrogant, and she had to come to terms with who she was all over again.

Then she met Veronica.

Veronica was lovely and sweet and the captain of the theatre club - who wanted Aurora to help with sewing costumes.

“Call me Georgie,” the blonde has said. She’d wanted people to call her Aurora because she wanted to be special and Georgina was too plain. Apparently 'special’ meant being called a dyke and losing all your friends though, or so she figured.

Veronica did make her feel special.

She’d invite her round for tea - to her house on the nicer side of town - where they’d eat freezer waffles and pizza that tasted a little bit like cardboard but also like home. Margret Green would teach her to crochet and help with designs. And slowly, Worksop felt like home again.

And then she met Tayce - and learnt what it truly meant to feel special.

*

The ceremony passes quick enough, Tayce’s hand in Georgie’s. They only time they let go is when Georgie has to dig around in her purse for a tissue - the wedding not getting to her, but Tayce.

It’s a short drive to the gazebo for dinner but they still don’t let go of each other’s hands, Georgie’s wrapped over Tayce’s on the gearstick.

They finally let go when they enter the venue for the reception. The ceiling is lit with fairy lights that cast an ethereal glow and there’s ivy in the exposed fittings. There are four long tables set up and the seating chart is hell to find but they eventually spot 'Georgie and Tayce’ opposite Mrs Green making Georgie blush that they’re on the same table as the Bride and Groom.

“I mean I’m honoured,” She mutters to Tayce under her breath as they navigate the chairs, “I just didn’t realise I meant this much to her and honestly I would have worn a nicer dress.”

“Shush you,” Tayce replies, pulling a rustic looking chair out for her. She gently pushes it back in, taking her own seat and patting Georgie’s thigh comfortingly. “You look hot as shit.”

Georgie blushes but suddenly Margret Green sits down and she feels sixteen again. She ducks her head almost shyly and Margret chuckles.

“I’m not going to tell you and your girlfriend off Georgina,” she tells them both, nodding to Tayce who wonders if she might be sweating under the weight of Mrs Green’s gaze. Margret never quite stopped calling her her full name - it took long enough to break the habit of calling her Georgina Aurora. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.

“I know Mam,” Georgie replies, straightening back up with a smile.

“That’s better dear.”

*

They’ve taken a break from socialisation and are leaning against the bar - the party in full swing behind them. Georgie swirls the stick in her Vodka Cranberry while Tayce leisurely sips on her Mojito. The faintly golden light of the gazebo casts shadows on her face that make her look almost ethereal and Georgie just can’t stop looking.

“You enjoying yourself?” Tayce asks softly, and Georgie blushes under her gaze, nervous she’s been caught staring. She taps the stick against the side of her near-empty glass a few times and sighs.

“It’s nice,” she muses, looking over her shoulder at the rabble. “Weird, but nice.” There’s an odd tone to her voice and Tayce nods for her to continue, quietly sipping her drink.

“I guess I’m a little angry,” Georgie admits after a short pause. “About why they can all accept you with me now - but they couldn’t when I really needed them to."

Tayce reaches across the gap between the chairs, frowning slightly as she brushes a thumb under Georgie’s eye. The pad of it slides along her jaw again before Tayce brings her hand back to her lap and Georgie has to hold back a sigh at the loss.

"I’m sorry baby,” she replies, “I know that doesn’t help fifteen-year-old Georgie but I really am.” Her hand moves back up to cup the blondes Cheek and Georgie brings her own hand up to hold it there. She leans into it, revelling in the warmth.

“It’s okay. Really, it is. I have you now."

The pad of Tayce’s thumb brushes Georgie’s painted bottom lip and she may have been leaning in but Georgie suddenly sits bolt upright. Her eyes are wide and Tayce drops her hand reflexively before grabbing the hand in Georgie’s lap.

"Shit,” Georgie mumbles, eyes still staring at a figure in a suit a few feet away. She tugs on the hand Tayce is holding and drags her over to the dancefloor.

“That’s my ex.” She tells Tayce who’s just looking at her oddly. “He’ll try and hit on me so you,” she pats Tayce’s chest with a wink,“ are going to dance with me.”

Tayce sighs before smiling at the proposition. “Well it’s not exactly Salsa music but I’ll give it a go honey.”

*

They’re pressed together, chest to chest in the kitchen. As Tayce inhales, chest heaving, it sends vibrations through Georgie’s body.

Tayce has switched the speaker on out of boredom, dancing around where they used to have a dining table and showing off all her moves. She had gotten bored back in uni and used to frequent the salsa society on her free evenings. They’d all made jokes about it but it’s quite clear that none of her friends had taken it seriously when she sees the awe painted on Georgie’s features. She’d offered a hand and the blonde had taken it, allowing herself to be pulled close as they worked through the basics, rocking back and forth.

She spins Georgie but makes sure to pull her close again as the traditional salsa music finishes and a new song comes on.

“Don’t just stand there staring, honey. Try to move your feet,” Tayce sings along, her voice breathy but it doesn’t have to be stronger when her lips are brushing Georgie’s ear. She lets her free hand trace patterns into the parts of the blonde’s back not covered by her flimsy crop top.

“I can make it nice and easy,” she hums, looking down to see Georgie’s eyes are half-lidded, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I'ma take the lead. They ain’t even looking at you, baby."

She drops Georgie but catches her almost immediately - a move that makes the blonde intuitively grip her tighter.

"They’re looking at me."

Georgie locks her eyes on Tayce, not noticing if they drop a bit towards her lips. "Fuck.”

*

It may not be a salsa but it turns out that Tayce’s dancing skills don’t just lie in the world of Latin.

She pulls Georgie close to her - as she does whenever she has an excuse - and they sway to the music together. It’s reminiscent of the forties - a song for soldiers to dance to with their wives and all the couples are on the floor slow-dancing together.

“Impeccable timing,” Tayce whispers in Georgie’s ear, enjoying the way she shivers and yet moves even closer into Tayce.  She always seems to have her bold moments and then goes back to letting Tayce be the big, strong night in shining armour.

Not that she minds.

As Georgie is a few inches shorter, she can tuck her head nicely under Tayce’s chin and it gives her the perfect vantage point to hear the way Tayce’s heartrate seems to be skipping beats.

She lifts her chin, looking up into Tayce’s green eyes and seeing them staring straight at her, a soft smile playing on the taller girls lips.

Tayce gets a funny feeling in her stomach, like she’s ingested butterflies and they’re trying to get out. Suddenly it all makes sense.

She places a hand under Georgie’s chin to hold her gaze and just smiles.

“I love you, you know,” she whispers, feeling like the music is all but silent.

*

They were drunk, hands travelling to places they wouldn’t normally dare - Tayce’s fingers trailing the lines of Georgie’s underwear through her dress.

The blonde giggles, hiccuping before hoisting herself up on the kitchen counter and pulling her shoes off. They land somewhere that will undoubtedly be a nuisance later but she’s too gone to care.

Tayce stands in between her legs, each hand resting on a smooth ivory thigh. “I can’t believe you shouted at that girl,” she says, lips pressing together as if she’s trying to look disapproving.

Georgie smirks, running a playful finger across the cut of Tayce’s jaw.

“She was looking at you,” she explains as if that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse and it almost makes Tayce chuckle. Instead, the welsh girl mimes biting Georgie’s finger, getting the blonde to laugh.

“She was the kebab girl… The cashier!” She pumps a fist triumphantly at remembering the right word. “She was the cashier. She was meant to look at us.”

“Noooo,” Georgie whines. “You’re not getting it, she was looking at you. Just you.” Tayce quirks her eyebrows, clearly still not getting it and her obliviousness makes Georgie lean forward to rest her forehead on Tayce’s shoulder. A sigh escapes her lips as she wonders if this is how Tayce feels putting up with her.

“She wanted you.” She states as plainly as she can. Her voice drops to just above a whisper, “she wanted you.”

It’s only then that she realises just how close they are - how she can feel Tayce’s hands on her thighs and the smell of daiquiris on her breath.

Their noses meet before their lips do until Tayce tilts her head just a little bit more and then it feels like something inside Georgie has snapped.

She pulls away, the back of her head bumping against the kitchen cabinet as she tries to reconcile what she just did with her own feelings.

It was good, too good, and it scared the living daylights out of her.

She slides sideways off the counter, leaving Tayce standing there - her dumb drunk face frozen in confusion.

*

Georgie’s eyes widen and then she shuts them, taking a deep breath. When they open again, tayce is still looking at her - though some of the sparkle in her eyes has dimmed and she suddenly feels the need to put all of it back.

She leans up, lets their lips brush against each other in a chaste kiss to test the waters but before she can pull away, Tayce has her bottom lip between her own.

She’s sure they’re being stared at but she can’t bring herself to care because she’s at a wedding and somehow she’s kissing the prettiest woman in the room.

Georgie finally pulls away, lips slightly swollen and lipstick smudging at the edges. her eyes are wet but they’re so bright.

“I love you too,” she murmurs, “ you fucking twat.”

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 20

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

The Batman hiding behind a corndog stall from a teenage girl: are you sure this is necessary? Twins: yes

First < Previous > Next

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

They arrive at the fair without being followed by Harley, at least she hopes so. Bruce somehow being able to convince Marion to not eat before going on the rides. In return Marion takes them straight to the most intense ride they have.

“Oh darn Mari,” Marinette says being dragged in line, “I don’t think we can go on this one without our disguises falling off,”

“Don’t worry I’ve been on plenty of rides like this and my glasses have never fallen off,”

You have magic glasses you twat! Marinnette glares, getting only a grin, telling her Marion knows exactly what he is doing. She's about to say as much when she notices an unfortunately familiar pair of pigtails in the crowd.

“Mari-” She looks over to her grinning twin.

“You know Nette if you really don't want to go on you don't have to,” Marion teases, Harley Quinn getting way too close to escape.

“On second thought let's go,” Marinette pushes Marion towards the ride, ignoring Bruce's surprise and Marion's taunting.

They get pulled onto the ride, Marinette coming off ghostly pale. Thankfully no Harley Quinn in sight.

“Let’s go again,” Marion starts pushing Marinette back in line, too light headed to stop him.

“How about we try some of the food, instead,” Bruce offers, looking over at her with concern.

“Sure, we can go on the rides later then,” Marion calls cheerfully, skipping off to a cotton candy stand.

“I got played didn’t I?” Bruce asks, watching Marion join the line.

“Like a fiddle,” Marinette starts to get some of the color back in her cheeks, “Don’t worry happens to everyone,”

“Yeah, he’s like his Mom,” Bruce mutters under his breath, but she still hears, “I mean…”

“It’s alright,” Marinette shrugs, walking towards the stand “Cotton candy?”

“Do I have to eat it?” Bruce grimaces, following her.

“Marions going to find a way to make you try it one way or another,”

Marion somehow manages to convince them all to get cotton candy. Bruce being thoroughly confused by it.

“It’s easy, all you do is pull a piece off,” Marinette demonstrates pulling off a piece.

“Or you can just bite it,” Marion faceplants into it.

“And get it all over your face,” Marinette deadpans, sneaking some to Tikki.

“Exactly,” Marion grins, coming back up with pink sugar all over his face.

“And you’re sure I don’t need any utensils,” Bruce says, looking quite out of place with the oversized pink cloud.

“No!” They both shout.

‘Alright then,” He pulls off a piece, cringing as he eats it, “This is just sugar,”

“Precisely,” Marion grins, biting off a big chunk.

“You're going to make yourself sick,” Bruce looks like he’s about to yank it away from him.

“ Precisely ,” Marion says, muffled by the dissolving sugar, “We should try funnel cake next!”

“Dear god, he’s just like Dick,” Bruce frets, watching as Marion bounces to the stall.

“I’m willing to bet Mari’s worse,” She watches as he eyes up the powdered sugar, “he’s a bottomless pit,”

“I think you might me right,” Bruce winces as Marion receives an oversized funnel cake, “that's terrifying,”

“You should see him around cheese,” Marinette suggests innocently, “Especially camembert,”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,”

Please do

They follow Marion around the food stalls. Marinette is able to keep up by feeding most of her sweet treats to Tikki. Bruce is not so lucky. They come across a mirror maze Marinette points out to give Bruce a break.

“Ah yes the mirror maze the best place to make sure no one recognises you,” Marion recites theatrically.

“The reflections are distorted,” Bruce walks past a mirror making him comically short

“Yeah that guy looks kind of like the Joker,” Marinette looks over to where Marion is pointing.

“Ah Mari,” She hesitates looking over the group of clowns reflected in the mirror that should definitely not be holding guns, “I think that is him,”

“Not again,” Marion mutters, backing up.

She tries to form a plan, they have to make a break for it to change into costumes or people could get hurt. But how are they supposed to so that with Bruce hovering over them. He looks like he’s trying to find an escape route, they have to find a way to protect them and-

“Is that Harley Quinn?” Marion whispers.

Sure enough they watch a reflection of the group making out from the stretched image as Harley walks over to the group and hits the Joker right over the head with a mallet.

“We should leave,” Bruce whispers, herding them in the direction they came.

“Will she be alright?” Marinette asks, watching the fight through a different mirror and gunshots echo.

“Yeah I think she’ll be fine,” Bruce says, as Harley knocks the gunmen's weapons away while hyenas chase after them through the maze.

They exit the maze in record time, Bruce being able to lead them through it easily.

“Do you think we should tell someone?” Marinette asks, there doesn't seem to be any more people going into the maze, maybe it's a Gotham six sense.

“We should,” Bruce agrees, less than enthusiastically.

“Or, or,” Marion dances in front of them, “We could go play some games,”

“We were almost attacked by the Joker and you think that's a good use of time?” Marinette can tell Bruce is thinking the same.

“Exactly! We were almost, so it doesn't count now does it?” Marion doesn't wait for an answer as he rushes off further into the fair.

They have no choice but to sigh and follow after him. Well they do but that's beside the point.

“Oh how awful it is, to not get to partake in the joys of a rollercoaster, unlike yourself whom screams with delight and fear every time-” Marinette uses the water gun to spray in the clown's face, “Hey!”

Unfortunately the clown that is related to her, not the carnival game. Marion tries to grab the water gun and they start fighting over it. Somehow they still manage to get a high score, enough for the big prize. Whether it was her good luck or Marion's bad luck projecting onto the stall runner is unclear.

“Unbelievable,” Marinette sighs as they walk away from the stall.

“Sorry, Nette there's just no love for the bugs,” Marion grins, hugging the giant black cat to his chest.

“I will find a Ladybug, just watch me,” She promises, this was never a problem in Paris, they have tonnes of Ladybug plushies.

“Sure you will,” Marion hums, Bruce just looks amused at their antics.

“If not I’m sewing spots onto the cat,” Marinette threatens, walking between rows of stalls none having a Ladybug plush.

“Nooooo,” Marion cowers, hugging the cat close.

“I think I saw a Ladybug prize somewhere back there,” Bruce points in the opposite direction.

“Where?” Marion runs where Bruce is pointing, Cat raised above his head, “We must go to save Dough boy!”

“Dough boy?” Marinette jogs slightly to keep up.

“From your disproving tone I can tell you approve,” Marion turns on his heel walking backwards.

“You know I technically won that game,” She pokes the cat toy in the chest.

“Please you were losing without me,” Marion grins, people moving out of his way.

“No I wase- look out!” Marinette pushes them both into the gap between stalls.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, on guard looking out for the Joker, Marinette can feel him scanning the area.

“The devil has arrived,” Marion whispers, noticing Lila, “Her dark shadow always follows us,”

“... Pardon?” Bruce relaxes taking it for a joke, which it is most certainly not,  Marinette tenses as Lila sends Kim right to the stall they are hiding behind.

“Girl at school we really don’t like, who really doesn't like us,” Marinette summarises, shallowling inhaling the smell of greasy batter.

“Which one?” Bruce analyses the group of teens near them.

“Sausage hair over there,” Marion nods to her, watching as Kim comes back with a corn dog, “Gasp, cannibalism!”

“Are you telling me Lila wouldn’t eat another human?” Marinette crouches down further keeping to the shadows.

“Are you telling me Lila is human?” Marion mutters back, both keeping their voices down.

“Good one,”

“Thanks,”

“Who’re we spy’n on?”

They all jump at the new voice. Marinette twisting to come nose to nose with Harley Quinn.

“De ja vu,”

“What?” Bruce turns to Marion.

“Nothing!” Marion very smoothly avoids eye contact.

“Spy’in on another date are we?” Harley asks, squeezing in next to the group.

“Another?” Bruce looks between them confused.

The twins frantically shake their heads behind Bruce's back. Harley makes a ‘o’ face and gives a nod.

“We’re spying on the devil,” Marion points at Lila, grateful she could at least serve as a distraction, “Bless whatever unfortunate soul has the displeasure of dating her,”

“Sounds to me like you have some strong opinions,” Bruce says, with slight disbelief, probably thinking they are overreacting.

“Trust me they’re founded,” Marinette whispers, cringing at the shrill laugh Lila gives.

Bruce gives her an expectant look and wedged together between a corn dog stall and who knows what else isn’t the best place to pick a fight.

“That’s a grade A psychopath right there,” Harley finally whispers to them.

“You can tell?” Marinette asks, ignoring Marion giving Bruce a smug look.

“Well from what I can see she’s a manipulative Liar-”

“To put it lightly, I don’t think she’s told the truth once in our years of knowing her,” Marion scowls, as Lila animatedly tells another tale, “Not even her name, don’t you think Lila and liar is a bit too convenient?”

“Anyway, she has pretty much all the class wrapped around her finger,” As if to prove her point Sabrina runs off to fetch her a drink, “Makes up rumours about anyone that doesn't follow her blindly and turns the rest against them,”

“I’m taking it you didn’t follow her blindly?” Bruce guesses, what on earth would give him that idea?

Harley seems to be studying Lila like she is a particularly interesting bug.

“Oh no we just love Lila so much we hide in joy every time she comes near,” Marion retreats further into the shadows, a hair away from actually hissing.

“You went toe to toe with scarecrow are you honestly telling me you're hiding from her,” Bruce studies Lila, as if looking for some sign of danger.

“If it helps she literally appeared in my fear toxin… illusions?” Marion looks for confirmation, Bruce giving a nod, Marinette shrugs he had already told her and didn’t feel like a stretch, “As the devil, soooo…”

“What did that meanie do to you!” Harley cries wrapping Marion in a hug, its alright Bruce only looks very concerned.

“Then I suggest we retreat rather than wait for them to leave,” Bruce offers, Marinette gives a nod but Harley has other plans.

“Not until I fuck that girl up!” Harley stands brandishing a mallet.

“Harley no!” Marinette hisses the three of them trying to pull her back out of the stalls.

“Let me go!” Harley struggles but not with any real strength, making sure not to hit them with the mallet, “She needs to pay,”

“Harley if we wanted her gone we could have done it already,” Marion placates, trying to push her away.

“You want her around?”  Harley stops in her tracks, tilting her head to look like a confused child.

“If we wanted her gone violently ,” Marinette specifies, guiding Harley out the alley.

“So you’ll accept a non violent way?” Bruce speaks up surprisingly.

“Yeah… I guess?” Marinette hesitates, Bruce and Harley share a glance then a nod, whatever just happened it might be better to remain ignorant.

“Well, glad we avoided that disaster,” Marion sighs, as he stretches out.

“What disaster, those outfits? Because you look utterly ridiculous,” They all turn to see Chloe scowling down at them.

That's right they said they would be with their aunt today and had turned down her invitation to the fair.

“Chloe! Hi great to see you,” Marion cringes, backing up under the blondes glare, “And everyone else, what a pleasant surprise,”

“Who were you hiding from?” Kagami asks, or rather demands staring suspiciously at Bruce. She gives a simple nod at the waving Harley.

“Would you believe Lila is here?” Marinette sighs, pointing back at the gap they escaped from.

“I suspected she was after Adrien threw up,” Chloe shrugs, Marinette's concern pushes into overdrive, overlooking Adrien for any signs of damage.

“I think that was more the rides combined with this food,” Kagami informs, looking down at a deep fried hotdog with disgust.

“Guys, please…”  Adrien blushes, glancing at her for some reason.

“Who is this?” Kagami demands, definitely demands this time.

“Harley Quinn-”

“Yes we know that,” Chloe huffs, cutting off Bruce.

“Oh.. um,” Marion exchanges a hesitant glance with both of them, “Bruce Wayne?"

“Right, and why is he here with you two?” Chloe doesn't look impressed at Marion's awkward chuckle.

“Um well… uh,” Marinette tries, glancing at Bruce who doesn't meet her look, “We just happened to be in the area?”

“Bzzt! Wrong! Try again,” Chloe makes and ‘x’ with her fingers.

“Publicity stunt?” Marion says, in the most unconvincing tone conceivable.

“Rion, if you were planning a publicity stunt there  would be confetti glitter and fireworks,”

Marinette tries not to laugh remembering a publicity stunt involving MCD that features exactly that.

“What do you want from me,” Marion whines, hiding behind his large plushie.

“The truth,” Kagami snaps, scowling.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Adrien says gently, half reaching out to them.

“The truth is…” Marinette trails off, completely weak for the boy but it’s clear Bruce doesn't want them to know.

“... I am their biological Father,”

They all look at him in shock. Marinette’s is a happy shocked, but their friends...

“What?!”

“I knew it!” Harley cheers, jumping up and down.

“But you- there was- you said-” Kagami stutters, a rarity for her.

“You, me,” Chloe points at Marion then at herself, “Words, now ,”

“Someones in ~trouble~,” Marinette whispers over to him.

“You too Marinette Dupain Cheng,” Chloe points right in her face.

“Ohh full name,” Marion returns the favour, “It’s been awhile,”

“Careful Cheng Dupain,” Chloe glowers, Marion chuckles uncomfortably.

“I’m in danger,” Mario gets dragged to the side, Marinette following, leaving Bruce behind.

“You’re in trouble ,” Kagami scolds, as they stop out of earshot from Bruce and Harley who is buzzing around asking a million questions, “If you don’t explain right now,”

“You owe us an explanation,” Chloe lets go of Marion's arm, “You were in the hospital and we were all worried trying to control these rumors and now you tell us its the truth and I-”

“Chlo, I’m sorry Selina only just told us,” Marion cuts off her rant, bordering on tears, he adds, “In the hospital,”

“You’re Aunt told you, but how would she-” Adrien puzzles, realisation dawning, “ No ,”

“Yes?” Marinette backs up a step, everyone realising the same.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” Chloe stomps her foot, “How can someone do that?!”

“Chlo, we’re not mad,” Marion tries to placate, Chloe turning on him.

“Of course you're not!” She explodes, “You two are perfect and forgiving which is why I have to be mad for you,”

“I think it would be nicer if you weren't mad and just supportive,” Marion smiles, Chloe's anger crumbling around her.

“... but it’s so much easier to be mad,” She whines, “Can’t I be angrily supportive?”

“I feel like you're going to be anyway,” Marion grins, one of whom they both know Chole is powerless against.

“So what are you doing now?” Adrien asks, looking back at Bruce who is now arguing wiht Harley, or rather getting yelled at.

“Trying to figure things out I guess?” Marinette looks over to confirm with Marion, “Bruce wants us to be sure we want, this,”

She gestures around herself, not sure what she means either.

“Do you want it?” Kagami asks carefully.

“... We want to try,” Marion gets a nod from Marinette.

“Very well, I will make sure he is worthy of you,” Kagami stomps off towards Bruce.

“Kags, you really don’t have to do that!” Marion calls, chasing after her.

“And she’s gone,” Marinette sighs, turning to the others, both smiling, “Adrien, Chloe can you do something?”

“We sure can,” Chloe walks over next to Kagami who is chewing out Bruce with Harley, “So, what do you want with my friends?”

“Not what I meant!” Marinette yells, getting a pat on the shoulder from Adrien.

“Quite you, the adults are talking,” Chloe waves her off.

“I’m older than you!”

“You should know they already have amazing parents that you can't replace,” Adrein adds to the onslaught of demands from the girls, a lot less threatening.

“I know, I’m not trying to,” Bruce answers evenly, still looking concerned at their guard dog like friends.

“Very well, you should know they are both amazing, and if you show anything less than a hundred percent support I will slice you in half,” Kagami threatens, and if she had her sword she would be holding it to his throat.

“Kagami no,” Marion tries to calm her down.

“You’re right, I will make it far more painful,” She growls.

“~Nooo~,” Marion backs down, hugging the cat to his chest.

“That's right, and don’t you dare think that just because your a billionaire your money will cut it,” Chloe scoffs, “Trust me the twins aren't that superficial, in fact they aren't superficial at all, it's frustrating,”

“She said twins,” Marion whispers to her as the demands continue.

“Package deal,” She hisses back, Bruce looking more and more overwhelmed by the pushy teens.

“Good friends you got there,” Harley whispers, content to let the chew out Bruce.

“What were you yelling at him for?”

“Oh nothin, he said some crap about not wanting to put you in danger, so I calmly explained the psychology behind it,” She crosses her arms smugly, “I think I got through to him,”

“If you're worried you should know Mari- they are really strong and can protect themselves,” Adrein says, Bruce starts to agree but is cut off.

“Hey! You were going to say Marinette! Weren’t you?” Marion demands, distracting the three from their onslaught.

“Both your names start with Mari,” Kagami points out, turning to him.

“Are you so insecure you immediately thought he meant Marinette?” Chloe taunts, inspecting her nails.

“No-I,”

“Geeze Rion I know Marinette awesome but your, you know… ok,” Adrien joins her teasing, muttering, “I guess,”

“That’s it, I’m disowning every one of you,” Marion points at each of them before turning to Bruce, “By the way, these are my ex-friends we used to be quite close, then they made the decision to humiliate me and I cut them out of my life forever,”

“Don’t be like that Rion,” Chloe grins, leaning against him.

“Yeah just because Marinette probably won that prize,” Adrien takes his other side, poking at the cat.

“She did not!”

“I did,” Marinette grins, Marion rolls his eyes.

“It was a team effort,”

“Heavily leaning on Marinette,” Kagami adds.

“Alright, let's settle this,” Marion looks at Bruce, “Where did you see that Ladybug?”

“Follow me,” Bruce smiles minutely leading the way.

“Ohh, Ladybug, maybe I should get one,” Chloe gushes, as if she didn’t have a hundred Ladybug plushies already.

“Yeah I can win it for you,” Marinette smirks, flexing her muscles.

“That does it! I’m winning that prize and sewing on cat ears,” Marion pouts, getting cooed at as they point out Marinette is the better seamstress.

“So how’ve you two been doin?” Harley asks, walking in between Chloe and Kagami.

The two start blushing, spluttering denial; which does nothing to convince Harley, or anyone else for that matter. Bruce follows them through the fair on their search for the Ladybug. If Marinette saw him taking pictures as they fought to win the Ladybug first, she wasn't going to say anything.

---------

Hi sorry I missed a few days life got busy>-< Also sorry if I don’t respond to messages or likewise I’m still trying to figure out Tumblr I’ll get there eventually... hopefully.

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd

[soundofseventeen]

Long Way Home (Jeon Wonwoo)

I would just like to take a moment and say FUCK PLEDIS, lmao. Also Haley requested this forever ago and I’m just posting it, so I hope this is okay.

Inspo

Word count: 5325

You could already hear Minghao scoffing at you in your head. He didn’t believe in perfect days so if you even explained the weekend’s events, he wouldn’t have believed you. So naturally, you were just gonna tell him it was a good time. The sun was almost done setting and you could feel the tan/burn of your days spent outside. Wonwoo cracked open the windows to let the hot air out and turned on the ac, letting the coolness hit your face and making you feel sleepy, and you could hear faint chuckling.

Spending a weekend in Changwon to (properly) meet his family turned out much better than you expected. Instead of taking a plane or train, he opted to make a road trip out of it, picking you up at the crack of dawn on Friday morning. You'd stopped at the gas station at the beginning of the trip, buying all the soda and junk food your arms could hold and rolling the windows down as the sunrise progressed into the morning. The more the world woke up, the more energetic he became and the louder he cranked up the volume.

While you did admire his onstage persona, intimidating you with the way he spewed venom when he rapped, it was another thing to hear him sing off-key to your song choices and giving you his dopey grin whenever you judged him. Wonwoo pointed to everything he remembered from his childhood along the way, stopping at a few places that he was sure that you’d like, like the frozen yogurt place that offered more toppings than he knew what to do with; or the second hand bookstore that gave away bookmarks after buying more than seven books. His favorite part of the road trip had been pulling over at the pet shop he begged his parents to stop at when he was younger but obviously said no.

Wonwoo laughed a lot the whole way there, enjoying the warmth of the sun through the windows and threading his fingers through yours and occasionally bringing them to his lips and kissing your hand, almost forgetting it was the weekend where he had planned to introduce you to his parents and trying his best to keep your nerves calm. It looked like it worked because he didn’t see you playing with your hair or drumming your fingers anywhere or even looking out the window. In fact, when he was about to ask how you were feeling you had fallen asleep somewhere along the way and he just laughed, letting go of your hand.

From all the stops you made, you didn’t get to his parents’ place until mid afternoon. His dad was outside washing the car when you pulled up. Wonwoo got out first and greeted him, trying to make up for all the lost time in that hug. You had to look away from that because it felt too personal for you even though you had those moments multiple times before. They talked for a moment and then he turned around and waved you over. You took a deep breath, fiddling with the door handle and you slowly got out. 

“It’s so good to see you Y/N!” Wonwoo’s father greeted you cheerfully. He didn’t know whether to shake your hand, bow, or hug you right away. He opted for the last choice. “Wonwoo talks nonstop about you! I was afraid he was making this up!” 

“It’s so nice to see you too,” you smiled at him. You kept your grip firm but not enough to hurt him. An awkward pause from you. “Thank you for having us over this weekend.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I missed seeing you here.” He fished out the keys from his pocket and pressed the panic button on it, not saying anything else until another figure emerged from the door.

“Yah! I told you to stop making noise before the neighbors file a complaint on us again!” The woman who became like a second mom to you marched over to him and smacked his shoulder. “Have you forgotten my name or something?” 

“I could never,” he chuckled, “but our guests are here.”

“And you couldn’t take them inside?!” She shook her head at, finger raised and ready to scold him. 

“It was easier if you did it.” He turned the nozzle back on the hose, the water spraying onto the car. “I still have this to clean.” He momentarily aimed it at her, and she screamed, which made him laugh.

“My children! How are you?” She kissed Wonwoo’s cheeks, pinching one of them and straightening his shirt to keep him presentable. “Y/N, you’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, oh my gosh.” You wrapped her arms around her and did that little dance while hugging. “I’ve missed coming here. How are you?” You missed her warmth.

“Everyday is a good day.” Wonwoo’s mom brushed some crumbs off your face. “I’d invite you guys in, but my house is still a mess. Bohyuk won’t be home until after his detention.” She shook her head just thinking about it. “So, we can stay out here for a couple minutes. Or are you tired?”

“Y/N slept the whole way; I was so bored.”

“You woke me up early,” you whined. “No one wakes up before dawn.”

“Some of us sleep at dawn,” Wonwoo retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and trapping you in his hold.

“You’re not human. Ahh! Wonwoo, let me go.” 

“First say you’re sorry.” He didn’t know how much it hurt to laugh this much with you, and you weren’t even doing anything remotely funny. He finally let you go though, panting hard to catch his breath. “You will be the death of me, you know that?”

“Am not!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“YES….DAD!” Wonwoo hollered, spitting out some of the water that had landed in his mouth when you got sprayed. “What was that for?”

“I see the bickering hasn’t gone away. Since you guys wanna fight so much, you can go pick up your brother after his detention.”

“Who’s fighting?” Wonwoo looked at you. “We’re not fighting. We’re best friends.” He draped his arm over your shoulder again, bringing you close to him, which made you blush for some reason and you smacked him. “Aren’t we friends, Y/N?”

“I’ve never seen you in my life. You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

*

“This is why you should go along with my foolproof plans,” Wonwoo said a little while later, towel drying his hair and offering another to you. He noticed you still shivering from the cold so he pulled you out into the sun, hoping to warm you up.

“Nah, you still end up getting us in trouble.” You wrung the water from your shirt, surprised at how much it managed to absorb from the sprays Wonwoo’s dad hit you both with and then took it from him gratefully. 

“I’m sorry. My parents are a little more excited for us visiting than I thought.” He brought the towel to your arms, drying you up a little.

“You don’t have to apologize. They miss you. The idol life is hard for everyone, you know?” You shuddered when his cold hand touched your cheek to press your foreheads together. Some of the droplets fell from his hair and landed somewhere on you.

“The rumors are true. Gross.” You both turned your attention to the voice, pinpointing it as Wonwoo’s younger brother as he gagged. “Oh my god, it’s my worst nightmare come true.”

“Shut up. You knew this was coming.”

“I want you to know that I lost a bet for saying you weren’t gonna….stay away from me. You’re wet and I don’t want Y/N’s germs on me.” He waved at you. “Hi Y/N!”

“Hi Bohyuk,” you smiled at him. “Still getting into trouble I see.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he protested. “If the teacher kept to the right instead of going to the left, then she wouldn’t have been showered with baby powder.”

“How juvenile.”

“Sure, you made the move on my babysitter, but I’m the juvenile one.”

You winked at Bohyuk. Due to babysitting him, you and Wonwoo had become friends. Not best friends who told each other everything, but occasionally hung out at school and sometimes studied at the local library before he went away to train to become an idol. And as Bohyuk grew up, the Jeons didn’t require your services anymore but they helped you get another job as a thanks for your help. 

You weren’t sure how you and Wonwoo managed to reconnect, no matter how many times you looked back on it. You just remembered that one day you were closing up at work….and you swore you just blinked when Wonwoo had dropped by for a visit. Even then, your feelings didn’t develop right away. You didn’t feel your heart break when he left again, and you didn’t chase him to see if he felt something. There was that sadness, yes, but you got over it just as quickly as it came. Always bad with texting during one of the times you exchanged numbers, he only responded when he remembered to and he made up for it with lengthy paragraphs and e-gift cards for you. But once he debuted, you saw him either onstage or in photocards.

And when you moved to Seoul to fill the hunger you had for adventure….nothing happened….at least, not at first. You didn’t bump into him at a coffee shop where he invited you to dinner and confess his feelings for you when he dropped you off at night; and he didn’t spy you in the crowd during one of his comebacks and make his forget lines. In fact, the first time he saw you, he sped through your neighborhood and saw you throwing out the trash, but he wasn’t even sure it was you, so he forgot about even asking you. 

Your paths eventually crossed one day while coming back from work and you picked up dinner you ordered ahead of time. He had been there with Soonyoung and Chan, waiting for the rest of their members when you walked in through the door when he saw you. He had been in the middle of a story but the bell dinging interrupted him. The funny thing was that he didn’t stutter or stop his story when your gazes locked; he merely smiled and waved at you and continued as if you weren’t there, but it wasn’t until you were getting ready for bed that he had messaged you on one of your social media accounts asking why you didn’t say hi or let him know sooner you were in town, but otherwise made no other move to make plans to hang out with you. 

You supposed the thing that got the ball rolling was finding him at a bookstore. Only instead of him looking for books like you were, he was on a coffee run with Seungkwan, but while waiting for their orders, he saw you in the young adult section, taking pictures of the covers and possibly sending them to someone. He left Seungkwan hanging in the middle of the conversation to ask what you were looking for, which scared you and made you drop your phone. By the time you picked it up, he already had a couple of books in his hands, which he swore you would like because he enjoyed them a lot. In the middle of that, he apologized through his laughter And with that he pulled out his membership card for the discount and shooed you to the checkout line and went back to check on Seungkwan who looked offended at having his story time ruined but had the self control to not ask who you were until they were in the confinements of the car and he mentioned you were an old friend.

You asked him about the books….if they had been made into movies or a series or something, and gave him your honest thoughts and opinions, and he offered his own. He seemed more surprised at the fact that he had forgotten how well you could discuss literary works and even though you had different opinions on each, he respected that. He didn’t even think that it would turn into something more (and neither did you), so he didn’t think much about it every time he asked you to go out with him. But then after misreading the signs one night, you kissed him. 

Although he had been shocked, he was also pleasantly surprised at how much he liked it, but he asked you to take it slow with him because of his life and he didn’t want to hurt you if anything were to come out of it. And he credited you for being as patient as you were. He sent you his schedules for the week (and sometimes the month) to see when it’d be okay to see you for more than just your casual outings and after Jihoon knocked some sense into him, he dove in and asked you on a proper date, unsure if it had been the right thing to do.

And now as he looked at you passing the plate to his mom and how you listened intently to whatever story she had been telling you, he figured it was worth it...even when you caught him staring and stuck your tongue out at him.

*

Saturday had brought you cruising the neighborhood and bickering over trying to remember what the abandoned buildings once held. You waved to vaguely familiar faces asking each other if someone was your friend or his. It was Wonwoo’s turn to play the music, but none of it matched the vibe of the day, so naturally, you skipped songs until they felt right 

You stopped by the library, a little heartbroken to hear that the librarian who used to help you two find books on several occasions had passed away. The last time you saw him before you left for Seoul, he had expressed how much he would’ve loved to see you both at the same table one day and fighting over whatever it was people your age argued about again. They did, however, have a photo hanging by the kids’ section as a memorial and Wonwoo let you rest your head on his shoulder while you paid your respects and spoke softly about how your lives came to be like this. You stayed long enough to read a chapter book from your childhood and renew your library cards knowing full well you wouldn’t come back anytime soon and promised the photo of the deceased librarian that you’d stop here every time you were in town.

For lunch, you stopped at a Chinese restaurant where you found out that the head chef there was now the owner of the chain. She remembered you two as the ones who’d order the biggest plate of orange chicken and split it but always left the vegetables on your plate. She led you to your favorite table, feeling a little guilty at seeing your names carved in there from your adolescent days. For old time’s sake, you ordered the same food, only this time you got your own food since you could afford it now. Wonwoo slurped his noodles loudly, partly to annoy you and partly because food that good needed to be known by making as much noise as possible. The chef/boss even comped your meal because of how adorable you two were together and she seemed pleased to know she played a small role in it. Wonwoo may have left a really big tip as a thanks.

In the afternoon, he brought you to the wide schoolyard of your middle school days. You sat under the big shady tree where you’d hang out with your small group of friends and watched Wonwoo walk to the bench where he hung out with his friends. You brought out a journal and a small speaker to listen to music to fill the silence you didn’t wanna hear just yet. You caught your journal up on the events so far, not leaving any details out and just proclaiming your love for the haven the weekend created. 

Wonwoo had with him a soccer ball and kicked against the gate, creating a ruckus and you asking him to knock it off, mostly because it wasn’t the noise he had in mind. He watched the way you scribbled across the pages, wondering what you could’ve been writing, seeing as though he’s been with you and nothing really seemed worth remembering. After a few more “goals” he scored, he sat down next to you and closed his eyes, to gain some of his strength back. He didn’t ask you to read what you wrote but he asked what you were thinking about, letting your words paint a picture in his imagination At one point, in a fit of boredom he took all his stuff back to the car and re-emerged with the guitar that Jihoon let him borrow. He was still practicing how to play it, so he wasn’t all that great yet, but it didn’t discourage him. He was still playing when you asked for the keys to trade your journal for your switch, figuring a video game seemed like fun. 

When the late afternoon turned to dusk, you both stood up, having gotten a lot further in your respective books than you expected, and stretched, letting the blood flow across your bodies and feeling lightheaded with the sudden movements. He grabbed your hand and together, you explored the campus, reminiscing about the worst and most useless classes ever thought of and why they even existed.

“Wonwoo, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but algebra? We kinda need that. Computer skills on the hand….”

“I could live my whole life without knowing whether parentheses or exponents, especially when you add letters to the equation...no pun intended.” He pointed to the woodshop class, ranting about the stupidy of school districts needing permission to teach sex ed classes but apparently preteens were mature enough to handle heavy machinery that could cause bodily harm and how he almost sliced his finger one time because the board he needed for a project wouldn’t cooperate with him.

“Do you remember this is where we first had lunch together after I started watching Bohyuk?” Wonwoo shook his head and you continued, hoping to jog his memory. “You didn’t say hi or anything. You literally just sat-” you pushed him down on the seat, you nearly falling on him but catching yourself in time, “-right there and started eating your chicken burger as if it was the most normal thing in the world.” You smiled a bit. “I didn’t even know who you were and you scared me.”

He nodded. “I remember some of that. But I only needed to tie my shoe and then you started talking and you haven’t stopped since then. I didn’t have lunch with you though. That was probably a different time. We didn’t become friends until way later.”

“It didn’t happen like that. We became friends really fast….stop shaking your head! My memory is better than yours.”

“What did we have for breakfast?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off the first thing you had this morning, but then you scrunched your face up, trying to remember. Was it pancakes….no! They were waffles! You dunked them syrup….right? You were pretty sure you had juice though. Wonwoo had coffee and maybe a bagel….you think. “I-” Your eyes darted everywhere, anything to spark a memory, but you came up empty. You closed your mouth again, lower lip sticking out.

“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly. He squatted a little to get to your eye level. “Who’s my favorite person in the world?” He reached out to poke your cheek to get you to smile. “Come on, friend. Who is it?”

“No,” you pouted, shaking your head at Wonwoo when his smile widened.

“What did I get you for our first official date?” 

“Coasters with kittens you and Seokmin named after the Weasley twins.” You weren’t sure why you remembered that, but it just stuck with you. “Stop trying to be cute with me, you little shit.”

“Okay, fine.” he kissed your forehead, chuckling. “We became friends that day. And what else do you remember about those days?”

“I saw you a lot at the book fairs; you were in the school’s top 30 biggest readers, and you kissed someone under the basketball court during PE once.” 

“I didn’t know you had a crush on me back then.” He pinched your cheek lightly. Well, he’d probably never tell you that he had one on you for about four days, but it went away. But he’d say just about anything to get that blush on your cheeks, even if it meant accidentally busting you but you not admitting to it.

“Come on, let’s go home already. Your mom’s probably waiting for us so we can all eat.”

“Hey, Jagi?” He had to know now, even if you weren’t gonna give him a clear answer.

“What?”

“Did you really have a crush on me?”

“What’s important is that we’re dating now and not reliving the most embarrassing parts of my life.”

He took that as a maybe.

*

Sunday morning, after staying up a little too late playing many, many rounds of Mario Kart, Wonwoo’s parents decided on an impromptu family day at the beach despite knowing that you’d have to leave later in the day to get back to Seoul at a (somewhat) reasonable hour. You made sure you had all your stuff packed so you wouldn’t forget anything and you joined the Jeon family for an early-ish breakfast with Wonwoo’s mom pouring too much syrup on her husband’s waffles, despite his protests of not liking it anymore. (He took one bite of them though and proceeded to snatch the bottle away and almost drown them in the gooey mess.) Bohyuk was more interested in whatever noise was coming from his phone than anything else, and Wonwoo almost falling asleep on his waffles. 

You chucked one of the wadded up receipts from your pocket at him and he jumped up, nearly knocking his glass of milk over and you laughed. He seemed wide awake the rest of the day though because he sang all his favorite songs at the top of his lungs on the drive to the beach while you fed him gummy worms and constantly asked him if you were there yet, to which at one point, he pulled over on the side of the road, unlocked the passenger door and told you to get out. 

Once the scent of salt hit your nostrils, you bounced in your seat excitedly, talking at a million words a minute about the last time you spent the day at the beach and how it’s felt like forever since you felt like a kid and had he not been driving, he would’ve kissed your head at your cuteness, but he did take your hand and squeezed it. But when your feet actually touched the sand, you remembered just how much you hated it when it got into your shoes and socks, so you took them off, not caring you’d eventually get blisters from how hot the ground was.

It wasn’t too fully packed with people but still you didn’t stray too far from the family, watching Wonwoo slowly dip his feet in the water but make no other effort to go further inside because Bohyuk was the dutiful brother trying to push him inside. 

You wrote down the non interesting events in your journal, enjoying the waves crashing on the shore and the gulls flapping their wings and reluctantly reading a couple entries to the curious mom. You drank your water happily to keep you hydrated, especially since the sun seemed warmer than most days. Wonwoo did call for you sometime later, and you raced to the water, jumping eagerly over the waves and grasping at his hand when one almost knocked you over. A little before you had to leave, you and Wonwoo walked through the shore, holding hands and just enjoying each other’s company. Truth be told, you didn’t want to leave; you wanted to stay in this paradise, where you didn’t have to worry about anything except maybe falling into the water and possibly taking Wonwoo down with you.

Eventually, Wonwoo did have to gently remind you that home was quite a ways away and a few of the boys wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t show up, and he had to pull you of the water to say goodbye to his parents. Wonwoo’s mom cried a little, saying she’d miss you both and Wonwoo’s dad hinted at you staying a little longer, going as far as saying that he could call someone at Pledis to excuse him for one more day, and the idea was tempting but you had to go and they only let you leave when you promised you’d come back soon. 

The sun had finally set when you were at the halfway point of home, and you were proud of yourself for staying up with Wonwoo as long as you did. He didn’t have much to say other than asking if you were hungry from time to time.

“You’re not ready to go home yet, are you?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You managed to crack a small smile when his hand found yours and entwined them.

“Not yet. I had so much fun this weekend.” He snuck a peek over at you scrolling through your phone, the brightness illuminating your face. “Are you still scared of my parents?”

“Yes and no. If we break up, it’d be a little hard to tell them that, don’t you think?”

“Or we can get married and hope we end up like them.”

“Jeon Wonwoo, you haven’t even told me you love me yet, and you’re already deciding our future.” You were grateful that he couldn’t see you blushing, but you didn’t feel like outing yourself by asking him to turn down the air. You had to admit the idea was nice though. 

“I didn’t say I love you. I’m just saying that if you don’t wanna tell my mom why we broke up, this can be an option for us and she’d never know.”

You could feel your eyes closing, the small banter tiring you out. Maybe he could make it home without you bothering him. The big neon signs could keep him company and possibly feed him since he often talked about grabbing a bite to eat. You weren’t hungry, but you felt as though you could sleep through the end of the world. You didn’t catch what Wonwoo told you, but you could feel him patting your head.

*

When you woke up from your nap, the car smelled like food and the streets looked familiar, but you still shut your eyes just in case you were dreaming. You could feel the disappointment of going home bubbling deep inside you. You didn’t want the night to end; you didn’t want to say goodbye to Wonwoo yet. It felt like you didn’t spend enough time with him. Maybe you should’ve stopped at a restaurant or maybe you should’ve stayed up with him. Was it too late to call one of the boys and say you got a flat tire on the way back? Maybe you could tell Wonwoo that you forgot your phone...and the one resting on the cupholder was his mom’s.

“Come on, sleepy head. I know you’re up.”

“No, I’m still sleeping. You can’t make me get up if I’m not awake.” You opened one eye, peeking at your surroundings. Pretty soon, Wonwoo would turn right and then go down a few more streets and then once you passed his favorite grocery store, you’d be home. You didn’t want that.

“Come on. We have to get up for work tomorrow and you have a lot of other things to do.”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.”

“What if I promise to take you out on a date this weekend? Or we can stay at my place and bug everyone?”

“No.”

“What if I spend the night after everything’s done? I know I promised Chan I’d do something with him, but-”

“No.” you felt childish but you couldn’t help it. “I’m still asleep.” 

“Please Y/N?”

Slowly you opened your eyes, sighing in defeat. You had a good weekend at least, but now you had to face the reality of tomorrow as soon as you got home. You saw the McDonald’s sign, getting ready to hear the blinker to signal his turn, but instead of turning like you expected, Wonwoo drove straight ahead. “Uh, Wonwoo? I think you missed the turn.”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do you feel like taking the long way home tonight?”

At this, you nodded. You liked when Wonwoo could read your mind and it comforted you to know that he felt the same way, even if he wasn’t as vocal about it. He let his phone choose the songs as he drove on, making random turns and not caring about where he was taking you. He just wanted to be with you until the last possible second. 

“I didn’t know you liked Green Day,” you commented when he stopped at a red light.

“I don’t think I’ve heard enough of their songs to know if I like them, but Vernon probably got into my phone. I can’t understand a lot of what they say anyway.” He shook his head. “All I know is that I question the whole anarchy thing.”

“I mean we jam out from time to time so it can’t be all that bad. The light’s green now.”

“Always in a rush to leave, aren’t we?” He waited a couple more second before driving down a few more streetlights (all of them turning red when he’d pull up) before making another turn that led you to a rural part of Seoul...and the outskirts from the looks of it. You came across a few neighborhoods, Wonwoo explaining how he’d like to live in something like this one day after the whole idol life/military discharge was over. He picked up the habit of kissing you whenever you stopped at the stop signs, liking the fact that it seemed like you were the only two people awake at that hour. 

Eventually he had to take you home, but he took every detour he could find, taking advantage of all the streets that he could find stop signs and red lights, so he could kiss you a little more and have those milliseconds add up. He finally stopped at your apartment building, turning off the music and looking up at you. “We’re here.”

“Thank you for this weekend, Wonwoo. Can we do it again?”

He nodded. “I’d like that a lot.” He deliberated a moment before turning off the ignition and all the lights dimming around you before turning off completely. 

You sighed quietly, feeling sadder than you should’ve but you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened your door. “Good night.”

He caught your arm before you could leave. “Jagi?”

“Yeah?”

He leaned closer to you until he could kiss you one more time. “Good night.”

Maybe you weren’t falling in love with Wonwoo yet, but you were more than okay with taking it slow. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he whispered.

It was your turn to lean in quickly and kiss him good night. “Thank you for taking the long way home.”

[hallowxiu]

Late Night Snack

Pairing: Beelzebub x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Genre: fluff 

Summary:  Beel misses Belphie, and while you can’t yet explain to him where he is and why he won’t answer his texts, you can help cheer him up.

Beel misses Belphie, and while you can’t yet explain to him where he is and why he won’t answer his texts, you can help cheer him up.

☼☼☼

Pitch black. All you can see is the faint outline of the things in your room as your eyes try to adjust to your dark surroundings. Your hand reaches out and clumsily looks for your D.D.D to check for the time. A sigh escapes your lips when you finally find it. “Dammit,” you groan to yourself when you see it’s only three in the morning. Thankfully for you, it's a Saturday and you don’t have class to wake up to in the morning, unthankfully for you, however, you’re on cooking duty and that does require you to get up before six in the morning. You never liked getting assigned to cooking duty, it always stressed you out trying to impress the boys (specifically Lucifer) and making sure that you had made enough for Beelzebub to eat while making sure everyone else also got food was enough to leave you pulling your hair out.

For whatever reason, you're wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. With your D.D.D back on your nightstand, you decide you might as well start the day and attempt getting the meals at least prepped. Devildom knows you have your work cut out for you today. Your bare feet thud against the wooden floor as you slide out of bed and open the bedroom door, not bothering to change out of your pajamas. If Lucifer has a problem with it, you’ll have to deal with that later. After all, you’re only making breakfast for them, it’s not like you’ll be fixing a grand meal for a special event. You snort to yourself over the mental image of Lucifer getting worked up over your apparel.

From where you stand in the hallway, you can see the kitchen light on and sigh to yourself in realization that someone’s already up before you. It’s likely that it’s Lucifer; the man wakes up long before anyone else, and that’s if he goes to bed in the first place. You don’t know how someone can function on such little sleep while taking on an immense workload, but you decide it’s best not to question it too much. “Lucifer?” You drowsily call out as you step into the kitchen and bring up a hand to rub the sleep from your eyes. “Oh.” You pause where you stand and take in the sight of the broadened outline of a certain redheaded demon. You shouldn’t be surprised to see Beel in the kitchen, you knew he had a habit of getting up several times a night to get “midnight snacks”, as he often called it.

“Oh?” Your name falls from his lips as he turns around, and he briefly reminds you of a child who's been caught doing something bad. “I didn’t hear you. What are you doing up so late? It’s not like you to stay up all night, that’s more Levi’s thing.” You chuckle to yourself as you step around him and make your way into the kitchen.

“I guess I just couldn’t sleep. I decided I’d just start cooking duty early today; do something productive with my time, you know?” You raise an eyebrow when you notice that Beel wouldn’t look you in the eyes, and you find his attention on the tiled floor instead. You also notice that he doesn’t have any food with him and that he wasn’t near the fridge. “What are you doing up?” He only shrugs in response, his cheeks dusted with a faint red. This was… odd, to say the least. You know Beel as the silent type, but this is still unlike him. “Did I interrupt you from getting a snack?” You try your best to sound casual as you whip out your D.D.D. You fiddle around with it aimlessly to give Beel the impression that all your attention isn’t on him.

“Not really.” He eyes you momentarily before he speaks up again. “I couldn’t sleep either, so I thought maybe I was just hungry but…” His voice trails off as he plays nervously with his hands. “It’s not that.” Your eyes widen from his words.

“You mean, wait, are you saying that you aren’t hungry?” Beel’s almost always hungry, even when he doesn’t have a large appetite. He never passes up food, no matter what situation he’s in. To have him standing in the middle of the kitchen and not even think about eating was concerning. Maybe you should talk with Lucifer? You sigh inwardly at the thought; Beel doesn’t need Lucifer sticking his nose into his business. If it’s bad enough, you’re sure that Beel would approach his older brother on his own terms. “So then what is it? Why can’t you sleep?”

“I…” He looks embarrassed as he hesitates, almost as if he’s ashamed for how he feels. With a gentle smile you encourage him to continue. “I miss my twin brother, Belphie. I wish I knew why he wouldn’t answer my messages. I just want to know that he’s doing okay in the human realm.” Your heart breaks where you stand as your brain tries (and fails) to come up with something to say. Truth be told, you know where Belphegor is and why he hasn’t been answering any of Beel’s messages, but you can’t tell him… not yet, anyway, you’ll need more of a solid plan before doing so. “What if he’s in trouble? What if that’s why he’s not answering my messages? He’s quiet in nature, but it’s unlike him to keep things from me. Belphie and I tell each other everything.” As if to convince himself, Beel nods his head at the end of his sentence with his hand on his stomach. If he wasn’t so distraught, you would have thought the action was endearing.

“Ah, Beelzebub, maybe his D.D.D doesn’t work up there, kind of like how my cell phone doesn’t work down here, you know?” You don’t want Beel suspicious or worried over Belphie; it might throw things off for you. You aren’t sure what would happen if Beel finds out that Lucifer has been keeping him prisoner this entire time, and you definitely aren’t sure if you can handle the aftermath of him finding out.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m worrying over nothing.” His brows are creased together, though you can tell he’s trying his best to seem less concerned. You know for yourself he isn’t feeling any better, so you decide then and there to take things into your own hands. It’s the least you could do for Beel and Belphie in the moment.

“You know, when I would get anxious about things as a child, my mother would always make me my favorite meal.” Beel’s interest is peaked, his attention suddenly on you compared to earlier when he was actively avoiding you. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to continue. “Hot chocolate!” Beel’s expression falls from intrigued to confused, and before he can ask any questions you quickly speak up. “I know it’s not really a meal, it’s a drink, but it’s my favorite and it always made me feel better. Besides, I never hear anything about hot chocolate in the Devildom, so I think this would be a fun way for you to try a human beverage, right? You’re always saying how you want to try more human foods. Just think of this as, um-- a liquid dessert. Yeah, a liquid dessert!”

This will be my best choice, you find yourself thinking. It’s quick and easy to make, and you’ll still have plenty of time to start up breakfast afterwards. Maybe Beel will even go back to bed. “Okay.” A smile takes over his lips as he looks down at you. “I will make sure to share it with you.” He stands back while you look around the kitchen for the proper things you’ll need. Thankfully, hot chocolate isn’t a difficult recipe, and the Devildom has many of the ingredients to boot. After all, you really only needed milk, cocoa powder, and some marshmallows. And if you’re super lucky today, the House of Lamentation would have all of those things.

“You know,” pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you search through the cabinet, “the best part about hot chocolate is picking which mug you use.”

“The mug?” There’s a look of confusion on Beel’s face, as if he wasn’t exactly sure what you were talking about. “Do you eat the mug too?” He knows he gets weird looks from his brothers and occasionally even you when he’d attempt to eat the plate along with his meal, but he didn’t think humans would eat the dishes too. Then again, he’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t know much about the human realm or the humans that live there.

“You don’t eat the mug.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you reassure him. “I mean, sometimes there are edible mugs, like chocolate mugs, but I don’t think the Devildom has anything like that.” You cut yourself off when you see that he’s confused again. “Nevermind that. Most people enjoy their hot chocolate in their favorite mug. Mine was always something cute and Disney related. Do you have a favorite mug, Beel?” He goes quiet as he takes a moment to think, his eyebrows furrowed while he shifts on his feet. It’s odd, you think, because in any other situation you’d be impatient, but you found out very early on into your stay that you had a not-so-small soft spot for the giant brother. You honestly believed that Beel could take an hour thinking about his answer and that you’d be okay with it.

“I do.” He says after a careful minute of decision. “If we use it, I don’t have to eat it, right? Because I won’t use it if I have to eat it.” Laughter bubbles up in the back of your throat when you see how serious his expression is.

“I promise you Beel, you don’t have to eat your mug.”

“Okay, great!” His smile is plastered on his lips once again when he claps his hands together. “So how do we make this liquid dessert?”

“Hot chocolate,” you politely point out, “and it’s very simple. Since you’ll probably want seconds, or even thirds, maybe fourths--” you’re getting side tracked, “I’ll be making more than I usually would.” You explain to him as you duck down and grab a pot from one of the lower ground cabinets. “So hopefully you like it!”

“I like anything that you make.” He’s a little too quick to answer, but you can feel the butterflies swarming uncomfortably in your stomach from his compliment. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s willing to eat almost anything, or if he actually does enjoy your cooking, but you figure it’s pointless to ask.

“That’s very sweet.” You reply with burning cheeks. You’re glad your back is turned to him so that he couldn’t see how red you are. “Uh, Beel, could you grab some milk from the fridge?” You figure he might want to take some part in the process of making it. He's gone just as fast as you ask the question, only to return seconds later with the milk. “Thank you!” You beam when he places it on the counter next to you.

“I did good?”

“You did great.” You lean up on your tiptoes and ruffle his hair as he smiles bashfully. “Okay, so we’ll just need three cups of milk and then three cups of half and half cream,” you grab the measuring cup you set out earlier and pour the milk into it, “and then we can get to the fun part.”

“The fun part? I thought the mug was the fun part.”

“The mug is the fun part, but there’s another fun part! And that’s adding the chocolate.” You angle your head so that you’re looking back at him, wiggling your eyebrows in anticipation. Beel peers over your shoulder from where he stands behind you, eagerly staring at the pot as if his gaze will cause it to warm.

“I have another question.”

“What is it?” You ask as you bring your attention back to the milk; you didn’t want to make a mess in front of him. It’s too early to be embarrassing yourself like that.

“What’s half and half?”

You pause slightly at Beel’s question. Shit. Did the Devildom even have half and half cream? Did they have anything similar to it? You drum your fingertips on the surface of the counter, your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth. “Ah!” You snap your fingers together and push yourself away from the counter. “Butter! Butter and more milk! I think I can make that a substitute.” You hope so, anyways, otherwise you’ll have a very odd tasting hot chocolate. Beel says nothing, only standing back and letting you do the work, not wanting to mess up anything. He wasn’t sure why you were going on about substitutes, but he knew better than to try and get involved now.

Once you have the half and half cream situation sorted out, you turn the stove top on and then turn around. “We just have to wait for the milk to heat up, and then we can add the chocolate.” You wiggle your eyebrows once again and Beel can’t help but to giggle from your antics. “So, why don’t you find some vanilla and I’ll look for the chocolate powder.”

“We don’t have chocolate powder.” Beel replies almost instantly as he wanders off to the pantry to look for the vanilla. “And why do we need vanilla mix if we’re making chocolate?”

“Dammit,” you curse under your breath, “what about chocolate chips?”

“We have chocolate squares.”

“Good enough; Beel, can you bring me a bag of chocolate squares? Please don’t eat them.” You can practically see his pout from where you stand, but nonetheless he brings you the bag unopened. Okay, so maybe your traditional hot chocolate recipe was straying from the original ingredients, but that’s okay. As long as it tasted like hot chocolate, you’d be happy with that. Besides, this might work out for the best anyway-- the chocolatier the better, right? You gently take the bag from Beel’s hands and quickly open it, popping one of the squares into his mouth before he can complain about how he’s just absolutely starving. The rest of the bag goes into the pot, Beel watching with a small frown as the chocolates melt and disappear into the milk.

“Goodbye chocolate squares; you’ll never be forgotten.” He nods his head once and you have to keep yourself from snorting. He could be so dramatic at times when it came to food. You expected nothing less from the avatar of glutton, though.

You smile in content as you mix everything in the pot together. “It smells good, right?” The kitchen was beginning to smell like chocolate and you definitely aren’t protesting. “It’ll taste even better.” You comment when you see him nod his head in agreement. This seems to satisfy him as his overall mood becomes a little brighter. “And now just a splash of vanilla…” You let out a surprised yelp when Beel pours nearly half of the bottle into the pot. “Oh, Beel!” That definitely wasn’t good.

“Did I do it wrong? I just wanted to help.” His mood’s dimmed again and the frown is back on his face. You feel panic rise in your chest and you quickly shake your head.

“No, no! That’s fine!” You didn’t mean to yell, but you just really needed to let Beel know that he did a good job (even if he didn’t). “I’m sure it’ll taste great!” You soothe his nerves and carefully take the bottle out of his large hands and screw the cap back on.

After what seems like enough time has passed, you turn off the stove and turn back to face Beel. “Do you want to get your mug now?” He beams from the question and hurries off without another word. You watch silently as he skims through the cabinets for his favorite mug. After a couple seconds pass, he’s walking back over to you with a black mug with yellow stars painted on it. It was definitely… homemade. It was cute, but you didn’t think it quite matched the demon’s personality.

“Belphie made it for me.” Beel says as if he’s able to read your thoughts. “He painted it himself and drew on the stars. It’s my favorite gift of all time.” There’s a softness to his features that you can only describe as complete and utter adoration.

“It’s beautiful, Beel.” And you certainly weren’t lying. Knowing the story and emotion behind it, you can’t help but to change your mind on its appearance. You gently take the mug from his hands and pour some of the hot chocolate into it. Once you were done, you handed it back to him. “Make sure to blow on it so it doesn’t burn your...tongue…” Your voice trails off as you watch Beel down the entire drink in one single gulp. You blink once, then twice. Your mouth opens, though no words come out as you stare at him in silence. That was impressive. Concerning, but impressive. “Did you even taste it?”

“I did! It was delicious.” He smiles brightly and for a second you’re convinced that he shines brighter than the sun. “May I have more?”

“You can have all of it.” You say and push the pot towards him. He frowns at this and you raise an eyebrow. Maybe he didn’t like it after all?

“You have to have some too. I told you I’d share.” You lean up and peck his nose, watching in amusement as an adorable flush spreads across his cheeks. “You don’t have a favorite mug here, do you?” His question catches you off guard, but you quickly nod your head in response. “Then I will let you borrow one of mine. Hold on.” He hands his now empty mug to you, and once again you find yourself silently watching as he disappears to find another mug. He comes back with a plain green one, a small golden heart engraved on the side. It looked similar to Beel’s in the fact that it was homemade.

“It’s cute, Beel.” You say softly as you two exchange mugs. “Where did you get this one?”

“Lilith made it in the celestial realm. Belphie and I were able to sneak it out before we were cast down here.” Your eyes widen slightly as you look down at the mug in your hands. “I think you should have it; I think she would like that.” This time it’s your turn to flush from Beel’s words. Could you really keep something like this? You weren’t sure how the others would feel if they found out that Beel gave you her mug. As if he can read your mind, he leans down and presses a brief, but soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sure.”

Before you could say anything more, the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls your attention away. In the entrance of the kitchen stands Lucifer, a single eyebrow raised as he stares at the two of you. “Do I want to know what you two are doing up at this hour? And why there’s,” he peers around the two of you to look at the stove, “chocolate and milk spilled on the stove top?”

“Uh…” Your brain might have just died.

“Nevermind.” He’s letting out a sigh as he waves his hand in the air. “Just have it cleaned by breakfast--” He pauses and for a brief second there’s an expression of shock on his face, “that’s not our breakfast, is it?”

“What? No, of course not! It was just a late night snack--” Lucifer cuts you off with another wave of his hand once he hears what he wanted.

“Just clean it. You too, Beel. Oh, and please, if you insist on beginning your day this early, have the decency to change out of your nightwear.” The two of you share sheepish smiles as Lucifer walks out without another word. At least you were able to cheer him up? Maybe?

[unlockthelore]

Hurt

When they were kids, Cloud always tried to keep a stiff lip and Tifa always came to his rescue. Now, everything seems the same and different.

Beneath leaf-filled gutters dripping water into barrels set against a damp brick wall, a white cat blinked iridescent blue eyes at a glowing orb set precariously on a pile of debris. Its tail flicked and curled as it crept around shallow puddles shimmering flourescent green across a rippled surface. Gravel presses into its paws as it crept up the pieces of broken wood, sights trained on the orb’s surface, its light particles drawing the attention of cat’s dilated pupils.

Seconds from claiming its prize, the cat lunged only to be batted away by a hand. Tumbling backward down the pile of scrapped wood into a heap in the dirt, a small cloud of dust arising. It took a moment to shake off the initial shock. Slitted pupils and narrowed eyes focused on a blond haired child kneeling on the other side of the pile, snatching the glowing orb from the cat’s view. Hissing with a puffed out tail, the cat stalked forward attempting to lay eyes on the orb but the child blocked its view every time.

“Shoo, shoo…” He urged, waving his free hand mere inches from the cat’s nose. A few mere inches which would be his downfall. Rebuffed and vindictive, the cat lunged with a loud grating hiss, claws flashing and the boy recoiled with a startled cry. Bringing his hand close to him, fresh angry reddened streaks along the back of his hand gives the cat a sense of triumph as it scampered away, racing out of the alleyway before the boy could retaliate.

The blond grumbles softly, nursing his hand close to his chest, eyebrows knitting together in pain with a flicker of annoyance at the cat’s retreating form. “Ouch…”

Dull throbbing pain etched around the thin scratches. Blood beading around the wound staining his pale skin a light scarlet with a few dunks of his hand in a small basin beside the larger water barrels. Cradling the orb in his free hand, he carefully shifted it to eye-level and turned it over in his palm admiring the glow.

There was no question of why the cat would want it but if he’d lost it, that would be worse than a couple of scratches. His body ached and muscles protested his shuffling to the wood pile, dropping down against the dilapidated fence separating from the main road. Ambient voices and footsteps of the other towns goers both filling him with dread and concern. The longer it took him to figure out how to use this, the easier it would be for someone to stumble across him. Word traveled fast in Nibelheim, and would no doubt reach the ears of one Claudia Strife.

When glaring a hole into the orb didn’t work, Cloud tried any manner of “magic words” including “please” although he took a quick glance toward either side of the backalley to ensure no one was listening. The other kids would never let him live it down if they heard him pleading to a ball of energy — or was it magic? He couldn’t quite remember what his mother had told him before and recalling her words was difficult at a distant shout of his name.

Scuffling in the dirt, a sharp pain to his back and sides nearly tore free a pained groan. His hand clamping over his mouth to stifle it as the sound of his name grew nearer. Bouncing off the brick walls, interrupting the ambience and nearly drowned out by his hammering heartbeat. He knew that lilting voice anywhere — having heard it call out to him most of his life — but he didn’t want to face her.

Not yet, and definitely not like this.

“Cloud, are you back here?”

Tucking the orb close to his stomach, he clasped his injured hand over his mouth tightly, trying to control his breathing and make himself as small as possible. In the dim, it would be harder to pick out where he was exactly. And for once he was grateful that he was so small and unassuming. If he just stayed quiet then perhaps —

“Y’know, even if you try to keep quiet and hold your breath, the cat and the materia you took from my dad gives you away.”

Wrenching his eyes open, Cloud felt dread pool in his stomach. He knew when he was caught. Carefully lifting his head, his gaze traveled from the dirt scuffed at the tip of his boots to unblemished legs. Powder blue strapless sandals, that were always getting caught on cobblestone or causing a ruckus during a free run, on a pair of shifting feet matching the cream-colored dress and the drape of dark hair barely masking concerned and annoyed ruby eyes. While he was dirtied from head to toe, Tifa was pristine and — to his relief — unharmed.

Though, she was no less upset. Thick dark brows furrowed and rose pink lips pinched together, her balled fists jammed into her hips as she shook her head at him. “Really, Cloud. How were you gonna hide a glowing green ball in a dark alley?” Her gaze dropped somewhere near the hand that fell from his mouth, resting against his chest with nowhere else to go. Pain flickered in her eyes, quickly blinked away as determination interlaced with concern in her pinched expression. “And patch yourself up at the same time…?”

Cloud swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to explain to Tifa what happened but he was caught red-handed and she wouldn’t let him off easily. Fiddling with the orb, it felt cool against his heated skin. Shame burning deep in his chest as Tifa looked him over with a dawning look of realization. Her head dropped with a heavy sigh.

“You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

Wincing and averting his gaze, Cloud grumbled bitterly. “I was… gonna figure it out.”

Tifa’s disappointment is palpable but so is her concern. Cloud, chafing beneath both, had little energy to fight back against her snatching the materia from his hands.

“Before or after you got my hat back from the monsters?”

He half-expects her to turn around and go marching back home or chastise him for being reckless. When neither comes, he glances up at her as she shuffles in the dirt. Gravel and muck staining the hem of her dress when she crouches at his side, her eyes much closer and hold tight on his arm. It would’ve been painful if not for the cooling rush of energy fluttering from the materia into his skin, numbness ebbing at pain’s biting sting, racing through his body. If Cloud didn’t know any better and Tifa’s hold on him wasn’t so tight, he would’ve thought he was floating.

“Everyone else ran for the hills, I mean…” Tifa’s voice is soft and distant, a hint of bitterness souring the air between them as they watch the scratches begin to close. “So did I…” Quickly, she added. “Just to get my gloves so I could whack them myself.” Once the scratches healed, she eased his hand to his lap and loosened her grip enough that his wrist didn’t ache. Still, she refused to let go and Cloud knew better than to pull his arm away.

“And then I see my hat on a post and you were nowhere in sight.”

The slightest tremble to her hand made Cloud ease his own back and clasp it with hers. Tifa’s pinched expression breaking, a faint glimmer to her eyes as relief floods where anxiousness had been. She squeezed his hand and a hushed silence lulled between them, Nibelheim’s ambience filling the quiet as they were lost to their thoughts.

Quietly and with no small amount of hope, Cloud asked. “Did you get it back?”

That hat was one of Tifa’s favorites. Although she had so many, that didn’t matter. It was hers and he wasn’t going to allow some monster to trample over it. Tifa startled at the question then sighed raggedly, waving the materia inches from Cloud’s nose, his eyes almost going crossed as he tried to keep his gaze on it .

“That’s not the point, silly.” Tifa huffed, pulling the materia back, giving Cloud precious time to refocus his sight. His vision dotting a bit as he tried to level his gaze with hers. Almost wishing that he hadn’t when he sees the guilt and apprehension in her eyes. “You could’ve gotten really hurt, you know? Then what would I do?”

A loaded phrase and one Cloud isn’t quick to answer. Tifa’s care for him always leaves his stomach in knots and he hates seeing her face like that. Tired, concerned, anxious, guilt-ridden, those were emotions she didn’t deserve. With how helpful and strong Tifa was, she deserved to smile everyday. And he hated that he was the one who made her look like that.

Say something. Anything that’ll make her not worry so much.

Opening his mouth and closing it as he tried find the words, Cloud grumbled. “Take your hat, go home, and ask your dad how to use a healing materia… I guess?”

Weighted silence lingers between them before Tifa groans, shoving his shoulder lightly with materia in hand. “Oh, so now you’re a funny guy?” She asks dryly, but her smile is there and that’s all that matters to him. Slowly rising from the dirt, smatters of gravel cling to her skin and Cloud is hard-pressed not to remind her of them. Staring up at her steals his breath away, the light reflecting off the gutters haloing her in a gentle golden hue.

“One of these days, Cloud Strife, you’re going to get yourself into something you can’t get out of trying to play hero.”

Cloud closed his mouth, his lips dried from hanging open for so long. With Tifa’s help in pulling him to his feet, he held onto her hand a bit tighter as she tried to pull away. Her eyes squinting in confusion.

“… Then you’ll rescue me.”

“Huh?”

Cloud felt his face warming, his hold on her hand loosening for a second to allow her to pull away. When she didn’t, he tried to summon all the courage he could muster to keep speaking. Looking everywhere else but at her, trying to focus on the dripping water and the chattering beyond their little pocket of existence. Ignoring Tifa’s efforts to try and catch his eye, his head turning this way and that to avoid her gaze. “I promised I’d come rescue you once I’m a SOLDIER…” He cleared his throat when she ducked her head in his line of sight, meeting his eyes curiously. A startled noise and his head whipped to the side, too quick for him to play it off. “So, you have to rescue me too… if I mess up with playing hero.”

Tifa giggled after a short pause, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to tell me that,” she said to him, pulling him to her side, not minding the slight stumble as he tried to regain his footing. Her eyes twinkling and the soft golden hue seared into his memory.

“It’s a promise, Cloud.”

 ・・・・・・ LOADING

Cloud opens his eyes to the darkness of his room in Stargazer Heights, the sounds of Nibelheim melting away along with Tifa’s voice and the warmth of her hand. Gazing down at his gloved hands, he carefully pulled one of the leather garments from his hand and set it in his lap. Brushing his fingers along the unblemished skin — feeling the ghost of the scratches and the ache in his bones from Tifa’s tight grip on his wrist. It was silly. He’d grown a lot since then but the sensations were still as real as they were that day.

An ache settled in his chest when he heard a door creaking open from down the hall along with the tell-tale footsteps down the rickety staircase. Pushing himself up to his feet, Cloud grabbed his fallen glove and tucked it over his hand. Hesitantly glancing between the Buster Sword propped up against the wall and the doorway where the footsteps were growing fainter to his ears. Quickly holstering the weapon, Cloud pulled open the door and darted to the railing, grasping it with both hands as he leant over.

“Tifa?”

Gone was the childish roundness to her face and the wide-eyed optimism and unbridled determination. He never noticed until Tifa was looking away from him, but shadows haunted behind that glimmer of hope. And the spark was steadily going out. Without missing a beat, she turned her head up to him and stopped at one of the lower steps, her hand on the railing and smile showing a sliver of teeth. Her face lighting up and temporarily blinding him from the shadows and all else around him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I… um…” Words gathered and died on his lips as he tried to piece together why it is that he wanted to see her now. A dull pricking pain, barely worth mentioning, drew his attention to the cloth bracers missing from his arm. Several thin scratches wrapping around his forearm, angry raised skin presenting both a hollow memory and an opportunity.

“Could you… patch me up?” Cloud asked, raising his arm hesitantly, the cool air stinging the fresh cuts. He thought that they would heal in his sleep but perhaps he hadn’t used his materia properly. Healing wasn’t exactly his thing after all.

Tifa leant up on her tip toes, likely attempting to see what he meant. A startled gasp escaping her as she raced up the stairs in record time.

“Cloud, wh—“

“You promised,” Cloud interjected, noting the exasperation and confusion in her eyes as she rifled about in the small pouch at her hip for a healing materia, glowing a familiar green between them. When her eyes met his, there was a brief flicker of recognition and the exasperation melted into a fond smile that stammered his heart’s beating.

“… Guess I did. Now, hold still, okay?”

Laying his hand in her own, he almost wished that he left his glove off so he could feel the warmth of her hand. But for now, this would be more than enough.

[justaghostingon]

Cogs in a Steel Heart

Chapter 1: Introductions

Cyrus could think of a hundred other things a thug minion could do, each one a hundred times more fitting for someone of his skill set than babysitting. But Donella needs someone to take Hugo’s reports, and Cyrus needs the money, so here he is, in the cold and the wind, listening to Hugo gripe. And maybe he is kind of enjoying listening to Hugo complain about having to make friends of all things. Just a bit though. 

read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331849/chapters/58666810 

or below the cut off.

Cyrus liked to consider himself a pretty normal guy. Sure, he beat people up for a living, but hey, it was honest work and that was precious hard to come by in this economy. He went home to his loving wife, Mona, and a tiny apartment worth far less than the angry landlord demanded just like everyone else. As far as thugs went, he was pretty decent, never roughing someone up more than was necessary to get the point across, always paying his guild fees on time, keeping trouble out of the neighborhood of work so his neighbors’ kids could play outside safely.

It was that kind of attitude that had gotten him assigned to Donella in the first place. She was notorious for having thugs quit on her like clockwork, and the guild was running out of thugs to send her. Eventually the exasperated guild master had called Cyrus into his office, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Cyrus, you’re the most personable thug I got. If you can’t handle this crazy lady, we’re dropping her, solid gold pay or not.”

It hadn’t been easy, but here he was, six years later, holding the record for the longest lasting employee of Donella. And what did it get him? He pulled his arms around himself as the cold of the forest swept through him. Stuck following behind some stupid kids on a stupid quest, way past company time. He didn’t even get to interact with them! No intimidation or anything!

No, that privilege rested with the boy he was waiting on, whose report he would have to write up like some common secretary. The boy who had gotten him into this in the first place. Hugo. His lips twisted briefly into a frown before he sighed.

He missed Mona. She would know what to say to make this all fall into perspective. He hoped the money he had sent was enough to deal with the new landlord knocking on her door, and that she was enjoying the stew he so loved in his absence. It's kind of funny to think that just yesterday those had been his only worries.

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

Today was the day! He was going to do it! Going to ask for the raise he and Mona so desperately needed. It was long overdue, considering how he was already a senior employee.

There was only one other employee that could come close to rivaling him that title. His eyes slid to the side where Hugo slouched as he fiddled with some sort of strange contraption. Hugo had technically been here longer than he had, but he didn’t quite count. Or at least his skills made him too hard to replace, otherwise that attitude would have gotten him kicked out ages ago.

Case and point. Hugo flipped the contraption into the air as Donella entered the room. “One totem, freshly stolen from a group of amateurs, as requested.” He caught it and held it up with a flourish.

“Don’t play with that!” Donella snapped. “It's worth more than you could ever dream!”

Oh good. Cyrus thought. That means she could afford to raise his salary, and he could ask without any trace of guilt in his conscience. He’d put so much time and effort into working here, he deserved it. And with the new landlord who kept raising the rent he and Mona certainly needed it.

Hugo rolled his eyes and set it on her desk with a clunk. Her own eyes narrowed. but Hugo seemed not to care. “Seems kinda boring for a supposed treasure, but hey, if the rich will pay, why not collect?” He checked his nails.

“Foolish child!” Donella snapped. Cyrus held himself still under the anger in her voice. A good thug is never intimidated after all. Hugo tried the same, but a slight wince gave him away. “This is one key to the eternal library! With it we can find wisdom beyond our wildest dreams!”

“An eternal library?” Hugo’s ears pricked up. “Like that nonsense those amateurs were going on about?”

“What do you mean?” Donella’s anger rearranged itself on her face into a guarded curiosity.

“Oh you know, they were going on about completing some research, looking in a book, that kind of thing.” Hugo shrugged and leaned back against the wall. Cyrus watched Donella’s eyes sharpen as they followed his movements. He had something she wanted, and he knew it.

Cyrus held back a sigh. He knew this song and dance far too well. And if the last six years of working with these two had taught him anything, it was that he was never going to get out of this meeting now. Not when Hugo had a chance to show off.

And Mona was making his favorite stew for dinner tonight too.

“Book?” Donella said, and started asking questions. Cyrus tuned them out in favor of dreaming of Mona’s special stew, complete with a heavy broth and potatoes. How he hoped there would be potatoes in it this week, they were getting more and more expensive.

“...Cyrus will follow along behind, and you will report to him every week.” Cyrus heard Donella say.

“What?” Hugo protested. “I don’t need a babysitter.” He crossed his arms.

What? Cyrus wanted to chime in. He wasn’t sure what exactly they had been talking about but any kind of trip was way out of his pay grade. The cost of hotels alone, and what was he going to tell Mona? This is why no one wants to work for you, he grumbled in his head.

Donella continued on, oblivious to the anger of her employee. “This mission is far too important to risk you screwing it up Hugo. I need Cyrus there to retrieve you and the book when things go wrong.”

Cyrus grit his teeth as he caught Hugo’s face fall for a fraction of a second before the perfect mask was back in place. A twinge of something sharp and protective filled his gut at the sight. Great move boss, he wanted to say. The mission hasn’t even started yet and you're already turning your team against each other. Do you even know how to do your own job?

“Fine,” Hugo straightened. “I’ll get going, right now in fact.” He shot Cyrus a smirk and Cyrus felt the strange emotion evaporate, replaced by annoyance. “Coming Cyrus?”

“Only if I get a raise,” Cyrus grunted. Wow, that was a lot blunter than he meant it to be. Mona would throw a fit. But hey, it’s not like she had another minion on call right now, and  if he was going to be dragged across the country he should at least get paid more for it.

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

He still can't believe Donella actually gave him that raise. She hadn’t even blinked before signing the check and sending it off to Mona. She must want this eternal library very, very badly. Which was great for her, but less great for Cyrus, who had to stand her in the cold and wind and wait for Hugo to somehow miraculously convince a group he’d robbed and stolen from to let him join.

In the privacy of his own mind, Cyrus half wanted to see him fail. See him finally learn the consequences to being a jerk to everyone around him. But that would not be good for the mission, which would make Donella very, very mad. Meaning that Cyrus would kiss his raise goodbye at best, and would be out of a job at worst. Which given how long it took to find a new thug job even with the guild, and the new landlord’s rates, was not good for him and Mona.

“And for Hugo,” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mona’s whispered in his ear. “You at least get to go home when Donella gets mad. He has to live there.”

He shook his head. That was easy for Mona to say. She’d never met Hugo, never experienced all the horrible treatment he gave to everyone around him.

----------

On his first day Donella had introduced him to Hugo he hadn’t known what to think of this gangly child standing awkwardly beside her. He looked like an overgrown puppy, still not used to his bigger size as he stumbled along beside Donella. It had reminded him of the kids in his own neighborhood to be honest, who thought they were tough when they stole a treat from the local market.

Cyrus had almost relaxed. Almost. Then the boy flashed him a razor sharp smile as he felt a sharp pain in his side, and he realized the boy had stuck him with a tack without even getting close. He’d grit his teeth and ignored the pain, it was too little to stop a proper thug, through the rest of Donella’s introduction.

Then Donella had turned her back, claiming she had better things to do and not to disturb her or leave his post. As her heels echoed down the hall, the boy coiled like a snake as he turned his full attention to Cyrus.

“So you’re from the Thug guild right?” A smile played on his lips but did not reach his eyes.

Cyrus grunted in agreement, eyeing the boy warily as he began to circle around him.

“What’s that cute little motto they put on all their cards?” He ran a hand up by Cyrus’s shoulders. Which he probably meant to be intimidating, but Cyrus could tell by his touch that there wasn’t any real muscle to back it up. “All the muscle and little...?” he trailed off and looked at Cyrus expectantly.

The word he was looking for was “brain.” but Cyrus said nothing. No thug worth his salt would respond to such juvenile taunts.

“I can’t hear you,” Hugo leaned forward, a hand over his ear. Suddenly an uncontrollable urge to scratch his shoulders filled his skin. He reached out instinctively to them to scratch.

Hugo laughed. “Amazing isn’t it? Itching powder of my own design! And that’s not all it does!” As Cyrus’s fingers reached his shoulders, they held fast. He tugged, but they did not move.

“Sticking solution!” Hugo held out a bottle dangling in one gloved hand. “You see,-” he gave a mock bow, “-you may have a lot of muscle, but I have a lot of brains.” He raised his head, eyes narrow. “And brain beats brawn. Always.”

“Hugo!” Donella’s voice called out.

Hugo straightened, all traces of malice gone. “Well on that note, I have to be off! Lovely to work with you!” Hugo dashed off, leaving Cyrus standing, arms still stuck.

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

The memory faded from Cyrus’s eyes as his ears caught the sound of rapid footsteps. Then the footsteps stopped. For a few seconds all was quiet, until a great cloud of purple smoke came from between the trees. Hugo stepped grandly from it, one hand raised. “Infiltration accomplished in record time, as expected.” He gave a little bow, then stood up and dusted off his hands. “I’ll bet you regret coming along now, don’t you?”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “They let you in?” That quickly? And let him wander alone over to Cyrus without anyone following? Something wasn’t right here. He tensed, glancing around for any signs of a trap or an ambush. Leave it to Hugo to walk them both into trouble on the first day.

Hugo rolled his eyes at his antics. “Contrary to what you may believe, I do know how to make people like me. I am a professional thief after all.” He placed a hand on his puffed up chest.

You are not nearly as good as you think you are, Cyrus thought. Half the time the only reason that works is because the nobility are so used to being flattered they don’t notice your sarcasm. Which is not a good sign for your new team. “Tell me everything,” he said.

Hugo deflated. “Everything?” he whined. Cyrus raised his other eyebrow. “Fine!” Hugo sighed dramatically as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

He explained how he’d caught them on the road. How he’d pointed out how useless they were and offered them both the totem and his help guiding them through. How they had welcomed him into the party.

“Just like that?” Cyrus frowned. There was no way it was that simple. Even just getting Mona to go on a date with him had taken weeks of work, and he’d had mad good looks and a personality that wasn’t made of fish oil on his side.

“Well,” Hugo laced his fingers. “The firecracker kid got a little mad, saying they weren’t idiots, and how people like me never change, blah blah.” That’s what you call a little? Cyrus’s frown deepened.

“But Goggles stuck out his hand and welcomed me on to the team!” Hugo added hastily. “And he’s the leader, so the kid didn’t press the issue.”

“He heard all of that, and he deliberately chose to let you join?” Cyrus’s eyebrows arched together in disbelief. After what had to be the worst recommendation letter in all of history, a.k.a. advice from anyone who’d talked to Hugo for five minutes?

“What can I say?” Hugo laughed as he struck a pose. “I guess I’m just irresistible.”

Right, and pigs flew. Hugo was charming, sure, but in a slippery way that only really fooled people once. Cyrus was half convinced that he’d have to skip town once he ran out of nobles to schmooze and trick. To let him join, after he’d stolen from them, when his companion was so against him...

There were only three reasons he could think for such strange behavior. The first, that Hugo was right and this ‘Goggles’ had just taken a liking to him. Teenagers could be stupid when it came to hormones. But these kids were smart enough to complete a trial Hugo hadn’t been able to do, and so were probably smart enough to know better.

The second, and far more likely version, was that ‘Goggles’ was planning to double cross Hugo before Hugo got the chance to double cross him. In which case, Cyrus had better stick close by and get Hugo out before he paid for his arrogance.

But there was a third option, rarer it's true, that could be at play. One Mona had understood so well. What had she said all those years ago?

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

After their first meeting, Hugo had continued to be a constant source of aggravation for Cyrus. He seemed to lurk around every corner, with some taunting words and some new prank. He’s lost track of how many stink bombs the boy had thrown at his head, or times he’d frozen him to the ground. He’d even stopped sitting down at lunch, as every seat he tried had either a tack or customized fart cushion, or worse.

Today the brat had somehow turned all his shoes to jelly, and he’d had to stumble home in weird, slippery shoes like some kind of drunk monkey. Mona had caught him in her arms as he’d fallen through the door, and listened as he cried and complained about all the problems Hugo was causing, and how he didn’t know what he’d done to make him hate him so much and wanted to quit like everyone else.

Mona had held him and listened. For a while they just sat there, until Mona tentatively said, “Maybe it’s not about you.”

He raised his head from her chest and looked up at her round face. “What?”

She bit her lip, the way she did when she was struggling to find the words to explain. “Maybe he’s mean to you, not because of anything you’ve done, but because of something he’s gone through. It could be a lot of reasons, but I’ll bet he’s not used to thinking of adult men as friendly, and just jumped to conclusions about you without getting to know you as a person.”

“So I should just put up with this because he’s not really angry at me?” Cyrus cried, searching her face with pleading eyes.

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “You don’t have to put up with anything. In fact you probably should quit tomorrow. We’ll figure out a way to make ends meet. I’m just saying that he doesn’t hate you, because he’s never met the real you.”

Cyrus had buried his head back in her chest, a pout on his lips. But those words stuck with him, and he decided to hang on for one more day.

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

“Maybe it’s not about you,” Cyrus murmured.

“What?” Hugo turned to look at him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

“This ‘Goggles,” Cyrus elaborated. How would Mona put it? “He’s letting you in because of something that’s happened in his past, not because of anything you did to win him over.”

“You mean he’s naive?” Hugo rolled his eyes and turned half away.

“That’s one option,” Cyrus crossed his arms.

“Yes, well.” Hugo looked down at his feet. “It’s to our advantage isn’t it? Whatever his reasoning is, if it gets me in, I’m in.” He shot Cyrus a tight smile.

Cyrus nodded his head. Because it was true. They weren’t here to make friends or psychoanalyze strangers. They were here on a mission for the crazy lady herself, and that wasn’t something either of them could take lightly.

Especially not Hugo.

[lowkeyhockey]

accidents (how we went from friends to this) - part ii

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Female Reader

Warnings: No sexual content, but Sid is 19 and reader is 16 (which is the age of consent in Canada)

Author’s Notes: Part II of Accidents, which is in turn part of the Can I Go (Where You Go) verse, but can be read as a standalone. I bumped this up in my queue because my gift exchange fic is killing me, and because someone asked me to :D i am # weak.

  Summary: Y/N gets Sid to attend prom with her, even if she insists on calling it a grad formal. The more things change, the more they stay the same. 

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

"Missing your grad formal's one thing, Squid," you tell him, and your cheeks are hurting from grinning so wide and you're probably looking like an idiot, but that just means that it's alright that your words match.  He's grinning back at you, teeth still too big for his face and his hair getting a little too long, but he's grinning and this is great. 

 "You're not allowed to miss mine." 

 Which doesn't make sense, you know it doesn't, but it's allowed. You've been good all year - you've been good your whole life, really - and what most of your classmates see as a boring pre-after party event you see as a chance to have fun. And Sid's actually – down for your dumb high school shenanigans. 

 He doesn't even mind your fiddling with his bow tie, a deep midnight blue that matches your dress, even though there had been nothing wrong with it and you both knew it. 

 It's like, tradition. Or at the very least a cliche.  If this was a movie, your mom would be tearing up and shouting at your dad to get the camera, and your dad would be ignoring her and trying to fix a steely eyed stare on Sid until he like. Promises to bring you back before curfew or whatever. 

 It would have been nice, is the thing. But you have this instead, and honestly – it's perfect. 

 "You could have taken me if Sid didn't wanna go," Taylor calls down from the stairs, as though hearing your thoughts, somehow managing to push out the words through the biggest pout you've ever seen on her. You step away from Sid to reach up for one dangling sneaker - curling your fingers around Tay's ankle and giving it a light squeeze. You take it as a good sign that she doesn't kick your hand away. 

"I wouldn't have asked Sid if you could have been my date instead," you promise her, trying to look appropriately serious, but it's hard to push that through your grin. 

 Which – okay, you're lying. If the dance wasn't 16+ only you would have asked both of them to be there. You would probably have made a girls' night of it with Taylor, with Sid playing the part of the exhausted chaperon he was clearly destined for. 

Sidney Crosby:  the second coming of Hockey Jesus, and world-weary chaperon to his sister and her best friend. It’s good for a man to have two destinies. You're pretty sure that at least 0.5 of your destiny was to keep the great Sidney Crosby grounded. 

Judging by the look on her face, Taylor's not, like, intensely convinced, and you look to Sid for some emotional support only to find him mirroring her expression. Only he looks even less impressed somehow, which is impressive enough for you to pat his cheek with your free hand. 

 (Your parents aren't there to take a picture of you but Trina is, and that's the first picture of the night: she was coming down the stair behind Taylor, and catches a shot of you holding on to both Tay and Sid. God, but you'd been a Grade A Clinger.)

 --------------------

 "Really thought you've moved me up from second-string, for a moment there," Sid tells you as he opens the car door for you, and you'd been standing closer to him for pictures just five minutes ago but he still gets to you, this way. 

 His smile is kind, the last time you saw him so dressed up in person was at the draft last year, and there's something about his hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it. It's because of one or two of that, or because of a combination of all three, but you lean in to kiss his cheek before you slide into the car. 

 (He's cleaned up nice - you kind of miss the scruff - but his aftershave more than makes up for it. )

 It's his mom's car, he's not so big a hotshot that he keeps a car just for summers in Nova Scotia. You love the familiarity of it. You wish Sid would buy one of his own here anyway, even if it's just a secondhand clunker, just so you know he'd keep coming back. 

 You tell him as much, grinning as you promise him that you'd be more than happy to babysit it for him while he's off setting new records in Pittsburgh, and he snorts at you but keeps his eyes on the road like the responsible driver that he is. You only wish you could be as focused, and not on his profile. 

 The curve of his smile, even from just his profile, is such a familiar thing to you. It warms your chest, makes your heart work double-time (presumably to work the heat off), makes you reach over to rest your hand against his thigh. 

 It's all muscle, under your light touch. Sid's been spending his summer pretty much alternating between working out and eating enough to feed about three lesser athletes, and the knowledge of it warms your cheeks. And then Sid reaches down to cover your hand with his - which is not at all responsible driver-y of him - and you're suddenly warm all over. 

 "Can you grab the cooler in the back? There's water in there," he says, interrupting your thoughts on - what? how solid he felt under your hand? But you're impressed all over again. 

 When you reach around to dig through the cooler, though, you find that he wasn't kidding about the water - there's nothing but bottles of water and chunks of ice in there, just when you thought Sid's decided to pregame with beer or - wine, or vodka, or whatever. 

 He's the pro-athlete, not you. You don't know what people drink to get turnt at parties. 

 "You're such a dork," you tell him, too-fond about it as you fish a bottle out and open it to take a sip - careful to brush away lipstick marks after - before offering it to him. He shakes his head and you close the bottle again, putting it in the cup holder between you. 

 "Don't want you hungover tomorrow," he says, and it's your turn to shake your head. 

 "Can't get hungover if you don't get me something to drink," you point out, teasing, and he laughs. "Useless," you add, the word too fond to be mean, even though you'd tried your hardest. 

 When you lean back into your seat, hands clasped neatly in your lap like you're afraid of wrinkling up your dress somehow, it's his turn to reach over between you, his hand resting warm against your thigh. 

 "That's not my job, Y/N. Besides, the water came in pretty handy already." There's a steadiness in his gaze - unexpected, unfamiliar - when he glances over at you, holds your gaze for just a moment. "You looked a little overheated there." 

 You're blushing properly then - you can feel it, you're hoping it's not too visible in the early evening light - and he looks - like he's thinking about it, or you, or the way you're acting like an idiot even though he's just there as a friend.  

 "Eyes on the road, Sidney," you manage after a moment - too long a moment, maybe - and he's shaking his head at you again, still with that non-expression expression on his face that you don't quite know how to read. 

 When did he even get that look? God knows Sidney's never been complicated.  

 He loves hockey, loves his family, loves you - at least a little, but he has to, with how many hours he's spent listening to you bitch about college applications and problems with your basketball team or friend groups or lab partners. He works hard, and takes care of the things and the people he loves. He - when the fuck did he get hot?

 You're still confused when you look away, look out the windshield for the first time since you got into the car, realize then - with a sharp jolt of embarrassment - that he'd only been looking at you because of a red light. It was only fair, considering how you'd been staring at him the whole way there. 

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

Despite the hand he has around yours, you're separated as soon as you enter the hotel ballroom your school's rented out for the dance. You give his hand a quick double-squeeze - your standard signal asking if he wants you to set up an escape plan - but he responds by letting yours go, turning with an easy grin to greet some of the guys who've run up to crowd around you. 

 There's guys from the school baseball team, some guys you know used to play street hockey with him, childhood friends dressed up like James Bonds and Bond Girls. Sid transferred to Shattuck's in like, grade 9, but everyone still knows and loves him. Everyone's still proud to know him, and you know Sid's still a little confused and a lot thankful for all the support, and you're more than happy to share him. 

 It's an excuse, anyway, to run and catch up with your girls, barely giving enough time for everyone to gush compliments over everyone else's dresses and hair and makeup (never mind that you had all gone shopping together, and that most of the girls had gotten dressed up at Annika's place) before catching everyone's attention by blurting out, lingering embarrassment still too strong to be subtle about it, "is it me or did Sid get hot?" 

 You're met with a couple of blank looks, a couple of raised eyebrows, look slowly around the circle your bodies make for a face that has an answer when strong hands spin you around - it's Sara, in a black feathery dress and thick eyeliner that makes her eyes look huge despite the narrow-eyed look she's giving you, hands like clamps on your shoulders. 

 Or maybe you're - being oversensitive. You feel about ready to vibrate out of your skin, antsy and uncomfortable, and unhappy about it. It doesn't overwrite or replace the giddy happiness you'd felt getting dolled up at the Crosbys' house, exactly - it just rests on top like a blanket, or like a layer of powder, changing the look of it. 

 What is it with things changing?

 God help you - are you finally panicking about graduating, about moving away from your friends and your halfway-empty childhood home, about starting anew like you've been wanting to for years?

 Sara's hands tighten on you in a steady double-squeeze, and just like that, you feel your anxiety fade away. She's been your captain for both basketball and softball for like, three straight seasons. She knows better than almost anyone how to get you to cut your shit out. 

 When the slow grin spreads across her face, though, it's your turn to narrow your eyes at her – you know how to get Sara to cut her shit out, but she's a lot more trouble than you are, and you had plans on actually enjoying your grad formal. 

 All she says, though is a sly "aren't you glad you didn't figure that out until after you asked him out?" 

 and you're set to - scold, or protest, or agree when you feel a hand press against your back, large and warm and solid. 

 You know who it is without turning around - you recognize his aftershave, you realize with something like slow-growing horror - but you're saved from having to ask him how much he'd overheard by the girls jumping in - and God, everything in the world could be changing but you'd still have your girls, and thank fuck for that. 

 Annaya's dating someone in his draft year, though the guy spent the season in the AHL, and she starts off the shit-talking by teasing him about his penalty minutes. It's not mean, is the thing - the girls know to stay away from asking him about the shitty end to his season - but you still worry, just a little. 

 You lean, just a little, against his side, just to feel if he was tensing up or feeling uncomfortable, and he slides his arm around your waist in easy acceptance. 

 --------------------

 You tell him about it after, because of course you do, because he's one of your best friends in the entire world and there's no one you'd rather have gone to the formal with, because his hands on your waist as you sway together on the dance floor could be made a deadly weapon, because his warm breath against the side of your head makes you feel antsy all over - but in a nice way. 

 And you don't want anything to spoil this night for either of you. 

 When you give in to it - you've never been a coward, of course you were going to give in - it's with an exhale that's almost a sigh, and Sid makes a questioning sound in the half-second before you shift to rest your head against his shoulder, relaxing even more completely in his arms. 

 It feels like completion, like belonging. 

 (And you don't really feel brave enough to look him in the eye ask you're asking him this, but ––) 

 "You know you got hot, right?" you ask into the side of his neck, voice soft. He starts a little, but when he starts to pull away you give him a light pinch through his tux jacket. You smile against his neck as you do it, both hear his surprised laughter and feel it all around you, and melt deeper into him. 

 "You totally do, you asshole," you say, and you're laughing along with him. It feels better this way, with that out in the open. "Give a girl a head's up next time, eh? You almost gave me a heart attack, when you opened the car door for me." 

 "When we left my place or when we got here?" he wants to know, and you let out a small huff of amused disapproval. 

 "You know I was like, drooling, by the time we got in the car." Lucky thing he'd brought all that water, come to think of it, because you'd been thirsty. You can feel him blushing, heat coming off him in waves, practically, but that's alright - he'd gone and packed a ridiculous amount of water. He can re-hydrate later, it's fine.

 It's not vey eco-friendly, but still very much appreciated. 

 "You look gorgeous too, you know," he says, and he sounds - careful, for a reason you can't quite wrap your head around. Not that you want to look into it too deeply. You prefer making another disapproving sound, briefly lifting your hand from his shoulder to physically brush his words away. 

 "I'm not fishing for compliments, Sid." 

 You pull back to look him in the eye, to flash him a quick grin, ignoring the disapproving sound he lets out himself. "Besides, I spent two hours getting ready. Ten, if you count dress-shopping and the spa day and everything. I know I look hot." 

 "So it's just that I'm not allowed to look nice," he teases, voice low - and when did his voice get low?

 "Hot," you correct, because of course you have to. It's - honesty, or just the principle of the thing. His smile grows at that, and you have to feel that with your free hand, have to let your palm curve against his cheek and your thumb brush against the corner of his lips. 

 "I asked you for a friend-date, you know. Not a date-date." You can feel his expression shift at that, under your fingertips, and you wrinkle your nose back at him. "That's how I asked, I mean. But I don't really feel like being just friends, not right now." 

 He studies you for a second, his hazel eyes warm and serious at once, looking like he's trying to understand you. Looking like he's wanting but uncertain, like he's the innocent high school student being propositioned by an older man. And - you're not speaking Greek, Squid, Jesus. 

 "I like you, you know I love you, but -" and you wave those words away, too, before something else breaks. 

 "But you're not looking for anything serious? Dummy," you tease, because come on - you wrote the script for him yourself, years ago, for each time Sid tried to do normal teen things like go out for dinners or to the movies or to the rare school formal with a pretty girl and would end up with having too-high expectations from said girls placed on his shoulders. 

 "I'm not either. You're a hotshot NHL player, you're going to kill it in Pittsburgh, and I'm already so, so proud of you." His brows are furrowed, just a little, and you pat his cheek - twice, light, just enough to get him to focus. 

 "Don't go fishing for compliments, Sid." You pause, considering it, then add, "your hockey's always been hot – I guess it was just a surprise to think you're hot like this." 

 "I've always thought you're beautiful," he says, because he wouldn't be Sid - your Sid - if he wasn't constantly trying to one-up you, but you preen - exaggerating it just a tiny bit - under his words.  

 "I know, it's a terrible burden." But let's get to complimenting your brains. "Anyway, I'm going to uni soon, and I'm not going to be doing it in the States." For one, you're pretty sure Taylor would kill you for even considering it.  For another – you don't want to. 

 You've been aiming for most of your life to earn one of U of Toronto's iron rings, and everyone - Taylor and Sid especially - knew it. Dating a NHL player - even if he's, like, the future of the league - has no part in your five year plan. 

 The thought of your future makes you tense up, just a little, the familiar anxiety gnawing away at your edges, but that just makes this feel even more right by comparison. 

 "I love you as a friend, but this doesn't really feel like just a friend-date anymore." Because Sid might be the one halfway to hotshot-dom but you're still the one who's going to have to keep this on track, probably. You fix your gaze on his - gaze steady, gaze wanting, something like shyness to it but the shyness is overwhelmed by everything else. 

 "So when we get out of here, do you want to do some date-date stuff?" 

 He grins then, a little shy and a little amused, and wanting, and you grin back, feeling brave about it. 

[bangtanstanst]

Act Natural | 6

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six • part seven

You didn’t exactly plan on dating someone you work for. But, now that it is happening, all you can do is keep it between the two of you – no matter how hard that ends up being.

≽ pairing: namjoon x reader ≽ genre: secret relationship au, fluff, some angst I GUESS ≽ warnings: none ≽ word count: 3k

a/n: hewwooo, I hope you’re doing well!♥♥♥ I’ve just been screeching over tae’s new song so fjksddfjkl ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this fic!! It’s already the second to last part, time flies :’)

›› tag list: @dimplemono @peachesandcreamsthings @alinerl @moxxie84 (unable to tag) @sugasheart​ @sweetcrvture​; let me know if you wanna be added! ‹‹

masterlist

“You told her?” Namjoon repeats with wide eyes, parted lips. His words are loud, louder than you expected – your gaze flickers to Seokjin and Yoongi walking just in front of you, your other colleagues making their way down the narrow corridor alongside you. There’s too much noise for them to be able to hear his words, however, and you’re relieved to be heading closer and closer to the loud, booming music that’s playing on the stage you’re approaching – it sure would’ve been incredibly interesting if they heard your conversation. “Voluntarily?”

You heave a sigh, running a hand through your hair as you fix your eyes ahead of you, trying not to look too nervous. “I did,” you reply, briefly lifting your eyes to his. He’s fumbling with the sleeves of his jacket, pulling them straight before dropping his hands down to his sides, then doing it again. “But she’s known since last night and she hasn’t let anything on,” you add in a whisper, eyes flickering to a security guard who is walking particularly close to you – she seems to be busy with other things.

“How do we know she won’t slip up in the future, though?” he insists, shaking his head. You look up at him once more, noticing the faint outlines of his under-eye bags underneath his makeup. The corners of his lips are turned down, he’s frowning, his shoulders are slumping – he’s just as tired as you are.

But you know asking about it won’t help, especially not minutes before a performance. The both of you can only take solace in the fact that today is the last day of this damn work trip.

“We don’t,” you simply reply instead, shaking your head. You turn a corner and end up in the wings of the music show’s stage. It’s dark and you have to blink to adjust to the low lighting, though you don’t lose sight of Namjoon. “But I trust her.”

He heaves a sigh as he comes to a stop, turning to let you pat a last layer of powder on his face even though you already did that back in the dressing room. His eyes are averted, focused on something behind you, and his eyebrows furrowed, his lips sealed – you know he’s just thinking, but you still feel the need to explain yourself. To tell him why you’re taking this risk.

“I just –” You pause to let out a sigh, unsure if your words will reassure him at this point. “Haven’t you talked about it with Yoongi? Or Jimin, or Hoseok?”

His eyes flicker back to you and he tilts his head, his frown deepening. “Sometimes,” he replies slowly, blinking at you. A loud bass starts to boom in your ears and he has to raise his voice to make himself heard – at least you can be assured that the noise makes it impossible for his words to travel much further than two steps. “But I don’t see how that has anything to do with –”

“It feels nice, right?” you interject, your sponge patting his cheek one too many times. You keep your eyes on it nevertheless, eyebrows furrowed subtly, hoping anyone else would assume it’s simply a concentrated frown. “Talking about it with your friends? With people other than me?”

Namjoon hesitates for a second, blinking at you. You tear your eyes away from the sponge to look up at him instead, chewing on your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

Finally, he slowly nods – he still looks wary, his subtle frown looking almost curious.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and let a sigh escape your lips, tilting your head. “I didn’t– I couldn’t have that with anyone.”

His confusion melts away almost instantly, his frown softening. Someone brushes past you, accidentally elbowing you in the side, but you quickly regain your balance, lowering the sponge to simply fiddle with it. “And don’t get me wrong, I love talking to you and spending time with you and all that, but… it was really getting difficult, not to be able to freely talk about us with her,” you add with a soft sigh, looking back up at him. “It felt kinda lonely sometimes.”

He sighs, nodding slowly as you lower your eyes once more. “Sorry, I should’ve known,” he mutters. The music cuts out, there’s loud cheering that follows. Someone shouts a vague sentence from a few feet away – they’re almost up.

“It’s fine,” you reply, lifting your head to send him a smile. A staff member comes up behind him to check his mic and you clear your throat, taking a step back.

“I’ll make it up to you when we’re back home.” His hand moves up to reach out – his eyes flicker to the staff member still messing with his microphone and he changes his mind, scratching the back of his neck instead. “And I really am sorry,” he adds, sending you a small, hopeful smile.

You return the sentiment, nodding at him rather than shouting the reply. His smile widens nevertheless and he soon lets himself be ushered off, joining the others to take his position on the stage. You step back to free up the path for the background dancers, and you look down at your feet as you let out a slow breath – it might not have been the best moment ever to break the news to him, but you’re glad you’ve gotten it over with.

“How did he take it?”

Your head jolts up once more and you look aside to see Yari come to a stop next to you, leaning against the wall behind you. “Pretty well, I guess,” you reply, heaving a sigh as a deep bass starts to drum through you, the members’ voices ringing in your ears, the audience’s screams almost deafening.

You both ignore it, however, and Yari simply beams at you. “That’s great, right?”

A smile curls at your lips and you nod – her cheerfulness is contagious. “Yeah, so get ready for me to kick you out of the apartment in the middle of the night,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow at her

She scoffs, elbowing you in the side. “I’m not gonna go on a midnight walk just because you wanna do it at our place,” she shoots back, smirking at you. You purse your lips, laughing into your hand as you elbow her side, feeling your cheeks flush. “Don’t worry, I’ll just cover my ears.”

You’d think that you’d want to get some sleep after a work trip like the one you had. You’d think, indeed. But only a day later, Namjoon texts you out of your apartment for a ‘surprise date’ and you somehow end up walking around in your sweats in the outskirts of the city in the middle of the night. Yes, you have work again in the morning, and yes, you are both wasting precious hours of sleep, but you were still awake anyway. Might as well make the most of it.

Gravel crunches underneath your sneakers as you slowly walk through a deserted park, stretching your legs after sitting in the back row of an empty movie theatre for almost two hours. The tree branches intertwine up above you to form a canopy of leaves, letting through only small stripes of moonlight here and there. Nevertheless, the street lanterns that line the path illuminate your surroundings just enough so you don’t trip over anything.

“So then I just kind of hit my head on the keyboard and came up with the melody that way,” Namjoon finishes, bright chuckles spilling from his lips.

You’re covering your mouth with the milkshake in your hand as you laugh, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth as you walk. “See, that’s how you know you’re a real pro,” you say, barely holding back more laughter as you sip through the straw. “Once you make a song through that method, you can just pretty much do anything.”

Namjoon laughs, eyes flickering up to the leaves above your head, to the stars visible in the gaps between them. “If only.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, taking another sip of milkshake. “You sound like you’re at your wits’ end,” you tease, a smile tugging at your lips.

He laughs and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What, you wouldn’t want to be able to do everything?”

With a grin, you shrug. “Of course I would,” you reply, swishing your milkshake around in your cup as he takes a sip from his own drink. “I’d learn all the languages in the world and do fun things and get all the sleep I wanted, and spend way more time with you, all the while keeping up with this job.”

He chuckles, falling silent for a moment. A lone car drives past the trees that line the outside of the park, its engine fading away as quickly as it started. “Yeah, sounds pretty cool,” he says softly, his grip around your hand growing just a little tighter.

“So what would you do?” you ask, glancing up at him as you turn around a bend and the exit of the park comes into sight. The streets beyond it are already visible and you have to suppress a disappointed sigh, realising it’s almost time to go home.

He looks aside at you and grins. “Well, first thing would be to be your boyfriend anywhere I like,” he starts, tilting his head at you. Moonlight breaks through the canopy of leaves up above you and shimmers in his eyes – you let out a short breath, feeling your heart skip a beat and a smile teasing over your lips. “And secondly, it would be to just know the whole choreo after one run-through.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Way too obvious,” you decide. “Everyone would figure out your secret like that,” you add, raising your hand to snap your fingers and realising you’re holding a cup, so you simply take a sip to mask it.

“Who says I’d keep it a secret?” he shoots back, raising an eyebrow at you as he takes the straw of his drink between his lips and sucks it.

With a laugh, you shrug, continuing to put one foot in front of the other and making the gravel underneath your soles crunch. “Yeah, I guess it’s better to just get it out right away. We’re not the best at keeping secrets in any case, so…”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m –” he starts, though he quickly interrupts himself and hums thoughtfully, taking another sip of his milkshake. “Right, I guess so,” he says after a moment of silence, though he’s smiling as he speaks. “At least we’re bad at keeping secrets together.”

You can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles in your throat as you exit the park, leaving the peace and quiet behind to walk over to your car. “No comment,” you simply tell him, at which he snorts.

“Hmmm, of course,” he says, loudly slurping the last of his milkshake out of his cup and making you laugh once more.

You come to a reluctant stop at your car, letting go of Namjoon’s hand to dig your car keys out of your pocket. You stare down at them as your fingers start to fidget – you’d rather put them right back into your pocket, grab Namjoon’s hand and pull him back into the park for another walk, though you know you’re already way past the time you said you’d go home and –

“You know, if I could do anything,” Namjoon starts softly, making you jolt out of your thoughts as he takes a step closer. Your head snaps up to look at him – your nose almost brushes his chin, your eyes wide in surprise. “I’d make this night last a lot longer,” he adds, smiling at you as he gently brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

His eyes are still twinkling even in these dull yellow street lanterns, and you can help but smile back. “Yeah, me too,” you reply through a sigh, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him, just briefly – but even so, you relax into it, his warm touch doing more than enough to melt your tension away. “But on that note,” you mutter as you pull away, eyes fluttering back open. Namjoon’s eyes are still closed and he’s smiling – your heart leaps at the sight and almost pull him back in for another kiss. “Let’s go the hell home.”

He hums, leaning back in to capture your lips with his himself. His embrace is warm, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you run your fingers through his hair. You melt into him so easily – it feels as natural and warm and comfortable as crawling into bed after a long day. His nose brushes your cheek, his eyelashes tickle your skin, and you ignore the sound of another car driving past in the background, simply tightening your arms around him, your grip tightening around your car keys–

Your car beeps loudly and you jolt apart, wincing at the sudden interruption – you’ve accidentally pressed the button on your keys to unlock it. Letting out a sigh, you lean back against your car and purse your lips, a small smile breaking out. “We should really go home,” you say softly as you look up at him, your cheeks flushing.

He chuckles, nodding just before he presses another kiss to your cheek. “Yeah.”

You’re grinning as he walks around the car, slipping into the passenger’s seat as you sit down behind the wheel, the both of you buckling your seatbelts in silence. With a sigh, Namjoon leans back while you start the car, and you see his eyes fluttering closed as you drive out of your parking spot.

“Told you we should’ve waited a week first,” you mutter with a pout, focusing your gaze on the road ahead, on trying to keep your eyes open as you navigate the city streets.

“No, no, I’m just… resting my eyes,” he replies, smiling as he lets out a slow breath. “They’re exhausted from looking at your beauty all night.”

You snort loudly. “Wow, smooth,” you remark through a laugh, looking left and right before you drive across an intersection. “What corner of the internet did you get that from?”

He keeps his eyes closed as his head lolls to the side, though the smile teased over his lips remains. “Came up with it all by myself,” he replies, eyes fluttering open so he can look at you with that adorable lazy grin on his face – though his face quickly lights up and he digs into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “I should write that down, actually.”

You laugh, turning a corner and already seeing Namjoon’s tall apartment building looming up ahead. “I’m glad you can still get inspired with all this sleep deprivation going on.”

He grins at you, looking up at you from underneath his eyelashes. “Half my work happens while sleep-deprived, babe,” he replies, focusing on his phone as he types. “It’s really a wonderful thing.”

With a snort, you look into your mirrors before pulling over, just a block away from the entrance to his building. “Yeah, sounds absolutely wonderful,” you remark sarcastically, turning the key in the ignition to switch off the engine – and the car falls silent. “Now get the hell to bed before you get too sleep-deprived to do anything,” you add, reaching out to poke his dimple.

He laughs, slipping his phone into his pocket – but he doesn’t make a move to get out of the car. Instead, his smile slowly widens and he sits up – “Hey, I have an idea.”

You raise your eyebrows, trying to scan his face in an attempt to predict how bad this idea actually is. “Why do I feel like this is one of those ideas we shouldn’t even be talking about?” you reply slowly, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Because it’s risky and fun,” he replies, leaning just a tiny bit closer. You nod slowly, narrowing your eyes as you wait for him to continue. “I’ll sneak you up there so we can make this night a little longer.”

Oh god. You breathe out a laugh and start to shake your head, though he’s quick to lean forward and press a kiss to your cheek. You let out a sigh, subconsciously leaning into his touch as your eyes flutter closed – he knows exactly how to tempt you. And you’re much too weak to resist any of it this late at night.

“We’re already here anyway,” he adds when you still don’t respond, and you laugh once more. He kind of has a point. Maybe. You’d make the counter-offer to go back to your place instead, but you wouldn’t want to wake up Yari, and you’re sure people would get suspicious if Namjoon stayed away all night. “We’ve done it before, everyone is already asleep anyway…”

Letting out a slow breath, you look down at your hands. “I need sleep, Joon,” you reply slowly, glancing up at him and shaking your head once more. “I don’t want to accidentally poke you in the eye because I’m too sleepy tomorrow.”

“We’ll make sure you get back home on time, Cinderella,” he mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Promise.”

You chuckle, squeezing your eyes shut. This is a mistake, such a big mistake. Just because it’s gone right the three times you’ve done this, doesn’t mean it’s not a big fucking mistake.

“Alright,” you relent nevertheless, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep your smile at bay. “But I’m not leaving my shoes at the door like last time.”

The only problem you don’t quite remember, though, is that despite all the plans you can come up with to get you back out of the apartment and home, it’s really quite easy to fall asleep in Namjoon’s arms – even if you’re at his place, in his bedroom, with an unlockable door.

Even if it really would’ve been so much safer to go back to your place instead.

prev • next

a/n: thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think and what you think/hope/fear is gonna happen in the next (and last) part👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 I hope you have a wonderful day/night!!♥♥♥

masterlist

[serpentlopez]

All These Broken Pieces

Who: Eliana & Sam ( @serpentevans )

What: Secrets. Pain. Truth. 

When: Nov 29, Night

Where: At the Wyrm, primarily the restroom

Notes: TW: Mentions of drugs, overdose, abandonment -- warning: she’s a pretty hefty/long scene.

Eliana

Eliana stood outside of the Whyte Wyrm and suddenly had a gut full of reservations. She looked up at the building, surrounding by the motorcycles of the people she considered family, but it felt like she didn't belong here. After everything that she'd been through, she had thought she was ready to come back but knowing that she hadn't even been able to convince herself to put on her Serpent jacket was a sign that she probably wasn't. She hadn't even ridden her motorcycle over, not having been on it since the night of her overdose.

Deciding that maybe she wasn't ready to see everyone, Eli turned and took a step away so quickly that she ran straight into a hard body with enough force to knock her backwards. "Ow, fuck," she groaned as her ankle gave and she fell to the graveled ground. Looking up to see who she'd run into as her hand curled around her slightly throbbing ankle, her initial reaction to snap disappeared as she realized who it was. "Sam, hey. Sorry about that. I didn't see you there. You okay?" She asked, not trying to get up just yet.

Sam

Sam had been free for the night, with Stacey going to a sleepover with a few of her friends and Stevie away in Greendale for the night on a school field trip. He only had to worry about his mother, who was likely sleeping at home at the moment. So Sam found himself back at the Wyrm, which had become a bit of a safe haven for him. He was free to do what he wanted with anyone taking note or judging him, which was exactly what he needed.

He'd just gotten back from the bathroom, freshly high off of his new purchase from Eric. He felt euphoric at the moment, happy and light, wanting to go back in and do some more. Some how in the midst of it all, Sam had gotten sloppy and forgot to wipe his face once he was down, a bit of the white residue left over under his nose. Before he realized it, Sam had bumped into someone, making them fall to the ground. He bent down to help them up, noticing it was Eliana. He instictively rubbed his nose, hoping that she hadn't noticed what was there, "E-Eliana! What are you doing here? Let me just help you up."

Eliana

Bumping into one of the Serpents out here instead of facing all of them inside was a lot easier to handle, albeit she hadn't planned on literally running into him. Eli recognized the way he wiped at his nose but immediately shook her head. Just because she was out in public didn't mean she could let herself see that everywhere. Especially with the number of times she'd snorted white powder up her nose in the Wyrm. This was Sam, she reminded herself. He didn't do that stuff anyway. 

"I uh, I was just.." She looked towards the building, tried not to frown, and then looked back at him, "..being a pussy, I guess. Trying to convince myself to go in." Flexing her foot to make sure she hadn't hurt it when she'd twisted and hit the ground, Eli nodded with approval and held her hand out to him, letting him help her back to her feet. "Thanks," she said, wiping her palms on her black jeans, knocking off bits of dirt and pebbles. "I haven't been in since I--" overdosed.. died.. detoxed at the rehab center "--got back."

Sam

The bag of coke was feeling even more heavy than it usually did in his pocket. It was one thing for Sam to do it, but he wasn't too keen on letting anyone else know about his secret. Eli was his friend, but she was also friends with everyone else he knew, including Peyton. All he could hope was that she'd somehow missed the sign. His brows furrowed at her response, "Oh, I mean, I can go in with you if you'd like, I was about to go back inside myself." He omitted the part about going back in to pop a pill and do another line. Sam helped her up, making sure she was okay, "Where'd you go? Sorry, I've been kind of out of the loop with everything going on with my family."

Eliana

Eliana looked over her shoulder at the Wyrm and wondered why it made her feel so incredibly nervous. She knew some people were aware of what she'd gone through and there was a certain level of shame that was eating her up from the inside. Maybe she should have waited for Ale to come with her, but he'd been so incredible with helping her and she'd wanted to see if she could do something for herself. Maybe it was too much too soon, but if she had Sam there.. 

"You wouldn't mind?" She asked, turning back to him and trying not to fidget with her fingers. She never had nervous ticks before. His question made her heart race slightly. If he didn't know, maybe she didn't tell him. It might be nice having someone around who wasn't aware of her monumental fuck up. Breezing past his question about where she'd been, Eli asked, "What's going on with your family?" Her brows knit together and she held up a hand, "Actually, I have a feeling this might be better with a drink." She gathered her courage. "Let's talk inside."

Sam

Sam hadn't been really paying attention to what was going on in town, besides the really obvious things of course. Beyond the effects of the drugs, Sam could tell Eliana was nervous, which is why he wanted to help her out, "Of course not." Sam wiped his nose again, feeling the itchiness that often came with the high. He knew if he had to rehash the mess of his family, he'd just need more in his system, so like Eliana, he breezed through the question, "I agree, a drink would be good." Sam nodded, leading her into the bar, and walking towards the counter, taking a seat and ordering a round of shots. He figured he'd give her the short version of his life's latest mess, downplaying it as much as he could, "To make it short, my dad left us, and the rest of my family hasn't been taking it well."

Eliana

Alcohol wasn't cocaine. In fact, it was very far from cocaine, and she'd been perfectly capable of drinking for years without succumbing to the drug that gave her such an incredible high. But she tried not to think about the high. Walking inside the Wyrm was a little awkward. No one gave her strange glances, or started to whisper to themselves, and for that she was grateful. Climbing up on the bar stool, Eli angled herself so she could see Sam but still be mostly hidden from the rest of the people there. Thankful for the shots he ordered, she watched them being poured and then reached for one as he spoke. His words made her eyes narrowed and then she wrinkled her nose, "Fucking Dwight, are you serious?" She shook her head, "What a fucking dick." Raising her shot a little, she offered it in a toast, "Then I guess this is to self-centered, asshole fathers."

Sam

Sam knew there were dangers with drinking and the amount of pills and powder in his system, but he ignored it, figuring a few drinks wouldn't hurt. He'd done it the first night, which really only caused a nosebleed and a hangover. Sam's eyebrows raised at her response. No one had really reacted like that, except for maybe his brother. He didn't know if he hated his dad, but he definitely hated how his father had destroyed his family with the snap of his fingers and a shitty note. "Yeah," Sam nodded, letting out a dry laugh and picking up one of the shots, bringing it up to hers. "Oh, I'll cheers to that." Sam clinked his glass with hers, throwing the drink down the back of his throat.

Eliana

With the number of asshole fathers around, Eliana was honestly not surprised. Daniel, Bruce, Dwight, James July, and even her own. Men in this town mostly turned into horrible people when they had kids. The fact Sam's dad ducked out made her angry, more than sad, but she hated that knowing the person Sam was, he was picking up the slack from his father's recklessness. Clinking her glass with his, Eli stared at the shot for a moment as she lifted it to her lips. She could smell the bitter aroma from the potent alcohol and for a split second, a rush of ice cold fear swirled in her belly before she washed it away as she swallowed the liquor in one gulp. "Do you have any idea where he went?" She asked as she put her glass down and motioned to the bartender so he'd keep them refilled. "Or did he just disappear into the wind like Bruce?"

Sam

Sam had always grown up thinking his father was different. He was more of a family man than the others, always showing up for his kids and his wife. But Sam thought he had been completely wrong about everything now, since it was clear that Dwight Evans only cared when it was easy for him. Sam shrugged, taking another shot and swallowing it, "Beats me. He left my mom a note, some bullshit about him leaving being best for the family." Sam couldn't help but feel anger whenever his father came up, which he was trying so hard most days to suppress, "Probably pulled a play out of Bruce's book. They were always close anyways." Sam's hand fiddled in his pocket with the plastic bag of cocaine, secretly wishing he was alone so he could let the edge off, knowing that alcohol had long stopped working for him.

Eliana

At Sam's reply, Eli just shook her head. Even the guys that could be nice weren't. They always picked themselves and what they wanted above anything else. Just like her father had done. He never cared when she cried, or screamed. He never comforted her, or stopped when she begged him to. He didn't see her as a person. He saw her as a thing, just like the men he gave her to saw her as a thing - and used her as one too. Grabbing the next shot, she downed it quickly, hoping the sting of alcohol down her throat would drown away the memory of older men and her aching body. But it didn't. So she took another and tried to focus on Sam instead of herself. "Well, I'm sorry he did that to your family, to you. If he were here, I'd be happy to punch--" Looking at him, she noticed a little color draining from his face and Eli put her hand on Sam's wrist. "Are you okay? You look a little--pale."

Sam

Sam could tell that her anger about his father wasn't purely based off of his situation, making him think she had something else going on, maybe with her own family. But he didn't want to pry. Sam could feel himself getting a little lightheaded, sweating a bit. The drinks weren't really agreeing with his system, and he couldn't help how his body reacted. He swallowed hard, taking another shot and swigging it, trying to ignore the feeling. He listened to Eli, nodding his head and trying to stay connected. His palms were getting sweaty, so he wiped them down on his shirt. "What? No, I-I'm fine, really. It's just kind of hot in here today."

Eliana

Eli had just wrapped her fingers around a fourth shot glass when he spoke, and she looked around because it actually felt a little chilly in here to her. Maybe it was her. But she looked around and no one seemed to be as overheated as Sam was. He seemed a little jittery suddenly, and she pressed her lips together. "Are you sure?" She asked, reaching up to touch his clammy forehead. "You don't look so good." Maybe he'd had too much to drink too fast? She had no idea how many drinks he'd had before she showed up, and even her three shots had warmed her veins enough to make her think she should slow down. Putting the fourth shot down unswallowed, she motioned towards the bathrooms. "Come on. Let's get you a wet paper towel or something to cool you off."

Sam

Sam took a deep breath, trying to relax himself, ordering a glass of water. Sam jumped the tiniest bit when he felt her cold hand on his forehead. "Yeah, I'm sure." Sam took in another breath, gulping down the water in front of him. His whole body was feeling itchy and jittery, and he rubbed his nose again, sniffling and averting his eyes from her gaze. He was starting to feel dizzy, gripping onto the counter top. He looked over at Eliana finally, nodding as she motioned towards the bathrooms. The same place he'd been only a few hours ago snorting up lines of coke that were likely the reason he felt so terrible at the moment.

Eliana

Her head was telling her that she recognized the way he was acting but Eli refused to believe it. She couldn't. Because this was Sam and he didn't do the same awful things that she did. She was the fuck up and Sam took care of people, took care of his family. Mentally scolding herself for even considering it, Eli jumped off of the chair. She put her hand on his back just in case he wavered as she led him to the back of the Wyrm, moving past someone who just walked out. Pushing open the bathroom door closest to them, Eli walked him over to sink and quickly grabbed a couple paper towels. She ran them under the sink to soak them, wrung them out, and then turned to him, putting it down on the back of his neck. "There. How does that feel?"

Sam

Sam followed Eli to the bathroom. He was scared shitless she would find out about why he was like this, knowing that she'd probably be so disappointed in him. He'd always been so good, up until now that is. As she put the towels on his neck, Sam let out a sigh, feeling a bit relieved. He'd felt a lot better already, and it would've stayed that way if he would've just stayed in his place. But as the towel came onto his neck, he'd ended up bumping into the wall near him, leaning onto it to help with the dizziness. He hadn't even noticed the bag come out of his pocket at first, until he heard the soft tap on the ground of the bag falling. Sam mumbled "Shit," under his breath and quickly bending down to pick it up and stuff it back in his pocket. As he returned up, he met Eliana's eyes, quickly averting them.

Eliana

"Hey, be care--" But her words easily cut off the moment a quick movement caught her attention. Dark eyes followed the movement until she found herself looking at it... at a baggie.. with a product she knew very well. Her chest constricted and it felt like she couldn't breathe, or didn't want to. Just as Eli was moving to reach, Sam quickly scooped it up and shoved it into his pocket, but she had already seen it. "Sam," her voice was small, almost broken, and very shaky. "What.." No, there was no point asking what it was. She knew. "Why do you have that?" Pointing towards his pocket, it felt like the room was suddenly constricting, like all the air had been torn out.

Sam

Sam was officially panicking, especially with how badly she was reacting. He paced around the bathroom, his hands running through his hair and covering his face. No one was supposed to know. It was supposed to be a secret, no one was supposed to find out. He was freaking out, praying that she would just forget all of this happened. But he had a feeling that wouldn't be the case. Sam bit down on his lip, stepping closer to Eliana and holding onto her shoulders, shaking his head and giving her a pleading look, "No one else can know about this, Eliana. You can't tell anyone about what you saw, okay?"

Eliana

Eliana couldn't take her eyes off of him, confusion clear in her eyes; for him, for her. "Sam.." But then his hands were on her shoulders and she could feel the warmth of him, enough to bring her back to her senses. At least for a moment. Long enough for her to grab a hold of his wrists, giving them a small squeeze. Her eyes closed, head tilting to the side. It really was what she thought and she'd been ignoring it. She'd wanted to ignore it. But the fact was that it was here. It was in his pocket. It was inches away from her and she hadn't felt the addiction pull her so strong as it did right now. "How long?" she asked, opening her eyes, wanting to see him to tell if he was saying the truth.

Sam

Sam felt terrible. It was horrible, that here was his friend who cared about him and all he wanted to do was run off and get high all over again. He'd so badly lost touch with how to control his emotions, that he did anything and everything he could to push them to the back of his mind and ignore them. He knew it wasn't healthy, but he didn't have a choice. His family needed him, and he couldn't help them if he was consumed with his sadness and anger. "I- Just a week, okay? I've got it under control, and I'll stop when everything blows over, I- I promise."

Eliana

Her heart was racing in her chest, pounding so roughly against her rib cage that she swore it would break right through. She wanted to be focused on the fact that Sam was getting high. He had cocaine in his pocket right now and he was going to inhale it, and it would give him the most delicious and intoxicating high. A week.. a week wasn't bad, right? It was only a week. She'd done it much longer than a week. And the stuff she'd taken wasn't just cocaine. It had other things mixed into it, some designer shit. It had been more than just the fine powder. 

"I--" Eli stopped and took a step back, letting her hands fall from his wrists, his grasp from her shoulders, and she turned to walk to the bathroom door. Hands on it, she could leave. She probably should leave. But her fingers shook and the ache was pulling deep inside of her, not letting her leave him alone. Reaching up, she turned the lock on the door so that no one could walk in. Someone's voice was in her head screaming for her to run but all she did was turn to face him, back against the locked door. "You.. shouldn't be alone. If something happens.." she swallowed the knot hard. "You need someone with you." Then she wrapped her arms around him in a close hug, holding on as tightly as she could.(edited)

Sam

Sam's mind was racing as he saw Eliana walk towards the door. What would he do? Did he just ruin a good friendship? He was glad that his Xanax hadn't fallen out too, because he thought it would've been even worse for him. But then she locked the door, and his heart was beating out of his chest. Before he could realize, Eliana was in his arms. Any normal person would've left, but she didn't Sam had to wonder where she'd really been, even as he remembered her dodging the question earlier. "I'm fine, it's okay. You don't have to stay Eli." He brought his hands to her back, rubbing it gently as he held her.

Eliana

Eliana was arguing with herself but she knew what would have happened if she'd been alone the night of her overdose. She wouldn't be alive right now, as evidenced by the fact that her heart had literally stopped beating when she was with Ale and the first responders. If he was going to do this, he wouldn't do it alone. Just in case. "You're not going to be alone," she said from over his shoulder, more stern that time because she didn't want him fighting it. 

"Something could happen. You never know, okay?" She pulled back and looked up at him. "Just trust me. If you're doing it, I'm here." Then her gaze lowered from his face and she took a breath, reaching slowly into his pocket until she felt the familiar weight of the baggie in her hand. Her thumb trailed along the side, feeling the movement of the soft powder from beneath her touch. It was friendly, like someone calling her back, that pleasant reminder that things stopped hurting and she stopped being so afraid when she was high. Eliana raised her gaze from the powder back to his face, "Am I the only person who knows?"

Sam

Sam shook his head. He'd never done anything in front of anyone. Even if it had been a week, doing all of this was so new to him. "I- I can't do it in front of you, Eli, I've only done it by myself." He watched as she felt the bag, one of his eyebrows raising as he noticed how comfortable she looked with a bag of cocaine in her hand. When she had told him to trust her, he was ever more confused. Had she done this before? His mind felt dazed looking at white powder in front of him, a part of him wanting to go against his judgement and do a line right there. He let out a sigh, digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out his bottle of pills, Xanax. If she was going to be here, she might as well know everything, "Uh, it's just these, and yeah, you're the only one." Sam looked down, whispering and pleading to Eliana again, "Please don't tell anyone."

Eliana

"Do you even know how much to take? Because you can't just make big fat lines and do it over and over without something happening to you. I-- I know those things, okay? And what happens if you take too much and you pass out? You could choke, or cease, or your heart could--" She shook her head, "It's too dangerous to be alone." As much as she wished she had the strength to walk away, she wasn't going to leave him by himself. The bag felt so comfortable in her hands, and with the reminder of his father leaving, and all the terrible things she'd been through, it was getting harder by the second to put it down. Her attention was thankfully drawn when he pulled out a bottle and she looked at them, recognizing them for what they were. 

"So you're mixing uppers and downers. Don't take them together. This hypes you up, and those calm you down. If you're taking both, they have to be taken separate or they're not getting a chance to work on you." Eli let out a breath, then already remembered they'd just been drinking. "It's more dangerous to mix this," she held up the baggie,  "with alcohol. Alcohol changes how your body breaks it down or something and it causes this chemical that's really bad, so if you're doing this, you can't drink, okay?" It was surprising how much she'd been picking up from her therapy and NA meeting. "I.. won't," Eliana said softly, "as long as you don't do it alone. I can't have you.. get hurt or.." die "..something."

Sam

Sam shook his head again, completely bewildered. "How the hell do you know all of this?" He knew there were dangers, of course, but he didn't know the logistics. He knew they were working, at least that. After his first night, he'd mainly saved the Xanax for during the day, coke for the night. So, he'd at least got that down, "Yeah, um, I usually do the pills during the day and the rest at night, so I- I know they work." He bit down on his lip. He knew the alcohol and coke weren't a good mix, but he'd kind of ignored that. Sam ran his hands through his hair, still not believing what was happening. Was he really getting a lecture in the bathroom of a bar on taking illegal drugs properly? "I- I can't do it in front of you, I just can't."

Eliana

Eliana averted her gaze back to the bag as she spoke. "This isn't the first time I've been in a bathroom holding this." She'd even started carrying it around in a vial so she could have a little bump every now and then throughout the day. Those little bumps hadn't been bad, she thought. They just gave her a little tiny kick to help her. That was much better than a full line, right? Of course it was. Eliana had felt like shit pretty much all the time from the desire to get high. Her body ached with all the problems she still needed to work through, and in the end, talking about what happened to her with her therapist only opened those wounds and poked at them. 

Being with Ale made her happy, having Charlie around made her happy.. she'd gone too far before but just a tiny little taste wouldn't be that bad. She wouldn't go down that path again. She wouldn't get that bad again. But one little taste.. No. No, she couldn't. Like a brick hitting her in the heart, one single thought came back to her. Ale was there when your heart stopped beating. He did chest compressions to keep you alive. He's the reason you're not dead. Pushing the bag back into his hand, Eli took an unsteady step back. "I.. can wait outside, if you want."

Sam

Sam's eyes widened, surprised by her statement, "Wait, really?" He wondered what the hell he was missing then. If she was doing the same thing, why was Eliana so worried about him? Sam's body was aching for another line, wanting the feeling of his high back already. He wasn't addicted, no, it was just a feeling he'd come to like over the past few days. He kept telling himself there wasn't anything wrong what he was doing, that he could quit after everything was calmer, whenever that time would come. He'd gotten twitchy at times, wanting the feeling back every time it wore off, wanting to feel happiness, even if it wasn't real. This entire situation was so fucked, but a part of Sam couldn't care. He didn't care about the consequences, he just wanted to be happy again. "No, um... can you just turn around?"

Eliana

"Yeah," Eliana said with a small nod. "Yeah, really. I um.." And a very loud part of her wanted to tell him what had happened, wanted to tell him about how she'd thrown herself into it. How she'd died. But the shame was so alive that she couldn't force the words out. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Eliana tried not to look at the bag but even if she knew she shouldn't, she wanted it. She wanted it so badly. But when he asked her to turn around instead, Eliana flashed him a small smile. "Sure. I'll be right here." It was better than him doing it alone, she decided, and so she turned to face her back to him and crossed her arms, knowing exactly what was happening behind her. Knowing the sound of the baggie, and tapping the line, and what came next.

Sam

He'd felt so ashamed, so embarrassed over this entire ordeal. But his need for a high overcame his shitty feelings, and Sam let out a breath as Eliana complied and turned around. He took the bag in his hand, opening it up and poured some of the white powder out. His hands were shaking as he took out his wallet, taking out a card he'd been using for the past few days to form two lines. Sam's hands sunk into the sides of the sink, glancing back at Eli, before bringing his face down. Plugging one of his nostrils, Sam bent down a snorted one of the lines, coming back up for a moment before leaning down and doing his second line. He let out a sigh of pleasure, the waves of the high rushing over his body, making his relax and turn around, leaning against the sink comfortably, his head tilted back.

Eliana

Eliana closed her eyes as her heart thudded, living everything that was happening behind her all the way down to the neat tapping sound followed by the inevitable sharp inhale. One simple breath that deposited all of that drug into his nose, burning and bringing him alive. And then a second. Out of habit alone, Eliana reached up and rubbed her nose as if she'd just taken the line herself. The swell of relief he must feel made her insides twist, hungry for it in every inch of her body. 

When it was over, Eliana looked over her shoulder to make sure and then walked over to him. Her eyes passed over him and it made her ache; for him, for his pain, for her and how much she wanted to know what he was feeling right in that moment, how the high felt surging through his veins as he went on an adventure she was left behind from. Picking up the paper towels she'd had against his neck earlier, Eliana held it out to him. "Wipe your nose," she told him as there were remnants of the cocaine on his skin. "You'll want a straw or a rolled up bill to keep it from being all over your face." Why was she even saying anything?

Sam

Sam had felt so much better after doing the lines. He'd rubbed away the residue as Eliana turned back around, taking the paper towels from her and wiping it over again. He'd kind of gotten the vibe that she wanted some, especially with how she'd been looking at the powder before. Sam didn't really know what had been going on with Eliana, but he nodded at her advice, "Thanks." Sam was silent for a second, his body feeling alive again. It was amazing how instant the effects were, as Sam was able to relax himself and not worry constantly about everything happening in his life. He motioned behind him, where the little baggie and his card sat, bringing his eyes to look at her, "Do you... want some?"

Eliana

Eli’s nose burned with the memory of how that powder felt. Her chest aches to feel it again, and her fingers flexed as if she could just grab it. It would be easy too. The door was locked, the bag was there, small remnants of the powder on the counter. No one would have to know. No one at all. Her jaw clenched at the offer and though he wasn’t, and wouldn’t, force her to do it, her brain did all the bullying. You’ll feel better, it said. Remember how good you felt when that high hit? Look at Sam. Look at that euphoria in his eyes. You want that, don’t you? You want to feel it again. Come feel it again. Eli clenched her jaw and forced herself to look away. She had to because being here, being so close, it made her want to fall into that bag and the comfort it brought. 

“I—“ She stole a peek at the bag again. He had enough and it would be a little less he’d have if she did. “I do,” she admitted. “I can barely think past how much I do.” Her voice was low, low enough that maybe he didn’t hear it. But once I start, I won’t be able to stop was what she didn’t say. “I just.. got off of it,” she said finally, not giving too many details. “I uh, I went somewhere and I got off of it and.. and I really do want some but I—I shouldn’t.”

Somehow, illogically, it felt like she was letting herself down by saying that. Eli tried to remind herself everything that happened that night: her blackout, her overdose, her hospital stay, Ale telling her what happened, Charlie yelling and crying, Ryan giving her details about how he found her bloody nosed and ceasing, her detox, cleaning out her trailer with Ale of all the cocaine she’d hidden.. it was too much. Eliana knew what had led her to hard drugs and she wondered what else was going on in Sam’s head. Though she was typically not an affectionate person, Eli reached for his hand. They’d know each other awhile and slept together in the past, so it wasn’t an awkward sensation. “I’m here, you know. Everything that’s going on, everything you’re going through, you can talk to me.”

Sam

Sam had trouble focusing on anything else around him besides the pleasure coursing through his veins. That was the thing about the drugs, it made him feel selfish. He felt like, especially with the coke, all he wanted to do was think about himself. It was bad, but he already wanted more. Being high brought back the ease and happiness of how Sam used to be, and he was still clinging to how he used to be. Some days, he wanted to see how far he could go back, how much could make him feel like he wasn't hopelessly broken. Sam nodded. He wasn't going to pressure her, especially in his selfish state of mind thinking that there would just leave more for him. 

"'S all good, Eli, no worries." Sam sniffled, shaking his head. He was on cloud 9, but the back of his mind still wandering back to his life outside the bathroom. He wished he could just forget it all sometimes, but that wasn't an option. Sam held Eli's hand, nodding at her words. "I guess my life's just kind of a mess at the moment. Deadbeat dad, depressed mom, fucked up siblings, and then there's Peyton. I just want to be happy again." Sam mumbled out the last sentence absentmindedly, averting his gaze from her.

Eliana

You never really knew how the cocaine was going to treat you. Sometimes it was just enough to take it and let it steal away your bad feelings, and other times it just opened a black hole that made you want to fill it with more, trying to make it stop hurting. Either way, the call was still there and she looked over his shoulder to see the baggie still there, still waiting, still calling. She swallowed hard and turned her attention to Sam's face, giving his hand a squeeze to remind herself what she was doing. Nodding once when he talked about his life being a mess, Eli frowned. "He's a shit for leaving you. So is your mom." Even if she was there, Eli knew how depression could steal you away even if your body was still there. "I know you feel like you have to take care of everyone but you have to take care of yourself too, Sam." Her eyes narrowed when he mentioned Peyton. "What about Peyton?"

Sam

The minute he started talking about his family, that euphoric feeling he once had was gone, the sadness creeping up on him again. He wanted more, he wanted to fill the void. But he'd already done some before being with Eli, and he wasn't sure if he could handle more. Still, every fiber in his body was telling him to turn around snort some more cocaine up his nose. Sam shook his head again, "I don't think she's gonna make it, Eli, I really don't." He couldn't help but laugh, throwing his head back, "I have no fucking clue how to take care of myself." Then Pyton's name came up, and Sam felt even more shitty. She was his anchor. She'd saved him in so many ways, but he knew she had the power to drown him too. They still hadn't spoke after she told him. "She slept with someone else, actually two people. I just, I keep falling for people that don't want me, that are way out of my league."

Eliana

There was craving in his eyes. Eliana recognized it because she'd seen it in her own so many times. At least back when she used to let herself look at her reflection in the mirror. "She should be focusing on you and your brother and sister," Eli said, frowning as she pulled herself up to sit on the counter, his hand still between hers. "I don't think people really know how to parent. Mine didn't." Her stomach twisted even mentioning hers. "I can't even imagine how difficult that has to be for you." 

She looked up then when he laughed but it only brought a frown to her lips. She squeezed his fingers, the best way she could comfort him. Then it felt like her heart kind of broke when he mentioned her sleeping with someone else. She and Peyton had been pretty out of touch through the overdose and she hadn't realized how close he'd grown to her, but seeing how hurt he was told her everything she needed to know. "Sam, no. Don't say that." Eli shook her head, moving one hand from his grasp to his shoulder. "No one is out of your league. Sometimes people just.. make mistakes. Maybe it was a mistake?"

Sam

As Eliana moved in between him and the counter, Sam fought the urge to tell her to move so he could do more. Sam gave her a sad smile, thinking about his mother. She'd always been so good, up until now, and his dad leaving just broke her. His mom wouldn't talk to anyone, let alone help around the house. She was immobile, as good as being dead at this point. "Yeah, I just feel bad for my siblings. I didn't grow up with this, but they're forced to. Stacey has these nightmares and Stevie keeps trying to run away and join the Ghoulies. There's only so much I can do." 

Sam never liked talking about himself, so for a while, he'd convinced himself he was fine. He'd pushed away any feelings he had about his father leaving to care for his family, which only worked for so long. Sam scoffed, his head dropping slightly, "No one sleeps with the same person twice as a mistake. No one sleeps with one guy, then has a threesome with him, and calls it a mistake."

Eliana

"But they are growing up with you. You're a good big brother and you always do what's best for them," she said, even though it wasn't fair that he was forced into the parent role. "It isn't right but they have you, at least, and they need someone or they would have to go through all of this alone." Eliana shook her head, the fact she was so close to the baggie not escaping her notice. When his head dropped and he spoke, her heart nearly shattered. God, Peyton... what did you get yourself into? Sam was such a good person, and he cared so much, and he was so broken. 

"I'm sorry. I-- She and I haven't spoken much lately. I wish I could tell you what was going on in her head, but what I do know is that you're a good person. No matter what you're feeling right now, you do deserve to be happy and you do deserve someone who makes you happy. These bad feelings you feel... you don't deserve them."

Sam

"I'm don't want their futures to be over, like mine is." Sam would do everything he could for them, even if he didn't pick the role himself. They deserved to leave this messed up town some day, and he'd do everything in his power to make that happen. God, he really needed another line. He felt so empty inside, so alone. Every one of his emotions felt so heightened, all of the hurt and anger coming to the threshold. Sam could quite look at Eliana, his head still looking to the ground, as he mumbled out a weak, "Yeah." Sam rubbed his nose, his hand moving to grip the counter beside them as he finally looked up. His entire body was craving more, he couldn't take it anymore. Sam didn't care about the risks or what would happen, he just wanted to feel better, or at least feel nothing. "I- I need to you to move, Eli."

Eliana

Eliana was shaking her head when he spoke, and it really wasn't until that moment that she actually looked at him. The same Sam that always had a smile on his face, that would do anything to make his friends laugh.. the Sam who was there for the people he cared about, and who loved the Serpents.. He was just as fucked up as any of them. "Your... future isn't over," she said, feeling a sickness inside of her. "Sam--" But almost as soon as she said his name, he mentioned her moving. Confusion coiled in her expression and she slid off of the counter, wondering if maybe he'd had too much or maybe he was going to get sick and needed the sink. "Are you okay?" she asked in a voice thick with concern.

Sam

Sam had always made sure that people didn't worry about him. Of course, he grew up with his own problems and insecurities like everyone else. But he was good at hiding it, mostly because he though it made him look weak. So most of the time, he overcompensated for how he felt inside. He didn't pretend all the time, no, but there were times when Sam smiled too big and laughed a little too long to mask how he felt. Sam shook his head, "It is." Sam's eyes were glazed over, his mind turning to the one thing that had made him feel better in the longest time. As Eli stepped aside, Sam stepped forward slowly and picked up the bag with his fingers. He stared at it for a moment, as he spoke, focused on the powder in front of him. Sam recited a phrase he'd been saying so often, his voice monotone as he prepared to pour out more powder onto the counter, "I'm fine."

Eliana

It was always easy for Eliana to care about other people but when it came to herself, she let her well-being fall to the wayside. And she could see it now painted all over Sam's face. He was broken and if she hadn't been so self-involved, maybe she would have noticed it. "It's not. You just need--" but her words were cut off as she watched him moving. His hands grabbed for the bag. She assumed he was putting it away. Maybe he'd had enough talking and he wanted to pocket the rest and leave the bathroom. They'd been in here for a little while after all. But he wasn't putting it away. Her eyes went up to his face, hoping she wouldn't see what she saw -- determination. Need. Craving. He wasn't going to put it away at all. He was going to have more. Eliana's brain whirled. He'd already had some before she showed up, and then more with her, plus the alcohol.. It would be too much. "Sam, no. Don't." She rushed up to him, putting her hand on the bag that was now in his hands as well. "You're.. not fine. You can't do more. It's too soon.."

Sam

Sam couldn't bring himself to stop, it was too hard. How much could one more little line hurt? He just needed to get through another night, that's all. Sam convinced himself he wasn't going overboard, that he'd be fine, even if the girl next to him was telling him the opposite. Sam just... didn't care. He didn't care if he'd had enough, he didn't care if there were consequences, he was being selfish all over again. His eyebrows furrowed as he felt another hand on the bag, making Sam shake his head, "No, just one more. I'll be fine." He tugged the bag towards his direction, trying to get her hand off, so he could pour some out.

Eliana

Eliana couldn't believe that she'd been at this point and had that same desperate look in her eyes, but she knew it without a shadow of a doubt. She'd gotten addicted - hard and fast, and there was no way around it. Sam was on that same ledge, about to fall off, and fuck, but she didn't want him to fall. Not like she did. It hurt too much, and that pain was only if you survived. "It's never just one more. Please.. trust me.." but he tugged at the bag and the fact he'd grabbed it so roughly, Eliana realized she had made a mistake letting him do this. She should have said something. She should have been a better friend, and she hadn't been, but she could be now. 

"Sam..." Eliana just wanted to take the bag away, stop him from doing more before his body could be ready for it but then something happened. The air between them exploded in a puff of powder. She didn't know if she'd pulled, or he had, but the bag was suddenly torn between them and it was everywhere. Eliana dropped her grip on the bag as her eyes closed, finely ground powder suddenly all over her face, her clothes, and her hands. She stumbled backwards in surprise until her back collided with the wall, gasping in shock as tiny explosions of the powder erupted on her lips and tongue.

Sam

Sam was past asking, past just wanting another hit. He needed it. His posture became more aggressive and needy, as the two had thier hands on the bag. In the blink of a second, his whole world came crashing, and suddenly the powder was covering the both of them, no longer contained in the little bag. "No, no, no..." Sam started shaking his head, and he kept mumbling the word as if this hadn't happened. The powder still covered his face and shirt when he leaned towards the sink, trying to wipe off the powder from his face and shirt onto the sink, attempting to form a line he could get into his body. Sam was frantic, bending his nose down to snort all the cocaine up he could, but it wasn't enough. The powder was everywhere, and the smallest line Sam formed didn't help. He brought his hands up to his face, leaning down on the counter of the sink, "Fuck!" The sound was mumbled and strained as Sam started to pace around the bathroom.

Eliana

No.. she thought, brushing her hands against her face over and over, trying to get the cocaine off of her skin, out of her hair, off her clothes but it was everywhere. It was one thing if she was near it but it was on her. She tasted it. Her back slid against the wall until she hit the corner and then sunk down into a crouch, eyes wide and staring at her fingers as they shook. Too much, she thought. Too close. Too real. She wanted to run and she wanted to sink into the wall. She wanted to disappear and even though it was a small amount, she could feel her body reacting to the sensation of the drug in her deprived system. The blur of movement drew her attention up but her fingers were still trembling as she watched him pacing. "It's too late, isn't it?" she asked. "It already has you, like it had me."

Sam

Sam wasn't an addict. He couldn't be an addict. It had only been a week, no one can get addicted that fast, right? He had it under control, that's what he kept telling himself, that he could quit whenever he wanted. Doing it was just a choice he made, he could back out whenever he wanted. He looked at Eliana, she was covered just like him, and shaking by the looks of it. Sam grabbed a paper towel, running some water over it and getting close to her. She looked so unstable, he was afraid she'd run out and everyone would know. Everyone would know what he'd become. So Sam bent down, cleaning the cocaine off of her face and hair, wiping it over her clothes, and then doing the same to himself. His body was shaking, and he shook his head repeatedly, "No, no, I'm fine, Eliana. I can, I can stop whenever I want."

Eliana

It was too late. Eliana could see it, and though she remained quiet when he came over and carefully cleaned the powder off her face and clothes, her eyes were focused on Sam and his movements, and the clear disappointment with his stash being wasted. The powder was all over his nose from when he tried to snort the spilled drug. He wasn't fine. There was a familiar burn inside of her as her veins were already sparking with the drug. As scared as she had been, Eliana could feel her body slowly relaxing and easing into that spot that she had been so used to. Shaking her head as he cleaned, she frowned, "You're not." Pushing herself against the wall, Eliana rose to her feet and gripped his shirt in her fists. "Look at this, Sam. Look at us. Look at you." There were tears in her eyes that wouldn't fall. "We just ripped apart the bag trying to get it. Is that 'okay' to you?"

Sam

Sam kept shaking his head. He just kept telling himself she was wrong, that he was really fine, that he could keep a handle on things. But the reality, that was still unclear to him, was that Sam wasn't strong enough for this, and he was letting himself panic at the first second of not getting what he wanted. Sam's eyes widened as she gripped his shirt, forced to look her in the eyes as she spoke. But he kept denying it, he kept trying to pretend this wasn't messed up, "I- I can't stop, not right now, not with everyone relying on me. It's temporary, I promise." Sam just couldn't find it in himself to see the truth, pulling himself away from Eliana and turning his back to her. He was angry and forceful with his next words, his brain going to dark places of thinking. Like the fact that Eliana didn't have the right to judge him when it'd been obvious she was doing the same. It was a bad thing to think, but it was in his mind regardless, "I'm not an addict, okay? I don't need anyone to save me. Like I said, I'm fine."

Eliana

Eliana's head was starting to whirl, a dizziness slowly easing the tension from her arms. When he pulled away, she didn't try to stop him. Her hands went down to the counter and she could feel the granules against her palms, quickly wiping them off on her hips even if it was too late. It wasn't temporary, she thought, and that made her whirl on him. She hadn't wanted to go there, and she hadn't wanted to say anything. A rush of heat flooded over her from the embarrassment that pooled inside her. "I said the same exact thing," she hissed. "I kept saying I was fucking fine until I passed the fuck out and my heart stopped. Don't turn away from me." She grabbed his arm to spin him. "You think Stacey and Stevie are bad off now? What happens when it's you? What happens when it's your heart? Sam. Please, you're not fine. And this stuff isn't going to make you fine."

Sam

Sam ran his hand through his hair again, angry and frustrated again. He knew the risks, but he also knew that he wouldn't be of much help to anyone if he repressed into his mother. He couldn't start dealing with his emotions now, the drugs helped stall that. He'd let himself process everything once the little ones were doing better. But Sam was high, and angry, and he didn't want to stop. He didn't want to listen to Eliana, even after she told him what had happened to her. "I'm not you, Eli. Do you think I want to fucking live like this? Do you think I have a fucking choice?" As Sam was turned to face Eliana, his voice grew louder, "Yeah? And what fucking good am I to them if I end up like my damn mother? Because that's what'll happen. I don't have time to go and find some way to 'fix' myself. To fucking fix how I feel whenever I'm sober. How it makes me depressed and immobile just like her. I'm all they have, I won't give up on them now."

Eliana

His response stung and she had to try and remind herself that it was just because he was high and agitated. Because the Sam she knew would have cared. But there was still a part of her that took root inside her brain, whispering words about how he was right. He wasn't her because she had been weak. Her overdose only happened because she deserved it. He didn't. He wasn't her. "You do have a choice," Eliana said but her voice was much lower and softer than it had been. "You can take the Xanax. Take something for depression. Fight to keep yourself put together because this," her hand swiped at his arm, scooping up some of the powder he'd missed when he was cleaning himself off. She held it up. 

"This is you giving up on them. On yourself. They don't need you high. You don't need you high. If this kills you," like it killed me "how are you any better than your father? I guess at least he left a note." But Eliana knew by the look on his face that he wasn't ready to give it up. Her chest tightened. Someone needed to know. Someone who could help him because she wasn't getting through. "You need help, Sam," she said as she walked around him and made her way to the bathroom door. Maybe Dare since he was in charge now.. he could help.

Sam

Sam could see Eliana drifting away. she was going to tell. He never should have gone into the bar with her. He never should have done the coke in front of her. All of his mistakes were about to backfire on him. Sam didn't know who she would tell, but the outcome would be the same. He didn't need to be saved, he was the last person everyone should be worried about. This town was a nightmare already without everyone finding out about this. 

Deep down, very deep down though, Sam knew she was right. He knew it wasn't good for anyone, he knew he was just being selfish, and greedy. But he didn't want to stop. Xanax could make him calm, and feel nothing, but it would never make him happy again. And all Sam could think about was how much he wanted to be happy again. He knew it was temporary, that his high was just fake happiness, but he was afraid if he had to let that go he'd never feel anything again. 

The comparison to his father hurt. Sam had done more for his family than his father had done in his own life. So often, Sam felt misunderstood, like no one really got how he was feeling, how he never even got to process his own dad leaving him. He never got to mourn, never got to cry, he was just forced into a role he knew he couldn't escape, so he found his own way to cope with it. Sam stepped in front of the door, blocking the exit for Eliana, "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

Eliana

Eliana had made a plan in the few steps she took. She'd talk to Dare and tell him what she knew, how she thought they may be able to help him. The Serpents were a family so they'd help take care of his brother and sister, and Eliana would help him go through what she was going through. She hadn't done a great job so far but he was part of her family, one of her friends, and someone who she hoped was still important to Peyton. Everything would be okay. Everything would be-- 

Then Sam was in front of her, blocking the door, and though she could have tried to force her way out, her hands were already shaky with the small amount of drug that wound up back in her system. "I know but.." She bit down on her bottom lip, swallowing a knot that made it hard for her to breathe. "..I can help. The Serpents can help." Her hands took his. "Don't do what I did. I pulled away from everyone who mattered to me and I went through it alone. You're not alone, Sam. You have us, and me. Let me help."

Sam

Sam knew she'd probably tell someone close to them. Maybe Dare or Peyton, but he wasn't ready for either of them to know. Darius was dealing with being the new leader of the Serpents and Peyton had her dad to worry about, Sam didn't want to cause anymore problems for them. He had love for his fellow Serpents, they were family to him, but he didn't think there was much they could do. 

No one would be able to calm Stacey down after her nightmares besides him, no one would be able to save his brother from joining the enemy besides him, and no one could make sure his mother was breathing every night, besides him. Sam looked down at Eliana, noticing that she was shaking, not sure if it was from everything that had happened or something else entirely. He shook his head, "They can't help, Eli. I know you think they can, but this is on me." Sam sighed, looking down as she took his hand, "I'm... I'm not pulling away. I'm still around, I just don't want anyone else to deal with my bullshit. This town is fucked, okay? People shouldn't be making time for me when they've got plenty of their own problems."

Eliana

It hurt to hear him talk the way he was because she'd been there too. She knew what it felt like to think that no one else should be dealing with her issues. That she wanted to save them from having to deal with her, too. And that was what it sounded like Sam was saying. Everyone would always have their own problems but that didn't mean they weren't there for each other. "You're important," she said. "We're a family and no matter what anyone else is going through, we're there for each other, and we're there for you." A small frown crossed her face. "I'm sorry I was too lost in my own shit to see what you were going through. But I want to be better, and that means being here for you. Whatever you need. Can you let me be here for you?"

Sam

People never worried about Sam, it was how he liked it. They always assumed that because Sam always put on a happy front, that there was nothing wrong with him, even if there sometimes was. There was a lot more wrong with Sam than he would ever admit, but he always diminished his problems to just being one of the faults of living on the Southside. But truthfully, he was a ticking time bomb. Sam knew, deep down, that if he ever really started to talk about what was wrong, everything that he was feeling, he wouldn't be able to contain it, which is why he didn't want to ask for help. Because he knew his friends, they were good people, who wouldn't just want to help his family without helping him too, and Sam wasn't ready to deal with it all just yet. "I know, I know. Don't ever be sorry for that, Eli. But people can't know, about any of it. I'm just not ready, to deal with it, and if people find out my dad fled, I could have a target painted on my back by the time Derek finds out."

Eliana

"Let's be real," Eliana said, making a face when Derek's name was mentioned. "We all already have targets painted on us the second that psychopath decided to take over the Ghoulies. He has a problem with the Serpents and if he wins, I have a feeling it'll be a war that if we don't win, we'll never survive." But for as broken and weak as Eliana felt more of the time, she was sure of one undeniable fact: They were the Serpents and as long as they stuck together, no one could take them down. "It's still early," she said, dropping the idea of telling Dare. At least right now. It sounded really important to Sam that people didn't know and the last thing she wanted to do was run him off, or even lose him altogether. "Why don't you come back to my place? It'll make me feel better knowing you aren't alone, and you can always go back home for dinner later." It would, at the very least, keep her from feeling like she had to tell anyone right now.

Sam

"All this shit started because of Dare's dad and mine. He's already got it out for all of the Anderson's, which makes my family next. God, sometimes I wish I could just take him down myself." The serpents were his family, and just like his blood family, he'd always do whatever it took to protect them. Sam had always been a serpent, but mostly because of his father, not really ever getting super involved. But with everything that was happening, everyone that was affected, Sam secretly wished he was at the forefront of it. Sam nodded. Hopefully his pleading had been enough for her to hold off on telling anyone, which was all he could really want at the moment, "Yeah, we can do that." Sam slowly moved away from the door he was blocking.

Eliana

Eliana all but let out an audible sigh of relief. She wasn't sure she could leave Sam right now. No one who saw him would want to leave him by himself. At least she knew that the cocaine was gone. Not that he couldn't get more but that was a small comfort. "I know the feeling," Eliana said, already feeling guilty that she hadn't been able to do more for Charlie and Dare when it came to Aidan who could have killed them both. She watched him move, seeing there was concern there and she knew that she needed to be someone who he could rely on. She hooked her arm around his waist as they walked out, holding herself against him. Any number of Serpents would have seen them go into the bathroom together. They'd been in there long enough that they'd probably have questions, and it was safer for Sam and his secret if people thought they'd ducked in there to hook up rather than anything else. She led him outside, keeping her face mostly down. Even though she'd barely had any of the drug, she still felt like it could be seen written all across her. "I walked," she said when they made it outside. "Do you want to walk, or..?"

Sam

Sam ran his hand through his hair again, tugging at the ends and giving her a nod. He hated feeling helpless, with the Serpents, with his family, with all of it, it made him feel guilty, knowing he couldn't save everyone. It wasn't that he had a God-complex, more so that he was just loyal to the people around him. Sam knew that them walking out of a bathroom together after being in there for god knows long was already suspicious, so like Eliana, he kept his head down as the two left the bar, back to where the night had first begun. He really hoped that this would all stay under wraps for the meantime, and he trusted her to not tell, at least for the time being. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way," Sam shot her a nod, his hand extending out as the two walked further away from the bar behind them.

[artificialqueens]

interlude 1.1 (Branjie) - PinkGrapefruit

A/N - before i say anything i’ve just got to say a massive thank you to Evan (formercongressman) for beta-ing this for me and Alexandria (alexandriabelle1) for pointing out i should probably get one. They’re absolute godsends.

This is a 5 time fic prompted by an anon and tbh i loved writing it so if anyone has anymore they want to send me, i’d love to hear them. As usual, Brooke is ‘him’ and Vanjie is ‘her’ just for clarity of reading and this is my interpretation and in no way supposed to be accurate or anything. Enjoy!

The 5 times Brooke kissed Vanjie to calm her down, and the one-time Vanjie kissed Brooke.

1.

[episode one]

  She’s ecstatic and god he can see why. Between the two of them, they collectively slayed the first challenge and she looks on the verge of tears. Her chest glitter is mixing with the sweat from awful studio lighting and her eyebrow might be slipping but she’s just so happy. None of it matters now.

  He pauses for a moment to watch her, and he knows that this might not continue but it’s such a beautiful sight and to never see it again would hurt. He vows to commit the contours of her face in this face at this moment to memory, so he can flick back through them like a scrapbook, discerning the good from the bad.

  She looks over to him, the twinkle in her eye a congratulation on his success, but more so, a challenge. Like she knows he’s been staring. In truth, he knows she’s been staring too. He’s sure that the producers will make them voice over these moments in sugary anecdotes and play their blossoming whatever like a fiddle for views, but he just can’t bring himself to care. Because she’s so happy.

  He takes her challenge, later in the werkroom when it’s quiet and colder and the glitter and the makeup have all washed away. They’re pseudo-alone on their couch in the corner - everyone else crowded at the other end of the room, obscured by tables or out in the smoking area absorbing the fresh air into their clogged pores. She looks at him the same way she did in Untucked, stares with her glistening eyes and starts to cry because ‘I never thought I’d get this far, I don’t know how I’m still here’. He leans in and savours the feeling of her stuttering breaths on his chin, the scent of powder and strong makeup remover that cloud her from his vision. He hyper-focuses on the crease above her lip that looks so good. He knows there are tears rolling freely down her cheeks as he places one hand to steady himself and takes another deep breath of her.

  When their lips touch it’s warm and soft and nothing like he’s ever felt before. In an instant he feels like he can see their future, he can watch like a spectator in his own life, and he lets himself melt into her as they become one to fit the contours of the couch and each other. Her breathing instantly calms, because nothing about this kiss is passion or fury or anger. It’s just sweet and reassuring and everything she needs; he’s everything she needs.

  2.

[january twenty nineteen]

  The trailer just went up and she’s terrified. He heart is pounding and her head is spinning and god she needs everyone to shut up but no one is talking. She’s locked herself in a bathroom stall somewhere in the World of Wonder building where everyone is getting set up to film their Meet the Queens live stream, and honestly she’s just praying no one finds her. She’d gotten about ⅔ through her makeup before the panic overtook her in its entirety, but it’s swallowing her whole and it’s terrifying.

  She’s uncertain still as to why this is affecting her the way that it is. It shouldn’t, of course, because she’s done it all before, but this time is just so different. The first time around she had nothing but a legacy to uphold and a quick wit. She came out of it a broken person but damn she learned. She took everything she got from 30 seconds on television and built herself a career out of it. This time, she’s come out of it with solace, dignity, and a fine looking Canadian. She has a life now, pets, and a man who takes her as she is and she loves him for it. Plain and simple, she loves him like she’s never loved another person, and the fear of losing that to the global tours and shows and flashing lights… it scares her.

  She hears the door open before she sees his shadow. It looms over the stall door and fragments like shattered glass when it hits the light. She can’t find the stability to talk, though, so her breathing carries on in its brutal staccato, harshly shallow and burning.

  He taps quietly on the door, knowing she needs space but just wanting to help her. God knows they’ve been doing this long enough now that he knows just what to do. He momentarily wonders why she didn’t just come to him, but he remembers his own excitement towards the day and knows that she didn’t want to ruin it for him. Briefly forgetting the current situation, it warms his heart to know that she thought of that.

  She doesn’t have to speak when she slowly opens the stall. He knows her well enough to be able to tell what’s going on, and she knows he wouldn’t push anyway. Instead, he just pulls her into his arms in a tight hug, tells her he loves her in actions, not words. His nose grazes her fade, breath tickling the stubble. She leans into him willingly, her own nose nuzzling at his chin. He smells like always, like cigarettes and coffee and Fenty lipsticks, and it soothes her soul like menthol and tea.  

  When their lips meet it’s not for show, for anyone but themselves. Even though they’re in the same environment that’s always exploited them, they take this moment for them. She knows that no matter what happens, they’ve still got this.

  3.

[august twenty eighteen]

It’s 3am on a warm and windy night in New York as he walks into the AirBnB they’re sharing for the week. He’s so glad that for once since they’ve returned from Drag Race they can share the same four walls for longer than a night, can let themselves be a couple again. His gig had run long and he’s angry that he’d missed her going to bed but he’s here now. As quietly as he can without waking her, he places the keys on the counter by the door, snakes into the kitchen and pours a glass of water. Sneaking back through to the lounge he rummages for a second in her rucksack to find the Advils she always keeps. He pops two out and places them next to the glass on the table. Contemplating writing himself a note (because he always questions the Advil in the mornings) he remembers that for once, he’s not alone. Tonight there doesn’t have to be a note.

  ‘Crap’ he mutters to himself as he crosses the wooden floor with a creak. He pauses. Listens.

  As he strains though, he can hear soft whimpers coming from their closed room. All attempts at silence are abandoned as he rushed to the door, pushing it open as quietly yet quick as simultaneously possible. He wants so desperately to be imagining things. He knows, quite quickly, that he isn’t.

  Brooke moves around the bed. It’s roomy when you consider the size of the apartment but they both knew the second they saw it that they wouldn’t need that much. Not when they sleep like koalas, clinging to each other til morning.

  When he realises she’s still asleep he can’t tell if he’s glad or not, but hearing her soft cries in the night breaks him. He just wishes this wasn’t her bren to carry alone. Wishes he could split the anxiety and the panicking and walk up the mountain together. Luckily he’d had the wherewithal to shower and de-drag at the venue and he’s dressed for comfort. All of this is good news to him as he drops the last of his bags at the end of the bed and slowly, carefully, sits on the edge. Swinging his legs on, he leans back so his chest is level with her head and draws her into him. She goes quiet as she burrows into his chest, so small in that moment and, as he presses a long, protective kiss to the top of her head - he promises to never let her go again.

  4.

[episode four]

  He follows her over in Untucked as she panics to herself. It’s the least he could do, he muses, as she frets over something he feels is trivial. But even less than a fortnight in, he knows not to argue or point it out. He’s all to aware that she’s experiencing this differently to everyone else, he’ll just have to accept that.

  The tension is seeping out of her and he can feel it, hot on his skin. Her body has a quiet shake to it as if she’s vibrating softly, but he knows that the sweetness of that imagery is nothing compared to what is happening. He’s seen it before in his friends. In Courtney before her first drag coven show. In Nina the first time they met. He’s seen it in himself before every performance since he was 7. But despite his exposure to it, he hates it on her. The twisted look on her face pains him as she tries to sort what she’s doing and all he can give her is encouragement, full of conviction and maybe the naivety of someone falling in love.

  ‘Out of the three of them I know you were, I feel like you were given the least harsh critiques’

  He’s hoping he said it with enough persuasion that she’ll believe him. She needs to believe him because he can’t keep watching her tear herself apart like this without knowing that he did everything in his power to stop it.

  ‘Fuck that shit’

  Her reply is short but definitive and frankly, he’d be laughing at her bluntness if he didn’t know that it was a defence mechanism. He brushed the blonde hairs from her chin, takes a moment to admire the wig on him and notes that it’s a fantastic look. The orange is, too. The whole thing is something he’ll bring up later.

  ‘Honestly they gave you like almost no negative critiques… and you were killing it with the dancing’

He feels it necessary to equivocate on his beliefs. He won’t allow her for a second to believe that he’s not 100% supportive and confident in her abilities. She just makes soft humming noises and he can hear ‘Living in America’ booming from the Apple headphones that she’d haphazardly shoved into her ears. It’s at this moment he realises that he’s not going to get anything else out of her and so he just pulls her into his arms, laying a gentle peck at the corner of his mouth, not letting his lipstick mar her cheek. She turns her head and he can see the pain in her eyes as she puckers her lips at him. He leans down and captures them, knowing that when he pulls away his lips will be tacky with gloss and glittering a pleasant gold. It looks good on her but it’s not the most subtle thing.

  As the producers call cut on the conversation they weren’t even directing, Brooke smiles to himself. He knows that they’ve just secured her safety, knowingly or not, and he’s just grateful that they will have more time.

  5.

[march twenty nineteen]

  He’s in the cab back from his gig with Nina when she calls him. It’s late there but not too late in comparison to the pitch black 4 am they can see out of the windows. Their seven-seater taxi feels too crowded, full of sweat and drag queens and he feels like this conversation will need privacy. He knows that even if it does he won’t get any.  

  She’s drunk in a t-shirt dress and a yellow waist length wig muttering about instagram stories or love and he knows she misses him. It’s evident purely from the fact she’s facetiming him on the break between her sets, in a storage closet. If that wasn’t enough, she’s spilling secrets left right and centre and if he was sober he’d be terrified, but honestly it’s so good to see her face and it feels good to laugh with her again. She holds off on the sobbing til he gets into his own room (although she isn’t shy on imitating him, screeching ‘I have two kitties’ at an ungodly pitch for Brooke’s own waning drunkenness).

  When he’s alone though, she begins to cry, it’s hard to make out on the grainy facetime that will never do her face justice for him. They use it too often to truly dislike it, but it’s not a substitute for holding each other on cold nights like these when they’re both too lonely to be alone. If he were to write a list of things he misses, he would list her at the very top, leave a few lines blank, and then write poutine. But even that was hard to miss in Canada, so really she is all he longs for and fuck it hurts. The incomparable yearning he feels burns into his very soul, and he wonders how cruel the world must be to have found him someone so perfect when they’re both required to be everywhere but together all the time.

  She brings him back to the present as she tries to blot her running foundation with a receipt she found in her pocket. He wants to reach through the screen and brush them off her soft skin himself. Even though they’ll both be together by the end of the day, it hurts that they’re so far apart now.

  They cry together, when he’s taken off his makeup and hung his outfits up nicely on the back of the door. They cry for the naivety they had when he thought they would be okay doing this. Before they’d spent weeks on opposite sides of the country. They knew it would get worse but god they hoped it would get better first because she can’t stand this anymore, and he isn’t far behind her.

  Later, when her show’s done and she’s home and it’s almost the afternoon in Canada where he is, he talks her to sleep and maybe in his fantasy he kisses the tears off her cheeks till she calms down. He places a meaningful kiss to her forehead and turns off facetime, knowing that when she wakes up he’ll be next to her.

  *

  1.

[march twenty nineteen]

  She rolls over to the sound of her alarm going off. It’s almost 3 in the afternoon, which means she has about an hour to get her ass out of bed and pick him up from the airport. She realises she may be cutting it close. In the shower, she uses up the remainders of his favourite shampoo, knows he loves how it smells when he presses his nose deep into the unruly mop of hair she keeps trying to maintain. She puts ice compresses under her eyes as she eats what can only be described as a pseudo-breakfast (because it is neither eaten at the time of breakfast nor does it contain any real breakfast foods, but it does the same job), and she almost forgets to take them off as she leaves the house. The hope is that they removed the last remnants of her crying herself to sleep but frankly, the hangover might have done that too.

  The drive is mostly uneventful, although she flips off an unusual amount of drivers in the baking Los Angeles heat. She’s bouncing in the driver’s seat by the time she arrives and she rushes into arrivals with less dignity than she afforded herself going home first because she’s so excited she might burst and her man is coming home.

  He’s hard to miss, a 6’3 Canadian ballerina in a crowded airport and his thousand bags help her to spot him almost immediately. She does a quick once over of what she’s wearing as she fiddles with the bandana around her neck, knowing it will make Brooke happy (and also so mad). It takes the very little restraint she posses not to scream when he runs over to her. Suddenly all his bags are on the ground and she’s up in the air, feet dangling, and they’re both crying again because the feeling of each other will never get old.

  She’s engulfed in the smell of that one time that he made seafood at 3am and they laid on the street til dawn. The time she pulled him into the Florida ocean when all he wanted to do was get Panda Express and watch TV. The smell of airports and long nights and coffee and menthol and shit red wine and good red wine and everything all at once. He smells like love and he smells like home and she kisses the tear tracks on his face because she fucking can.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Black Swan

Chapter 13

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5868

Chapter: 13/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon seeks the truth

Read on AO3

AN: Heyyyy this chapter is weird, be warned. Just remember is that we may know what's going on but no one else does. Hope you like this :D

———————————————

“I’ve started working on wind control,” Baz said. “I think I’m getting better. You were right, elemental magic is good general practice.” He flicked his wrist and created a mini tornado, tiny green leaves dancing through the sky.

“Cool,” Simon replied, voice distant and unfocused, just like his mind. Fuck, his mind was so far away it could be considered in a foreign traveller in a neighbouring kingdom. He was still reeling from what he saw last night.

The portrait was currently in the deepest, darkest corner of his closet after Simon spent hours studying it. And many hours and days later, it was still so clear. That boy looked exactly like Baz. Which would make Baz a prince. The prince. Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch, late Heir of Watford, who supposedly died in a fire. Just like the one Baz was taken from as a child. Like the one that killed his mother. Like the one that killed Queen Natasha.

On the surface, it made perfect sense. All the pieces fell together to paint a perfect picture. But it was so fucking insane. How could it be true? Baz, his wonderful and strange cursed boy, actually the dead prince. More noble than Simon ever was. His brain still couldn’t process it.

“Snow? Simon, are you there?”

Simon’s head snapped up. Baz was standing over him. When had he gotten so close? Had Simon been that lost to the world? “Huh?”

“You alright, love? You seem a bit out of it tonight.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just...thinking.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

Simon rolled his eyes and tapped his ankle in lieu of an actual kick. “Shut up, arsehole.”

Baz chuckled and put a hand on his hip. A few strands of black hair fell in his grinning face. He looked beautiful. He was perfect. He should know that.

“You’re really amazing,” he blurted out.

Baz’s face did a strange thing. His head pulled back and his lips slightly parted. Simon was never good at reading people, but that seemed like shock and awe. Was Baz awestruck by such a simple statement? He had to know that. He had to know Simon thought he was the most infuriatingly perfect man in the world.

His smirk returned, awe washed from his face. “Why thank you, Snow, I appreciate you stating the obvious.”

He was playing it off like a joke, but it wasn’t. Simon needed him to know how important he was. Long lost prince or cursed boy, he was so fucking incredible. Simon grabbed Baz’s wrist and yanked him down to the ground. Baz wobbled but found his balance on his knees, looking down at Simon with confusion. Simon took him by the back of the neck and kissed him firmly. Well, it was more just him shoving his mouth on Baz’s, no finesse or moving his lips the way he’d learned to over the past weeks. He didn’t want finesse. He wanted to somehow push his feelings into Baz, make him understand how much he cared just through their mouths touching. And when Baz pushed back, Simon wondered if Baz wanted Simon to know the same from him.

They separated with a small breath. Simon held his face tightly, thumbs dragging over his sharp cheekbones. The same cheekbones Natasha Grimm-Pitch apparently had. Simon was so conflicted. He of all people knew how terrible it was to be a prince. But...

“You really want to find your family,” he whispered, “right?”

Baz blinked at him. He sat back on his legs, wand placed carefully on the ground.He had that annoyingly attractive smirk again. “Well, it would be nice to know if I just manifested out of the aether or not.”

“Baz,” Simon half groaned, half sighed. “Please, just...actually answer.”

Baz squeezed his lips together. Simon tried to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead, but it was to no avail. Nothing short of a professional healer could probably soothe out that tension. But Simon tried anyway. He wanted Baz to feel better.

“I do,” Baz said, his voice a choked, small whisper. “I...I think I want to know if there’s someone out there that misses me.”

“I miss you,” Simon blurted out, almost defensive in a way. “I always miss you.”

Baz let out a breathy chuckle, hot air caressing Simon’s face. “I know, love. Thank you. I do appreciate it. It’s just, it’s not exactly the same. If I had a family, I must’ve disappeared on them. And I...I think, I want my absence to have been noticed. I want to know if someone...wants me to come home.” His voice broke slightly as he said it, and Simon’s heart crumbled at the sound. He was so vulnerable and open. Simon just wanted to hold him and protect him forever.

“And I need somewhere to go too, I suppose,” he laughed. “That’s just being practical.”

Simon wrapped both his arms around Baz, pushing Baz’s forehead into the crook of his neck. Baz hugged him back, bunching Simon’s shirt in his grip. He stroked Baz’s hair slowly. He wasn’t sure if he needed the intense comfort, but Simon would give it to him anyway.

Eventually, Baz pulled back, a half smile pulling at his mouth. He looked calmer. And that made Simon feel infinitely better.

“Let’s stop being all deep and sad, please,” Baz said with teasing lilt. “I want us to just be happy for once.”

Simon grinned and tucked a piece of hair behind his pointy ear. “Sure. I’m always happy around you though.”

Baz kissed a mole on his cheek. Simon noticed he liked to kiss that mole. It never failed to make his face flush. “I’m happy around you too.” He pulled back, wand pointed up. “And I want to show you this.”

He quickly jumped to his feet and held the wand to the sky. “A cold winter’s night.”

There was a small crack of thunder, then Simon felt something chilly and wet tickle his nose. His face scrunched up. He looked up, and felt more cold touch his skin. Simon’s eyes went wide. He held out his hand, and little flecks of white fell down, decorating his palm. He laughed breathlessly.

“It doesn’t snow here,” he said under his breath. “It never snows here.”

“Never say never, Snow,” Baz teased. “You must know by now nothing is impossible for us.”

Their eyes met between the falling powder. Yes, Simon thought, you’re right, nothing is impossible for you. Because you’re incredible and so strong. And you deserve to know that people miss you, even if it means having to possibly give you a burden like mine.

Simon stood up but immediately fell against Baz, head resting on his shoulder. One of Baz’s strong arms wrapped around his waist. They held each other in the soft snow. Baz was so solid and comforting. Simon stood in the cold shower and hoped that once Baz knew, this wouldn’t end in flames.

———————————————

Simon banged on the door as nicely as he could. He was impatient, but he wanted to stay on Penny’s good side. He especially needed to right now. And soon enough, the door swung open, with Penelope Bunce on the other side.

“This is becoming repetitive, Si,” she said, but she was still smiling.

“What, you don’t want to see me?” he asked

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, arsehole, you know I do.” She waved him inside and closed the door behind them. “But recently, every time you come to my door, you drop some sort of weird question or astounding revelation on me.”

Simon chewed on his lip. Well, he knew this was going to be weird. Now it was just going to be weirder. “Yeah, about that...”

Penny let out a loud sigh and threw herself on the couch. “What is it now, Si? Is Agatha turning into a dragon? Have Baz’s eyes gotten prettier?”

“Uh, no,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Actually...it’s a bit more serious than that. And a bit more real.” He plopped him on the couch next to Penny, rucksack in his lap. “I found something, and I need your help proving I’m not crazy.”

Her brows pulled together. “Okay...”

Simon took a deep calming breath, then opened his rucksack. “I was in the library late at night, researching stuff, trying to find Baz’s family, so he has somewhere to go after the curse is broken. But I didn’t find anything, so I decided to try going further back. And something...weird happened. I found this secret room with lots of expensive stuff in it. I also found this.”

Simon pulled the portrait out of his bag and shoved it at Penny. She jolted back, blinking rapidly. She took it cautiously and adjusted her glasses, examining every detail. “Okay,” she said slowly, “this is definitely noteworthy. I didn’t think that any of portraits of the Queen survived, let alone one of the Prince.”

“Yeah, I know, so did I. But also, the thing is...it took me a second to figure it out, but...” He reached over and tapped Tyrannus’ small, pudgy face. “That kid, looks exactly like Baz.”

Penny’s eyes went incredibly wide. “Wait, you mean...”

“I think Baz is Prince Tyrannus,” he blurted out.

Penny looked at him with a gaping mouth. “You think, that your cursed lover boy, is the dead son of Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch?”

Simon nodded slowly, fiddling with shaking hands quite a bit. “Y-Yeah, I think he is”

“But, Simon, the prince is dead! He died in the fire!”

“Yeah, yeah I know, Pen, but just hear me out.” He turned to Penny and looked her right in the eye. “Baz was kidnapped from a burning building when he was five. Someone took him and killed his mother, probably the same guy who cursed him. Maybe Prince Tyrannus was taken from the burning palace and everyone just thought he was dead. And that’s Baz.”

“But Prince Tyrannus isn’t missing,” Penny grumbled. “He died along with Queen Natasha in the fire. And how do you know all this about Baz and a fire? Does Baz really remember all these details from when he was five?”

Simon rubbed at the back of his neck, shrugging up to his ear. “Uh, Baz doesn’t remember that well. I actually...dreamed about all of it. Psychic visions and all that...”

Penny gave him a very particular look over her glasses. Simon recognised it from school when they were studying and he said something dumb or impulsive. “Simon, dreams aren’t reliab-”

“I know,” he groaned. “But I’ve been having them over and over for months. And they’re super consistent. And in it, a woman calls the boy I see ‘little puff’. That’s what Baz’s old caregiver called him. It’s too unusual to be a coincidence. And Penny, just look,” he pointed insistently at the picture again, “Baz looks exactly like the prince. Same hair, eyes, skin tone. They’re bloody identical!”

“I guess so...”

“You’ve seen Baz, Pen. Can’t you tell?”

“I’ve only seen him once, Si! From behind a mask and a headscarf! I mean, I’ll take your word for it, I trust your judgement.” He ran her thumb over the fancy frame, twisting her lip. “But, from what you’ve said about him, I don’t think this and your dreams will be enough to convince Baz he’s a bloody lost prince.”

“Yeah, I know. Which is why I was hoping I could look through your library. Your parents have stuff from before the castle burned down, right?”

Penelope sighed, then pushed herself to her feet. “Yes, most definitely. For once it’s probably good my parents are literary pack rats.”

She offered her hand, and Simon gladly took it, letting her pull him up. “Thank the Gods for book hoarding teachers.”

They both chuckled as they walked up the stairs together. The Bunce family library sat right next to Mitali and Martin’s bedroom. It wasn’t that big, and certainly wasn’t big enough to hold all their books. There were so many ceiling high shelves that you couldn’t see the walls. Simon had to tiptoe around precarious stacks of volumes and loose papers. Penny was already standing at a shelf, eyes scanning over the books.

“So what should we look for, Si?” Penny asked. Simon shrugged, and his friend glared. “We can’t sort through everything, Simon. We need somewhere to start.”

Simon scratched the top of his head. He asked himself, where would Baz start? “Um, how about stuff about the fire? I never learned any specifics about it.”

“None of us did, Si. King David took it out the history curriculum. He doesn’t want us to remember there was a royal family before you and him.”

Simon made a “humph” noise. King David and his bloody crown, always fucking everything up for him. “So there are no history books on the fire?”

Penelope shook her head. “Probably not.”

He twisted his mouth, rattling off possibilities in his head. So nothing made after the fire would have information it. But, what about something from when it first happened? Before David was in power. “Was there an announcement? Right after the fire happened?”

There was a pause. Simon wondered for a moment if he’d said something wrong. But then he heard a rustling, and when he turned around, Penny was on her knees, looking through a stack of scrolls. Simon stepped over book stacks to stand next to her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Well for one, thanking the Gods that my parents insist on keeping every town wide proclamation in case the royals try to contradict themselves,” she said. “Also, you’re a genius, Simon Snow, bloody genius.”

Simon blushed and shrugged. “Thanks, Pen.”

She kept sorting through the pile. Simon leaned down and helped her. Most of the scrolls had a green wax seal with a sword imprinted on it, the crest of House Owens. He tossed those away immediately. But once they made it through the top layer, the seal was a red flame, the symbol of House Pitch. Simon opened them and scanned the words as fast as he could. Most of them were boring. Tax increase this, district redraw that, blah blah blah. But then he found the words “tragic passing”. He hit Penny rapidly on the shoulder.

“Pen, Pen,” he said, “I think I found it.”

Penny scooted closer to him. Simon slowly unrolled the old paper. Luckily, the ink was still solid enough to read.

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE KINGDOM OF WATFORD: TRAGIC PASSING OF THE QUEEN AND CROWN PRINCE

August 2nd, 1102

It is with heavy hearts that the Royal Court of Watford must announce the tragic deaths of Her Majesty, Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch, and His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch. Both sadly perished in the disastrous fire that destroyed Watford Castle. The Queen and Prince are survived by His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Malcolm Grimm, and Lady Fiona of House Pitch. The castle shall be rebuilt in due time. The Court shall handle all royal duties until a new ruler is crowned. A vigil shall be held in Watford Town Square in two days time to honour the late Queen and Prince. May they both rest in peace.

“Pretty standard stuff,” Penny grumbled. “Poor Lord Grimm and Lady Pitch, though. They’re stuck up pricks, but they didn’t deserve to lose their whole family.”

Simon’s brow furrowed, contemplative frown pulling at his mouth. “1002,” he said slowly. “We would’ve been five then, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Baz is the same age as us. He would’ve been five when Watford Castle burned down, the same age he was brought to the lake.”

Penelope’s face scrunched up. Not on confusion though, more in thought. “You know his birthday?”

“Yeah. February 24th, 997.”

An toothy grin spread across her face. It was how she looked whenever she solved a problem. “Si, if there was a royal proclamation of the Prince’s death, there has to be one of his birth.”

Simon grinned as well. He grabbed her face and put a big wet kiss on her forehead. “You’re a genius too, Penelope Bunce.”

“Thank you, thank you. Now let’s look.”

They sorted through the scrolls again. It was harder now that they were in the Grimm-Pitch ones. Simon had to look over each one before tossing it away. It made everything take twice as long. What a weird thing to complain about.

“Got it!” Penny shouted. “I got it.”

Simon leaned over her shoulder as they read the words.

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE KINGDOM OF WATFORD: BIRTH OF CROWN PRINCE

February 25th, 997

It is with great pride that Her Majesty, Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch and His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Malcolm Grimm announce the birth of their son, His Royal Highness, Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch. He was born late last night at a healthy weight with no complications. Her Majesty is perfectly well after the birth. Prince Tyrannus shall be officially declared Heir to the Throne of Watford in one week’s time. Long may he thrive.

“Wait what’s this?” Simon asked, furiously tapping at the bottom of the page. Unlike the other announcement, there were two large symbols stamped on the bottom of the page. One was clearly the flames of House Pitch. But the other was familiar in a different way; it was of three wheat stalks on a field.

“Um.” Penny brought the parchment closer, squinting her eyes. “I think that’s the crest of House Grimm. They’re descended from farmers, it makes sense.”

Simon tapped it even more insistently. “That symbol, Baz, he-he has it, he has it!”

Penny looked at Simon like he was a few tarts short of a banquet. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I-It means, Baz he, he has this necklace, he’s had it his whole life. It’s got his birthday on one side, and on the other is this symbol. And you say it’s the crest of House Grimm. So that means...”

“He might have some connection to House Grimm,” Penny said, voice quiet, completely disbelieving.

“Like it being the house of his father!’ Simon bounced to his feet, nearly knocking over some book stacks with his waving arms. “This is it! It’s the same birthday, his necklace symbol. It’s proof that Baz is the prince!”

Simon felt like he was buzzing with delight. And he wanted Penelope to be jumping for joy like him. But she looked unconvinced. In fact, she looked almost sad. Simon immediately deflated.

“You don’t think so,” he said, voice bordering on a whine.

Penelope sighed and looked at Simon with sympathetic eyes. “I want to, Si, I really do. But, I just can’t get past one thing.”

“What?”

“The prince is dead.” She held up the first scroll towards him. “Look at the proclamation, Si. Tyrannus was uncategorically called deceased, after a horrible fire! Why would he be declared dead if he was just missing? Wouldn’t Lord Grimm, Lady Pitch, and everyone else in the bloody kingdom want to have hope that the son of Queen Natasha and heir to the throne was alive?”

Simon opened his mouth to argue, but unfortunately, Penny had a point. They wouldn’t declare a crown prince dead if there was a chance he was alive. “Maybe they made a mistake?” Simon said nervously.

“About the heir to throne?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s possible, right?”

Penny fiddled glasses, mouth shifting back and forth. “I guess. The person who examined the bodies might’ve mistaken someone else for the prince.”

“Who examined the people after the fire?”

“The court physician, I guess.” Penny’s eyes went wide. She lifted her eyes to meet Simon’s. “Who’s still Lord Wellbelove.”

Simon grinned once more. His heart was beating so fast he could hear the blood in his ears. Everything felt electrified. Even his skin somehow tingled. Hope was such a strange, wonderful sensation. “We have to go see Agatha.”

———————————————

“Remind me again why we need to get into my father’s office?” Agatha said as she fiddled with the keys. Simon and Penny stood behind her. They were all very lucky Lord Wellbelove was with Lady Wellbelove, both of them stuck in another meeting with King David. They had to hammer out final terms before the winter ball tomorrow. It sounded like hell. Simon hoped to save all of them from that hell very soon.

“It’s a very long story,” Simon said. “And I promise to explain it all to you later when everything calms down.”

She gave him a look over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Simon gave her his brightest, kindest smile. And thankfully, Agatha just sighed and shook her head. “Alright. I trust you, and I'll hold you to that full story later.”

Simon pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Aggie, you’re the best.”

Agatha made a “yuck” noise and wiped her face. “Yes yes, I know.” The key finally turned, a loud click resonating down the stone hallway. “And I’m the keymaster too.”

She pushed the door open. The hinges squealed like a rat’s who’s tail had been stepped on. Penny used her ring to light the torches along the wall. Lord Wellbelove kept a very organised office, thank the Gods. His oak desk was immaculate, with notepaper, a quill, and ink. Shelves were filled with identical versions of brown leather journals. The cabinets were labelled with initial ranges of what Simon had to assume referred to patient names.

“Your father is a neat freak, I see,” Penelope said, taking a torch to scan over the perfectly alphabetized files.

“Yeah,” Agatha sighed. “Something about ‘tidy room, tidy mind’, I think. Don’t ask me, my room looks like a tornado hit it.”

“C’mon, c’mon, we have to look!” Simon said. He threw open the filing cabinet drawer, flipping through the papers as fast as he could without messing it up.

Agatha stood over him with one hand on her hip. “And what the hell are we looking for, Si?”

“Uh, anything about the big palace fire. The one that killed Queen Natasha and Prince Tyrannus.”

“Oh, alright. You can check those files, but I doubt you’ll find anything about that in there.”

Simon spun around, looking up with her with utter confusion and desperation. “Why not?”

“Because,” she sighed, “he wouldn’t be able to keep a record that sensitive, the Court would take it. But even you wouldn’t be able to get into the Court records. They’re under heavy magical lock and key. Father is always complaining about it when he wants to learn from old cases.”

Simon’s whole body and soul deflated. “Oh. That sucks.”

“But,” Agatha walked towards the shelf of leather bound books, “I bet my father made notes in his journals. He’s obsessive about those things.”

“Yes, yes!” Simon suddenly felt alive again. He scrambled to his feet and followed her. “I remember, he was even writing in it during our graduation ceremony.”

Agatha sighed as she ran a finger over the journal’s spines, each branded with a date range. “Exactly. Mother and I were ready to kill him that day. What date are you looking for?”

“Uh, August 1002.” And like it was sent from the heavens, Simon saw that exact month and year stamped on the journal right in front of him. “Like this one says!”

He plucked it off the shelf and rushed over to the desk. Agatha stood behind him while Penny sat on the desk. Simon furiously flipped through the pages. It was a bit hard to read Lord Wellbelove’s chicken scratch writing (like Simon was one to talk). But soon he saw the word “fire”, and stopped dead.

August 10th, 1002, Final Conclusions from Palace Fire

After a thorough examination of the debris, I can conclude that Queen Natasha and Prince Tyrannus were the only deaths from the fire. Everyone else suffered mild to severe injuries, but are recovering well. Final conclusions:

H.S Queen Natasha O. Grimm-Pitch: Death by asphyxiation, most likely from smoke inhalation, body burnt but recognizable

H.R.H Prince Tyrannus B. Grimm-Pitch: Assumed deceased, body most likely too buried beneath too much debris

Despite the Prince’s body being unfound, Lord Grimm has said there is no hope his son is alive. He is too grief stricken and morose to continue. Agreed with King Presumptive David to cease debris search. Tyrannus will be declared officially deceased. My findings will be put in Court records. Hopefully the prince’s body will be found one day so I can examine it properly.

Simon’s jaw was firmly on the ground. And the ground felt like it had fallen out from underneath him so he hit the centre of the world. He read the words over and over, but it stayed the same. The proof before felt like poor, dirty scraps compared to this.

“Holy shit,” Penny whispered, “his body was never found.”

“Yeah,” Simon said, voice shaky.

“Why is that important?” Agatha asked as she leaned on Simon’s shoulder.

“It’s, uh, part of that long story, Ags.” Simon twisted his head to her. “Think your dad would notice if this journal went missing for a couple days?”

Agatha shook her head. “Definitely not. He’s too busy right now, he hasn’t been in this office in days. And I really do expect a long explanation later, Si.”

“Of course, of course.” He squeezed her hand with a big smile on his face. “Thank you, Agatha.” He looked back at the journal, and something caught his attention. He tapped Penny’s knee. “Pen, look, the Prince’s middle initial.”

He held up the journal to her, tapping his name. She took it and squinted, then chuckled under her breath. “Wow, that’s...quite the coincidence. It’s just an initial though. Agatha, do you know what the Prince’s full middle name is?”

“No, no clue. My father would know, I guess, but he’s still in the meeting with King David”

“Dammit,” Simon grumbled, picking at his nails. He wanted to see Baz tonight, before the Winter Ball. Before this damn engagement was announced before every member of the court.

Simon’s head bolted up. “Aren’t Lady Pitch and Lord Grimm here today? For the ball tomorrow night?”

“Um, they should be,” Agatha said. “No clue where they are though.”

Simon snapped the journal shut, the sharp sound reverberating in the quiet room. “I might know. And I have to talk to one of them.”

“Well, I have to get to work,” Penny said, jumping off the desk. She put a comforting hand on Simon’s arm. “Good luck with all this, Si.”

Simon squeezed her wrist. “Thanks, Pen.” He stood up and immediately pulled Agatha into a tight hug. She hugged him back, though with a bit of hesitation, which Simon understood. She had no idea what was going on, but she was willing to help him anyway. And he really loved her for it. He would tell her absolutely everything later. “Thank you, Aggie. You’ve really helped.”

“Welcome, Si,” she said. “Whatever this is, I hope you solve it.”

He chuckled as he pulled back. “Me too. I gotta run. I’ll see you later, alright?”

She nodded and delicately patted his shoulder. “You certainly will.”

Simon nodded back, then dashed out through the door. He had a vague idea where he wanted to go. And weirdly enough, his vague ideas were usually helpful. Hopefully this one was too.

———————————————

Simon was damn tired. He’d been wandering the guest wing for almost half an hour now and still no sign of Lord Grimm or Lady Pitch. Lord Grimm was probably holed up somewhere. He was notoriously anti-social at these sort of events, only coming out of obligation, and Lady Pitch wasn’t much better. Simon barely knew what Lady Pitch looked like, anyway. She made a point of coming to the castle as little as possible, and was probably only here after begging from Lord Grimm to be there for support during the Winter Ball. Simon guessed she looked like Queen Natasha and Baz. But even if that was true, this castle was so huge.

He turned a corner and slumped against the wall. This felt hopeless. It seemed only fair that after so many victories he’d get one defeat. It was just sad that he had come to a screeching halt this close to the end. This close to what he hoped was the final confirmation, the last clue that Baz was Prince Tyrannus, that he had a family. All he needed was to talk to one of the Grimm-Pitches. If only they weren’t so dark and mysterious and hard to find. Cook Pritchard was a Pitch cousin or something right? Maybe that would be easier. Maybe his feet would hurt less.

“This place is disgusting,” a woman’s voice grumbled. “Malcolm owes me big time.”

The voice’s owner turned the corner Simon was hiding in. She was a bit shorter than Simon, with reddish-gold skin and black hair, save for a single stark blonde streak. Simon caught a glimpse of her deep sea grey eye.

“Lady Pitch!” he shouted, rushing towards her.

Lady Pitch jumped and spun around, eyes wide and hands in a defensive position. Her mouth morphed into a scowl she fully took in who Simon was. She put a hand on the hip of her black trousers. (She was also known for openly flouting social conventions, especially when it came to clothes.)

“Well,” she growled, “if it isn’t Davy’s little exploding orphan princeling.”

Simon instinctively pulled in on himself. “Y-Yeah, it’s me. It’s an honour to meet you Lady Pitch, we’ve...never met me before, I think.”

“No. Because I didn’t want to.” Simon flinched slightly. She took a step forward, looming over him even with her lesser height. “Why are you bothering me, princeling? Don’t you have another family’s dignity to steal?”

“Um, I, uh, I, have a question actually, that I think you could answer, maybe.”

“Oh? I thought the Pitches had nothing to offer except taxes and a ready made kingdom for your father to snatch.”

Simon rubbed his burning neck. “Uh, he’s not technically my father...”

“Whatever,” she spat. “Your adopted father. Doesn’t change that you’re his heir and lackey.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess...”

She took another menacing step forward, both hands on her hips now. “So, what in the gods’ names would you want from me? Or do you get off on wasting my damn time?”

Simon gulped. And he thought Baz could be intimidating. He clutched the journal to his chest, the closest thing he had to a security blanket right now. “I wanted to ask you something about your nephew. Prince Tyrannus, I mean.”

“I only hav- had one nephew, princeling,” Fiona growled, arms crossing over her chest as she shoved her face forward. “Why the Hell do want to know about him? Your King has made it his mission to erase my sister and nephew from history. Looking for some way to resurrect their memory so you can desecrate it?”

Simon violently shook his head. “No! No, of course not, I-”

“Then what? Think my dead family is a fun little curiosity for you to play with?!”

“No! Just...” He took a deep breath. He was this close to blurting out the truth, but that would probably make Lady Pitch even more angry. She would accuse Simon of lying, and that was obviously incredibly counter productive. He took another breath and kept his eyes shut, focusing on his words. “I’m...I’m not like King David. I don’t want to forget the past. I-I want to learn about it. And from what I know about Queen Natasha, she’s someone I could learn from. I could learn from her ideas. And Prince Tyrannus was only five when he...died. He doesn’t deserve to be forgotten, I-I think.”

Simon looked at the ground as the silence stretched between them. It filled the space with an invisible weight the crushed Simon’s lungs and dried out his throat. Eventually, with a lot of built up courage, Simon lifted his head. Surprisingly, Lady Pitch didn’t look angry. Her eyes were narrowed, mouth a thin line. It was critical, but not in a malicious way. Just a curious way, trying to figure Simon out. Simon was familiar with that look. From Penny, from Baz, from lots of people trying to understand him. Few people did. He hoped Lady Pitch would be one of them.

“What do you want to know?” She asked, voice biting. But she still asked.

Simon let out a small sigh of relief. His grip on the journal loosened. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me before you ask, I may not have the answer. Now ask me your question before I change my mind.”

Simon nodded vigorously. “Right, right, sorry.” He rubbed at his neck, gulping before mustering up the words. “Uh, I was looking at old stuff about Prince Tyrannus, and I noticed that he was sometimes called ‘Tyrannus B. Grimm-Pitch’. So I was wondering what the B stood for...?”

The silence resumed. Lady Pitch didn’t look critical though. Instead, she looked very, very confused. “That’s what you want to know about? What my dead nephew’s middle name was? Really?”

Simon’s cheeks heated up. He went back to clutching the book. “Y-Yeah, I was just...curious. I can’t find his full name. He...he seemed like a nice kid. I was wondering what his full middle name was...” Lady Pitch was still looking at him like he was insane. Simon’s entire face was flushed. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just go now. Thank you for your time, Lady Pitch.”

Simon spun on his feels and started speed walking away. This was a dumb idea. He had enough proof anyway. This was just some sort of stupid desperate act for one more confirmation, he supposed. He didn’t need to know. He-

“Basilton.”

Simon stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. Lady Pitch was still standing there with arms over her chest. But she didn’t look angry, or sad, or anything really. Just neutral. Which was honestly better than the other options.

“What?” Simon said stupidly. He was still processing.

“Prince Tyrannus’ middle name,” she said with a hint of bite. “It was Basilton, or Basil for short. That’s what we in the castle usually called him. Does that answer your question?”

Simon stayed frozen for a moment, but once his brain came back to life, he nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, thank you, very much.”

She didn’t say you’re welcome. Simon didn’t expect her to. But she did nod once, and that was the closest Simon knew he’d get to those actual words. “Hope you end up being better than Davy, princeling.”

“Uh, I’ll try.”

“Good.” She turned on her heels and walked away. And that was that.

Simon let out a long breath, resisting the urge to collapse to the floor. He was both filled with relief and buzzing with excitement. That was it. That had to be it. There was absolutely no denying it; Prince Tyrannus was not dead. He was very much breathing, cursed but otherwise well. And he damn well wouldn’t be cursed for much longer.

———————————————

AN: Fiona would've probably fought Simon right there if she could lol. Hope you liked that! I know this is a weird chapter. I'm nervous about publishing it. It was originally linked with chapter 14 but then it would've been like 27 pages long so I had to split them. I might publish chapter 14 a bit early, depending on how much of my essay I get done. Either way, see you guys next time :)