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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years ago

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let’s save the world

season two, episode five

five hargreeves x reader

summary: gathering the family together never ends well, but at least you can relax with a few of the siblings.

trigger warnings: cursing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: it took me literal years to find a gif for this one. not even kidding. i ended up settling. i am also sorry about how long this took to come out, i was very busy with school and some other health stuffs😂 anywho i hope you enjoy it

you all watch as reginald’s car gets farther away, and you sigh softly. it’s the eyeball all over again. time to chase after it before it bursts into flames before your eyes.

“you know, i’m starting to get the impression that dad’s avoiding us.” you look to five, away from all the people that filed out of the consulate.

“what gave you that idea?” you chuckle quietly, shaking your head as you look down at the dress you wore, and hated. you couldn’t wait to get it off, but you frown as you notice the missing piece. “i lost my bow to choke that guy, and it didn’t even work.”

scratching the back of her neck, lila glances to the three of you. “i hate to be the boring one, guys, but we need to get the hell out of here.”

as she moves to leave, you getting ready to follow, five steps in front of you to look at the woman with narrowed eyes. “when you mean ‘we’, who exactly are you referring to?”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you look at the boy, and lila seems just as confused, shifting her gaze to the side for a moment. “not a lot of ambiguity in that sentence.”

five doesn’t back down- by now you’re used to that. “listen, i don’t know who you are or where you came from, but i’d advise you return posthaste.”

diego leans towards him, “five, she’s right, we have to get out of here.”

“i just saved your life, you kinder shit!” lila spits out, “if i hadn’t stepped in, all that would be left of you is a blazer and some bloody socks.”

looking to the side as you chew on your lip, you felt quite ready to leave right about now. the dress was starting to feel a little too tight, enhancing the pain you felt from the hits you had taken.

“that’s the problem.” five points out, “you’re too good, you ask too many questions. you know too much. and you fight like you know what you’re doing.”

looking back to the small group, you think about what he had said, and it was starting to make sense. “he’s got a point.” you mutter, looking at the girl with a raised eyebrow, almost asking for an explanation.

“so i know how to handle myself, and that makes me the bad guy?”

you wanted to believe she was a good person, the ‘crazy lady’ who you had met in the car who just seemed to be tagging along- but she was starting to seem more suspicious the more you hung around her.

“whoever you are, you’re in my way.” five tells her, “if i see you again, i will kill you.”

he starts to walk away, and for a moment, you’re planted in your spot, staring at his retreating form. quickly shaking your head, you leave the other two behind, catching up to him.

when you got back to elliott’s, you had crashed on the couch after changing back out of the dress, and as you did, you had seen that one of the punches you took left quite a gash in your side, and you assumed the only reason you hadn’t noticed it before then was because of the blood that had clotted and dried around it, or maybe the adrenaline from such a fight.

either way, it didn’t matter. you were use to getting injured by now, it was a part of working for the commission and now, apparently, it’s a part of saving the world. you simply cleaned it, put some bandaging over it, and called it a day.

now, you sat on the same rolling chair that you always claimed in the door frame to the kitchen, leaning your head against the wall as you watch luther- who had finally decided he was ready to help, apparently- made some scrambled eggs. the mug that you held, filled as much as possible with coffee, was still scalding hot, but that didn’t stop you from taking the smallest sips every so often.

diego paced the kitchen floor, “no, no, no. i don’t understand. they keep following me.”

luther doesn’t even look up from the pan, which was basically overflowing with the eggs. “who?” he questions, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“those dutch sociopaths!”

“they’re swedish, you idiot.” five corrects him, leaning against the wall across from you, “hired guns paid to eradicate us before we can do any more damage to this timeline.”

“yeah, but why now?” diego raises an eyebrow at the boy, “i mean, i’m-” he snaps his fingers, “-fine. for three months until you showed up.”

luther nods slightly, “yeah.” he finally looks away from the eggs, “i was here for a year and no one messed with me.”

looking back to you two, diego holds his arms out, looking for an explanation. rolling your eyes, you stand up, kicking the chair away from you and into the living room. “so you’re saying it’s our fault, hm?” you raise an eyebrow at them, “even if it was, and it’s not, it doesn’t change the fact that we only have six days left before the end of the world.”

nodding, five glances at you for a second. “the closest anyone’s gotten to dad was that driveway, at the consulate.”

as his stirring slows, luther looks up. “well, that’s not exactly true.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you watch as five steps closer to him. “what do you mean?”

“i saw him.”

you listen as he recounts the time he landed in the alley, when he got on a bus and went straight home- to the umbrella academy. when he arrived, there was some sort of house party going on, as people filled the building, all chatting and drinking champagne.

reginald stood with a circle of people- coincidentally talking about the end of the world and the uncertainties with time. when he walked away to get another glass was when luther stepped in, and was brushed off and humiliated in front of all the guests.

“that’s pathetic.” you all watch as the man scarfs down the eggs he had made, diego being the first to speak when he finished his story.

luther looks to him as he shovels more eggs onto his fork, “yeah, well, at least he didn’t shank my ass.”

“no, bro.” diego leans forward slightly, “he shanked your heart.”

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you at the comment, and five looks between the two of them as luther hums in acknowledgement.

elliott enters the kitchen, looking to the large man. “is that my bath robe?”

luther looks to him, his mouth full and his eyes wide as if someone caught him sticking his hand in the cookie jar. “no.”

“look, who cares what he shanked?” five finally speaks from beside you, moving to the more important business. “he knows something about time travel.”

raising his hand slightly, elliott looks to him, “uh, why don’t you just do your thing and, uh, time travel us out.”

with a sigh, five stands up to refill his mug, and you quickly hold out your own in a silent request. “anyone care to explain?” he questions as he takes the cup, walking over to the counter and grabbing the coffee pot.

“first time he tried, he got lost in the apocalypse.” luther states.

diego is next, “second time, he ended up without hair on his balls.”

chuckling quietly, you finish, “this time he scattered us all across the timeline here- in dallas, texas, also possibly triggering a doomsday.”

five turns as he finishes refilling the mugs, looking to the man. “any more questions, elliott?”

he quickly shakes his head, and diego starts to speak again. “guys, you’re all missing the big picture here. dad is the ringleader of a sinister cabal that’s planning to kill the president.”

you take your mug back with a quiet thank you as five hands it over, and luther looks to luther with confusion written all over his face. “a cabal?”

“ignore him.” five tells him, leaning against the counter, “look, the way i see it, we only have one option.”

without looking away from his eggs, luther raises the question everyone has. “oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“it’s time to get the umbrella academy back together.”

oh god

you’re not sure if you can handle them all at once again.

diego looks at the ground for a second. “hell yeah. family meeting.”

“okay, then can one of you guys get allison?” you look to luther as he stares down at his plate, suddenly incredibly invested in his eggs.

raising an eyebrow, you take a sip of your coffee. “are you two still... uh, canoodling?”

the man doesn’t answer, only tilting his head to the side a bit. diego slowly leans towards him, “do we need to talk?”

“no, she’s married.” luther speaks through his mouth full of eggs, and you scrunch your nose up slightly.

diego nods slightly, “dude, that’s rough.” he leans back into the back of his chair.

luther forces a chuckle, “i can handle it.” the expression on his face only a second later, as you honestly think he’s close to crying his eyes out.

“i’ll get her.” five sets his mug down, and you watch as he walks towards the archway into the living space. “do you think you can get vanya without, uh, squeezing her to death?”

luther looks at him with a deadpan expression from the comment. “i’ll try.”

“good.” he looks to you, “you should go with. just to, you know, supervise.” you nod with a light laugh, though luther doesn’t look nearly as amused as you are from the light jab at him. a second later, five is gone with a flash of blue.

you down the rest of your coffee as elliott stutters for a moment. “uh, what should i do?”

with a small smirk on his face, diego looks towards him. “prepare for company.”

“y’all know, jell-o used to be a delicacy.”

you sit in the living room of the apartment after you had managed to get vanya, along with her, luther, and diego, as elliott goes on about the disgusting concoction in front of him.

“in order to make it, you have to boil down a whole mess of hooves... you know, horses, cows, pigs, it doesn’t matter.” fire begins to dance across your fingertips as you stare at it in boredom, your lips pressed into a thin line. “but not everybody has a bunch of hooves lyin’ around. it wasn’t until, uh, a couple of sassy new yorkers figured out how to dry it out for the rest of us to use to... enjoy this ambrosia.”

diego looks to him after sticking all his knives in a little sheath, clearly as bored and annoyed as the rest of you. “if we have some, will you shut up?”

your nose scrunches up at the thought of having to eat that... sludge, and the fire immediately dies out. “maybe.” he quickly grabs one of the bowls around the table, beginning to distribute the thing he called food.

“i’m good.” you mumble, waving your hand as he looks to you, clearly disappointed from your refusal, but you could handle that. there was no way you were going to eat whatever that was.

luther’s face is scrunched up as he watches the man scoop up the ambrosia, deciding to look away and to vanya instead. “how are you feeling?”

the woman, who was slouched into the couch with her hands resting on her stomach, glances towards him. “pretty shitty, to be honest.”

flipping one of his knives in his hand, diego looks to her. “how would you say you are on a scale from one to... ending all life on this planet?”

sighing heavily, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, ignoring the searing pain in your side. “seriously? put the knife away, idiot, she’s fine.”

his gaze doesn’t move from her. “the last time i saw this one, she had me suspended midair, sucking the life out of me with energy tentacles.” he stops flipping the knife to point it towards you, “i think i’m allowed a little time to process.”

“i would love to see an energy tentacle.” elliott looks up from his creation, looking between the three of you.

shaking your head, you sigh. “no you don’t.”

vanya sits up, looking to the man. “i don’t remember what i did, but i’m sorry.” she shrugs slightly, “if that means anything.”

he looks to her for a moment before he finally stops pointing the knife around, instead holding it at his side on the armrest. “it does.” that surprised you, but at least you wouldn’t have to stand around for another family argument. “just going through a lot right now.”

beginning to speak about ‘a girl he likes’, you roll your eyes. before he’s able to speak too much, the bell on the door downstairs jingles and you can hear laughter- allison and klaus.

“anyone here?” she calls out, and you stand from your seat, as does everyone else, going to stand at the railing of the balcony.

you can tell that the two of them are at least a little drunk from the amount of giggling from the two of them. they stop to look up at the five of you, and klaus takes his glasses off. “i know this is impossible, but did we all get... sexier?”

rolling your eyes, you watch as everybody else goes down to have a heartwarming family reunion, allison and vanya hugging before klaus joins in.

“alright, let’s get down to business.” five turns and goes up the stairs, everyone else following. as they come up, you take your seat once again, all of them taking their own places around the room.

standing in front of all of you, five sticks his hands in his pockets. “first thing i want to say is i’m sorry. i know i really screwed the pooch on this whole going back in time and getting stuck thing.” diego nods slightly, and you prop your feet up on the coffee table, nudging the empty bowl out of the way. “but the real kick in the pants here is, we brought the end of the world back here with us.”

“oh my god, again?” everyone looks to klaus in silence. “all of you knew? why am i always the last to find out about the end of the- oh my god, my cult is going to be so pissed, five! i told them we had until twenty-nineteen!” he whines.

you sigh softly as you run a hand down your face, “well, better inform them it’s coming sooner than that. we have six days.”

“is it vanya?” he takes a sip from his drink, and allison scoffs, “what? it’s always vanya.”

deciding to ignore it, vanya looks to five and you turn back in your seat, shaking your head. “do you have any leads, five?” the woman questions, and diego is already handing him the file that holds the picture of their father in the knoll.

“yeah, we have one.” five tells them, passing the folder over to allison, who doesn’t waste time in opening it up.

“holy shit, is that dad?” she looks at it in disbelief, and vanya quickly leans toward her to examine the photo as well.

after a moment, five continues to explain. “we’ve been trying to talk to him about what exactly this means, so far we’ve got nothing.”

“not nothing,” diego quickly adds, “we know that he’s planning to kill kennedy.”

“possibly,” you make your entrance into the conversation, “but we don’t know who or what sets doomsday in motion.” you remove your legs from the table, leaning forward slightly, “could be kennedy, could be something that doesn’t have anything to do with him.”

five nods, “but, if we know something changes the timeline, we have to make it right.”

her eyebrows furrowing, allison cuts in. “yeah, but how are we supposed to do that if we don’t know what to fix?”

“oh, come on, do the math.” diego tells her in irritation, “we know dad’s having shady ass meetings with shady ass people. we know he’s on the grassy knoll in three days to kill the president. so i think we all know what we have to do.”

“kill dad.”

“find dad.”

the two have very different ideas, apparently, and five turns his head to look at him with furrowed eyebrows, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the incredulous look.

it’s quiet for a moment before vanya speaks. “none of us are supposed to be here, right? i mean, what if it’s us?” she looks around, “has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?”

another bout of silence surrounds you as looks are exchanged between everyone, before luther takes a deep breath to start a circle of accusations.

“diego has been stalking lee harvey oswald.”

pointing a finger at the big man, his voice raises immediately, “and you’re working for jack ruby!”

“allison has been very involved with local politics.” klaus pipes up from his seat beside you.

“okay, and you started a cult.” she points at him, giving a mocking smile.

while klaus hissed as if he were a cat, vanya sat up in her seat slightly. “i’m- i’m just a nanny on a farm, i don’t have anything to do with all of that.”

allison looks at her, “well, maybe you do, we just don’t know it yet.”

a loud whistle catches everyone’s attention, looking towards diego. “look at yourselves. everything in our new lives is connected to kennedy. that can’t be a coincidence. luther works for ruby, allison is protesting against the government, dad’s on the grassy knoll, klaus-” he pauses for a moment, looking at the man, “is doing something weird and pervy, but it’s probably connected in some way. clearly we were sent here for one special reason. save john fitzgerald kennedy.”

rolling your eyes as everyone starts to argue, you stand from your seat, feeling a headache coming on from being around this incredibly dysfunctional family, unable to not think about how peaceful it was when you were normal for once, just working in a diner.

“guys, you all die.” you look back at five as he speaks, cutting through all of the clashing voices. “i was there. i saw it. i wish i could forget it, but i can’t. i saw russian nukes vaporize the world with all of you in it, in a war that never happened until we brought it here. hazel gave his life to save us so you may need to shut up and just listen to me.”

you frown slightly at the confession, feeling bad that he had to see his family die yet again. you couldn’t imagine seeing your family buried in the rubble of your home, or actually watching the blazing fire that wipes them out from a nuke that takes out the city.

“i don’t know if the things we all experienced here are connected. i don’t know if there’s a reason for everything. but dad will.” he looks around at his family and to you, “we need to him before everyone and everything we know is dead.”

you’re about to voice your agreement, but luther is the one to speak first. “okay. i’m out.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you watch as he stands from where he sits, already heading towards the stairs. “were you even listening, luther?” you question in disbelief.

he looks to you. “yeah. yeah, i was. i heard a fifty-eight year old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything.” he gives a derisive grin, “and you can count me out. it’s time we all grew the hell up.”

everyone begins to call him back, and you can’t believe what you had just heard, quickly running around the chairs and being able to step in front of him before he starts making his way down the stairs, you walking backwards with each step he takes. “you’re kidding, right?”

five appears next to you with a blue flash, and luther finally stops as he stares up at him. “no one leaves until we figure this out.”

he looks between the both of you for a second, before suddenly he’s grabbing your arm and tossing you over the railing of the stairs as if you’re as light as a feather. you yelp from the surprise, and five is gone before you can grab onto him, landing on the tile floor with a groan as you curl in on yourself.

“asshole!” you call out to him as he leaves the building, diego following after him for who knows what reason.

standing from the ground, you hiss in pain as you feel the gash in your side sting like hell. you lift your shirt slightly and peel the bandage back a bit to see that the scab that was starting to form had teared apart, and you press your lips together as you let the bandage and your shirt fall back into place.

“let’s go!” you hear klaus call out, and you see the remaining three siblings start to make their way down the stairs. “oh, y/n!” he calls when he sees you standing at the bottom, smiling slightly, “would you like to get some tacos with us?”

looking to the side for a moment, you sigh, before looking back to him. five was gone and you didn’t know when he was coming back, so why not? “tacos sound amazing right now.”

music played from the radio resting in front of the mirror on the table matching the rest lined along the wall in the hair salon, and allison ranted about her husband, comb in hand as she messes with klaus’ hair.

with a groan of annoyance, she continues. “the nerve of that man.” she chuckles bitterly, shaking her head, “i mean, one thing goes wrong, and he’s on a warpath! i mean, doesn’t know who i am?” she looks into the mirror in front of him, pointing the comb, “no, no. no ray, you know exactly who i am. you just can’t handle it. i’m protecting him.”

you take a sip from the bottle of champagne on the table next to you, already feeling the alcohol taking effect as you smile slightly, watching the two of them as you hum along to the music. “protecting him from what?” klaus questions, his cigarette between his lips as he raises an eyebrow at her.

“the end of the world, for one.” she responds, the irritation clear in her voice.

vanya speaks from her seat across the room, her feet propped up on top of the table. “hey, is the world really going to end in six days?”

it’s quiet for a moment, and you take another drink from the bottle. “it did last time. i saw the aftermath.” you shrug, “sure, i didn’t see this one, but five wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

klaus gets up from the salon chair, and allison puts the comb she was using to the side. “hey, wouldn’t it be weird if five grew up all hot?” he asks, moving to stand in the middle of the room, grabbing one of the extra bottles to fill up his flask. allison expresses her disgust. “oh, ew! ew! please, miss ‘luther was my lover.’“

holding her hand up, the woman started defending herself. “we have never even kissed.”

“yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other, all through puberty and breakfasts and all that.” he argues, motioning wildly with his hands.

turning her seat around so she can look towards all of you, vanya voices her confusion. “aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or?”

klaus snorts at the question, and you look to allison as she sits in klaus’ previous chair. “well, technically, it-”

“technically?” you cut her off, sitting up in your seat with a chuckle as you look to her, “if you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

klaus giggles from where he stands, looking to vanya for a moment, “okay, can- can we focus?” allison dismisses the conversation, “i mean, clearly, we’re not saving the world tonight, but maybe, maybe, we can at least try to save my marriage!”

“no!” klaus cries out, and you grin, “no, because that’s- that’s like asking a nun how to hump someones leg. i mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships, huh? this one-” he points at vanya, “in secret love with some... farm frau,”

“her name’s sissy.” the woman whines.

“which is an improvement from her last lover, the serial killer.” he laughs, and vanya looks very confused from that comment, her eyebrows furrowing. “meanwhile i’m carrying a torch, for a soldier i haven’t technically met yet, luther is... in love with his sister. and you!” he spins around to point at you now, and you’re surprised by his sudden call out, “y/n, you don’t even realize that you’re ridiculously in love with five!”

you gape at the declaration, not even able to comprehend the accusation, but it doesn’t matter, because he keeps on. “face it, the only healthy long-term relationship in this family, was when five was banging that mannequin.” allison crosses her eyes, falling back into her seat, “the only thing the umbrella academy knows about love,” he holds his flask up into the air, “is how to screw it up.”

the two women mutter their agreements, and you take a long drink from the bottle, sighing as you let your head fall against the back of your chair, the champagne resting on your leg.

“how do you guys deal with this?” vanya questions, and you lift your head slightly to raise your eyebrows in question, and she continues. “all of it. the time travel, seeing the dead, the end of the world...”

“well i get really high,” klaus tells her, plopping into the chair behind him, “allison, allison... lies to herself.” the woman kicks a rolling stool towards him in irritation, causing him to flinch, “y/n works herself to death helping five, and you suppress all your emotions, deep, deep down, until you... you blow shit up.”

rolling your eyes, you decide to ignore his comments, looking to vanya. “yeah, i’d like to not do that anymore.” she looks to the floor.

“well,” you stand up, stumbling slightly, “you have six days.” you look at the nearly empty bottle of champagne, and you scrunch your nose up. did you really do that?

“what are we supposed to do with six days?” allison scoffs.

klaus mutters an ‘i don’t know’ and vanya seems like she has an ah-hah moment as she sits up in her chair. “i’m going to tell sissy i love her.” she announces, and klaus looks at her with raised eyebrows, his hands up in the air at his sides, “i don’t want any secrets.” she shrugs her shoulders.

“yeah-” allison grabs her bottle and stands up from her seat, “yeah, you’re right! ‘cause if everything’s going to go tits up, the least i can do is be honest with my husband!”

klaus rests his elbows on his knees, “oh... does that mean i’m going to have to face my cult?” he sighs, “i just hate group breakups- it’s why i stopped dating twins.”

vanya throws her hands out to the side, her eyebrows furrowed. “this family is amazing.”

the other two chuckle, and you shake your head with a grin on your face. yeah, their family is incredibly dysfunctional, but at least they were connected on some level. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” allison giggles, and klaus stands to hug her, both of them struggling to stand upright on their feet.

they motion for you and vanya to join, and when the woman hops over to engage in the group hug, you sigh and join in, having to lean against them all to keep yourself up.

taglists:

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @ purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #number five #five #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five x reader #lstw #let's save the world

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oh-obrien · 5 years ago

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Inscrutable {1}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 5,611 6,683

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: My first Stiles fic!! I’m super excited to share this series with y’all, especially being new to the Dylan O’Brien / Teen Wolf Fandom. Send me an ask or message me if you want to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Finley Mannulv carefully scooped a second heaping spoon full of protein powder into her shaker bottle, hoping that the drink would give her a well-earned boost of energy for her first class of the semester. Knocking the scooper on the side of the bottle, she watched as some of the white powder stuck to the sides of the clear-blue plastic of the bottle, the rest forming a thick layer on top of the water. Finley dropped the plastic scooper back into the container and a small cloud of powder puffed out of the top, accumulating on the black fabric of her t-shirt. She hugged the protein powder container to her chest and closed it tightly before she tucked it back into her locker, wiping off what had gotten on her shirt afterwards.

Moving her bottle off of the bench in front of her locker, Finley kneeled on the wooden bench and let out a deep sigh looking into her messy locker. “Dad would have a hemorrhage,” she mumbled to herself before pulling out her dirty clothes from conditioning that morning. She made sure her number, eleven, had been printed on each piece of clothing before she clipped them on to her laundry clip and dumped them into the bin that their coach had brought in earlier. She made sure her clothes for practice later that night, along with her pinnies, were in her locker before deciding it looked clean enough for the time being.

She had never been the neatest, a controlled chaos being the easiest for her to navigate more often than not. The same philosophy also held true for any living space or locker she had prior to starting college. As soon as she made a space spotless, she suddenly couldn’t find anything she needed, and it just fell back into some sort of disarray a couple of days later anyway. A little bit of mess made her spaces feel more comfortable, more lived in.

Finley pulled one of her many school provided hoodies off of a hook inside her locker and slipped the white fabric over her head. She looked down at the American University logo that had settled in the middle of her torso, the reality still not fully sinking in that she’d be spending the next four years of her life at the university. Her junior year of high school Finley had verbally committed to the University, contingent on the fact that she produced favorable grades through her senior year and also kept up her performance on the lacrosse field. Now, nearly two years later, she had just finished her first pre-class conditioning session and was in the process of getting ready to attend her first class of her college experience.

Finley just shook her head, not needing to be reminded about how quickly her life seemed to be blowing by, and tucked some of the extra fabric of her hoodie up under itself so she could prove she did, in fact, have on shorts. Her hair, which had mostly dried during team breakfast, got pulled out of the back of her hoodie and settled in messy, half damp auburn strands on her back.

“What do you have going on this morning?” Finley asked Cameron, one of the other freshmen on the team, who had been filling up her own shaker bottle at the water station when Finley approached.

Cameron screwed the top of her bottle on tight and looked down at the unmixed powder that had been pushed down when she had poured the water in. “Caramel,” Cameron replied as she started shaking the container, “it’s good. My go to in high school.” Finley nodded and started filling up her own bottle, the fresh water pushing the powder down into the small amount of water that Finley already had in the bottle.

Finley made note of the flavor as she watched the bottle’s water level rise. “I need to order a few more, vanilla and cookies and cream get old after a couple weeks, but they’re all I brought with me.” She flipped the switch on the water fountain, turning the water flow off. “My brother stole a few containers for himself before he left for school so I’m low on my stock.”

Cameron took a long sip of her drink before tilting the bottle towards Finley in some sort of ‘cheers’ motion, “I’ll drink to that one. See you tonight.” Finley offered a smile in acknowledgement as she screwed the top to her own bottle back on tightly.

She held the top tight with her index and middle fingers and shook the bottle vigorously, watching the spring ball bounce around inside as the drink mixed. After she made sure her drink had been properly mixed, she took a long sip, swiping her tongue over her teeth to remove the film that stuck to them from the protein powder. “I’ll see you tonight!” She waved to Savanna, her locker-room neighbor, and adjusted the straps of her designated ‘class’ backpack on her shoulders.

When she had helped to move her brother into college a few weeks prior, she had made fun of him for taking his ‘Notre Dame Football’ backpack with him everywhere. But, to his defense, he had been gifted quite a lot of gear by the university prior to even getting to college and he had also used a similar backpack throughout his senior year of high school. Now though, Finley looked at herself in one of the mirrors and snorted, realizing she was now in the same position. Team sneakers were on her feet, team shorts her choice attire of pants and an ‘AU Lacrosse’ hoodie topped off her outfit with the matching t-shirt underneath.

“Good luck with your first day of classes!” Savanna offered Finley an excited smile. Finley nodded in thanks while she picked up her lacrosse bag with her free hand, she needed to bring it back to her dorm to tighten the pocket of her stick, and bringing the bag to class with her was a better option than having to travel back to the locker room after her class just to pick it up.

“This entire year will go a lot faster than you think it will now, the countdown to graduation in four years really starts now.” Jayden, a junior, added. Finley nodded as she grabbed her lacrosse stick and gripped it in the same hand as her bag, off to officially start her first day of college.

She received the opportunity to move on to the American University campus two weeks early, along with the other athletes who attended the school. The two-week period seemed to allow her, and the other freshmen athletes, a cushion to comfortably adjust to college life and the campus itself. It felt like it gave her a leg up on the other freshmen, she already looked, and felt, comfortable on campus that was a huge part of adjusting to college life and she already had it in the bag.

In her two weeks already on campus, Finley had been able to find where all of her classes would be, as well as settle into a routine. Six o’clock morning workouts, seven fifteen shower, seven-thirty team breakfast. After breakfast she knew her classes started at eight-forty-five or eight-fifteen depending on the day.

Taking all early classes would allow her plenty of time to nap in the afternoon if she felt like she needed to before attending evening practices. On the days when she didn’t feel like sleeping a little extra, it would allow extra time for homework and studying. Her brother had settled into a similar routine at Notre Dame, although a little busier because football was in season at the university, but it was comforting to know her twin was in a similar mindset.

At eight-thirty Finley stepped out of the William I Jacobs Recreational Complex, the sun had finally risen within the timeframe she had been inside the facility. The early mornings would begin to get old near mid-terms, but for now the early start felt somewhat refreshing, she was already awake and nearly three hours into her day while most of the other students had probably just woken up.

Despite her classes being in the first time block of the day, Finley noticed that campus had already started to bustle with activity. Students who were excited, nervous, and overwhelmed for their first day of classes were all on the way to the multiple academic buildings. Some were chatting in small groups, others walked alone with headphones in, and she even noticed a few couples holding hands. Must be nice.

The late-August morning air had a slight chill to it and Finley felt the hair on her legs stand up when a breeze passed. The morning air seemed easier to breathe than the stuffy August afternoon air she had been practicing in for the past two weeks during two-a-days. Her first class for the day was Introduction to Law, a class she didn’t feel all that excited for.

Finley liked to think she had a solid knowledge of the basis of the legal system. Thanks to her parents, of course. Her father’s current job title read ‘Director of the Central Intelligence Agency’ on various news channels when he would give interviews, and her mom had once worked for the Department of Homeland Security, she felt well versed in the basics of the law. However, Finley had also accepted that fact that she couldn’t use her father’s government position and the stories he had told her to get out of introduction level classes for her major.

However, Finley had been able to use many of the dual enrollment and advanced placement classes to get out of many of her core curriculum classes. She only had two freshman level classes to take this semester and would then be fully immersed into the classes for both of her majors, and with her starting out on campus as a sophomore, she would be able to register for what she needed next semester rather than getting stuck with the leftover dregs for classes.

Carefully reaching back to put her protein shake in her left backpack pocket, Finley pulled her phone out of the waistband of her Nike shorts and saw a text from her twin brother. Cian was a freshman quarterback at Notre Dame and hoped to start a couple games in the upcoming season and be named the permeant starter his sophomore year.

“You cheating on the field yet?” Finley snorted reading the text message over to herself a couple more times before trying to think of a witty response, she felt too tired to think of one, her brain not being awake enough to muster a proper insult.

“It’s not cheating when it’s my natural athletic ability. Same goes to you man.” She responded before tucking her phone back into her waistband before scaling the steps to the academic building her first class took place in.

Entering the old building Finley inhaled the stuffy air before trying to remember which way she went to find her classroom last week. The strong smell of mold and sheetrock made her sneeze and she realized that she would need to take one of her ‘allergy pills’ every morning to be sure none of the buildings would bother her going forward. After deciding to take the hallway to her left she quickly found the room she had located once before and pushed the door open with her elbow. She stepped into the lecture style room and saw a few students already inside the tiered room, scrolling through their phones or laptops.

Surveying the room, she noticed plenty of prime seat options and opted to climb the stairs and slide into the first seat closest to the middle aisle in the third row. She grabbed her protein shake out of its pocket and settled it on the table in front of her along with her water bottle. Finley set her lacrosse bag on the floor, tucking it up against the end of the table that spanned her whole half of the row, making sure nobody would be able to trip over it. She stood her stick up next to her bag before sitting down and pulling one of her headphones out.

Scrolling through her team’s group chat she followed along with dinner plans and made a mental note to remember to go after practice later that night, their coach stressed team bonding, and team meals fell under that umbrella. Finley would look up every time the door opened, and her classmates started to trickle in. So far only one other girl had settled into Finley’s row, on the complete opposite end from her.

At eight-forty a middle-aged man entered the room and started logging into the computer, no materials with him other than his reusable water bottle and cell phone. Finley assumed he had to be the professor and nodded before looking back down at her phone. Something about him just felt off, but she couldn’t pinpoint what the ‘offness’ he gave off was.

A couple minutes later she heard someone move past the girl at the end of the row, mumbling a ‘sorry’ as they slipped behind her chair. The footsteps indicated they were most likely a male, and as they got closer Finley got a whiff of their body scent. It could only be described as ‘boy’. The cologne and deodorant he had on clashed and the smell of the two mixing with his normal scent made Finley sneeze. Fantastic.

She heard the stranger get closer and closer until his erratic heartbeat settled right next to her, he also smelled like some type of medication, something with amphetamine in it. “Hey,” his voice distracted her while she was in the middle of typing out a message to her brother, trying to concentrate on the message she had been through the fog that was this boy’s natural scent. She hoped he would leave after she didn’t acknowledge him, but after he didn’t leave after a few seconds Finley caved.

She looked up and noticed the boy had dark hair and soft brown eyes, his facial expression definitely gave away his anxiety about his first day. His thumbs were hooked into the straps on his backpack while he rocked on the balls of his feet. “This seat free?” He asked while pointing at the chair next to where Finley sat. She gave him a quick once over and noted how he nervously chewed on his bottom lip, his cheeks getting a little bit red as his heartbeat quickened, his nerves only growing.

He was nervous, and kind of cute, he could stay. Finley nodded and pulled her other headphone out, “yeah.” She didn’t understand why he had to sit right next to her when there were plenty of other seats free that weren’t near anyone. There were also a few seats two away from her but decided not to point it out.

He wore a loose red and black open flannel shirt that contrasted the fitted white tee he had on underneath; his spindly muscles visible through the material. His legs sported a pair of dark jeans and he had a black leather belt tight around his waist. To anyone else he would smell like old spice deodorant and fabric softener if they were sitting this close to him. However, Finley smelled the anxiety that seeped out of his pores.

“Some boy just sat next to me,” Finley sent her brother.

“He reeks of anxiety,” she added, wrinkling her nose and trying not to sneeze again after she had sent it. She went to slip her right headphone back in but instead felt the boy next to her stealing a nervous glance at her. Finley knew he considered saying something to her and instead opted to unplug her headphones and slip them into her school bag in a messy tangle of wires.

“I’m Stiles! I’m from California!” He offered Finley a nervous smile after his more than awkward introduction, his heart beating ever faster than after he sat down. Did he know introductions didn’t have to be so formal and forced?

Before Finley mustered a response to Stiles’ introduction, she watched his eyes trail to her lacrosse stick that peeked over the top of the table. “Oh woah! You play lacrosse here?” She looked down at her hoodie which had ‘American University Lacrosse’ printed on it, to make sure she pulled on the hoodie she thought she did before leaving the locker room. Maybe he thought it could be her boyfriend’s? But American didn’t have an NCAA men’s lacrosse team, they only had a club men’s lacrosse team.

Holy shit, Finley thought to herself, he also had too much energy. “I’m Finley. I’m from the D.C. area,” she replied slowly. “And yes, I do play lacrosse here,” she could have ended her introduction there, but her dad telling her to be ‘diplomatic’ with her classmates the night before flashed across her mind. “You’re familiar?” She added after the fact.

He nodded enthusiastically, “I played in high school! I’m also playing on the club team here, since we don’t have a varsity men’s team and all. I also probably wouldn’t have been asked to play on a varsity team if there was one.” He reached back to scratch the back of his neck nervously. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, just nervous about being across the country. Or maybe he had ADHD, just like one of her and Cian’s younger cousins.

With a nod at his response Finley turned back to her phone and saw another text from her brother. “The downfalls of being supernatural. Suck it up Fins.” She rolled her eyes at his response and tried to think of something to snap back at him when Stiles’ voice caught her attention again

“So, are you a Justice and Law major also?” Finley could feel his eyes on the side of her face. “Wait no!” He cut her answer off before she could even begin. “This class is for my Legal Studies Major!” He had decided to double major, that had to mean he was pretty smart, right?

Taking another sip of her protein shake to prevent herself from sighing, Finley turned her chair so she faced him this time. “Accounting and Legal Studies.” She saw Stiles ready to ask another question and felt thankful when she instead heard the professor’s voice carry a full ‘good morning’ through the room.

Her eyes turned to the man at the front of the room as she pulled her legs up on to the chair she sat in, with her legs ‘criss-cross-applesauce’ on the plush material. She felt herself start to swivel back and forth as the professor started his introduction but avoided the urge. “I’m Robert,” their professor seemed to run a very informal classroom. He wore dark jeans and a polo shirt, an unzipped American University hoodie over it.

All of high school Finley’s teachers had spent time telling their classes, ‘this will never fly in college!’ However, that statement quickly had seemed to becoming false as one of the classes for the next day had already been cancelled and the Professor had sent them an email that just stated, ‘read the syllabus, ask any questions in out class on Thursday.’ Mix that message with this professor’s relaxed attitude, casual dress and lack of materials and Finley really believed that her high school teachers had just been trying to scare the students into listening.

“If you’re not here for Introduction to Law, you’re in the wrong place,” he leaned against the table at the front of the room. Finley watched as a few students stood and left the room, they all had their eyes on pieces of paper which most liked contained their schedules. “Anyone else?” Robert gave others the ability to leave if they needed. After he received no response to his question, he pushed himself off the table and clapped his hands together. “Fantastic!”

“Seems nice so far,” Stiles mumbled from his place next to Finley who tried not to show her annoyance with him. She just simply nodded in response and continued watching their professor, still slowly turning back and forth in her chair.

Robert picked up a piece of blue chalk and started writing on the chalkboard. “Since we’re in a freshman class I’ll do the whole introduction thing!” He scraped a few more words on to the board. “So, give us your name, where you’re from, you major, and I guess a fun fact about you or some shit like that.”

Oh, so it would be this kind of class. He pointed at the student who occupied the very first seat in the front row and prompted them to introduce themselves. Finley listened as others introduced themselves mentally taking note of who seemed to give off anxiety and those who were confident going into the first day. Most of the room stank of anxiety, but Finley tried to ignore the smell. She took frequent, small sips of her protein shake to fill her nostrils with the scent of vanilla instead of anxiety. After the boy in the row next to her, David, introduced himself she watched Robert’s eyes flicker over to her.

Mentally groaning, Finley pulled the protein shake bottle away from her lips. “Hi, I’m Finley Mannulv. I’m-”

“Wait. Hold on,” Finley audibly groaned when her professor cut her off. Why did professors or teachers always have to do this? Especially in D.C. didn’t they get the kids of government officials, congressmen, ambassadors, anyone else with a title seemingly ‘important’ to the function of the country and the world, all the time.

“Yes, Mannulv as in Maxwell Mannulv Director of the CIA’s daughter,” she finished for him while rolling her eyes. “Now that we addressed the elephant in the room I’m moving on. I’m here for an education just like everyone else.” She saw Stiles’ jaw open slightly next to her and shook her head. Fantastic, already off to a great first day. “Anyway, I’m from around D.C., originally from New York though, but I’m sure you knew that already,” she glared at her professor. “But I’m an Accounting and Legal Studies major and I’m on the lacrosse team.”

Robert narrowed his eyes at Finley who just offered him a lopsided smirk in response. “And no, my dad didn’t get me in here. I had at 35 on the ACT and a 1550 on the SAT.” She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

Robert smiled through clenched teeth, “so nice to have a student with such close ties to the legal system in the class.” He turned to Stiles. “And you?”

Finley coughed when she smelled his anxiety grow even stronger, did this boy ever relax? “Umm hey,” he awkwardly waved around the room. “I’m Stiles Stilinski, I’m from Beacon Hills in California, and I’m a Justice and Law and Legal Studies double major. Umm-” he hesitated, “a fun fact? I’m on the men’s club lacrosse team here.” Stiles took in a deep breath of air after he finished speaking. Finley allowed herself to breath after that and noticed that the air of anxiety around him decreased greatly. She had more important things than Stiles’ anxiety to worry about right now though.

Finley made sure Robert no longer looked in their direction before pulling her phone out. “There’s a guy in my class from Beacon Hills!” She quickly typed out in the group chat she had with her dad and brother knowing they would be interested in the information.

“Is it anxiety boy?” Cian replied.

At the same time her dad sent, “Is he one of us?”

“Yes and no!” She quickly sent. She followed it by saying, “his first name is Styles? I don’t even know if that’s how it’s spelled and I didn’t catch his last name but it started with like Still.” Finley wasn’t sure if that was how he spelled it but that’s how it had been pronounced. Hopefully it would be enough for her dad to work with.

“Just pay attention in class. I’ll send a few messages out and see what I can find.” Maxwell replied while his son answered with “Who the hell names their kid Styles?” Finley locked her phone and slid it face down on to the table in front of her with the ringer turned off.

Still having heard most of the introductions of her fellow classmates, Finley tuned back into class while watching the boy who sat next to her closely.

He definitely seemed human, another supernatural tended to be incredibly easy for Finley to sense, her father had been training her how to do it from a young age. He also didn’t smell like he had recently been in contact with any other supernatural creatures, maybe that was because he had just moved into college? If he lived in Beacon Hills he had to know about all the supernaturals there, especially after Scott McCall managed to somehow chase most of the hunters out of town and create a ‘supernatural sanctuary’ of sorts.

Finley felt a migraine creeping into the back of her head and knew she had to stop stressing about this Styles boy before she wouldn’t be able to make it through the rest of the day. Instead she focused on Robert as he began speaking about what the class would entail.

“As you all know this is an introduction to law class.” No shit, Finley rolled her eyes and took another long sip from her protein shake. “Let me start with this question. Is anyone here somewhat comfortable with the legal process?”

Finley’s hand shot up with absolutely no hesitation and she gave Robert a fake smile, as if she asked him to challenge her. She watched as Stiles’ hand slowly raised from his place next to her and her suspicion of the boy only continued to increase.

Robert looked at Stiles with shock, his hand coming up to point at the pair. “Now I know about Ms. Mannulv’s legal background of sorts. But what about you Mr.,” he trailed off forgetting his last name.

“Stilinski,” he filled in the missing word. Finley would need to remember that as best she could. “And my dad’s the Sheriff of our town back home. I also had an FBI internship for part of the summer.” Finley almost choked on her shake and had to cough again to cover it up, her eyes widening.

“Are you okay Ms. Mannulv?” Finley held a hand up at Robert’s question and nodded for him to continue. She set the shake down in front of her and her fingers were itching to pick up her phone to text her dad and brother with the update, but she knew she needed to wait.

Robert walked back to the computer and pressed a button that had a projector screen coming down from inside the ceiling. “Well, since you two are so comfortable with the basis of law already,” Finley watched as the screen lit up. The words ‘Partner Based Case Study and Mock Trial’ were written across a PowerPoint slide. “You can be our first pair for this semester!”

Finley actually choked on her protein shake this time and spiraled into a coughing fit. She quickly reached out for her metal water bottle and unscrewed the top taking a long sip to clear her airway. “Sorry, practice this morning has me wiped out, especially with the air being cool.” She let the ice water coat her suddenly dry throat. That had been a total lie, her body easily adjusted to the change in air that morning, but it would need to be a good cover for now.

She felt Stiles’ eyes on her and carefully listened for his heartbeat. After detecting a quicker than normal resting heartbeat again she realized he felt just as anxious about this assignment as she did. Maybe they would be able to pull it off.

“So now that we all realize this is a case-based class, if the rest of you would like to partner up with someone else in the class we can go through the syllabus after.” Finley watched as other students started talking with one another, trying to make compatible pairs for their projects. She took the opportunity to open her laptop and pull up the syllabus, also grabbing her phone.

“His dad’s the sheriff.” She quickly sent in the group chat before flicking her ringer back on and turning it all the way down so she would feel the phone vibrate.

Finley quickly made herself come to peace with the fact that she would have to talk to this Stiles boy more often than she originally intended to and turned to face him. “So, this just took an interesting turn.” She offered him a small smile, taking note of the indifferent expression on his face, but she did note that his heartbeat had slowed slightly.

Stiles nodded then looked over to Finley again, his eyes were soft and carried some hints of nervousness, but a genuine smile spread across his face. “Definitely not what I expected to say the least. But I think we’re both pretty experienced so we should be a great team.”

“Definitely,” Finley suddenly decided the rings on her fingers were interesting and started spinning them. “I wasn’t a huge partner work person most of my life, but this should be an easy introduction.”

Stiles snorted out a small laugh and his smile grew, “seems like all I’ve done the past few years is group work.” He shook his head slightly, “this should be a nice transition into college though. A little calmer than life back home.”

Robert clapped his hands to get the attention of his class, waiting for the room to fall silent before speaking. “Hope everyone has a partner,” he walked over to the computer and pulled up an excel spreadsheet. “So, we have Mannulv and Stilinski to start us off.” He typed their last names in and looked up. “Who’s next?”

Finley tuned out after that and picked her phone up off her thigh.

“Stilinski?” Her dad had asked. After replying with a simple ‘yes’, Finley looked to see the spreadsheet almost completely filled out.

Robert filled in the remaining rows and turned the PowerPoint back on. Finley quickly read the ‘Types of Cases’ slide and immediately had her mind set on completing the murder case with the added mental state determination element and wanted to argue on the state’s side.

She turned to Stiles whose eyes still traveled across the slide and waited until he finished reading it and also looked over to her before speaking. “Four?” She asked him, making sure she had the case number right.

“I mean, since you knew what you wanted that quickly,” he shrugged, “sure.” After agreeing on the case, Finley tuned back into the instructions Robert read to the class off another slide.

“So! With that being said after discussing with your partner which case and side you would like to argue for,” he flicked back to the slide. “I would like one of you to raise your hand and let me know.” He leaned back on to the desk.

Finley made eye contact with Stiles again and raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead,” he laughed lightly, giving Finley the go ahead to lock their case in. She quickly raised her hand and watched as Robert raised his eyebrows at her.

“Ms. Mannulv, Mr. Stilinski. That was awfully quick.” He crossed his arms over his chest while speaking.

Finley shook her head with a small smile. “We’re experienced right?” She didn’t wait for the professor’s answer before continuing, “by those standards we should know what we want then. The homicide case, which I’m assuming is actually murder charges, with the mental state element, state’s side.”

Robert smiles after hearing her choice and nodded. “Now as most of you will find out, your case is based on real life cases!” Robert’s voice filled the room, cutting off other student’s conversations. “Which will be expressed in the email I send to those working on each individual case after class. Some cases are closed, others are cold. Cold cases are much harder to work with,” he turned to Finley with a smirk. “After I take down which case, you’re doing you’re free to leave!”

“Thank god,” Finley began putting everything back into her backpack and zipping it up. She watched as Stiles did the same, standing up afterwards and looking over to Finley expectantly.

He watched as she tucked her empty protein shake bottle into the side of her backpack, and she also did the same with her water bottle on the opposite side. She reached down to pick up her lacrosse bag and her stick. She seemed to have everything under control, but should he offer to help her anyway?

Stiles nervously scratched the back of his neck before speaking, “do you umm need, I mean want, do you want help?” He asked her. She stood up straight again, her phone in one hand and her lacrosse bag and stick in the other, a soft smile on her lips.

“I’m okay,” she shook her head. “I mean I’ve been doing it for years now, but I really do appreciate the offer.” Stiles noticed her blue eyes were softer now as they made their way down the middle stairs of the room and out the door. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she gave off in class.

He wasn’t sure if she had class after this or not, but he knew they finished their class about half an hour early and had been interested in making new friends at college. Lydia told him he should get to know people early on and establish a couple friendships he could see lasting past college. “You’ve played for a while now?” He asked her as they walked outside of the building and into the warming morning air.

“Me?” She laughed a little bit. “Started in second grade, haven’t stopped since. Always wanted to play with the boys though like my brother did.” She shrugged. She didn’t seem to give off the ‘girly’ attitude that Lydia and Allison had through out high school. Finley didn’t ‘dress to impress�� like they had and clearly went for comfort and functionality.

Stiles laughed lightly, “I mean, I didn’t get a ton of playing time in high school, but the pushing and shoving was fun sometimes, especially if I had a little pent up frustration.” The pair stopped once they were outside the building and Finley dropped her bag and stick. She sat down on the top stair of the staircase and looked up to Stiles motioning for him to sit.

He dropped his backpack next to both of hers before sitting next to her. “What brought you all the way out here though?” She asked. “I mean California is across the country and all.”

Stiles carefully thought over his answer, he didn’t want to give away too much about exactly why he had left Beacon Hills. He hoped he didn’t have to open that part of his life up to anyone new so quickly. “Umm, I’m looking to work in the FBI after college, so thought it would be a good place to go to school.” That part held true. “That and my girlfriend is at MIT, we’re close enough to visit when one of us has time.” Right being close to Lydia had also been part of the original plan.

Stiles had been so busy in the past week he had hardly been able to talk to Lydia, or any of his other friends from back home for that matter. Diving across the country had him absolutely exhausted, mixed with the stress of moving in and trying to get settled pretty quickly it had taken up the remainder of his energy. He felt guilty, but he also realized that the lack of communication would sometimes be the consequence of a long-distance relationship.

He watched as Finley reached back to pick up her water bottle and unscrewed the cap, taking a long sip. “Oh god that must be stressful,” she cleared her throat. “I’m only like half an hour from home at most, and I never had time for relationships. That and I think any boy I brought home would be scared of my dad.”

Stiles gave her a curious look and raised his eyebrow, urging her to continue on her thought. “You said he worked for the CIA or something right?”

“Yep, he does. Head honcho of the CIA.” She grabbed the edge of her hoodie and quickly pulled it over her head, resting it across her lap once it came off. “Sorry I started to get warm. But sorry if I acted like kind of a dick in class, I don’t like people questioning my intelligence because of my dad’s position in government.”

Stiles could understand where that frustration could be coming from. He had often used his father’s position as Sheriff to his advantage but had never really experienced the negative consequences that his position could have brought as everyone respected his dad. “I think we’ll be a pretty great team though.” He looked over to Finley who swung her water bottle back and forth between her legs, his eyes momentarily focusing on the object.

“I think we’ll be the best team that guy has ever seen!” She smiled. “I’ll make sure of it.”

A silence fell between the pair and Stiles closed his eyes and allowed his face to tilt up into the morning sun, it’s warmth quickly spreading out across his body. He opened his eyes when he heard one of Finley’s bags being opened. She shoved her hoodie into her lacrosse bag and put her water bottle back into the open side pocket on her other backpack.

She huffed and closed the bag again, standing up. “I need to get to my next class soon,” she offered. “If you want to get lunch and stat looking over our case if we have the materials in time that could work. Here-” She held her phone out to him. “I usually eat at the gym with my team, but I know a couple good places off campus that the meal plan covers if you’d want to do that?”

Right. She grew up around here of course she would know what to eat in the area. “I get finished at 12:20 but after that would work for me.” Stiles hoped their schedules would line up.

“Oh yeah same,” Finley watched as Stiles typed his number into her phone. “I have all early classes, easiest option for me.” She took her phone back before picking all her things up. “I’ll text you after my class gets out!”

“Sounds good!” Stiles threw his backpack over his shoulder before waving goodbye to Finley who went the opposite direction from him. She seemed nice enough, maybe this would be the beginning of his life settling into a new normal.

Finley returned the wave with the hand she gripped her phone in before making her way down the stairs and off to her next class, financial accounting. She flipped her phone over in her hand and unlocked it, looking through texts her dad and brother had sent her.

“Best friends with McCall for years now, human part of his pack basically.” Fantastic, Finley groaned audibly after reading the message her dad sent. She finds a nice boy and he’s best friends with Scott McCall and has a girlfriend.

Finley felt her phone vibrate and looked down to see a message from her brother this time. “Well at least McCall is intelligent unlike some of the others we’ve worked with.” That held true.

Finley sighed deeply as she pushed open the door to the business building, why would she be getting herself wrapped up with a guy from Beacon Hills?

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan obrien #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf ofc #werewolf character #human stiles #anna writes #inscrutable fic

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damienthepious · 5 years ago

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hello it has become my solemn duty to make all of y’all ship mangelo with me. @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile & @bluerayofsunshine it’s both of your fault that I ship this and therefore this entire fic is because of y’all. thank you

Feel Some Sort Of Way

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Angelo/Sir Marc, background Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Marc, Sir Angelo, Talfryn, Dampierre, Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Mutual Pining, (mutual dumbasses), very mild angst, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Crushes, (they're just....... so fucking ridiculous)

Summary: Traveling with Sir Angelo proves to be very confusing, for Sir Marc.

Notes: I've been working on this goddamn fic since July. They're soft, I'm soft, you're soft too probably. Let's be soft together dangit. Title from the song UWU by Chevy.

It can’t be intentional, Marc thinks. Must be near the hundredth time he’s thought it. It can’t be intentional, or the big guy would just say something, right?

“Here, friend Marc!” Angelo swings his arms up, draping the thick, heavy material of his cloak around Marc’s shoulders. He beams as Marc furrows his brow in confusion, squawking half a protest as Angelo’s hands lift the hood to pull it over his head, shielding Marc’s face from the driving rain.

“Wh- wha- why?”

“You looked cold up upon the delightful Dampierre, friend Marc,” Angelo says, his face open and sincere. “I find myself quite warm despite the rain, and so I imagined that you might benefit more from my cloak than I myself would.”

Marc reaches a hand up to grip the clasp of the cloak, intending to pull it off, but-

It is much warmer with the heavy, sturdy cloth around his shoulders like a hug, and… the cloth, strangely, smells like baking, sugary and friendly and sweet. How-

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Angelo,” Talfryn says, in that particular tone of voice that means he’s chastising Marc for being rude. Judging by the unwavering grin on the knight’s face, though, he isn’t bothered by that rudeness, so Marc doesn’t feel too awful about it either.

“Yeah,” he says instead, his thumb still brushing over the clasp of the cloak as Dampierre whickers softly beneath him. “Uh. Thanks, Angelo.”

It’s weird, traveling with Sir Angelo. It was different when it was the two pairs of men traveling sort-of together to find Rilla. Even after the Nymphs, when they reached enough of an understanding that they weren’t at each other’s throats anymore, it still felt like two different groups of people who just happened to have the same goal, who happened to be in a position to be watching each other’s backs. They weren’t really one collective group, at least not by the time that Dampierre lost a shoe and Marc had to fall behind.

This time, there’s less pressure on the whole thing. No one in deadly peril, no dire threat looming large over the Citadel. It’s as simple as the three of them taking the scenic route (as in, not by magical portal) to visit Sir Damien and Rilla and Scales.

Actually, in technicality, Sirs Angelo and Damien are supposed to be traveling to “assess the level of danger presented by the monstrous occupation of the area known as the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms,” but obviously, that’s… not exactly a real issue, even if it would be impossible to explain that to the Queen.

Marc wasn’t there when Rilla heard the assignment her fiance and friend were saddled with, but the way he understands it she wasted no time in grinning wide, grabbing Damien by the wrist, and sing-songing something about a month’s vacation, totally justified.

Apparently, since Angelo went all puppy-eyed at the prospect of not having his joined-at-the-hip best friend for the little trek, and he’s too damn dutiful to sit on his haunches for the few weeks it should take to pretend to walk to the swamp and back, Rilla had also suggested Marc and Tal as traveling companions before she and Damien slipped into her hut and then, uh, disappeared. And, despite some initial grumbling, Marc is actually kind of excited for the opportunity to get back to that swamp and maybe get another look at Scales’ cool self-defending castle, and for Tal to have the chance to do a little more exploring in the swamp proper.

What Marc is surprised by, though, is how much odder it is to spend time with Sir Angelo without the buffer of Sir Damien. Angelo seems… genuinely delighted to get to know Marc and Tal better, he’s a courteous and generous traveling companion, and he has this habit of just- catching Marc’s gaze and smiling.

Which shouldn’t be a big deal, Marc thinks. But it’s the way he smiles that concerns Marc. It’s this wide, slow-blooming sunflower grin, like remembering that Marc exists is enough to smack the knight full of joy. Which is totally bunk, because when most people remember that Marc is there, he usually gets more of a roll-the-eyes response.

Angelo smiles at Tal, too, which is nice, but Marc… Marc has this strange feeling that it’s different from the way Angelo smiles at him.

Anyway. It’s weird, and it makes Marc feel a little like his stomach is doing cartwheels, and it’s been distracting enough that Dampierre has needed to sputter at him to keep the both of them on the path more than once already.

He should be able to stop himself from staring when Angelo smiles. So far, though, the effort has proven to be a total pain in the ass.

It can’t be intentional. The knight is just nice to everyone.

The reason he keeps giving Marc more cookies than Tal (where does he keep getting cookies from?) is because he knows that Tal has less of a sweet tooth. He just- pays attention! That’s all!

Marc takes an aggressive sort of bite from a soft, sweet piece of shortbread, and he pretends that the delighted grin that Angelo shoots his way doesn’t make his face feel hot. Because, and Marc cannot stress this enough, it doesn’t mean anything.

Angelo gently strokes Dampierre’s neck, smiling in an awestruck sort of way as the horse snorts and then nudges his nose into Angelo’s other hand, snatching up the wild berries the knight has collected along the road today.

“Such a clever beast you have, friend Marc!” Angelo says with a wide smile, eyes sparkling, and Marc feels his heart do something swooping and strange.

“Y-yeah,” Marc says, and Angelo won’t notice that Marc is staring so long as he’s preoccupied with Dampierre, right? “Best horse in the whole damn world.”

“And lucky to have such a brave and caring partner in yourself, my friend!"

Nope. Angelo swings his eyes up towards Marc, warm and fond and to hell with this, actually. Marc presses his heels into Dampierre and the horse knows to skip forward a few steps, whickering softly and startling that look off of Angelo's face enough that Marc's fists can unclench.

"Got a mind of his own sometimes, though," Marc says casually, apologetically, and when he pats Dampierre’s neck Angelo smiles again, soft and understanding.

"As a good partner should!" he says. "I've been learning much, lately, about the benefits of consulting many perspectives rather than limiting oneself to the viewpoints one is familiar with-"

Angelo continues as he keeps pace with Dampierre's slow walk, and Marc listens. He listens, and Angelo’s smile gleams as bright as his armor, and Marc feels a little bit like he could do this forever, actually.

Which is ridiculous, because Angelo is like this with everyone, right? Marc swallows uncomfortably, tearing his eyes away from the knight. Angelo is just like this with everyone. He’s just trying to do exactly what he’s talking about- getting different perspectives. It’s not about Marc at all. He tears his eyes away from the knight again. He’s not treating Marc special. Of course he isn’t.

The cooking is a nice surprise.

Normally, Marc and Tal switch off cooking meals back and forth while they’re on the road, though usually it’s Tal that has to remind them to stop regularly to actually do any cooking instead of just gnawing on hardtack and jerky as they ride. Marc tends to get distracted, tends to focus more on whatever is right in front of him until his stomach is rumbling and he finally remembers that yeah, his body needs stuff like food and probably a quick nap or whatever. Tal’s a slightly better cook, though neither of them are really good at it. Marc can skin a rabbit caught along the way, can skewer some meat to roast over the fire, and Tal can usually find some edible greenery nearby to make the food suck slightly less, but it’s never enjoyable like a good hot meal in a tavern would be.

Traveling with Angelo, though, mealtime is a different story.

The guy seems to have a weirdly endless supply of treats, little candies and baked goods that he pulls from his pack and carefully unwraps and never hesitates to share, but beyond that he never seems to treat any meal as perfunctory. He can take whatever ingredients they have in their combined packs and make something that could actually be called dinner out of it. What would have just been slightly burnt skewers of rabbit and wild carrot in Marc and Tal’s hands turns into a surprisingly flavorful stew when Angelo gets ahold of it, when he gently asks if Talfryn would be so kind as to find him a few more edible roots, mushrooms, sprigs of herbs. Angelo carries little jars of seasoning blends in his pack with him, too, that he inevitably smiles when he opens. He has a habit of sniffing the top of the jar and then sneezing aside, because of the spice, obviously, but he always just grins wider as he adds a few pinches to the pot, filling the air around their campfire with a different sort of warmth than just woodsmoke.

He makes it feel- homey, honestly. Comfortable. Marc doesn’t know what to do with that feeling, but he’ll enjoy it while it lasts, at least.

Maybe when they’re done with this little trip, he’ll get up the nerve to ask the big guy if he can borrow one of those jars of spices. He can’t cook like Angelo can, obviously, but- it’d be a little something, anyway. To keep, when Angelo is gone again.

Briefly, madly, Marc thinks that maybe Angelo is more aware than he lets on. He thinks that maybe, maybe, Angelo is doing this on purpose. Being so nice and friendly and- all touchy-feely or whatever. To mess with him. To make Marc feel guilty about the way the four of them butted heads at first, or something.

But when Angelo offers to clean up after dinner (again) and Marc reacts with suspicion, Angelo seems so genuinely confused that Marc knows he isn't faking it. Angelo is… he's just that nice. Marc feels guilty enough about confusing the knight that he winds up doing half the cleanup with him anyway, resolutely ignoring every time their shoulders bump together.

Marc wakes when he feels hands upon him, but the touch is so gentle that the waking is too. He knows it isn’t Talfryn, because when Talfryn moves him to bed from whatever random spot he drops in, his brother always whines at him the whole time, and he does more pushing and shoving than this soft sort of…

It’s Angelo, obviously. It’s not like a monster would have crept into camp just to make sure Marc didn’t get a crick in his neck falling asleep somewhere stupid, and Marc has been hit by enough monsters to know that they usually don’t have big, strong, sword-calloused hands. And there’s no reason to make the big guy feel awkward about it, Marc reasons, so he keep his eyes closed and tries not to change his breathing as Angelo slowly shifts him to horizontal, and there’s a pillow waiting beneath his head before it hits the dirt, which is nice.

Angelo drapes blanket around his shoulders, and Marc usually thinks of the guy as clumsy but there’s nothing clumsy about the careful, gentle attention of his hands tucking the cloth around his shoulders.

Then, he feels those fingers feather-light on his face, brushing the hair that must’ve come loose from the tie at the back of his head away from his forehead, and-

There’s a strange sort of moment then. Angelo’s hand lingers, or Marc imagines that it does, and he feels something like a static charge, like anticipation.

But the moment breaks, and Angelo moves away. Marc is alone, then, still not warm enough beside the fire as he curls the blanket closer and tighter around his shoulders, and he tries to bury all the stupid wildfire confusion that burns through his idiot body whenever Angelo actually touches him. He tries to bury all of it, because Saints know that’s the only way he’s ever going to get back to sleep with the tingling echo of Angelo’s hand still lingering on his brow.

They rescue a young woman separated from her caravan of traders, lost in the jungle. They find her stuck in a monster-made snare that looks years old, half rotted through but still just solid enough to keep a hold on the lady. She’s grateful for the help, and even more grateful when Angelo lifts her up onto his own horse when they realize that the snare cut her ankle. Talfryn wraps the injury, but none of the three of them are physicians, exactly, and it’s probably better for her to be off of her feet until they find her companions again.

Sir Angelo is absurdly chivalrous throughout the whole thing. He leads the horse at an easy pace, asking the gal questions about her friends and attending to the answers with quiet attention, his expression diligent and serious, like a schoolboy trying to impress. All in all he acts a perfect knight and a perfect gentleman about it, while Marc and Tal follow behind until Marc kicks Dampierre forward enough to walk side-by-side with Angelo’s horse.

And yeah, Marc flirts a bit.

With the lady. Obviously.

Part of it is just habit. She’s pretty enough, with amber skin and soft grey eyes, but Marc doesn’t actually expect anything. He’s not even really trying, and when she scowls at him all he feels is a twinge of relief, because her irritation with him seems to be distracting her from how upset she was before, at least. Distracting her from the pain in her leg, too. He may not be a knight, yet, but he can still be at least a little bit useful, even if it’s only as a convenient annoyance. He says as much, and that finally startles a laugh out of her, and she rolls her eyes but she’s still smiling, which Marc counts as a win.

Angelo frowns, then, just slightly, and Marc’s hands tighten on his reigns though his own smirk doesn’t budge. Talfryn, behind them, frowns as well, but Marc pretends not to notice.

They have her safely back with her group in less than an hour, and Marc clenches his jaw far too hard when Sir Angelo oh-so-gently lowers the woman back down from the horse, the very goddamn picture of gallantry. Tal hisses at him, asks him what’s wrong with him, and Marc has to look aside, muttering something vague about Angelo glory-stealing the rescue. Which is stupid on multiple levels, but Marc doesn’t need to defend his position because the whole caravan of traders pull all three of them to join their group for the evening as thanks, offering dinner and the safety of other eyes and booze, and even music to entertain while they all sit together.

It’s comfortable, and warm, and a hell of a relief. And Marc barely enjoys a second of it, because he can’t stop the way his eyes keep drifting towards Angelo in the firelight. The woman they rescued sits beside the knight all evening, laughing and leaning too close, and Angelo smiles so damned kindly that it makes Marc want to just-

Nothing. It makes him want to nothing. Marc scowls at the fire and ignores Tal’s questioning look. Angelo is probably the nicest person that Marc has ever met. He deserves- he deserves for someone to laugh and lean too close around some safe and happy fire, while a pot of fragrant stew bubbles up towards done. Angelo deserves that, and he deserves to smile that kindly at someone smiling back.

And despite his reputation, Marc isn’t actually stupid enough to hope that he could be that someone.

Angelo likes to sing to himself as they ride.

His voice is a little scratchy, frequently off-key, often dips into the territory of too loud, and he has a habit of forgetting words and just sticking nonsense syllables or switching phrases around mid-line.

Marc can’t for the life of him understand why he finds it so comforting.

Angelo slices the wriggling, screeching vine monster in half with a clean, skillful slash, but the vines twine back together almost the same moment that his blade passes all the way through.

“Blast,” Angelo cries as the creature writhes around his blade, and dammit dammit dammit the thing is climbing up the hilt towards Angelo’s arm entirely too quickly, and Talfryn could maybe get the thing with his spear but chances are it would just reform again and they’d be risking stabbing Angelo’s arm at that point too-

“Throw the sword!” Marc shouts, and without a second of hesitation Angelo does, flicking his wrist and sending the blade in a spinning arc with the creature squealing along for the ride. Marc launches his newest modified net-bomb (now including a literal bomb) in the same direction, and the mass of the monster tangles wildly with the ropes of the net for only a half a second in midair before the entire mess ignites in a blaze of blue and white.

By the time the sword hits the ground, the monster and the net are both nothing but ash, dirtying the steel.

“We did it!” Talfryn cries.

“Of course we-”

Marc is interrupted as Angelo wraps his arms around him and lifts him into the air, beaming bright.

“A spectacular maneuver, friend Marc! Such quick thinking and strategy!”

Angelo squeezes him in a tight hug and Marc’s heart squeezes too, his body entirely too warm.

“Ah,” Marc manages in a strangled sort of voice, and Angelo doesn’t seem even remotely burdened by Marc’s weight.

“And such a skillful deployment of your invention, as well!” Angelo booms, and his beaming face is almost too close to focus on, and he still smells like cookies somehow, and either Marc is going completely insane or Angelo’s cheeks are flushed. Which is- almost certainly just from the strain of the fight, right?

Marc-

Marc panics.

“Put- hey! Put me down, will you?” he says, squirming against Angelo’s sturdy and gentle grip. “I didn’t say you could grab me up like a- like some sack of fruit or something, did I?”

Angelo’s grin disappears, and he blinks in confusion for a moment before he lowers Marc back to the ground, ducking his head.

“I… I apologize, friend Marc,” he says, chagrined. “I simply wanted to ho-” he pauses, purses his lips for a moment, and then continues, “I was caught up in the moment, I’m afraid. I did not mean to overstep.”

“Just-” Marc notices Talfryn shoot both of them a funny look as he retrieves Angelo’s sword from the dirt, carefully wrapping the hot metal in a cloth before he grabs the hilt. Marc looks away from his brother, and he keeps his gaze away from Angelo, too. “Just- don’t pick me up unless I ask you to, alright?”

“Of course,” Angelo says, his tone completely and totally abashed. “I am terribly sorry.”

“Stop-” Marc winces, then motions for Dampierre to come close enough that he can pull himself up into the saddle. “Stop apologizing already. It’s not- it’s not a big thing or anything, just-” he scrambles for words, pretending to readjust the straps of Dampierre’s saddle around his legs for longer than he really needs to. “Just don’t do it again unless I ask.”

Angelo purses his lips, probably to keep from apologizing again, and nods before he turns to Talfryn to take back his blade.

As soon as no one is looking at Marc again he sags in the saddle, biting his lip and feeling like the biggest idiot in the damn world.

Stupid battle high. Stupid touchy-feely knight. Stupid blinding smile.

Stupid beating heart, pounding hard against his stupid ribs as his stupid brain tries to puzzle out why those stupid strong arms aren’t still wrapped around him, warm and safe.

Angelo laughs at all of Marc’s more straightforward jokes. If they’re too complicated or layered the knight might get lost on the way to the punchline, but on the whole he actually seems to think that Marc is funny. And- every time he can make Angelo laugh, every time he can get him to give that big, energetic guffaw, it makes Marc’s stupid heart skip and thump like a rabbit in a trap.

He’s been telling a lot more jokes, lately. It makes Tal give him a look somewhere along the path from confused to frustrated almost every time, but it’s worth it.

At least he knows that Angelo doesn’t laugh like that for everyone.

Sir Angelo is asleep first tonight. The farther they get from the Citadel, the more dangerous the jungle is going to get, and since Angelo is gonna be taking second watch, he’s getting in his sleep early. So, it’s just Marc and Tal left sitting by the fire as the stars brighten one by one, and there isn’t anything besides Marc’s own self-control to keep him from saying something stupid.

So.

“Hey Tal,” Marc says, and he tries very hard to sound casual as he fiddles with the trigger on one of his net-bombs. “Do you think- do you think the big guy-” he bites his lip, tries a different question instead. “What d’you think of the big guy?”

“Sir Angelo?” Talfryn asks, and Marc nods. “I mean, he’s been okay to travel with, I guess. I think he’s been trying really hard, y’know? To be more considerate, to listen better and all that. And I think he appreciates that you’ve been acting nicer to him too.”

Marc flinches, dropping the mechanism in his hand. “Wh-what?”

Tal blinks. “You’ve been trying to be nicer to him, too, right?”

“Uh.” Marc flushes dark as his fingers scramble through the leafy jungle floor, trying to scrape up his device. Tal noticed? He’s been noticeably nicer to the knight? That’s- that doesn’t seem- “Ah, I guess so,” he stammers. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been- have I been? I don’t think I’ve been acting weird.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t say that you’ve been acting weird, Marc,” Tal says, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I said you’ve been acting nice.”

“Nice.” His fingers finally brush across metal, and he snatches the mechanism back up. “To Angelo?”

“Who else?” Tal says, and then he laughs. “Seriously, Marc, I know we got off on a weird sort of foot and all, but I’m glad we’re at least getting along with him. This would’ve been a pretty rotten journey if you two were fighting the whole way.”

“Yeah,” Marc says. “Uh, yeah.” He jams the net bomb back into the bag with the rest of them.

“Marc…”

Marc perks up to hide the way he wants to flinch at the worried sort of tone in Tal’s voice. “Yeah Tal?”

“Is something… is something wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

“Because,” Tal says, in a mostly-patient voice, “you are acting weird, now.”

“What? No I’m not-”

“Marc,” Tal half-whines, and Marc winces more visibly.

“It’s nothing, Tal,” Marc insists. “I just- I mean- he’s- I wasn’t expecting him to be so nice to m- to us, like this, y’know? It’s not like the knights have ever been… I figured this whole thing would just be us tolerating each other until we met up with Rilla and Scales and Damien, y’know?”

“So you’re acting weird… because Sir Angelo is being too nice?”

“Not- no,” Marc shakes his head. “Is it- is he just being nice? Or does he actually…”

“Does he actually what?”

“Like.” Marc’s words falter. “Does he actually like me? I mean-” he shakes his head quickly. “Does he actually like us, I mean.”

Talfryn frowns, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “It… it is Sir Angelo, Marc. Do you think he would fake something like that?”

“No.” Marc shakes his head, rubs the back of his neck. “Nah, it’s not that, he’s- he’s sincere and all, it’s just-”

“It’s just what?”

“I mean, he’s nice to everybody, Tal, he’s just- he’s just nice. And if he’s so enthusiastic about everything, how am I supposed to tell how he actually feels about me? How am I supposed to tell if this is just his normal nice or if- uh-”

Tal’s eyebrows are climbing towards his hair, his expression slipping towards incredulous.

“You…” Tal narrows his eyes. “You really care what he thinks about you, don’t you?”

“Wh- no I don’t.” Marc laughs, but it sounds strained even to his own ears. “That’s ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. Don’t- don’t be ridiculous, Tal. I just- like to know where I stand with people.”

“Marc-”

“Usually I don’t have to dig too hard, y’know? If folks don’t like me I tend to get the picture pretty quick, even if I pretend not to. I just- wanna know what he’s thinking. That’s all.”

“Well…” Tal says, and he sounds nearly patient, “I think you just answered your own question, then.”

Marc blinks. “Come again?”

“You just said that you think he’s sincere, and Sir Angelo has been going out of his way to make sure that we’re comfortable with him, so don’t you think you should just, I dunno, try to take him at face value? He likes you enough to be nice to you. I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

It’s a decent point. Marc’s stomach still feels a bit like a butter churn in the hands of an enthusiastic kid, though.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at the fire instead of at his brother. The earnest concern on his face is just- a bit much to try to deal with. “Yeah. Thanks, Tal. You’re probably right.”

Dampierre keeps walking too close to Angelo’s horse, no matter how many times Marc scowls at him and tries to urge him forward or back or at least another foot to the side. The horse just flicks an ear, sputtering lightly and smugly sticking his nose in the air as Marc is left helplessly close to the knight, who only ever grins and either doesn’t notice the closeness, doesn’t care, or is just too damn polite to comment.

Makes it easier for Angelo to hand him his share of Angelo’s apparently endless supply of sweets as they ride, at least. Marc certainly isn’t complaining about that.

Once they actually cross the border into Arum’s territory, the swamp itself is surprisingly easy going. Marc suspects that it’s pulling punches these days, at least when it comes to humans who might be friends of the lizard lord’s paramours. It’s nice in that it means they get to relax a little bit more, but less-than-nice in that relaxing gives Marc way too much time to think. Thankfully, that doesn’t last too long. Apparently, this big swamp thing and slash or the bug-lizard’s big castle was keeping an eye out for them, because they’ve only been traipsing through the muddy mottled green for a few easy hours before there’s that wild song again, and a literal magic portal pulls itself out of the mud.

Rilla’s got her arms around Tal’s shoulders in a laughing hug before Marc even realizes that she’s bolted through, and Angelo is laughing too, a booming, ridiculous sort of guffaw as he and Sir Damien clasp hands for only a moment before Angelo decides that just isn’t good enough and he’s lifting Damien fully into the air, making him squawk and kick his legs and laugh as well, and Marc’s cheeks hurt from grinning already before Rilla is patting Dampierre’s nose and gripping his wrist and smirking up at him.

“You boys have a good trip?”

Marc shrugs, feigning good old fashioned nonchalance as he watches Angelo smile like the sun at his best rival. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I guess it was alright.”

Tal loves the Keep, once he gets past the initial anxiety about hanging around inside something sentient. Marc really thinks he should have predicted that, actually. It’s a big weird plant. Tal loves big weird plants. He can’t seem to stop talking about how cool it is, and Scales doesn’t seem to know what to do with that exactly, and he settles somewhere between obviously pleased and puffed up indignation, but even Marc can see that the lizard is… mellower, now. He still snarls and rolls his eyes and complains kind of nonstop, but with Rilla and Damien around, he just seems… happier?

Or, y’know, maybe that’s just in contrast, considering Marc really only hung out with the big lizard before when his house was getting marched on by a bunch of weird animals, so what the heck does he know?

Angelo seems delighted by the structure too, and Marc gets a little ego boost when the Keep greets him personally with a strange little vine-hug, apparently remembering him from his little siege sleepover with Scales, and Angelo blinks at him in surprise at their familiarity.

“What?” Marc says with a feckless sort of smile, patting one of the vines with a hand. “Big cool castle and I go way back.”

Marc can’t figure out if it’s difficult to sleep in the Keep because it’s the Keep (like, he’s literally sleeping inside of a giant plant monster, seriously), or if it’s just because he’s gotten too used to Angelo’s snoring.

Either way, Marc thinks as he rolls over for just about the hundredth time tonight, it’s too damn quiet and he can’t say he likes it.

He can’t sleep. He’s making himself miserable, and for what? For some big ridiculous grinning-

For some knight, he’s wallowing in insomnia. It’s completely stupid, and completely untenable. He can’t- Marc can’t-

The trip is over, he thinks suddenly. This little experimental excursion is over and done, right? There’s no reason to stick around anymore, is there? Ta da, the knights on their quest to lie to the queen are reunited, and Marc and Tal are free again to go do… whatever. Whatever they want, wherever they want, with no random tag-along knights making Marc’s stomach do hourly backflips with his stupid smile.

Marc rolls over again, stomach feeling sour.

In the morning he’ll talk to Tal, and then they’ll both say their goodbyes to Rilla, and then they’ll get the hell out of here.

No point in hanging around where he’s not needed, anyway.

“And then, brave friend Marc called out for me to throw the sword, and when I did as he advised, he most skillfully intercepted my blade with one of his clever net traps, and the beast and sword were both consumed by the most brilliant flame - friend Marc is forever improving his tools and traps, you see, he often works upon them as we ride, or while we sit around the fire before the day’s meal is ready - oh, and of course the creature was utterly destroyed, leaving the blade quite easily reclaimed, with not a one of us so much as suffering a scrape. It truly was an incredible fight, my friend, I wish you had been there to see-”

“I feel you have described the skirmish quite adeptly, Sir Angelo,” Damien says with a warm smile. “I feel as if I were there to see it, as I can picture it that well.”

“Oh.” Angelo gives a pleased little grin. “I appreciate the kind words, Sir Damien, though I know my storytelling is not nearly as deft or skillfully dramatic as yours.”

“The true heart of a story, my friend, lies in the enthusiasm of whomever tells it, regardless of the verbal decoration.” Damien lilts, and Angelo is pleased, so pleased and proud of how happy and how settled his best rival looks. “I can tell how thoroughly you have enjoyed your journey with the brothers, and I am delighted that you were not unhappy in my absence.”

“I had no reason to be unhappy!” Angelo cries. “I missed you, of course, my friend, but I did not feel lonely for a moment on the road. Friend Talfryn is a clever and kind man to travel with, and friend Marc-”

Angelo pauses.

Damien raises an eyebrow. “Did he give you some trouble, Sir Angelo?”

“Oh, Saints above, no! Of course not! Quite the opposite, in fact, he was- that is- the journey was quite enjoyable by his side. He- well, I cannot say that I have ever laughed quite so much upon a journey as when he and I rode beside each other.”

Damien looks at Angelo, his brow furrowing just slightly. “Is that so?”

“Quite!” Angelo says with a soft sort of smile. “And he is rather knowledgeable about a great many subjects! And he has a sense of justice befitting the greatest of knights! And his skill with the blade has improved even further since our first encounter of single combat, when already he was a skilled opponent, and he is brave and clever and he always smiles so grandly and- oh, well, I suppose that I have set to rambling again, haven’t I?”

Damien stares at his rival, as Angelo laughs at himself and shakes his head, his cheeks distinctly pink.

“Sir… Sir Angelo…”

Angelo blinks, resettling his attention on his comrade. “Yes, of course! I apologize, my mind was elsewhere for a moment, my friend.”

“It is… quite alright.” He pauses, and then turns more fully to face the other knight. “Now… Sir Angelo, you do know that I support you in all things, yes?” Damien starts.

Angelo grins, wide and boisterous, and slaps a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “Of course I do, my friend, and I support you in all things as well! I would not be your best rival if I did not, now, would I?”

“Er- right. Yes.” Damien winces, just a little, and reaches up to rub at his shoulder where Angelo slapped it. “Well. What I mean to say is-” he pauses, and takes a deep, steadying sort of breath. “You know that I am not particularly… fond of… Marc-”

“You aren’t? Why ever not, Sir Damien? He is not anything like we were told-”

“I know,” Damien says with a grimace. “I know, Sir Angelo, and I am still- adjusting to that knowledge. But- what I am trying to say is… whatever my feelings are, towards Marc, I want you to know that you…” he pauses to sigh, then places his hand on Angelo’s shoulder gently, giving his friend a small smile. “I want you to know that you have my full support and loyalty in whatever direction you happen to aim your romantic endeavors.”

“Romantic… endeavors?” Angelo furrows his brow, blinking curiously for a moment. “Sir Damien, I am not sure what you mean. What could my growing friendship with Marc have to do with the idea of ro- oh.” Angelo’s entire expression flickers out, like a candle beside a door that opened too fast. Then, dawning in his expression is obvious shock. “Oh. Oh! Oh my Saints, Sir Damien- oh goodness, but I think I may have developed romantic feelings for friend Marc!”

Damien blanches, his expression falling open in dismay. “Y- you mean to say that you didn’t- you didn’t- realize? You didn’t know?”

Angelo doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Oh, Saints, oh mercy, this- I will- I must-” he pauses. “What… Sir Damien, what- what do I do?”

“Wh-what do you mean, Sir Angelo?”

“I have never- that is to say- I do not believe I have ever felt-”

Angelo pauses again, fidgeting in place, and his expression is something close to a grimace, his eyes gone wide.

“Sir Angelo-”

“Is that what this feeling is, Sir Damien? This- this strange warmth, his smile, the way I- I wish to h-hold him.” Angelo squeezes his own arms around his chest, tense and uncertain. “What- Sir Damien, what is one supposed to do, when one feels this way?”

Damien stares at his rival for a long moment, mouth agape. “Sir Angelo, have you never… no, no, certainly you must have, we... I am certain that we have discussed romantic intent in the past. There have been fair maidens of which you have spoken quite fondly-”

“Of course,” Angelo says, but his eyes are still shocked and he shakes his head. “But- but that was merely- that is how knights speak, is it not? I was simply-”

“Oh,” Damien says, his heart pulling. “Oh, Angelo…”

“Sir Damien, you know everything there is to know about following one’s heart,” Angelo says, seizing Damien’s hand. “Upon this subject, certainly you are the expert to whom I may turn. What- what do I do?”

“Er-” Damien goes wide-eyed himself, then. “Well, er, does he- do you think that he feels-” Damien stops short as Angelo flinches. “Right,” he says. “Right, you are unsure. And- and the idea of simply asking- of course it is a frightening prospect. I understand that, of course, Angelo.” Damien ducks his head, thinking hard. “What- Angelo, what do you want to do? Do you wish to… to court him?” he asks uncertainly.

“I… Sir Damien, I don’t know. I don’t know what is- what is supposed to happen next. If he does not feel as I do- I am very fond of h-his company, I would not wish to- to cause him to dislike my presence if these feelings are unwelcome. And certainly- friend Marc is deft with words, and quite outspoken. If he had any such affection for me in return- surely he would have spoken so, would he not?”

Damien opens his mouth, then closes it again for a moment before he sighs deeply. “Marc is… I very much doubt that Marc would… treat you in a judging way for your feelings, even if he does not feel romantically towards you in kind. That is… that is not the way that he is.”

Angelo’s shoulders sag. “You are… probably correct, Sir Damien,” Angelo says. “But somehow that does not make me feel any more sure, or any less afraid.”

“Sir Angelo…” Damien’s expression flickers, his concern clear and open on his face. He steps closer, flinging his arms around Angelo’s shoulders in a fierce hug. “I meant what I said. You have my support, in whatever way you need it. And…” he pauses, pulling back and giving a wry sort of look. “I know you as I know myself, and I know you well enough to say that you are not the sort of man to shy away from a difficult situation. You are brave, Sir Angelo, and bright, and undeniable as the dawn. I know that you will face this, and whether or not Marc is smart enough to see how brightly you glow- I know that your light will not be doused, not by this, and not by anything.”

Angelo’s arms tighten around Damien in return, squeezing until Damien’s breathless laugh cuts off in a squeak. When he sets the other knight back on his feet, Damien gives him an earnest sort of smile, gripping his arms.

“I think you know what you must do now, my friend.”

Angelo pauses. “… Continue to act as a stalwart friend, but now with the knowledge of my own feelings more clear within me?” he suggests, and it is only partially a joke.

“Speak your heart, Sir Angelo,” Damien says gently. “If you speak your heart, you may learn what lies in his own, and then take whatever step is next with that knowledge. And I will be here for you, and I will dearly love you, regardless of that outcome.” Damien’s smile goes a little tearful, then, the force of his emotion overtaking him for a moment. “I wish you only happiness. If there is any possibility that Marc can make you happier- Sir Angelo, you must attempt to find out. It is worth some risk, is it not?”

Despite his fears, despite his confusion, Sir Angelo finds that he agrees.

It takes a bit of time to find him, but eventually Angelo catches Marc outside the Keep’s walls, waiting by the treeline with Dampierre’s saddlebags packed and full. Angelo’s heart flips, then, and sinks, and his stomach wraps in anxious knots, but still he steps towards the other man. Still, he moves forward.

“Friend Marc!”

Marc’s shoulders go stiff, and he turns slightly in the saddle to glance back towards Angelo.

“Heh… hey, big guy,” he says, and then he turns towards the swamp again, his hands fiddling with the straps around his legs. “Just barely caught me. Tal’s just grabbin’ a little more from inside, and then we’ll be off.”

“You are- leaving so soon, friend Marc?” Angelo’s heart flops over in his chest again, nerves and disappointment crashing together. “I thought that perhaps… rather, I was hoping we would all spend some time together, at least a meal eaten side by side before…”

“Nah, sorry, big guy. We’re just gonna skip to the part where we get out of your hair,” Marc says, his smile tight and flat. “Tal wants to get a better look at the swamp since we kind of skipped most of it with that portal, and it’s not like Scales wants us hanging around his castle any longer than we need to, anyway.”

“But you were simply going to- leave? Without a proper farewell?”

“Figured that we’d be seeing you again soon anyway, Angie.” Marc is decidedly not looking at Angelo, now. And his hands are fidgeting on Dampierre’s saddle, not doing anything but simply pressing awkwardly and picking at the seams in the leather. “And goodbyes are always too damn sappy for me.”

Angelo does not know what to say. If Marc wishes to leave- of course he should not stop him. Perhaps their time traveling together has worn on the other man, perhaps he has grown tired of Angelo’s presence. Angelo has been told, before, that he can be wearisome. Too loud, and possessed of too much intensity, and too clumsy in body and mind and word. Angelo looks up, and Marc is still looking away.

… but Sir Damien is right, and even if Marc is determined to take his leave… Sir Angelo still must say what he has come to say.

“Before you- before you leave, Marc.”

Marc tenses, oddly, when Angelo says his name, but he finally looks at him after that, his smirk firmly set and his eyes- careful. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

“I- I- Marc, I… I quite like you,” Angelo blurts, and his cheeks feel hot as embers.

Marc laughs, then, and the embers all go out. Angelo feels like he has been dipped in ice, now.

“Yeah, Angie, I know,” Marc says, his tone high and tight between chuckles. “We’re friends, big guy, you don’t have to point it out or anything.”

“No, no that isn’t-” Angelo stops, feeling too large, feeling utterly foolish. “R-right. Yes. Of course. My apologies, I am- I know that I can be-”

“You don’t have to-” Marc’s smirk cracks for a second, goes strange like a grimace, but he waves his hand in between them and it flickers back. “Don’t apologize, Angelo, I know you’re just- being nice. Being you.”

“Er- y-yes.” Angelo pauses. “No,” he corrects, wringing his hands awkwardly in front of himself. “To be perfectly honest, no. I am not simply being nice, friend Marc. I- I do not know how to…” he trails off, brow furrowing in deep concentration, and Marc looks distinctly nervous as Angelo comes closer, and Angelo automatically pats Dampierre’s nose, though he keeps his eyes set on Marc.

“Angie-”

“I am not the most… skillful, friend Marc, when it comes to expressing my thoughts and feelings clearly. Or- or even in properly understanding them, at times. And I am- I am well aware that the feelings I have only very recently recognized may not be- returned, but I feel that it would be both cowardly and dishonest if I did not at least attempt to explain myself to you before you- before you leave.”

“Angelo, bud, you’re not getting all serious on me, are you?” Marc says lightly, but there is clear panic in his eyes.

“I intend to be precisely as serious as the situation and my feelings dictate. I apologize, also, if that is uncomfortable for you, friend Marc, but I am determined to say what I must.”

Marc fidgets in the saddle, his shoulders tense and his lips curved into a shape that isn’t really a smirk and isn’t really a frown either, and Angelo is a little bit overwhelmed by the understanding he feels. At last, he recognizes how very often his mind is preoccupied with the lines of Marc’s face, with the very casual sort of beauty that hangs upon him. How had he not noticed?

“Ah…,” Marc says, “I mean- if you’ve gotta get something off your chest I’m not gonna stop ya, Angelo.”

“Thank you,” Angelo says, and then he realizes that he is going to have to continue speaking, now that he has convinced Marc to hear him out. And- he had been laboring under the impression that I quite like you was going to be sufficient to reveal his feelings, so he had not planned well beyond that. His words are- he is not skillful in expressing himself, not compared to someone as poetic as his best rival or someone as quick and clever as Marc, so how can he show how he feels?

Angelo summons up from his reserve of courage and reaches out, and Marc’s eyes go wide when he settles his palm over Marc’s wrist, his thumb brushing against the skin there. “I think, perhaps, that you misunderstood the nature of my- my words. When I say, Marc, that I- that I like you, what I mean is- well-”

He hazards a glance upward, and Marc is staring at him, eyes still wide and cheeks flushing dark and something like-

Something like hope in his expression. Hope looks like a flare of sparks, on Sir Marc.

Angelo very gently shifts his grip, watching Marc watch him as he takes the other man’s hand. Marc’s fingers flex, his breath escaping in a very small ha, and then Angelo lifts his hand, calloused and scattered with scars and exactly as lovely as Angelo imagined. He lifts Marc’s hand, and brushes his lips over Marc’s knuckles in a kiss.

Angelo’s cheeks are hot, and his heart is warm, and when he raises his eyes again Marc is still staring down at him, and all he looks is stunned.

“A-Angelo,” he says, but he does not say anything more past that, and Sir Angelo is afraid, yes, of being mocked, of losing the camaraderie that he and Marc have eased into together- but his fear is not useful. Even if the worst potential outcome is realized, honesty is more befitting of a knight by far, and more befitting of Angelo himself, as well.

“I understand, of course, if you seek my company in the bonds of friendship and nothing else,” Angelo says, “I expect nothing from you. I only wish to be honest.”

And now that he has been honest, he knows he should not linger. If nothing else, Marc clearly requires time to- to overcome his surprise. He releases his grip on Marc’s fingers-

Marc, however, does not release his grip on Angelo’s.

“You-” Marc pauses, his throat working as he swallows. “Hang on. Angelo. You- like me? Like- kissing, like? Like you want to- to- with me?”

The idea of actually kissing Marc seems- distant, like a fable. A fable that makes his cheeks heat again instantly.

“Y-yes, yes indeed.” Angelo swallows roughly, dropping his eyes. “I apologize if- if this shall be a source of discomfort, between us. I value your friendship quite highly, Marc, and I do not wish to-”

Marc pulls on Angelo’s hand, and Angelo is surprised enough that he stumbles a step closer to Dampierre, blinking up at the strange new determination in Marc’s expression.

“Hey, catch me?” Marc asks, squeezing his fingers as his free hand quickly undoes the straps around his legs.

“Um. Yes?” Angelo nods, though he is quite confused by the suddenness of this turn. “Of course. If that is what you would like-” he lifts his arms, and then Marc is swinging himself out of the saddle, landing sideways in Angelo’s grasp with one of his arms slung around Angelo’s shoulder, and Marc’s face is very close, then. Very close, and his cheeks seem darker than usual beneath the scattering of his freckles.

“Angelo,” Marc says, breathless, and Angelo realizes that he quite likes the way that his own name sounds, in Marc’s voice. He quite likes Marc’s weight in his arms, as well.

“Marc,” he says in response, because he is still not sure what Marc intends, exactly, and he finds it is often most helpful to take his cues from those around him.

Marc’s hand is on Angelo’s cheek, then, his rough fingers only gentle, now, and that is already so very stunning that it takes Angelo a stuttered heartbeat to realize that Marc is leaning closer, leaning up, the hand on his cheek carefully angling his face towards Marc.

And then Marc is kissing him.

Kissing him.

His hand slips from Angelo’s cheek to his hair, tangling there and pulling him just a little bit closer, and the press of Marc’s lips is warm and tingling and wonderful and Angelo was right, before. Kissing Marc is like a fable. Like something out of a soft, safe dream.

Marc pulls back, eventually, and Angelo blinks his eyes back open, though he does not remember closing them.

“I, uh,” Marc pauses to clear his throat, and his crooked smile looks shy, of all things. “I like you too, Angelo.”

“Oh,” Angelo says, stunned past other words for a long moment. “Oh. Truly? You- truly you do?”

Marc laughs then, knocking their foreheads together. “Saints, Angelo, yeah! Obviously! The kiss wasn’t enough of a clue for ya?”

Angelo feels his cheeks heat. “I- I don’t- I’m sorry, friend Marc, I am very- unpracticed in-”

“Hey.” Marc leans up again, pressing their lips together quick and soft. “Relax, Angie, you’re fine, we’re fine. I don’t- I just can’t believe you actually- I can’t believe you like me too.”

“I,” Angelo pauses to laugh as well, something warm and bright bubbling up in his chest. “Yes. I feel precisely the same.”

Marc grins, squeezing the arm still wrapped around Angelo’s shoulder, and as Marc is leaning forward for another kiss, they both hear footsteps.

“Marc, I couldn’t find your bedroll. Are you sure you didn’t already... pack… it?”

Angelo glances to the side, where Talfryn is standing and staring, his pack slung around his shoulder and his horse following behind him.

“Suh, uh, yeah, sorry Tal,” Marc says. His voice is bright and flustered, but he makes no move to remove himself from Angelo’s steady grasp as they turn to address his brother. “I think we’re actually gonna- maybe stick around another night or so before we- y’know.”

“O-oh?” Tal says, his eyes flicking back and forth between the pair of them, dawning with slow realization. “Uh. Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Marc says. “I think- I think me and the big guy here have some stuff we gotta talk through together before we go running off again.” Marc looks up into Angelo’s eyes, smiling a lopsided, eager smile, and Angelo feels like he could sing. “Does that sound good, Angelo?”

“Yes,” Angelo says, holding Marc close and warm in his arms, and he feels just brave enough to press a kiss to Marc’s freckled cheek, smiling automatically when that causes Marc to stutter out a laugh. “In fact, I think that sounds absolutely perfect.”

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #mangelo #sir marc #sir angelo #LETS! GO!#i already have my lkt fic squared away too nano is GREAT i am LIVING

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 2: Horror Film Clichés

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he's tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Taylor and the girls take on the town as festivities kick off in the French Quarter, only to suffer the hallucinations he thought he'd left behind. On the way home things take a turn for the cinematically terrifying.

[READ IT ON AO3]

They’re certainly a trio to be reckoned with. Not that anyone looks in the mood to try.

Vera and a different pair of silk gloves — still in color-coordination with her outfit, which is pretty impressive — gently nursing her second hurricane through a neon straw. Taylor and his version of fun with his own looping straw in a coke bottle. And Kristin completely hammered between them; beads from the night before swinging with the shimmy of her body towards anything that looks even remotely fruity and, more importantly, on a ‘2 for 1$’ Mardi Gras Week special.

Frankly Taylor’s a little surprised. Would have thought his finally coming clean about the only secret left between them might have curbed her alcoholic appetite. He must not be hiding it well either; since Vera comes up beside him while they watch her do that thing drunk girl strangers do where they suddenly find the other girl the most beautiful creature in the world and will die if they don’t tell her.

So, like, typical Kristin stuff.

“She’s been looking forward to this for months,” Vera says with fond exasperation, “had three countdowns; one on her desk calendar at work, one on her phone, and —”

“Let me guess, one on your phone?”

Vera grins. “Old habits, huh?”

“Her exams were on my alarm schedule.”

“Ooh, gotcha.”

“Mmhm.”

He’d thought it would be hard getting along with Vera — the friend of the friend — but it couldn’t have been more the opposite. Vera was witty and charming and had the distinct drawl of a native Southerner without any of the local judgment. She was definitely as fish-out-of-water in the throngs of party-goers as he was; something hard to come by and even harder not to feel ashamed about in the natural, glowing presence of Kristin’s extroversion.

The hard part comes when it turns out most of the local clubs and dives Vera had put on their agenda have adapted to the needs of the season in all the colors of the vodka rainbow.

Taylor keeps insisting he’s fine — “no offense to your keen sober coaching skills but I have lived in this town on my own for a bit now, Krissy” — but she won’t have it. Not until she’s had her shot, had a mysterious game card punched (where did that come from?), and pushes them back out the way they came.

There’s a thoughtful touch to his arm that makes Taylor look back. Vera glances at the streets and their lights with something like recognition.

“I think I know a great lil’ place nearby if y’all are into anything off the beaten path.”

She says y’all like she’s speaking to them both but Kristin’s whoop of delight as she trades beads with a man covered from head to toe in different shades of glitter for kisses on the cheek says she’s long gone.

Which may work in their favor, actually.

“How far?” asks Taylor. Vera gestures airily.

“Just on the other block. It’s nothing special — just a place some friends and I used to hang out in when I was younger. More a place for historical value than something to add to Cookie’s drink card over there.”

But it sounds great to him. “I’m in. You wanna play rodeo this time or should I?”

As Taylor tips an invisible cowboy hat her way Vera giggles open and unafraid; puts on what she probably thinks is a more Texan edge to her accent and pretends the glittering floral piece on her bodice is a belt buckle.

“I think this is a two-man job, pardner.”

He tries to take her seriously — really, he does. But nope, nope, it’s just too silly. He can’t not laugh. “Never — ah! ha! — never do that again!”

Together they successfully corral Kristin back into the safety of their immediate vicinity and head over to Vera’s suggestion. Which, as it turns out, is exactly the kind of place Taylor’s been hoping they’d find all night.

Small and the exact opposite of crowded; filled with wooden surfaces both glossy and in need of a little love. Frames on the walls of years gone by but uncluttered — they leave him with the feeling of wanting to make his own space not just on the wall but in the world outside.

Once Kristin’s safe and snug in a rounded booth Taylor joins Vera up at the bar to bring back drinks.

“Two cokes and a water, please!” Even she sounds cheerier. What happens when you send two introverts out to party at one of the most crowded events of the year, he supposes.

“This one’s on me.” Taylor insists; is already forking out the bills.

Vera sighs but doesn’t exactly decline, waves in thanks as she heads towards the back where a neon sign says ‘LADIES.’ “Lemme go powder my noise for a second, cher.”

One minute he’s examining the bottles decorated with beads and stuffed with themed string lights for the occasion and the next he’s pressed against the bar with a hot and heavy voice husking in his ear.

“Pssst!”

Taylor sighs and gently pushes Kristin off. “I thought we told you to stay put in the booth.”

“Well, yeahduh,” she rolls her eyes like she’s done exactly as asked, continues on; “but this is more important!”

He waits. And waits. Finally has to ask. “What is?”

With drunken subtlety Kristin jerks her head to the last booth in the row. “That.”

“What?”

“That!”

Admittedly the first time he’s only humoring her. The second — and only because if she gets any louder the party outside might hear her — he actually looks. And probably would have missed the stranger and the glass he nurses in the shadows if Kristin hadn’t directly pointed him out.

His eyes haven’t exactly adjusted to the bar’s dim lighting yet; makes him have to squint with all tact out the window. There’s no pretending he’s doing anything other than trying to map out the face of the lone stranger.

Though there’s no pretending the stranger isn’t staring directly at him, either.

A leather-clad arm grabs his dusky tumbler and brings it up; lets it melt into the shadows he wears well. There’s an angular jaw and dark hair that blends in around him. The heavy tap-tap of a workman’s boot like an afterthought.

Whoever he is he’s definitely not dressed up for the festivities. Looks more at home in the shadows than the shadows themselves. Besides the glint of his eyes in the yellow bottled lights he wears the shadows perfectly.

Or maybe they wear him instead.

As a rule Taylor’s never been one to believe in cliches — things like love at first sight only happen in the movies. And judging by the chill that runs down his spine it’s definitely not love he’s feeling as his world zones in on the stranger and his shadows.

No, he’s quite familiar with this particular feeling; the tension in his jaw and the cold sweat that presses spandex and cotton to his back, the way things go a bit fuzzy around the edges and he’d rather this not happen ever again but definitely not now — not with people he knows.

Only… it doesn’t. As if he’s willed it into reality. Even with a heated face and the surprising tickle of sweat creasing on the outside of his eye.

Taylor waits, and waits, and waits… but the shadows stay shadowy and the man stays, well, manly. No hidden face in the depths — no sharp teeth or pitch-black eyes or, hell, rock-looking mountain skin.

The man is just a man. And as suddenly as the feeling overtakes Taylor it’s gone.

“Now Cookie, stop it — Taylor, hon? Taylor.”

Like the air was made of molasses and suddenly starts being air again Taylor turns his head all-too-quickly. Snaps to attention at Vera snapping her fingers in vain in front of his face. Lucky he’s still leaning against the bartop because the vertigo that follows is not pleasant.

“I… wha..?”

The back of her glove is warm against his forehead. He’ll have to buy her a new pair if he damages that one with his perspiration.

“Sweetheart,” the fact that the worry isn’t letting up in her tone should be evidence enough, “you look like the whole Mardi Gras parade just passed over your grave.”

The situation has the doubled effect of sobering Kristin up. She offers him what was supposed to be her water with a frown. “Damn, Tay, you look like a shadow or something.”

A shadow.

While terror at first sight might not be one of the cliches for the books he’s pretty sure vanishing into thin air is. The only thing left in the corner booth is the now-empty tumbler and a crinkled bill.

And there’s this sinking pit in his stomach that should he ask “Hey, what happened to that man in the corner?” the only answer he’ll get is “What man?” and another thing to tell his therapist about.

With shaking hands he takes the glass and sips it at Kristin’s urging.

“I —” god his throat burns like he’s not had a drop to drink in years, “— I think it might be my bedtime.”

He tries to laugh it off. Can’t even convince himself. Isn’t sure he wants to.

Vera gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. There’s something motherly about her smile. “I think it might be all’a our bedtimes.”

Kristin looks ready to argue — a look from her coworker stops her in her tracks; makes her silently agree.

Right now he couldn’t ask for better friends.

He could, however, ask for friends of a more sober variety.

“I don’t think this is the way to my place, guys. Why don’t we just call a car?”

“Relax worrywort,” Kristin tells him for the umpteenth time, “Vera grew up around here. She knows these streets like the back of her hand!”

She looks to Vera for confirmation but the look they get back is less than reassuring.

“It’s been a while since I’ve wandered these old roads, Cookie.” Vera looks apologetically at Taylor. He can’t blame her — he’s lived here more recently and still doesn’t know the back alleys and rues as well as he should.

“C’mon! Where’s your sense of adventure?” whines Kristin. Taylor’s pretty sure he left it back at the bar in the stranger’s corner.

Wherever they are they’re well beyond the party now. He strains to hear even the most distant sounds of the Quarter but the chorus of silence and accompanying locust orchestra.

Vera’s phone screen illuminates her face in a gaunt digital glow; shows just how quickly it turns into a frown. “That’s funky…”

“What is?”

She shakes her head, extends a hand. “Can I borrow your phone? My carrier must be mad I left New York.”

He offers it without thought. She takes Kristin’s, too, both screens like spotlights.

Funky isn’t the word he’d use to describe the troubled crease in her brow. “Vera; what is it?”

She lifts the phones skywards — points them at the numerous strings of telephone wires criss-crossing over them like a net. “Must be in a dead zone or something.”

Kristin giggles and knocks into his side. “Oooh how spooooky~”

Only he doesn’t share her sentiments. Not spooky but certainly troubling — and immediately his anxiety goes against him and decides to remember what Tilly the tour guide had said the day before about things worse than ghosts that liked to hang around New Orleans at night.

“Well then let’s walk until we find signal.”

There isn’t any three blocks to the right. Or two blocks up and four over. Kristin stops complaining about how much her heels make her feet ache a little while on. The night air’s done wonders to clear her head but he almost wishes she still had the distraction of a buzz to keep her from worrying.

If he wasn’t so concerned with the surroundings getting less and less familiar by the minute he might make a quip about their reliance on unreliable technology.

“What was that?!”

Taylor hisses; pries Kristin’s nails out of his arm like shrapnel. Can still hear her high-pitched shriek ringing in his ears. She sounds like just another cicada.

She’s fixated on the empty street behind them. Nothing moves under the dim lamplight — not even a bit of grass in the wind. Had there been a breeze before? He doesn’t remember.

Vera takes on a little bit of the Kristin-duty — gently coaxes her over to hold her gloved hand tightly and shushes her nice and steady.

“What spooked ya, baby girl?”

“I could have sworn I saw…” She searches the darkness with a scrutiny that doesn’t ease Taylor in the slightest. “There was a movement and…”

“And,” Vera finishes for her, “it was probably just a bird over the moon. You’re only freakin’ yourself out. One foot in front of the other, you know how it goes.”

It’s enough to get them moving again. Taylor rubs his hands over his bare arms and looks up at the cloud-covered moon.

Two more blocks and Taylor’s finally had enough. If they didn’t have any signal closer to civilization then they certainly aren’t going to get any in the heart of shotgun houses and street lights every quarter mile.

“This is getting us nowhere. Maybe we should just double back to the Qu —”

Kristin interrupts him with another shriek and a jabbed finger.

“There it is again!”

But, again, there’s nothing but the night. Taylor sighs. “Okay, no more ghost watch for Kris —”

This her third scream almost breaks his eardrums. Makes Taylor wince and clap a hand over one ear as he glares between the girls in frustration. How the hell she managed it with her mouth closed he doesn’t know, but it’s getting to be too much.

Makes him gawk at Vera who gives a full-body shiver. “Seriously?”

Tears prickle at the edges of Kristin’s eyes and her lower lip wobbles the same as it does when she sees a movie with more than one dog.

“Taylor… that — that wasn’t Kristin.”

“Stop, Vera, yes it —”

“Cher I’m standin’ right next to her.”

He takes a step forward. Feels a sudden cold like the bite of winter on the back of his neck as he places his clammy palm over Kristin’s mouth.

And, as if triggered by touch, the cicadas stop their serenade at the unearthly screech so loud it thins the air around them. The kind of noise that makes blood turn over and go sour. Makes it stop pumping in your chest and, in the void left, lets your heart begin pumping liquid fear instead.

They’ve all seen how this goes down: separation means being picked off, running means there’s something to run from. Like there’s something bred deep into their mortal bones the three take hands and usher one another along with haste.

“What is it?” Kristin whispers thickly.

“I don’t know —”

“— and I don’t want to find out.” Vera finishes for him. Keeps looking back behind them even though the high-pitched howl echoes off the ramshackle homes in all directions.

Taylor knows the logical thing to do would be to pound on doors until some sleepy, confused soul dares to confront them. Knows they’ll somehow be safe surrounded by thin walls and the presence of a stranger. The monsters in horror movies never show up when there’s an unknowing witness, right?

But logic doesn’t exist in horror movies.

And his life just became one.

The housing alleys open up onto a main road — deserted, as per horror movie logic — with a large brick wall across.

He recognizes it immediately.

“Come —” —does the howl that drowns him out sound closer or is it just him?— “— come on! Over the wall!”

They’re in the middle of the street when Vera gets her bearings; stops them all with a surprisingly strong grip despite the slippery gloves.

“No way!”

But the cemetery is so close. “Well we don’t exactly have a ton of options!” He hisses.

“Trust me on this when I say whatever’s locked up in there at night is worse than what might be out here.”

He yanks back his hand as if burned.

“What-ever?”

Taylor doesn’t miss it. Wouldn’t give a slip of the tongue much thought given the circumstances only Vera seems genuinely fearful at the distinction between who and what.

“Whoever—whatever! Just — that’s a dumb idea. You’re gonna get us killed.” She argues.

Kristin looks between them and bites her lip white. “Guys…”

“Vera, do you know something?”

“What — I don’t —”

“Do you know something about this?!”

In the absence of screeching the silence is somehow worse.

Vera looks down and to the left.

“No.”

Fuck. They so don’t have time for this right now.

“Krissy — come on!” Thank god she doesn’t hesitate — looks back at Vera crestfallen before crossing the road to the cemetery with him.

He’ll feel bad about leaving her behind if and when he gets the chance to look back — not fondly, no fucking way — but every nerve and fiber of his being is screaming uncertain about even that.

With grunts and effort he hikes Kristin up enough for her to grab onto the top of the wall. Fights off the paranoia that comes with the suddenly restless shadows around them.

Kristin lays flat on her belly at the top; reaches down and helps Taylor scramble up before his shoes can resist the mossy surface.

Poised to leap down he throws a last look back. Vera’s nowhere to be seen.

“Taylooor!”

He vaults down into the safe entrapment of Lafayette Cemetery Number Two.

Before both feet even hit the ground Kristin’s on him; smacking him with open palms and tears down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you just left her you asshole!”

She left Vera, too, but something tells him that’s not the right thing to say.

“It was her choice.”

“Dude — nobody thinks clearly in shit like this! Oh my god — what did I do? We need to go back.”

He grabs her wrists. “No. Krissy, no. Look at me. Look at me!” Doesn’t mean to shout but it’s the only way to get through to her right now. If anyone was the blonde in the movie…

“Something’s not right, okay?”

“Yeah, leaving her wasn’t —”

“No — fuck — stop! I mean it felt like she… she knew something… someone…”

And here comes the headache again. Maybe just being near alcohol is the problem. Can’t do much about it now — even sober it oozes from Kristin’s pores.

But is it a hallucination if they’re seeing—hearing—it too?

He watches her face crumple and does the only thing he can. Pulls her into a bone-crushing hug both to stifle her sobs and feel the grounding presence of her fluttering heartbeat.

“W-WW-We’re the dumb white teens in-n the gg-gore flick, Tay.”

There’s nothing humorous in his laugh.

“Yeah, we are.” Pushes her back gently and points behind her — across the cemetery to the far wall beyond.

“I was here yesterday. There’s a twenty-four hour cafe on that side. We make it there and by movie logic: no more being chased, right? Right?” He waits until she nods; tries to muster up a smile but knows the twist of it is nowhere near reassuring. “Good. Then come on.”

Only Vera had their phones. And the dead don’t need night-lights.

They use the worn stone tombs to keep themselves steady. Make it all the way to the dividing path of the cemetery under the cover of almost pitch darkness when the moon decides to peek its ugly mug out from behind the clouds.

The wind stops mid-groan.

He’s just being cautious. Just keeping an eye on their surroundings. No matter the who or the what there can be a very real danger posed in cemeteries at night. It’s not just a ploy to scare tourists. So he’s just being cautious.

Only he could repeat that excuse until his tongue bleeds and Taylor would know it’s not the whole truth. Not that he’d admit to knowing he needed to look at the entrance gates at that exact time in that exact place.

No; nothing save torture would get him to admit that.

Long wisps of tattered cloth billow in the still air. Translucent, like mummy wrappings. Trailing outwards from the gaunt and yellowing skull in a burial halo.

No, not a skull. Skulls don’t have flesh but as his eyes adjust to the waning moonlight he can see the rotting, putrid remains of skin still clinging; holding on for dear life against hard cheekbones, sinew holding together a gaping jaw.

The decay makes it harder to tell the difference between organic and fabric the more of the creature he takes in. Could play a funky little samba tune on each protruding rib but can’t see through it to the spine. The bones deform down at the hands; the talons bearing rust-covered manacles ripped from the depths of some place that makes him question his spirituality.

And Taylor imagines the combination might have made the feet of the thing look comical — if it had any. But it ends, stunted, at skin pulled taut over the pelvic bone before it dissolves into writhing maggots and the remains of what might have once been an angelic-white burial shroud.

But he’s an actor — he’s seen what the film industry can do, the magic of stage blood and putty. He’s seen some pretty ugly realities made from fake props.

It’s the smell that isn’t a fake. That same curling, chemical smell bodies have at wakes. Formaldehyde. And under that a sour and metallic odor that literally — no, literally — makes anything living near it wilt, brown, and wither into spidery white fungi and black-spiked mold.

The world is quiet. Almost blissfully so. Like it wants Taylor to let the creature be just another figment of his imagination.

It raises a claw. Warped fingers curled. And points at his heart.

Behind him Kristin gives a shattering shriek. The creature’s jaw falls gaping and meets her at every decibel.

His cries of “Go — go go — GO!” are lost to the ringing in his ears as the skeleton—thing—whatever-it-is raises its arms and tears through the metal gate in one fell swoop. Cuts through it like fingers through a waterfall and with the touch of death that makes the iron curl and twist in on itself; age with rust and years it shouldn’t have been forced to see so soon.

Then it’s floating — actually floating — towards them. Really really fast.

They trip over themselves, one another in their haste to run. Taylor makes sure to push Kristin ahead of him. Doesn’t know if that’ll do anything in the long run to prolong her life or just stave off her inevitable suffering but he can’t not try.

“Keep running!” Don’t look back.

“I am!”

“Don’t look back!” Keep running.

“Wasn’t planning on it!”

In a startling move Kristin grabs the corner of a mausoleum and whips around it — has to grab Taylor by the hem of his shirt so he can follow because there’s absolutely no way they’re splitting up now.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygo —”

His turn to yank her along through the narrowing paths between the crypts. “Nope — no time for that shit. Move!”

But in the back of his mind Taylor’s screaming at himself; they’re only going further into a cage of their own making. Leaping over the other wall was a good idea when they had the time and the clarity of mind but now, being chased by Jacob-Marley-from-Hell, they were in short supply of both.

And losing more by the second.

Hide. It’s coming.

Common sense, right? So why does Common Sense suddenly have a voice that echoes in his head like a thousand different cries?

Hide!

He spots the gaping void of black like moon gives it a spotlight. Grabs Kristin’s hair — he’ll apologize later — to get her attention. Together they slip between the sliver of space in the open stone door.

“In here!”

“What the fu—”

Taylor clamps his sweating hand over her mouth as their creature gives another howl to the night. Drags its claws against stone because why wouldn’t it be absolutely fucking terrifying like that?

He blinks; lets his eyes adjust to the almost-too-darkness to fixate on Kristin’s trembling eyes. A knowing glance and he lets his hand slip down.

“What do we do?”

Yeah, Common Sense, what do we do? Taylor knows he’s not going to get an answer. There’s no script here — no director and no blocking. Just him and his dumb brain being clouded by panic.

“All right listen,” he whispers back, “whatever… whatever that is it tore right through the gates. If we can get there maybe…”

“Maybe it’ll chase us out there?”

“Krissy.”

“I know — I know. I just…” She gives him a look and he knows. Feels it, too. That cold sweat and the fear of the unknown. But one step at a time.

They wait until the creature’s cry sounds distant; maybe on the other side of the cemetery? Maybe not — not that they really have a choice.

Taylor goes first. Looks left, right, left again and has a fucking heart attack at tree branches looming overhead but it’s enough space to run so they run for it.

Fouled rot his them like a wall and he doesn’t have to look back to know it’s behind them in hot pursuit. He does anyway. What skin is left around its mouth tears and snaps to push out another bellowing scream.

Blood drips hotly from its teeth.

“KRISSY RUN!”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice.

The chase could be minutes, could be seconds. It could be an hour-long montage of weaving in and out of narrow escapes and almost-captureds or something out of Scooby Doo. Whatever it is it sucks the life out of them both but only gives that thing more energy the longer it goes on.

And then—then—he catches sight of a familiar path of dead grass and a molding bereavement bouquet.

“Come on! We’re almost there!” he cries; reaches back behind him flailing for Kristin’s hand in his.

They’re going to make it.

I’m so sorry.

Stop. No. He can see the gate.

I’m so, so sorry.

Kristin’s fingertips like butterfly kisses brush his wrist. Then nothing. And now he knows how awful silence is compared to the cry of the dead.

Taylor skids to a stop. Turns to see Kristin just standing there in rigor mortis — just letting it approach her in undulating rags and spectral death. Watches with open-mouthed horror as one of the skeletal hands reaches out to touch her.

It’s obscene how gentle the touch looks. Soft like a lover brushing from the tip of her forehead to her parted lips. The more it trails the paler she becomes and he’s not crazy when he can see the pulsing, pounding of her veins running black instead of blue underneath her sheet-white complexion.

The hardest part is not knowing whether she turns to him in a last, desperate act or if the creature compels her head to turn. But the milky whites of her eyes are branded into his memory for good.

Kristin crumples to the dirt; another dead thing at its feet.

And it fucking grins at him.

The last thing Taylor realizes is how much the thing is enjoying it; this — the chase. Makes him feel a warmth down his legs through his jeans and leaves him paralyzed.

He’s pretty sure the image of Kristin’s eyes reflected in the abyss of its rotting sockets isn’t a hallucination. But the figure that appears seemingly out of nowhere behind? Oh most definitely.

And the bright white light that shines, radiates, swallows the shadows in a bellyful that leaves him blind? Yeah, that too.

And the weightlessness? Well… now he’s probably just dreaming.

He can’t remember… do horror films get last-minute rescues?

#nightbound #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #vera reimonenq #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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incandescent-creativity · 5 years ago

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20 Questions Tag

tagged by @homesteadchronicles !

OKAY SO

I accidentally answered all of the ones Jake answered, before I saw he left questions for me at the end, and I didn’t want to waste all that time, so

This was originally a 10 Question tag, and I’m putting his questions first, but there’s 10 more below the cut because I say so.

1. When you find a book at the store, what about it makes you decide to buy it or put it back on the shelf?

Well, if it’s a book in a series or by an author I know and like, I’m going to get that. I barely look at the premise of new Stephen King books anymore.

But other than that, if the inside flap sounds like a good story, and if the first page sounds like something I can read and enjoy.

2. What would your book’s ideal cover look like, should you have access to any artist you’d want and any resources you would need to make it a reality?

I’ve already made mock covers, you can find them on the title slides of my comic sans presentations, so I guess they’d just look like those, but nicer?

Although, tbh, I’m a bigger fan of these SOLE fan covers by @writeouswriter. I think they capture the themes of the story better, and I might play around with remaking the SOLE cover soon, inspired by their work!

3. If you could rewrite one story - be it a book, game, movie, show, etc. - which would it be and why?

Two options:

One, the ending of Game of Thrones. I know that might be a cliche or expected answer, and I’m usually not one to critique works that I watch, but Jaime abandoning Brienne made literally no sense.

The other option is a book we’re reading for class: Phantoms, by Christian Kiefer. Inconsistent grammar, bad writing style, hardly any plot actually happening, fake deep sentences and weird descriptions... Ugh.

4. Have you ever given a story a second chance and liked it better the next time through? What caused your opinion to change?

Really, truly, changing the urban fantasy TREE Series to the high fantasy LORE Series was the best decision I’ve ever made. I went from feeling lukewarm about the story to feeling on fire, and it might be solely because of the opportunity to worldbuild so much.

5. What do you believe endears an audience to a character?

Relatability! A character has got to be relatable, at least in some capacity. That’s how you make good villains: you show that they are so far gone down whatever hole they’ve fallen into that they can’t be relatable anymore.

(Also what makes a good villain is making them just relatable and logical enough that you see where they came from. It’s a weird line that never appears in the first draft)

6. What kind of romances do you prefer to read about and/or watch unfold? (Soft and shy, hot and sexy, slow burn, enemies to lovers, etc.)

Soft and shy slowburn of best friends to lovers will get me EVERY TIME

Like do y’all remember Percy and Annabeth from Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series? That was the ULTIMATE romance of my childhood. I bet if I went back and read it, it would still hold up, too. Those two went to Tartarus and back with only each other. Peak Romance.

7. What type of AU’s are your guilty pleasures, be they for your stories or for others? (Modern, High School/University, Coffee Shop, Vampires, etc.)

I’ve never written a vampire story, but I think I’d like to try.

This was not the question, but I don’t really have any guilty pleasures! I write what I write and I write what I want and I hardly ever do AUs.

8. If only one age demographic would ever read your books, which would you choose and why?

“New Adult,” which I’m not even sure is a genre. Like, early 20 year olds.

9. If you could pay homage to one person in your life through your stories and/or characters, who would it be and why?

Probably myself?

These are my stories, and as much support as I’ve gotten from friends (and even the occasional family), at the end of the day, they’re most important to me, I’m the one who’s put the most work into them, and if I can represent and immortalize myself...

I think I’ll be happy.

10. If every reader walked away from your story having been changed in one significant way, what would you want it to be and why?

For the SOLE Project, I want readers to learn that isolating themselves will never solve anything, and will probably make things worse. Also, take action against climate change (but do it with other people).

For LiaHT, I want people to know it’s okay not to have all the answers, and be at peace with all parts of themselves.

For LORE, I want people to start treasuring the power of friendship and the power of hope.

---

SECOND BATCH

1. What are your character’s favorite foods or snacks?

Christian will snack on anything he can get his hands on. Nora likes cookies. Zach likes fruits and pastries, especially fruity pastries. Dr. Agau and Beth are (shockingly) very practical people: nuts, berries, cheese, handfuls of those... think of trail mix.

2. What playlists do you listen to when writing?

I use video game playlists! They’re usually wordless and motivating, which is nice. I like to use this playlist on Spotify, or this website (you can’t skip songs, but there’s also some weird metal and screaming songs on the playlist so like. Pick your poison).

3. Which OC is/was your favorite to create?

Dr. Agau is still my favorite, I think. She’s just so... I don’t know, in control? Obviously, she uses her control and power to abuse children, so she’s an awful person, but come on. Who doesn’t long for a sense of absolute control over circumstances in their life.

A close second are Ash and Zach. It’s fun to think of all the ways they balance each other and differ from each other, and the few areas they are similar in.

4. What is the first book you read that made you cry?

The only book that’s ever made me cry is the ending of Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman.

5. Do you hide any secrets in your books as a way of foreshadowing?

Not intentionally? The things I hide are mostly references to old drafts, like when Beth finds a body in Agau’s laboratories that’s named Kati (an old character who I cut out of the story).

6. What is the most difficult part of your writing process?

Starting.

Seriously, whether it’s starting a chapter, figuring out where to start the story as a whole, starting to resolve something, I just find beginnings... very difficult. I haven’t found a good formula for them yet.

7. Which of your characters would you like to meet or get to know irl?

I think Zach and I would get along fabulously!

I also have trouble with Matt’s character, and Hans’s, so maybe I could get to know those boys a bit better.

8. Was there a situation in your writing that you took from your own life?

I don’t take exact situations as much as I take feelings. All the pieces of my writing that are Beth having panic attacks, of Zach not knowing where he’s going with his life, of Nora stressing over school... Our circumstances may be very different, but the feelings are usually pretty direct.

9. Do your characters have reoccurring symbolism in their dreams?

Weirdly enough, I don’t think I’ve ever written a dream sequence for a character. I’ve written a nightmare, but only one, in all of my writing.

Huh.

10. Which Hogwarts houses would you sort your characters into?

Slytherin: Dr. Agau, Beth, Ash, and Maluka

Ravenclaw: Michael

Hufflepuff: Hallie, Hans, Zach, Olufemi, Finnigan, Nora

Gryffindor: Christian, Matt

Apparently I have a type.

#tagged in #about me

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themadamelibrarian · 5 years ago

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Carry On - Part 4 of Of Hyacinths and Cookies

Rating: Mature Relationships: Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, Dean Winchester, Tyson Brady (Demon) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Demonic Possession, Demons, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Sam, Omega Jessica Moore, Surprise Ending Summary: Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who’s followed along with this. I hope you enjoy the final chapter to this story. It was fun to write and even more fun to share with y’all.

Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought.

Share this story and show support for the creator!

Tagging: @copperseraphim @thenanahunter @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @idabbleincrazy @truxblooded

LINK TO AO3

Over the past two years Jessica and Sam had developed a smooth rhythm in their lives. Each circling the other and making their lives richer following Sam’s claiming. They were happy, even if they were two broke college students that got strange looks when someone would notice Jessica’s claiming bite.

In fact, when Sam called Dean to tell him the good news, he was happy for his younger brother, Even offering to drive out to California around Christmas time, if he was free. It’d been too long since he and Sam had seen each other, and Dean was keen to meet the Omega who’d gotten his little brother to commit before he graduated. It was a visit that Jessica was looking forward to as well, even if it did make her a little nervous. That’s why it came as a surprise when Dean showed up right after Halloween talking about their father disappearing and needing Sam’s help.

Jessica was hoping that they would have the weekend together. While Sam was outside talking to his brother, she pulled out the box she’d made while Sam was in class. Stroking a loving finger over the top of the small, oblong box, she stuffed it into the bottom of his duffle bag and quickly packed clothes on top of it, hoping he’d find it while he was on his trip. If she couldn’t tell him in person, this would have to be the next best thing. He took the bag from her when he came back inside, explaining that he’d be going with Dean, promising that he’d return by Monday.

By Sunday, Jessica realized just how lonely it was in the house without Sam. The quiet was almost unnerving, but Jessica managed by keeping herself busy. She called her mom, baked, cleaned, studied, and spent a few minutes flipping through magazines.

Later that night, while she was studying, the doorbell rang. Saving her spot with a bookmark, Jessica went to the door and checked the peephole; it was Brady. Inwardly groaning Jessica pressed her forehead to the door.

There was a time that Brady was Sam’s best friend and a fantastic guy, but then he’d came back from Thanksgiving break last year. He had started partying and it quickly escalated until the entire campus seemed to avoid him unless they wanted to party’. Lately, he’d been better and Sam had been speaking to him more after a brief stint of silence.

Instinct told her to ignore the doorbell and go back to her books, but she squashed that down as nerves from being alone in the house for too long. Opening the door, Brady greeted her with charming smile, explaining that he was there to pick up a book that Sam had promised to lend him.

Jessica held the door open and invited him in. “What was the title? I’ll find it for you,” she offered, as Brady stepped inside and slipped off his jacket.

“Bleak House by Charles Dickens,” Brady said, “Sam said it’s something everyone should read before they die.”

“He is a total Dickensian nightmare,” Jessica went to the bedroom as she explained that the book was probably there.

Unseen, Brady’s eyes flickered black for a moment as he followed her. Those onyx eyes roving over her frame, “Oh, I don’t know. I think he has pretty good taste.”

“Then you haven’t been around when he gets a craving for mac and cheese with marshmallow fluff,” Jessica said with a light laugh. Finding the book, she pulled it off the nightstand and turned to find Brady right behind her, black eyed with a malicious grin. Before she could make a sound he pushed her down onto the bed with his hand over her mouth.

“It’s a shame really. Such a pretty girl like you,” Brady’s words dripped with a dangerous sweetness that struck terror deep in Jessica’s heart. Balling up her fists, she tried to hit and kick her way out of Brady’s hold but he gripped her throat and squeezed so tight that she couldn’t take a breath, “Are you gonna be a good little Omega, or do I have to choke the life out of you?”

Jessica’s eyes widened as her blood ran cold. Her vision started to dim from the lack of oxygen, Brady’s hand loosened and she stopped fighting to take deep ragged breaths through her nose.

“Sammy’s a lucky ducky,” Brady said as his thumb stroked along her throat, “A man like him playing house with a woman like you. He really won the jackpot. Honestly when you two met, I thought you’d be good for a little debauchery, loosen him up a bit. But then you just had to use that Omega pussy to snare him. You got him firmly by the knot, don’t you?”

Releasing her, Brady waited until she tried to run for the door before flicking his wrist and sending her crashing into the wall, “After tonight it won’t make any difference. You are a means to an end for me, princess.” Brady snarled as he lifted his hand and she slid up the wall, her nails dragging as she tried to resist.

Even though she could feel her mouth moving, she was mute. She didn’t understand what was happening. How was Brady doing this? What is he? Maybe I’m having a nightmare. That’s it. I’m asleep on the couch after watching too many horror flicks. Sam, where are you? Help me, Alpha….I’m scared. You promised to protect me… I don’t want to die… not now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp, slicing pain of Brady cutting her abdomen without touching her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and drip down off her nose as she was suspended and bleeding above her and Sam’s bed. Jessica thought that this was the end, until she heard Sam come through the door calling her name. She looked around in a panic and didn’t see Brady anywhere.

Sam! Don’t come in here… I don’t know where he is… he’ll kill you too… it’s got to be a trap. Jessica tried to warn her mate as he walked into the bedroom eating one of the cookies she’d baked that morning. She watched Sam stretch out on the bed with his eyes shut and her heart shattered. I love you, Sam. Always love you… Look up… I’m here, Alpha.

The first drop of blood dropped down and landed on the tanned skin of Sam’s forehead. He opened his eyes and started screaming her name. Jessica wished she could hold him once more. Everything she knew was obliterated as it was replaced with agony as she burned, the sound of Sam’s screams seemed to echo in her mind for an eternity.

.oOo.

The sound of Sam’s sporadic sniffling had been the only thing Dean had heard since they had gone to the cemetery after Jessica’s funeral. Sam had come back to the hotel a complete mess and refused to do anything other than stare at the two boxes he’d pulled from his bag; both left unopened. Deciding to give his little brother some space, now that he seemed to have calmed down, Dean went to get them some food.

As soon as Sam heard the telltale rumble of the Impala’s engine, he laid aside the smaller dark blue box, he already knew what it contained. He turned the oblong box over in his hand and slowly opened the lid. Reaching inside he pulled out a folded up photograph of a positive pregnancy test clipped to a piece of paper. Written on the bottom of the picture was ‘Congratulations on getting into Law School, Daddy!’ Sam felt the tears welling up in his eyes again as he opened the letter, he had not only gotten the scholarship but he an early acceptance into Stanford Law School.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he pulled out a small folded square of clothing and unfolded it. It was a onesie with the words ‘Lil’ Paralegal’ scrawled on the front in Jessica’s handwriting. Seeing the last gift that Jessica obviously made for him, the dam that he’d been shoring up broke once more.

Fisting the onesie and pressing it against his forehead as his grief overwhelmed him; he wept for the loss of a family he didn’t even know he had started. Once he collected himself, he was able to start packing up the items. Even if he wasn’t ready to let go of her, but he had to start living without her.

Pausing as he looked down at the dark blue box he’d sat aside earlier, before he tucked it away, he flipped it open to take a last look at the simple engagement ring he had bought a few months ago. Snapping the lid shut on the ring box and placing it alongside her gifts, he carefully packed all of it away. A little piece of Jessica that he’d always have to remind him of what he could have had. A reminder that he should have protected his Omega. The next morning, as he rode in the car with his brother at the wheel, he tried to block out the memory of the fire and the smell of burnt cookies and wilted flowers.

#My Writing #Supernatural #Fanfiction #spn fanfic #abo dynamics #alpha!sam winchester #Omega!Jessica Moore #Sam Winchester #Jessica Moore #jessica moore/sam winchester

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pinknerdpanda · 7 years ago

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Embellished

Word Count: 750

Characters: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Childish tantrums, fluff

A/N: This was written for @trexrambling Madlibs Challenge - the prompt is italicized bellow. Jess, you deserve all the love and all the followers. Thank you for consistently hosting some of the most creative challenges I have seen. This was truly a challenge.

Beta’d by: My wonderful twinny @hannahindie and the always charming and lovely @masksandtruths. You are both precious and I adore you. Thanks for the support and love!

Embellished

It might have been awkward and cranky, but you still hate it. Sam had insisted on making the drive out, but you don’t really see his reason for it. You maniacally climb out of the fuschia vehicle you’d managed to “borrow”. “What the heck is that?” you ask.

Your voice carries, drawing odd looks from people making their way inside. Sam hasn’t completely unfolded himself from the driver’s seat of his own car before you’re charging, head first toward him.

His smile deflates as he watches you pick your way across the washed out gravel driveway. On the best of days, your fed shoes are a pain in the ass; today, you’re fairly certain they are instruments of death. The look on Sam’s face is one on concern and fear as though he’s afraid you may fall to your death if he doesn’t help you, but afraid if he does you will only become more irate.

Stopping in front of him, you pause to catch your breath and adjust the hem of the putrid green chiffon dress that had been thrust, unwillingly, upon you. He’s trying desperately to contain his amusement, but his dimples disappear only to reemerge more prominently once again.

“Well, hello. It’s nice to see you too,” he pecks a kiss to your forehead, though in your state of near hysteria, you’re hardly phased.

“What the heck is this?” Your voice is nearly two octaves higher than normal. You flail your hands around him, like you’re swatting at invisible flies.

“What?” The humor drains from his face as the full force of your anxiety hits him.

“This is my sister’s wedding, Sam,” your voice cracks. “And you look like Paul Bunyan.”

“I got here as soon as I could, but I didn’t have my suit in the car.” Sam’s mouth turns upside down in that adorable little perfect frown only he is capable of making. Adorable is not exactly how you would describe it at the moment.

“I don’t even know why you insisted on coming,” you mumble, more frustrated than you’d intended.

“You just sounded so lonely and I figured you would appreciate the company.” He studies you, his face falling. “Am I...embarrassing you?”

“No!” You stomp your foot, looking vaguely like a toddler who’d just been given the wrong color fork. You sigh, guiltily. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. It’s just this whole weekend has been a nightmare. My entire family thinks I am a complete failure and my sister has spent every waking second rubbing her success in my face. I just kinda snapped. I showed her a picture of you and for the first time in my life, she seemed to envy me. So, I kinda...embellished.”

Sam crosses his arms over his broad chest and you shrink back, ashamed. He eyes you silently for what feels like hours.

“Embellished how, exactly?”

You clear your throat, refusing to meet his gaze. “I told them you were a successful prosecuting attorney from Texas,” you mumble.

The weight of his stare is unsettling as you kick absently at a loose piece of gravel.

His voice startles you. “Ok, well, there was an emergency at the ranch and the airport lost my luggage. I came with the clothes on my back and got here just in time.”

You jerk your head up to find his hazel eyes glittering mischievously. The surprise and curiosity must be written on your face. “Lying about who I am is literally half of my job. Next time, just give me a heads up.”

“I’m so sorry for being an ass, Sam.” You wrap your arms around his waist, taking a deep breath and savoring the scent of him. Pulling back, you look up into his handsome face. “Thank you for coming.”

He stoops to kiss you and you feel his smile against your lips. “Well, I would certainly hate to have missed seeing this with my own eyes.” He traces a finger along one strap of your dress, the light touch making you shiver. He trails his hand down your arm, weaving his fingers between yours and leading you toward the small church. You clutch on to him, allowing him to steer you around the rain-washed trenches and occasional potholes.

“By the way,” he chuckles, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the hot pink Honda as you pass by. “That is, uh, some car you have there, y/n. Great job blending in.”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all:

@wheresthekillswitch @pretty-fortune @arryn-nyxx @emilywritesaboutdean @fandommaniacx @cookie-dough-lova @impandagrl @maddieburcham1 @trexrambling @beachballsizeladyballs @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @winchesterprincessbride @that-writer-one @deansdirtyduchess @fandomismyspiritanimal @angelsandwinchesters @cfordwrites @zenia3 @charliebradbury1104 @9769997118 @mogaruke @luulaachops @supernaturaldean67 @barbedwireandbubblegum @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @muliermalefici @galaxy-jellyfish-queen @canadianjelly @kathaswings @almusanzug @feelmyroarrrr @captainradicalpassion @bethbabybaby @thinkwritexpress-official @akshi8278 @hexparker @emoryhemsworth @boxywrites @atc74 @anticipate1003 @super100012 @lovesj2m @easelweasel @masksandtruths @ellen-reincarnated1967 @growningupgeek @there-must-be-a-lock @sylverminx @mrswhozeewhatsis @amanda-teaches @cassieraider @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @its-my-perky-nipples @squirrel-moose-winchester @carryonmyswansong @sandlee44 @paintrider13-blog

#spnmadlibs #trex wrecked me #with this amazing challenge #Sam Fluff #Sam x Reader #Sam Winchester x Reader #Sam Winchester #SPN Fanfic #SPN Fanfiction #Panda Writes #i lost my queue

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4yutaeil · 7 years ago

Text

prince johnny & the mermaid

(its u. ur the mermaid)

ft. some other nct princes & mermen

basically takes place in the same au as mermaid taeyong which if u havent read is here!

so ... ur a mermaid princess from a different kingdom 2 taeyong n the rest of the nct mermaid gang.

& you’re visiting because the Ruler of Ur Kingdom (ur dad) has 2 go for the annual Mermaid Council Meeting and is like “listen you’re the next in line to rule you have to come.. You need to learn what your responsibilities are gonna be”

n you dont rlly wanna go but you’re like FINE whatever.

so you tag along & u dont rlly bother meeting the citizens of the nct kingdom bc you’re gonna be there for like a week tops before u gotta leave again so whats??? the Point.

u basically plan to spend the week in ur Luxurious Clam Shell sleeping.

but you get bored so u decide to swim off towards the castle bc u overheard someone saying how pretty it is so u wanna see for yourself!!!

bc ur kingdom is in the middle of the Ocean so you’ve never actually seen a castle. or Humans rlly.

But you’ve heard about them!

so you’re swimming 2 the castle when u hear someone singing ... and you’re like okay well im the only mermaid here so!! thats gotta be a HUMAN

so u poke ur head out of the water but u dont .... see anyone?

but u recognise the song they’re singing so once they’ve stopped u sing the next part of the song back 2 them ... hiding behind a rock so they dont see u O F C !

you’re not about 2 get urself caught pffff !

& u see a head poke out of one of the windows and ur like TIME TO GO!

but not without gettin a glance of tht incredibly ,,, ,handsome face ,,,

anyways this continues for like ! 3 days. u go to the same spot, hear the same beautiful boy singing & sing back 2 him when he stops .

n he looks out of the window Every! Time! but you’re 2 quick for him 2 see you lol

but then u go back the 4th day ,,, n u hear music but no??? singing??

so u go a little closer n perch yourself on a rock tryin 2 get a closer listen, n u hear the most beautiful melody coming from the same room.

and before u know it you’re humming along.

its not until a little while later tht u realise the music has stopped and ur just going along on ur own and u look up 2 see The Boy(tm)...

in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up n these dorky glasses (Y’all know the look im on abt ..... That Look).

n you’re like .... GOTTA BLAST!!!!!!!! 🐠💨💨💨

n here’s the thing .... prince johnny cannOT stop thinking about u.... nd it was all a ruse !

obviously not in a Bad Way he just wanted 2 find out who was fINISHING HIS SONGS BEFORE HE GOT THE CHANCE

n he didnt.... think you’d be tht beautiful .....

& he spots ur tail as ur escaping and he’s like ... HOLD ON A COTTON PICKIN MINUTE !

lucky for him ... it was Cupcake Collection Day(tm) for his good Mermaid Pal Taeyong

so while taeyong is eating his cupcake .... johnny brings up The Topic

“so uh,,, taeyong,,, u know pretty much everyone in ur kingdom right???”

taeyong with a mouth full of cupcake: i guess

“so uh there’s this.... person .... a merperson, if u will, and u Gotta help me find them”

taeyong: “whats in it for me???”

johnny: “an extra cupcake”

“make it 12″

“6.”

“ok deal”

so johnny tells taeyong abt this mermaid ,,,, a Beautiful mermaid with the most Beautiful voice

“are u sure ur not talking about taeil?”

“shut up im sure”

so taeyong is like kk ill help u lol

“taeyong u cant help him. they have 2 leave in like 2 days” - doyoung

“bUT HE LOVES THEM!!!!” - yuta

“he hasn’t even met them!!!”

“IT'S CALLED LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT!”

“that isnt a thing!”

yuta pulls out a rose & hands it to taeyong “tell them it’s from johnny”

“where did you even get that from?” - taeyong

“he just carries them around. it’s better not to ask” - johnny

MEANWHILE you’re at a Boring Mermaid Council Meeting

“ok listen ,,, we get that ur helping the humans by sabotaging the sirens but ... its gotta stop they’re goin 2 other kingdoms who have Enough Problems”

and that subject peaks ur interest.

these ... mermaids are sabotaging sirens?? Lmao serves them RIGHT !

so after the meeting ,

like, later at night, u hear this off-key singing and you’re like ok what the F

and ofc u gotta check it out because what MerMoron is disgracing ur Entire people like that.

n there u see Merman Moon Taeil, a couple meters behind sirens, hangin out by boats tryin 2 Do Their Thing.

but they can’t because Merman Moon Taeil is singing ,, horribly out of tune and off-key and it Clicks.

this is how they’re saving sailors lol. singing loudly and off-key to drown out the sirens song . its pretty smart.

n this guy looks like he’s havin the Time of his Life, so u swim up behind him n join in.

u 2 are havin a WHALE of a time , singing out of key n just absolutely ruining the sirens favourite pastime

but then u spot one wander off n you’re like ..... well that’s not suspicious AT ALL

so u Follow. and then you see this Lone Guy in a tiny boat and you’re like what kinda DUMBASS

and u poke ur head up to get a look at the idiot that’s on his own & JUST UR LUCK its Cute Castle Guy.

literally ur only thought is “is this boy actually 100% For Real what is he Doing”

and u dont! Have time to start singing off key because he’s pretty much already Hooked on this sirens song so ....

u straight up tackle the thing away from him. No1 is hurting ur Cute Castle Boy with the nice voice. Not on UR Watch .

n ur fightin with this thing for a Good Couple Minutes until it just hisses @ u and goes back 2 its own gang.

“YEAH THATS RIGHT U RUN AWAY !!! n dONT COME BACK!!” - you until u realise u should Probably check to make sure the boat hasnt crashed or something.

He’s a bit dazed n confused and has No Idea what the Heck just happened

and johnny is so pretty u just kinda stare for a while until ur like Right i should probably ,,, like ,, make sure he doesnt Die.

so with all ur Mighty Mermaid Power u push his boat back 2 shore

by which time he’s completely Mostly recovered 2 the point he can recognise u and he’s like

“ITS U!”

to which you, once again, gotta blast 🐠💨💨💨

but he , being Cute Clumsy Castle Idiot tries 2 be all dramatic and grabs ur arm ,

proceeding 2 FALL Out of his boat face first into wet sand with the occasional wave just .... rolling over him .

and you’re like .... really ??? Really now. Really .

*ur longest deepest sigh ever*

“are you ok?”

he holds 1 hand up and does the a-okay sign.

u cover ur mouth so he doesnt hear u LAUGH

he hears it. looks up. gives u that dUMB EMBARRASSED JOHNNY SMILE. (U know the one).

n you BLUSH because he’s so gosh Darn CUTE. even if he is an IDIOT.

“i just wanted 2 make sure u were okay ...” he says in the Sweetest most Caring voice Ever and it makes ur heart melt BEcause .... .

“I COULD HAVE SWAM TO ANOTHER COUNTRY N UR JUST GONNA GRAB MY ARM LIKE THAT U COULD HAVE D I E D!!! I did Not just save u for you to DIE”

that stupid dumb embarrassed johnny smile is STILL THERE and you’re trying to Convince yourself he is Not Cute Enough for ur poor heart 2 be Racing like This.

“whatever ,,,,,,,,, im fine thank you”

but he spots that nasty scratch on ur cheek courtesy of that stupid poor excuse for a sea witch n he .... puts his hand on ur cheek .

and ur brain is Screaming at u GOTTA GO MY OWN WAY but u cant ... bring urself... to leave bc he’s LOOKING at u ,,,,

OH Boy ,,,,

he’s Really ,, Looking at u with those big concerned eyes and ur Poor Heart literally cannot cope like ... his hand is so ,, ,warm and

even though all he’s done is move a piece of ur hair ,,, and tucked it behind ur ear ,,

you’re already feeling a lil bit better.

so instead ur like “pff whatever its just a Scratch” Because You! are One Tough Cookie

adn u dont need this Beefy arm Boy lookin @ u like That.

“it looks really painful!! Wait here we have a first aid kit in the lifeguard hut!”

you go 2 stop him but he’s already up and running so all u can do is like ,, roll ur eyes n Sigh & wait for him to come back

n he does and you’re like “Listen u really don’t need to do this im a mermaid we don’t feel pain.”

he proceeds 2 dab a cotton pad 2 ur cheek & u hiss at him because

“THAT HURTS !!!”

“ok 1. i should have warned u its going to sting and 2. ur a LIAR one of the kennel dogs got overhyped & scratched doyoung by accident. he cried like a baby”

you laugh n johnny thinks ,, its the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

like he’s got 1 hand by ur cheek trying to clean ur battle wound but he’s just sO ,,, entranced by your laugh that he just , forgets what it was he was doing.

“hey bud are you ok?”

“YES! Yes , ,i am sorry i was just ,, where was I.”

he’s LOOKING at u again and like , you’re honestly Just as lost as he is because ,,

up close u can finally see his eyes and they are just. so pretty are humans Supposed ??? To be This Pretty?

& suddenly u realise Why humans make statues & paintings of Other Humans because like, wow they’re So Beautiful.

is there a statue of this breathtaking boy sat in front of you out there somewhere? There should be.

he clears his throat eventually and runs his hand thru his hair n does a little embarrassed laugh ,

“by the way um ,, did you get that rose ? From taeyong?”

and you’re like “uhhh,, the what from who now?”

n he hits himself mentally bc DUH Doyoung said u were from another kingdom so like , maybe u never met them he doesn’t know so he’s just like “nevermind!!”

and that’s when it hits u... You don’t even know Cute Castle Boy’s NAME.

BUT youre leaving soon so u figure it doesnt matter anyways :(

so you’re like uhhh i should ,,, go. thank u for ,,, this.

n he’s like !! wait idk ur name!!!!!

so you tell him,, n he repeats it & like

youve had Literal Ocean Royalty sing ur name to get ur attention but.

it doesnt even COMPARE to the way he says it.

and u tell urself that it doesnt matter. u need to Stop bc you are leaving there is Nothing u can do about it

and he’s about to tell you his name but. it’s just Better for u that you Dont know it and he stays as Cute Castle Guy

so before u can even hear him say his own name You Are Outta There bc!

no! attachments!

esp not to humans!

and johnny ,,,

poor sweet johnny is just.dumbfounded and lost bc?

what. Just happened.

the next day ,, Johnny plays his piano hoping that you’ll pop up and sing along to his playing, and when he realises that like,, you’re not gonna show up he just . his hands slump against the keys n he’s just ?

what did he do Wrong?

eventually he has to meet taeyong 2 give him the cupcakes even though taeyong was No Help at All

and johnny ends up eating most of them himself and taeyong is like ok buddy spill the beans whats wrong

so johnny tells him abt you ,,, and that he Finally met u and you Saved Him! but u left before he could tell you his name n you didn’t show up to sing today and

taeyong feels a lil guilty but He knows there’s not much he can do because like , you’re from a different kingdom ? Ur literally the future ruler ,, so he can’t try 2 convince u to stay.

BUT You’re not actually Leaving until tomorrow so Maybe. he can convince u to see johnny before u go.

so he’s like “leave it to me!!!” and finishes his cupcake before zooming off to find you.

but he has 2 find doyoung & taeil first because they need to come up with a Plan

& they find u sitting pretty in ur little Clam Shell just ... looking Very? Confused and

suddenly the big Plan is out of the window because doyoung swims straight up to you, looks you in the eye and says, “our human friend is a Mess.”

and you’re like ?? Who even Are you but then u recognise taeil behind him who’s waving at you and you’re like oh ok one of his weird friends.

and you’re like “anyways idk who you’re talking about”

“our FRIEND. u saved him last night ! His name is-”

“DONT SAY IT I dont need 2 know his name!!!”

and doyoung is getting a liiiiiittle annoyed because like, despite everything johnny is his FRIEND and he wants him 2 be happy!! so he just backs off and taeyong takes his place like ,

“listen. we’ve known him for a while now & he’s never talked about any1 like this before. n we know you’re leaving but he would rlly love to get the chance to talk 2 u.”

and now you’re more confused than ever!! Because you’re leaving Really Soon and you don’t! need this!

but he’s so cute ,,, and seeing that dumb smile of his one last time wouldn’t hurt, , right?

“ok fine tell him. i’ll be sittin on the rock by his window tomorrow at dawn, before i leave.”

the 3 boys high five n taeyong secretly wonders if he’ll get more cupcakes for this.

The Next Morning at like ? 6am. you’re nervous as Hell.

you really shouldn’t be doing this because its just going to make things worse for you And for him.

but you’ll probably never see him again ? So, just 2 yknow, say it was nice to meet him and goodbye, u show up.

Also maybe get a cupcake ? because taeyong literally would not shut up about them and now you really want to try one.

you show up. and johnny is already there , holding a rose

(a nice one. not a fake one like the ones yuta carries around)

and he looks Super nervous and you’re also Really nervous but.

you swim up to him anyway and poke his arm.

which makes him jump

and that embarrassed smile comes out again and you can literally feel your heart melting because god he is Adorable.

and you’re starting to think this was a Really Bad Idea.

but he looks at you and he hands you the rose, and you’re about to speak when he stops you,

“I just. Wanted to say thank you for saving me. And the guys told me you’re leaving and that really sucks but I’m really happy you decided to see me again.”

and you just. for once in your life you’re speechless and you just stare at the rose he gave you and. eventually you just manage to stutter out a “you’re welcome” and

you two are just staring at each other for what feels like Hours. and you’re pretty sure you could do it for a lot longer because he’s just so nice to look at.

but before you know it, doyoung & taeil are behind you, and they’re like, “you gotta go, your dad is waiting for you.”

and it feels like your heart is breaking because ! you dont wanna go! you wanna stay and you want to get to know Cute Castle Boy.

but you have a kingdom to rule over in the future.

so you try not to look too sad as u look at johnny and give him a smile,

and he cups ur cheek the same way he did the night before ,and he’s pulling you closer and before you know it his lips are on your cheek

and you’re Blushing like Crazy! !!!! because oh my god he just kissed you.

he finally moves his hand from your cheek 2 your hands,

“my name is Johnny, by the way”

Fuck.

you cant really do or say anything because you gotta leave Now.

so you look back one last time before joining the boys and give him a little wave, and he waves back before watching you swim away.

So, here’s the thing.

When you were a baby, a tiny little adventurous mermaid swimming along dolphins three times your size,

you had accidentally gotten a little carried away and wandered outside of your kingdom barriers,

lost and confused, you found a light which you followed into a cave,

and there you met ur friendly neighbourhood sea witch.

she hadn’t really been banished from your kingdom, mostly because she knew she wasn’t welcome so she just kept to herself.

but she thought, hey! if i help the ruler’s kid get back to the kingdom, maybe they’ll realise im Not So Bad and accept me.

so she takes you in, makes sure you’re safe, and helps you find your way back .

UR FATHER, however, freaks the hell out and starts going off about how,

“This wicked sea witch tried to KIDNAP my child! How dare you! You are Banished”

so , the sea witch does what literally Every Other Disney Villain would do.

she puts a curse on you before the king tosses her out on her ass.

This curse, however.

when you fall in love, you’ll turn into a human so you can’t Be with them. (because yknow everyone thought you’d fall in love with some Beautiful Mermaid Royalty)

so while you’re swimming home,

taeil, doyoung and taeyong volunteering to be your escorts, making sure u get home safe and sound.

(you didnt really need them but those boys are Stubborn and also wanted 2 see what your kingdom looks like)

but because they’re there you don’t really need to stay with ur dad; you’re old enough & ugly enough 2 take care of yourself and show your friends your favourite parts of the journey back

but suddenly you’re finding it really hard to breathe and swimming is Really difficult

and something is Horribly, horribly wrong.

so you grab whatever you can which happens to be doyoung’s tail

and he turns around like what the Hell.

Oh, shit.

he’s yelling for the other boys 2 help you and ur dad is too far ahead to hear whatever is going on.

so the boys take it upon themselves 2 save U.

and they’re swimming back to the beach as fast as they can and they get to shore and luckily!

Johnny is sitting there, looking out at the ocean wondering if he’ll ever see you again.

and doyoung is just Yelling at him

“DO U HAVE TOWELS GET SOME TOWELS DO U KNOW CPR!!!!!!!!!!”

so johnny has no idea what the Heck is going on but he runs to get towels, helps the boys wrap you up and take you to the lifeguard hut

where johnny puts u on the sofa and he’s like , desperately trying 2 get u to wake up. doing cpr and whatever else he can .

like he has no idea whats going on but you’re here and you’re not breathing and he’s panicking because like, he can’t lose you??? He can’t. He Wont.

and its been what seems like fOREVER but you’re finally! coughing up water and you can breathe again and you’re feeling Very lightheaded and dizzy but all you can really think about is.

that Johnny’s face is hovering over yours and he looks like he’s about to throw up but then he sees your eyes open and he has Never

felt this much relief in his Life!

and before you can even Process what the hell is going on, he’s leaning in closer and you’re kind of trying to figure out what’s going on but!

he already has his arms wrapped around you so tight, never ever wanting to let go because

he could live with himself knowing you were out there, alive with the slightest chance of coming back to visit him

but he would never be able to bear it if you were gone forever .

so he just keeps you in his arms for a Very Long time, whispering in ur ear how scared he was, that he thought he’d lost you.

the other boys have left u alone, yuta and doyoung arguing outside

“i TOLD U love at first sight was real!”

“shut up yuta they almost DIED”

“he saved them! he saved them with true loves first kiss”

“he literally gave them cpr”

but ignoring those 2 bickering.

u and Johnny are just. holding each other and. you can’t explain it but it feels Right that you’re with him

and he is just so happy that you’re alive and okay.

and everything just feels like it’s falling into place.

and before anything else happens you’re just . kissing him .

and he’s kissing you back.

and it all just feels so Perfect.

#nct scenario #nct scenarios #johnny scenario #johnny scenarios #johnny seo #IF U HAVE EVER FELT PERSONALLY VICTIMISED BY JOHNNY SEO RAISE UR HAND #🙋🙋🙋🙋🙋#ro writes #fOR THE SECOND TIME !#who knew this wld come before the second part of whatever i was doing before #i personally blame abbie for this #even though i think i was the one who brought it up #aNYWAYS

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toddsfall · 8 years ago

Text

I didn’t just come here to dance

written for day 3 of @nurseyweek (prompt: challenge)

aka the nurseydex ballet!au no one asked for (read on AO3)

////

‘You did that on purpose!’ Will glared at Derek, rubbing his back.

‘Chill, dude. I obviously underestimated how much room I’d need.’ Derek answered, shrugging. He tried to at least look apologetic. He knew he was failing.

‘You know I wasn’t trying to hit you with my tendu, bro.’

‘Oh my god, you are such a jock.’ Lardo joked, trying to defuse the situation.

‘Don’t “chill” me Nurse! That’s the third time this lesson alone that you’ve “accidentally” hit me with one of your stupidly long limbs!’ Will’s hand gestures got wider as he started waving his arms around to get his point across.

‘Okay, first off chill with the air quotes dude, this isn’t 2006. Second, if you don’t stop waving your arms, you’re going to poke someone’s eyes out.’

‘Chill?! What did I just say Nurse. What did I just say?’ As Will got steadily redder and redder, Lardo broke them up.

‘Alright children, time out.’ She sighed.

‘Boys! If you don’t stop interrupting my lesson, I’ll send you to the dressing room, you hear? You pay for dance classes, not to stand around gabbling like chickens.’ Their dance instructor was looking at them sternly. Eric ‘Bitty’ Bittle was their tiny Southern ballet teacher. His description made him sound a lot less intimidating than he was in reality.

They both nodded and Derek moved to Lardo’s other side to avoid further conflict. He saw a few of the girls in the class rolling their eyes. He didn’t blame them. This happened way too often.

He wish he knew how to not anger Will so much. No, that was a lie. He wish he knew how to not anger him and enjoy it so much.

They finish the rest of the dance class without any further altercations. The only way Derek knew Will was still mad at him was by the way he kept shooting him murderous glares. And he was pretty sure he saw him chuckle a little when they were doing grand pliés and Derek fell on his ass.

By the time they entered the dressing room, neither boy felt much like talking. They finished changing and Will left without a word. Nursey sighed and picked up his bag. No matter how fun dance class was, fighting with Will always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

/////

Derek startled when he pushed open the door to the dressing room. For the past few weeks, he’d been changing alone because he was the only boy in his class. Now, he saw muscles move under the freckliest skin he’d ever seen. The back had two broad shoulders and smooth white skin that looked like someone had splattered paint all over it.

The back belonged to a redhead, who was now frowning as he looked over his shoulder at Derek. ‘Will you close the door, you’re letting cold air in.’

‘Oh, sorry dude. My B.’ He stumbled a little over his own bag as he tried to hastily shut the door.

The redhead snorted. ‘Did you just say “my B”? Whatever. Never mind. I’m Will.’ His arm moved as if he was going to offer his hand to shake, but decided against it at the last second.

‘Hi Will, I’m Derek.’ He put his hand up for a fist bump.

‘Uh. Hey.’ After a few awkward seconds, Will moved to bump his fist. ‘I’m glad I’m not the only boy here, I was kind of scared it was going to be just me and a bunch of girls. I’m actually here on a dare, I lost a bet. My colleagues challenged me to take this class. They think I’m just some stuck up guy who would never take such a girly class-.’

‘Couldn’t handle being alone with girls, huh?’ Nursey smirked as he interrupted the other boy’s rambling.

‘What? No.’ Will blushed. ‘Just uhm, well you know what they say about ballet dancers.’

‘I don’t know actually. Besides, our instructor is a man so.’ Derek felt himself get irritated now. He held his breath for a few seconds as he watched Will try to climb himself out of the hole he just dug himself in.

‘Oh well, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean – well –‘ He struggled to find words.

‘Okay man, well, I’ll let you think on that one some more. See you in a minute.’ Derek finished changing and stood up. He threw Will a look and left. Maybe he banged the door a little harder than necessary, but he had rightful indignation to back him up.

They spent the entire hour of the lesson bickering as Lardo looked on in despair.

Afterwards, she took Derek aside. ‘Derek Malik Nurse, I didn’t drag you to this class with me just to watch you bicker with the first boy you find.’

‘It’s not my fault! He started it, chill.’ That last part was more directed at himself than her.

Lardo threw him that look that she usually only saved when he came home and told her about yet another unattainable crush. The one that said ‘get your shit together, Derek’. He hated that look, but he also needed it in his life. ‘Let’s go home, nerd. We still have some episodes left in our Gilmore Girls re-watch.’

‘Yeah, let’s see if Shitty wants to join us.’ Nursey felt his mood lift. Who cared if the new boy annoyed him? He had his friends. Will could do whatever he wanted for all he cared.

/////

‘And jump and jump and jump’ Bitty clapped his hands in a tempo that could only be described as sadistic. Nursey felt like his sweat was sweating.

‘Alright class, good job today. See y’all next week! Don’t forget, I’m doing a bake sale on Saturday right here at the studio if anyone’s interested. We’re raising money for some new barres, Lord knows we need them.’ They all laughed and clapped as they trickled out of the room.

A big blond man stood in the halfway yelling at everyone. ‘Get your asses out here on Saturday! Do it for Bitty! That fine piece of Georgian ass deserves to display his glutes with the best equipment available. We didn’t do all those squats for nothing, huh Bits?’

‘That’s right Holster. Bitty smiled and winked. ‘Now move, you big lug. You’re holding up my dancers! If you don’t let us through, we can’t clear the room for your littles to dance.’

‘No problem, brah.’ Adam moved to let them all through, occasionally high-fiving or fist-bumping people he recognized. ‘You seen Justin?’

‘You two can’t spend two minutes apart. It’s sweet.’ Bitty grinned. ‘Yeah I’ve seen him. He said he was going to the Kundalini Yoga class next door.’

Nursey chuckled, the past few months these guys at the studio had really grown on him. They were all starting to hang out together too. He turned to Lardo. ‘Hey Lards, thanks for letting me tag along to this class. I feel comfortable here.’

‘Feeling sappy today, Nursey? Go change. Shitty and I have a date tonight and if you’re late, I’m leaving your ass behind.’ Lardo chirped him, but she squeezed his arm so he knew she was joking.

He walked in the locker room to find Will still there.

‘So, you’re going to the bake sale?’ Will asked.

‘Yeah, I want to support Bitty. I take it bake sales are not your speed?’ He felt tired, those jumps had really taken it out of him. He really didn’t have the energy to start a fight with Will right now.

‘I’m actually going to bring some cookies for Bitty to sell.’ Will raised his eyebrows.

‘Oh, cool man. I, uh, didn’t know you baked.’ Derek said. He felt a bit embarrassed. What did people always say about assuming?

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Derek.’ He smirked and bumped his shoulder against Derek’s.

‘Nursey. Uhm. My friends calls me Nursey. I had some hockey friends in college’ He bumped his shoulder back.

‘I’m your friend now? That’s nice.’ Will smiled at him and Nursey had never seen him like that. Happiness looked good on him.

When Will left the room Nursey called out ‘See you on Saturday!’ and he felt a warm feeling in his gut.

/////

By the time the bake sale had ended, there were only a few dancers left in the studio. They were all hanging around the table Bitty had set up. Holster had produced a bottle of vodka about twenty minutes ago, and now they were all taking turns adding some in their little plastic cups.

‘Thank y’all so much for coming. It really means so much to me. I… uh.. didn’t grow up with this much support in Georgia. Growing up a gay ice skater wasn’t exactly a piece of cake.’ He took a second to chuckle at his own joke. ‘Oh gosh y’all, I remember when I first came out here for college. I couldn’t be happier with my life right now. I get to teach you wonderful people every day. Plus, I’m talking with a nutritionist friend of mine at the Providence Falconers who might have an in for me to teach a class or two to some of the players. They could work on their flexibility.’ His eyes looked a bit blurry.

‘Alright Bits, that was a wonderful speech. Maybe you should stay off my vodka for now, okay?’ Holster moved to put his arm around Bitty’s shoulders. ‘We’re glad to have you here little buddy.’

Justin, Adam’s boyfriend, chimed in ‘While we’re reminiscing, I still remember when I met you Bits. Never been so glad that I decided to be a biology tutor.’ With a sniff he added ‘Tragically, I was already taken when this cute little Georgian stepped into my life’.

Holster protested. ‘Babe! I’m right here.’ But he was smiling.

Nursey took it all in. He knew all this already, from hanging with the instructors after class. But it was still nice listening to their easy banter.

‘You friend isn’t here?’ He looked up as Will approached.

‘Nah, Lardo has an art project she needs to finish tonight. Our entire apartment has been taken over by papier-mâché hockey players. Don’t ask.’ Nursey answered.

Will laughed, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Nursey couldn’t help but think it was beautiful.

‘So, what about you man? I know the story of just about everyone here, but not yours.’

‘My story isn’t that interesting.’ Will looked down at the floor.

‘I’d still like to hear it. C’mon man, I’m an aspiring writer. Stories are my jam.’ He clapped Will on the shoulder and tried to look encouraging.

Will nodded and settled next to Nursey, who was sitting against one of the mirrors. ‘Well, when I was 18, I moved out to Providence with my older brother for a job. The work was alright, we worked for a construction company. When my brother decided to stay here – he had met a girl in an instrument shop he liked to snoop around in – I stayed with him.’

He paused for a second to catch his breath. It was the longest Nursey had ever heard Will talk. He had a nice talking voice. Nursey wondered if it would be rude to close his eyes while he listened.

‘I had to find a job, of course. The construction job was alright but not something I want to do for the rest of my life. I’m still trying to figure all that out, you know?’ Nursey nodded, even though he didn’t know. He’d never had to think too hard about which job he wanted. He fell in love with writing when he was 14 and he hadn’t looked back since.

‘Anyway, I tried out a couple of things but right now I’m working as a musical instrument repairman slash builder. Well, apprentice. Harry, my boss says that stuff takes years and years to learn. But I’ve always been good with my hands.’

Nursey’s entire body felt warm suddenly when Will said that last part. The vodka must have been stronger than he thought.

‘And that’s how I ended up here. I lost a bet with my co-workers and they dared me to take a ballet class.’ He snorted loudly. ‘They really thought they’d done me with that one. You know they actually paid for my classes? Well joke’s on them, I’m really enjoying it!’ He finished with a chuckle.

Nursey smiled at him. ‘Well, I’m glad too, man. Doesn’t matter how you got here.’ He looked at Will intently ‘I know we don’t always get along but –‘. He didn’t really know how to finish that sentence.

‘Yeah. Me too.’ Will said.

Nursey didn’t really know what he meant, but it didn’t matter. He pressed his shoulder closer to Will and they watched the others laugh and tell stories.

/////

The next week, Will wasn’t in class. Nursey felt a twinge of disappointment, even though it meant that he got through the lesson without pissing anyone off.

When he still wasn’t there the next week, Nursey started to worry. He decided to speak to Bitty after class. ‘Hey Eric, can I ask you a question?’ He didn’t know why he didn’t just call him Bitty. Nerves always made him more formal.

‘Sure, hon. What’s up?’ Bitty gestured encouragingly.

‘Have you heard from Will lately? I haven’t seen him in two weeks and I’m getting a bit worried.’

‘Do you want me to give him a call? It would be a tad unethical for me to give out his number without his permission.’ Bitty started looking through his books, which were – as always – a mess.

‘Thank Bits, I really appreciate it.’

After a few minutes, he heard Bitty mutter a quiet ‘Aha!’. ‘Okay, let’s see. William Poindexter. Let’s give him a ring, shall we?’

Nursey fought the urge to bite his nails. It was a disgusting habit that he’d quit years ago.

‘Hello Will? It’s Bitty here. Just calling you up to make sure you’re alright, no one has heard for you in a few weeks. Hmm? Yes. Alright, oh I’m sorry hon.’

Nursey wanted to rip the phone out of Bitty’s hands, an irrational desire that he made sure to repress. He was sure Will was alright, and Bitty was going to tell him what was up in just a min-

‘Oh haha, yes you’re right. He’s right here actually, you want to talk to him?’

Nursey startled. What was happening. Before he could react though, Bitty was pressing the phone in his hands.

‘Hey Nursey. Heard you were worried about me’ Will teased him.

Nursey sighed in relief. He sounded fine. ‘Yeah well, someone has got to make sure you’re still breathing loser.’

‘I’m fine dork, I’ve just had the flu and I didn’t want to give it to you guys.’ He heard Will smile through the phone and Nursey felt the corners of his own mouth turn up.

‘Okay. Great. See you in class next week then?’ He tried not to sound too eager.

‘See you then, Nursey. Oh, and I asked Bitty to give you my number, so you won’t have to bother him the next time you get worried about me.’ He laughed merrily, as if Nursey’s worry was giving him glee.

Nursey didn’t say anything to Lardo as he finally got to her car, but he could tell that she was giving him the look again.

/////

‘This is Derek, I’m not here right now. Leave a message if you want, it’s chill. Beep.’

‘Hey Nursey, Will here. I begged your number off Bitty, hope you don’t mind. I’m guessing you won’t, since I already gave you mine but you never know. Haha. Uhm. Well. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be in class again. Nothing bad, don’t worry! I’m just picking up an extra shift on Tuesday at Harry’s Music Store, kind of a lame name for an instrument store right? Hah, well. Okay. That’s what I wanted to say I guess. Have fun in class, try not to fall on your ass too hard without me there.’ Click.

/////

The shop bell jingled as he opened the door. Everywhere he looked, there were instruments. There were a lot of guitars, but also violins, cellos, trumpets, clarinets, flutes, keyboards and a drum set. Nursey was immediately transported back to his youth.

‘Can I help you?’ A pretty girl appeared behind the drum display.

‘Hi, I’m looking for Will? I’m Derek, a friend from his dance class.’ Nursey fidgeted with his sleeves, suddenly nervous.

‘Ah, yes. William’s mentioned you. I’ll go get him, he’s fixing something in the back.’ She gave him a once-over before she turned again and disappeared.

Nursey’s heart was racing. Will hadn’t exactly invited him to his place of work. What if he thought it was creepy that he had just shown up out of the blue? Before his thoughts could start spiraling, Will appeared from the same place the pretty girl had disappeared.

‘Uh. Hi Nursey, what’s up?’ Will looked confused, but exactly unhappy to see him. Nursey would take it.

‘Hey Will. Am I bothering you? I can come back another time if you want.’

The silence between them stretched out just a second too long for comfort. Nursey’s shoulders sagged. He started to turn away, but Will cleared his throat.

‘No. Uhm. This is fine. I’m glad you came.’ Will had stretched his arm out, as if he was going to grab Nursey before he could leave.

‘It’s just, uhm. I missed you in class man.’ The English language had never failed Nursey this hard in his entire life.

Will smiled and stepped a little closer. ‘Yeah? I’ve missed you guys too. I’ve missed you too.’

Nursey felt the room grow smaller, the closer Will came to him. With a herculean effort, he unfroze his limbs and took a few steps closer as well. Soon they were almost toe to toe.

‘Care to show me how much you’ve missed me?’ Nursey asked.

‘Is that a dare Derek?’ Will smirked. Nursey wanted to kiss it off his face.

‘Well, it seemed to have worked out for you in the past.’ He tore his gaze away from his lips to look Will in the eyes.

‘Yeah, it seems that way.’ Will chirped as he grabbed Nursey’s hand.

Before either of them could say another word, Will used his other hand to stroke Nursey’s cheek once before leaning in to kiss him. It was short and sweet, in direct contrast to the way they usually interacted. Nursey didn’t mind it one bit.

His brain hadn’t even caught up with his body yet, before Will moved his hands in his hair to kiss him even deeper. Nursey moaned and grabbed Will closer. They kissed until they were both out of breath. In that moment, their thoughts were perfectly in synch.

You’re a challenge worth taking on.

#nurseyweek #nursey week #nurseydex #derek nurse #william poindexter #omgcp #sarahsfic #finally finished it sorry for any mistakes #I hope someone reads this

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