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butternuggets-blog · 4 years ago

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OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @lady-lazarus-declermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @adowbaldwin @profoundme444

Part Eight

Summary: Baldwin de Clermont manages to upset an ancient hag. He wakes up.. different.

'Mummy, may I please feed Apollo some fish?' asked Philip.

Diana and Matthew shared a glance. They had known this day was coming, but they didn't have to like it.

'Apollo?' Gerbert and Domenico echoed.

Baldwin sighed and hid his bowl of porridge beneath the table as Diana plastered a cheery smile on her face and nodded.

'Of course darling'

The griffin burst from Philip’s side onto the table, scattering plates and flipping Domenico’s scrambled eggs into his lap. Philip dissolved into a gale of laughter, while Gerbert watched the familiar with a mixture of awe and poorly-disguised greed.

‘AH-AH! Down!’ Diana frowned, sternly pointing her finger towards the floor. Phillip smiled and patted the side of his chair.

‘ ’Pollo, sit!’ the familiar perked up at the sound of its name and leapt across to squat beside its master. Phillip dropped some of his sardines into Apollo’s gaping mouth; the griffon chewed delicately on them, then swallowed.

‘And do you have a familiar?’ Gerbert asked, voice dripping with syrupy sweetness as he turned towards Rebecca. She stared at him over her cereal.

‘A pterodactyl’

Domenico let out a loud snort of derision.

‘Yeah, right’

He glanced Baldwin, then Diana and Matthew, as the silence stretched.

‘..right?’

The snowfall in Sept Tours had been unusually heavy that year. Both the castle and the surrounding village were covered in white, long thin icicles hanging from the edges of roofs and cars being swallowed up by snowdrifts.

The twins had been barred from going outside until Marthe borrowed Apollo and Corra, using them like intelligent flame-throwers to melt the iced-over pathways through the gardens. Now Becca was running around trying to find her bobble hat and gloves; Phillip was hopping awkwardly as he tried to pull on his boots and wrap his scarf around his neck at the same time.

Baldwin would never admit it, but for the last few weeks he had been using Diana as a human weather barometer. If she looked outside in the morning and decided to wear a coat, Baldwin would quietly copy her.

He didn’t have to today. Marthe had been on a shopping spree, and dropped off a thick black coat, beanie, gloves and scarf. She’d bought similiar items for Gerbert and Domenico as well, although instead of a beanie, Gerbert was sporting a russian-style fur hat with earflaps.

The twins went hurtling out the front door, screaming with delight and launching themselves face-first into the nearest snowdrift. Domenico slipped on the slick pavestones almost immediately, reflexively grabbing the back of Baldwin’s jacket as he fell, dragging Baldwin down with him.

Gerbert chuckled as the two men, cursing loudly, untangled themselves.

‘Be careful; you wouldn’t want to break something would you?’ he smiled. Baldwin ignored him and headed off after the twins, while Domenico paused, a slow grin spreading across his face.

‘Don’t you da-’

‘Oops!’ Domenico spun Gerbert’s wheelchair around and pushed. It sailed forwards a good metre or so before careening wildly off the path and into a mound of snow.

Gerbert let out an indignant scream of fury but it was muffled by a mouthful of ice. Coughing and spluttering, he managed to half-crawl forward on his elbows until he could turn onto his back, facing up towards the sky. Now he just had to get up the energy to flip the wheelchair off him.

‘Oh, that’s disgusting!’ he grimaced as the snow that had slipped down the back of his jacket began to melt. He spread his arms out and tried to wriggle so that the moisture warmed up and evaporated faster.

The ghost of his childhood suddenly giggled in his ear. If he scraped his arms up and down, then-

No. That was idiotic.

...still...

Gerbert craned his head forward. There was no one else around.

If anyone spotted the impressions in the snow he could pass it off as him flailing, trying to push himself up.

He checked again. No one was watching.

Gerbert chuckled quietly to himself, and made a snow angel.

***

In spite of himself, Domenico was actually having a lot of fun.

He had reluctantly, then enthusiastically, helped Phillip make a snowman (Becca and Baldwin’s snowman was three times smaller, but much smoother and compact), then halfway through setting up a tobogganing jump and a small igloo Domenico managed to sneak up behind Baldwin and dump a handful of snow down his back.

The garden would be his grave.

While Baldwin frantically built a miniature Hadrian’s wall, Becca rolled snowball after snowball, reaching cautiously above the barricade to lob them at Domenico and her brother. They were bunkered down in a shallow crater, having forgone proper shielding in order to focus on making ammunition.

‘Slightly to the left Rebecca!’ Gerbert called out. He had wheeled himself to the top of the toboganning jump and was parked there, occasionally shouting advice.

‘SHUT UP OLD MAN!’ Domenico pegged a snowball towards Gerbert; the shot went wide, sailing over Gerbert’s head. He ducked down to avoid a snowball to the face from Baldwin, and whispered in Philip’s ear. The boy nodded enthusiastically, giggling.

There was a loud swooshing noise and Apollo launched into the air, bee-lining towards the other fort.

‘AERIAL ASSAULT!’ Philip and Domenico screamed. Baldwin swore and threw himself over Becca, who looked absolutely furious. Apollo made a noise like a cat being sick, and a volley of snow balls rocketed down, thudding into Baldwin’s back.

Becca, wriggling a hand out from beneath her uncle, aimed carefully. A column of fire suddenly erupted beneath Apollo, lightly singeing its feathers and sending the startled griffin pinwheeling back towards its master, shrieking loudly.

Marthe ambled into view, serenly taking in the chaos before her.

‘Lunch time!’

Gerbert wheeled himself back towards the castle, the twins and Baldwin shoving each other and arguing as they trailed along in his wake. Domenico, staying behind for a moment to pretend to re-tie his shoes, glanced furtively around to make sure no one was watching, lay down on the ground, and gave into the childish urge that had been buzzing around the back of his skull for the last hour and made a snow angel.

****

The tobogganing slope worked well. Really, really well.

Too well.

It had originally been a giant mound of snow, compacted by hand and shovel. There were pockmarks and it crumpled slightly around the edges after each use, but it held itself together.

Then Pip froze it.

Now there was a solid, nearly indestructable toboggan slope-shaped iceberg sitting in the middle of the lawn. Pip had immediately rushed to the top; the speed with which he went whizzing off the end was enough to launch the toboggan into the air and carry him an extra five metres, cackling hysterically.

Baldwin went and fetched the riding helmets.

After that there was no stopping the twins. Becca and Pip pushed themselves off the top of the slope more and more aggresively, while Domenico pushed a series of makeshift treebranch markers into the ground to see who’s toboggan flew the farthest.

Pip even extended the top of the slope so they could get a running start. In hindsight, this was absolutely the moment Baldwin should have put his foot down and been the responsible adult, but he had a two metre lead on Domenico and wasn’t about to let that crawly little git win.

Hence, the snow shoes.

Baldwin strapped the metal spikes to the bottom of his boots, careful not to cut himself. He put his toboggan on the slope in front of him, ground his heels into the ice, and tensed.

‘Ready..’ Becca raised her mittened hand in the air, ‘Set....GO!’

Baldwin sprinted forward, throwing himself onto the toboggan as just as it tipped over the edge. The extra boost of power from the jump caused the toboggan to shoot forward, gathering speed at an alarming rate until it reached the end of the slope and launched into the air.

‘OOF!’ Baldwin gasped as the breath was knocked from his lungs, the toboggan landing hard on a frosted-over patch of ground. Marker after marker whizzed past, the twins chanting and whoops of joy turning into concerned yells as Baldwin overshot the final marker and went careening up and over a hill, straight into the treeline.

Baldwin grit his teeth, cursed, and pulled on the brakes. He missed a rapidly approaching oak but the toboggan flipped, throwing him clear. He went rocketing into a hedge, skidding to a stop on the other side bruised, bleeding, and lying half-buried in a snowdrift, but alive.

‘Ow..’

He flexed his fingers and toes; nothing seemed broken. Relieved, and slightly out of it, he gingerly spread his arms and did a small snow angel to celebrate.

Author’s Notes

- Luna the pterodactyl is not canon in this story. Becca was f**king with her new uncles ^^

- I don’t think familiars in the ADOW universe can breathe elements, but I don’t care

- Marthe and Alain have zoom-lens cameras and absolutely took photos of Gerbert, Domenico and Baldwin making snow angels XD

#adow spoilers #adow #baldwin de clermont #baldwin montclair #philip bishop-clairmont #rebecca bishop clairmont #rebecca bishop-clairmont #domenico michele #gerbert de aurilliac #a discovery of witches #all souls trilogy #all souls series

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

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How about Solomon Burkes Cry to me for Ethan and MC? Specifically the lines 'loneliness is such a waste of time' And 'Come on take my hand and baby won't you walk with me'

i tried really really hard to write fluff....

Midnight Loneliness

Word Count: 2.1k Warning: fluff 🤷🏻‍♀️ Summary: This takes place after the kiss outside Ethan’s apartment in OHSY Chapter 8.

A/N: I attempted fluff. Please be gentle it’s not my forte.

________________________________________

Becca had left Ethan’s apartment in her ride-share a little over two hours ago. Her head was still dizzy from their kiss - their first kiss in months. A kiss Ethan Ramsey initiated. She felt high and completely weightless, like she was dancing through the evening on a cloud and no amount of darkness could bring her down. Becca wasn’t dreaming; if his actions told her anything it’s that Ethan still feels something for her and all these months of waiting and tiptoeing were all worth it for a few moments of unsullied bliss.

After her shower and settling into her bed for the evening with the biggest grin still plastered on her face. Becca unlocked her phone to look at the candid picture she had taken earlier of Ethan standing in front of his stove with the dish towel draped over his shoulder and the smile from her ‘heat’ joke still present on his lips. It was a snapshot of a happier Ethan, of a happier life they pretended to have for a few sacred moments. With her teeth digging into her swollen lip, and against her better judgment, she texted him.

She wanted to make a joke and then bring up the kiss, but knew better. She knew savoring the moment was a luxury she needed to afford because one wrong move and he’d be gone to her again. Becca wanted to hold onto this sliver of clarity for as long as possible.

They sent the next message at the same time;

When he didn’t respond right away she decided to try and provoke a response.

Becca: Are you lonely, Dr. Ramsey?

Still, minutes passed without a sarcastic or curt response to her promiscuous message. She assumed he was cleaning up from the evening and getting ready for bed. Ethan is pushing 40 after all.

With great excitement Becca bolted out of bed. She threw on the closest items of clothing she could find; black workout leggings with mesh cutouts, her over-sized UCLA pullover hoodie and her trusty ADIDAS sneakers. As quickly as she could she threw her phone in her pocket after making sure her debit card and I.D. were still in the case. As she made her way out the door she threw her still damp hair into a messy bun. If her roommates called after her Becca didn’t hear them.

His black sedan was sitting at the curb right out front of her building. In a few eager hops she slid into the leather seat through the awaiting unlocked door.

“Wouldn’t think of you as a spontaneous man, Dr. Ramsey,” Becca smiled as she buckled herself in for a thrilling evening.

Ethan hadn’t looked at her since she entered the car, his attention fixated on the gearshift and their destination ahead.

“I have my moments, Rookie.”

She cocked her head to see the faintest smirk gracing his features in the dark car and illuminated by the warm glow of the passing streetlamps. “How many more surprises could you pack into one evening?”

They drove for what seemed to be too long to be heading back to his place. Actually, Becca wasn’t sure they were going back to his apartment at all. None of these streets seemed familiar.

“Where’re we going?”

“You’ll see. Patience, Rookie.”

Becca rolled her eyes but couldn’t be mad. This little excursion was exhilarating and it had barely even started yet!

They were driving closer to the water, the road illuminated with bright white flood lights. Looking over she could see Ethan more clearly now. He was in light blue jeans and a faded navy blue zip-up hoodie that she was sure accentuated his crystal clear eyes. Her eyes traveled up from his body and to his face just under his still nearly-perfect wispy hair. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were a type of heavy she hadn’t seen since… since Naveen almost died.

“Were you crying?” Becca asked with a deep and heavy heart.

His response was low and flat, a typically Ethan deflection, “That obvious?”

Becca was an aspiring diagnostician with amazing intuition, and not to mention she knew Ethan better than he’d like to admit.

“Your eyes are still a little red,” she told him. She bit her lip and sat on her hands as she toyed with asking, “What happened?”

Quickly he dismissed, “It’s fine.” Becca naturally gave him a look; she didn’t think he would notice as they drove along the coast. But he knew it was coming. Ethan did know her inherent reactions whether either of them realized it or not. “We spoke about the concerns I told you about earlier.”

She knew there was more that he wasn’t telling her. Ethan very seldom opened up about his vulnerability and she felt she was privy to enough of his secrets for one day. Boldly, Becca wrapped her hand around his resting on the gearshift. Ethan let her fingers fall between his. Holding on tightly he brought their hands up to place the faintest of kisses on the back of her hand. The fresh smell of coconuts and a clear day lingering on her skin that was so distinctly Becca were soothing his woes with every breath.

Her eyes fluttered closed the second his lips met her skin. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly, afraid of ruining the moment. “I’m here, whenever you need to vent.”

“I know.” Ethan rotated their hands so he could fully keep her safely within his own. In that moment Ethan wanted to say something, the most important of somethings.

“Rebecca…”

But he didn’t get the chance. She felt it coming.

“I know.”

They held onto one another just a bit tighter.

The next ten minutes of the ride passed in comfortable silence. Becca looked out the window as they turned onto a darker side road and into a desolate parking lot. There were only two other cars save for them and it seemed like a few teenagers were… doing what teenagers do. Briefly Becca recalled all the evenings she spent dilly dallying with her friends in mall parking lots during high school. What could Ethan possibly have in store for them?

He parked in the far corner away from the teens and closest to the grassy park. Becca sat there stunned as Ethan got out of the car. He let out a small chuckle after he opened her door when she looked up at him with furrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose.

“Come,” He held his hand out for her to take.

She raised her eyebrow further to the sky - It’s the middle of the night and they’re in an empty parking lot. What is going on?

“Won’t you walk with me, or do you have other plans?”

Brown met playful blue, “Promise you’re not going to murder me in a bush.”

“If I was going to murder you, I wouldn’t do it out in the open,” Ethan scoffed. He tried to be stern but his smile betrayed him.

“That’s…” she undid her seat-belt slowly and shook her head, “Not reassuring at all.”

“Rookie, lets go.”

That was all the push she needed.

Happily, her laced fingers held onto him securely as they walked through the parking lot to a patch of grass leading to the water. Becca wanted to stop and take in the peaceful scene before them - a rare moment to find in a bustling city, but Ethan pulled her along.

They walked along the receding shore and climbed over a few large rocks and a jetty. They did so in silence. Ethan was on a mission to get to the perfect spot and Becca was too excited to ruin the moment.

Eventually they made it to another patch of grass hidden in the midnight spring air. The area was almost pitch black save for three muted streetlights in the distance. Ethan halted their movements and she took the hint.

“A lighthouse?” she questioned as she continued taking in their surroundings. Becca pointed to an empty parking field not too far from the large striped building. “Why didn’t we just park up next to it.”

“It’s private property,” he told her matter-of-factly. “But here,” he motioned with his arms to the few meters of grass around them, “because of codes this little patch of grass is part of the public park we just trekked through.”

Becca was still confused as to what they’re doing here.

Ethan pointed to the sky and all the stars in their full glory, “It’s one of the least light polluted spots in the city.”

She used her pointer finger to point past Ethan and to the very obvious lighthouse. Logic told her that the space was going to be polluted with light - that’s a lighthouse’s job, after all.

“What’s that lighthouse missing, Rookie?”

She squinted as if thinking. Then it clicked. “A light…”

“Exactly.” He instructed, “Look up.”

There were agile flecks passing through the sky quickly. If Becca dared to blink she’d miss it.

Ethan watched her as she looked up in wonderment. “Meteor shower,” he explained tenderly with a squeeze of their hands.

“Make a wish,” she whispered back.

For a second Becca let herself close her eyes and wish the greatest wish of all. Her heart’s greatest wish.

Ethan wrapped his arms around her petite frame, resting his head closely against hers. They stood in comfortable silence as this once in a lifetime event occurred. They savored one another for as long as their legs and craned necks would allow. After a few moments in their embrace he pulled them down to the ground for a fuller view of the expansive darkness above them. His arm stayed around her and she was tucked at his side. Her head rested on his chest. Everything was simply comfortable.

Becca wanted to know how he came across this place. She wanted to really know why he picked her up and what their kiss earlier meant. She wanted to know if he wished for the same thing she did on one of the shooting stars. But she didn’t. Tonight wasn’t the night to disturb the peace, it was a night to embrace it. He was letting his guard down and she didn’t know how long it would last this time.

She listened contentedly to the beating of his heart and cherished each bob of her head as his chest rose and fell with easy breaths.

Ethan was the one to break their silence.

“What did you wish for?”

Becca lifted herself up to look him in the eye, “If I tell it won’t come true.” Her sly smile told him all he needed to know.

Ethan looked up at the incredible woman looking down at him. Her dewy brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, her face free of make up letting the small specks of freckles over her nose glisten in the moonlight. Her doe brown eyes held a wonderment and safety he wanted to bottle up for all of eternity. He let his thumb trail over the freckles. Her eyes closed on contact with his warmth and her lips parted on instinct. He just stared at her. Becca. Dr. Rebecca Lao. His closest friend.

His Rookie.

And for the second time that night Ethan leaned in.

They kissed for as long as their lungs would allow. All feelings of rush from earlier gone, and now it was pure unadulterated bliss. They could take their time under the moonlight, absolutely no interruptions or anyone waiting back at home.

Becca and Ethan could simply be.

Becca’s body was on fire. She hadn’t felt this alive since that first time in his apartment. Everything about Ethan felt so right. His hands caressed her back, pulling her closer and teasing the hem of her top. Every fiber of her being kept egging her to keep going, to settle onto him, yet her mind told her to wait. Deep in her soul Becca Lao knew Ethan Ramsey was worth the wait.

With ragged lively breaths, looking into his stunning clear blue eyes she felt those words creeping up onto her tongue.

“Ethan…”

“I know,” he echoed, his baby blues so full and his thumb caressing her cheek. “I promise we’ll talk about us soon.”

And with that he kissed her again and they settled into the soil for a few hours more.

________________________________________

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#open heart #requests #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices oph2 #oph #ohsy #oph ff #ff #choices fanfic

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zwritestuff · 4 years ago

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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Eight) - Kyara

A/N: WHAT'S POPPIN HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND MERRY NEW YEAR. I'm sorry for not posting sooner!!! I had writers block and was super busy with school, but now I'm on summer vacations! Writing this chapter was a tad hard because I can't process the fact it's ending. Only the epilogue left my dudes! It's the end of a story but the start of a legacy. I'm not gonna do the sappy speech YET. So, enjoy this monster of a chapter (7.4K) and thanks to Emerald for beta-ing it!!

Read the rest of the chapters | Read on AO3.

Normally, it’s Rita or Tynomi that look down on Kiara with a brow cocked, lips pursed and quizzical gaze—but lately life has been as strange as it comes, so it doesn’t really phase her when she finds the roles reversed.

She’s in her office, going over the contract of a new partnership, pen dangling from her lips, when Rita enters without knocking and tells her they’re going out to this new bar that opened some weeks ago. No, she can’t argue, and yes, it’s imperative she goes. Kiara is sure this is the first time she’s the one looking at Rita with the implicit question of “what are you planning now?”.

“Yeah, I can’t; family dinner,” Kiara says vaguely, going back to look at the contract, though she has to restart the same sentence five times before any of the words stick—not when the only thing she can think of is that she has to break the news to her parents that Kyne and her aren’t “together” anymore, especially knowing her mom never stopped insisting she bring her to family dinners.

Rita goes back to being the one to silently judge her with a brow cocked, her stare piercing right through her. “And I have a feeling you’d rather stab your own foot than attending that dinner,” she says, tone sharp and straight to the point. Kiara clenches her jaw.

Anyone with functioning eyes and a taste for gossip knows of the rumors going around already, of the whispers saying Kyne and Kiara broke up because of Kiara’s fault, that she was too overbearing, that Kyne couldn’t put up with a spoiled brat like her, and really, it’s whatever. She doesn’t care. It’s not like it’s the first time someone spreads rumors about her that weren’t true, so it’s easy to turn a blind eye on those.

But she draws the line when she hears people talking shit about Kyne.

She doesn’t hear it directly, because everyone shuts up as soon as she’s near, of course, but they sure don’t shut up when Tynomi’s near, or Rita, or even Lena—in fact, it’s almost granted that Lena will get approached to be asked about Kiara and Kyne’s alleged break up the moment she steps foot in any resting room in the whole building; poor Lena hasn’t been able to drink her morning coffee in peace for weeks—, and the things they repeat back to her makes Kiara’s stomach twist in a fit of rage.

Kyne isn’t snarky, or bitchy, or an annoyingly deadpan cold-hearted bitch that drove Kiara mad with her inexpressiveness, least of all an ungrateful bitch that never appreciated anything Kiara did for her. She’s not. Kyne is sneaky glances and deadpan jokes, witty remarks and toothy grins she tries to pass up as annoyed smiles, she’s kindness and care disguised as unbotherness. And God, she misses all of it.

She has also been praying non-stop that neither of those rumors have reached her parents yet.

Kiara sighs. She hates that Rita is able to read her so well.

“Well, it’s not like I can get out of it,” she says after a long moment, “I already told them I’d go, and I’ve been avoiding family dinners for almost a month, so.” Kiara rests her chin in her palm, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

She had been purposefully avoiding her parents, mostly because their conversations always found a way to go back to Kyne one way or another, and Kiara was running out of excuses to give as to why they weren’t attached at the hip anymore. And after her mother’s insistence, she had agreed to go on Friday to have dinner… With Kyne.

It’s safe to say Kiara had been stressing over arriving at their door alone, rehearsing entire monologues with herself before going to sleep, while she brushed her teeth and even when she spaced out watching TV. She had gone back to the bad habit of chewing her nails whenever she thought about arriving alone on Friday and the awkwardness that will ensue after she drops the bomb.

Rita purses her lips, thinking. “You could have dinner with them and leave as soon as you’re finished.”

At that, Kiara cocked a brow. “Yeah, it might be easier to just cancel the whole thing,” she replies, and it isn’t that much of an exaggeration.

Knowing her mom, if she opens the night with “I’ve been dumped by the only serious girlfriend you know of”, she won’t hesitate in consoling her like she did when she got her first heartbreak—with an endless pep talk, forcing sweets upon her and insisting she stays with them a few days until she feels better.

She remembers when the whole situation with Abril happened; she had just moved out, but she practically moved back in again after crying to her mother about it.

Rita looks at her, tapping her left foot on the floor, seemingly defeated. But it's Rita we're talking about, so she fixes a smile on her face and clasps her hands in front of her.

“Well, if you change your mind, or if you need help getting out of there, you know where to find us.” She winks at her, and leaves without saying another word. Kiara stares at the door for a second, wondering what’s gotten into her, before going back to reviewing the contract in her hands.

Kiara has the lingering feeling that Rita’s up to something, but she dismisses it in favor of trying to not fall asleep reading contract after contract.

***

Arriving at her parents’ door alone and with a forced smile goes as well as she expected.

Her mother cranes her neck to see if Kyne is coming behind her, but Kiara just pushes her way past the door and urges her in, prefacing everything with an awkward “I have to tell you something.” Rebecca looks at her with a cocked brow, before her expression morphs into a concerned one.

“Oh, honey,” she says, and Kiara gives a long-suffering sigh. “Did anything happen with Kyne? I haven’t seen you two together lately, and I thought--”

“Maman,” Kiara cuts her off, already feeling her stomach churn. She sees her father at the end of the hallway and holds her breath. “I’ll explain it over dinner,” she says, knowing fully well she won’t be able to eat anything.

She catches her dad’s worried glance out of the corner of her eye as she pushes past the living room towards the kitchen. Her mother asks questions to which she doesn’t answer until they’re all seated at the table, and Kiara feels almost nauseous at the sight of food.

She tries to find the strength to say it more than once, but not a noise comes from her. Kiara doesn’t find it hard to break the news to them because they seemed to really like Kyne too—it’s more so that she hoped they could become a real couple, and the story of how they decided to fake date for one event and then kind of snowballed could be told as a funny, quirky story to break the ice at family gatherings.

Kiara really hoped she could bring Kyne as her real girlfriend, and now, she’s not even here as her fake one.

“Me and Kyne broke up some weeks ago,” she lets out in one breath, and has to repeat it a few times, slower, until her parents understand. Kiara immediately says that there aren’t hard feelings between them, that they broke up because they hit a wall and realized that maybe they were better off without each other. That yes, she’s sad, but she won’t be sad forever and that she wishes Kyne the best.

The truth blends in with lies better than she thought herself to be capable, as Kiara tries her best to protect Kyne’s job. She knows her parents wouldn’t be able to fire her just for breaking up with her, but when in doubt…

There’s a heavy silence, until her father speaks.

“Is that so, Kiki?” He questions, one eyebrow raised like when he knows she isn’t telling the truth. Kiara’s breath hitches in her throat—she knows her parents can tell when she’s bullshitting them, but in this particular case she hopes and prays she’s a convincing enough actress.

She may not be gunning for the Oscar, but if she gets her parents to believe her without asking too many questions, she’ll feel like she just won one.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to-- to get over it. And I didn’t want to worry you, so I said nothing,” she lies with ease, digging nails in her palms as she takes a bite of the meatloaf.

Rebecca looks at her, not with the same look as her dad, but a softer one. She knows that look very well, and she’s already bracing herself for what’s to come.

Her mother goes on a tangent about how this isn’t the end of the world even if it feels like it, that one day she’ll find her person too, and proceeds to tell her again about how she and her dad met for the thousandth time. Kiara just pretends to hear, stuffing her mouth with the food and spacing out every so often.

Everything goes like she expected it to, and she doesn’t have the heart to leave when Rebecca brings out the dessert and tells her about her college boyfriends.

And if God’s timing is always right, Tynomi’s might just be better than His; she gets a phone call from her just when her mom was telling her about the daughter of one of her friends, that recently came out too and is a very nice girl.

“Could you be any more opportune?” Kiara says as a greeting, breathing out a sigh of relief when she locks the bathroom door. She hears Tynomi scoff on the other side of the line.

“Yeah, when you didn’t answer Rita’s texts after an hour we figured it was our calling from pulling you outta there,” Tynomi replies, and Kiara can almost see the shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She paces around the bathroom, chuckling.

“Are you actually going to drag me out of their house? That’d be easier than to come up with an excuse to leave.”

There’s a short-lived pause, before Tynomi clicks her tongue. “Tell them you have to leave ‘cause we’re celebrating my birthday tonight, that you didn’t realize the hour or some shit,” she suggests, “Which, by the way, isn’t entirely false—I’m surprised you forgot my birthday tomorrow,” Tynomi comments, and Kiara can almost see her checking her nails as she said so, tone ever so casual.

Her eyes go wide as she gasps, face-palming herself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry ‘Nono, I had totally forgotten.” Her tone is apologetic and full of regret, she really didn’t mean to forget; life has been as hectic as it could be, and sometimes she even forgets basic things such as sleeping—lucky for her, Tynomi doesn’t make a big deal out of it, dismissing it with a laugh.

“I’ll forgive you if you get your ass out in, like, five minutes tops,” she says quizzically, and Kiara narrows her eyes.

“Wait—are you waiting outside already?” She asks, opening the door of the bathroom with a smile and her heart pounding in her ears. She hears Tynomi laugh along with someone in the background, probably Rita.

“You’ll find out if you come outside,” she simply says before hanging up, and Kiara rushes to the living room where her parents wait for her.

She tells them in a hurry that she forgot about her friend’s birthday, that she has to leave now to make it, and gives them a kiss on the cheek and a hug before she leaves. Her father hugs her tight, telling her to be careful, and it feels like an omen more than a warning.

Either way, Kiara brushes it off, and the first thing she sees when she steps outside is Tynomi and Rita laying against her car.

“Took you long enough,” Tynomi calls out, waving at her.

***

Everything happens in the blink of an eye.

They ride back to Kiara’s place to help her find something to wear, which considering the size of Kiara’s wardrobe shouldn’t be a task as hard as it is. It feels like a whole make-over montage, throwing clothes over their shoulders and trying things on over and over before they settle on something; a rhinestone dress she barely wore once with a cleavage so deep it would’ve scandalized her parents. Tynomi helps her with her hair, and Rita helps her find an eyeshadow design on her Pinterest board that’s subtle enough to be worn at a bar.

There are lots of laughs, noise and dumb jokes thrown around as much as clothes, and all the uneasiness Kiara felt at the beginning of the night are all but forgotten. She would give a sappy speech about how much she loves her friends, but she knows their egos don’t need to be stroked any more.

They force Kiara to eat something before they leave when she comments how she hadn’t been able to stomach anything back at her parents’ house. Kiara isn’t sure when food deliveries got so fast, but she has a chicken hamburger before she can say it’s fine.

It somehow feels like this was all planned out, but whatever, she doesn’t pay it much mind. It’s not unusual for Rita and Tynomi to plan their night outs with a concerning degree of perfection.

“How’d you find out about this bar?” Kiara wonders, fetching her keys and unplugging her phone from the charger.

“Someone from work told me about it, said she came with her friends some weekends ago and their sangria was the best thing she ever tasted,” Rita comments casually, trailing behind Kiara. “And it fills up fast, so we better get going.” She pushes her a bit, and Kiara cocks a brow at her eagerness. The bar must have the best sangria in Canada if Rita is this eager to go.

The drive is rather uneventful, and there’s a bit of back and forth between Tynomi and Kiara for free reign on the aux cord, though Rita settles it by grabbing it and taking over. Kiara wonders if there’ll ever be a day when Rita isn’t the one to settle their childish conflicts for them.

When they arrive, they have to circle around the block a few times to find a parking spot—the street is packed, and just by taking a brief peek inside of the bar you could see inside it’s exploding with people. She winces slightly, mostly because she usually doesn’t like crowded places, but whatever, she’s already there, she’s all dolled up, she might as well make the most out of it.

Finding an empty table is hard, and once they do it’s one crammed at the very back of the bar, near a door that leads to a patio for smokers. Rita decides to be the one to order the first round, leaving Tynomi and Kiara alone for what feels like an eternity.

“So how did dinner with your parents go?” Tynomi asks to break the ice, putting her phone down, and Kiara twirls a strand of curls on her index finger.

“It could’ve been worse, I guess,” she says, loud enough for her to hear over the noise but soft enough to get drowned by the dozens of voices and the music blasting on the speakers. “My mom had the five stages of grief in the span of an hour; had I known she’d like Kyne that much I would’ve kept my mouth shut.” Kiara makes the motion to rub her eyes, but then remembers her make-up, and ends up massaging her temples instead.

Tynomi scoffs, leaning over the table so she can hear her better. “Yeah, you know how moms can be. Mine still chastises me for letting go this lawyer I was going out with when I still thought I was straight.” She rolls her eyes, making Kiara laugh, “Speaking of Kyne—you haven’t talked to her at all since the, uh, “break up” right?” She questions, furrowing her brow, and Kiara visibly cringes.

“No, I haven’t, we’ve kinda been avoiding each other,” she admits, fidgeting with her fingers. It’s not technically true, though; she had avoided Kyne for the day when she decided to call it quits, but then Kyne had walked straight past her the next day without as much as a second glance, and Kiara, as petty as she can be, decided to not talk to her until Kyne decided to take the first step.

Weeks later, here they are, acting as if they never knew each other, much to her friends’ annoyance.

“Right,” Tynomi continues, “Do you think you two could, like, go back to your lovey-dovey shit if you, y’know, talked like the adults you are?” She inquires slowly, with a tone that betrays nothing, and Kiara cocks a brow—she’s about to ask what she means by “lovey-dovey shit” and assure her on the same breath that there’s no way Kyne wants to talk with her, when Rita settles their drinks on the table.

Thankfully, they don’t bring up Kyne again, and Tynomi doesn’t push for an answer.

***

As much as Kiara really did like the sip of sangria Rita offered her, she takes it easy and nibbles on the same drink for what feels like the entire night. The fun stuff when you’re the designated driver. At least, she gets to be the one seeing how her friends do and say stupid shit, instead of being the one saying and doing stupid shit.

Tynomi and Rita drag her to the bathroom in separate turns one too many times, and by Tynomi’s fourth time Kiara wonders if they’re plotting something; they always glance around, wary of everyone and everything, asking each and every time if she’s seen someone at the bar that caught her eye, with a tone that betrays nothing yet Kiara couldn't be more suspicious of. She says no, mostly because she’s not in the mood for picking someone up, and really, all of the women she’s encountered exude straight girl vibes.

It’s finally her turn to order another round, and as she perches herself against the counter waiting for the barman, her eyes roam around the room, trying to find any familiar faces, or just judging strangers’ fashion choices when—she catches her glance.

What are the odds that, out of all the bars in a city as big as this, out of all the people she could’ve made eye contact with, it happened to be Kyne the one standing at the other side of the bar, intensely staring back at her?

She snaps out of it when the barman places her order in front of her, Kiara pays him in a hurry and turns on her heels to return to her table. She feels Kyne’s piercing gaze on the back of her neck, but she tries to keep her composure for the love of all that’s holy.

When she returns, Tynomi and Rita are glued to their phones, with smug smiles that would make Kiara suspicious if she was a bit more cunning. She all but slams the drinks on the table, sitting down with a childish pout and her arms crossed. Her friends look at her with amusement, as if they know what just happened. But Kiara says nothing, just stares at her drink.

“What? Did something happen?” Rita ventures to ask, cocking a brow. Kiara scoffs, looking away. She can feel someone’s gaze on her, and she’s not stupid, she knows who it is; she’d just rather act as if she didn’t see anything.

“Nothing at all,” she lies through gritted teeth, nibbling on her drink. Her friends share a look, and Rita goes back to her phone while Tynomi fishes something out of her purse.

“Hey, Kiki, can you keep me company while I smoke outside?” She asks, and Kiara cocks a brow in her direction.

“‘Nono, I literally just came back—”

“Just one cigarette, and then we’ll be back, I promise,” Tynomi bargains with a decided tone that leaves no room for questions. Kiara groans as she grabs her drink; they’re lucky she loves them.

Outside is definitely chiller, and Kiara instinctively takes a sip from her drink as she watches Tynomi lit up a cigarette. They perch themselves against the wall, not really far from the entrance, it isn’t as crowded as inside, but they still bump shoulders with other people more than once. They make small talk, and by the way Tynomi is sneaking glances towards the door, she could swear she’s waiting to see someone. Kiara is about to ask her about it, wondering if she’s been making eye contact with another girl from the bar or something, but then she hears a voice all too familiar behind her.

“Heyyy, Tynomi! You got a light?” Priyanka’s voice booms through the patio, and before she knows it the architect is standing by Tynomi’s side, holding out a cigarette near to her lighter. “Oh, hi Kiara! Didn’t see you there,” she says cheerfully, and she waves without much energy.

“Wish I could say the same thing.” Kiara’s ears perk up when she hears that voice.

She whips her head around, narrowing her eyes, and sure enough, Kyne is standing behind her in all her glory, an unamused look on her face as she inspects her nails as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

She gulps. Hard. Fuck.

Kiara tries to recover quickly, to not let Kyne notice the way she affects her, so she cocks one of her perfectly painted eyebrows towards her, and she has no idea what possessed her, but she scoffs slightly before saying, “Well, those sure are some nice first words to say after you’ve been ignoring me for weeks.” She regrets it the moment she says it. Who can she blame for her stupid choice of words? The alcohol? Her cup is still full, and she doesn’t feel the least bit dizzy.

Kyne seems surprised that she heard her, but the surprise doesn’t last much; she glares at her, rolling her eyes with a sarcastic laugh. “As if you didn’t ignore me first! Jeez, whatever happened to “we’ll still be friends once our deal is over”?” She folds her arms, cocking a brow at her, and Kiara wishes she were drunker. It would be easier to have this conversation, since she can practically smell the vodka in Kyne’s breath.

“I tried to end things on a good note, but you stormed off! I tried to give you your space, but then you went ahead and ignored me the next day. What was I supposed to do? Use my status as your boss and force you to talk to me?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, her drink all but forgotten as she hands it to Tynomi, “before I spill it everywhere,” she mutters, and if she weren’t so angry already she would’ve noticed the amused look Priyanka and Tynomi had; like they were watching their favorite soap opera instead of seeing their friends fight in the middle of a fucking smoking patio.

Kyne furrows her brow, folding her arms as she takes a step closer. Kiara stands still.

“I didn’t storm off,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than Kiara. “I was upset and confused, and you acting like I wasn’t there when I went to pick you up for lunch didn’t help.”

She tilts her head. Okay, that’s not what she thought she’d say. “Why were you upset? Calling it quits was your idea,” she points out, “And I have no idea what you’re talking about. I had an emergency call and I had to pacify some architects and an investor, I never saw you waiting for me,” Kiara explains, and something in Kyne’s expression cracks. But as soon as it comes, it goes, and the scowl is soon back on her face.

“Whatever.” She waves a hand to dismiss the topic, but Kiara isn’t done yet.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Kyne sounds defensive, taking some steps back; but the more she steps back, Kiara steps closer.

“Why were you upset? I understand being confused, since it was sudden, but upset?” She leans closer, her height being an advantage as her face ends up mere inches away from Kyne’s. “You suggested we quit days before, I thought you’d be happy to finally be getting rid of me.” She cocks a brow, waiting for an answer, and Kyne’s face betrays nothing—until she looks away, scoffing while what Kiara thinks is a blush creeps on her cheeks.

“I—I don’t owe you an explanation,” she says simply, giving her a daring look. Kiara would say that, yes, she probably does, since she was the one that wanted to quit and then got mad at her for doing what she wanted, but she isn’t able to get a word in before Kyne looks past her towards Priyanka. “Y’know? I think I’m just gonna leave.”

“Oh, well, make sure Bobo doesn’t do anything stupid while—”

“No, I mean I’m going home,” Kyne cuts her off, and Priyanka scrambles for an answer, but before she says anything to convince her, Kyne turns on her heels and goes back to the bar, albeit walking a little wobbly.

Kiara stands there, perplexed, not really knowing what just happened. She turns around to meet Tynomi and Priyanka’s gaze. Tynomi is pinching the bridge of her nose, while Priyanka looks like she might strangle someone.

“Well, that sure went well,” Priyanka comments, folding her arms, and Tynomi scoffs.

Tynomi looks at her with a pointed look, then towards the entrance, then back at her, seemingly hoping to not have to say anything before she catches up. “I think this is the part where you go after her,” she finally says, after Kiara just stands without moving an inch.

She blinks owlishly, before she realizes what she just said. “But—but she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Priyanka groans, doing the motion of bashing her skull against the wall.

“Fucks sake, not to talk shit about my best friend, but she’s been driving me crazy talking about you these past few weeks. Trust me, just go after her, I’m pretty sure you two will make up.”

“Or make out,” Tynomi points out with a shit-eating grin, and Kiara rolls her eyes, a blush creeping on her cheeks. As much as she’d like that, Kyne is drunk, and—

Oh.

Oh shit.

She can’t let her leave alone like that, can she?

Kiara sighs in defeat.

“Fine. But you and Rita will have to book an Uber.” She turns to leave, and she hears Priyanka saying there’s no need, that she’ll drive them home, and then is when it clicks on Kiara that they had probably orchestrated the whole thing. Jesus. That would make a lot more sense.

She walks past Rita, who merely watches her go without saying anything, elbows her way past the crowd and out to the street. She looks around before she finds Kyne some feet away, leaning on the wall and frowning at her phone. Kiara inhales deeply before she approaches her, and Kyne snaps her head up when she hears her footsteps.

“What are you—?”

“Listen, I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now,” she cuts her off, and Kyne seems a bit thrown off. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not safe to get a cab alone at night when you’re drunk. Especially when you’re a woman,” Kiara points out, and Kyne narrows her eyes.

“So what? You wanna share a cab with me?” She inquiries, and Jesus, that would be so much easier. But Kiara shakes her head.

“No, I’m driving you home. My car is parked near here.” It’s more of an order than an offer, she’s sure Kyne can tell, because she crosses her arms and scoffs.

“What makes you think I’m gonna do what you say?” She comes a step closer, wanting to be intimidating, but it doesn’t really work when she has to look up to meet Kiara’s gaze even while wearing heels. Kiara inhales sharply; there’s a million things she wants to say to that, but she’s not sure they’re appropriate for the moment.

“Because Priyanka would kill me if I didn’t, and she would kill you if you refuse,” she says matter-of-factly, and she sees Kyne wince, looking away.

“I knew she was up to something,” she mutters with a scoff. She turns to look back at her almost indignantly, and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Lead the way.” Kyne pushes herself from the wall, and Kiara offers her arm for her to hang on. She refuses, but after a few steps she ends up accepting when she almost trips with the air.

It feels awfully familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

***

The ride back to Kyne’s place is awkward. That’s the only word for it.

Kiara offers her the aux cord as an olive branch, Kyne refuses, and Kiara just settles for listening to the radio.

She tries to ask her how her night had been, Kyne merely replies with a dry “good,” and the conversation dies there.

She attempts to talk to her again when they find out the quickest road to Kyne’s place is blocked because of street repairs, and they’d have to take the long way. But Kyne prefers to ignore her.

Kiara decides to give up, letting the silence be interrupted by whatever song is playing on the radio. She notices how Kyne grips the seat on the curves, squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling sharply; she wishes she was capable of ignoring her, but it’s Kyne, and she can’t just ignore Kyne.

“You okay over there?” She asks politely, eyes firm on the road. Kyne grunts, letting her head fall against the window, her gaze transfixed on the streets.

“I’m just a bit nauseous, that’s all,” she musters, bracing her stomach with another wince, as Kiara turns to the left. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna puke in your car if you’re worried about that,” Kyne says, finally turning to see her.

“I’m more worried about you than the car, y’know,” Kiara admits before she can think much about it, and she feels her neck burn as Kyne shoots a small smile towards her. “I can slow down if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine, as far as I’m concerned, I need you to go faster so I can stick my head down the toilet,” she says with a dry laugh, and Kiara chuckles, biting the inside of her cheek.

They don’t exchange many words after that, only when Kiara checks in with Kyne and she replies with short sentences. Kiara considers it a victory that they’re civil enough to hold a conversation without being snarky, even if it’s for a small bit. When the road is drawing to an end and Kiara can see Kyne’s building, she feels a bit of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach—she wishes they didn’t have to part ways, but she supposes that this is better than nothing.

She parks in front in silence, turning to look at Kyne with a small smile. “You sure you’re okay?” She asks one last time, as Kyne pinches her cheeks and exhales.

She opens the door, stands still for a second, tries to take a step, but then ends up climbing back into the car, shaking her head.

“I still feel like the world is spinning,” she announces sheepishly, and Kiara can tell that tone in her voice means “I’m sorry to be a bother.” So she’s quick to reassure her.

“I can walk with you to your door, I don’t mind,” she offers, leaving out the part where she says it wouldn’t be that strange to her; the night of the ball, she had an arm firmly placed around her waist, Kyne was leaning into her, and they were giggling like idiots and life was good.

Kyne looks at her through half-lidded eyes, stays silent for a second too long, and licks her lips before finally speaking. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I feel the vodka battling the pizza I had before, so I need someone to hold my hair while I puke my bad decisions out,” she says, blunt as ever, “Would you do me the honor of being that person?” Her tone is far too cheesy for the context, and Kiara laughs wholeheartedly, nodding as she climbs down the car and goes to offer Kyne her hand again.

She doesn’t dare to take her by the waist—not yet—so she makes sure her grip on her hand is strong enough without hurting her. Kyne seems unbothered, rather concentrated in not tripping on air again, and if she leans onto Kiara more than once, Kiara says nothing about it, hoping she can’t hear her breath catching in her throat.

The elevator is filled with a thick silence, in which they’re on opposite sides, trying to mind their business, but Kiara can’t help to glance at Kyne with a sneaky smile as the girl checks herself in the mirrors, apparently unaware of her stare.

“You can just take a picture, y’know, it lasts longer.”

Apparently.

She speaks with the calmest voice yet bears the most wicked of grins. Kiara scoffs, looking away, trying to hide her imminent blush behind her hair.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says simply. She hears her giggle, and it’s such an intoxicating sound that she can just inhale sharply and mentally berate the elevator for taking so long.

“Sure, Kiki.” She cocks a brow at her, arms folded as she leans back on the mirror.

Kiara acts as if she didn’t hear her use her pet name and instead twirls a strand of curls with her index finger.

The doors open and Kiara practically sprints out, while Kyne takes her sweet time pushing herself off the mirror and walking up to her, almost instantly latching onto her arm, pressing her cheek against her elbow. It takes all of Kiara’s willpower to appear unbothered by it.

Kyne produces her keys out of her pocket once they’re in front of her door, rushes Kiara inside and shuts it again. Kiara can barely say a word before she sees Kyne kick her heels and run towards the bathroom without crashing into furniture despite being dark. She laughs to herself; apparently she wasn’t lying about her intentions on letting her in.

She kicks off her heels too, rushing when she hears the noises from the bathroom. Kyne is already sitting by the toilet, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and looking as if she dreads the moment she decided to drink that much. Kiara kneels next to her without saying anything, grabbing a fist full of her hair, and she has to chastise herself one too many times when she thinks this isn’t how she imagined she’d be pulling on her hair before.

She rubs circles on her back without saying anything, and after a long moment Kyne takes a deep breath and tries to stand alone. Kiara flushes the toilet and awkwardly stays there while Kyne hazaphardly takes off her make-up and brushes her teeth. Once she’s done, she takes a clean make-up wipe and sits back with her, taking her chin with her free hand.

“I figured you’d wanna take your make-up off too,” she explains, before she takes the wipe close to her face. Kiara just nods, and Kyne smiles satisfied as she cleans her face.

If Kiara didn’t know any better, she’d say she’s taking her time: not because she’s Kyne and she’s meticulous to the point it’s pathological, but because she’s tracing every line of her face with delicacy, prolonging their time together with an excuse as simple as that.

Kiara fidgets with her hands in silence, unsure of what to say, but like most of their conversations during the night, she says something impulsive just to break the ice.

“I’m sorry for breaking up with you like that,” she finally says, and it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. Kyne stops mid-movement, whole body tensing, and she sees her gulp before she resumes her work.

“That’s fine, I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Kyne says softly, tracing the outline of her lips to get rid of her lipstick. Her gaze is transfixed on Kiara’s mouth, and if Kiara was a bit more courageous, she’d just pull her closer and seal their lips together.

Instead, she just inhales sharply and tries to keep her composure. “Do you—do you wanna talk about why you were upset?” She asks, because she’s itching to know. She wants to know if there’s the small chance they’re on the same page regarding their feelings, that maybe she too feels like the air has been knocked out of her lungs whenever they’re this close.

Kyne winces, visibly cringing. “Guess I can’t escape now, can I?” She says with a dreadful tone that she tries to hide with a humourless laugh. Kiara looks at her expectantly, and Kyne sighs. “Fine, you really wanna know?” She tosses the make-up wipe aside and leans back a bit, rubbing her eyelids.

There’s silence for a moment too long, but Kiara doesn’t push her to talk, whatever it is that she’s building up the courage to say can either make Kiara see heaven or send her straight to hell, so she waits with bated breath.

And then she speaks.

“I was hoping we didn’t have to break up, or that at the very least it would take us a little more to do it,” she admits, but Kiara senses that it isn’t the end of it, so she just stays in silence, with her heart pounding in her ears. Kyne sighs heavily and bites her lower lip, squeezing her eyes shut before proceeding. “And—and I didn’t want to break up with you because I love you.”

Kiara isn’t sure she heard that right. She just stares at her, eyes growing wide as her breath hardens. She feels her face burn in flames, and it doesn’t help when Kyne meets her gaze and all she can see is earnesty.

When she remains silent, Kyne panics and starts to babble. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you earlier, but then one of my friends told me some of the rumors about you, and I didn’t want to believe them but it ended up causing me to snap at you anyway, and when I found out the truth and decided to tell you again, you decided to call things off and I didn’t think it would be okay to tell you after that—”

“Kyne,” she cuts off her rant by reaching for her face and cupping it, the space between them growing smaller. Kyne is staring at her lips unabashedly, and it only makes Kiara want to lose control, but she can’t—yet. “I love you too. I’ve known I love you since the night at the ball, but I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t want you to feel pressured to like me back—and the last time I had serious feelings for someone from the company didn’t exactly end up well, so I was afraid history would repeat itself. But now…” Kiara leaves the words hanging in the air, sighing in defeat.

She furrows her brow, tilting her head slightly. “Yeah, about that, not that you owe me an explanation or anything, but I’ve heard the name Abril dropped in some of these rumors,” Kyne says slowly, carefully, but Kiara can’t help the wince that comes out of her.

“Oh,” is all she manages to say, “Oh. Yeah. Abril, she, uh, she was my first girlfriend—or I thought she was. It’s a complicated story.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and almost instantly she feels Kyne’s thumb softly stroking her cheek.

“You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t feel like it, I can wait,” she assures her, and Kiara relaxes under her touch, only then realizing how dangerously close their lips are, Kyne’s hot breath hitting her right in her face. And she doesn’t mind a single bit. “However, I don’t think I can wait any longer to do this--”

Kyne wastes no more time in grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a heated kiss. Kiara is shocked at first, but eagerly kisses her back, scooting herself closer. She’s dreamed of kissing Kyne more than she’ll ever admit to, dreamed of grabbing the back of her throat, with her hands finding her way into her hair and tugging just a little bit on it to bring her closer, hoping Kyne’s hands find their way onto her waist to dig her nails on it while Kiara’s push her into a bed.

There’s no bed in sight here, but Kiara guesses she can’t complain, only to say close isn’t close enough, and that suddenly the temperature in the bathroom is unbearably hot, despite being partially leaning against the cold tiles.

She’s not sure at what point did Kyne end up on top of her, but it’s not like she doesn’t like it.

When they separate briefly to breathe, Kyne hides her face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily, giving Kiara goosebumps.

“If I knew you’d do that, I would’ve talked to you sooner,” Kiara jokes out of breath, and she feels Kyne smile against her neck, giggling slightly.

“Yeah, we could’ve done a lot more stuff had we gotten out shit together earlier,” she says quizzically, and Kiara’s breath hitches in her throat.

“Well, first off, we’re not doing anything on your dirty bathroom floor,” she begins, ignoring Kyne’s offended gasp and “I cleaned it yesterday!”. “Second, we’re not doing anything while you’re drunk,” Kiara points out, and Kyne whines loudly, but she merely chuckles.

“You’re no fun,” she complains, sitting up and straddling her while folding her arms. Kiara wishes she could give in and just let Kyne do whatever she wants with her, but she likes to believe she still has some self-control.

“I’ll be more fun in the morning, pinky promise,” she tries to bargain, bringing a hand to her face and stroking her cheek, giving her a cheeky wink. Kyne rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile appears on her face either way.

“If you say so…” Kyne reluctantly gets up and sticks a hand out to help Kiara, and she gives her another kiss when their bodies bump against the other.

Kiara could get used to getting kisses from Kyne all the time.

Hand in hand, she finally gets to see Kyne’s bedroom—the walls are a baby blue, there’s a desk by the window neatly organized with little plastic figurines of a show she can’t recognize, bookshelves filled with books, photos scattered on the walls, a wardrobe in a corner and a bed in the middle of the room full of stuffed animals, with a nightstand on its side.

Kyne lets her borrow a pijama, and despite her insistence that she can change there, Kiara still goes back to the bathroom to change her clothes. She fetches a glass of water; she’s pretty sure Kyne will need it in the morning. When she returns, Kyne is already tucked under the covers, looking fast asleep.

She slides next to her, leaving the glass on the nightstand and her dress at the feet of the bed, and almost immediately Kyne turns around to place her arm around her waist and tangle their legs together. Kiara chuckles, okay, so she’s not asleep.

“Kyne?” She whispers, Kyne hums in response. “Do you wanna go out on a real date someday?” Kiara asks, and that’s enough to make Kyne’s eyes snap open.

“I’d love that,” she musters, a wide smile spreading on her face as she places a kiss on her jaw. “I love you,” she says, softly and like a prayer, and Kiara sighs happily.

She never thought she’d be able to hear those words.

“I love you too,” she replies, making herself comfortable under the covers, holding her whole world in place as they sleep.

#kyara #fake dating au #some things are bound to be fic #rpdr fanfiction #online kyne #kyne #kiara schatzi #priyanka love #rita baga #tynomi banks #my fanfiction

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

155. Part 2

This was prompted by the AO3 user Kira_Katashi! Enjoy!

Fandom: [Prototype] & Assassin’s Creed | Ship: Almond (Alex/Desmond) [part1] [read on AO3]

Alex sat on top of a destroyed skyscraper, hidden behind the shattered beams and broken flooring. He simply waited there while watching humanity rebuild what was previously known as the Red Zone. Lower Manhattan was still largely a wasteland. In the distance he could see cranes and scaffolding rebuild tower after tower. Who knew, maybe in a few years’ time, everything would be back to normal and the next generation would have already forgotten how narrowly humanity had evaded extinction. It wasn’t without a sense of disbelief when he reminded himself that back then there had actually been two threats, and no one knew about either. Well, the viral outbreak could hardly be hidden away, but had Alex not run into Desmond at Abstergo, he had never known of the solar flare and a conflict between opposing forces that had existed through all times. What else was there he didn’t know about, he asked himself some days. He sighed. He guessed it didn’t have to bother him anymore. His only concern was to eradicate the remaining nests in New York that sporadically popped up. He had to make sure he was the last remaining piece of Blacklight in the world.

Other than that, the only thing for him to do was wait until the assassins needed him as a weapon. He didn’t know how it had first happened, but ever since rescuing Desmond from Abstergo out of mutual gain, they considered him an ally to their course. For now, he hadn’t tried to change that. Once humanity had reconquered the Red Zone, there was nowhere left to go for him. He wasn’t human anymore and with Blackwatch being able to discover any and all particles of Blacklight with their scans he basically had a large target on his back once Lower Manhattan had been cleared. Maybe in the end, he would have to side with the assassins if only for the reason they would take him in and hide him from the world. If it wasn’t just a plot to get a sample from him to infect a fellow assassin and transform them to have a weapon that was truly loyal to their course.

But Desmond had been serious with his offer, right? The man had seemed like he was honest with what he said at least. If he was to believe what he had heard, Desmond wasn’t truly human himself anymore and with having relived the memories of his ancestors, maybe they were more similar than Alex dared to think. Also, it wasn’t as if he could be contained if he really didn’t want to be there. Even Bloodtox would only slow him down at this point. Well, he had time until there was real urgency in the decision, but Alex would rather get it over with while there was still a plan-b for him and the assassins remembered he had saved one of their most valued members.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the phone call. He had only two contacts, Dana and Desmond and he had a feeling it would be the latter this time. He was right: ‘Hey, Alex, there is another briefing scheduled in an hour. Err… Just tell me where I can find you afterwards, so I can keep you updated.’ Alex thought about it for a moment and then cut the line without answering. An hour? He could make it. If only to test the waters with his presumed allies and spare Desmond the way over through a partially infected district.

He climbed to the floor above him and jumped out of the hole in the wall, gliding over to the next building. As he continued his way towards the river, he was thinking about what Desmond had suggested. He could try making his way in with a disguise, but would that really solve anything? In the end, he decided to leave the deserted stores alone and simply head over to their hideout. He scaled the last building and used the height to soar over the East River until he hit Williamsburg Bridge and travelled along its side. From there on he travelled by foot using small streets and staying away from the gates on the larger ones checking those that wanted to leave the district for any sign of the virus. Used to the speed he normally travelled at in the Red Zone, it was agonising walking through the streets slow enough not to raise suspicion. As he finally arrived at the hideout, a building made from simple bricks in an industrial area, he was already late. He walked towards the entrance, noting, but not reacting to a person standing leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. The human on the other hand stepped into his way. ‘Wait. Who are you?’ Mercer looked the man up and down. His first instinct was to consume, but that would likely lessen his chances with the assassins, so he accepted the delay begrudgingly. ‘I’m expected.’ ‘I still need your name.’ The virus sighed. ‘My name is Mercer. A… friend of Desmond and your brothers used me often enough as their weapon to justify me attending the briefings, does it not?’ He enjoyed seeing the instinctive flinch the man couldn’t quite stifle. ‘The virus?’ ‘You want evidence?’ He couldn’t help his biomass shifting in anger at the unwanted delay. ‘Or will you let me in now?’

Apparently, the man was clever enough not to take him up on that offer and opened the door, leading him through the building to the meeting room. Then he left him alone. Mercer decided to make his first impression count and opened the doors without knocking or further notice, interrupting the meeting and immediately gathering all the attention in the room. He let his eyes fly over the different persons and relaxed a bit as he saw Desmond. He was surprised as the man pulled an empty chair back for him and quickly made his way over. As soon as he had sat down, the meeting continued as if nothing had happened and the few glances his way stopped after a while.

‘I’m glad you came’, Desmond whispered, leaning over a bit. ‘Although you won’t gain points with my dad by being late.’ ‘I don’t really care for that’, Alex grumbled. ‘Well, you have mine, then.’ Desmond grinned at him, before he returned his attention back to the briefing. ‘Desmond, how’s the team with the new network?’ ‘Dana’s making progress’, the man answered. Alex perked up at the mention of his sister. He didn’t actually know what she was doing here. ‘We planned on getting the bugs positioned in the city by the end of the week.’ ‘Mercer, how’s the situation in Manhattan?’ Alex looked up, not quite expected to be asked yet. ‘Err… The hum- the people of New York have begun rebuilding. I’m keeping an eye on the infected and at the moment there are no nests that survived my last hunt.’ ‘Good. How difficult would it be to infiltrate the working crew to bug their systems during construction.’ ‘Quite easy. They take everyone who is brave enough to go into the Red Zone. Most of the workers don’t know each other.’ ‘Alright. Desmond and Mercer, as soon as those bugs are ready, it’s your job to distribute them.’ ‘Understood’, Desmond answered, leaning back. The rest of the briefing went on without Mercer being addressed at any time. Still, he was impressed with how little his presence was questioned. Sure, a few people stared, but that was expected.

‘Ahh, so that’s over with!’, Desmond sighed as he went outside, stretching. ‘I hate these briefings…’ ‘Couldn’t say I enjoyed it, either’, Alex nodded. ‘At least your people didn’t seem too bothered with a mass murder in their rows.’ ‘Too be honest, I did some cultivation of your image here… It was only me, Shaun and Rebecca against Abstergo for a long time. With me being the one destined to saving the world and you being the person who saved me, I think they have to at least pretend to like you. Also, Dana already did great work, so you joining isn’t too sudden for them. But come on, I’ll show you your room!’ ‘My… room?’ ‘Sure. You… You are staying right? I mean, why else the sudden change with the briefings?’ Alex still looked sceptical and Desmond continued: ‘We kept you a room vacant that’s far from the others’. I know you like it secluded.’ ‘I… do.’

Desmond led him through the building past a gym and weapons range as well as sleeping quarters, up two flights of stairs until they were standing under the roof. It was a narrow chamber with a bed, a desk and its own bathroom. Not that Alex needed anything of that, but it was a nice touch. ‘You can use this room, if you want. If you want to stay.’ Alex stood there and contemplated. It sure beat his draughty shelter in the collapsed skyscraper. Maybe he would test it out for a while and go back when it didn’t feel right. Slowly he nodded. ‘It will take time adapting to it, but I will try.’

Desmond smiled at him and patted his shoulder companionable. ‘Then welcome home.’

#[Prototype]#[Protocreed]#Protocreed #Alex/Desmond #Desmond/Alex #Almond #Alex Mercer #Desmond Miles

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agentsterling · 3 years ago

Note

What's the most romantic thing you've done for Chen?

"Ah, see. That's a tough one. Rebecca and I have very different perspectives on romance. I'm a big gestures kind of guy and she typically does small but meaningful. She's been dabbling in big gestures lately though and I've been trying to dial it back so we can meet somewhere in the middle on it."

"My favorites so far have been when I told her I loved her. Took her to the top of the Empire State Building and played a song on my phone for us to dance to. Told her I loved her and she... cried so hard I had to take her home. Still. I don't regret it."

"We had one really nice date where we went dancing on a boat with the city skyline as the sun set. Big jazz band to drown out the sounds of the waves for me but also on the water for Chen to enjoy. She really seemed to like that."

"There was the gesture of buying her the warehouse where Merc had me to rebuild the Home that was burned down. It made more sense to me, I think. She's really running with it, it's looking great so far but... I don't know if I explained everything correctly that day. I was a little disjointed." Sterling's way of thinking concerning that day and the time around his torture always made him feel like a crazy person when he tried to explain it out loud to others. He felt like he really ruined the romance of the gesture by trying to verbalize it all. Why Chen was his red crane just... didn't seem to make sense when he said it out loud.

"But I think her favorite might have been New Years this last year. After the party at her father's," Where they slipped off for some more intimate husband and wife time in the man's study, "I took her to Break Bar where I had rented out a room to let out her frustrations. It's literally just a concrete room where they give you things to smash. So we smashed things and got smashed to cleanse ourselves of that intense and shitty year. I just think she really needed the tension relief, you know? We both did."

#sterling answers #chen #shieldsfilemistress

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teecupangel · 9 months ago

Note

From @thedragonqueen1998

XD Historians would panic over the video, it contains so many truths and the accent the man in the video used is accurate, but how the fuck does he know it!? Who is Leonardos friend?! Why isn't he mentioned anywhere? The historians and the internet is figurative on fire.

From @blue-cat-ter-flies-blog

@thedragonqueen1998 Desmond becomes The Origin of sooooooo many internet meltdowns, implosions, explosions, boil-overs, wars and just general Internet Apocalypse(TM). Several, in fact.

From @thedragonqueen1998

Pretty much on brand for Desmond. XD

Okay, but just imagine how this would play out. Desmond (technically Ezio) starts talking about locations, events and specific details that cannot be ignored. Sure, many would think it’s just some kind of act to get more clout but then…

One of them starts digging around because they were planning on releasing a debunk video but instead…

They found evidence. Because no matter how hard the Brotherhood and the Templars try to suppress the truth, there will always be something they’d miss.

And humans are tenacious little buggers, especially when it concerns something they are passionate about.

And a historian would rather die than let go of this mysterious thin line of secrecy and truth.

Also, the more the Templars and the Brotherhood tried to bury it, the more evident the parts missing becomes.

This will blow up the moment the historian finds more evidence that proves Desmond’s ‘rants’. And what helps the historian find it?

Desmond’s video itself.

From @atomicsharkchild

I think this would also change the timeline as well which is neat. Abstergo made games about the assassins (and a few templars) and canonically changed events (specifically thinking of liberations here) to make the assassins look bad in what was released. But if this video was released before they started on that project, it would make it very hard for them to manipulate the narrative in that manner towards their favor.

With the way this setting is going… we can’t even sure if they would be able to release any games lol.

At this point, they’d be digging their own grave if they try to change the plot XD

From @zero-saito

He become a meme god from everyone loosing their minds over his video and the demand for more videos but also trying to figure out who the hell he is!! 😂

“No.”

He always hated talking to William Miles. It wasn’t because William Miles was like a typical ‘back in my days!’ kind of old man.

It was because he was so stubborn he actually felt bad for anyone who try to torture the old man to give up information.

His personality would be a torture for any torturers out there.

Was he using the word torture too much?

Yeah, probably.

After the big fuck up from Rebecca Crane (because Desmond Miles’ been a civi for the past nine years and he was definitely not tech savvy so he was absolutely blaming Rebecca Crane and the other two babysitters who should have known better), he had been pushed into acting as team leader to clean this mess up.

Not because of seniority.

Not even because he has a lot of ‘close friends’ with Erudito and the rest of the hacker community.

No.

Because Rebecca Freaking Crane called him first.

He was running out of spite and countless energy drinks.

His brain was going on overdrive and he knew if he didn’t get off the phone in the next 5 minutes, he was going to crash.

Talking with William Miles always tired out his mental state and he still needed to keep directing others to make damage control.

It was not helping that many respectable historians and other experts (linguists? FUCKING LINGUISTS? FUCK YOU BLEEDING EFFECT) were getting in the action.

His smear campaign using bots to make sure the top comments are all “wow, is he practicing Italian?” and “lol, totally inaccurate but funny ig” were starting to be buried thanks to long-ass comments explaining how this might be real.

Curse you organic likes and comments!

“Look, Bill.” He rubbed his face, craving fried chicken all of a sudden.

Dear god, when was the last time he ate something other than chips and chocolates?

He’ll get takeout and charge it on one of Rebecca Crane’s personal accounts.

After this call.

Or, actually, he’ll just order it online using one of his other phones.

Multitasking ftw.

“We can’t just delete the video.” He repeated, trying his best not to grit his teeth, “That would make people more curious about it. What we need to do is control the narrative.”

“You want Desmond to record more of these.” Bill growled.

“But lie this time around!” He argued, “This way, we can make this ‘oh shit is he for real?’ narrative into a ‘oh it was just a gimmick’ narrative!”

“The best way to-” He stopped just as he was about to order an entire bucket while talking to a goddamn stubborn brick wall, “Fuck.”

He clicked his mouse a few times but the notification remained.

The video had been deleted.

“Bill, did you order Crane to delete the video?!”

“No. Did someone delete it?” Bill’s tone held a dangerous edge to it.

“Yes, some idiot-”

A message popped out from the phone he used to contact a few hackers.

[omg did u c erudito’s post? abstergos fucked up lollol]

“Nonononono” He quickly went to one of Erudito��s public pages and cursed, “Oh, you fucking idiots!”

He covered his face as the front page of Erudito’s website showed evidence that the deletion of Desmond’s video (and entire account apparently) came from an IP from Abstergo’s Rome facility.

Not only that, Erudito went as far as post the moment it was deleted because they fucking hacked the security cam.

“Bill…”

“Yes?”

“I quit.”

“No.”

He groaned and hit his head on the table.

Desmond being bored and deciding to make a retelling of his ancestors for shaun or historians of the assassin's. Except he 'accidentally' makes it public and it goes viral, given that sometimes its Desmond and other times its his ancestors from the bleeding effect

The Assassins desperately needed a win.

After the Great Purge, the Assassins were left imprison in a sinking ship.

William Miles and Gavin Banks tried their best to protect and hide what was left but it was a losing battle.

It made people desperate.

Desperate enough to place their fate in Desmond Miles.

Desmond Miles, the runaway son of William Miles.

Desmond Miles, the descendant to Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore.

The golden boy of the Assassins.

He didn’t really care much about him.

Rebecca Crane was his tech support so he never even met the great Desmond Miles.

He was stuck here, in the basement of a loud club in Berlin, doing his job as one of the contact persons of Erudito.

Most of the time, he just helped Erudito fuck Abstergo’s shit up.

Or try to anyway.

Abstergo does have one of the most impressive security system money can buy.

They were slowly chipping on it though.

Most of Erudito were still trying to throw rocks at the digital bullet proof system Abstergo has while he and the best of Erudito hack into another company who uses the same system to find its weaknesses that they can use against Abstergo.

They were so close to a break through.

And he may have drunk 6 or 7 energy drinks for the last 62 hours so he actually thought he was hallucinating for a moment when he clicked the link one of the Erudito hackers he was working with had spent with the message “dude, isn’t he one of yours? O.o”.

It was a youtube video.

Of Desmond Miles…

In that motherfucking (should certainly be) secret hideout in Italy.

With that motherfucking statue of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad behind him, completely clear on view.

“So you wanted to know what Ezio was doing while he was looking for Cesare Borgia, right, Shaun? You went out and I know I’ll be back in the Animus by the time you get here so I’m recording this so you can watch it while I’m stuck in the Animus.”

“So… Cesare left Roma after he failed to kill Ezio and got sent to Castel Sant’Angelo.”

He blinked.

Was…

Was Desmond Miles giving a history lesson???

Oh, fuck, he was.

And he just namedropped Machiavelli and Leonardo as Ezio’s companions who were also looking for where Cesare was transferred after he escaped and got captured again in Firenze.

And…

He had started to speak in Italian.

Not only that…

His entire demeanor, even the way he sat had changed.

He had only heard about it.

The Bleeding Effect.

Desmond Miles was bleeding as Ezio Auditore in a fucking video in the internet.

His second phone began to rang and he prayed to every holy and demonic being that it wasn’t William Miles.

No matter what William Miles say, he cannot just scrub that video from the internet.

It was obvious (6 millions views! What the fuck!!!) that someone out there had already downloaded this video and taking it down would just spark more controversy.

He looked at the number and knew exactly who was calling him.

He accepted the call and said immediately, “What the fuck, Crane. Why did Miles upload a video to fucking Youtube?!”

Rebecca groaned and he could hear Lucy Stillman and Shaun Hastings shouting in the background, most probably ripping Desmond Miles a new one.

“The phone he used to record it automatically uploads to Youtube.”

He blinked.

“That is bullshit.”

“It’s true! It’s one of Lucy’s burner phones and she didn’t even change the settings at all! It defaulted to that kind of setting!”

“No phone has an automatic upload to Youtube and you know it.”

“I know but this one does! It’s so weird! It’s like… something weird is going on here!”

“I’d believe it more if you said Miles wanted to publish it as unlisted but fucked up.”

Rebecca groaned once more.

A phone that automatically uploads to Youtube.

That was such bullshit.

(Rebecca is telling the truth. The phone is a weird one and Lucy can’t even remember where she got it. Almost like… it was always there. Dun dun dun)

#i kinda wanna keep this dude nameless #to show just how much of a mob he is #but i also wanna call him jona XD

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transwitchofthewilds · 4 years ago

Text

Here's my bio (since it's long overdue). The important things are in red.

I'm Jaeson. He/him. 15. I'm transmasc and panromantic. I love history. I'm neurodivergent. My fandoms consist of Night At The Museum, What We Do In The Shadows, Archer, Star Trek, Gakkou Gurashi, BTR, Daybreak, Merlin, DC, MCU, and the Heathers.

Fic requests are always open.

Fic request requirements

(I will also do icons/headers/moodboards if requested!!)

Also,

Napoleon lovers, Capoleon shippers, and Teddy x Wea shippers don't interact. Also, if you're a panphobe, transphobe, homophobe, enbyphobe, racist, biphobe, etc don't interact. Dni if you're a 18+ blog.

For NatM fans: the Tablet of Ahkmenrah

Face reveal

Other NatM blogs:

@askthedrunkexhibits @trans-at-the-museum @natm-ocs-blog @panpilotamelia

My NatM ocs blogs

@pan-persian-warrior @smol-boy-akim @lysandra-angelos @ichtaca-cuateco

My other blogs:

@hikaru-sulu-is-trans (Star Trek) @katya-kazanova-is-trans (Archer fx) @samistransandpan (spn) @by-the-circle-k (bill & ted) @slapped-with-a-gun (zoolander) @nadja-in-a-hat (What We Do In The Shadows) @trans-josh-wheeler (daybreak) @trans-angela-moss (mr robot) @trans-yuuri-wakasa (gakkou gurashi blog) @trans-jonathan-crane (dc blog) @transmasc-zukka (atla)

I do have a couple of state rp blogs--tell me if you'd like to know them.

If you wanna know my blogs for my other fandoms, send me a message and I'll gladly tell you them.

My queued posts are tagged queued at the museum and I'll only have posts queued if I'm having a rough time with Tumblr or if I'm busy.

My NatM ships: Sacagamelia (Sacagawea x Amelia), Alvan (Al x Ivan), L/D (Larry x Don), Tedphee (Teddy x McPhee), Latilla (Laaa x Attila), Kahmundar (Kahmunrah x Naudar--oc), Akimenrah (Ahkmenrah x Akim--oc), Joanandra (Joan of Arc x Lysandra--oc), Octaca (Octavius x Ichtaca--oc), occasionally Amelia x Sacagawea x Rebecca.

Yes, I do know Russian.

(My sibling's blog is @nonbinaryvulcan btw)

My master-list

Pride at the Museum (Sacagamelia, Jedtavius, Alvan)

What If She Says No? (Sacagamelia)

Burning Desire (Sacagamelia)

Reginald & Gus (Gus x Reginald)

Anything You Want (Alvan)

This Should Be Your Warning Part 1 (Sacagamelia)

This Should Be Your Warning Part 2 (Sacagamelia)

The Truth (Sacagamelia)

Parenting Wars Chapter One (Sacagamelia, Jedtavius)

Parenting Wars Chapter Two (Sacagamelia, Jedtavius)

Parenting Wars Chapter Three (Sacagamelia, Jedtavius)

Situations (Sacagamelia)

Just One Message Chapter One (Sacagamelia)

Leave Him (Jedtavius)

Flat (Al centric)

Taking The Blame (Kah centric)

That Wasn't So Bad (Sacagamelia)

For Me? (Latilla--Laaa x Attila)

WTSSMTP - Ch 1 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 2 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 3 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 4 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 5 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 6 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 7 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 8 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 9 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

WTSSMTP - Ch 10 (Ahkmenrah x oc)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 1 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 2 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 3 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 4 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 5 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 6 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 7 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 8 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 9 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 10 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 11 (Sacagamelia)

Stuck On Her - Chapter 12 (Sacagamelia)

Finally Growing Up - Chapter 1 (Sacagamelia, Alvan, Ahkmenrah x oc, Jedtavius??)

The Assassin Doesn't Play Nice...Or Maybe She Does (Sacagamelia)

The Legend of Sneaky Cecil

You Are Awesome (Alvan)

What He Does Isn't Your Concern (Alvan)

Jedtavius fic

When The Stars Align (Alvan)

If You Ever Need To Talk (Sacagamelia)

Just Breathe - Chapter 1 (Alvan)

Just Breathe - Chapter 2 (Alvan)

Just Breathe - Chapter 3 (Alvan)

Joan of Arc x Oc

#info about me #pinned post #tw language

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas: Space, Jupiter

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 7/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 7: Jupiter

Summary: Tony has warned Loki and Becca about their heart eyes interfering with their work. So, what do they do? They sneak around in secret, of course. Well, sort of secret. (Post Taking Turns.)

Warnings include: Language, annoyingly soft domesticity, self-sabotage (I wonder who -.-). Fluff. All the fluff.

Wrote it down in the winter of 1610 Just a secret under lock and key until then While collecting the stars, I connected the dots I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not I’m just a curious speck that got caught up in orbit, in orbit Like a magnet it beckoned my metals towards it, towards it

Loki sat basking in the warmth of the mid-morning sunshine at the corner of the development lab. He had cleared out a small corner of one of the lab benches and settled in with a few reference books and an empty notebook. In his head, his goal for the day was to uncover the secrets of an ancient tome he had only just found on a trip off-world. Ink marred his fingers, the ball-point pen running as he hurriedly jotted down notes, but his focus was somewhere else entirely. It was with the empty side of his bed that morning, and the faint smell of vanilla and sugar lingering on his pillow; with his favorite jumper, and the fact that it had been unceremoniously tossed on a chair.

He had set course for the lab as soon as he was able, like a magnet searching its opposite charge.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he cut his eyes towards it. Becca’s form caused him to double-take. Quiet and concentrated, she tinkered with a prototype for the Spiderboy’s suit. His stare grazed over the elegant column of her neck, craned at a slightly awkward angle as deft fingers took care to place tiny components onto a circuit board. Loki forced himself to continue working, though his body would betray him, only to stare blankly at the object of his affections, like a fool. Shaking his head, he turned back to his notebook and promptly groaned when he noted that part of his notes had been obscured by a rough sketch of Rebecca, bent over her work.

Loki had never been one to indulge in drawing or any other form of art, though he certainly did not lack the ability. His lines were smooth and deliberate, and though looked true to model, they lacked the same warmth and light Rebecca naturally exuded. It did little to capture the dainty shadows of her eyelashes on her cheekbones or the soothing aura that enveloped him as soon as he got near arm’s reach. Nor did it portray his overwhelming need to act cool and collected when he was in her presence, when all he wanted to do was talk until he had discovered every last secret of hers, and she of his.

“What are you doing?” The voice appeared in his ear so suddenly that he started. He slammed his notebook closed a second later. “Jeez, since when are you so jumpy?”

“I was distracted. Didn’t think I’d be snuck up on in the middle of the day in the lab,” he grumbled, turning in his seat to face her.

Almost compulsively, his hand sought to pull her closer, resting at the point he knew that bullet had pierced her skin, months ago. He shouldn’t want to pull her into his arms and kiss her and promise her the world, when he knew full well it could hurt her. But he got so easily swept up in the delicious sweetness of her character behind closed doors and the way her eyebrow quirked when she was about to say something clever and sexy.

Becca brushed some of his dark locks out of his face and behind his ear, taking care to brush her fingers all the way down his neck before retreating. She smiled, something secret and intimate, before sighing. “You know better than to come in here while I’m working, Loki.”

“I wanted to see you,” he breathed, leaning forward until his forehead rested on her collarbone. Becca immediately petted his hair back as a shiver ran down his spine. “No one was here and Stark–”

“Already warned us about dating interfering with our work, and you know it.”

“I’m sorry I cannot resist the temptation of your charms.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat and ghosted his lips over her neck until he felt her resolve melt. “Do you want to tell Stark you’re sick and go someplace else?”

She snorted. “It’s Saturday, Loki. I can go wherever I want.” He righted himself, quick as a flash, narrowing his eyes at her with a frown. “Seriously, glance at the calendar, every now and then.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“My boyfriend was deep in slumber this morning, so I kept myself occupied.” She grinned brightly, cocking her hip to rest her weight on one leg, the shift causing her curves to stand out in stark relief. His fingers shifted from his thigh to the spot where her wide hips flared and just the barest bit of bone jutted out delicately. He was fascinated with how his hands fit so perfectly onto her body.

“Why, pray tell, would you not just sneak into my bed and wait for me to wake?” He growled playfully.

“I wasn’t looking for disappointment so early in the mor–” The wind left her lungs in the form of a yelp as she was thrown over Loki’s shoulder and he blipped out of existence from the lab.

Make my messes matter Make this chaos count Let every little fracture in me Shatter out loud

Despite the fact that every member of the team had accommodations at Stark Tower, Becca had maintained her small apartment in the city. It was across the street from a small community park, filled with trees and laughing children, and not a single concern about HYDRA or alien races or some other world problem. It had quickly become their little escape spot whenever they felt the tower was staring at them too hard or too often.

Becca had been apprehensive of bringing Loki here. No one could ever say that she lived in the lap of luxury or that she had the best and most comfortable furnishings in the land, but this little shoebox was her safe space–her own little world. She feared Loki would have more than a few less than kind things to say about it. Instead, he embraced the familiar coziness of the small sofas and huddled into the warmth of the afghans she would wrap him in when he inevitably fell asleep while intending to devour her book collection. Not only that, but he looked so at peace in her little world. Every morning she woke to him neck-deep in bedsheets and duvets, looking as if he had been sharing that bed with her from the moment she got this apartment, just after her doctorate.

“No, Tony, I don’t know where Mischief is,” she said into the STARKphone balanced on her shoulder as she played with Loki’s hair. The man in question smirked up at her from his place on her lap. “Did you check his room? The library? What does his GPS say?” She contained a giggle when Loki turned to blow raspberries into her stomach to make her laugh. “I’m at home, working on that plasma cannon patent you wanted.” Biting down on her lip, she smacked Loki’s shoulder to deter his agenda of making her break. “OK. Talk to you later, Tony.” When Becca hung up, her eyes narrowed at the giggling man with the bright blue eyes. “I will have to find some way to punish you for that.”

Loki chuckled, his long arms drawing her torso down so he could kiss her. “Mmm… punish away, love.”

“Kinky bastard.”

He frowned momentarily. “You’re the one who insists on following Stark’s rules, not I. Why am I the one being punished?”

Becca rolled her eyes, as if she hadn’t answered this question a million times before. “If he knew you the way I do, we wouldn’t need any damn rules.”

“Darling, if he knew me the way you do, I would have swindled him out of his company with a thorough fuc–”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” She groaned, but promptly bent down to recapture his lips with her own. He pretended he was unaffected by the precious ache that tore his soul whenever she indulged his ridiculousness, every time she tended to a fissure in his dry, sarcastic armor.

Make my messes matter Make this chaos count Let every little fracture in me Shatter out loud

The breeze that blew through the summer leaves was perfumed with flowers and the lingering scent of petrichor from an earlier shower. It sweetened the secretive meeting under the great oak tree. Loki had walked away in a huff after a disagreement with Thor, and Becca had been at her home all week, working on some paperwork for Stark. It wouldn’t be long before Thor, Tony, or even Natasha went off to search for him, so they enjoyed each other’s company for as long as they could.

“Have you ever been off-world?” Loki asked, back against the tree with Becca resting on his chest, between his legs. He was playing with her hair, making long braids and twisting them into patterns on her head.

Becca laughed. “Have I been to space? No. I have not.”

“I should take you somewhere. There’s so much more than dreary Midgard.” He kissed her cheek as he pinned a braid behind her ear. “I could take you somewhere pretty.”

“I’m sure traveling with someone who’s pissed off half the galaxy is a grand idea, Loki,” she teased, and he pinched her side lightly before chuckling.

“They don’t hate me everywhere.” He considered it shortly while twisting a strand into a rose. “Just most places.”

She half-turned in her spot, leaving Loki to stop his work to attend her focused stare. “Loki, I love…t-to travel. It’d be fun to go off-world with you.” Her cheeks were a deep shade of red when she turned back around, leaving Loki to smile, almost proudly to himself. The smile faltered almost, instantly, the darker side of him chiming in about how it was a bad idea to get attached. She had not been wrong–his reputation would more than likely land them both in hot water. It took more than a minute to bring himself back to the whimsical state of mind he had been in a few seconds prior.

Becca’s phone buzzed and she turned it over to see a text from Tony that read Need to discuss web-shooter patents, followed by Tell Lokes I said hi. “Oh, busted.” She giggled before getting onto her knees and turning to face him. “I’ll see you later, Loki,” she muttered, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him before getting up and dusting the dirt off. “Don’t forget to lock the door behind you when you leave.” She was out of sight a moment later.

Her smile felt like a balm to his troubled soul. But it was still troubled. Why did every little morsel of affection feel like a wound and why did he want them so badly? Was it because of the affection or the pain? Did she deserve to live with this darkness? Would it dim her light? Could he even think about letting her go?

Groaning, he banished all thought from his brain and made his way back to her apartment. He would worry about this later.

#Loki #Lover #Others #Submitted fic #submission #Fanfictrashdump #atlas space #jupiter #chapter 7

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Text

a conspiracy theory - chapter 14

co-written by @snowdog49 and @jeanhaavoc

summary: Detective Roy takes on a challenging task… To find Olivier Armstrong’s sword. However, he has a beautiful woman to distract him along the way. Will he, Jean, and Ed be able to find the sword in time, or will they succumb to the conspiracy?

warning: graphic depictions of violence

tags: conspiracy, pining, unresolved sexual tension, private detective au, royai, havolina, mystery, violence, modern au, coffee shops

rated: m | words: 2760

read on ao3

One of Roy’s legs bounced impatiently as he waited. With his elbows resting on his knees, he’d leaned forward in his chair with his hands clasped before his mouth. His grip was tight but he didn’t really notice. Apart from the bouncing leg, he hadn’t moved since he’d sat down. He was wound up, adrenaline running on high, but unable to move or spend any energy. There was nowhere for him to go anyway.

Beside him, Rebecca wasn’t faring much better. She shifted every now and then, but mostly she remained still and chewed on her lip and the nail of her thumb. Roy wanted to comfort her, should comfort her, but there was nothing he could do. Not yet, anyway. He only knew as much as her, so it was just a waiting game until someone arrived and told them something, anything.

The wait was killing him. Roy needed to know. His fist tightened, knowing that he’d ordered a move that resulted in the pain of another person, let alone a co-worker. He couldn’t even do anything about it. It was eating at him, guilt swirling around his body. He should’ve been there. It should’ve been him. He didn’t even know what happened.

‘He’s been shot’. The words felt heavy as Roy played with them in his mind, and they made an uncomfortable weight settle inside his stomach. He hated them. A fury burned inside his chest with a passion. How dare this happen? Not only that, but there was nothing for him to go on. He was a detective. It was his job to know things, to find out things, and he couldn’t even do that for someone he cared about.

His arms lowered slowly, almost creaking after being held tensed for so long. His elbows dug into his knees almost painfully.

“The patient is ready to see you now,” a nurse called gently to them both.

Before Roy had even registered what was said, he was up and out of his chair. He’d been wired sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, so that when he did finally move and was given direction, he was like a tightly coiled spring finally releasing.

Turning, he ushered Rebecca forward first as the nurse walked ahead, escorting them both down the hallway. Roy steeled himself, stepping into the hospital room with anticipation crawling all over his skin. He didn’t know what he would see and wasn’t quite as mentally prepared as he’d liked to be for seeing the worst.

“Hey guys!” Jean cried happily. He was lying in the bed with a dopey look on his face. He grinned at them, offering a clumsy wave with one hand. The other was trapped in a sling across his body. Roy’s eyes caught movement from the IV needle in Jean’s arm, noticing how it flailed around.

“Careful, Mr. Havoc,” the nurse admonished. She hurried over and gently restrained his arm, lowering it back down to the bed so she could check the needle’s placement.

Jean’s head craned around her hands to look at it. Then he giggled. “Oops. Sorry!”

“It’s fine, Sir. Just be careful.”

Roy didn’t blame the woman for batting Jean’s hands away as he tried to poke at the needle. She was just trying to do her job and Jean was off his face on drugs, messing about with all her hard work. He was half tempted to believe Jean was fine since he was in such a good mood.

“He’s on quite a bit of morphine,” the nurse explained as she walked away. Roy noticed she didn’t turn her back on her patient and kept an eye on his IV. Jean was just grinning back at them, perfectly at ease. “But that will wear off soon. If he starts poking at that needle, the machine will beep.” She gestured towards Jean’s bed. “If it does, come and find me.” She closed the door softly behind her, giving them some privacy.

“Hey, Jean,” Rebecca greeted as she walked towards the bed.

“Rebecca!” He was ecstatic to see her. “I love you,” he crooned. He leaned onto his good side, obviously looking for a kiss.

Roy felt relief wash over him, seeing Jean awake and talking. Even if he was drugged up. He was alright at least, and he was safe.

“I love you too,” Rebecca replied. Her voice was soft and she gripped his hand tightly, the whites of her knuckles showing. “Are you alright?”

“Feel fine!” he grinned. “This stuff they have me on, it’s great! I can’t feel my face though…” He trailed off, suddenly looking very troubled. His mouth was closed, but suddenly his lips were pushed outwards as he ran his tongue over his teeth. Jean shrugged, and the grin was back. “Nah, can’t feel it.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Roy asked. He needed to now. He needed to know who he needed to find.

“Roy! Roy Boy. Mustang.” Jean cackled to himself, drawing out the ‘a’ in his surname, finding it hilarious. It was like he was drunk.

“Hey, Jean,” Roy smiled softly. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too! I can’t feel my teeth,” he snorted, giggling to himself. At least he was in good spirits, even if it was the morphine talking. “Wait, we’re missing someone.” Jean leaned onto his bad side to look at the door behind Roy and froze. His expression turned into a grimace.

“Careful!” Rebecca quickly grabbed his shoulders and righted him, moving his weight off his injured side. “Are you okay?”

“That hurt,” Jean mumbled. His loud, jovial tone was gone. He suddenly sounded like a small child after they’d fallen over and hurt themselves.

“Take it easy, man,” Roy commanded gently. He pulled the one chair in the room over to Jean’s bedside and motioned for Rebecca to sit. “We’re all fine, I promise. But more importantly, how are you?”

“Sore… but this stuff I’m on is really good. It’s helping.” That rush of pain he’d received from being too overeager had sobered Jean up a little, and his demeanor was much calmer. He still looked slightly crazed, but he was acting less like an excited puppy and more like his old self.

“Good, that’s what’s important. Just take it easy.”

“Everyone else is okay?” Jean asked earnestly. “No one else is hurt?”

Rebecca and Roy shared a look.

“Does anyone have a reason to be?” Roy asked carefully.

“I… I don't know. But Ed’s not here…” He looked like he was about to cry.

“Honey, Ed’s fine. He’s at home. Nothing has happened to him.”

“Are you sure?” Jean’s eyes were wide, and that was when Roy became concerned.

“We’re sure,” Rebecca reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze.

His whole body sagged and Jean relaxed further into the bed. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Okay, good.”

Roy turned, lightly touching Rebecca’s shoulder. “I’m going to go and find another chair. Look after this dummy for me, yeah?”

He noticed the wetness in her eyes which she smiled and nodded gratefully to him.

“I heard that,” Jean muttered.

“Good,” Roy grinned. “I’ll be back in five.”

He said he’d be five minutes, but Roy purposefully waited fifteen before walking back to Jean’s room. He wanted to give them a moment of privacy together. Plus, after Jean’s worried questions, he quickly texted Ed to ask where he was and if he was okay. Roy could almost feel the accusation through the text, but still, it was an answer. A quick reply with ‘no reason’ was bound to confuse and irritate his protege, but it was better than explaining everything over a text. Roy would call him later and fill him in.

When he walked in the room both heads turned to look at him. Their hands were gripped together tightly in Jean’s lap and Rebecca looked like she never wanted to let go. Another grateful smile was shot his way from Rebecca, thankful for the moment of privacy, and Jean looked a lot calmer than he had before. Roy didn’t doubt that she’d caused that. They could both be firecrackers, but Rebecca could calm Jean down with just her touch alone, or a few words. He hung onto every one, like a lovesick man, and Roy had envied it. They were so perfect, and the two honestly deserved each other. It was like they were destined to be.

“So,” Roy announced, sitting heavily on his chair. “What happened to you, man?”

“Kimblee shot me,” he snorted. He didn’t miss a beat with his answer and his face darkened.

Roy’s hands made fists on his knees.

“He caught me following him at this park.” Jean scowled and looked away. “I don’t know how,” he muttered. “This is my specialty, he shouldn’t have been able to notice me.”

Roy shot a helpless look at Rebecca, then back at his friend.

“I know, Hun, but that’s okay. Don’t worry about that right now,” Rebecca reassured him. “What else happened?”

“Can you start from the top?” Roy requested, his tone apologetic. He was clearly all over the place with the morphine, but with a little direction, Roy would be able to get to the bottom of this with Jean’s assistance.

“Right, sorry,” Jean apologized sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Roy placated, leaning over onto his arms. “I just need to know the whole story so I can help you.”

“Okay,” Jean sighed. “So I followed Kimblee about. He went into a store. It was just a generic one and I don’t remember the name, before you ask. Then he wandered for a bit towards the address of the meeting, but didn’t go there. It was like he wanted to, but wouldn’t quite go directly. He was speaking on the phone for a short time. He sounded a little agitated but I was too far away to hear what they were talking about. I really did try to listen,” he urged, like a child trying to get an adult to understand them. The painkillers must have been really strong.

“We know you did, Hun” Rebecca reassured him, patting his arm gently.

“But, I couldn’t hear a thing. I crossed the street and sat on a bench. It was just inside the park, slightly hidden from view where Kimblee was standing. It was the perfect spot too because the building was just around the corner from where Kimblee was standing, so I would be able to see him walking into it without moving. He was on the phone for a while, I can’t remember how long,” Jean shook his head. “I was reading the paper and having a smoke so I didn’t have a chance to check the time. Then, Kimblee hung up and walked towards me.”

“He saw you?”

Jean shrugged. “He must have. I was playing it cool though, just kept reading. Then he stopped, and said my name.”

“... Your full name?” Roy asked. He didn’t like the sound of this.

Jean nodded, and the weight in Roy’s stomach sank even lower. “First and last name. He wasn’t happy. He’d obviously figured out what I was doing. I tried to keep the peace, tell him to calm down, and play it cool. He wouldn’t listen, but he wasn’t talking. He just smiled.”

“And then?” Roy prompted, his tone gentle.

“Next thing I knew, I was on the floor. It felt as if I got hit with a baseball bat. I didn’t really know what had happened. The bastard was still smiling at me as he lowered the gun. I didn’t quite know what was happening but I was so angry.” Jean’s hand made a fist. “I wanted to get up, off the floor, and punch that smug look off his face, but my body wouldn’t move. Someone was screaming, I think. Kimblee disappeared, walking out of the park and in the direction of the building, so I tried to get to my phone, but I was stuck. Then, I realized I’d been shot.”

“Shit, man,” Roy muttered.

“Getting shot sucks,” Jean groaned, holding his shoulder. “Let me tell you! Fucking hurts.”

Rebecca sniffed beside him.

“I… I have to ask, sorry, but did he go to the building?” Roy continued after casting a glance over to her.

“He didn’t,” Jean confirmed, sounding completely sure of himself. “While I was on the floor he disappeared, but I saw him cross the street and walk in the opposite direction. I don’t know if he went back later.”

“I don’t imagine he would have,” Roy thought aloud. He leaned back in his chair, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. “You said you heard someone screaming. Who called you to say he’d been shot, Rebecca?”

“The hospital,” she replied, her voice husky. “We’re listed as emergency contacts in each other’s phones.”

“There would’ve been too much attention drawn to the area in order for Kimblee to get inside.” Roy hummed to himself. “Maybe too much for them to even have their little meeting tonight. Did you hear the shot?”

Jean shook his head. “I didn’t hear it. I don’t know why,” he frowned.

“If you heard screaming that meant someone saw you go down. Whether they saw Kimblee’s face or not though…” Roy grimaced. “If the Police Chief is in the pocket of these people, and if that witness went to the police, Kimblee would probably be swept underneath the rug completely.” Roy sighed in frustration.

It was so unfair on Jean to suffer because of this. He’d been innocent! Just sitting on a park bench! And yet the police would ignore it because their chief is comfortable in their pocket.

“You said you didn’t know why you heard the shot?” Roy repeated.

Jean nodded. “Yeah. I just felt a fucking hard hit then I twisted to the side and fell off the bench.”

Roy scrunched his face, noting a tiny red graze by his eyebrow. His face must have scuffed along the ground.

“That could also be why it took you so long to realize what had happened. The gun could have been silenced. I mean, if he was going to shoot anyone who got in his way so openly in a park or on the street, he must’ve had the forethought to silence the weapon -”

Rebecca’s shoulders began to shake. Roy heard her sniff and it stopped his train of thought.

“Becca?” Jean’s voice was full of concern.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she reassured them, waving her hand in the air.

Roy’s stomach dropped. He’d been too blasé and too insensitive, after all, her boyfriend had just been shot in the street by a hitman and left to die. God, he was the worst.

“No… Rebecca, I’m sorry,” Roy stammered.

“It’s alright,” she stated firmly. “I’m okay. Keep going, this is important.”

Roy eyed her for a second longer, then looked towards Jean. He was staring at his girlfriend in sympathy.

“Becca?” he called to her. “I’m okay.”

“I know you are,” she smiled, but it wobbled on her face. “I know. It… was just a lot to go through in a short space of time.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Please, don’t mind me. Keep going.”

“We’ll always keep you in mind, Rebecca,” Roy reassured her. “I didn’t mean to sound so detached about it.”

Jean snorted quietly. “He’s in love with his work, remember,” he joked, trying to brighten the mood like he always did. A Jean Havoc special. “No wonder he can never break out of ‘Detective Mode’. I hope you’re not this way with Riza,” he frowned at Roy, causing a quiet laugh to escape from Rebecca.

Roy chuckled. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re not, or you hope you’re not?” Jean retorted with shit-eating grin.

“She’s gone back out with me,” Roy replied defensively. “So I must be doing something right.”

“Or she just takes pity on you,” Jean chuckled.

“Listen, you,” Roy bit back, pointing at Jean with his pointer finger. “You just focus on getting yourself better, rather than what’s happening in my love life.”

“Oh!” Jean gasped. “He’s got a love life now.” He grinned at Rebecca. “Our boy is finally growing up,” he sniffed, proud of Roy. “I never dreamed this day would come!”

Looking heavenward, Roy sighed heavily. It was all in good fun, and it had cheered up Rebecca, which was important to him. And Jean was right. He needed to stop being so callous. His friend had been shot. He should forget about the damn case for once in his life.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #snowdog49 #a conspiracy theory #emma writes #collab fic

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