#braiding my hair before school just to pin and tuck almost all of it into a fucking beanie for Definitely Normal Cis Girl Reasons

[silverislander]

i know everyone in history has had this experience but do i really have to remember the outfits i was wearing in jr high for the rest of my life. what part of my head do i have to hit so i can forget those

[punkrockmads]

Found Family

Abby x F! Reader Mini Series

Warnings: Small bit of angst, violence, this chapter is a little bit longer

Chapter Four; Light Of Our Lives

*A MONTH LATER*

Abby has been such a joy to have in my life. I've moved out of the guest room and into Abby's bedroom, the two of us rapidly growing closer over the past month. We've had a couple little bickering matches over whether I should be doing patrol at three months pregnant, but that's to be expected for any couple worried for their baby. She's been a huge help with the baby, always staying by my side during my bouts of morning sickness and my occasional nightmares. We still haven't told Lev, waiting for my baby bump to get a little bigger before telling him. Lev is such a sweet kid, always energetic and happy. He and Abby are always jabbing at each other with their sarcasm and jokes. I sometimes cut in with my own teasing remarks, usually teaming up with Lev to harass Abby. The other day, Lev and I got up early just to sneak downstairs and hit Abby with pillows while she was cooking. Scrambled eggs ended up all over the floor and she made us clean it up but we all thought it was hilarious.

I sit behind Abby on our bed, braiding her soft blonde hair back as she talks.

"So we fell like a thousand feet through a glass ceiling and into a fucking swimming pool." Abby chuckles, telling me the story of the sky bridges for the twentieth time. It's one of my favorites, I'm always asking her to tell it.

"It was not a thousand feet!" Lev yells from his bedroom across the hall. Abby and I burst into a fit of laughter. "It was like ten!"

"Okay well it FELT like a thousand!" Abby yells back between laughs. "Anyways." She sighs, feeling my fingertips brush the back of her neck lightly as I continue to braid her hair. "I crawl out of the pool and lay there sprawled out on my back and Lev looks at me like I'm crazy! He's just up and ready to keep moving as if we didn't just almost die!" The two of us laugh as I use a hair tie to hold the ends of her braid together. I lean forward, placing a kiss on the back of her neck.

"All done." I mumble against her freckled skin. Abby turns around, pressing a sweet kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks, babe." Abby smiles. "You ready to head out?" Abby and I have early patrol this morning. It's rare we get assigned together since Abby is much stronger so she's usually doing assignments that put her muscles to use. Things like helping out with construction, moving heavy equipment, sometimes even helping people move furniture in and out of homes. When Abby does go outside of the base, it's for a supply run that's in a more dangerous area. That part always scares me, knowing they intentionally send her places with unknown numbers of infected. I know why they do it, though. She's more than capable of protecting herself and her group.

"Yeah." I nod. "Just gotta get my boots on." I stand up, getting ready to leave the room when Abby grabs my wrist.

"Uh, babe?" I look back at her, confused. "What's goin' on with your buttons there?" She asks, referring to my black button-up shirt. I look down, noticing two of the top buttons were missing.

"Oh!" I laugh. "So THIS is the shirt with the missing buttons!" I shrug, searching through the clothes in our closet. I find a grey sleeveless shirt hanging up on Abby's side of the closet. I glance back, seeing her making the bed. I take off my button-up, letting it fall to the floor as I take the sleeveless shirt off of its hanger and pull it on. It's a little too big, but I tuck it into my jeans and it fits a lot better. I pick up the button-up, spinning around and tossing it at Abby. It hits her in the face.

"Hey!" Abby looks over at me with a playful glare before freezing. She points at me. "Is- is that my shirt?"

"Perhaps." I grin, doing a little pose with my hands on my hips. "New fashion statement?" I chuckle. Abby walks over to me, putting her hands on my hips. She pecks my lips lightly. I place my hands over hers.

"You're such a dork." She smiles. "C'mon. We gotta get going."

"Alriiiight." I groan. Abby grabs my hand, pulling me into the hall. "Lev, don't be late for school!" I yell from the stairs.

"I'm never late!" Lev yells back.

"Literally last week!" Abby reminds him.

"Fuck you!" Lev replies as Abby and I laugh. I kneel down by the door, putting my brown leather boots on and tying the laces. Abby watches with a playful smile. I grab my dark blue backpack and bow before looking up at her.

"What?" I question, standing back up.

"Nothing." Abby shrugs. She puts a hand on my stomach. "Pretty soon you won't even be able to tie your own shoes."

"Six more months!" I sigh. "And then this little bean will be the reason we don't get a good night's sleep for years."

"I can't wait." Abby chuckles, following me out the front door. The two of us head to the main gate, spotting a few people waiting around talking with each other. "Get us signed out?" Abby asks.

"If you grab us lunch." I reply,

"Deal." Abby agrees. She lets go of my hand, walking off to the right while I continue forward to the booth. A woman with long red hair and blue eyes looks up at me.

"Oh, hey Y/N!" She greets, setting down the clipboard she was holding. "How're you doing?"

"Hey, Kayla." I smile. "I'm doing pretty great! They've got you workin' at the booth instead of the farm?" I pick up the clipboard and pen, signing my name and Abby's on the sign out sheet.

"Yep." Kayla tsks. "Shawn's sick today so I said I'd fill in. Nice break from being covered in dirt all day."

"And the booth is always shady." I shrug. "I'd say Shawn's got us beat!"

"Got that right." Kayla laughs. I jump when I feel a hand on my lower back. Kayla laughs harder. I don't even have to turn around to know who the culprit is. "Hey, Abby!" Kayla greets.

"Hey there." Abby replies, looking at me with a mischievous grin. "I'd love to stay and talk but the rest of our group is here. We gotta head out." I reach up to fix a loose strand of Abby's hair that's fallen in front of her face. She's a couple inches taller than me so I stand on my toes to make to easier.

"Be safe out there, you two!" Kayla calls as I follow Abby toward the group.

"Will do!" Abby turns around to wave back. The two of us join the rest of the group, piling into the back of a military truck and heading out to the first checkpoint where we'll all split into pairs and take separate routes.

Ten minutes later, we get to the first checkpoint, an old bar. I hop out of the truck, Abby following close behind. We get inside, everyone double checking their gear and partnering up.

"Okay." I sigh, everyone looking to me for instructions. I'm not exactly sure why, but Abby says I'm a natural born leader and that they trust my judgement. I had taken on the role as unofficial team leader without even realizing till she had pointed it out to me a few weeks ago. "Our team's covering the north routes today. The northeast route's been a little more active lately so I want four people to take that one just in case things get hairy. Any volunteers?"

"Mike and I can do it." A woman with brown hair says.

I nod. "Alright. Who's going with Mike and Bonnie?"

"We are." A man in the back says, gesturing to him and his partner.

"Okay, Mike, Bonnie, Chris, and Eric on northeast. Hayley, I want you and Moira to take north, okay?" Moira nods and Hayley holds a thumbs up. "Abby and I will take northwest. Be safe out there, guys. Be smart." With that, we all head off on our routes. Abby follows me, making sure to keep an eye on the treeline. The woods around us are full of life. Birds, deer, squirrels, insects... they all create a beautiful melody; the song of nature.

"Y'know..." Abby starts, pulling me out of my thoughts. "It's pretty hot watching you boss people around."

I scoff, kicking the dirt on the path as I walk. "I don't boss anyone around!"

Abby walks beside me, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "You so do!"

"Shut up!" I shove her playfully. She laughs, lightly shoving me back.

"You love me." She hums, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles lightly.

"I do." I hum back. We walk for a bit longer before we reach the first lookout, a gas station attached to a mechanic's garage. We sit and talk for a few minutes, writing in the sign in notebook that there were no signs of infected. After dawdling long enough, the two of us make our way to the second lookout. Ten minutes into our journey, I spot something moving in the trees.

"To our right." I whisper, both Abby and I ducking behind a bush and aiming our guns toward the movement. Just as I'm about to move up closer to try and get an angle, I hear maniacal screaming. I spin around to see a runner charging at me. I have no time to react as I'm shoved violently to the ground with the runner pinning me down, using all of my strength to keep the runner from biting me.

"Y/N!!" Abby screams. Before she can shoot the runner, a second one comes out from the trees. Abby quickly shoots that one before rushing back to my side and ripping the runner off of me. "You motherfucker!" She growls, slamming the runner to the ground and crushing his skull with her boot, the blood splattering on her and me. I lay there frozen, feeling like the wind got knocked out of me. "Shit!" Abby whisper yells. She kneels down beside me as I gasp for air. "Are you okay? Did it bite you?" She's panicking, frantically searching for any sign of injury. I grab her forearms, keeping her from moving them.

"I'm okay, Abby." I assure her when I catch my breath. "I'm okay." Abby grabs my shoulders, helping me sit up.

"Oh shit, your head is bleeding." Abby says, seeing the blood drip down the back of my neck. I feel the warm, sticky crimson flow down the back of my shirt. "We gotta get you back."

"The baby." I whisper, feeling lightheaded as Abby hands me her bag and gets in front of me, helping me onto her back. "We gotta check on the baby."

"We will, sweet girl." Abby says, walking as fast as she can while I cling to her like a little backpack. "Just hang on." I rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes as she carries me all the way back to the checkpoint. From there, she uses the radio to call an emergency pickup. She leaves a note for the rest of the team before helping me into the car and telling the driver to get us back as fast as possible. The car ride is a blur. I lean against Abby while she presses her jacket against the back of my head to keep me from bleeding out. I keep my hand on my stomach the whole time. Finally, we get to the infirmary. A nurse cleans me up and stitches the back of my head, giving me water and crackers to help with the dizziness. When I tell her I'm pregnant, she immediately understands my concern and checks the baby's vitals and preps me for an ultrasound.

"Ultrasound?" I ask as the nurse moves the hem of my shirt up to the edge of my bra, exposing my tiny bump. I've never heard anything like that before.

Abby takes my left hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. "It's kinda like a camera." She explains. "It's so they can see the baby. I read about it in a book." As I'm looking at her, I feel something cold and sticky being rubbed lightly on my stomach. I flinch, looking back at the nurse who is applying a clear jelly-like liquid to my stomach. Abby immediately senses my panic, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. The bed creaks beneath her as she moves. "It's okay." She mumbles against my temple. "It's just to help the camera." I take a deep breath, sighing as I nod, letting Abby know I'm okay. I peck her lips lightly before she sits back up.

"You two make a cute couple." The nurse says, reaching for what I assume is the camera. Abby thanks her as I laugh a little. "You ready to see your baby?" I nod eagerly, Abby doing the same. The nurse presses the camera against my stomach lightly, moving it around as what looks like static appears on the camera. "There." She says finally, holding the camera in one spot. "See that little blob that's kinda shaped like a bean? That's your baby." I gasp, suddenly feeling tears running down my cheeks.

"Abby." I whisper, staring at the little being on the monitor. "Are you seeing this?" I hear Abby sniffle, looking up to see her crying, too.

"That's our baby, honey." She sniffs. I take her other hand in mine, squeezing both of them. "That's our tiny human in there." She's just as amazed as I am.

"It's perfect." I say, laughing a bit at our reactions. The nurse simply gives a proud smile.

"The baby's perfectly healthy, no sign of injuries." The nurse says. Abby and I feel immediate relief. "If you want, I can print out a picture of it for you. This old equipment still works pretty well.

"Absolutely!" Abby says, barely waiting for the nurse to finish her sentence. The nurse cleans off the gel, prints out a photo of our baby, and hands it to me before Abby and I head out to go home. The entire walk home is spent gushing over the photo, feeling like a warm, beautiful light is shining down upon us. When the two of us get home, Abby closes the door before grabbing my face and kissing me hard. My hands instinctively move to her cheeks, my eyes closing as I feel Abby's lips on mine, curving into a smile. She pulls away, leaving me breathless. "You are incredible." She says, only loud enough for me to hear. She strokes my cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. "I love you... so fucking much."

"I love you too." I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. She kisses me again, this time gently, as if I might break if she kisses too hard. She pulls away after a few seconds, taking my hand and guiding me into the living room. I sit beside her on the couch, my legs resting across her lap and my body leaning into hers. We sit there in peaceful silence, Abby and I staring at the photo of our baby while she rubs gentle circles on my stomach with her warm hand. Just as I'm about to fall asleep, the front door opens.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Fred with a Malfoy reader:

Warnings: Angst, kind of sad, nsfw thoughts, set in a non voldemort world

Note: I KEEP THINKING OF FRED. HELP. ME.I’VE FALLEN DOWN A RABBIT HOLE AND I CAN’T GET UP

You were Draco's older sister

And already the family disappointment.

Do you know why?

Because you're the one Malfoy who isn't Slytherin

You're actually a hufflepuff.

Lucius clearly favors Draco and it gets to you sometimes.

You're very protective over your brother.

You constantly butt heads with Potter

Draco absolutely loathed it when you'd go all big sister on him in public.

There was one day where you had to separate Harry from a fight with Draco and who pulled Harry back but Fred.

Fred walked up to you afterwards saying "Hey. Sorry about Harry."

You chuckled and nodded. "Sorry about my brother. He tends to get on people's nerves."

Fred smiled "Mind if I sit here?" He asked.

You nodded and he sat next to you.

"So you're Draco's sister... And you're a hufflepuff?" He asked.

You sucked in a breath at that sentence, gripping your glass.

Fred noticed that look.

Pure resentment to that phrase.

"Do you enjoy hogwarts?" Fred asked, cutting your attention away.

"... It's my home." You muttered.

"it's that for a lot of people." Fred nodded.

You took a long sip of your drink.

"Why the sudden curiosity?" You asked.

"Well... I actually didn't know Draco had a sister until four hours ago." Fred admitted.

"Really? You didn't realize the Malfoy's had a massive disappointment?" You asked sarcastically.

"Why would they be disappointed?" Fred asked.

You gave him a "really?" Look before motioning to the table he was sitting at and then your robes.

"... They're upset over a factor you had no control over?" Fred asked.

"Pretty much." You said.

"That's rubbish." He scoffed.

"Try telling that to von douchebag-- I mean father." You said making Fred smile.

Fred finding his way to you was quickly becoming a regular thing

He'd usually sit with you at dinner getting to know the little of pieces of you that many people didn't even bother to see

Draco frowned noticing you and Fred

He pulled you aside.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing!?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Father's already pissed about the house but friends with a Weasley!? Are you out of your mind!?" Draco asked.

"....I don't care." You said.

Yeah so your third year was the year you basically gave up trying to please your father

Draco was honestly anxious about it.

You were his sister. He might not say it but he loves you.

He definitely noticed the nights that you and Lucius would argue and you'd have meltdowns in the hallway.

The thing was: if Draco cried, you, Lucius or Narcissa would come running.

You had only Draco who'd be concerned.

So when you gave up trying to be the perfect daughter Draco feared that Lucius would be pissed.

Which he was when he caught wind of who you spent your time with.

He found out from Arthur that Fred had been spending a lot of time with one of his children.

And Lucius immediately knew who it was.

He came to you pissed.

"What in the hell are you thinking spending time with a Weasley!?"

You did something you never did before.

You actually rolled your eyes.

"You're acting like a child father." You said sharply.

"Excuse me!?" Lucius asked.

"You feud with them, yet you don't actually know them. Just because they have low status doesn't mean they're not worth your time." You snapped.

He threatened to send you to Durmstrang and you actually said "Oh I wish you would because at least I wouldn't be here!"

You went back to school and Draco was keeping very close to you.

He honestly wanted to spend enough time with you if you were really going to go to a different school.

Fred noticed you doing slightly self destructive things and asked Draco what exactly was going on.

Draco told him everything figuring Fred could talk some sense into you.

And Fred did.

He found you sitting in the astronomy tower one day.

"Hey." You said.

He sat across from you

"Hey." Fred said.

"What brings you to me?" You asked making him chuckle.

"I wanted to talk to you." Fred said.

He asked you what was going on.

You danced around the subject but ultimately failed.

"Y/n I know Lucius is mad." Fred said.

You dropped any fragments of a smile and looked away.

You two just sat in silence for a while

"Do you know what it's like to feel so alone even though you're surrounded by people?" You finally asked looking at Fred with this expression that honestly almost broke the boy.

"I feel that every time I have to go home. My own father is ashamed of me because I couldn't keep up with his standards, my mother doesn't even try to know me. My little brother is the one having to check on me when one of my parents gets angry." You said.

"I'm alone and that's terrifying." You whispered with tears falling down your face.

Fred said nothing, hugging you to his chest.

You just held onto him and that was when Fred gained this protective nature over you. 

You stopped the self destructive habits and relaxed a bit on the “Let’s piss off Dad” bit.

Draco eased up a lot on you hanging out with Fred and George now, seeing as Fred obviously provided comfort to you. 

George began to really love having you around, considering you called yourself “THE BRINGER OF CHAOS” But was too terrified to order anything in Hogsmeade because you were socially awkward

“Ah yes, the bringer of chaos seems to have had trouble yet again with her drink order.” George teased.

“Okay, first off: Fuck you. Second off: Ordering is hard okay!?” You said, earning snorts from Fred and George

Fred invited you to come over for the summer

You were determined to go but Lucius basically told you “If you go, the door here is never open to you again.” 

Draco gave you a look that just said “Y/n. Do it.” 

And you did. No hesitation as Lucius basically disowned you. 

So you left, family ring resting on the dining table along with a letter to Draco.

When you showed up to the Burrow the weight of what happened hit you as you walked in.

Fred saw you and hugged you and for some reason that made you breakdown sobbing.

The whole family was naturally concerned.

I mean, you did just show up and start crying.

Fred didn’t even ask what was wrong, he just held you. 

Then he noticed the absence of your family ring. 

“Y/n... Where’s your ring?” He asked. 

“I-I... I-I’ve been disowned.” You finally admitted making Molly exchange a look with Arthur that screamed “This is our kid now”

Fred was PISSED though at Lucius

When you went to bed Fred and George sat at a table with their parents and talked.

“I’m going to kill that man if I ever see him!” Fred snapped. 

“Freddie!” Molly scolded. 

“Oh come on mum, you have to admit, even for this man this is low.” George agreed. 

“I have to side with the boys on this one, there is no excuse to give up on a child.” Arthur nodded. 

“I cannot believe he did this! How can you not love Y/n!? She’s literally one of the sweetest people on the face of the planet.” Fred griped making Molly, Arthur and George all look at Fred

Did he just... Imply that he loved you?

“What?” Fred asked, noticing the looks. 

“Nothing! just... We’ve never seen you so focused on someone.” Arthur said. 

“Just makes me wonder if you like Y/n.” George muttered. 

“Wha-- no!” Fred denied

But that one little comment kept that boy up for days

He didn’t like you. Right?

Although... He did notice the cute little habit of biting your lip when you read

Or the fact that you always tucked your hair behind your ear when you felt someone watching you

Or that beautiful laugh that would make Fred smile every time he heard it

Or the smile that could light up a room

Fuck. Maybe he did like you.

George noticed the sleeplessness that started with Fred

He even commented on it at one point but Fred ignored it.

One night confirmed Fred’s thought on liking you. 

He again, could not sleep. So he sat outside.

You came outside with two mugs filled with hot cocoa.

“Saw you out here and figured you could use this.” You said sitting next to him. 

You looked at the stars with Fred and that was the moment that boy fell and he fell HARD.

The way your eyes just reflected the stars, the way your lips parted 

the way the braid in your hair, pulled it back so your face was visible

The look in your eyes when you looked at Fred

Oh that boy was HOOKED man.

When you went back to Hogwarts you ran into Lucius at the station.

The Weasley children all looked ready to straight up kill Lucius when he looked over at you. 

You expected Draco to ignore you but the second he saw you he hugged you. 

He was taller now. 

God you missed your little brother

The good thing about Hogwarts was: Lucius was no where near you, so you could spend as much time with your little brother as you wanted. 

Draco sat with you guys on the train, telling you basically what happened after you left

You were surprised to hear that Lucius actually couldn’t even look in the direction of your room

You were even more surprised to hear that Narcissa refused to let any house elves remove anything from it either. 

There was a part of you that wanted to return. But then you remembered that empty feeling of when you were there and you pushed it down. 

Draco was now more involved with the Weasleys 

They didn’t mind. 

At least someone in your family was actively showing that they cared about you. 

There were a lot more... Moments popping up with you and Fred though that were making everyone watch you two 

Specifically one where Fred grabbed a book you couldn’t reach and when you turned around you two were close

When I say close I mean you could feel his breath on your cheek close. 

You also had this cute little thing where Fred would steal your books and you’d have to jump on his back for them 

You could crawl up that boy like a God damn spider monkey 

A part of you wanted to climb him in a different way

He’d always make you smile, without fail. 

Sometimes you’d have these little moments where it was honest to God a wonder you two weren’t dating

Like the time that Fred almost had you pinned against a wall, faces centimeters apart as he handed you back your books after taking them

Or the winks he’d give you

Or the fact that he sometimes would just pick you up from behind and make you giggle.

Even Draco was waiting for one of you to FUCKING SAY SOMETHING

That day finally came when George had this funny little game to play

Ever heard of the game “Red light”?

Here’s the rules: You have to basically play the game to make a person feel uncomfortable enough that they say “RED LIGHT” 

Here’s the thing: You’re a spiteful bitch and so is Fred

Everyone else playing would crack.

So when it was just down to you two Fred had to make you uncomfortable

He leaned in, very close to you and kept a hand rested on your knee

Your face had this smirk on it as Fred inched closer to you

That’s when you pulled an uno reverse card on the bastard and kissed his nose, making his eyes go wide. 

Two could play at that game though.

Fred kissed your cheek

You kissed his cheek.

He kissed your nose, something inside you snapped and you yanked that fucker forward by his tie and kissed him. 

Everyone in the room was losing their shit as Fred parted with you.

The look you two gave each other when he parted was “Wait did that actually just happen?”

But to your surprise Fred actually kissed you again making everyone go ballistic 

When the game ended you had no idea if the events that took place were because of Fred actually wanting to kiss you or if it was just to win

Fred was going through the same thing

Finally you two talked after Fred ran into you in the library

You two talked while you were grabbing a few books for class. 

“About the kiss...” Fred finally said.

“What about it?” You asked, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice 

“I... I really meant it when I kissed you Y/n. I like you.” He finally said.

You turned around with wide eyes. 

“You do?” You asked

“How could I not-- Y/n you’re amazing. Truly captivating.” He told you. 

You turned back around to hide the blush on your face.

“I like you too Fred.” You said, a grin appearing on the boy’s face. 

You reached for a book and he picked it up for you, handing it to you.

You slowly turned around, again the boy’s face centimeters away from yours as you looked in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck it.” He muttered, dropping the book and kissing you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair and he swore if you two weren’t at risk of getting caught, chances are you two would’ve done A LOT more than just making out. 

You two dated though, Fred now never being seen without you. 

The group was relieved when you finally did start dating, honestly they were surprised that didn’t happen until AFTER the game

You absolutely loved Fred though, no question about it. 

Draco was glad to finally see you truly happy.

Was he happy you were dating a Weasley? Hell no. but if you were happy, nothing was going to be said about it. 

Summers were honestly a fun time. 

in... multiple ways... *cough* you two totally slept together *cough*

FAMILY FUN! WOOH!

But there was this one specific moment that Fred knew he was going to marry you one day

You were watching the sunset, wearing this yellow sundress

Ginny braided your hair that morning and it rested on your shoulder as you stared at the scenery

Fred was helping his mother with the laundry and he noticed you, smiling

You felt someone watching you so you turned around, a breeze kicking up as you turned

The sun on your face with stray strands of hair and that beautiful smile made Fred melt. 

He just knew “This is my future wife, I dare you to change my fucking mind.”

So graduation was approaching and Fred had already made up his mind, he was marrying you. 

But he wanted to play this right.

So he went to the crowned king of douchebag himself- Lucius Malfoy

He was so official, going as far to set up an appointment with this fucker. 

Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and him sat in his study in complete silence for a LONG time, mostly Fred resisting the urge to absolutely pop off at him

“Why are you here Weasley?” Lucius finally asked

Fred took in a breath. “I want to marry your daughter.” He said.

Draco looked at Fred surprised. 

“What?” Lucius asked. 

“I want to Marry Y/n. I know you hate me, I honestly couldn’t care less about that. But I hope you’ll set aside those emotions because I love your daughter.” Fred finally said. 

Draco looked at Fred and then Lucius. 

“Lucius.” Narcissa said. 

He seemed to be pondering before letting out a LONG sigh

“you have my blessing.” He finally said

“I’m willing to fight you on-- wait really?” Fred gaped

“Yes. While I’m not exactly happy about this, you’ve provided Y/n with a haven. You’ve made her happy. I can’t make up for the time I spent fighting with her but I can try to fix the bond now. Starting with this.” Lucius said making Draco gape. 

“Thank you.” Fred said relieved. 

“When are you proposing?” 

Shit. He hadn’t thought that out yet. 

“... I’m not sure.” Fred admitted. 

“Next week!” Draco said. 

Everyone turned to him

“You graduate next week, I have an idea for you.” Draco said

This kid’s idea was fucking smart too. 

Take you stargazing. Spend quality time with her. And then when it feels right, propose. 

And Fred took that advice to heart

After graduation you went back to the Burrow to find your father, mother and brother waiting

“Father?” You gaped. 

You two had a long overdue conversation. It was emotional and hard. But the words “I’m proud to see the woman you’ve become” Made you nearly break down

Was your relationship with Lucius fixed? Fuck no. You still had this piece of you that wasn’t ready to trust him

But at least now he was trying.

You all celebrated together

You found it strange that Draco and George seemed to know something you didn’t

You shrugged it off though and just spent the time laughing and smiling

When everyone tired themselves out Fred and you went outside looking at the stars

You had his arms wrapped around you staring at the stars with this peaceful smile. 

He let go of you at one point and you rose a brow turning around to see him on one knee

“Oh my god” You gaped

:”Y/n--” “Yes” “Would you do--” “Yes” “The honor of being my wi--” “Yes- sorry” “The honor of being my wife--” “YES”

you tackled him into a hug, kissing his face with a smile 

Everyone heard you make a loud noise outside, Draco and George both smiling because they knew exactly what just happened.

Charlie, Bill and Percy popped in confusing the fuck out of the rest of the family, what the hell was going on?

You finally walked back in and had this MASSIVE smile on your face. 

“I proposed.” Fred said making everyone else stand up.

“I said yes!” You squealed making everyone practically scream. 

lots of crying from Molly 

And Ron

You two got married soon after and the store was finally opened

You, Fred and George ran it together

The shop was always filled with smiles and laughter

Lucius and Narcissa would come over for the holidays

You swore once you saw your father smile.

He denies it even to this day

Draco always writes to his big sister.

ALWAYS MAN

He usually pops in too to say hi. 

George takes complete credit for getting you two together

Which... He’s not wrong but damn does he lord it over you two

So when your first son’s middle name was George he might’ve cried

a lot

You absolutely adored the life you made for yourself here

You loved to just stand in the doorway of your home sometimes and just watch Fred with Orion.

Because they were your entire world.

[dakotasgreenkitchen]

Take A Chance On Me- Part 3.

“Florence?” Amelia called as she set the keys down onto the dish, placing Scout into his playpen.

“My room.” Florence answered back, her voice softer than Amelia’s.

“What did you do?!” Amelia exclaimed, her eyes wide as she saw the paint on the walls and tarps covering the floor.

“This room was plain, I made it better.” Florence said proudly, showing off the colorful almost retro flowers she had painted over the walls.

The white bed frame was now orange and the walls had a color palette of oranges, pinks and yellows. Amelia could clearly see Florence was taking advantage of being her own person.

“I didn’t tell you this was okay.” Amelia said firmly- like Evelyn told her once you’re building a boat.

“It’s just paint. If all else fails you can just get white paint and go over them a couple times.” Florence shrugged tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“You really should ask permission. What if we sold the house or someone wanted to see it?” Amelia asked, her eyebrow raising.

“Oh so when Scout gets older and you get tired of having a random ass teenager you can give me back and won’t have to redo the house?” Florence pressed, was it stupid to argue with the woman giving you shelter and a life, sure. But Florence was never one to back down.

“We’re not going to give you back. I would just like some warning if you’re going to paint the walls.” Amelia said slipping her hands into her pockets, not willing to argue with a teenager- teenagers were scary.

“Okay then. Well I’m gonna keep painting and unless you want to inhale it I would leave.” Florence shrugged picking up the paint brush once more before making Amelia sigh as she walked away.

“I have no authority with her bubba.” Amelia pouted as she lifted Scout out of his pin.

Scout just babbled as he grabbed onto her scrub top, giggling at the faces Amelia was making at him. God babies were easy compared to whatever fight? Disagreement? That she clearly lost with Florence.

—

“I can’t believe you are the adult and you still lost an argument over the walls of our house with a teenager.” Link laughed as he stirred the sauce in the saucepan.

“I don’t know how far I’m allowed to push, technically I’m not her mother or I guess she doesn’t see me as that. I just don’t know how far I can push.” Amelia explained, her head resting in the palm of her hand.

“Well what did you do with Betty, how far did you push?” Link asked dipping the pasta and sauce onto plates.

“Well she was on drugs and like me so I knew how to handle that. But Florence as far as I know isn’t a drug addict. She’s just Florence.” Amelia sighed, leaning her head back facing the ceiling.

“Then just let her be Florence. She hasn’t done anything worthy of punishing her.” Link reasoned as he passed Amelia her plate.

“FLORENCE. COME EAT DINNER.” Amelia called as she walked the plates to the table along with their glasses.

“I’m here.” Florence said as she sat down at the table next to Scout’s high chair.

“What was school like. Did you meet anyone?” Link asked once everyone began eating.

Florence just shrugged. In her mind she wasn’t being rude, she never had sit down meals with adults who truly cared about her days.

Most days in the home was spent eating in the dining hall with one of her closest friends. Jolene. Jolene was much like the Dolly Parton song. Red hair and emerald green eyes.

Jolene’s hair curled into ringlets and Jolene had also lost both parents to a fire. Her and Florence had kept each other sane and was a shoulder to cry on and open mind to vent towards.

“It was fine.” Florence spoke quietly, moving her fork around her plate before taking a small bite.

“That’s good. Did you make new friends? I know it can be hard when you transfer.” Amelia said her voice supportive and kind.

“Yeah a couple, but I miss Jolene.” Florence sighed, taking a sip of her glass.

“Jolene?” Link asked, him and Amelia had never heard of a Jolene since Florence moved in.

“She was my best friend at the home. Her parents died in a fire too. We kept each other sane.” Florence said, Amelia and Link getting up to clean up the kitchen.

“Like your person?” Amelia mused, finally feeling like she could relate to the young teenager.

“Not really. Just my best friend.” Florence said, her brunette eyebrow raised as she placed the dishes into the dishwasher.

—

“Hey you.” Jolene smiled, glad to see her best friend’s face on the phone. They barely had time to talk since Florence went to school.

“Hi lovey.” Florence teased, her head resting on her knees.

“I miss you girl. It’s so fucking boring here. I thought Mrs. Lawrence would throw me out a window for my attitude today.” Jolene rolled her emerald eyes.

“Fuck her. She never liked me. Ever.” Florence laughed, propping the phone up as she walked towards her closet.

“She didn’t like either of us. The two bitchiest orphans.” Jolene chuckled, her ringlets falling out of the braid she had them in.

“Being bitchy kept us from being walked over. How is Dan. Or did you give up on him?” Florence semi shouted as she thumbed through her clothes, the patterns mixing as she moved quickly.

“I gave up. But some dudes who got married want to come meet me so. How’s the perky ones?” Jolene laughed as Florence sat back onto the bed, the phone in her hands.

Amelia passed by, Florence’s door cracked and she could hear them talking. Even though it’s a bad move; she had to learn more about her now daughter.

“They’re okay I guess. I just still don’t get why they wanted me. They have a baby. Like I’m way past the age of being wanted. But I think I got in trouble for painting the walls.” Florence said crossing her leg one over the other.

“Brutal. I don’t get that either but I don’t know why these guys want to talk to me. When I get out of here if I ever do I promise I’ll come see you Flo.” Jolene smiled sadly, even though Florence wasn’t that far, they had spent every moment of every day together since they were 8.

They had spent 7 years chained at the hip. And for the first time in a very long time, they were both virtually alone. Sure they had internet.

But that doesn’t come close to laying in bed at night, having snuck the communion wafers that night during mass. Laughing until they almost choked.

Or sitting outside, head on a shoulder just having a minute away from school or mass that they didn’t even believe in.

Using Amelia’s term- they were each other’s person. Jolene and Florence were the one constant in each other’s life. The one thing that was always there no matter the situation or time.

“Please do. I miss you lovey. It’s fucking weird not being able to just crawl in the bed in the middle of the night with the communion wafers.” Florence smiled, her head falling onto the pillows.

“You can say that again. Well phone time is almost up but I will call you tomorrow same time. Love you to the moon.” Jolene said waving her hand.

“And back every day.” Florence finished, her smiled fading as she hung up. Damn it, she missed Jolene.

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 7

:3c

I exchanged @biodad-bruce-month‘s Day 7: Fashion Show with Fight!

Chapter 7: Fight

-

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords

-

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Amira looked at the white board inside her walk-in closet, reviewing the new information she got last night. During last night’s patrol, Amira took a break halfway through, using the time to ask Tikki more questions regarding the miraculous. 

They were earrings, which thankfully, can shift in design but can’t change its original form: earrings. 

So here was Amira, sporting all black studs. Simple and hidden in plain sight. Amira also found out that the appearance of the earrings can always be changed as Tikki doesn’t have to use too much energy to do so. Therefore, Amira has been planning on changing its appearance after every akuma attack, an easy tactic to see exactly how much Hawkmoth himself knows about the Ladybug miraculous.

Next up, her yo-yo. Turns out that it’s more than just that. While it works as a tracker and phone, it only works when Amira is transformed. No yo-yo, no way to communicate with Chat. Because of this, Amira decided to get him a burner phone to make sure the two can communicate outside the suit. Will also help in case they have to communicate during an energy break while there is an akuma. 

Her costume. Thankfully, Tikki had told her that it morphs into whichever design the holder has in their head. With more concentration on the design, the more the costume will have what the holder would want. After patrol, Amira made it her mission to get the utility belt in her design and after plenty of trial and errors, Amira got it. 

Now she had smoke pellets, a taser, a small utility knife and a first aid kit at her disposal. Of course, the belt came with a price - her dagger.

Brushing out her hair, Amira looked at her reflection. She always hated having long hair. While Dick always told her that he liked her hair when it was long (because he liked braiding it for her), Amira never took a shine to having long hair. 

It was a hassle to brush out, to clean. During track (even though she was only on the team for two years), Amira hated seeing other girls have their lucky amulets in their hair. A special pin or hair tie from their fathers and sometimes from their-

“-to Marinette!” Tikki yelled, snapping Amira from her trip down memory hell.

“Tikki, I live across the school. I won’t be late.” Marinette stated, continuing to stare at her reflection.

“I know that, but your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Tikki said, showing her the multiple texts she was receiving.

Marinette took it, smiling when she saw they were from Wally and Dick, telling her to have a better day at school than yesterday’s disaster. “Are they from your friends?”

“You can say that.” Marinette said, tucking her phone into her pocket, looking at her reflection once again. “Tikki. Can you grab my fabric scissors on the table near my monitors?”

-

“It suits you.” Alya randomly told Marinette after the end of their first class. “Your hair, I mean. Don’t think I didn’t notice it.” Marinette simply blinked, wondering why people always said a compliment before bringing up their actual motives. “Name’s Alya-”

“-Cesaire. I know. Now if you excuse me, I have a class to get to.” Marinette filled in, getting up to leave, only for Alya to grab her wrist. “Let go.”

“Sorry!” Alya apologized, letting go of Marinette. “I just...I just wanted to tell you that you were a bit too harsh on Mlle Bustier yesterday. You should apologize.” Alya didn’t expect a scoff from Marinette.

“I’m not going to apologize for standing up for what I know is right.”

“Mlle Bustier-”

“-should’ve done her job correctly instead of enabling, especially now that Hawkmoth is a threat. But even with Hawkmoth out of the picture, Ms.Bustier shouldn’t have just assumed it was Ivan who instigated the argument. There’s always two sides of a story and we should always make it our job to figure out who is right. Sometimes, we even figure out why things happened the way they did. Sometimes, we find out we are wrong and when that happens, we have to accept it. If not, how else will we grow?”

With those words, Marinette gave Alya a little bow before going to her next class. Hopefully Marinette can find M. D'Argencourt during her break to try and convince him to let her join the fencing club...again.

 -

“Well, that went easier than I thought.” Marinette told herself, walking down the school steps. M. D'Argencour had happily accepted her into the team, proceeding to tell her the team’s schedule.

While it took a while to hunt the coach down, Marinette was about to find him towards the end of the day.

“Why exactly do you want to know fencing?” Tikki asked her from the pocket inside her sweater.

“I just found it...interesting.” Marinette lied, knowing she couldn’t tell Tikki that her father never let her take up the hobby. While Bruce had allowed Jason to learn how to use a sword, Jason quickly dropped it. Dick was also taught how to use a sword, but he complained how annoying it would be to carry it around, hence the reason why he carries escrima sticks.

While fencing wasn’t the same, fencing will help her gain more skills she can use during her fights. You never know after all.

After greeting Tom and Sabine and squishing Bridgette’s cheeks, Marinette made her way to her room, only to find him in there...again.

“If it’s about the Miraculous, I’m still not giving it to you.” Amira said, throwing her school bag to the floor. She whispered the renouncing spell before reaching into her jewelry box, where countless dupes rested. Oh how she wanted to cackle when she saw her father look at her with wide eyes. 

“Amira, hand them over.” Bruce ordered, stretching out his hand in hopes of Amira doing the correct thing.

“Why won’t you trust me?” Amira gritted, balling her fists. “Why don’t you trust me to do the right thing?”

“I do trust you.” Bruce said, taking a step forward. “That’s why I expect you-”

“I can’t just hand earrings over! The people need me! They need Ladybird to-”

“You don’t need to be running around Paris playing hero, Amira. Let Diana-”

“Must I remind you that I was given the earrings? It’s me who they want! Me! And no! I’m not playing hero! Hell, I’m not even a hero! I’m a vigilante! I’m doing what’s right by being Ladybird, by protecting the people the only way I can.” Amira reasoned, looking at her father. “And trust? Doesn’t that go both ways?” Amira set out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. “After all, when were you going to tell me about Batgirl? About...the new Robin?”

How Amira wanted to scream when Bruce remained silent. 

“How did you find out?” Amira scoffed.

“Find out? The whole internet was talking about it! My class was talking about just earlier today!”

It happened during break. Just as Marinette was leaving the class, she bumped into the second surprise of the day in the form of teen model Adrien Agreste. 

Adrien apologized for the accident when Chloe pulled him into the class and began to ‘teach’ him what it meant to be part of a school. The only reason Marinette even remained in class at that point was because she heard Adrien talk about this being his first time in a school...meaning that up until now, he had been homeschooled all his life.

Kinda how like she was up until she was around seven to eight years old. But to be homeschooled until 13? How lonely he must have been. Especially when she heard he was the only child at home.

You’re really ungrateful.

Marinette stiffened, feeling her heart pick up in pace upon remembering Jason’s words. She already knew that...she knew, but was it wrong of her to want something else? To want to have something different than what she currently had?

As Marinette was fighting off the beginnings of a breakdown, Alya’s sudden burst almost triggered it.

“Since when did Robin come back to Gotham?!” Alya yelled, rising from her seat. 

Marinette didn’t need to hear any more, running out of the classroom and locking herself into one of the girl’s bathroom stalls. While she hated having breakdowns, Amira was glad to have had one, as it helped her gained more insight on how Hawkmoth’s powers worked.

He can’t control you if you’re in the middle of an emotional breakdown and can’t register his words. In other words, he can’t control you if you’re already out of control. 

Guess it’s good to know that if Joker were to ever come to Paris, Hawkmoth wouldn’t be able to take over him. 

Amira looked at her father, awaiting for his response. “Under different circumstances, I would have forgiven you for replacing Jason with another guy. But it hasn’t been a year since he died and you’ve already replaced him. 

You know how Jason felt, you know he lived with the fear of doing a single thing that would give you a reason to kick him out of the manor. And while you always assured him you would never do that, here you are, doing just that.” Amira watched as her vision went blurry, wiping them away as she collected herself again. 

“I wasn’t replacing-“

“You were. You are. And not only have you replaced Jason, but it seems you’ve also replaced me.” Amira looked at herself. “Batgirl? Really? You know that was the name I wanted to use if you ever let me fight crime alongside you. Of course, that never happened.”

“Amira.”

“At this point, I don’t care what you do.” Amira gripped all the turmoil inside her. “Right now. I just want you to leave.”

“Amira.”

“Leave! I don’t want to see your face Bruce!” Amira yelled, shocking herself at her outburst. 

Bruce? Why did it feel so wrong, yet so right? She tried it again. “I don’t want you anywhere near me Bruce, so leave! Just leave!”

And he did.

As she watched Bruce leave her room with a heavy heart, she slumped to the floor, standing back up when she felt something approach her. “Tikki!” Tikki appeared before her. “Spots on!” A second later, an akuma appeared before her, Amira quickly capturing it. Before letting it go, Amira quickly searched for a glass jar and a box in her desk.

She let the now purified butterfly go into the jar, surprised to see that it didn’t phase through the jar. So it was just a normal butterfly after all. When coated in magic, the magic allowed it to phase through whatever it wanted to to ensure that it made it to its target.

Calling off her transformation, Amira quickly got to work, carefully placing a tracker on the butterfly’s wing. 

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Tikki asked, looking at her holder with worried eyes.

“I’m alright Tikki. I’m alright.”

-

No, she wasn’t alright.

The next day at school, Chloe tried to stick gum in her seat as a revenge plan for once again chewing out Mlle Bustier for allowing Chloe to interrupt the classroom with another one of her stupid excuses. Not to mention Chloe using her father’s position to get away with said excuse.

It didn’t help when Marinette was stuck with Alya trying to ask her about her past in Gotham and Alya claiming to be her friend.

They barely knew each other and this girl was already clinging to her like a newborn chick. 

While Marinette tried to avoid her at all costs, Alya always found her, Marinette hating it. Didn’t she know about personal space?

Her week got worse when Chat accepted the burner phone but refused to be trained by her. Something about him not needing it.

Thankfully, she was able to vent to Dick and Wally, although more to Wally since Dick was busy with university. 

Days went by and even then, Amira knew she was never going to adjust to life in Paris.

It’s only been four akumas and this city already thinks they saved the world. 

While technically they saved Paris, Ladybird and Chat have yet to fight off a Victim that can become a potential threat to the world. Bubbler and Mr.Pigeon weren’t exactly the worst to deal with, but they weren’t the easiest to take down either. As for Stormy Weather and Lady Wifi, Ladybird realized that it was Victims like them who posed a threat to France. Victims with intangible powers were a force to be reckoned with after all. 

But just because the duo saved Paris four times, it didn’t mean their work was done. They had yet to find out who Hawkmoth was.

Oh, did she mention the ridiculous statue they made in her and Chat’s honor because of the four Victims they took down so far? Long story short, she didn’t go to the ceremony and Chat must’ve told the artist something stupid because here they were. Fighting a Victim all thanks to Chat and his loud mouth.

“Chat! Stop trying to regain your honor and let me-” Ladybird yelled, only to get pushed back by his bo.

“No! This is my fight!” Chat hissed, attempting to land a hit on his copycat. Copycat grinned as he parried all of Chat’s hits, flinging Chat’s bo to the side when he saw an opening. 

“He’s good.” Chat said, landing next to Ladybug as he retreated. Ladybird scoffed, gaining an arched brow from her partner.

“He’s good? Got some pretty low standards there Chat. Have you ever seen Nightwing in combat? This guy is nothing compared to him.” With that, Ladybird charged into the fight, picking up Chat’s bo and using it against Copycat.

The two fought, Ladybird noticing Copycat starting to hit her with less force, more sloppily. He was starting to become more aggressive, half of his hits missing. 

“Chat! Switch!” Ladybird yelled, knocking Copycat’s staff from his hands and throwing Chat his own back to him.

With Chat distracting Copycat, Ladybird waited for the perfect- there!

Chat had launched Copycat into the air, Ladybird using this to wrap him with her yo-yo and slamming him down. Holding him down, Ladybird turned to Chat.

“Where’s his akuma?”

“Here!” Chat said, taking out a photo from Copycat’s pocket. Ripping it, it released the akuma, Ladybird unwrapping her yo-yo and capturing the akuma. Now purified and having the tracker implanted, Ladybird released the butterfly. 

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybird watched as everything was returned and fixed. Turning to Chat, she glared at him. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes. Meet you at the rendezvous in a few.”

NEXT

[biotic-boshtet]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

hellooooo friends, lets continue my trend of updating at godawful hours of the morning

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning

Waking up, Shepard wonders for a second if she dreamt it all, but then she feels Kaidan’s field against her own, gently fizzling. One of his legs is caught between her own. He’s somehow wrapped up in the entire comforter. She relishes in the feeling of just existing next to him for a moment, then he shifts and rolls over, scooching close so he’s pressed against her back, wiggling of the covers to just enough to drape an arm over her waist as he presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“Mmm, good morning.” Norah Jean feels his voice rumbling through him almost more than she hears it. Only one hearing aid is on and it’s pressed into the pillow.

“G’morning,” She readjusts so she’s laying on her back, Kaidan resting his head on her shoulder now. She tugs at the blanket he’s still burrowed into. “You stole the entire comforter overnight.”

“You weren’t using it.”

“So?”

“So, I put it to good use, its cold as hell in here.” He settles down deeper into the bedding.

“It is nice in here.”

“Right. I was getting flashbacks of Noveria while I was trying to fall asleep.”

“Oh please, it’s not that bad.”

The comm system crackles and they both glance up at the speaker on the ceiling.

“Up and at em, Norah Jean! We’re 10 minutes out from the Mu relay. Might wanna head up here.”

The channel clicks closed before she can respond. Norah Jean hides her face against Kaidan’s hair for just a moment, before sighing and rolling out of bed.

“So, do I get to call you Norah Jean now?” Kaidan sits up in bed, rubbing his arms, content to watch her in the dim light for now.

“If you want, preferably not around the rest of the crew, not if we’re gonna keep this quiet.” She gestures to the general space between them as she pulls on a t-shirt. Almost immediately, she pulls it back off, throwing it at Kaidan. “That one’s yours.”

“Joker calls you Norah Jean, always wondered about that.” He finally gets out of bed, shuffling around looking for the clothes they’d left scattered around the room.

“Close friends and family. He’s both.” Norah Jean tosses another piece of his uniform at him, this time hitting him square in the face, making herself giggle. She’s standing in front of the mirror, fingers staring to comb through her hair, then swiftly braiding down its length. Pins sticking out of her mouth, she carefully winds the braid into a flat bun, pinning as she goes until its completely secure.

“Y’know, that is mesmerizing to watch. Almost as fun as finding all the pins to take it down again.” He’s sitting on the desk, tugging on his boots.

“Maybe you can put it up next time, see if you can get the bun within regulation.” Finishing the last button on her uniform shirt, she tucks her it in and fastens her belt.

“I think I’ll leave that one up to you, you’re the expert.” Boots tied, he made his way across the room to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She stood still for a moment, cleaning up her eyeliner. He rested his head on hers, eyeing her reflection. “God, you’re beautiful.” He paused a moment, grinning. “Norah Jean. Yeah, that’s good. I like that.” Hearing her name from his mouth sounded so right.

She turned around in his arms, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “We should go.”

“Mhmm, maybe just one more.” His hands cup her cheeks, and he kisses her slowly, savoring every second he gets.

Then the two of them walk out the door and pretend to be nothing more than friends while they try to save the galaxy.

-

She’s alive. She’s alive and everything hurts. She shifts and immediately freezes; white hot pain blocks every coherent thought. Alarms wail in the distance, she focuses on their sound, breathing through the pain. Most of the debris missed her on the way down. She’s not pinned under anything; she just hurts like hell. She shifts slowly, black spots dancing in her vision, working her way to a sitting position. She moves her left leg, and the pain comes again, this time she can think enough to pinpoint the source. Her knee is wrecked, probably. But it sure hurts like a bitch.

One more try. Gotta be worth one more try. She grips the low wall of a garden bed behind her as she tries to get to her good foot.

Tries.

The more she moves the more she hurts. Can’t even fucking breathe right around the shooting pain in her ribs. Swearing, she let herself sink back down to the floor. Somebody’ll find her. Eventually. Probably.

-

After two weeks of debriefings and medical paperwork and an official Alliance investigation, she was finally free. She’d been put on a week of mandatory shore leave, along with the rest of the Normandy’s Alliance crew. Looking around the courtyard, she spots Kaidan, just where he said he’d wait, and she’s making her way over to him. He looks up from his omnitool with a smile as their fields intersect.

“Hey, Norah Jean.” He gets halfway off the bench when she grabs his shirt and kisses him senseless, crutches falling to the ground. He reacts almost immediately, one hand sliding around her waist and kissing her back, oh so slowly, calming her frantic pace. When they pull away for air, his free hand cradles her face, thumb gently brushing over her cheek. He presses a kiss to her nose. “Hey, hey, we’ve got time.”

“Let’s get away, Kaidan, just the two of us.” She’s still breathless, all she wants is to kiss him again, but she settles for resting her forehead against his chest.

“You got a place in mind?”

“My grandparent’s old house, in Anchorage. Couple hours away, at least. Quiet and pretty unlikely to be occupied this time of year.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” He grabs her crutches and hands them to her, before grabbing his own bag off the bench.

-

Six hours and a trip to the grocery store later, they’re climbing out of a skycar in front of a modest looking house, twenty minutes outside the city limits of Anchorage, Alaska. Standing on the porch, Norah Jean leans her crutches against the siding to dig into a rarely used pocket of her duffel bag. She retrieves an old set of keys, unlocking the doorknob, then leaning all her weight against the door to unlock the deadbolt. The door creaks as she swings it open.

“After you.” She waves Kaidan and his armful of grocery bags into the dark house, grabbing her crutches and following him in, locking the door behind them. She flips the lights on, illuminating the living room and kitchen.

“Nice place. You spend a lot of time here?” Kaidan sets their groceries down on the counter, separating out the perishables. Norah Jean leans on the bar, smiling at him as he opens a bottle of beer and passes it to her.

“Not anymore, used to visit all the time as a kid though. Pretty sure my bedroom hasn’t changed in 20 years.” She clinks her bottle against his and takes a swig.

“Let me guess, you’ve got model ships all over your room.”

“Close. Old space stations and satellites. Plus, a scale model of the solar system, minus the sun.”

“Impressive.”

“I like to think so.”

“Can’t wait to see it.”

“You’ll see when groceries are put away.”

“And you’re not gonna help me?”

“Kaidan, if you want me in that tiny kitchen with my crutches, I’ll gladly grab one thing at a time and put it away, but I prefer to stay out of the way. This is a two-butt kitchen, max, and these crutches may as well be an extra butt.”

Kaidan laughs. “Fine, fine, but if you want another beer, you’re grabbing it yourself.”

“I can live with that.”

He puts the last few things in the cupboards, then wanders back around to the bar, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “C’mon, Norah Jean, give me the grand tour.”

“I’m afraid it’s not all that grand, but I’ll indulge you.”

She leads him around the first floor, showing him the fireplace in the living room that’s older than half the house itself. Down the hall is a bathroom and the office that sometimes doubles as a guest room, where Kaidan spends at least 10 minutes asking questions about the artifacts and antiques in display cases along the wall. Between the two is the back door.

Upstairs was another bathroom, the master bedroom, and the other two bedrooms.

“I’d show you Jamie’s room, but I’m pretty sure it’s locked, and also I don’t care, but here’s my old bedroom in all its glory.” Norah Jean swings open the door, flicking on the light, revealing blue-black walls and ceiling, spattered with thousands of white speckles. A handful of constellations are carefully mapped out across the walls.

“Wow.” Kaidan idly traces along the lines of Orion with a finger, gazing around at the sky on her walls. “Did you paint all this?”

Norah Jean snorts, “Hell no, my grandpa did most of it, I helped. Well, I helped as much as a fidgety 5-year-old can muster when she’d rather be outside. Pretty sure there’s a few sets of handprints scattered around from me and Jamie.”

“It looks really good, it’s easy to see how you ended up in space after spending enough nights surrounded by walls like these. You’ve even got Arcturus up here. Didn’t you say you grew up there? On Arcturus station?”

“Yeah, Dad ran the garrison for a while, gave us a break from moving every other year. He didn’t get reassigned till I graduated high school, and by then I’d enlisted.” She drops her duffel bag on the floor, walking across the room to sit on the bed. “How’d you work your way back to the Alliance? After Jump Zero, I mean.”

“Time, mostly. Dad tried not to talk about it, didn’t want to push me further away.” He drops his own bag next to hers and sits on the bed beside her. “Aunt Irene, though, she wouldn’t let it go. She was always trying to talk me into the Marines, long as I can remember. It got a little better as I got older, but then after BAaT, she mostly quit talking about it, just the odd comment once or twice a year. Then a few months before my 22nd birthday, she talked me into staying a week with her and her wife in Rhode Island, to get away from Vancouver and breathe for a bit, y’know, see the Atlantic Ocean, Niagara Falls, few other places. The whole week she didn’t bring up the Alliance even one time. I got so curious that I finally cracked and asked her about it my last day there. She told me I was more than old enough to make my own choice, that she’d talked it up all she could and especially after the disaster with BAaT, all she could do now was support whatever choice I came to. I enlisted 6 months later.”

“Sounds like she really had an impact on you.”

“Yeah. She was having a blast drilling recruits out on Jump Zero when I finally decided. I think she’s still there. She’s made a hell of a reputation breaking in cadets, earned the nickname “Mad Major Mabbit”, she thinks it’s the greatest thing.”

Norah Jean stares at him, mouth hanging open. “No.”

“Yeah.”

“No, Kaidan, she took a year on Arcturus my first year of training, I swear to God she was the reason I almost dropped out. We were butting heads all year. And she’s your aunt?”

“Really? She’s the reason you nearly washed out? I wonder what she’d have to say about you now?”

“Probably not much good, I mean, we did steal the Normandy.”

Before he can say anything in response Norah Jean shivers, then, a long, low rumble of thunder rattles the house. Her face lights up and she shoots off the bed, hopping on her good leg before snatching up her crutches and racing to the window.

“It’s thundering! Let’s go downstairs and watch the storm!” She grabs her N7 hoodie from her bag, tossing it on.

Kaidan gives her a look. “You want to go sit in the rain, just because its thundering?”

“No, I want to sit under the back porch, enjoy the smell of the rain, and watch the lightning, all while staying perfectly dry.”

“Alright, I think I can get behind that.” He gets up off the bed, searching in his own bag for a jacket, pulling it on as Norah Jean works her way down the hall.

He joins her at the top of the stairs, not sure if she stopped to wait or if she doesn’t know how to get down them. Her laser focused stare down the steps says the latter.

“Do you trust me?”

She looks up at him, chewing her lip. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes?”

“Good, I’ll carry you down the stairs.”

Norah Jean makes an undignified squeak as he sweeps her off her feet, careful not to jostle her knee. One arm is almost uncomfortably tight around his neck, and the other grips her crutches as he walks down the stairs. He carries her to the couch, gently setting her down to let her sort herself out.

“You know, I’ve got to learn how to get down the stairs sometime this week.” She grumbles as she gets to her foot, making for the bar and their half-forgotten beers.

“Here, I’ll grab those, and some new ones. And don’t worry, I’ll let you work out the next time yourself.”

He follows her out the back door, to an old bench just out of the way of the water splashing over the edge of the gutters.

“You sure we’ll stay dry?” He passes her one of the open beers.

“Probably. Unless the wind blows this way, we’ll be fine.”

He looks out at the back yard. Lightning flashes, he counts on instinct. Thunder crashes overhead.

“Ten seconds.” She swings her good leg as she sips her beer. “Do you get a fun tingly feeling from thunderstorms? Or is it just 2.5s and 3s?”

“Sometimes. Don’t usually associate it with fun though, it’s just kinda weird feeling to me. I don’t think 2s are as sensitive to it.”

“Huh. I’ve always loved thunderstorms, partly for the feeling. Just one of those things that reminds me I’m still here. Still kicking.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand and she laces her fingers with his.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

All the Reasons I Love You

Ao3

Summary: Virgil wished he could say he didn't believe his mother. Wished he could say he knew her ugly words were also ugly lies and nothing more. But even lies could hold truths, and in this case, Virgil knew hers did- after all, really, who would want to love someone as broken as him? Content: Panic attacks/anxiety, mentally/emotionally abusive parent, mentions of death/dying as jokes (as in no one’s actually dead they just joke that they’re going to be), self-deprecation, self-esteem/self-worth issues, nb!Remy, genderfluid!Logan Pairings: Platonic to romantic Analogical, background romantic Losleep, platonic Sleepxiety, ambiguous future Analosleep

~~

    You’re better than this.

    I know you’re not this weak. Why do you always act like you are?

    No one’s going to want to pick you up if you keep falling apart.

    Virgil slammed his locker shut, leaning his forehead against the cold metal. He and his mom had had another fight the night before, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

    Correction: He had had a panic attack and his mother had yelled at his prone and shaking form. She just called it a fight because then it made it look like they were both in the wrong.

    Virgil couldn’t even remember what had caused it- something she had said, probably, but who knows. All he really remembers is not being able to breathe, falling off the couch as he struggled to get through his counting exercises, his mother watching him with open scorn as she belittled him.

    “You’re never going to get a wife like this.” She had said as he choked on his own hurried breaths. “No one’s going to care about you if you’re so useless.”

    It was always about marriage. As if that mattered to Virgil. His mom didn’t even know he was queer- something he had no plans to ever tell her. He had just focused on trying to breath, a task that had become a little easier once his mother had given up with her insults, stalking off to aggressively wash the dishes. As soon as he could stand without the world completely greying out, Virgil had run off to his room, locking himself in and staying there until he had to leave for school the next day.

    “Greetings, Virgil.”

    Virgil turned his head, still pressing the side of his face against the locker even as he looked at the speaker. Logan was as put together as always- their black and midnight blue hair was pulled into a neat braid, and they were wearing a simple NASA t-shirt that was tucked into their clean and un-ripped jeans. Pinned to the dark leather jacket they had on was both their genderfluid pride pin and their ‘they/them pronouns’ pin.

    “Hey, Lo.” He returned, finally moving so that his shoulder was leaned against his locker and not his head. “Remy give you xir jacket?”

    “I stole it.” Logan responded. When Virgil raised an eyebrow at them, Logan sighed. “Fine, yes, xe gave it to me and refused to let me give it back.”

    Virgil chuckled. “I think Remy’d give you the world if you wanted it. Xe’s not going to make you steal xir jacket.”

    Logan smiled, the corner of their mouth tipping up. “Fair enough.” They said happily. Their smile fell in the next moment, however, being replaced by what Virgil was sure was meant to be a neutral expression but instead came out as a very nervous one. “Virgil, I was wondering if you are free after school today?”

    “Um, I am.” Virgil said, frowning in worry. “Why?”

    “I need- want- need to discuss something with you.” Logan said before adding on quickly, “It’s nothing bad, I assure you.”

    “Uh huh.” Virgil said, tone faintly disbelieving. He appreciated that Logan had tried to ease the anxiety they clearly knew would flare at the words ‘I need to discuss something with you’ with the addition, but given how hurriedly they had added it and the fact that their fingers were tapping repeated against their thigh (one of their nervous stims), it hadn’t helped much. “As long as I can get a ride home, I’m free.”

    Logan nodded. “Of course. Meet you in the park?”

    “Works for me.” Virgil responded. Logan nodded again, just as the bell rang.

    “I have to go.” Logan said, as if Virgil didn’t also have to go. “I have chess at lunch, so I won’t see you then- after school, though, I will?”

    “Yeah, you will.” Virgil confirmed.

    “Great.” Logan said, their tapping stopping for a moment as they smiled. “Have a good day, Virgil.” 

    “You too.” Virgil told them as they turned and rushed down the hall, trying to beat the bell to chemistry. Virgil remained at his locker a moment longer, his classroom close enough he wasn’t worried about tardiness, instead allowing his mind to briefly wander and settle upon what he was worried about- his newly set after school meeting.

    ~~

    “I’m going to die.”

    Remy took a long, noisy slurp of xir iced coffee. “No, you’re not.”

    “Yes I am.”

    “No you’re not.”

    “Yes I-”

    “Hun, as fun as this is, I do not need to deal with you getting yourself stuck in an anxiety spiral right now.” Remy interrupted him, now checking xir nails, painted in shades of black and pink, the colour choice having clearly been made to match with xir pink tank top and black jacket. Virgil thought it still worked, even if xe’s jacket was currently being worn by xir partner. “You haven’t even explained why you think today’s your last.”

    Virgil slumped over the table, letting out a groan. “Logan wants to talk to me after school.”

    “So…?”

    “So, they were clearly nervous about it!” Virgil exclaimed, turning his face downwards and pressing it against the table top. “They’re going to kill me.”

    Remy laughed. “No offense, darling, but I don’t think Logan’s much of a killer. Well, killer looks aside. Besides, what do you care? More time with your friend and crush can’t exactly be the worst thing the world-”

    “Crush-!” Virgil jerked back up, eyes wide. “They’re not my crush!”

    Remy titled xir sunglasses down so that xe could stare at Virgil in disappointment. “Sugar, you ain’t subtle.”

    “Yes- but- you’re dating them!” Virgil resorted to, as if Logan being a taken enby made it impossible for Virgil to think they were cute and nice and clever and-

    “I’m poly, they’re poly,” Remy shrugged as xe spoke, pausing to sip xir drink, “I’m not exactly the jealous type… if you’ve got a thing for them, babes, you might as well just admit it.”

    Virgil didn’t respond immediately, but soon enough he was slumping down again, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on top of them. “Yeah, alright, whatever.”

    Remy smirked. “Now, was that so hard?”

    “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to die at that meeting.”

    Remy sighed. “You’re not going to die at that meeting.”

    Virgil glared heatlessly at Remy. “You can’t promise that.”

    “They’re my boo, I’ll make sure they don’t kill ya.” Remy said, pulling xir phone out of xir pocket and checking xir messages. “Hmph.”

    “What is it?”

    “Logan’s reminding me iced coffee doesn’t count as lunch.” Remy said, looking back at Virgil with a mildly exasperated smile. “That nerd won’t let me get away with half my old habits anymore. It’s almost annoying.”

    “Self-care being gently forced upon you by your beloved.” Virgil said, tone dry with sarcasm as he finished, “Yeah, that sounds awful.”

    “Oh, hush.” Remy said, waving xir hand dismissively as xe put xir phone away. “And come on. I’m not letting you get away with ‘I had a big breakfast’ if Logan won’t let me get away with iced coffee.”

    Virgil huffed but he still got up. “Why must you force your partner’s policies upon me?”

    “Because you’re my friend so I want you to practice self-care too, and I don’t want to suffer alone.” Remy said as xe headed for the cafeteria doors, Virgil following xem. “Plus, I figure they’re gonna be both our partner soon enough anyways-”

    “What?!”

    “Oh, uh,” Remy faltered for a moment, glancing back at Virgil, eyes masked by xir sunglasses but xir expression obviously conflicted. It smoothed out after a moment, however, and xe continued confidently, “well, your secret is officially out now, sweetheart. Shouldn’t take me too long to get y’all matched!”

    “I- oh- Remy-” Virgil tripped over his words, biting his tongue as Remy stopped to look at him in confusion. “You don’t have to do that, Rem, really.”

    “Trust me, sugar, it’ll be my pleasure.” Remy assured him, resuming xir walk towards the exit. “Won’t harm either of us if I try, anyways, yeah?”

    Virgil didn’t reply to that, simply continuing to follow Remy in silence. Because it could harm one of them, specifically himself, when he was forced to confront Logan’s reaction- which could range anywhere from awkward pity to outright disgust.

    After all, while his mother certainly had no right to say the things she said, the things she said were still true… and Logan was so capable, so smart and able to take care of themself… well.

Someone like them wouldn’t fall in love with a ball-and-chain.

    ~~

    Virgil was going to die.

    He was standing at the entrance to the park, Logan seated at a picnic table not too far away from where he was hovering. They hadn’t seen him yet, busy scribbling something or another on their paper, but Virgil knew he didn’t have forever to panic.

    So he was taking what time he did have to mega-panic.

    He had briefly considered running away from the whole situation, but Remy was watching him from the street, waiting in the car and playing the role of both waiting chauffeur and watchdog.

    “You’ll do fine, darling.” Remy had assured him, smirking. “Though, if Logan does kill you, I’m obligated by partner code to help them hide your body.”

    That exchange had not put Virgil at ease.

    Virgil wasn’t even close to finishing his several internal panic attacks when he realized Logan had looked up from their work and spotted him. They were waving him over, smiling. Virgil gulped and tried not to wobble as he made his approach.

    “There you are.” Logan greeted, voice warmer than Virgil had expected from them. His ‘stolen’ jacket now bore both their ‘he/him’ and ‘they/them’ pronoun pins. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming.”

    “Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Virgil said, trying to hide the tremor in both his voice and hands as he sat down across from Logan. “Just had to stay a bit late in sixth- sorry.”

    “It is perfectly alright. No need to apologize.” Logan assured him as he started pushing their papers into his bag. The quick look at them that Virgil got revealed them to not be the equations he had been expecting to see- instead, it was simply covered in back-and-forth lines and meaningless doodles; distractions, things to focus on instead of whatever had them so worked up.

    So this meeting had Logan stressed too. Great. Super. Utterly fantastic.

    Virgil bit down on the inside of his mouth, trying to keep what little bit of his cool he had left. “So. Something you needed to talk to me about?”

    “Uh- yes.” Logan confirmed, though Virgil didn’t miss his hesitation. They looked away from Virgil, his hand once more on their thigh and tapping out a beat too fast for any song to follow.

    “...Can I know what it is you need to talk to me about?” Virgil asked, really starting to hate this theme of him starting the conversation. He wasn’t good at it normally, and right now he felt he was only doing worse.

    Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything right away. Virgil nodded too, an echo of Logan’s movement, deciding to give Logan their time to respond. A minute or two stretched before Logan took in a deep breath, the tapping on his thigh finally coming to a stop as they turned to Virgil. He smiled, a small nervous thing that immediately had Virgil even more on edge.

    “Virgil,” They started, that one word alone spiking Virgil’s blood pressure, “you are my friend of five years. I have known you since seventh grade. I like to believe that, in the span of time between then and now, we have grown… close.”

    “That’s how friendships work, specs.” Virgil said, trying to beat down the demon of paranoia that had arisen to explain to him that Logan was clearly about to disown him, or perhaps shoot him.

    “I am aware, trust me, I just-” Logan cut himself off, laughing nervously and glancing away for a moment before once more returning their gaze to Virgil, “I’m no good at this.”

    Virgil laughed a bit too, albeit more anxiously than nervously. “And what’s ‘this’?”

    Logan let out a breath. “You are aware that I am dating Remy?”

    “Hard not to be, what with you wearing xir jacket and everything.”

    “And you are aware that I am polyamrous and that we are in an open relationship?”

    Virgil swallowed. “Remy told me earlier today, yeah, though I don’t see why that could be important-”

    “I like you!” Logan exclaimed, suddenly, almost panickedly. “Well, love you, more accurately put, but I hope I get my point across-” Logan itched at the back of their neck, looking sheepish. Virgil, for his part, had been frozen since Logan had said those first three words. “I meant to do this much more… eloquently, but I- well, I’m never good with this. You can ask Remy, I yelled it at xem in the middle of a Starbucks- Virgil? Are you okay?”

    Virgil, to his mixed horror and humiliation, didn’t respond, finding himself still functionally frozen in place. His unresponsive exterior wasn’t a very accurate depiction of his inner turmoil, however- he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, his heartbeat drumming in his ear, his lungs constricting and his throat closing up.

    Useless

    Weak

    No one’s going to want you

    Virgil hated that he knew he was only proving the voices right- proving his mother right. But he couldn’t help it. All he could do was choke on nothing and wait for the insults he knew would soon be coming-

    “Virgil!”

    When had Logan gotten so close? Virgil could’ve sworn he was seated across from him, but now they were next to him, and his eyes were really wide, and they looked really worried and that couldn’t be good so why was Logan worried what had him worried-

    “Virgil, I need you to breathe with me.” Logan’s voice was much calmer this time, and Virgil was much more inclined to listen to it. It was reassuring, grounding, familiar.

    He jerked when his hand was touched, but when he realized it was Logan holding his hand, gently guiding it to rest on their chest as he breathed exaggeratedly, he relaxed, trying his hardest to follow Logan’s breaths.

    Virgil wasn’t sure the last time he had come down from a panic attack so quickly. It helped, he thought vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, to have someone helping you instead of yelling at you.

    “Virgil?” Logan repeated Virgil’s name once more, this time softly, concern colouring his tone. “Are you okay?”

    “I- yeah.” Virgil said, still feeling breathless. He didn’t try to move from his position, hunched over and leaning towards Logan, the hand Logan had pressed against their chest remaining there. “Sorry.”

    “No need to apologize.” Logan told him easily, lowering his hand from their chest but still holding it, helping to keep Virgil grounded. “If anyone should be apologizing, Virgil, it’s me. I never thought that my confession might- I didn’t think about how your anxiety might cause you to react, and I am so, so sorry for that.”

    Virgil waved him off with his free hand. “Don’t worry about it.” Logan opened their mouth to respond, but Virgil simply waved dismissively once more. “You couldn’t have known, Lo. It’s not your fault.”

    Logan didn’t make any response to that, but Virgil could tell they wanted to. The silence stretched for a moment before Logan began, “If you want to go home now-”

    “Why?”

    Logan shut up the moment Virgil spoke, eyes wide as they looked at him in confusion. “Why what?”

    “Why- why me?” Virgil asked, disliking how weak he sounded but having no way to remedy it. “I mean, you already have Remy, and I-”

    Logan still looked confused. “Why you?” They repeated, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t it be you?”

    Virgil chuckled, but it was harsh yet shaky. “I’m an anxious mess who overthinks everything! I have a panic attack every other week! I had a panic attack when you tried to tell me you loved me! I don’t exactly have that many redeeming qualities- especially when you look to Remy, who’s got confidence, and style, and-”

    Logan’s small smile returned as he squeezed Virgil’s hand, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Virgil, I’m not picking out partners based on objective merit. If I was, I wouldn’t be dating Remy.”

    “Xe’s your partner-”

    “Xe’s sweet and has no braincells.” Logan corrected, still smiling. “But I love xem, because I think xe’s cute, and xe makes me happy- simple as that.”

    Logan was looking at Virgil now, his smile growing as they moved to hold one of Virgil’s hands in both of his own. “Yes, you have anxiety, and yes, you have panic attacks, but that doesn’t nullify all the reasons I love you.”

    “Reasons you… reasons you love me?” Virgil repeated, voice quiet and vulnerable.

    “You’re thoughtful regarding everything you do.” Logan said without preamble. “And you’re respectful towards all. When bored, you doodle band logos on the backs of your hands, and you run your fingers through your hair when you’re stressed. You sing rock songs under your breath when you think no one can hear and your voice is heavenly when you do so. And sometimes you smile without even realizing it, and I- I think you’re prettiest then, because you’re relaxed and you’re happy and you’re absolutely beautiful.”

    Virgil didn’t know how to respond to that outside of gaping at Logan, feeling once more breathless but now in a good way. “Really?” He managed, just barely.

    Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand again, scooting closer to him so that their knees could bump up against each other. “I would never lie to you, Virgil, not about this.”

    Virgil nodded, more to himself than Logan. “Okay.” He said, quietly.

    “Pardon?”

    “Okay.” Virgil repeated, this time louder, before he allowed himself to slump fully forwards, head falling upon Logan’s shoulder, exhaustion from the panic attack and the sudden need to be much closer to Logan mingling together and pushing him forwards. Logan reacted immediately, releasing Virgil’s hand to wrap their arms around him instead, holding him close but not too tightly.

    “So…” Logan started, uncertainly, though not as nervous as they had been when Virgil first arrived in the park. “If I asked you to be my boyfriend… what would you say?”

    “Yes.” Virgil replied without a thought, the answer already long decided. “I’d- I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

    Almost as soon as he had said that, Virgil could feel Logan pressing a kiss to his head, gentle and sweet. “Good. Because I’d love to be your partner.”

    Virgil pressed himself closer to Logan, head still pressed into his shoulder. “Lo?”

    “Yes, my love?”

    A giddy little smile appeared on Virgil’s lips at the petname. “I love you.”

    Logan chuckled at that, also sounding rather giddy themself, choosing to press another kiss to Virgil’s head. “I love you too.”

    Virgil knew the moment wouldn’t last forever. Soon enough, he’d be once more asking if this was possible and deciding it was not, doubting Logan and their love and falling back into the familiarity of his mother’s words.

    But Logan would be there when that happened, just like he was now, to hold Virgil and remind him of the truth- to love him. Because Virgil knew that this wasn’t perfect. But he also knew that it was real.

    And that was enough.

[kindness-ricochets]

Hi! How are you? Sending virtual (physically-distant) hugs❤

As for your winter fics, would really love anything SoC (Kanej please)

Responding with physically distant hugs and some fic for you!

Kanej is very much not my go-to, so I did my best and I hope you like it. (And you can totally let me know if you didn’t. Like if you wanted fluff or something. I can always take another stab at it... just like Kaz would ;) )

Ketterdam harbor never felt like home, but it felt like welcome nonetheless. Her first arrival here had been one of the most terrible days of her life and Inej would never forget it, but while Nina had saved Inej, it had been the men who saved Ketterdam. Over the years, Inej had returned to Ketterdam many times. She had berthed The Wraith in the harbor and strolled along the damp streets like she had nothing to hide. 

She would always have a warm welcome on the Geldstraat—not from most there, but from Jesper and Wylan. Not just a warm welcome, either: she knew there was a soft bed and warm meals waiting for her, enthusiasm and grins and massive hugs from Jesper, quiet love and fretting from Wylan who always wanted to be sure she had all the provisions and thick socks she needed. No matter changed in their lives—Wylan had grown into himself, Jesper returned to school, and together they were the strangers merchant pair Kerch had ever seen—Inej always saw the love between them, and they always had space for her.

Less changed with Kaz. 

Kaz still wore crisp black suits and leaned on his crow’s-head cane, and kept half-legible books in his attic room at the top of the Slat, the real information stored safely in his head. He had worn a beard for a while, though it never suited him. He was severe and his eyes were cold, but he had a half-smile increasingly ready for Inej.

Jesper and Wylan’s house felt like a comfortable, familiar holiday. The Slat, Kaz, that was a homecoming.

Inej meant to pay a visit shortly after arriving, but a member of her crew had hidden deep in the ship’s belly. Someone else could have done it, but each sailor and hand on The Wraith was her responsibility first. After long minutes of shivers and sobs, the girl had entrusted her story to Inej. It was all too familiar. Though Inej and her crew rescued the girl from a ship of a very different sort of pirate, she had first been used and wrung out on the streets of Ketterdam, and the mingling scents of shipyards and harbors broke something inside her. 

Kaz could wait until tomorrow.

Or so Inej thought.

So she thought as she coaxed the girl up from the hold, so she thought as she saw her safely back to the little room she shared with two other girls around her age, both of whom welcomed their friend—one with compassion, one with anger. Some of them were like that. Some of them didn’t know how to hold and just wanted to hurt the people who hurt their own. Inej would counsel mercy in the morning. For tonight, she simply gave her word that she would be here on the ship. No one was coming aboard without her permission.

As she drifted to sleep, Inej thought of her loved ones in Ketterdam. She thought of Kaz literally burning the midnight oil, frowning over his desk. She thought of Jesper and Wylan asleep in each other’s arms. Her thoughts drift farther, to West Ravka, to Mama and Papa and her aunts, uncles, cousins. Somewhere, who knew where, was Nina Zenik and Hanne Brum, hopefully somewhere with pastries and horses.

Inej believed there were many good people in the world. But she only knew for sure that there were a handful.

====

"Captain!"

Inej bolted upright, already scrambling out of her bed. The captain’s cabin came with a berth built like a little compartment, but sleeping there felt too much like sleeping in a coffin. It wasn’t as soft or as big as the bed waiting for her on the Geldstraat, but her shipboard bed wasn’t an enclosed wooden box, either.

"Captain Ghafa!"

Her lantern came to life with a hum, the glow turning bright and steady as Inej went to the door. She slept in a shirt and trousers, ready at a moment’s notice—like this moment. 

When she unlocked her door, Specht strode into the cabin without a word, a half-conscious mess of a man in his arms and a crow's-head cane tucked through his belt like a sword. Kaz's head lolled, dark hair falling in all directions.

"Kaz?" Inej asked. Panic threw off the last shreds of sleep. 

Saints, what happened to him?! 

"Found him this way," Specht said, setting Kaz on her bed. He leaned the cane against the bed. Kaz was bleeding, a dark, wet patch soaking his front. Bleeding, filthy, face swelling—he had been jumped. Inej noted that he was barefoot. 

How did Kaz Brekker get jumped?

Was this calculated or just someone very desperate and very lucky? A calculated hit wouldn’t take his shoes…

"Get Karine," Inej said, but Specht was already on his way.

Alone with him, she brought the lantern closer.

"Kaz?" she asked. "Can you hear me?" Inej was no Healer, but she knew what to do until one arrived--and she understood what Specht brought Kaz here. As Inej sliced open his shirt and waistcoat, she noticed that he needed a shave. That wasn't like him. Kaz usually took immaculate care with his appearance. And he had been jumped! Instinct told her to pray over him, just quickly, just for a moment in her heart… she did it as she peeled the clothing away. Good, the wound was clear. He groaned.

"It's me," Inej said. The years had softened Kaz towards Inej, but not toward the world. Being touched by an unseen, unknown hand would be too much for him. "You're going to be fine, Kaz," she promised as she wrapped up a handkerchief and pressed it to his wound. 

His eyes snapped open, mouth set in a snarl.

"It's okay."

"Gonna… kill those… bastards," he gritted out.

That was her Kaz. His dark eyes settled on her. "Inej." "You're on The Wraith," she told him. "Specht found you. He's getting our Healer." Kaz's hand reached vaguely toward Inej. She took it and held onto him with one hand, the other keeping pressure on his wound until a half-sleepy Karine arrived from her little room beside the ship's infirmary. Inej understood why Specht hadn't taken Kaz to the infirmary. It was the same reason he had been sure to bring the cane: Kaz valued his dignity more than his life. "Captain Ghafa?" "I need this man stable. The bruises are fine." She could only assume Kaz would want to keep them. Karine nodded. When they first brought her on board, the first thing the Fjerdan girl had done was hack off her long, golden braids. She wore her hair short now and a little wild in a way that contrasted with her round face and wide eyes, but suited her all the same. After less than a year aboard The Wraith, Karine was already confident, sure, and steady. Inej was proud of her. She hovered a hand over Kaz's injury. Because she'd received no formal training, Karine didn't move like a Healer from the Little Palace might, instead moving her fingers in an almost casual half-dancing motion. Kaz's brow furrowed at the pain of healing. The affectation that it was nothing but an inconvenience might have fooled Karine and even Specht, but Inej felt Kaz's fingers tighten around hers as the bleeding slowed, then stopped completely. 

The Healer checked Kaz for any internal injuries and fixed those she found before they could become a larger problem. Only then did Karine leave her captain and the captain's mysterious friend. With a nod, Specht too gave them their privacy. Inej hated seeing Kaz this way as much as she knew Kaz hated being seen this way, laid out and vulnerable. "Karine won't say a word," she said. He already knew he could trust Specht. Kaz nodded grimly. "I'm going to clean you up." It wasn't a command. It was a chance for him to refuse the offer. When he didn't, Inej grabbed a bottle of water and a shirt. Mercher black was severe and suggested austerity. Pirate black hid blood and any other stain. Many wicked men's blood had tried to mar this shirt. What was one more? As she wiped away the blood from his chest, Kaz reached for a wooden pendant pinned to the wall just above the bed and twisted it between his fingers to get a better look. "Sankta Marya of the Rock," he observed. "The patron of those far from home." "It was a gift." Inej didn't know what, exactly, Wylan had said, only that Marya Hendriks got the idea somewhere that Inej had protected her son. She hadn't, but Wylan gave her that wide-eyed pleading look and Inej let Marya believe it, and Marya welcomed Inej like a distant cousin--a stranger, but family all the same. Now here was her patron. Inej supposed it was fitting; Sankta Marya had protected both of them just as much as Sankta Margarethe, the patron of thieves and lost children. If Kaz had a patron at all, Inej thought, it was Sankta Margarethe. "What happened?" she asked. "If I'm going to have an army of Ketterdam gangsters gathering on my dock, I'd like to know in advance." "I was stupid," Kaz replied, "and I paid for it." "I can see that, but were you very stupid? Was it an on-going stupidity? Or was it a brief lapse in judgment?" He sighed. "No one should be coming." Inej nodded. The Wraith always had a watch posted and this was no exception. Someone might come but no one would surprise them. She finished wiping away the blood and helped Kaz into another of her shirts. It was loose and easy to move in, not tailored as he preferred, but it would keep him warm and covered for the night. Then Inej took the other side of the bed, leaving space between them so there would be no accidental touching when they stirred in their sleep. As she listened in the dark to his steady breathing, Inej's mind drifted again to Jesper and Wylan. They shared a degree of physical comfort that fascinated her. Who would she be, without the Menagerie to shape her? She doubted she would be like Wylan. His touch was too quiet. Inej had seen Kaz bent over his work like Jesper after returning to university, and even without the Menagerie, Inej couldn't see herself going to her lover with a cup of coffee and a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jesper, though--she would not have been so boisterous as Jesper, who was constantly stating his love in every motion, whether that meant a surprise hug or literally sweeping Wylan off his feet. Inej did not know what touch would have been for the girl she was all those years ago on the shores of West Ravka. If that girl had grown in Inej's place, would she have a Suli boy now? An acrobat? A dancer? Would he hold her at night? She would certainly not have a thief lord. Maybe she would have been comfortable with his touch, trusted him with her body like Jesper and Wylan did. Tonight, she trusted Kaz with her because she trusted him to keep a respectful distance. === Inej checked in with her crew the following morning and aided in a thorough inspection of the ship. Any problems were best identified now and dealt with before they set sail again. Some of her crew were off-ship--she always kept enough hands available in case of emergency, but many chose to stay aboard, anyway. There were bad memories in Ketterdam. Inej understood. She found a seat on deck, her legs dangling over the water. It was a quiet day and she had quiet work to see to, and sitting here, she caught a hint of a breeze sometimes, the smell of the sea instead of the odors of industry. Inej carried a spare pair of trousers with her, a needle and thread, a patch for a nearly-threadbare knee and a quick seam for a tear. There was something to be said for the simple work of maintenance, sometimes. She didn't know how long she had been working when she heard footsteps approach, accompanied by the tap of a cane. Kaz sat beside her. "I'll wash your shirt," he offered. "And your sheets." He had bled some on those, too. "I'll send you a bill for the laundry," she replied. "Do you know who it was?" "Yes and no. I know who leaked information, and I'll solve that problem tonight. Just didn't expect it right then." Of course. His shoes. Inej looked at Kaz's bare feet dangling beside her own. She preferred to go barefoot, when she could. He had been forced into it. Despite the circumstances they could almost look like young lovers on a lakeside picnic, their naked toes dancing just above the water. Except that he was barefoot because he had whispered a rumor about his shoes. She wondered who he had told, and what. That they were lucky? That he kept his secret plans hidden beneath the soles? A whisper drew her attention. Some of her crew had noticed their captain sitting side by side with a man who had come out of her cabin wearing her shirt. Some of her crew had noticed that Captain Ghafa had taken herself a man. Let them gossip. It wasn't that far off the mark. Kaz continued, "I was lucky you were in the neighborhood." Lucky. The years had softened Ketterdam to her memory and they had softened Kaz to her, but they had not softened his armor. It had an Inej-shaped hole, that was all. And sometimes he forgot he was wearing it. She knew, anyway. The wind tugged at her hair just like a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He hadn't been lucky. He heard The Wraith made berth in Ketterdam's harbor, and he had come to see her. "I missed you, too."

[words-writ-in-starlight]

modern reincarnated song lan/xiao xingchen first meeting with both their memories back 👀

KIDS IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I WROTE A FIC TO PROVE IT (I’mso sorry Les Mis fandom) BUT REINCARNATION FICS ARE STILL MY JAM and oh boy amI ever going to make it the Songxiao fandom’s problem.  It’s also been a while since I postedsomething for that five headcanons meme, but I’m on lockdown and except for goingto the grocery store a week ago I literally haven’t left my apartment in goingon five weeks, so like, I’m officially still doing that meme.  Not QUITE the prompt, but a cousin of theprompt, and it’s 3:18 AM so you’re not my boss.

ONE

Song Lan remembers the very first time he sees XiaoXingchen.  Xingchen is eighteen, a yearolder than he was when they met before, wearing a white shirt and a messy bun, andSong Lan takes one look at him in a grocery store and almost knocks over adisplay of oranges.  It’s—a lot to takein.  Xingchen looks exactly like himself,like Song Lan remembers him from—from before. He’s talking with a store employee, a basket in one hand and the otherholding up an apple.  He looks apologetic,with the mild smile that he always wore when he felt like he was imposing onsomeone’s time, and he’s saying something about being sorry, but please couldhe have some help choosing.

Song Lan’s ears are still ringing and his chest is still aching andhis hands are still shaking, but his voice is clear and steady when he hearshimself say, “I can give you a hand.”

Xingchen turns toward him, a startled look on his beautifulface, and Song Lan’s throat threatens to close up on him, because Xingchen’seyes are a clear light brown more familiar than anything in the world, and theydo not focus on him.  He has a white canetucked into the corner of his arm—blind, still.

“I couldn’t impose,” Xingchen demurs immediately, and Song Lanshakes his head.

“It’s no imposition.  I—I don’thave anywhere else to be.”  Song Lan castsaround a little desperately for an excuse, a good reason for Xingchen to lethim help, let him stay under the light of that smile, and says, “I’m supposedto be studying for an exam and if I didn’t get out of the apartment I was goingto tear up my textbook.  You’d be savingme three hundred and fifty dollars.”

Xingchen laughs, then, and Song Lan doesn’t know what hisface does, but the employee gives him a mildly pitying glance.

“Well, I suppose I had better, then,” Xingchen says, warm andamused.  “I normally come with one of myroommates, but one of them is sick.”  Heholds up the apple to Song Lan and says, “I’m Xiao Xingchen.”

I know,Song Lan almost says.  He doesn’t.  He takes the apple and says, “This one isbruised.  I’m Song Lan.”

TWO

Xiao Xingchen, for his part, doesn’t remember for three weeks.  It’s a piling up of little things that weardown the wall hiding the past, for him, but the last straw, the crack that bringsthe dam down, is nothing at all: his roommates are usually good about makingsure to keep all the silverware in their assigned places, so that Xingchen canfind them, but that day, one of them, a study-abroad student named Morgan,forgets, and he slices open his palm on a knife.  She’s horrified and sorry and he has to talkher down from calling an ambulance, and she still insists on bandaging his handfor him, which he appreciates.  It hurtsand pulls all evening, and when he goes to sleep, he has a terrible nightmare.

This is nothing new.  XiaoXingchen has had terrible nightmares all his life.  Sometimes he even sees in them, which hewould find academically interesting if it were happening to anyone else—all thecolors are right, every line detailed and familiar.  He can’t read characters, but he knows theengravings on the swords.

It’s not a seeing dream that night.  It’s a dream about darkness and lies anddying, and there’s blood drying sticky and hot on his hand and sleeve when he sobshimself awake, from where his hand is clenched into such a tight fist that itseeped through the bandages.  His handfeels like someone’s laid a match to the cut, and he has a headache likenothing he’s ever felt, a bone-deep spike of pain behind his eyes, and he needs—

His hands shake as he grabs his phone and manages to pull upSong Lan’s number.

THREE

Song Lan has the gift of waking up to a vibrating phone—which isto say, he worked in retail for three years before he got into teaching school,and still has anxiety about it.  Thephone is already at his ear and he’s saying “This is Song Lan” before he’s evenawake.

“Zichen?”

“Xingchen?”  Song Lan issitting up and doesn’t really remember how that happened, and he’s staringwide-eyed at his desk through the dim city-twilight creeping around his darkcurtains, and Xingchen’s voice sounds ravaged on the other end of theline.  “What’s wrong?”

“I—please, Zichen, I—”

“Are you hurt?” Song Lan demands, and he’s already on his feet,the phone pinned between his cheek and his shoulder as he grabs whateverclothes are near at hand.  

“No,” Xingchen says faintly. “Wait—yes.  My hands—no.  Just my right hand.”  He makes a noise that sounds like it might,theoretically, be a laugh, if he stopped crying.  “I cut it on a knife, Zichen.”

Song Lan thinks about the world-ending feeling of remembering XiaoXingchen, and tries not to love the sound of Xingchen’s voice saying Zichenagain, and that moment, when he’s already dragging on socks with his keys inhis hand, is when he finally, finally catches up.

He stops cold, one shoe on. “Xingchen—do you remember me?”

“Yes,” Xingchen whispers. “I remember everything.”

Song Lan shuts his eyes for a moment and really, really hatesXue Yang.  “I’m coming over.”

FOUR

Xingchen’s roommates are not going to appreciate him having his “weirdfriend with the scary face” show up at three in the morning and waking them upby knocking on the door, but on the other hand, Xingchen knows he probablylooks…bad.  He knows he has blood leakingfrom his hand, and he can feel that the cut is probably worse than he thought,and he can hear one of them make an alarmed sound as he wavers on his feet inhis bedroom door, but then Song Lan stops knocking politely and startshammering on the door with the side of his fist.  Xingchen makes a helpless gesture with his bleedinghand, and hears someone fumble the lock open and immediately scramble back toget out of the way.  They’re scared ofSong Lan for some reason.  

Xingchen can’t imagine being scared of Song Lan.

“Xingchen,” Song Lan says, Zichen says, and Xiao Xingchenknows, like he knows his own name, that Song Lan doesn’t like to be touched,but he can’t stop himself from reaching out. He stops when he can feel the warmth of a body beyond his fingertips anddoesn’t go any further.

“Zichen.”

Song Lan’s hand closes around his bare wrist without hesitation,and he forces Xingchen’s hand palm up, and says, “You’re bleeding.”

“Yes,” Xingchen says, starting to laugh.  He’s not sure why he’s laughing.  He thinks he might still be crying.  But Song Lan is here, touching Xingchen inthe measured, intentional way he always did, and it seems obscurely hilariousthat he expects Xingchen to care about something as petty as bleeding.  “Yes, I am.”

“All right,” Song Lan says softly, like he’s answering aquestion that hasn’t been asked.  “Comeon, Xingchen.  Let’s get a look at yourhand.”

Xingchen hates to be led around by the hand, like a child, buthe goes easily when Song Lan pulls him toward the bathroom.  Song Lan lets him rest his head against SongLan’s hip, while those familiar hands dab blood from his skin and peel away thesoaked bandages, and Xingchen listens to Zichen’s low voice, and tries tobreathe.

FIVE

So, Song Lan isn’t going to class tomorrow.  He send the emails from the emergency roomwaiting area, on his phone, with Xingchen sitting beside him and holding asmall pile of gauze to his palm.  Xingchenhas been quiet since Song Lan announced that they were going to the hospital,but he went without a fight, admitted that the laceration was worse than it hadbeen before—from the clench of his fist in his nightmare, apparently.  His hair is tied back into a braid that curlsover his shoulder, and he forgot his cane, and Song Lan washed the smearedblood from his face and didn’t throw up at the memory of watching Xue Yang dothe same, and—

“I missed you,” Song Lan says quietly, and Xingchen turns towardhim.  All at once, all the things thatSong Lan planned and imagined and dreamed of saying are piled up behind histeeth, trying to force their way out in a rush. “I’m—so sorry, Xingchen. Everything—it was all my fault, I was so cruel to you.”

“Zichen,” Xingchen says, and he sounds so tired.  His head tips toward Song Lan’s shoulder, buthe stops, just like he did before, just like he always has, a little distancefrom touching.  Xingchen always lets SongLan be the one to close that last gap, always lets him choose how and when andwhere he’s willing to be touched.  Hedidn’t need it explained to him when they first met and doesn’t need it thistime.  Song Lan has missed him so much.

“I’m not—I never had your gift with words,” Song Lan goes on, somefeeling rising in his chest that he can’t name, something nearly frantic,because he’s not Xingchen, has never been Xingchen, has never had the rightwords at the right time even when he needed them most desperately.  He wrote so many versions of thisconversation in his head, before, that he can’t pick one now.  “But I—I am so sorry, Xingchen.  I should have done better by you, I was—I wasthoughtless, and you suffered for it--”

“Zichen,” Xingchen says again, weary, and Song Lan shuts up.  “I only regretted being blind when it killedyou,” he says, in a low murmur.  “When itkilled all those—and that—that was not your fault.”

“But—”

“Enough,” Xingchen says.  “You’reforgiven.  You were always forgiven,Zichen.”  He smiles a little.  “Besides, I should be the one apologizing.”

“I won’t listen,” Song Lan says, trying for humor.  He never did have the talent for being funnywhen he meant to be, but Xingchen smiles a little more.

“I missed you too.  Allthe time.”

Song Lan thinks briefly about kissing him.  Maybe later. Instead he reaches up and tips Xingchen’s head onto his shoulder, andsays, “Keep pressure on your hand.”

“It’s not bleeding anymore.”

“Good.  Keep pressure onit.”

AndXingchen laughs, with his cheek resting on Song Lan’s shoulder, and Song Lansmiles a little himself.

[ashes-and-ashes]

So I was thinking the other night about the parallels between many of my favourite ships. Lightning and Marauders was a piece about Drarry and Wolfstar but I was also thinking about how similar Wolfstar and Grindeldore were, with the same desperate loyalty between two people who would quite literally kill for each other. I did write something similar to this before but I like this one much better :)

Anyways, here it is!

~

The office hadn’t changed one bit.

Sirius spins in a slow circle, taking everything in; the floor-to-celling windows, the half drawn silk curtains, the spiral rugs on the floor and the cabinets full of glittering pieces of metal. He stares at the huge oak desk, all carved lions and leafy vines and grins, remembering when him and Remus -

The sound of footsteps cuts his thoughts off. Sirius tried to banish the flush from his cheeks, instead turning to watch Dumbledore enter the room.

He’s dressed in full Hogwarts regalia today, all flowing purple robes and silver stars. His beard is braided neatly too, all the way down to his chest, his eyes twinkling even in the dimness of the room.

“Sirius.”

He inclines his head. Dumbledore crosses over, sits down on the other side of the desk.

“You called, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore laughs. “You’re not at school anymore. There’s no need for formalities.”

Sirius shrugs. He slides into the chair opposite of Dumbledore, studying the surface of the wood. One hand taps an uneven beat at his side, alternating scraping fingernails and palm slaps. Dumbledore doesn’t seem bothered by this at all; he just continues to watch Sirius with a calm gaze.

“Sorry,” Sirius says, after what seemed like hours of silence. “What did you want?”

Dumbledore laughs. “Patience never was your strong suit Mr Black.”

“I seem to be doing alright without an abundance of it.”

“I suppose it’s even why I picked you to coordinate the Order.”

Sirius acknowledges the point. He stares at his wrists, the moon inked on the skin just above his pulse point. It was enchanted, to change shapes with the lunar cycle - right now it was a beautful crescent, dark against the tracery of his veins. He thumbs the skin absentmindedly, tracing the pad of his finger over the smooth lines of flesh.

God he missed Remus, so much that sometimes it hurt. Remus never even told him - Sirius had woken up one day to a cold bed and a note.

Si,

D sent me to Werewolf Camps. Don’t know when I’ll be back.

I love you more then anything,

Re

He clenches his teeth against the rising wave of anger slowly filling him. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They were at war.

It still hurt though, not being able to see, to touch Re. Almost 4 months later and he still hadn’t received any information.

“Really,” Sirius says, in the silence of the room. “Why the hell did you call me here?”

Dumbledore just nods. “Ah, yes. I just wanted to...talk.”

Sirius snorts. “You brought me all the way to Hogwarts just to talk?”

“I thought the act of speaking to you in your old home would help.”

Sirius shrugs. He yanks at a stray hit of hair curling into his face, tucking it behind his ear. “No you didn’t. You want me to do something.”

Dumbledore just studies him. Finally he tilts his head, fingers clasped together on the desk. For the first time Sirius imagined what those butterflies in those glass boxes felt like; metal driven through wings, pinning him down and tearing him apart. That’s what Dumbeldore’s eyes looked like - huge jagged pins that stuck Sirius to the ground.

Finally Dumbledore spoke, his words slow and low. “You don’t mind if I tell you a bit of a story, do you?”

Sirius shrugs.

Dumbledore leans back in his chair, regarding Sirius with that piercing gaze. “Well, once, back in my youth I...met a very special...someone.”

“Congrats,” Sirius says. “Who’s the lovely bird?”

Dumbledore smiles. “His name was Gellert.”

The words hit Sirius like a ton of bricks. He gasps, mouth hanging open and wide, staring at Dumbeldore’s calm face. “So - you and - “

“Which part,” Dumbeldore’s asks calmly, “Do you find surprising?”

“The fact that - you were friends with - “

“Oh.” Dumbledore laughs. “We were more then that. Much like yourself and Mr Lupin. We were arrogant and bold and brave and all we wanted was to change the world.”

“So you were in - “ Sirius chokes on his words - he can’t imagine Dumbledore as anything more then his celibate professor.

Dumbledore just raises an eyebrow. “Love? Yes. It was a whirlwind, a breath in the space of a summer and sometimes I wonder if we would have lasted had we had more time.”

“But it didn’t,” Sirius says, hearing the finality at the end of Dumbledore’s words, the hard slam of a door. “It ended.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “It did.”

“And do you regret it?”

Dumbledore just hums. He gets to his feet, suddenly looking very old, like the years had poured down on him turning youth into decay. “I can’t say I do.”

Sirius bites his lip, lets the legs of his chair slam down onto the floor. He winces at the sharp crack of wood against stone but Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind. “Get to the point, Professor. What fucked up your relationship?”

He almost expects a scolding, a hint of disapproval for the coarse language but Dumbledore didn’t look bothered by the swearing. He seemed almost contemplative, like he had been yanked years into the past, twisting and falling through memories in that way that was so familiar to Sirius.

“Gellert was...intense,” Dumbledore says and the way he spoke made Sirius’ heart clench. It was the same way he spoke about Remus, the love so evident in every word, the way the name sounded holy against one’s lips. “Certainly too much for others to handle. He was passionate too - he put his soul into everything that he did and when those things failed it practically killed him. I suppose that’s why he was drawn to me - we both had that streak of determination, fixation to the point of collapse. I loved him like that, oblivious to everything else.”

Sirius had an awful feeling that he knew where this conversation was going.

“And I let myself be blinded by him. I ignored all his faults, all his weakness, that vicious cruel streak and that calculating edge. I let myself be corrupted by the thought of what could be. It was only much, much later that I realized what he had done to me.”

Sirius stares at him in disbelief. “Oh,” he says, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Oh I see what you’re doing here. Let me finish the story for you. You realized who Grindelwald truely was and you left him. You became a better person, the most powerful wizard in the world and Grindelwald was consumed by his anger and his grief until finally, you destroyed him. Right?”

He refuses to drop Dumbledore’s gaze, his chest burning with anger. “Right?”

“Precisely. Although it was far less dramatic then how you describe.”

Sirius just laughs. “And now you’re going to start telling me just how similar I am to Grindelwald. The same viciousness, the same short-sightedness, the same disregard for the rules. You’ll tell me how I’m self destructive and unstable and how one day I’ll snap and drag everyone down with me. And - “ Sirius breaks off. “And Remus is like you, right? Pure and noble and he’s too good for me, I’ll never be enough for him. Well, joke’s on you. I already knew that. And unlike you I knew that right from the beginning - “

“There’s a few things wrong with that,” Dumbledore says calmly, shutting Sirius up. “Firstly, I never thought I was too good for Gellert. On the contrary, I thought I wasn’t good enough. That seems to be the trend with these kinds of relationships, self doubt on both ends.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Wonderful.”

“And secondly, you are both correct and incorrect with your statements. You are right that I’m using my own failed relationship as a metaphor between you and Mr Lupin. You are correct that I have assigned both of you roles, comparisons between myself and Gellert. But you are incorrect in your assignment.”

Sirius blinks. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Dumbledore says, “That you are more like myself then Gellert.”

Sirius blinks. “Okay,” he says slowly. “So this wasn’t a conversation about how I’ll turn into the next dark wizard?”

“No,” Dumbledore says. “This is a conversation about fatal flaws and the unquestionable loyalty between two people who love each other.”

The words hit him like a sack of bricks, hard and aching, making him gasp desperately for breath.

“There’s a spy in our ranks,” Dumbledore says, and Sirius thinks he feels his heart stop in his chest. “A spy who’s been leaking our secrets, our plans of attack.”

“No,” Sirius says. “It’s not me. I would never - how could you think - “

Dumbledore shakes his head. “On the contrary. I do not think the spy is you, Mr Black.”

“Then who - “ Sirius cuts himself off viciously. “No,” he whispers. “He would never.”

Dumbledore just leans forward. “I would like to know everything you have ever told Mr Lupin.”

[chaptersinprogress]

demolition lovers  |  7

“Need a ride?”

Ting smirked as she stood, "Sorry darling, where I'm going, you need an exclusive invite. Big girls only."

Sliding off the stool, Prae walked up to Ting and tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear, then murmured lowly, "Good thing you have me then."

Rating: T

Warnings: detailed descriptions of violence and a spot of murder

Pairings: Prae/Ting

Prae pulled up in the middle of the empty street, the roar of the bike's engine cutting off. In the dead of night within the industrial area, the silence pressed in around them almost oppressively. Unfazed, Ting unclasped her helmet and dismounted from the bike, shoving the protective gear at Prae.

"Thanks for the ride darling, I'll take it from here."

Prae cocked her head, idly running her fingers over the smooth plastic of the helmet she'd been handed. "Oh? How were you planning to get back then?"

"I'll probably call someone to pick me up," Ting said, shrugging.

"And leave you wandering these streets alone in the middle of the night? That's just asking for trouble."

As if summoned by the very thought, a group of teens stepped out of the shadows ahead. Bandannas and masks concealing their identities, they slowly advanced, carrying an assortment of weapons - glittering machetes, baseball bats, poles. Prae would bet her inheritance on a few switchblades being concealed on their persons.

"Well I'm trouble with a capital T, darling. This is my playground," Ting tossed over her shoulder with a smirk as she began walking towards the group. "You better leave while you still can."

Prae's lips curled into an amused smile. As if she could be swayed with a "warning" like that. Resting the helmet on the bike engine, she sat back and took the time to admire the vision that was Ting. The street lights glinted off her ebony hair, a braided scorpion tail with its swaying tip highlighting the provocative open back of her white blouse.

Eyes trailing downwards, Prae took in the toned legs in a forest green pleated skirt paired with black high-top Converse. Ting looked every inch of a college girl ready for a night out with friends, not like someone who went around getting into fights. But the self-assurance with which she went to face off her opponents spoke greatly of her intimacy with violence.

Definitely not your average girl-next-door.

Though it looked like Prae herself would be getting her hands dirty tonight. Ting would have greatly under-estimated her if she thought that Prae hadn't noticed the bikes following them as they'd made their way to their current location. And from the way their riders remained hidden as they crept forward to where she was seated, they certainly weren't planning on making friends.

Prae dismounted with a sigh. She liked a good challenge every now and then, but this was proving to be more of an annoyance. There were far more interesting things she could be doing instead - like watching Ting wipe the floor with her opponents, and convincing her that they should get to know each other more intimately.

"Alright, boys," Prae called out, pulling out her favourite garrote from where it had been concealed in her jacket. "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

Her challengers slunk out of the shadows. Three male teens, still baby-faced and soft around the edges. Two of them had sneers decorating their faces, a self-absorbed swagger in their steps as they twirled their baseball bats in an attempt to look intimidating. The last kid looked a couple of years younger, and had probably never been in a fight before if the way he desperately clutched the pipe in his hand was an indicator.

Prae scoffed, leaning against her bike. "Really? You're my opponents? You're not even worth my time."

Their leader sneered, a nasty curl to his lips. "Just wait till we start breaking your bones, bitch. You'll wish you'd kept your mouth shut."

Prae laughed. She slipped on her knuckle dusters and let the garrote hang in loose coils around her wrist instead. "Bring it, fucker" she taunted.

"Fuck you," the teen's companion spat and lunged, swinging his bat at her ribs.

Prae ducked under the swing and stepped forward, smashing her metal covered fingers into his jaw. The teen's head snapped back, teeth audibly clacking together. Then he crumpled to the floor, clutching his jaw and shrieking loudly through tightly-pressed lips, down for the count.

The other two stared at their friend's curled-up body for a second in disbelief, before turning back to Prae. Anger and astonishment painted the leader's face. He couldn't seem to believe that she had broken his friend's jaw so casually. His younger companion shrunk into himself, his pipe held in front of him like a warding talisman.

Prae gave them a feral smile. "Not so tough are you?"

"You fucking bitch!"

Leaping back, Prae dodged the bat by a hair's breadth, the force of the swing ruffling her hair. She slipped her garrote into her jacket pocket. The weapon was unnecessary. No need to risk accidentally severing her own hand by leaving it around her wrist.

The teen rushed at her again with a yell, the metal bat aiming for her abdomen, arms and ribs. Prae danced out of the reach of every swing, a wide grin almost splitting her face. Her body tingled with the adrenaline rush of just barely avoiding each hit.

The other's face twisted in an enraged snarl as he failed over and over again to win their high-stakes game of whack a mole, getting sloppier with each miss. He finally came to a halt - the realisation that he wouldn't be able to come close to landing a blow on her sinking in.

"For fuck's sake!" he panted, staring at her incredulously while clutching his bat so hard his knuckles were white. "Stay still and let me hit you dammit!"

Prae almost choked laughing at the ridiculous demand. What nerve! She hoped he wasn't actually expecting her to comply. She sighed.

"Alright kiddo, playtime's over."

And lunged. The teen's eyes widened as he raised the bat. But Prae had already slipped past his guard. One hand wrapped itself around his neck, the other was braced on his shoulder. Her knee drove into his stomach. His ribs. His side.

Pinned in place, the other could only take the hits, breath rushing out of him as each connected. The bat fell from his hand with a clatter, forgotten. Gasping, the teen twisted and turned in Prae's hold, desperately trying to escape.

She slammed an elbow into his face. As his head snapped to the side, she released him and lashed out with her foot. Her boot connected heavily with his chest.

The blow sent him stumbling backwards, arms windmilling. The male barely caught himself in time to avoid a broken nose as he collapsed face-first onto the asphalt. Body trembling, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees.

Prae picked up the bat and spun it, getting a feel of its weight and motion. Then sauntered over to the leader's side.

As her shadow fell over him, he looked up at her, wheezing. She smiled down at him. And slammed the bat viciously across his shoulder blades. The teen crumpled with a groan, and made no further attempts to get up.

Prae turned to face her youngest opponent. Resting the bat casually on her shoulder, she took a step in his direction. The metal pipe he'd held clattered loudly as it fell to the floor as he immediately raised his arms in surrender. Not that he had to worry. Prae didn't particularly care for beating up people weaker than her.

Unless they came at her first of course. Then she was very happy to put them back in their place, where they belonged.

Under her feet.

She gestured dramatically to the side with her free hand, very clearly giving the boy an out. The kid gave her a weak, terrified grin in thanks and began scooting away sideways. Then his gaze, which till then had been very firmly kept on her face, flickered to a spot just behind her.

Prae spun, bat swinging. It crashed against the crowbar that had been about to come down on her head, redirecting it past her shoulder. The force sent vibrations down her forearms, deep into her bones. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Prae retreated, keeping a few feet between her and the wielder.

The man, in his late 20s perhaps, cocked his head just the slightest. A slow, cruel smirk grew on his face.

On the other hand, any and all amusement had left Prae. If that blow had connected, there was a good chance her skull would've been split open like a watermelon. This wasn't a street brawl any longer.

She surreptitiously searched for Ting. Prae had assumed that this was some school gang conflict, especially given the age and inexperience of those she'd thought were involved. Worry crept into her as she failed to catch any sign of the other girl.

Either something had gone wrong, or her assumption was fatally flawed.

Prae turned her attention back to the more immediate problem. "Who are you?" she asked coolly.

"Doesn't matter," replied the man. "You'll still be dead."

Prae gave the man a considering look and nodded once. Puzzled, the man raised an eyebrow at her apparent agreement. She beamed at him, dropped the bat, and took off.

The unexpected action gave her a few seconds of a head-start. But her pursuer caught on quickly and soon started to gain on her.

Prae tore down the maze of streets, ears straining to hear the sound she was searching for until… there! Skidding into the narrow alley between two warehouses, she leapt. Her right foot slammed into the wall, muscles coiling like a spring.

Pivoting, she launched herself off the side, fingers grasping for the top of the lower AC unit on the opposite wall. The blast of hot air from the massive machine sent her hair flying into her face as she hung mid-air. Spitting out the strands, she pulled herself up, ignoring the searing pain in her fingers from clinging to the heated metal.

Her gaze fell onto the fire escape just a few inches above and to the right of her head. Reaching for the lowest rung, she smothered a scream as her burns came into contact with the cool metal. Scaling the ladder, she clambered onto the upper AC unit, a good three and a half meters off the ground.

Sitting slumped against the wall it was attached to and breathing harshly, Prae took stock of the situation. The shadows and the din from the machines provided her adequate cover. And while the noise, heat and vibrations from the units made her choice of seat highly uncomfortable, it suited her purposes.

Her fingers however…

She studied the digits in what little light there was. Judging the burns to be inconsequential, Prae pushed the pain from her fingers to the back of her mind. Retrieving her garrote from her pocket, she let the weapon hang loosely in her hands. And then she waited.

Not that she had to wait long.

Pounding footsteps which could barely be heard over the noise of the AC units heralded the man’s arrival. Thrown by his target's sudden disappearance, he came to a halt, just outside the alley. He spun on the spot slowly - searching for any hint of movement.

Nothing.

He stared down the narrow street for a moment in consideration. And then took cautious steps inside, methodically scanning the area as he ventured deeper.

Exactly as Prae intended.

Keeping sharp movements to a minimum, she scooted closer to the edge of her perch, silently swinging her legs over the side and bracing her feet against the grill. Muscles coiled in anticipation, she watched the man approach the AC units unsuspectingly.

And as he passed below her, she pushed herself off.

The man let out a startled yell as Prae crashed into his back, her elbows hooking onto his shoulders and legs wrapping around his waist. He stumbled forward under their combined weight, arms thrown out for balance.

Lightning-quick, Prae slipped her garrote around his throat and pulled. Jerking her torso backwards, she let her body weight draw the wire taunt. A choked off gurgle escaped the man and he frantically scrabbled at the wire. Staggering upright, he threw himself back, slamming the both of them into the wall.

Prae grunted loudly as the impact sending pain radiating though her body. Gritting her teeth, she inhaled sharply and twisted the garrote tighter, refusing to loosen her grip even a millimetre.

Panicking as his oxygen supply dwindled rapidly, the man kept ramming them against the concrete, desperately trying to dislodge Prae. She took the blows unflinchingly, even as her back grew numb and her burns flared with agony. His attempts grew more and more sluggish.

Then his body finally gave out.

Prae barely managed to disentangle herself in time as he slumped in a heap, catching herself above him. When she was certain that he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, she unwrapped her garrote from his throat and straightened up. 

And let out a groan as the aches and pains from the scuffle made itself known. Shaking her muscles out, she pulled her knuckle-dusters off and shoved her weapons back into her pockets carelessly.

"Well don't you look peachy," came the wry voice from behind her.

Prae nearly jumped out of her skin. "Fucking hell!" she yelped as she spun.

Ting raised an eyebrow at her from where she was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, at the entrance of the alley. Pushing herself off, she walked over to Prae and looked her over once, before dropping to one knee to study the man at her feet.

"Turn on your phone's flashlight, will you?"

Prae obliged, illuminating the duo. Grabbing a fistful of hair, Ting yanked the man's head up. And immediately let out a noise of displeasure. Prae watched as Ting took in the vivid bruising and indentations encircling the man's neck.

Ting sighed, annoyance marring her features. Flicking out a switchblade, she slit the man's throat, angling herself away from the arterial spray. Wiping the blade clean on the man's shirt, she looked up at Prae, expression carefully blank as she anticipated her reaction.

"Did you have to?" asked Prae curiously.

Surprise flashed across Ting's face before she stood up.

"It's practically an act of mercy after what you did," she said coolly. "His windpipe was crushed; he'd have asphyxiated eventually. You didn't have to be so particularly cruel."

Prae shrugged carelessly. "I supposed that's the difference between us. You're interested in a clean kill. My only aim is to incapacitate anyone after me. Whether it leaves them alive, disabled or dead, I couldn't care less."

Ting observed her for a moment. "Interesting," she finally said. "I hadn't expected you to be so caviler about it. Do you usually find yourself in such situations?"

"It happens every once in a while, yes."

Ting hummed before casually walking past Prae. "Ok. Let's go."

Prae glanced down at the body lying in a pool of blood before jogging after the other girl. "What about the clean-up?" she asked, catching up to Ting.

"Ram's handling it," she replied. "He should be on his way already."

Prae grabbed Ting's wrist, bring them both to a standstill even as she bit down on the instinctive flinch from putting pressure on her burns. "So what was that all about?"

Ting turned to face her. "Take a guess."

"Chao Pho," stated Prae. "I'd originally assumed rival school gangs but things didn't add up. It would explain why you and Ram are always around Duen, and the way his father behaved at the fundraiser as well. They're high up in the group, aren't they?"

Ting’s lips quirked up. "That's right. The question is, what are you gonna do with that info?"

Prae blinked before huffing a laugh. "Why would I do something? It doesn't really change anything." Her gaze sharpened. "But if Bohn or King get hurt, there'll be hell to pay, I assure you, mafia or not."

"You can try," said Ting, amused.

She tilted her head and stepped closer, her free hand trailing over the front of Prae's jacket before resting at her waist. "You know," she said, voice dropping to a breathy whisper. "Confidence is a good look on you. You look fucking hot when you threaten people."

Prae’s eyes darkened and she let her gaze drop to Ting’s mouth.

"Mmm, is that so?" she asked, her voice matching Ting's. She moved forward, forcing them back until Ting gently bumped into one of the buildings' walls. Releasing her wrist, Prae wrapped an arm around Ting while her other palm hovered above her hip.

Ducking her head, she murmured into the other girl's ear, "What do you plan to do about it?"

Ting smiled coyly and tangled her fingers in Prae's hair. "First,” she breathed out. “I'm going to take a look at those burns you're not mentioning."

Prae jerked back. "How did you…"

"I felt them when you grabbed my wrist, darling. It wasn't particularly difficult to tell."

"Right, you're a medical student," remembered Prae. "Well then. Are you going to kiss them better, doctor?"

Ting draped her arms around Prae's shoulders. "If you're good, we can do more than that," she teased.

Prae stared at her for a moment then laughed, the bright sound ringing through the air. "I'm going to hold you to it then," she whispered.

And dragged Ting close to kiss the satisfied smirk off her face.

[j-hoseok94]

Book:House of Cards

Author: ReyRey

01•02•03•04•05•06•07•08•09•10•11•12

TWELVE

Walking into school next to Jungkook the next day was.. interesting to say the least. All eyes were on us i mean literally everyone. We weren't holding hands but we were close. He lent me one of his earrings which i wore on my left ear. It was one of his black earrings with an upside down triangle arrow and a small black chain. It was cute and just subtle enough to show that we were together. I remembered back to when he gave it to me he said that it was the only way Yoongi would take his words seriously. I didn't wanna say no cause he did have a point. Yoongi would think he's lying to him but this earring would prove that it's "true". I mean i'm not really with Jungkook we hang out sometimes and only at school do we fake a relationship. He's gonna post a few photos here and there to kind of stir the pot.

As we were walking to class he draped his arm around my shoulder and for a moment my stomach clenched. I flinched slightly and i didn't know why. The reactions I've been having to Jungkook make no sense to me. It's like a natural reaction but my mind can't comprehend why. I was deep in thought when Aphrodite walked up to us.

"Well how is my not so favorite couple doing?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder and dropped one of her hips as she settled into her stance. She was the only chick friend i had and to be fair i still loved her bad bitch vibes.

Her tight clothes were fucking cute and i honestly wish that i had her style. She had on a black skirt with this cute little gold chain dangling from her waist. Her hair was braided back partially leaving some of it lose. Her eyeliner on point and i envied how they looked so symmetrical.

"We are doing fine we have hung out a few times but i feel like we might need some more public appearances." Kookie jumped in to answer since i was absorbed in my friend's outfit.

"Baby girl come here. We need to talk about your outfit choices mm mm." She grabbed my wrist and yanked me over to the bathroom.

"Whaa-What's wrong with my outfit? It's comfy." I looked down at my grey sweats and crop top with a very comfy and cute black zip up sweater. My hair was down and in loose waves.

"Girl you look like a damn bum, my wonder Yoongi hasn't asked you out. Where's your 'bad bitch.. imma break your heart' vibe that i got at the party?" I giggled and tried to keep from blushing. She pulled some cute ass clothes from her backpack and threw them my way. "Put those on with your cute ass. I'm bout to make Yoongi see what he's fucking missing. I'm gonna take you from cute to goddamn goddess."

She fluffed up my hair starting to pin it up here and there. She proceeded to do my makeup and she made it gold and brown colors to bring out my hazel eyes. Did my eyebrows and slobbed mascara on my lashes. I was wearing a red and black plaid shirt tucked into a black skirt with an attached suspender like straps with this cute chest harness type design. It was cute, it was a very flowy skirt and i wanted to twirl in it. I had black stocking like socks that went up to my thigh with these very sexy heeled boots that were white and tan suede.

I twirled and she watched me, she smiled, "Well my work here is done. He is gonna for damn sure want you girl. If he doesn't he's lost his damn mind." I laughed and walked out behind her. She stopped in front of me and i almost ran into her. "I present your newly transformed girl." She slide next to me and all i could do was stand there. The whole group was there Jungkook, Tae, Hobi, Namjoonie, Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi. I froze when my eyes settled on Yoongi i broke eye contact and looked down at the floor.

Jungkook was there now stroking my hair and moved my hair gently tucking it behind my ear exposing his earring. I know he did it on purpose just to trigger him but, it still made me uneasy just at the thought. He was close to me and my stomach clenched again, i couldn't breathe and i tried to focus on relaxing as i felt another anxiety attack creeping up.

I felt the familiar tightening of my chest as my breathing accelerated.I started panicking and i backed up away from Kookie. I pushed through the boys as my breathing started getting out of control. I ran past the familiar halls with everyone watching me. My tears started rolling as i reached the double doors to the back of the school i didn't stop, there was only one place that made me feel happy.

I reached the very empty and quiet music room as i plopped myself down in the middle of the room. I broke down, i cried and cried, i felt scared but i can't tell why i was just absolutely freaked. I tried to breathe and comprehend what happened but my mind hit a wall. "Why? Why am i crying?" I wiped at my tears and controlled my breathing. It was working and i slowly got my attack under control.

I stood up and paced back and forth. Something isn't right but i don't know what it is. I keep trying to figure out why the fuck i react that way around him. It's just him i don't fucking get it. I'm so frustrated not being able to piece together anything and just giving myself a headache.

I walked out of the room dropping the subject all together i didn't wanna give myself an even bigger headache. I walked to class shaking of my gut feeling that something was missing. Something i didn't wanna know, that was my gut feeling.

-Yoongi-

She ran off in the middle of one of her episodes. All i wanted to do was run after her, to help her through it like last time. I always want to be there for her. I instinctively turned and went to run after her, there was a hand on my arm and i flipped around. Jungkook was standing there with his hand on my arm keeping me from running after her. "Let. Go. Of. Me. Jungkook." I growled at him. I didn't care that we were in front of the whole school he was pissing me off.

He smirked that stupid smug smirk he gives when he's trying not to laugh at something he finds pathetic. "I can't let you go after her Yoongi." He shook his head as he looked down at me slightly.

"Why the fuck not?" I yank away from his grip, i get out of it but he just grabs my other arm. "Grrrr Jungkook! LET ME FUCKING GO DAMMIT!" I've never yelled at him in all the years i've known him. Through all his crap and fuck fuck games he would play with girls, i still never said shit to him. He released me with a shocked look on his face.

"Yoongi you've never spoke to me like that. What's gotten into you?"

I laughed at his stupid fucking question only anger rising in my chest and mind. "Are you fucking joking? Does anyone know what really happened that night Kookie? Hmm, or did you lie about that too? Do they know how you tried to rape Rose? Do they know that you tried to 'share her with me'? Do they fucking know how you played it off like nothing happened? Do i need to fuck you up again? God look at you. You can't even be honest with yourself! I hope, god i fucking hope that you try some shit with her. I will fuck you up Kookie. I will fucking beat you so hard you won't be able to see straight." I got up in his face and was pointing my finger at him. I was so pent up with anger i couldn't control it.

Before i knew it he struck me in the face i was against the locker. He lunged for me and i held him away from me by arms length. He was going for my throat but i was resisting him. I pushed him off me with all my force and he staggered back into the boys. They stumbled to break his fall but i didn't give him time to regain his balance. The boys pushed him back on his feet and he ducked as i threw my punch. He gut punched me and i dropped to the floor. 'Fuck.' I got up wiping the blood from my lip from the first punch. I smiled and laughed thinking of all the things I've been wanting to fuck him up for over the years. I stared him down trying to find a glimpse of my old friend, I didn't see him anymore.

I stepped forward as did he and i ducked avoiding his punch. Wrapping my arms around his waist i tackled him to the floor. I pinned him to the ground and i continued to hit his face he was trying to block but was failing. I got about four or five hits in before someone was peeling me off him.

I thrashed around trying to free myself from whoever the fuck was holding me back. Jin helped Jungkook off the ground. Jungkook wiped the blood away from his busted lip. He was staring me down and i was trying so hard to get to him. I just wanted to punch his face in. I spit blood on the floor not caring that i was being disgusting. He started laughing and i looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I finally have something that Meow Meow wants. Hahaha wow i'm gonna enjoy this. You're fighting for someone that doesn't even want you. She came to me, she's been with me." His words stabbed my heart as he continued. "She's been with me all week. She has my earring on..We're together and you can't stand that." He laughed again and stood behind Jin's arm. "Guess i was the better choice." He turned and walked off with Jin.

I shook off the arms surrounding me, which turns out was Tae, I turned the opposite way. I punched a locker as i passed by, ignoring the shooting pain it caused my hand.

I headed to my happy place feeling the absolute need to just be away from everyone.

Just me and my music. I loved her and she chose Jungkook.

XX

[zankivich]

Dad!Shawn x Black Reader x Black Daughter: No One - A Blurb

Warnings: mini smut? Absolutely adorable cuteness? 

Shawn was home from tour. And when Shawn was home from tour, Ella tended to lose her mind in the best of ways. She didn’t want shit to do with anyone except for her daddy, and you couldn’t tell her anything because she was gonna be with him twenty-four/seven. So when Shawn came back, you usually took a couple of days off work—a week if you could manage—and it strictly became nothing but family time. And that’s what you had done this time too. But the first day you went back to work, Shawn had assured you that he and Ella just needed one more day of no school or responsibilities.

“Baby, she needs me.” He whined. “I vaguely hinted at going to school last night while she was brushing her teeth and you should’ve seen the look she gave me. It was like I stomped on her poor, precious, tiny heart and then ate it.”

You couldn’t help but snort.

“You are such a sucker. That little girl knows exactly what she’s doing, Shawn. She just knows you’ll say yes.”

You were at your vanity mirror getting ready for work like a normal person while your husband draped himself over your shoulder in sweatpants and pouted. You had vague memories of your mother scolding you for, “being so soft on that white boy.” Maybe she had a point after all.

“I just…when I left for tour she was only five babe.”  He mumbled. “And I know we agreed it was time, but I missed so much. I missed baby teeth under pillows, and picture day at school. I had to watch her first dance recital through a phone.”

You noticed the look on his face that he tended to get when he was down on himself. His eyes were downcast and he was chewing on his bottom lip as his mind ran a thousand miles a minute. You were so incredibly soft on him it was ridiculous.

“Baby,” You sighed turning to wrap your arms around his bare torso. “You know better than to beat yourself up about that. We have done so incredibly well together. Ella loves to fly. We made the monthly visits. We facetimed every night before bed. And you did see her recital because you were right there for her. And that’s what Ella knows. That her daddy is always gonna be there for her in anyway that he can. You’re too good of a dad to get down on yourself.”

One of his curls flopped in his eyes and he looked up at you from under long lashes, exactly the way your daughter tended to do. Like father like daughter.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.  Now why don’t you go wake her up and maybe we can make French toast before I go to work…since the two of you will be home all day, I gotta make sure my baby gets at least one decent meal.”

He grinned at you and quickly placed an obnoxiously sloppy kiss upon your cheek.

“I love you so much.” He whispered tugging you up from your chair and to wrap his arms around your waist.

“I love you too.”

He pressed his lips a little more urgently against yours, his palm coming to rest along your cheek as he licked inside your mouth. His other hand bunched at the material of your robe only to pull you closer against his chest. Maybe you had missed a little something too while he’d been away.

Your fingers rubbed searchingly along his chest coming to rest at the hem of his sweats as he bit roughly at your bottom lip. Shit.

“Mmm really missed you.” He mumbled against your mouth.

Shawn pulled at the tie of your robe reaching inside to nestle his hands under the meat of your thighs as he pulled you up into his arms. You’d definitely missed that.

“Thought you wanted breakfast.” You sighed as he seamed to refamiliarize himself with the skin of your neck.

“I want something for sure. Can’t really put it on a plate though.” He hummed turning to toss you back down to the sheets.

Long, wonderfully orgasmic, story short, you were late to work.

And so when you came home that day, later than usual, after maybe not the best of days, one could say you needed something good to come home too. And your husband was always one to please.

You could hear the base radiating from within the house before you even put your key in the door. Shawn had had speakers installed in almost every room in the house. When he was writing he liked to hear the music in every way imaginable, tried to see himself in a variety of places, in a variety of ways, to make sure that the song made sense everywhere.

He’d also had this beautiful, black grand piano installed in the living room. Part of it had been for him, but you had a feeling he was gonna try to get Ella on piano and guitar before she even learned multiplication if he could. And so when you entered into the house that day, Alicia Key’s “No One” was blaring from every corner of the house it seemed. And Shawn was playing right along with her from the piano, while he and Ella sang like there was no tomorrow.

“No one! No one! No Onnnnnnnnnnnne! Can get in the way of what I’m feeling!”

Shawn was beaming at their daughter as she sat ontop of the piano kicking her feet and clapping along as her rockstar dad jammed along with her.

“That’s it baby girl, sing it out!” He called pressing down harder on the keys.

He did it with the exact same energy he gave every show. Like it was fifty thousand people instead of a six year old little girl. You loved that about him, that you both mattered that much to him.

“You and me together, through the days and nights! I don’t worry, cause everything’s gonna be alright!”

“Beautiful!”

You pulled your phone out, reaching to record the absolutely precious moment before you. You figured you would wait until the song was over to intervene, but when it immediately picked up again you had a feeling they had maybe been jamming to the same song for hours. If you knew your daughter, which you did, it was definitely a request she would make. And if you knew your husband, which you also did; it was definitely a request he’d fulfill until his fingers started to bleed.

“What is all this beautiful music I’m hearing?!” You smiled immediately scooping you daughter until your arms.

“Mommy!” Ella squeaked squeezing you back just as tight. “Mommy, daddy says I’m gonna be a singer.”

“Is that so?”

Shawn reached for the remote to the stereo system so that you might all be able to hear each other.

“I said she could be a singer if she wanted to. Our baby girl is already ten times as talented as I was when I was on vine.” He explained.

“Remind me to show you what your daddy used to look like when he was a teenager.”  You grinned.

“Haha very funny. How was work?” He asked fingers thumbing gently at the keys of the piano again.

You hitched Ella higher up on your hip to get her to smile and peered over at your husband with tired eyes.

“It was okay.”

That was code for, “please let me cuddle up on your chest and complain in bed later tonight.” He nodded.

“Well how about I make dinner tonight? Ella wants pizza. You wanna help daddy make a meal for mommy?” He smiled reaching playfully for her tiny foot.

Ella nodded her head vigorously. “Yea! Please, Mommy, can we make it for you pleaseeeeeeeeee?”

“Please Mommy?” Shawn added in.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, y’all. I will happily sit my tired self down on this couch and not move.”

Shawn stood and quickly transferred Ella from your grip to his. He leaned into your space, towering over you with his obnoxiously perfect face and convinced Ella to attack you with kisses. It had it’s intended affect. Your heart turned to absolute mush as the most important people in your life worked to make you happy. You smiled up at them with ease. They were both so easy to come home to.

“Can I get you a glass of wine maybe, sweetheart?”

That was code for, “how bad of a day was it?”

“Red, please?”

You hated the taste of red wine. It was absolutely terrible. But it got you tipsy quicker than white for some reason. Red please was code for, “not fucking good at all.”

“Coming right up. Sit down and relax, aye?”

He brings you a glass of red that was still cold from the fridge, because there was no way in hell you could drink that shit warm, and pressed a kiss smack dab in the middle of your forehead.

“We’ll talk about it after Ella goes to bed, yea?” He whispered.

You nodded softly leaning up off the couch to kiss him.

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Dinner is served to you on the couch with Ella sitting on your lap while you all ate slices of pizza and watched whatever animated film made her absolutely quiet at the time. When the food was gone Shawn lied back against the couch letting you slide snugly between his thighs, Ella following suit between yours. You pulled her hair from her ponytail and scratched soothingly at her scalp. By the time she fell asleep in your arms, and with the way Shawn was wrapped around you you almost forgot about the day you had. That was why you loved your family, because coming home always felt like home and not work. Well, at least most of the time.

“She out?” Shawn hummed nuzzling his head against yours.

“Yea.”

“Let’s tuck her in and go to bed, baby.”

You’d never heard a better idea. Going to bed before ten o’clock was truly the concept of a life time when you were an adult.

“Can we take a shower?”

“We can do whatever you want.”

You send him a smirk over your shoulder as you headed towards the bedroom, pulling your braids up atop your head.

“Don’t tell me that!”

In the shower, getting clean in the least of your worries. The way his hands grip your hips from behind is everything to you. The way he pins you against the wall and grabs your chin in his too big hand to kiss you absolutely silly, till you couldn’t remember your name let alone what the hell had upset you at work that day. Every time he pressed his hips against yours, or dug his palms into your thighs, you practically melted. Ugh.

“You’re so tense.” He mumbled pressing his wet curls against your neck. “Let me help.”

For Shawn, helping means falling to his knees and snuggling his head between your thighs,  oversized hands mapping the curvature of your breasts with ever flick of his pointed tongue.

“Damn baby.” You whined hips pulsing closer to his mouth.

He peered up at you with a wicked glint in his eye as he slurped from your being till you couldn’t help but squirm and whine and gasp. His fingers grabbed at the back of your thighs, digging deeply into the skin. And as his lips wrapped firmly around your clit he had the audacity to slap your ass the way only he’d ever been allowed to. It has you digging deep into his curls and grinding desperately against his mouth as your orgasm rushes through you.

You’re still panting against the side of the shower wall like a wet cat when he sidled back up against you and kissed you silly.

“Go get into bed.” He mumbled nipping at your jaw playfully. “I’m gonna make you do that at least two more times before you even think about sleep.”

You whined up at him as your hands mapped his body. How was it possible for someone to be so perfect and so loving and so…everything. How could he be everything, always?

“I love you.” You whispered

“I love you too baby. Come let me show you how much.”

And show you he did.

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Fire.2.17

The hot arid air of the Mojave Desert bore itself in the lungs of two men standing outside Clint’s Bar. It was an average biker joint, looking like a saloon of old stuck on the side of a highway going to a much more desirable place. The two men, some run of the mill looking bikers surveyed the horizon of the cracked and dried rock and piles of sand and saw nothing. The most activity they saw was a tumbleweed roll gently by them, carried by a wind that only brought more heat with it. Although the parking lot outside Clint’s was full, there were no noises coming from within the bar, but to these men that was normal. One of them took out a cigarette and lit it with his hands, coughing as the smoke filled his lungs. He then got a message on his phone, and looked. In almost synchronous nature, both men walked into the doors of  Clint’s Bar and locked them in their wake. 

All of this was seen and heard by a woman miles away, lying prone. She covered herself in dirt and desert weeds and held in her hands a pair of binoculars. Her blonde hair,colored to match the desert soil, was tied behind her in a practical braid. Her face, a light tan covered in more soil, was tucked under a hat with a shrub placed over it. For all intents and purposes this woman was hidden to any who looked in this direction, or even looked closely. She slowly shimmied herself back from the edge and took cover behind the backside of the hill she was spying over. Her hand reaches for a notepad on her belt, and she scribbles into it. After putting it away, she takes out a device. It has just one button on it, and begins tapping it in a series of dots and dashes. After this, she packs up, and begins hiking into the desert.

In the city of Cincinnati, there was a bank robbery going on. Terrified people ducked under cover as four giants ran down the street, chased by police cars. The crowded city streets were full of chaos, as these four giants were destroying parts of whole buildings and crushing cars. In the hands of each they carried bank vaults, the entire thing. They laughed uncontrollably, as when the police fired from their weapons they did nothing to pierce the skin of the giants. One of them, the presumed leader of the pack, turned towards another and yelled, “We’re gonna get away with this! No one can stop us!” Then, as his head was turned, a firetruck flew into his head. The giant did a full backflip then hit the road like a sack of bricks. The vault falling with a loud thud, and property damage, besides him. The other giants stop and look at their fallen leader with an expression of shock overtaking them, that is until one of horror comes. In front of them, floating several feet in the air to reach their eye level, was a muscular man dressed in blue jeans, a shirt that had a greek letter familiar to all, and a helmet that covered his head in its entirety. The helmet looked like that of a Trojan Warrior, with long accented faceplates and a netting underneath it to hide his facial features. The man had his arms crossed above his chest, and a booming voice came from his mask that was heard for blocks around.

“I don’t know how you thought no one could stop you. Don’t you read the news?”

At that the man moves at sonic speeds and spearheads another giant in the stomach, sending it flying back several blocks and into a large stone building, now unconscious. The other two giants drop their vaults and run, trying to flee, but are stopped when a dash of black and blue wake circles around their legs and they fall. Their heavy bodies hit the ground and, before a heavy punch is delivered to their heads, they see electrical lines had been wrapped around their legs.

Standing victorious over the giants bodies, crowds begin to cheer as they send accolades to the hero. Reporters run up to him, microphones ready and cameras rolling. “How did you know they were going to be here?””Is there anyway you could have caused less destruction?””Do you have any words for the people at home?””Will you attend the Colored Heroes Rights conference in July, as the most famous hero of color?” The man just stood there and said various nothings into the cameras, his voice quieter than when addressing the giants. “Damages are expected, I was just in the neighborhood, and of course I'm showing up to that! I’d be dumb not to.” He steps away from the crowds and picks up the giants by the wires holding them, rising into the air. “And for the people at home,’ he says turning his head towards the camera once more,”Stop committing crimes. I want to go home one day!” With that he became a blur and the giants were gone from the city.

A couple hours later, after the giants were delivered to the Ohio Powered Incarceration Center and the vaults given back to their banks, the man found himself sitting alone under a shady tree in the countryside. After looking around with a vision that extended for miles, he takes off his helmet. A short cut but neatly trimmed black beard and bald head greet the cool air with gratitude as he takes a deep breath. “Another day, another lock up.” He reaches into his back pocket and takes out his phone, and starts to go through his missed emails and whatnot, when he notices a notification from an app he usually never checks. Which meant…

He opens it up and examines the contents. They read: TRACKED-ETEAM-2-NV-STOP. ETEAM-IS-ALIVE-STOP. MORE-INFO-LTR-STOP. HEG.

He lowers his phone and sighs a breath of stress and anger. “You damned cockroach.” He stands up and grabs his helmet, and angrily puts it on. “No one does all this and keeps living.”

He then gets a call on his phone and answers. “Omegaman,” the voice says over the phone,”You’re needed in Detroit, danger rating 78%. Gravity monster.” Omegaman sighs and replies. “On my way.”  As he lowers his phone from his head, he looks to the skies.”I’ll get to you later, Emesh.” With that, he soars into the clouds.

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

“Oh my God mom, it's not that big a deal!” Jade sat in her living room while her mom played with her hair and sprayed something here, pinned something there, readjusted this and so on. “It is so! This is your first date in..” Jade’s mom paused, holding a can of hairspray away from her daughter. “Well, ever!” She resumed her pampering ,with Jade spitting as the spray got into her mouth. She was dressed in a white and red dress, and it was a stunning one. It had an open back and the red spiraled up the whole body while the white sparkled in the light. 

“It's just a dance, mom. It's nothing big!” As Jade spoke this, Joseph rolled himself in from the spare room he was staying in, a large purse laying across his lap. “Au contraire, Jade. This is the AHA’s summer gala. It happens once a year and you have never  gone to one and with your senior year coming up it will be your last one as well! You must go. And, you even got a date so that makes it all the better!” He places the purse at the side of the chair Jade is being forcibly fancied up in and retreats a safe distance from the cloud of product in the air. “Oh come on not you too!” Jade screams in mock pain as eyeliner is drawn over her face. “I don’t like makeup and -ack- Riley and I aren’t, like, official yet or anything so -” the spraying stops. Jade looks around and sees the very confused faces of the two adults. Joseph’s is far more confused that her mother’s, who is more disappointed than anything.

“Really? You guys haven't officially asked each other out yet?” Joseph was the first to speak, and it was filled with incredulous emotion. The fact that he was out and about as he was in the first place is a miracle, as his doctor had prescribed him several more days of bedrest(“I'm always sitting down, that counts, right?”). His voice has improved, and is sounding much like his old one.  It was because of this that Jade was the most taken back by his comment. “Why do you care so much? Isn’t shipping your students against the law or something?” Joseph gave a look of fake shock. “How could you! And no, it isn’t.” Jade’s mom speaks to her next, “Why haven’t you asked her yet, sweetheart?” Jade blushed and looked away from her mom, who began to apply more of the makeup she was carrying. “I dunno..just kind of hasn’t come up. There has been a bit that’s been going on.” Joseph coughed. “Oops.” Jade shot him a dirty look and he looked away, pulling at his collar in a joking fashion. “I’ll..I’ll ask her tonight. She said she’d meet me there anyways.” Her mom beamed when she heard this. “You know Jade, not too long ago you were a hot headed troublemaker who always got into the trouble,” Joseph interrupted with a “still is” and suffered a hit from Mrs.Laurens, “but this Riley girl has really done a lot of good for you. The least you can do is properly ask her out.”

Jade took a deep breath, “Yeah, you're right mom. That reminds me, “ she looks towards the clock on her mom’s oven. “It's almost time for me to go. Who’s gonna take me to the school.”

Joseph rolls over to the door, “I will. My car is outside.” Jade begins to get up, grabbing her bags, before stopping. “Wait a second.” Joseph gives great bellowing laughs, holding onto his wheelchair for support. Jade gives a harumph, obviously not happy to be the butt of the joke.

“Oh Jade, don't be like that,” her mom said, stifling a laugh herself,”he will actually be taking you there though.”

Jade looked at her mom, her turn to give an incredulous look. “How?” Joseph smacked his wheelchair. “We’re gonna take the train. Remember, the school has a lien that goes straight to it.”

Joseph opens the door and rolls out, looking back. “Coming?” Jade could not believe this was happening.

A few dozen minutes and a train ride later where everyone looked at Joseph more than her(which brought a great deal of relief, but a twinge of jealousy too) they arrived at the school station. Joseph got off, gave the finger to multiple people who asked about his accident, and Jade soon followed. “The nerve of some people,” she heard him mutter under his breath. He turned to Jade. “Now, go over what we talked about on the train.” Jade rolled her eyes. “Walk up to her, hand on her shoulder, ask her in my ‘manliest voice’ to go out with me. I just don’t think-” Joseph shhsh her. “Don’t think. It only makes things worse.” She gives a laugh, a nervous one, but still a laugh. A small smile appears on her face. “Thank you, Mr.Ellington.” She leans in and gives him a hug. “Now,” Joseph says after the hug is done, “I have to go to the teachers area to get ready for my round of chaperoning. I’ll see you in a bit. After the dance, wait for me here. I don’t want you walking the streets without me.” “I’ve done it tons of times what-” “Just wait for me. You’re a pretty teenage girl walking alone in a shit part of town. Different creatures come out at night.” She rolls her eyes. “Ok, whatever dad.” Joseph smiles and rolls off. “Have a good dance!”

A few seconds after he enters an elevator to take him to the school, Jade realizes what she said.Dad? She would have to think more about that later..some conflicting feelings have been affecting her recently. Thankfully, a good distraction just came off the next train.

“Well, hell-o beautiful.” Jade turned to see Riley step off in a spiff tuxedo, one that hugged her body. It's just about made Jade faint then and there. “Hh-hey! You ready?” Jade nervously stammered out. Riley walked up, took Jade’s hand, and kissed it like a prince. “With you? Always.” Jade’s plans went out the window.

[headoverjojo]

Hello, would you mind writing a scenario where kid Bruno saves a mermaid that got tangled in a fishnet and a few years later after he became a gangster he meets that same mermaid again and she saves him this time? (maybe Bucci almost got drowned after encountering a particularly strong enemy's stand? *thinking emoji*) Sorry for my broken english q.q

Hello there, honey! Absolutely not, it was so beautiful to write it! Thank you :3 And your English is perfectly fine!!

Bruno Bucciarati saves a mermaid when he’s a kid and then she saves him back when he’s adult

(Under the cut for length!)

Bruno always heard about sea creatures, from harmless talking fishes to dangerous sirens and various sea monsters. It was common among sailors and fishermen, especially when they shared the meal at the docks waiting for going to pick back the nets. Bruno, who always loved to go along with his dad, when he hadn’t school or homework, was enchanted by those stories and the other fishermen loved to tell him it with emphasis, barking out loud laughters when Bruno hid behind his father’s leg. Paolo always smiled at him, patting his raven hair, telling him that those were just stories, that mermaids, talking fishes and similar didn’t exist.

Then what was he watching in that moment?

While Paolo was carefully maneuvering the boat, Bruno was checking the nets. He was just ten years old, but he was expert, as his dad said! Paolo always said that Bruno, one day, if he would have wanted to, would have been a great fisherman. He recognized the sea currents, he knew the places where there was abundance of fish… he was a fast learner. And he preferred way more going on the boat with his father than at school. He was good, but it was boring; with his dad he had way more fun. And he treated him as a big kid! One time he let him even guide the boat, keeping his bigger hands on his son’s ones. The big smile that spread on Bruno’s face was worth everything.

And so, while checking the nets and taking small fishes, some shrimp, even some garbage, dividing it all in apposite boxes, a muffled “ouch” catched his attention. What was it? Was it dad? No, dad was in the cabin, guiding the boat… then what? Bruno quickly moved the net, all piled up on the deck and, under many, many layers of it, Bruno finally found out the source of the low complain.

He backed so fast that he stumbled down, falling on his butt. What… what was that?! His widened blue eyes reflected in big scared aquamarine eyes. The girl seemed to be more or less of his own age, but… but she hadn’t legs!! Where were her legs?! She had -oh god, oh god- she had a tail instead of legs! A fishy tail! As the ones of… as mermaids!!

Was that girl a mermaid?!

“Help… help…!” she choked, holding her throat. Bruno, even in his panicked state, noticed the grills on her neck sides. So… so she breathed like fishes! Oh no, she was out of the water, she couldn’t breath!!

Bruno immediately got up, running towards her, starting to untangle her long, pearly scaled tail from the net. Oh god, mermaids were real, mermaids were real… Old Luigi was right, he had always been right! He always said he had met a mermaid, when he was young, but no one ever believed him. But he was right!! Mermaids were real and- and he was helping one of them! His heart was on the verge of exploding. But it wasn’t time to lose himself in wonder: she couldn’t breath, she was about to die!

Not even for a second, in Bruno’s child and pure mind, passed the thought to keep her and maybe make money by exposing her in some aquarium or such. No, the only thing that Bruno wanted was to free her and save her. He just wanted her to be safe! And so he cut the net with his pocket knife, even if he perfectly knew that his father would have been angry at him for this. It didn’t matter. Her life mattered more.

Finally, her tail was free. She immediately swung it, as a fish, slapping him on the face. What?! He just freed her, hey!!

“Wait- calm down, calm down!! I’m a friend!” he hissed, kneeling near her and shielding himself from her tail. Hearing his voice, she seemed to calm down a bit. At least she wasn’t swinging like crazy her tail anymore. He smiled a bit at her, before picking her up, huffing, his face red from the effort to lift her. He stumbled a bit back, out of balance, then advanced to the railing and, with another effort, lifted her more and finally threw her back in the sea. The little mermaid fell with a pluff and for a bunch of seconds Bruno didn’t saw her. What, she went away like this?! Without even a bye?! But, before he could pout, here she was, resurfacing again and smiling at him. Bruno smiled back, relieved. She was fine! She also had something in her hand, he saw it gleaming at the sun rays. She threw it at him and Bruno barely catched them. He blinked, looking at the golden pins in his hands. Oh…

“There was no need to make me a gift, but thank you! Have a good life and be careful, ok?!” he said to her, smiling and waving at her, as the mermaid waved back and dived back in the sea’s depth. Bruno sighed, watching where the mermaid was just disappeared, then at the pins in his hands. No one would have ever believed him…

This was something, maybe the only one thing, that Bruno never told to anyone, even to his dad, who was the person he trusted and loved the most. It was something too special, too peculiar to be told around. It was something personal, a sort of secret between him and the mermaid. In the following years Bruno tried to find her again, when he went on the beach, on the docks, when he could go out with a rented boat… nothing. He never found her again. If it wasn’t for the golden pins that took at its place his braid, he would have even thought it had been all just a fantasy. But the pins were here, so it meant that also the mermaid was somewhere. He just hoped she was safe…

He didn’t know that his mermaid was nearer than what he thought. Always around Naples, always around him. The boy, now man, that saved her, years ago. The kind child that immediately thought about her safeness. His eyes… oh, she remembered so well his eyes. They were so blue, so sparkling. She was happy to see that his eyes hadn’t changed: they were still brightly blue, full of passion… full of kindness. The same kindness that saved her life. She was glad to see that, even if life hadn’t be gentle with him, he could have maintained that kind and gentle heart. Oh, she knew what happened to his father. She was the one who pulled back Paolo Bucciarati’s little boat to the docks, after he was shot down. She silently waited for Bruno, her friend from another world, but he didn’t come back for long, long time. When he finally came back, it was to take his few things and leave forever the small island, ignoring that the ferry was closely followed by a mermaid.

She always watched over him, from afar. She wanted so much to reach for him… she knew he hadn’t forgotten her. He still had her pins. Watching him from afar, however, was the most she could do. A clash of worlds… it would have been impossible. She should have just give up and go back to her kin, in the sea’s depth, and stop sticking around the coast, where the dangers were higher. But… she was still drawn to him…

And it had been a luck, in the end. It meant Bruno’s salvation.

She saw him arriving at the docks, but it was night. Why was he here at night? It wasn’t normal. So she stayed hidden, watching him hopping on a boat -or, better, opening a… how did humans called that? Ah! A zipper- and, then, nothing more. She waited, her heart was beating so fast that she couldn’t hear almost anything else. What was Bruno doing on that boat? Was he fine? She didn’t like it, she didn’t like it at all, she had a horrible feeling…

And her mermaid sixth sense stroke again, when she saw Bruno running out on the deck, panting, wounded. Behind him, another man. It seemed that they were fighting… with what she didn’t know. She knew that there was a sort of entity, near Bruno, she had heard him calling it “Sticky Fingers” and she knew that it could open zippers. But now, it seemed that Bruno’s Sticky Fingers wasn’t enough to win over the other man. Bruno was withdrawing, his back hit the railing. Her breath stopped, as her heart, for a long second.

She saw the man’s grin, one second before he shot against Bruno. She knew that those things were called “guns” and that could be fatal, for humans. A cry of pain got caught in her throat, as she saw Bruno backing more and falling down, over the railing, sinking in the waves.

She didn’t lose a moment, diving down and swimming at fast speed to reach him. She saw him, the hole in his shoulder, the trail of red that was flowing from it… his eyes were closed. He was probably passed out, he wasn’t even fighting to swim up…

She grabbed him, circling his middle with her arms, and swam up, fast, fast, finally breaking the water surface, keeping his head up, to make him breath, he had to breath!! Fortunately, he was spitting out salt water, while inhaling the precious air he missed so much. She sighed in relief: he was safe.

Still keeping him in a tight grip, she swam towards the docks, hoisting him on the quay. She stayed here, propped on her elbows on the quay, waiting for him to wake up. It didn’t occur a lot: after few minutes, Bruno’s eyes snapped open, as he took deeper breaths. He… he was safe? How so? The enemy shot him, he fell in the water, he didn’t have the strength to fight back and swim…

Hearing a small splash, he turned his head and his eyes reflected in a, oh, so known aquamarine eyes. The eyes he searched for for all those years, every time he was near the sea.

A smile spread on his lips, immediately mirrored by the mermaid. He slowly extended a hand, softly brushing his fingers on her wet cheek, gently tucking a strand of soggy hair behind her ear.

“I’ve never forgotten you. Thank you, for saving me.” he said, with a more mature voice than their last encounter, but as kind and pleasant. She smiled again, holding his hand on her cheek by placing on it her own webbed hand.

“I haven’t… forgotten too. You… saved me… last time. Now… I saved you. Thank you.” she still couldn’t speak a good “human”, but she had learned enough to form, at least, some understandable sentences. Enough to communicate with him.

He smiled, brightening, hearing her voice, so delicate, so peculiar. She brushed the pins on his head, a soft smile on her face.

“All those… years…” Bruno smiled, gently holding her hand.

“Of course. I couldn’t forget you.” his words made her smile even more, as her heart was swelling. She was about to say something more, when a voice stopped her.

“Bucciarati! Bucciarati, christ, where are you? Bucciarati?!” Bruno grimaced, recognizing Fugo’s voice. He missed the rendez-vous and Fugo got worried, rightly. He turned to the mermaid, a pained expression on his face. He had to go.

“I’ll be back, I promise.” he murmured, giving her a last soft caress on her cheek, before getting up. He looked at her one more time, before calling back to Fugo, meeting him at a safe distance from the point where the mermaid was… just that she had already dove down in the water. Bruno’s eyes lingered a bit more on the point, marked with wet signs, where he had finally met again his mermaid. Now they were even… a life for a life. She had paid her debt.

Still… he had the feeling that he would have seen her again soon. Really soon.

[gellavonhamster]

a simple life

gen || Bertrand Baudelaire/Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket || skips from pre-canon to canon timeline

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

Oh, if we led a simple life, For each my love I’d bear a child – For every man I cherished, Of each and every kind. – Veronica Dolina, Когда б мы жили без затей (Oh, If We Led a Simple Life)

“We need three children,” Beatrice announces suddenly. Lemony jerks up his head – the book he’s reading is not a most interesting one, but the volunteer who borrowed it from the library before him left a message in it by underlining certain sentences, and in his attempts to decipher it he’s managed to forget he’s not alone in the room. Beatrice keeps sewing just as if nothing had happened, and it seems like she isn’t expecting him to answer at all, but she would have hardly said it out loud if she had forgotten there was someone else in the room, like he did. So Lemony figures out he ought to answer; it’s only that he’s completely at a loss for words.  

“I am sure you’ll be able to crawl in there yourself,” he finally says. Beatrice puts away her handiwork – a new jacket she’s sewing an extra stash pocket onto – and gives him a puzzled look.

“Crawl where? What do you even mean?”

“Into the gallery. I take it you’re talking about the Friday mission. I mean, Jacques has already made sure that the vent shaft is wide enough for an adult to get into – not an adult of my size, but yours easily. So there’s no need to involve any children. By the way, why must there be exactly three of them?”

Beatrice rolls her eyes, having finally figured out what he is talking about.

“I marvel at your logic, Mr. Snicket,” she says quizzically, but it’s a good-natured kind of quizzing. A strand of hair has got out of her hairdo and Lemony wants to tuck it behind her ear, but in order to do that he’d have to get off the couch and go to the other end of the room. So that is how old age creeps up on you, he thinks absent-mindedly – here he is, unable to make himself cross the room for the woman he loves, and he isn’t even twenty-five yet. “No, I’m not talking about the Friday mission. What I mean is that you! And me! And Bertrand! We need to have three children. That’s all I wanted to say.”  

“All right,” Lemony agrees. It’s a dangerous topic for conversation, one related to plans for the future, and for the people of their lifestyle it is rather pointless, if not dangerous, to make such plans. But Beatrice has always spat upon danger – at least when her own life was concerned, not the lives of others. “Now?”    

Beatrice laughs.

“No, not now, of course,” she says. Her look of slight perplexity tells Lemony she hasn’t really given much thought to when exactly that should happen. “Someday. When the circumstances will be right.”

(And when they would have been right? Especially for the three of them, as she used to dream back then? That remained one of the million questions he never found to be right or wrong because he never got the chance to pose these questions to her. Just like “Why didn’t you tell me everything at once?” Or “Did you really think I shall love you less once I learn what the two of you have done, as if I’ve never done any terrible things myself and thought there was no other way?” Or “Why did you read Anna Karenina to your son, and why did you teach your daughter to use makeup to draw scars on her face? So that one day they would walk the same path as we once did, or so that they would know it well enough to avoid it?” What was she thinking, his Beatrice, selfless and whimsical and reckless and ingenious, when she was putting her hand on her growing belly, lulling her children to sleep, remodelling her pregnancy dresses or donating them to charity shops, braiding Violet’s hair, packing lunches for school, going to the bank to speak with that insufferable bore Poe, hiding safety matches from her children – not because there were any particular memories related to fire, any very specific notoriety, but just because playing with matches is a dangerous thing to do? There were some things he knew for sure – such as that all her neighbours used to like her, that she was considered a good mother, that she always remained the loveliest woman in the world – but not the answers to all these questions.    

And did she realize she turned out to be almost right? She and Bertrand had three children, and the boy looked so, so much like her. Of course, when he first saw the middle Baudelaire child in the photo, the first thing that caught his eye was glasses: Bertrand, for as long as he could remember him, always wore glasses as well; his glasses even were in the similar style. But the thick, dark, a little bit curly hair was hers, and so were the brown eyes, and so was the shape of the boy’s face. Did she ever remember that far-off jesting conversation while combing Klaus’s hair or fixing his tie, when she would cast a quick glance to the mirror and notice, without a doubt, how much her son looked like her? Or had that carefree day disappeared from her memory, forever gone where all those memories that bring nothing but dull pain should better go?    

He hadn’t forgotten. Ever)

“In some ten minutes it will be ready,” Bertrand tells them as he enters the room. He wipes his hands on his apron and shifts his gaze from Beatrice to Lemony, curious. “What were you talking about?”

“Beatrice thinks we need three children,” Lemony says.

“Why three?”

“See,” Beatrice points at Bertrand theatrically, “he understood at once what I meant!”

“I have no idea what you meant, but I hope it’s the same thing as what I mean,” Bertrand sits down on a chair covered in a jumble of clothes – his own shirt, Beatrice’s cape, and Lemony’s jacket, or maybe Bertrand’s jacket, for Lemony wore it yesterday and noticed that it is tight in the shoulders. It’s easier for Bertrand and Beatrice to steal his clothes than for him to steal theirs; if they leave that jacket hanging on the chair, sooner or later Beatrice will take it too. “So why exactly three?”

“Why, so one would look like you, one like me, and one like Lemony.”

“And what shall we do if any of them take after none of us?” Lemony cannot resist asking. “Suppose one of them looks like…” the words “his grandparents” freeze on his tongue. At times he isn’t sure if he actually remembers his parents, or it is just his writer’s imagination painting their images based on what Jacques and Kit have told him. The moments he isn’t sure about that scare him: what shall be called into doubt next? The memories of their farm, of the games he used to play with his siblings before they were taken away, of the first books he had read and the first melodies he had learned? Beatrice hasn’t seen her parents for twenty years. Bertrand has never seen his.    

“Give them up for adoption, naturally,” Bertrand says with a serious look, but in his eyes and in the corners of his mouth a smile is already emerging – the very smile Lemony loves so much.

(Oh no, he never forgot. How could he forget when each photo he carefully put into a folder, or pinned to the wall amid newspaper clippings and document copies, brought back the memories of that conversation? Three children – just as they discussed back then. And if Klaus Baudelaire looked just like his mother, then Sunny Baudelaire was a spitting image of her father. An uninitiated person could assume that it is too early to judge which parent the child looks like if the child in question has just recently started walking, but he just knew – even though Bertrand clearly was much older when they first met than his younger daughter was in all these photographs. Yet whether it was because Sunny Baudelaire was an unusual child in many respects, or because some features stay the same no matter the age (he refused to consider his own sentimentality as the possible reason), the facts stayed the same: the daughter looked remarkably like her father. The same smile – its shape has already been formed and promised to reach the ultimate likeness when the baby’s other teeth come through. And the bright blue eyes, and the fair hair – which must have been as soft as the one he used to run his fingers through many years ago.

Her father’s looks, and the name of the woman who… well, she did not bring both of them up, of course, that could hardly be counted as upbringing. For that matter, he wouldn’t have named the child after her, but that had not been up to him to decide: he had no chance whatsoever to participate in making that decision. Strange as it may be, he saw her in his dreams once or twice, eyeing him even more reproachfully that she always used to. Eyeing him the way that made him want to scream: yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say, it is I who should rather be dead, it was him who should have stayed alive, do you really believe I think otherwise? But it was no use screaming because it wouldn’t make him feel better, and that woman was long gone anyway. Even she was gone too.        

And Sunny Baudelaire learned to cook early; just in case there was any need for another evidence of how much she resembled her father)  

“Oh, screw you,” Beatrice waves him off. “I’m describing an ideal situation, get it? An i-de-al one!”

“I guess three children would be ideal indeed for our, hmm, situation,” Lemony observes. He thinks all this talk amusing, despite the topic lying close to dangerous grounds. It is an incredible stroke of serendipity to find a book that makes one feel as if it was written just for them, or a song that sounds as if it was their soul transformed into music, or even a dish one would like to keep ordering in each and every restaurant, knowing one shall never get enough of it. Yet the greatest luck possible is finding people that one can talk about anything with, spend as much time with as one can, and feel surely willing to spend one’s whole life like that, with them. Certainly there is a more appropriate word to describe this than ‘serendipity’ or ‘luck’, but for volunteers that is a dangerous ground too,  and Lemony never says it out loud, keeps it in his mind like a dragon guarding a treasure, hoping that Beatrice and Bertrand do not need any words to understand how he feels.      

“I hope you’re not suggesting there would be one child per each of us to raise,” Beatrice says. “Or we’re splitting the breastfeeding duties too.”

“I guess Snicket means that in case of divorce each of us could take one of the kids,” Bertrand suggests merrily.

Lemony salutes him. “Exactly. The question is how we’re going to split them up, should the need arise.”

“Ask each of them who they would like to stay with?”

“Out of question. Too progressive. It is the notions like thith,” Beatrice starts to lisp on purpose and both of them laugh as they understand at once which one of the older volunteers she’s mocking, “that are poisoning our society! No,” she continues in her normal voice, “I suggest we draw lots. Write their names on the slips of paper, put them in a hat, well, you know the drill.”  

“And then you’ll be the one complaining when you don’t get the kid you like the most,” Bertrand winds her up. Beatrice takes a spool out of her sewing basket and hurls it at him.

“How dare you imply,” she says, her voice dramatically offended, “that I won’t love all our children.”

Bertrand, who has managed to catch the spool before it hit his forehead, smiles.

“Relax,” he says, placating. “I’m just messing with you. I do not doubt that you will. And I will love them all, too.”

“And so will Lemony,” Beatrice says. She sits back in her chair and looks at Lemony with a smile, and suddenly he realizes that despite all the jokes and hyperboles, this conversation is very serious and important.

“And so will I,” he says quietly. “With all my heart.”

(And then there were lies, libel, a hasty escape, accusations, letters, telegrams, a faked death, and then another one and another one and loneliness and stalking and the inability to simply call and say he missed them – and then death again. Not his anymore, but this time it was real. And there were manuscripts in thick envelopes and hiding places and safes, and there was the Editor’s tired voice on the phone, thirteen books and the smell of fresh printing ink, but there was no Beatrice and no Virgil – only memories. Like this one: just another ordinary evening, just another light-hearted conversation. Yes, absolutely light-hearted. What they were joking about back then could never come true, and if some parts of it did, then never completely. But there was something about the face of Violet Baudelaire that distinguished her both from her father and from her mother – never mind that she could be mistaken for Beatrice from afar, as confirmed by many guests who attended that horrible cancelled wedding; never mind that she used to tie her hair up with a ribbon just like Bertrand once used to.  

Violet Baudelaire was fifteen years old. Fifteen years ago a lot of things used to be different.

He was afraid to study her face too closely)