#eventually she drops off into muttering to herself. takes a minute for anyone to realize she's reciting the names of the seas and currents

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Short little fic that I wrote irresponsibility (chose to write this instead of the million other things I needed to): Part 8/11 + 9/11

Fake dating :}

Caitlyn: LET ME PROTECT YOU!!!, Vi: SCREW OFF, them: oops *falls in love* (a consistent theme in my writing and literally just their storyline) <3

Sad ending :(

They get to be cute tho ;>]

Starts off corny :/

Wrote in my notes app so take a wild guess how at edited it is :]

Implied homophobia and prejudice + non graphic fights and bullying :0

Modern AU :^|

They’re in high school for some intents and purposes ;{

Caitlyn walked Vi home after a party (thankfully where no altercations took place as they kept to themselves and everyone stared, as usual, but both of them were too busy looking at the other to notice), stating her parents had raised her right as a reason for it.

The rain only started as a drizzle, but began to truly pour as soon as Vi opened the door to The Last Drop.

Vander had seen the two of them arrive, only now flipping the stools onto the counter for an early close, insisting that Caitlyn stay until the rain passes.

Caitlyn thanks him ten too many times, finally formally introducing herself with a firm handshake and a grin.

Vi watches the exchange awkwardly yet with a badly hidden smile, Vander towering over Caitlyn despite her own height.

He starts to lead the two of them downstairs to the living room and Vi wants to protest.

Too much, too real, but she’s too slow, the two of them at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her expectantly.

She reluctantly joins them, heavy footsteps descending down into their living area, meeting Powder, Claggor, Mylo and Ekko all yelling about their game of the night.

Caitlyn’s nervous (which is cuter than it should be to Vi), waving at all of them as Vander nudges her to join them.

There’s only one seat left, Caitlyn and Vi silently argue until Caitlyn finally sits down, Vi deciding that planting herself on the armrest is good enough for her.

Caitlyn watches how at ease Vi is with her family, joking and jostling each other about as if they’ve been doing it since they could remember. It should be impossible for anybody to shine so bright, but Vi is far from just anybody. Strong and kind and everything anyone could ask for if they simply sat down to listen.

Ekko offers his controller to Caitlyn after a few rounds, explaining what each button is for.

It’s fun for about two minutes before Powder gets up and storms away into their shared room.

Mylo mutters something useless under his breath, Vi doesn’t have the mind to figure out what it is, too busy going after Powder.

She’s rolled up into a ball, the heels of her palms dug into her forehead.

Vi stays a safe distance away, sitting down and whispering the best reassurances she can think of into the space between them.

She can’t admit that some of the reassurances are for her as well.

Her and Caitlyn aren’t real, it’ll all be over soon and everything will be back to normal.

Powder insists that Vi needs to get rid of her as soon as possible through quieter sobs.

Eventually, she falls asleep, even after looking at Vi as if she’s ripped her apart from the inside out.

Vi’s knees pop as she gets up from her position, leaving the room as quietly as possible despite the creaking of the old floor boards and the rusting door.

Her face drops further when she realizes Caitlyn’s gone, Mylo saying she said to say goodnight to Vi for her.

Did her parents not raise her to say goodbye to her fake girlfriend face to face after her sister has a breakdown before leaving into the night, too?

)))))))))))))))))))))))))

Caitlyn’s trying to find the perfect words to mend the odd energy between her and Vi.

Vi tells her there’s no need for any of it, but something tugging on Caitlyn’s heart is telling her this is a need.

Vi is gracious at first with her, arguably guarded, telling her it’s not much of her concern or something she needs to worry about and that their situation is complicated.

But something deep in Vi wears her down as they lay side to side in Caitlyn’s bed that gets Vi to open up about how they all grew up, about all the little cuts and bruises that make her her and them them.

She gets sidetracked a few times, sharing separate stories about getting caught sneaking around or all the different kinds of scoldings they’d get from Vander through their childhood.

Caitlyn was perfectly content with listening as was Vi with sharing. The time they’ve spent together feeling as if it has been building up to this moment of vulnerability.

Caitlyn’s silent, tentative as she reaches forward for Vi’s cheek.

Caitlyn admires Vi’s openness and constant tenacity, wondering if she, personally, could ever get to that point.

Vi accepts it, keeps it close only for a bit longer until the world becomes more than them, Caitlyn and Vi, who aren’t real. A mere temporary arrangement she has no idea how she’ll live without.

At this point, or since this started, it’s as if Caitlyn needed to protect Vi more than Vi needed the protection in the first place.

She’s not ready to address what that could mean.

[balemouns]

if paimon could still speak as much as she always did, she was probably fine. barely a glance had been given in her direction when the ceiling dropped a little on her -- but arlecchino considered what laid before them with a little more concern while she and aventurine looked it over. if this door can suppress malevolent energy... at the very least, she decided, it was best to not touch it herself. eventually, caution yielded its way to breaking off a chain, then welding it to the door itself -- and summoning the seat of her lost people while waiting a few minutes for it to cool. a rumble came almost the same instant she stood to check the chain's sturdiness...

arlecchino's feet quickly leap away from where they stand at the command of an instinct rather than a conscious awareness. rock falls hard inches just away to the ground --- and looking up to spot mr. aventurine pressing himself quick against the wall and sedene missing a hit as well, arlecchino lunges for the chain and starts pulling. hearing another rock collide somewhere with a softer thunk as she does so, full strength falters, but the door creaks open easily, releasing a rush of cold with it -- dark eyes marked with scarlet whip around to see that aventurine has also taken hold of the chain, and just beyond him, a chunk of ceiling has landed on lyney.

damn it -- ... not him.

and if it was really holding something in... why did the door open so easily? the thought haunts her as arlecchino glances up to the ceiling, but makes her way quickly over to lyney -- eyes dart around again as she offers down a darkened hand to help him up. aventurine in the doorway, muttering something she can’t quite hear. officer sedene is looking inside just behind him as the blond man calls back louder. "anyone have a light source?"

he doesn't go unheard, but her voice stays quieter first, only for the person in front of her as attention turns towards him. "are you alright?" then, arlecchino's voice projects back to answer the question without turning her head. "of course." two, in fact... if lyney was unharmed.

and lyney mostly looks... stunned, but otherwise okay. “ah…yes, i’m fine, father. don’t worry about me.”

a harsh breath drags in, trying to temper adrenaline. they still needed to hurry, though, as aventurine said -- and as both head over to the door, sedene starts to head further into the room behind it as well, pointing at the floor and walls. "there's more ichor here!"

when they reach the door, lyney produces an arrow for aventurine with its tip set ablaze before she can raise her own hand to bare its cursed flames. a nod acknowledges sedene's discovery, before arlecchino looks around again just barely inside the doorway for the traveler's floating companion. did she get hit again?

as sedene starts to head in just past aventurine, the man offers the arrow down to her, "since you can see best, why don't you head us off." and unsurprisingly, the melusine takes it -- illuminating the path before them as what could barely be described as a damp and cold room that leads to a descending spiral staircase.

"I will lead the way! not to worry, monsieur aventurine." she sets off with an enthusiastic waddle. "watch your step!"

after a sigh, arlecchino brings up her hand to summon another flame to illuminate their party further, and turns to finally see paimon following just behind them, unscathed this time but still as weary as before. she glances forward almost as quickly as she looked back to notice the fairy.

lips tighten -- just as calm finally comes back to her, arlecchino realizes that the sense of malice and misery this place holds is almost overwhelming, assaulting of all her senses. "... stay vigilant," said to everyone, no one in particular. "whatever horrors this place holds... it seems the ceiling truly was just the beginning."

and with this cold... at least they had plenty of fire.

week 1 end: into the depths we go.

♠　⋮﹒ temple of betrayal　—　first ordinance.

　　 　　　　 　❪　event. solstice　/　requiem of season's end　❫

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

i.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

For anyone curious and if I did my math correctly y/ns dad had him when he was 35. This one feels short and I hate ittt but I tried making it feel longer. The chunks are just thicc

~

"So, why are we going to Belgium?" Natasha asked, setting the course. You looked at her, taking a seat beside her.

"Cause.. I have family there.. She might be family, I don't now." You answered, feeling the jet move forward before it took off into the sky.

"Family? Like, blood related? Who?" Natasha asked, glancing at you. You licked your lips, staring forward.

"My aunt." Natasha's brows raised, looking over at you. You sighed, nodding.

"What if she turns me away?" You asked softly.

"Well.. You're probably her only remaining family. I wouldn't want to turn away a family member." Natasha licked her lips, looking forward at the passing clouds.

"What do I even say? Hey, I'm (Y/N) and I have superpowers?"

"Well, you can introduce yourself and ask about her brother." Natasha gave a small smile. You nodded.

"How's Clint?" Natasha asked, rested her head on her fist. Her hair was long and her natural red locks were returning. It made her hair look a little weird but she was going through a lot of things.

"Who fucking knows." You frowned, arms crossing. Clint had fucked off to god knows where, leaving you to deal with your grief alone. Natashas' brows furrowed.

"Clint has decided not to return home in what feels like weeks. Maybe even months, I haven't been paying attention." You shrugged lightly. Natasha frowned, leaning back in the seat. Definitely didn't sound like Clint but grief could make people do crazy things.

"I've been trying to keep up with the house but I'm just one guy handling everything Clint decided to build and add on." You licked your lips, shaking your head and letting out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. "I'll talk to him if you want."

"Let him do whatever the hell he wants to do. He's a grown man." You replied, feeling bitter and resentful. Natasha silently nodded. The rest of the ride was silent until the jet reached Belgium.

"We're here." You stepped out of the jet, feeling a small breeze go by. You felt your stomach doing flips, heartbeat quickening. You took in a deep breath, glancing at Natasha. She placed a gentle hand on your back, offering a small smile.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get in touch with Clint?" She asked, head tilting. You shook your head.

"It could make things more complicated." You said, looking around. The house across the street matched with the address Tony had given you. It was more on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees. You could hear some horses behind the house. You took in a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves as you walked towards the house, crossing the road. Natasha followed, studying the area.

"Seems like gardening might run in the family." Natasha said, motioning to the flower garden.

"Yeah.." You chuckled softly. You stepped onto the porch, noticing some plotted flowers on the windowsill. You raised your hand, pressing the doorbell. You waited a few minutes about to press it again before the door opened. A scowl appeared on Florines' face. She was shorter than you had imagined. Her hair was a bit messy and tied back into a low ponytail.

"Wat wil je?" She asked, gaze flickering over to Natasha. You swallowed, fiddling with your fingers.

"Are you Florine De Meyers?" You asked, watching her narrow her eyes.

"Who's asking?"

"(Y/N).. I think I might be the son of your brother." You said quietly. Florine stared at you, lips parting. Her features softened for a second before the frown returned. She opened the door wider, letting you and Natasha inside. The inside of the house smelled like black tea, earthy and floral. It felt straight out of a country movie.

"I've got some tea and speculoos." Florine called as she entered the kitchen. You looked at the pictures she had up. Most were pictures of horses or her at events with friends. You didn't see any pictures that seemed family related. You took a seat on the floral patterned couch, gazing dropping onto the unbothered elderly sheepdog. It made no attempt to move and simply rolled onto its side to face away from you.

"That's Gerdie. Old girl used to be a good guard dog but now she's more of a house cat." Florine said, sitting down and placing a tray on the coffee table. Natasha reached forward, taking one of the biscuits. Florine reached under the table, looking through the books she had before pulling out what looked like a photo book.

"The reason I didn't slam the door in your face is because Michael had told me he was gonna have a kid named (Y/N)." Florine said, hand wiping away the dust in the book. She scooted forward, placing the book on the table.

"Michael?" You repeated, looking at her. She nodded, opening the book. She flipped to the second page, pointing to a picture of a young boy by a fireplace opening presents.

"Michael, my half brother and your father." Your brows raised, leaning in to take a better look. The photo was old but you could see his face clearly. Natasha leaned in as well, smiling gently.

"You have his smile." She pointed out.

"Michael and his father moved here from America when he was about five. He met my mother and they got married. They had me when Michael was nine. He was a good brother. He held no resentment towards me or my mom. Michael was as stubborn as a mule and he could never keep his mouth shut. He'd let you know if he didn't agree with you." Florine chuckled, shaking her head. You watched the nostalgic look pass over her eyes.

"What happened to him?" You asked softly. Florine let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair. She reached down, giving Gerdie some pats on the head.

"He disappeared for some time." She answered, gaze becoming distant.

"He wrote letters occasionally. Said he was working for a government in another country.. He might've been some sort of spy, my memory's a little fuzzy on the subject. He spent a long time working but.. He came back eventually. He never talked about it but he was good ole Michael." Florine leaned forward again, flipping to another page of a more grown up Michael. You did notice some similar features between him and you.

"By then, our father had passed from cancer and my mother needed all the help she could get. Michael built this house with some friends of his and gave it to my mother. Oh, my mother was so happy. She got the farm she had always wanted and got to garden whenever she could." Florine pointed to a a couple in the photobook.

"This is your grandmother, Sylvie. You would've loved her. She made the best cakes in town. This is your grandfather, Jonathan. He was always up to no good. He loved pulled helping the kids in town with pranks." Florine spoke of them fondly. Her childhood seemed to have been good with Jonathon and Sylvie.

"You have powers, right?" Florine asked, looking at you. You nodded, reaching out to the plant on the coffee table and watching it grow taller.

"She passed on her powers to you." Florine leaned back, clearing her throat. You glanced at Natasha, noticing her eating another biscuit.

"She? Who's she?" You asked, looking back at Florine.

"Your witch of a mother." She answered bitterly. You raised your brows at the hate and disgust in her tone.

"I shouldn't speak ill of her. Even if she deserves it." Florine muttered, standing up with a heavy sigh.

"C'mon." She motioned for you to follow. You turned towards Natasha. Natasha picked up another biscuit, making eye contact with you. You raised your brows.

"What? These are delicious!" Natasha huffed. You chuckled, standing up and following her out the backdoor. You noticed the stables with the horses walking around their fenced area. Florine had a vegetable garden and a greenhouse out back as well.

"Those pretty babies are Ernie, Kuma, and Goldie." Florine said, motioning to the horses. They approached the fence when she walked over to them. You smiled softly as she petted them, cooing in Dutch.

"They won't bite. Well, Ernie might but he's just a playful old man." Florine chuckled, turning back in the original direction. You followed her down a dirt path and into a wooded area. You blinked, seeing what looked like a moss covered statue of a woman. Her eyes were closed though her head was pointed downwards, looking at anyone who walked down the path.

"She was a charming little witch, I'll give her that." Florine crossed her arms, staring up at the statue. You tilted your head, licking your lips.

"Did he make this for her?" You asked, turning to look at her. Florine shook her head, looking down at the ground.

"Gaia, or better known as Mother Nature, is your mother. She took a human form in an attempt to convince humans to cherish what she had given them. When that proved useless, she spread plagues as punishment. What Gaia truly wanted.. Was a child. Animals, humans, and all those things were creations.. Projects she could ignore if she got bored. She met your father and he fell for her." Florine told you, another breeze blowing by. You reached your hand forward, gently touching a flower that rested by the statue. It felt full of life.

"Your mother fell pregnant with you and Michael was thrilled. Gaia had started realizing that human life wasn't for her. She was slowly becoming human herself. She disappeared with Michael and returned without him or you. She explained she couldn't stay and left her human body here."

"She abandonded me for no reason?" You stared up at the statue, features hardening.

"In some sense, she didn't. She's all around us so.. Your mother never truly left you." Florine said, turning to look at you. You scoffed.

"I have a mother. Her name is Laura Barton and she's not here anymore because of Thanos." You looked at Florine, blinking away tears.

"I don't blame you for being angry. I never found out where she took you or if you were even alive. If you want to keep in touch, I don't mind. Lord knows I could use the company." Florine looked forward again. You let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping.

"And.. And dad? What happened to him?" You asked hesitantly, almost afraid of finding out he had done the same as Gaia. Florine stayed silent for a moment.

"He.. They never told me how it happened but.. He was murdered." Florine revealed, staring at the ground with a small frown. You stared at him, brows furrowing.

"What? By- By who?"

"You might've heard of him. People around town were talking about him a two or three years back. The infamous Winter Soldier."

~

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 1 - Meet the Players

Marinette originally came to the IKEA an hour outside of Gotham to buy twinkle lights for her new living room. She eventually extended her trip into obtaining new dishes since all she had right now was empty takeout containers she kept rewashing. She would have been very content getting what she needed and being on her way, (no, she wasn't lonely Plagg, she had two dozen mini-gods to keep her company, shut up) but halfway between the bedding and lights sections, Marinette’s life changed forever. 

For the better, if she was being honest. 

She never would have realized it if she hadn’t ducked into a showroom to test out a couch. She settled against the fluffy folds, knowing it would be destroyed within minutes if she ever brought it home when she noticed him. A boy, no man, about her age, hiding behind a desk looking for all the world as if he were plotting world domination or someone’s demise. 

They looked at each other in shock for a moment. 

“Are… are you ok-”

“Shhh!” his green eyes narrowed, and boy, Marinette had been on the receiving end of death glares before, but this one had to take the cake. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

He rolled his eyes. “Do you see a group of dark-haired obnoxious idiots out there?” he asked. 

The request was an odd one, but Marinette rose from the couch and glanced around outside of the showroom. She didn’t see anyone fitting his description. She shook her head. 

He smirked. “My idiot older brothers dragged me along for a “family bonding experience”." He made the little quotation marks, and Marinette never thought anyone could look cool doing that, but somehow this person nailed it. "Tt. I’ve successfully avoided them for an hour. Didn’t know when the coast would be clear though.” He rose gracefully from the ground, looking all the more like a prince, rather than a crazy person hiding from his family. 

It was absurd. 

Marinette found herself instantly amused. 

“I have friends exactly like that, I totally get it,” she said, thinking how Adrian would be beside himself when she told him the story later. The pang of loneliness that had been present since she’d left her friends in Paris, for college in America re-emerged. She shook her head of the maudlin thoughts. 

The Kwamis would have had a field day with this idea too, thankfully she had left them in her severely under-furnished apartment for the day in order to avoid the squabbling that came with only taking a few of them out of the house.  

Marinette looked back out at the hallway again, wondering if the man's brothers would soon appear, finding herself invested in what would happen. “What are you going to do now?” 

“Well, Drake has the keys, and those idiots will be at their shenanigans till the store closes, so…” he shrugged. 

“Are they like… furnishing a whole house?” Marinette didn’t know how you could spend an entire day here. Sure, it was big, but… 

“No. We’re engaged in a no holds barred game of hide-and-seek.” Marinette’s mouth dropped open. “If one of them catches me I become the seeker.” 

“Why?” 

He smirked, “Because I’ve held out the longest.” 

"No, I mean, why are you playing hide-and-seek?" It seemed an odd choice for a bunch of adults. Well, Marinette and her friends would do it. But they also willing became superheroes at the age of fourteen so their judgment was already in question.   

He shrugged. "My oldest brother thought it would be fun, and our father is... out of town at the moment," he said with a bit of hesitation. 

“So, you’re just going to hide in this showroom till the store closes?” 

A devious smile spread across the man’s handsome features. “No. I intend to troll them. If Grayson wants my participation, I'm going to make him regret it.” 

It was at that moment she crossed the point of no return, not that Marinette knew it yet.

Throwing away any idea of finishing her shopping today she returned his smirk. “Any chance I could join you in your crusade?” 

The guy looked her over suspiciously. “Why should I allow a stranger to join me and potentially ruin my chances at victory?” 

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, your brothers know you well?” He nodded. “Then they likely know what you’ll do to avoid and troll them. You need a fresh perspective. Plus, I can operate out in the open, I’m not officially a part of the game.” 

“Hmm...” his face was impassive; Marinette couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “You make some good points, but I’m not fully convinced.” 

Marinette huffed, “I also grew up in Paris without being akumatized.” 

He looked at her oddly. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Paris had a terrorist for five years that turned people into monsterized versions of themselves if they felt negative feelings. They were called Akuamas. Everyone in my class had it happen to them at least once. More for some particularly loose cannons.” 

The guy looked bewildered. “Why didn’t anyone hear about this?” 

Marinette shrugged, trying to play off her knowledge as what a normal civilian would know. “Combination of corrupt politicians, social media blackouts, and magic. People died during these attacks, but everything was put to rights at the end of every fight due to the superheroes powers.” 

His mouth dropped, but he recovered quickly looking contemplative. “I want to know more about this at a later time, but if what you say is true you can control yourself better than the average peon. But my brothers and I are a combination of street orphans, circus brats, gymnastics freaks, and geniuses - are you sure you can keep up?” 

Marinette nearly laughed at his description but managed to keep a straight face. “Positive.” 

“Alright, I'll do whatever it takes to win.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Damian.” 

She took it, feeling a slight shock as her fingers touched his. “I’m Marinette, nice to meet you, Damian.” 

“You won’t be saying that soon enough,” he said with a slight smirk. He looked over her shoulder. “Shit.” He dove beneath the desk he’d been hiding behind earlier. “Tall guy with the white streak in his hair.” Marinette turned to look. “Don’t make it too obvious,” he hissed. 

Marinette grabbed her phone and leaned against the desk. With small side glances, she saw a man probably mid to late twenties with two-toned hair. He wore a leather jacket and seemed to be searching for something, or someone. 

“Who’s that?” she asked quietly. 

“Second oldest brother, Jason Todd - arguably the most and least dangerous.” 

“Why both?” 

“He did not want to participate initially, so he’s reluctant, but at the same time, he hates losing.  He’ll hang on to the bitter end. More resourceful than the other two, and more violent, although less sophisticated.” 

Jason moved closer to their showroom. 

“Hush, he’s headed this way,” she whispered. Damian remained quiet and Marinette tried to make herself look busy. 

“Quick question miss?” Marinette glanced up from her phone. Jason stood at the entrance to the showroom. 

“Oh, uh, oui? Non, non, I mean yes?” Marinette said in an exaggerated accent, playing into the oblivious tourist stereotype always came in handy. 

“Oh French, shit, haven’t spoken that in a while,” he muttered. “Um...” 

“Non, it iz okay, I speak English well. Can I help you?” She batted her eyes just a bit. Marinette had long since grown from the days of not using all her advantages - courtesy of forced confidence from Chole. A friendship no one had seen coming but had grown quick and strong once they reached an understanding. 

“Oh, I’m looking for my little brother, about yay high, black hair, green eyes, permanent scowl. Have you seen him?” 

Marinette pretended to think for a second. “Non... I do not theenk so, perhaps help desk at zee front?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jason said, Marinette could see he had already written her off as useless. “Thanks, anyway.” He walked away quickly. 

There was a minute of silence. “Coast is clear,” said Marinette once Jason was out of sight. 

Damian popped up, a gleam in his eyes. “Your lying skills are adequate; we may just win this yet.” 

“I’m glad to meet such high approval, monsieur. Let’s get going.” 

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3 

Chapter 4

[bellakitse]

Making friends in Life or Death situations

“No,” Nancy shakes her head quickly, tightening her hold on his face so he can focus on her. “You have to stay awake,” she continues, her voice cracking as fear grips her again. This is her friend, sure they don’t know each other that well, but Carlos is nice and sweet and the love of her partner’s life. He’s her friend, damn it, and she’s not going to lose him, not after losing Tim. “Please, stay awake.”

+

Carlos and Nancy are trapped together after a tornado hits the pharmacy they are in.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 2: Emergencies/“Please, stay awake.”/Angst

Nancy Gillian walks into the Walgreens just as her phone rings out another tornado warning. 

“Dear, we’re closing early, in 15 mins,” an older woman behind the counter says to her with a quick smile. “Because of the tornados.”

Nancy gives the woman a nod of acknowledgment and quickly makes her way down to the pet aisle. She wouldn’t even be out if it wasn’t for the fact that she realized she was down to her last can of cat food and with no time to make a Costco run for her new tabby. Looking through the limited selection, she picks a few of the chicken options, dropping them into her basket, and heads for the junk food aisle. Just some salt and vinegar Pringles to go with the leftover Easter chocolates she has back at her apartment, and she can head home and ride out the bad weather.

Turning the corner without looking in her rush to finish her shopping, she bumps face-first into a solid chest, bouncing right off it. She feels herself fall back and closes her eyes, bracing for the pain falling will cause, but it never comes. Instead, strong hands grab hold of her waist, keeping her upright.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry – Nancy?”

Nancy opens her eyes at the sound of her name, finding familiar brown eyes looking at her with concern.

“Officer Reyes!” she squeaks out, blushing when he raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, Carlos – hi!”

Carlos gives her a friendly smile in return. “Hello, Nancy.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly, gesturing around them. “I was in a rush to get what I need before the tornados touch down and wasn’t looking.”

“Same,” Carlos says with a laugh. “TK sent me to get what we need to ride it out before we are eventually called into work when it’s over.”

Nancy peeks into his basket, her eyebrows going up when she finds condoms, lubricant, and ice cream in it. “The essentials for sure,” she says dryly, biting back a smirk when she sees him blush and start to stammer in response. “Relax, officer,” she continues, feeling bad for how red he’s turned. “We all know how nauseatingly in love you and my partner are. This is not shocking.”

“Maybe not shocking, but embarrassing for sure,” Carlos grumbles back, scowling at her when she lets out a snort.

She grins at him, pleased when he gives her a reluctant smile back. She doesn’t know Carlos all that well. She’s been to his place a handful of times now that TK has made it a point to invite her when the rest of the 126 meets up at their apartment. But Carlos is usually in the kitchen making sure everyone is well-fed, and afterwards, he seems to enjoy sitting back and watch their brassier friends interact. She understands the instinct, feeling they’re a lot alike, which is why she can’t help but feel comfortable around him even though they’re not super familiar with each other.

She opens her mouth to tease him some more when a piercing siren rings out and the lights in the establishment flicker seconds before the whole place starts to shake.

“Shit,” Carlos curses, already on the move as he drops his basket and takes her arm, moving her further back.

“The cashier – “ she starts to say, only for her voice to get lost under the howling winds. It’s so loud; it sounds like a freight train barreling straight for them. She blinks, once, maybe twice, less than a second of time, but it’s all that’s needed for the front of the place to disappear under collapsing walls and ceiling.

She feels strong arms go around her waist, and the next thing she knows, she’s rolling across a hard surface and landing on the floor. Carlos covers her as best he can with his body, trying to make them as small as possible as they cower under the counter desk of the pharmacy section of the Walgreens. She can’t hear much past the whirling winds and her racing heart, but somewhere in there, she hears a hard grunt. She looks up at Carlos, still hovering over her, doing his best to protect her, but she sees pain clouding his expression.

“Are you okay?” she shouts, worry spiking her pulse as she sees a trail of blood rolling down the side of his face.

“Something hit me in the head and my back,” he grits out as the winds begin to calm down. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine; you’re bleeding,” she points out, not sure if he’s noticed yet. Given the way his eyes widen when he touches his hairline, she doesn’t think he has. She goes to say more when the walls around them let out a loud groan followed by a series of bangs as more of the place falls down around them.

She closes her eyes, tucking her face into Carlos’ shoulder.

Carlos pulls her closer to him in return, and she’s thankful for the kindness as she hides in his frame. If this is the end, she realizes she doesn’t actually want to see it.

A few minutes pass like this as she waits for it to end, be it the disaster or her life, she’s not really sure, but slowly the howling lessens until it’s only a dull echo in her ears.

“Nance – it’s stopping,” Carlos says softly, giving her a slight shake, bringing her back to the present.

Slowly she pulls back, surprised she can still see, realizing that somehow the lights have managed to stay on, flickering, but on. She looks at Carlos to find him giving her a concerned look.

“Well,” she starts to say, licking her lips nervously. “That was terrifying.”

Carlos lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a hiss.

“What, what is it?” she asks quickly as she watches his face go slightly grey.

“I – I think,” he stops, closing his eyes but not fast enough to hide the pain from her. “I think something is in my back?”

“What?” she squeaks out. She moves to her knees, her hands hovering over Carlos’ shoulders as he sits down on the floor with a heavy sigh. Going around him, she starts to probe him, stopping short when she feels something hard and jagged by the right side of his flank. She swallows a gasp as she realizes what it is.

“How bad?” he questions, his voice tight as the obvious pain starts to set in.

“It’s – it’s glass,” Nancy whispers with dread as she notices the patch of blood on his shirt is growing.

Carlos lets out a weary sigh. “Of course it is,” he mutters dryly. “TK is going to be so pissed.”

Nancy ignores his comment, starting to get up from under the desk counter. “Okay, we need to get you out of here,” she says, just for Carlos to let out a chuckle.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty sure the front of this place collapsed, trapping us back here,” Carlos says far more calmly than she feels the moment merits. “We are lucky the walls dividing the back of the pharmacy and the front held up – protecting us.”

Nancy looks through the counter’s window, where she would usually wait for her prescriptions to be filled, and realizes he’s right. Carlos pushing them behind the counter saved them, but now the whole front is a maze of rubble with no apparent way out.

“Fuck me,” she swears, feeling the frustration and panic build inside her. She lets it for a second before pushing it aside. She’s a trained paramedic, and right now, her main priority is making sure she stops Carlos’ from bleeding out. She looks behind her, letting out a relieved breath to see that the space they are in is relatively sound. If she’s going to be trapped with an injured person needing her care, there are worse places to be than a fully stocked pharmacy.

“Check your phone, Carlos,” she says to him, already on the move. “I’m going to get supplies to care for your injuries.”

She gets a grunt back from Carlos and takes it as an okay as she steps over the mess of pills and supplies on the floor and thanks whatever higher power might be watching over them when she finds bandages, alcohol, and even a pair of scissors in her search. She makes her way back to Carlos to find him hunched over, his expression dazed as he stares at his phone.

“Carlos?” she questions, repeating his name louder when he doesn’t answer right away. He blinks in her direction, and she can see he’s not all there with her. She ignores the trickle of fear that runs up her spine as a result. “Did you get through to anyone?”

Carlos shakes his head slowly. “The lines – they’re not – “

“Okay, that’s okay,” she rushes to reassure him as she comes to sit in front of him. She takes ahold of his face, feeling the tackiness of the drying blood on his head. Two injuries then, she makes a note. “We’ll try again after I bandage you up, okay?”

“I’m tired, Nance,” Carlos answers, his speech becoming slurred, and Nancy adds likely concussion to the list. “My side hurts, and my head.”

“I know, hon,” she answers with what she hopes is a comforting tone. “But I’m going to fix it, okay?”

Carlos blinks at her slowly. “Sleep.”

“No,” Nancy shakes her head quickly, tightening her hold on his face so he can focus on her. “You have to stay awake,” she continues, her voice cracking as fear grips her again. This is her friend, sure they don’t know each other that well, but Carlos is nice and sweet and the love of her partner’s life. He’s her friend, damn it, and she’s not going to lose him, not after losing Tim. “Please, stay awake.”

Carlos looks at her with wide eyes before slowly reaching up to touch her face, startling her as she realizes that it’s wet from tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Don’t cry, Nance.”

“Then stay awake,” she answers back, letting out a shaky smile when he gives her a solemn nod in return with an ‘I promise.’

“Okay,” she says softly, letting go of his face to turn to his back. “I’m going to clean and pack the wound. We can’t take the glass out because you’ll probably bleed more, but we can secure it.”

“Okay,” Carlos answers, giving her permission.

“Sorry about your shirt,” she says quickly as she starts to cut it up the middle.

Carlos lets out a hiss as she pours the rubbing alcohol over the wound. It’s thankfully not as big as she initially thought, but she winces when Carlos lets out a shout as she starts to press the gauzes around it. She tries to think of a way to distract him from the pain, letting out a quick breath when it comes to her. “Talk to me about TK,” she instructs him, hoping it will achieve the goal.

“TK?” Carlos questions sluggishly.

“Yeah, tell me about him, about the two of you,” she says as she rolls out more bandages.

Carlos lets out a sigh. It has the same sappy sound that she hears when TK talks about Carlos or is on the phone with him. “I just love him so much,” he answers, and even though she can’t see his face, she knows he’s smiling through the pain. “He’s beautiful and kind, silly and sweet, and when he looks at me the way he does, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I’m so lucky he loves me back.”

Nancy smiles at the comment; she’s heard TK say the same exact thing. She tells Carlos as she makes a quick finish of securing his wound before moving to face him and deal with his head injury.

“He has?” Carlos questions her with a boyish grin, looking loopier, his eyes heavy. “That’s good. I bought him a ring; now I just have to work up the nerve to ask him to marry me.”

Nancy stares at Carlos for a moment, sure that he wouldn’t have revealed that if he was in all his five senses.

“Are you sure I can’t sleep?” he questions quietly, swaying towards her.

Nancy shakes her head at him, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Not when she can see that his eyes are rolling back, and she has just enough time to keep his face from meeting the floor as he slumps forward.

“Carlos!”

 ֎֎֎

 Nancy has grown to hate the sounds and smells of hospitals. She thinks she’s lucky to not be a doctor or a nurse and not have to be in one every day, but she’s still in them enough because the people she cares about are danger magnets, and she hates it.

They get rescued not long after Carlos has passed out, but it still feels like eons to her. She rides in the ambulance with him, ignoring the paramedics that want to look her over in favor of holding Carlos’ hand. She doesn’t let go until she absolutely has to in order to allow the doctors to work, and she doesn’t break down until she sees TK walk through the hospital doors with a panic-stricken look on his face.

She cries on his shoulder, feeling horrible that he’s comforting her when it’s his boyfriend who is hurt. Fresh tears spring up when he hugs her tight, thanking her for saving the man he loves, and even though he tells her to go home, she waits until Carlos opens his eyes again.

She doesn’t have a home anyway; her neighbor left a message telling her the tornados destroyed her place, luckily he managed to get her cat out, watching over her until she can get back.

She sits in one of the uncomfortable but familiar chairs as the 126 and Carlos’ parents come and go in the later hours, all the while she remains next to TK as they wait for Carlos to wake up. It’s late at night, and TK has fallen asleep next to her when Carlos finally opens his eyes, and Nancy springs forward, rushing to his side, holding her breath as he slowly blinks to consciousness.

“Nancy,” he gets out roughly, and Nancy feels her eyes sting in return. “Are you okay?”

“You said you’d stay awake,” she accuses him as the tears roll down her face. “You promised.”

Carlos looks like he’s in pain, but it doesn’t stop him from giving her a kind look. He reaches out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I did. I’m sorry, Nancy.”

“You can keep calling me Nance,” she whispers, squeezing his hand back. “We’re friends now.”

Carlos smiles at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very cool,” he says softly before looking past her at his sleeping boyfriend. “Is he okay?”

Nancy nods, giving TK a soft look of her own over her shoulder. “He’s strong, and he knew you were going to be just fine,” she says with a smile. “Let me wake him up.”

She starts to turn, only to be stopped when Carlos holds on to her hand. “What I told you – “ he begins, looking at her with those big brown eyes of his that endears him to everyone who meets him, herself included.

“I’m not going to ruin your surprise,” she assures him, chuckling when he lets out a breath.

“Thanks, Nance,” Carlos says, smiling once more.

Nancy returns it kindly. “Hey, what are friends for.”

[coffee-imagines]

First Drop

Pairing: half breed vampire Draco x fem!reader/pureblood!reader

Requested: I’m a big sucker for vampires so can you pretty please do something about Draco being a vampire and he ends up drinking from the reader

Warnings: mentions of small injuries, blood, throwing up, very heated make out

A/N: I couldn’t find exactly what vampires in Harry Potter are like so I’m just winging it with all the vampire shows I’ve seen all mashed into one, and since I’ve gotten a few comments about it I’ll start putting more specific stuff on imagines. If I have time I’ll go back to all the other stuff I wrote and fix them as well. This is a bit long, but I figured it would make up for all the headcanons I’ve done cause of school.

Summary: Draco’s true identity is only known by you

———————————–

Draco had never felt this way before in his entire life. The hunger he felt within him was one that he couldn’t put into words. His entire life he had been able to ignore this side of him. Being told he was a pureblood to then have it ripped from him was rattling. His mother tried keeping the truth from him, surprised to see no signs of his true father coming through. It hadn’t been until you visited during the summer that there was any sign of the dormant side in Draco. 

You’d both been play fighting as usual, rolling around outside on the grass while Narcissa watched over you from the front door. It only took one wrong shove that sent you to the ground scraping your palms that left little droplets of blood catching Draco’s attention. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of your hands, and you hadn’t missed him licking his lips as well as him looking as though he was about to drool. He looked like he was about to attack you, but Narcissa shouting something you couldn’t hear left you shocked when he flew across the other side of the yard. 

Helping you clean up inside before sitting both of you down, Narcissa was muttering nothing but curses to herself. Keeping the long story short she explained how Draco was really a halfbreed vampire. You squeezed Draco’s hand reassuringly when you saw him tense up next to you. Even though they both knew you wouldn’t blab, they swore you to secrecy. You were there with Draco through it all. His cravings were never bad, and he refused to drink human blood, so it made it easier to keep a secret. That had been until today, when it seemed that not even his fake substitute could satiate his cravings. Before he lost it on any of the students he all but forced himself into your room despite others saying he couldn’t be in the girl’s dorm. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked immediately when you saw the almost pained look on his face. You stood up, walking over to him and grabbed his face in your hands making him look at you. “Draco, talk to me.” You whispered, caressing his cheek.

A surprised gasp left you when two fangs made themselves known by pushing their way past Draco’s closed lips. It seemed to shock him too, and he pulled away quickly. Narcissa made it known to only you that this would happen eventually, you just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Both of you knowing that Draco’s distaste of the thought of actually feeding on someone made her only tell you that the substitutes would only last so long before his teeth grew in and he’d want the real thing. You promised you’d be there for him, and you meant it in every way you possibly could, even if you knew it would risk you getting hurt in the process. 

“I’m thirsty. More than normal.” Draco seethed, hugging himself making your eyes soften. 

“It’s okay.” You assured him, pulling him to sit on your bed. “We knew this was going to happen.” You muttered and shook your head.

“You knew?!” Draco exclaimed, making you jump. 

“Draco it was for your own good. You couldn’t even think about feeding on anyone.” You explained and his face showed his disgust at the mere mention. “See?” You pointed making him shoot you a look. 

“Just distract me then. I don’t want to… do that.” He explained, swallowing hard. 

“You’re going to have to eventually.” You explained softly, placing your hand on his thigh to soothe him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed o-” You tried but he shoved your hand away.

“Distract me.” He demanded through gritted teeth making you sigh and shake your head. 

“I always liked reading about vampires when I was younger you know.” You stated, both of you scooting up further on your bed to get more comfortable. 

“You did?” He asked, pulling you closer to him making you nod. 

“I never knew why I was so fascinated by them.” You shook your head with a laugh, sitting next to Draco on his bed. “I mean I found it intriguing but… to the extent I relate…” You rested your head on his arm, smiling when he seemed to pet your head.

“Relate how?” Draco asked, pulling you closer. 

“The feeding part of it…” You trailed, all the times Draco had come to you for the substitutes that you could only give him filling your mind. 

“You couldn’t possibly relate to that.” He scoffed pulling away to look down at you. 

“Draco I understand that it’s hard.” You explained, holding his face and gently caressing his cheek.

“I don’t think you do. Not with this.” He protested making you roll your eyes.

“I understand the hunger, and I definitely understand the feed.” You explained making Draco look at you with confusion written on his face. “Draco it’s not hard to understand the hunger you’re feeling. I’ve seen you drink things that remind you of blood.” You continued making Draco shake his head. 

“That’s not the same as this.” He shook his head making you scoff and sit up so you could face him. 

“So it isn’t the best most comforting feeling you’ve ever felt? It doesn’t make you feel whole? Make you feel like you’re filling the emptiness that you have inside of you?” You asked, making Draco’s shoulders tense up a tad. “How about when we warm it up sometimes? You basically drown yourself in it.” You taunted, and Draco’s mouth was watering at the thought. “You’re going to tell me it doesn’t feel good to have it warm your insides that feel cold? I see it, Draco. You love being greedy with it. Love the warmth coating your mouth and throat while you basically chug it until it’s all gone.” You continued making Draco’s chest rise and fall quicker. 

“I need it.” He croaked out, pushing you a bit further from him. He wouldn’t admit he’d been thinking about feeding even before the hunger came. Wouldn’t admit that the only person he ever wanted to do it with would be you. 

“It’s not going to work anymore.” You shook your head giving him a sad smile. “Not the way you need it to.” You said making his stomach churn. 

“Well you have to let me try.” Draco pleaded, but you shook your head. “Y/N please.” He tried again and you sighed, nodding before you stood up. 

“If it works I’ll keep giving it to you, but if it doesn’t…” You explained handing him the bottle.

Without another word Draco all but ripped it open, almost unhinging his jaw to guzzle down every last drop. You watched with curiosity, hoping that it would work. When Draco finally lowered the bottle you both smiled at each other. Relief was on his face for two seconds before a pained look took over and Draco reached for your trash bin before the entire contents of the bottle had come back up. 

“No.” Draco almost pleaded softly while he hunched over. 

You rubbed his back, not saying anything. You didn’t know what you could say to make him feel better, the only you knew would help he wouldn’t like. Before you could open your mouth to finally say something Draco shrugged you off and grumbled all the way out of your room. Half of the day went by before Draco returned to your room. He’d looked even worse than he had that morning, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Draco you can’t fight it anymore. It’s just going to get worse.” You sighed making him grumble next to you. 

“I don’t want to feed on someone. That’s gross. I don’t even know where they’ve been.” He explained making you scoot closer. 

“You know where I’ve been.” You whispered, putting your hand on his. “Let me help. You can feed on me.” You tried soothing him with your thumb rubbing his knuckles, but it only caused him to stiffen and almost jump to his feet. 

“No! Absolutely not!” Draco yelled, making you flinch in surprise. 

“Why not? I’m offering, you don’t have anyone else who can do it. I promised I’d be here for you and I am not going to break that promise now.” You stated firmly, making Draco’s eyes narrow. 

“You know I don’t want to feed on anyone.” He explained making you roll your eyes. 

“Enough is enough Draco. Please.” You rubbed your temples before looking at him. “Stop being a child who won’t eat their damn vegetables. You need this okay? It’s not something you can avoid anymore. We gave you all the time we could, but you have to accept the truth now.” You explained. 

“You’re comparing yourself to a vegetable?” Draco hissed making you shove him. 

“You know what I meant.” You scolded. 

You watched Draco slowly sit back down next to you. You held your breath, waiting for him to hopefully say he’s and put himself out of his misery. Your hand reached out before you could stop yourself, but you pulled it back last minute so you wouldn’t pressure him. He let out a sigh, wiping his face before looking over to you. 

“It’s supposed to feel good right?” Draco asked nervously. 

“I don’t want to lie to you. It’s in everything I’ve read, but so many people say it’s a myth. I’m not sure.” You explained, becoming nervous when he inched closer. 

“If it hurts I’ll stop.” He explained and you nodded. The closer he got, the faster your heart beat and you held your breath. “I-if it really does feel good.” Draco started with a shaky breath, his hand coming up to hold your face. “I want to make you feel good before it, so maybe you won’t realize…” He explained, his voice wavering while he caressed your cheek. 

“What?” You breathed out, staring into his eyes. You didn’t know if it was from the way he was touching you, but you felt like you couldn’t understand anything that was happening. 

“You’ll see.” He whispered, leaning in before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. 

Draco’s lips moved against yours slowly and your eyes fluttered closed and started moving in sync with his. It wasn’t long after that his tongue was running across your bottom lip making you part your lips slightly. Instead of his tongue exploring your mouth like you expected, he pulled your lip between his teeth and gave it a small suck causing you to moan into the kiss. He pulled away slowly, and you couldn’t help but lean forward to follow him. Your eyes fluttered back open and the look of hunger on Draco’s face had become more evident than before. 

He brushes his lips against yours before placing a small kiss on the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your face when he started kissing down your cheek and to your jaw, nipping gently. Your breathing was coming out in pants, your hands coming up to hold onto Draco’s shoulders. Your nails dug in when he started sucking and you let out a moan when his teeth grazed your sweet spot. 

You’d expected him to go for it right there, but a whimper left you when he only continued to suck harshly on the spot. Draco had completely forgotten about feeding due to all of your noises. He couldn’t help but want to make you feel even better. His tongue flicker over your sensitive skin and you pulled him even closer. 

“Draco.” You whined when he started sucking below your ear. 

He hummed against your skin, kissing his way back down your neck, and that’s when he froze. His nose was brushing right against your pulse and the hunger seemed to hit him full force. His heart started racing, and he almost ran out of the room. He never wanted to feed on anybody, yet here he was about to sink his teeth in your neck. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t get himself to move, instead he held you tighter and pulled you closer. Without another though he let his instincts take over. 

“Oh Merlin.” You cried out when his teeth broke skin and he held you in a death grip. 

Your head lolled back as a moan escaped you, and Draco let out a small possessive growl while he continued to suck greedily. Despite his grip on you, your toes were curling at the feeling that was going through your entire body. Your breathing was coming out irregular, whimpers leaving you when he seemed to bite harder. 

“Draco.” You mumbled when you felt yourself become lightheaded. Your hand limply came up to grab his hair, and you gave it an unsuccessful tug that was merely you running your fingers through his hair before you held on. “Draco.” You whined, trying to move out from under him, only to earn you being pulled closer. “Draco stop.” You pleaded, and he finally seemed to hear you. 

“I’m sorry.” He breathed heavily, pulling away from you, looking down at you with a guilty look on his face. “I got carried away I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“It was your first time, it’s okay.” You explained, letting your hand lazily come up and wipe the blood that was falling down the corner of his mouth. “You’ll just have to practice.” You whispered, your eyes going wide when he pulled your thumb into his mouth and licked the blood clean. 

“Yeah… practice.” Draco nodded and pulled you in for a small kiss before he stood up. “Get your rest. I’ll bring you something to eat and drink.” He kissed your forehead gently before leaving your room without another word. 

———————————–

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[whythinktoomuch]

Something’s wrong. 

Kara can tell the moment she steps into Andrea’s office because Andrea’s avoiding her gaze. And pacing. And fidgeting, meticulously tugging at her own fingers before dropping her hands away altogether with a sharp exhale. 

Andrea was uncertain and nervous, her entire body riddled with unease, and something so clearly had to be wrong. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kara hisses, her shoulders already squaring, ready to be draped by a red cape at a moment’s notice. 

Andrea’s cheeks swiftly lose all color and her heart starts pattering just a tiny bit faster, but her scoff sounds just as natural as ever when she says, “Nothing happened, Kara.” 

“Okay...” Kara crosses her arms, her frown unassuming though unconvinced. “Why did you call me in here then?” 

A darkened scowl tugs at Andrea’s sharp features, her jaw clenching tight and determined. But the moment quickly passes without consequence, and Andrea’s shoulders eventually drop, and she draws back every so slightly. “Just... wanted to make sure you were working.” 

Kara stares, bewildered. “Well, I was.” 

“Good,” Andrea says flatly. “Get back to it then.” 

“All right,” Kara says, her abject curiosity thoroughly unsatisfied. “I’ll go do that.” 

She can feel Andrea’s stare burning a hole into her back as she leaves the office. 

—

Kara notices her right away. It’s impossible not to, even with her senses slightly dulled by the pleasant buzz that could only come from consuming an exorbitant amount of Chinese food in one sitting. 

The sight is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and there’s no point in trying to convince her heart otherwise. So, even though she shouldn’t, Kara can’t help herself as she bursts into Andrea’s office, her heart thundering and stuttering in her ears in equal measure. 

“What are you doing here?” she demands, the question cutting through the air, sharp and splintering.  

Lena barely looks up, hands still carelessly sifting through the various documents spread across Andrea’s desk, her expression somehow bored. As if she had any right to be there. To disrupt Kara’s entire life with a simple look. “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Andrea’s not here,” Kara informs her coldly, and Lena just rolls her eyes so heavily, never pausing in her task. And, well, it’s unfair. “Lena, you can’t just—”

“Really?” Andrea’s clipped tone rings out as she stomps into the room. “You’re just going to show up like you—what—own the place?” 

Lena flashes a smirk, her shrug small yet utterly self-satisfied. “Well, you weren’t exactly answering my calls, babe.” 

Andrea’s scowl deepens considerably. “Get out.” 

“Fine...” Lena sighs, tucking a small flashdrive into her pocket. “Already found what I came for anyway.” 

She saunters out, but not without throwing one last look over her shoulder. A frown, apparently, for Kara’s benefit. Her eyebrow raised in such a pointed fashion that it must mean something. 

It twists at Kara’s stomach, already swirling unhappily in the wake of Lena’s perfume. 

Kara quickly glances back at Andrea, who was now taking her seat at her desk with a weary sigh. “Was that something important? Do you need me to get it back for you?” 

“It’s fine,” Andrea says, waving her hand dismissively. “You can go too.” 

Kara blinks, taken aback. “Andrea, I work for you, so if you need me to—”

“Yes! You do,” Andrea all but snaps, cutting Kara off with an icy glare. “And I’m telling you to get out of my office.” 

After a prolonged, teetering moment of holding her tongue, Kara just shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re the boss,” she mutters, fastidiously reminding herself to not slam the door on her way out. 

//

It’s been a long day of putting out literal fires all over downtown for Supergirl, and Kara’s tired, covered head to toe in soot, and in desperate need of a hot shower and a warm bed. And so, it’s only natural that she hears a bona fide emergency unfolding on her way home. 

The unsavory combination of a distinct click of a hammer being pulled back and a panicked wait! has Kara hurtling straight for L-Corp without a second thought. Within seconds, she has her cape thrown up and over Andrea’s trembling form, bullets ricocheting uselessly off the heavy fabric. 

Tugging Andrea close to her chest, Kara throws her cape aside in a sharp flourish, and blows out a gust of freeze breath that scatters the gunmen like veritable dominoes. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kara can’t help but demand, her tone verging on the more exasperated side of incredulity. “Why are you snooping around Lena’s office?” 

Andrea snorts. “I wasn’t snooping,” she says in a slight sneer, and the wave of whiskey hits Kara as a solid wall of sickly sweet because, oh, Andrea was so very clearly and oh so thoroughly drunk. “I was just... well, it doesn’t matter. Just let go of me.” 

Kara backs off, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lena right now, but whatever it is, you need to fix it. Fast. Because it almost got you killed tonight.” 

“They weren’t after me,” Andrea says, rolling her eyes. “They were after Lena. I just happened to be here, and well, collateral damage, I suppose.” 

“But you would have died just the same. How are you not getting that? You could have died, Andrea, and—” 

“Stop,” Andrea snaps, her eyes wild, yet terribly, terribly focused. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress like your precious little Lena. I don’t need—”

The next thing Kara knew, Andrea’s staring up at her, mouth slightly agape, her delicate wrist somehow encased in Kara’s tight grasp. “Never... talk about Lena like that,” she gets out between painfully gritted teeth, and Andrea’s breath falters in a half-hearted scoff. “She’s a friend. Mine and yours, and she’s the most...” 

A pained whimper tumbles from Andrea’s lips and stops Kara cold, and she promptly snatches her hand back, cheeks burning furiously in realization and shame. 

Andrea rubs at her wrist, where Kara’s grip remains readily apparent, an inexcusable brand of angry pink and slight bruising. “A friend,” she repeats, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right.” 

“I’m sorry...” Kara reaches out instinctively, her heart sinking with heavy regret, but Andrea flinches away from her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...” She sighs and backs off even more with a ducked head. “Listen, just go home, okay? Take care of yourself.” 

With one last apologetic nod, Kara grabs the pair of still unconscious, would-be assassins by their shirt collars and takes off into the air, desperately fighting off the inevitable guilt still hanging over her as she flies over to the nearest police station. 

// 

When she hears the persistent knock at her door, Kara wastes no time super-speeding out of her bed and right to the door in question. Because it’s practically four in the morning, and anyone knocking at her door at four in the morning has to be having an emergency of some sort or another. 

But even so, it comes as a complete shock when Andrea ends up being the person standing on the other side of the door. 

“Andrea?” Kara blinks, the exhaustion slipping off her bones as bewilderment settles in its stead. But Andrea hardly seems to notice, shoving her way into Kara’s apartment like she belongs there. “... How did you know where I live?” 

“What the hell is your deal with Lena?” Andrea says, whirling around in a fury, and it’s immediately evident that she was somehow even drunker now than she had been at L-Corp. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with her anyway?” 

Kara’s jaw drops in outright disbelief. “I—ex-cuse me?” she sputters out. “You show up to my house in the middle of the night to interrogate me about Lena, and I’m the one obsessed with her?” 

“You’re changing the subject,” Andrea says, words sliding out of her mouth careless and slurred. “I’m just asking a simple little question, and all I need is a simple little answer, so if you would just please get—”

“It’s none of your business.” 

Andrea blinks. Then blinks again. Then stares. 

“It’s... none of your business how I feel about Lena,” Kara says with a defiant shrug. “Or anything about us really, okay? Just try to focus on your own issues with her, and stop making everything so messy and complicated.” She then shakes her head, sighing. “This is all highly inappropriate, by the way. You’re my boss, Andrea. You can’t be drunkenly berating me about personal matters like this. Like, at my apartment? This late?” 

“So, you meant it then?” Andrea asks softly. 

“Meant... what?” 

“What were you going to say?” Andrea asks instead, now tugging at her sleeve, rubbing insistently at the imprint that Kara’s hand had left around her wrist. “Before you stopped yourself, what were you going to say about Lena?” 

Kara’s stomach drops, the implications behind Andrea’s simple line of questioning striking her where she stands, where she lives. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She goes to adjust her glasses, but her hand closes around empty air, and Kara’s already made so many mistakes today since getting out of bed this morning, and yet somehow, it seems that she’s made even more just in the last five minutes. 

“Don’t be like that,” Andrea says, pressing closer, looking up at Kara so earnestly that Kara’s ears start to burn, as if in solidarity. “Just tell me.” 

Kara forces a laugh, eyes darting helplessly around her sparse living room. “She’s just... really important to me, okay? Happy now?” 

“Even with everything going on between you two?” 

“Well, yeah. Nothing’s ever going to change how I feel about—”

Kara’s cut off as Andrea’s lips crash against hers. 

All higher brain function snuffs out, and Kara freezes in place. She can barely process the firm press of Andrea’s mouth, soft lips moving against her own slowly yet insistently, the bittersweet taste of whiskey spreading across her tongue... 

Then Kara grabs Andrea’s shoulders, shoving her at arm’s length with a strangled gasp. “What are you doing? You can’t—Andrea, you’re drunk!” 

“I’m... not.” Andrea sighs, almost resigned, and Kara could almost laugh out of sheer incredulity. Or maybe hysteria. Perhaps both. 

“Um, yes, you are. I can literally taste the whiskey off your breath,” Kara says, before abruptly coughing and shaking her head. “I mean, smell. I can smell the... you know, the whiskey...” 

“No,” Andrea growls, her eyes growing sharp, alert. “I’m not... Andrea.” 

Kara takes a step back, her entire face scrunching into a deeply perplexed frown. 

She studies the face staring back at her. The sharp features, the pouting red lips and the jagged scar across the brow, all deeply familiar and completely at odds with the assertion that had just spilled forth from those very same lips. 

But Kara wills herself to look harder, to look past the obvious, and meets the insistent gaze before her head-on. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, somehow recognizing the eyes before her brain can even catch up. 

They’re the wrong color, but it’s the very same softened expression that had accompanied the words that still drift into Kara’s awareness at the most inconvenient moments. 

I know you believe that everything is good...

Kara swallows hard.

And kind...

She blinks and shakes her head, but it clears up absolutely nothing for her. 

And that is one of the things I love about you. 

Kara holds her breath, and dares to venture, to believe, to hope. 

“... Lena?”

[the-bau-quinjet]

Memories, Pt. III

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks, torture

Word Count: 1968

a/n: Part 3!! Honestly, I feel like this series could've been a one shot, but I wasn't feeling inspired to write the whole thing at once and I knew I would finish it if I posted part of it because I would stress about people wanting the next part 🙃

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

3 Years Ago

Bucky could only be described as a ball of nerves when you walked into the room. It felt like his brain shut off.

He had spent the last thirty minutes practicing what he was going to say to you when you arrived for your weekly movie night. Basically, it boiled down to six simple words: I'm falling in love with you.

Despite Steve, and a slightly out of character Sam, ensuring him that you felt the same, he was still skeptical. Why would you choose him when you could get any guy, or girl for that matter?

As he nervously stared at you, he could see your lips moving, but no sound could be registered above his own internal panic.

He didn't fully comprehend you had even said anything until he registered the panic on your face. Suddenly, his own thoughts disappeared.

"Oh no. No, no, no. I'm so sorry. You obviously don't feel the same. I'm just gonna go! I'll, uh, I'll see you later." You tried running out of the room, but Bucky was too quick.

"Huh? I don't feel what?" He was completely stunned that he had gotten so worked up in his own nerves that he missed what you said. He was supposed to be trained in observing people. He should be able to multitask, especially when one task is completely within his own mind.

"Bucky, really it's okay. I'll be fine. We'll be fine! I just, I need a minute... or a few to-"

"Y/N, doll, I'm so sorry." He sputtered as tears pooled in your eyes. What the hell did he miss? "I didn't hear a word you said."

"You... what? Why not?" The tears continued to pool as you did your best to hold them back for when you were alone in your room.

Bucky took a deep breath before he began talking faster than you'd ever heard him speak before.

"I'm falling in love with you." You honestly stopped breathing for a minute. "I was trying to think of how to tell you. That's why I didn't hear you. Steve convinced me that I should tell you. Sam a little bit too honestly. They kept saying it wasn't healthy to keep it all bottled up. And, I mean, I just-"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his eagerly. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, soft smiles growing into wholeheartedly happy grins.

"You're an idiot." You chuckled, pressing your forehead to his. "That's what I said when you so graciously ignored me."

"I- You what?" Bucky's jaw dropped.

"I'm falling in love with you too."

-

Present

Waking up in Bucky's arms felt right. There was no other way to put it. His presence had a soothing effect unparalleled by anything you had ever felt before.

His face was relaxed, a slight smile pulling on his lips. You brushed his hair out of his face, slowly rubbing your thumb along his cheek and down his jaw.

A familiar ball of guilt grew in your stomach as you cuddled closer to his body. It may have only been two days since you woke up, but this group of heroes quickly found a place in your heart, almost like they'd been there all along. Lying to them about your past was gnawing on your heart, slowly breaking down your resolve.

You carefully removed yourself from his embrace, softly closing the door to your bedroom as you left. You knew he would want to talk about last night, and you just weren't ready for that. Not yet.

You wandered the halls until, three dead ends later, you eventually made it to the kitchen. Much to your relief, the common area was empty. You had just enough time to calm your internal panic about what food you could eat when Natasha walked in.

"I'm about to make a smoothie, want one?" She offered, much to your delight.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." The level of sincerity of your words caught her mildly off guard, not that you or anyone would have been able to tell.

"So, how are you feeling?" She questioned lightly, hiding her skepticism at your odd behavior. Call her a pessimist, but 3 months with Hydra and you're relatively fine? It doesn't quite add up.

"Oh, um, okay I guess. I feel like my brain is all jumbled." You settled for half truths again, knowing she would easily spot a total lie.

"Right, well that's to be expected after a few months with Hydra. You said they kept you in that room the whole time?" She kept her tone light, trying to empathize with everything you went through.

"Um, yeah... I-" You grabbed your head as memories flashed through your mind. You were in a room, it looked like a lab but it was dark and grimy. People surrounded you, but you couldn't understand what they were saying.

They poked and prodded at you, forcing you to lay down as they strapped you into a metal chair.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" She rushed to you, smoothie forgotten in the blender as you screamed, remembering the pain you felt in that chair. You didn't even realize you were muttering under your breath.

Her voice drew you back to the present. You abruptly stood up, backing into a corner as you glanced around the room.

Slowly, the past two days came back to you. Flashes of memories, old and new mixed together in your head, all out of order.

You were in the Avengers compound.

Your were buried in rubble, people screaming and crying surrounded you.

They thought you were one of them.

You were being arrested, locked in the room where Bucky found you.

They didn't know the truth.

"Y/N?" Nat questioned again, slowly moving toward you.

"I'm fine. I, uh, I'm okay." You took deep breaths, slowly calming all your nerves.

"What happened?" She pulled you out of the corner, leading you back to the island for your smoothie.

"I, um, I was back there." You stuttered, trying to make sense of the image. "But, it was different. A different room." You were too shaken to think about what could happen from sharing this new development.

"A different room? What did it look like?" Nat was eager to hear more. If you didn't remember everything from your three months there, maybe they did something to you, and that's why you've been acting weird.

"It looked, it looked like a basement. It was dark and grimy." You left out the part about the lab equipment. "I, um, I think I'm gonna go on a walk. Just to clear my head a little bit."

You left before she could respond, smoothie untouched on the counter.

-

When you returned from the walk, you could hear Nat talking to Steve and Wanda in the kitchen.

"I'm telling you, they must have done something to her. She's not acting right." Nat was firm, steadfast in her belief that Hydra wouldn't have kept you there without trying something.

You're heart rate spiked at her words, nervousness overcoming your body. They were going to figure it out.

"Nat, she just came back from three months of torture. Of course she's gonna act a bit different. She needs time to adjust back to her regular life." Wanda replied, figuring Nat was just a little too paranoid.

"You didn't see her in the kitchen! Wan, she freaked out. She looked terrified. She was muttering something about experiments. What if they messed with her head?" Nat rebuked, still trying to convince them.

"I mean, I guess it's possible?" Steve stated, clearly unconvinced but open to the idea. "She hasn't been acting that off though, not when you take into account what Wanda said."

"Steve, she hasn't told Bucky she loves him. That would've been the first thing out of her mouth if she was herself." Nat settled him with a glare, knowing her point was made.

You panicked. If they figured out you weren't who they thought you were, what would they do to you? Before you registered your own movements, you were running.

You made a break for the elevator, twisting and turning through the halls in what you hoped was the right direction.

Just as you turned the last corner, you ran right into something- no someone.

"Where's the fi-" Tony started to joke, but after taking in your expression stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You replied far too quickly, trying to squeeze past him.

"Y/N, wait." He grabbed your arm, preventing you from getting away. "Talk to me, kid. What's going on up there?" He gestured to your head.

"Really, it's nothing." You wiped a tear from your face, knowing it wasn't helping your case. "I have to go."

"Nope. I'm not gonna let you bottle this all up. You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. Come on." He pulled you into the elevator, leading you to the lab.

Once he had you sat on the window seat in the back, he asked again. "Tell me what's got you this upset. You know we're all here for you, right?"

You couldn't take it anymore. They were all being so nice, and you were lying right to their faces.

"I'm not who you think I am." You barely whispered the words, overcome with a mixture of guilt and self pity. "I don't belong here." You refused to make eye contact until Tony lifted your head to meet his eye.

"Y/N, you probably belong here more than anyone else, except maybe Steve, but he doesn't count." He tried to lighten the mood, earning an attempt at a small smile from you.

"I really don't. I'm not a hero. I'm a murderer." You cried as you finally admitted the truth. The relief you felt was instantly weighed down by fear at what would happen next.

"What are you talking about?" Tony was clearly confused by your admission. "Y/N, your not a murderer."

"I'm not an Avenger." You moved your hands to cover your face, knowing you weren't strong enough to admit this to his face. "I wasn't in that room for three months, it was three years!" You missed the way his brow furrowed deeper in confusion as you continued to rant. "i don't know why you all think I'm some hero. Nobody was supposed to rescue me. I was in prison. I'm a killer."

You took a shaky breath, as you kept going. "I was in that room because I made a bomb that killed 38 people. I- It was accident, I swear! I didn't mean to hurt anyone... I- I think?" You started questioning yourself as memories flickered through your head.

"It's all fuzzy." You desperately shook your head, trying to make everything clear.

"It wasn't supposed to blow up! It was supposed to absorb energy and convert it into power, but it didn't work." You were nearly sobbing, picturing the people you injured and killed. "It exploded and people died! It was all my fault."

Your breathing quickened again, anxiety at admitting what you had done mixed with the guilt of lying to the only people who have ever shown you kindness causing the panic to set in again.

"Hey, hey! Look at me. You're okay. We're gonna fix this. You're not a killer, Y/N." Tony held your face in his hands, speaking firmly but not without compassion.

"Yes, I am!" You shouted at him, causing him to stumble backwards. "I don't know why you all think I'm someone I'm not, but it's true. I don't-" Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to get the words out.

You managed a mumbled, "I don't belong here." Before you passed out.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

Memories tagist:

@otherglowcloud @dontxfearxthereaper

[toh-writings]

Fortunes of Love Pt 2 (Eda x OC)

Summary:

Eda and Niliana strike up a business deal. In the meantime, Luz tries to figure out what she's going to do about this love of hers.

Warnings: None

Pt 1  Pt2

-

“And then she said that I’d fall in love with someone close to me!” Luz said, eyes shining. Willow and Gus were listening intently, looking just as amazed.

“Whoa…” Gus said, voice quiet. “Amazing.”

“That’s great, Luz!” Willow said. “Do you know who it is?”

Luz thought for a moment, eyes squinting as she debated with herself. She shook her head.

“Not really. She said it might be one of my friends.” Luz narrowed her eyes at her two friends. “Do either of you like me?” She asked suspiciously. Her two friends looked at each other and shrugged.

“No, not really.”

“Not in that way.”

“Then who is it?”

The group went silent as they all thought it over. Suddenly, Gus began to giggle.

“Hey guys, what if-if it was Amity?”

Willow giggled a little at the suggestion, but Luz could only think about it. She thought about Amity, about how she read books to kids, how smart she was, the fun they had dancing together at grom, the grudgby match, her smile, that cute little giggle she had. The more she thought about it the redder her face got and the more the other two giggled.

“Ooooh, Luz has a cruuuush.” Gus said. Luz blushed harder, shoving his shoulder but all that accomplished was making them laugh harder. Luz laughed with them. She couldn’t help it, just was just a giggly person.

“Luz, you have to tell Amity!” Willow said. Gus nodded in agreement.

“I know, I know, but what do I even say?!”

Gus shrugged.

“Tell her about the fortune teller or something?”

Willow and Luz shook their heads.

“Whatever you do, can ya do it somewhere else? Your teenage gossip is scaring off the customers.” Eda gave them a hard look from her spot behind the stand’s counter.

The teen’s gave an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Eda! We’ll head off!” Luz said, ushering her friends away. “We can walk and talk, right guys?”

They, of course, agreed, but before they got too far Eda stopped them with a hand on Luz’s shoulder.

“You got this, kiddo.” She gave the girl a wink, earning her a smile.

“Thanks, Eda.”

Eda nodded, letting her go. She waved to them as they left, Luz waving back before continuing her talk with her friends. Eda shook her head and muttered “teenagers” under her breath. They’d figure it out eventually. She turned back to her shelves of human junk with a sigh.

“Alright, back to work.”

She decided it would help to rearrange the items a bit, put something different out front to catch the costumer's attention. It helped a little but overall it remained a slow day. Sure, it happened, but it was still aggravating. She was debating sending Owlbert out for more when she saw someone approaching from the corner of her eye. She instinctually put on her customer service face before dropping it for a smirk when she saw who it was.

“Nily! What a pleasant surprise.”

The other woman gave a little wave as she approached. She was wearing her hair down today, the dark curls reaching just below her shoulders. She wore casual clothes, probably off of work for the day or something of the sort, her staff in hand.

“What brings you out of the gloom and all the way to my stand?”

Niliana didn’t answer at first, her eyes gazing at the assorted human items. To anyone else, it would have just looked like she was perusing the available wears, but Eda liked to think she was better at reading people than most others. To her, she looked uncertain, like she was thinking something over that she probably should have figured out before coming over.

“I had a proposition for you.”

Eda raised an eyebrow at that.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I had the idea that we could possibly work together. You know about my hobby making and fixing stuffed animals. What if I gave you some of them to sell at your stand?”

Eda laughed, shaking her head. Niliana crossed her arms, just waiting for her to stop, an irritated frown on her face.

“Oh, Nily, I sell human stuff at my stand! Your stuffed animals wouldn’t fit here.”’

“Which is why I would make them out of supplies from the human realm,” Niliana said, not missing a beat. Perhaps she thought this out more than Eda initially thought. “Just grab some discarded clothes or blankets, I make them into my animals, and you can market them as a piece of the human realm for children. You’ll be widening your market. If you want, I can buy the fabrics off of you so if they don’t sell you don’t lose anything.”

Yeah, she really did think through this.

“And what would you get out of it?” Eda asked.

Niliana didn’t have an immediate answer. She thought for a moment before responding.

“Other than a small portion of prophets,” Eda nodded. She expected as much. “I really don’t want anything.”

Eda looked doubtful. The other witch sighed.

“Honestly, Eda? I’m bored.” Niliana admitted, surprising Eda a bit. “I do the same thing day in and day out. I live in my tent, go to work, maybe work on a toy and that’s it. I just want something more. I want some excitement!” And for a moment, she brightened. Eda hadn’t even noticed how down she looked before, but now her eyes were alight with emotion, she stood up a little straighter and even her voice was a little louder. “What better way to step up things then working with Eda the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Eda didn’t even need to think it over.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal!” She declared, and they shook hands. Niliana had the biggest smile on her face. Eda had to admit, that sort of guine smile suited her. “I was gonna send Olwbert anyways, I can get him to pick up some things for you to get started.”

At her words the wooden owl sprang to life with a little hoot, flying over to Eda’s outstretched hand. She smiled at him softly, giving him scritches and petting his adorable little cheek.

“Thanks, Eda.”

She looked back to Niliana, that soft smile never really leaving her face.

“Of course. I mean, who am I to deny someone a little excitement. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna lose anything out of this. Worst comes to worst, I still manage to sell some of my wares. It’s a win-win!”

She turned away, entering her tent with a “Just one minute!” shouted over her shoulder. Now hidden away, she took the key out from its hiding place, pressing the eyes to open the door. With a few hushed words, she sent Owlbert away, ready to collect all sorts of new human memorabilia.

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

It didn’t take much for Luz to realize that yeah, she really did like Amity. She had wanted to be friends for so long she hadn’t even realized those feelings had changed. Of course, then there was the issue of whether or not Amity would like her back.

“She does,” Willow said, not a hint of doubt in her voice. They were walking through the market, cones of ice cream in their hands.

“How do you know?” Luz sounded uncertain and Gus gave a doubtful look, but Willow wasn’t deterred.

“Trust me, I can tell. Didn’t you see how red her face got when you picked her up after the game?”

“I didn’t notice…”

“You’re right!” Gus agreed, face brightening and a hand landing on his cheek. “Her face got so red!”

“Plus she said she loved how stupid you were sometimes right before.”

“And she called you sweet!”

“Honestly, I can’t believe we didn’t see it before.”

Luz could feel the heat in her cheeks, a smile on her face. This was perfect! But then her smile fell.

“That’s all good, but… how am I supposed to ask her out? I’ve never even dated before…”

“Can’t you just ask her? You like her, she clearly likes you, what more do you need?” Gus asked, head tilted to the side in confusion. Willow just shook her head.

“I’m sure that works for some people, but you can also make it this big thing! Maybe with flowers... “ Willow trailed off, already contemplating what arrangement would be best.

The three of them devolved into a fit of giggles. Luz felt lightheaded at the very thought of asking Amity out.

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

She didn’t really know how long it had been before they were headed back to Eda’s stand. An hour? Maybe two? Whatever the case, when the three teens returned Luz was surprised to find a familiar face at the stand, talking happily with Eda.

“Nily!” She cheered happily, running over to the witch.

“Oh, hello. Luz, right?”

She nodded.

“Yep! And these are my friends, Willow and Gus.” She waved to them as they caught up, giving their own shy little waves. She smiled at them, one of those warm parental smiles that some people had, the one that made you know they were a good person. They smiled back, not nearly as shy anymore.

“It’s nice to meet you two.”

“It’s nice to meet you two, Miss Niliana,” Gus said, stepping forward and offering his hand for a handshake. She took it and gave it a little shake. “Luz told us about you!”

“Did she? Well, I hope she said good things.”

“Yeah! She said you told her the future!” Willow said, beaming.

“And it’s been so helpful!” Luz pushed her way through the two to stand in front again. “You said I would fall in love with someone close to me! And I … think I figured out who.” Luz tried to turn her face away to hide the blush creeping onto her face. Niliana chuckled.

“You work fast don’t you?”

“But now I don’t know how to ask her out.” Luz sighed, looking a bit crestfallen. She looked back up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, the woman smiling down at her.

“Don’t worry too much.” Niliana said. “Love can be complicated, especially when you're young. Just don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.”

Luz smiled at her, a hopeful smile. Maybe things would work out, she thought. She just needed to keep it simple!

Eda watched the interaction from her spot behind the counter, a soft smile on her face. She felt an odd sensation in her chest, one she was not entirely familiar with. It was all warm and fuzzy and other cheesy stuff like that. She didn’t like it, not one bit. The last time she felt anything even remotely similar to this it was with an old boyfriend of hers, one that ended up cheating on her for some cyclops floozy. It was not a pleasant memory.

“Anyways, you can pick up the supplies tomorrow.” Eda spoke up, interrupting their moment. Niliana turned her eyes to her, a little smile still on her face.

“Thanks, Eda! I’ll be sure to stop by to pick them up. I should have a few done in a week.”

“Sounds promising!”

The two shook hands and Niliana gave her goodbyes. The three teens shouted their own goodbyes back, waving madly. Eda waved too, albeit not with nearly as much energy. Her mind was far too occupied.

[thenovelartist]

A Blanc Slate, Chapter 2

<Previous Next >

4. Cafe

By the time Chat had finished his bath, Marinette had finished warming up a bowl of soup for him.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to her chaise lounge.

He did as asked, less taking a seat and more collapsing onto the chaise. He’d given up on fighting her, but she couldn’t tell if he was sick or just tired of fighting. Maybe both.

She handed him the soup bowl, and he took it with a quiet thank you. But before he took a bite, she placed her hands on his forehead and cheeks, trying to gage his temperature compared to hers.

He did pull away at first, hurting her heart once again, but this time, he eventually relented to her touch.

“You feel too warm,” she muttered. “Stay right there; let me go see if I have anything for that.”

When she returned with water and some medicine, he was staring at his bowl of soup that still looked quite full.

She frowned as she set the glass and pill on her desk. “Something wrong? Does it not taste good?”

“No, it tastes like the soup from one of my favorite cafes. I’m just…”

“Can’t stomach it?”

His eyes closed, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

Frowning, she sat herself down next to him on the edge of the chaise. “Is it because you’re sick? Or stressed?”

He tapped the side of the bowl with his fingers. “More stressed.”

She nodded. “I could have guessed that.”

He quirked a brow at her.

She tapped his arm. “You’re white. Something must have happened.”

His eyes hardened, and Marinette instantly worried she shouldn’t have said anything. “How do you know I’m not an akuma?”

“You’re too lucid for that,” she easily dismissed. “You let me drag you up here, and you’ve said nothing about Ladybug’s miraculous.”

He sneered, looking almost disappointed by that fact. “How do you know I’m not dangerous, though?”

She scoffed. “Are you?” she sarcastically challenged, already feeling confident in her answer.

“What if I am?”

“Then what are you planning to do?”

He forced a rougish grin, but it looked tired and it didn’t reach his empty eyes. “Why would I tell you?”

“Then do it.”

His eyes blew wide. “What?”

“Do it,” she challenged, leaning closer while a challenging grin grew on her face. “What is a dangerous kitty like you planning to do to little old me?”

She watched a pink creep out from under his mask, his eyes panicked as he leaned away from her.

See, white or black, you’re still my good kitty. With a chuckle, she pulled back to give him space again. “You’re not dangerous,” she said, her smile small but genuine. “So don’t even try to pretend you are. You’re just trying to push me away, and that won’t work on me.”

Though caught off-guard for a moment, he soon relaxed with a tired sigh. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good, princess?”

She shrugged. “No, but thanks for the compliment.”

5. Nightmares

“You’re not really leaving, are you?” Despite having rested and eaten a few bites of food, Marinette could tell he was tired. She knew what an adrenaline crash felt like, and Chat was probably in the middle of one. The last thing she wanted was for him to hurt himself while trying to make his way home while under the heavy weight of exhaustion.

But Chat seemed determined to leave as he made his way to her balcony hatch. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You can stay here tonight—”

“Marinette,” he interrupted, cutting her off with a firm look. “I can’t. I have things to do.”

“But you have a fever.”

“Even if I didn’t!” he firmly cut in. “I can’t stay.”

A shocking intensity shone in his green eyes that silenced her completely.

He sighed, his angry front fading just a little. “I get nightmares,” he admitted. “Bad ones. And unless you want me to wake your parents when I wake up screaming, you’ll let me go.”

Before she even had the thought to stop him, he’d disappeared. And Marinette was left sitting on her bed in shock.

Her kitty had nightmares? And they were that bad.

“Chat Noir,” she muttered under her breath to no one. “What happened to you?”

6. Midnight

When the clock struck midnight, Marinette still could not fall asleep. She partly wondered if Chat had turned back into a pumpkin by now. Hopefully, he had and was at home sleeping after such a rough day.

Too bad she couldn’t sleep.

Frustrated by her inability to drift off into dreamland, she decided to stand out on her balcony for a bit. The rain had almost stopped by now, only a drizzle remaining. She really should go grab a coat or just go inside, but the cool, damp air was just what she needed to clear her head.

Chat Noir. Chat Blanc. What had happened to him? And why wouldn’t he let her help him? And she meant both Ladybug her and Marinette her. He was hurting badly, yet refusing to lean on anyone. Most he did was allow Marinette to care for him a bit, and she supposed it was better than nothing, but she also could guess that she wouldn’t see him again beyond when he returned the clothes to her.

And even then, he might just knock and leave the clothes there without her ever seeing him.

Lastly, there was the issue that her once cuddly kitty now flinched at her touch. Had he taken a beating? Was he hurt? Was he scared? What had happened that made him change so drastically in the course of a day?

It wasn’t long before a set of sirens broke her out of her reverie. First it was one fire truck, then two, then an ambulance followed by a couple police.

And curiosity got the better of Marinette.

She called for her transformation before following the vehicles. She normally didn’t participate in such endeavors, leaving it to the emergency responders to do their normal job, but occasionally, she would help comfort victims or secure a larger scene. At the moment, she just wanted something to take her mind off the raging questions without answers surrounding her cat.

However, as their destination came into view, her gut twisted into countless knots.

The Agreste mansion was on fire. And it wasn’t just a little one.

Adrien.

She remembered him talking about how he was moving out soon, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember if he ever told her the date he was moving. And even if he had, she doubted she could recall today’s date, anyway.

Frantic, she swung close to the building, landing on the fiery window sill of his bedroom before breaking the window in. Smoke billowed out into the night, causing her to choke and sputter. Still, she forced past the pain, blinked away the tears trying to flush the smoke from her eyes, and pushed her way into the building.

“Adrien!” she called out, trying to keep low to the floor. The flames roared up the walls, burning everything in sight and covering everything in a thick, black fog that made it almost impossible to see. “Adrien!” she called out again before pulling out her yo-yo to breathe through, just as she would underwater. She scrambled about the room, smoke burning her eyes and the heat overwhelming her as she checked his couch, his bed, the bathroom, but she couldn’t find him.

Unable to stay in the building any longer, she made her escape, swinging up to a nearby building’s rooftop for a place to land and catch her breath. Her eyes were burning, and even despite her yo-yo, she could still feel the sting in her lungs.

Oh, Tikki was going to give her an earful later.

From where she was kneeling on the nearby rooftop, Ladybug watched the increasing number of emergency responders desperately trying to put out the blazing fire. She watched as firefighters, all suited up and masked, took the brave plunge into the building, but after many excruciatingly long minutes, they emerged with only one body. One that just looked black in the man’s arms.

Please don’t let that be Adrien. Please don’t let that be Adrien. Please don’t let that be him!

She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to har Adrien’s voice. She had to know he was okay. It was well past midnight by this point, but she was too desperate to care. As fast as she could, she rushed home.

The moment she detransformed, Tikki started her lecture.

“That was wildly dangerous, Marinette,” she warned.

“I know, I know,” Marinette assured, tearing her room apart as she searched for her phone. “But I just had to know.”

Tikki sighed. “I know you know,” she relented. “And I know you would have done that for any of your friends. I only say that because I worry for you.”

Her phone now in hand, she turned back to Tikki with a somewhat relieved smile. “I know you do. Thanks.”

“But please, don’t do that again.”

“Understood.” With that said, Marinette hit the call button next to Adrien’s name. Please pick up. Please pick up!

It went to voicemail. Which caused Marinette’s stomach to tighten so much she could barely get out a voice message.

She tried again, but to no avail. Ice seemed to creep through her veins, causing her to shake so badly she could barely hit the redial button, desperate to try one last time.

And got an answer.

“Adrien!” she cried, already feeling the tears of relief bubbling up. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

“Sorry for scaring you,” he said. “I saw your messages.”

She felt like she could breathe again as the weight of worry, a weight heavier than she expected, dropped from her shoulders at the sound of his voice. “Yeah. Sorry for calling so late, but I had to know you were okay.”

“You don’t live that close to me, though. Were you close by? If you were, what were you doing out so late?”

“Um…” Marinette minorly panicked when she realized that technically, she should not know at all. The Agreste mansion was close, but not that close. She should be in bed, or maybe she would have been working on a project this late. Instead, she desperately scrambled for a lie. “I… I was up on my balcony getting some fresh air when I saw several emergency vehicles go by, and then went online to see if I could find anything out. And when I learned it was the mansion, I tried to let it go, but I couldn’t and… well… yeah.”

“Oh,” he said, voice taking on a tired edge again. “No, I’m out of the mansion. So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” she said, sighing with relief and feeling a wave of exhaustion slam into her. “Sorry for calling so late. I should have just let it go.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “It just meant you cared.”

“Of course, I do. You’re one of my closest friends, Adrien.”

He hummed. “Thank you, Marinette.” His voice was warm, now. Enough to make Marinette’s heart melt and remind her once again just why she fell for him all those years ago. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I think I get the idea,” she said. “If the last…what, six years now? are any indication.”

He chuckled. “I guess so.”

As much as she would have loved to keep talking, she knew it was late and she could feel her body aching. “Hey, sorry if I woke you up. I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”

“Well, this time, you didn’t,” he dismissed. “But even if you did, I wouldn’t have minded at all.”

“Good to know,” she hummed, laying down on her bed, smile on her face. “Good night, Adrien.”

“Good night, Marinette. And thanks again, for everything.”

[rejectofsociety]

We’ll Get Old If We’re Lucky

Summary:

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

•••

After Peter comes home with a bullet in his side, he and Michelle discuss growing old, and if they’ll be lucky enough to get there.

Word Count: 2.2k  

Warnings: Cursing, Discussions of Death, a rant disguised as a fic

Read here on Ao3

༺✦✮✦༻

Peter stumbles home at around midnight, quickly being greet by his wife, then scolded by her for bleeding out on her carpet. Michelle then leads him to the bathroom were he collapses onto the tile, rips off his mask, and vomits all over the floor. With a sigh, she cleans him up, cleans up the vomit, kisses the side of his neck, then leans him against the bathtub. He apologizes a few times and she waves him off, then grabs the first aid kit and asks:

“Where should I start?”

“Ummm…” Peter hesitates, “probably here—“ he points to his side which is steadily oozing blood “—I uh… mighta got shot.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and grabs a rag, “I should really just take you to the hospital.”

“No, no, no, no,” Peter says quickly, then winces as a pain shoots up his side, “no, Em. Just… just pull the bullet out, stitch it up— my self-healing factor can do the rest.”

She chews her lip for a moment then nods, “okay, fine. Lay down.”

“Thank you,” Peter replies gratefully then plants a light kiss on her cheek.

She presses the spider symbol on his suit and delicately helps him slide his arms out of the sleeves, then lets the suit fall to his waist. Then, Peter gingerly lays on his back with some assistance from Michelle. She presses a rag to the wound and leans her weight on it, quickly feeling his warm and sticky blood seeping through. Peter props himself up with an elbow to watch her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Peter guiltily mumbles, seeing her grimace.

“It’s fine,” she grunts.

He shifts his weight, frowning slightly at her stiff reply. She doesn’t notice.

After a few minutes of silence, with the only sound being Peter’s occasional grunt or whimper of pain, the bleeding finally slows to a stop. Michelle stands up and washes her hands thoroughly, her sleeves now rolled up past her elbows. Then, she cleans Peter’s wound with hot water and a bit of soap and places a pair of tweezers in boiling water. The entire time her breathing is shuddering and uneven, and her hands shake anxiously.

Of course Peter notices, and while they wait for the tweezers to cool off, he wraps one arm around her and holds her close. She lays her head on his chest and mutters to him:

“I just want you to be okay. I don’t want you to hurt.”

To which he whispers back: “it’s okay, Em. I’m okay.”

Even with the tweezers ready, he holds her a while longer to ease her nerves. She calms slowly, eventually pulling herself together for Peter’s sake. Michelle ties back her hair into a sloppy ponytail to keep it out of her face then grabs the tweezers and sits on her knees at Peter’s side, hunched over the gunshot wound.

“MJ, I just realized something,” he says, before Michelle can even locate the bullet.

“Let me pull this thing out of you, then you can tell me,” she suggests, “I need to focus.”

“That’s fair,” he hums, “don’t mess up.”

“Babe, please.”

“Sorry.”

She smiles lopsidedly, still not taking her eyes off the wound. Peter let out a small sigh, admiring her sharp focus and attentive expression.

“I can see the bullet, it’s not deep,” Michelle observes after a minute.

“Okay,” he speaks calmly, “then you’re going to-“

He cuts himself off as she visibly shudders. Peter frowns then realizes that the reality of pulling a bloody bullet out of her husband has just sunk in.

“It’s okay,” he assures, “you’ll be alright.”

“How do you know that?” She hisses disbelievingly.

“I’ve done it two or three times,” he shrugs, “and if I can do it-“

“Who’ve you pulled a bullet out of?”

“Cindy once and myself two times— yeah, so three times.”

Michelle sits back on her heels and rubs her face with a heavy sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Are you about to sneeze?” Peter asks.

“No, dumbass,” she snaps, “I’m stressed out and trying to stop my brain from falling out of my face.”

“Oh,” he swallows thickly, tasting blood and vomit, “I’m sorry, the blood loss is getting to me.”

Michelle brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face and huffs, “alright, we’re going to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter cries frantically as he lunges forward and grabs her hand.

Pain ignites his entire body and he freezes, eyes squeezed shut and expression twisted in agony. He squeezes her hand tightly and it’s almost painful, but she doesn’t pull away. She watches him with wide, worried eyes as she gently strokes the back of his hand, as if she can single-handedly ease away the pain.

“No hospitals,” Peter finally croaks out, his voice weak, “please.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and hesitantly nods, “okay… fine. No hospitals.”

He suspires in relief and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, “thank you, baby.”

She pauses, looking down at the bullet wound then asks: “now, tell me what to do.”

He smiles at her then begins relaying one step after another to her, being as detailed as he can and answering the few questions that she has. She works cautiously and gingerly, pausing when he hisses in pain and waiting for his permission to continue.

When Michelle finally does extract the bullet, coated in crimson and glimmering in the bright bathroom lights, she forces herself not to gag and drops it onto the bloody rag she used to clean Peter’s wound.

“Great job, baby,” Peter praises with a wobbly smile, “told you you’d be alright.”

“I’m never doing that again,” Michelle shudders, “next time we call Cindy or Gwen or anyone.”

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

Michelle briefly glances up at him, “yeah, you’re absolutely right.”

“Like, if you die young it’s like… ‘oh they had so much life left in them’ and when you’re old, now you’re— not my words— ugly and helplessly whatever. And no one wants to be that, y’know?” He rambled, “and then there’s the other stuff that comes with being old, like potential illness, aches and pains— all that. But then if you die young, it’s- like- extra devastating or something because it’s normally really unexpected and sometimes— not always, but sometimes— you’re still in really good health and… and I don’t know.”

“There’s no balance,” Michelle finishes for him, “it’s never a good time to die. But if you live quote unquote ‘too long,’ then it’s not a good time to be alive.”

“Exactly. Or at least, that’s how it’s portrayed,” he flinches as the needle jabs him a little too harshly.

“Sorry,” Michelle mumbles.

���It’s okay,” he sighs. Then he goes quiet for a few moments, and when he does talk again, his voice is soft: “I… MJ, I don’t expect myself to live very long.”

He doesn’t say it sadly. It’s matter-of-fact, like a statement that he’s all too sure of. But even if his tone is calm, his words hit Michelle in the chest like a knife and she instantly finds herself swallowing back tears.

“Peter, don’t say that,” she urges.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” he says unapologetically, “I mean… it’s not like I want to die young I just feel like I will. And maybe that’s part of the reason why I don’t understand this- this stigma around getting really fucking old. Like, I hope I get so old I can barely walk.”

Michelle hesitates, “… I hope you do too. I just… I really wanna get old with you.”

He nods, “I do, too.”

“Also, I feel like when you get old, there’s less pressure to look good, y’know?” Michelle begins to think, “like, once you reach a certain point, people kinda except that you’re never gonna look as good as you did when you were twenty or whatever. No one really cares to— or wants to— try getting you to dress in something super flattering or skimpy or pressure you into wearing a lot of make up. You can just wear weird grandma clothes and never touch mascara again if you don’t want to. Y’know?”

“To an extent,” Peter replies, “but I am— obviously— male, and the same standards don’t apply to me.”

She chuckles, “that’s my husband.”

“Yes I am,” he grins, “but I kinda get what you’re saying. I mean, the more physically fit a man is, the more and ‘masculine’ they are, the more acceptable they are by society’s standards. Being old, no one cares and you can just be all shriveled up and… floppy.”

Michelle stops what she’s doing to laugh and Peter lets out a short laugh, before gasping at the pain. Michelle pauses and looks at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

He chews on his cheek and nods slightly, “yep. I’m great.”

She sighs and continues, “similar thing goes for women. When you’re really old it doesn’t matter if you have a nice ass or boobs or whatever. Everything can just sag.”

He smiles, “being old sounds fucking awesome. Fuck society, honest. We’ll be lucky to get gross and old.”

She beams at him then leans forward and kisses his forehead, “yes, we will.”

Then, she ties off the stitches and cuts the thread and wraps a bandage around his torso. He thanks her then kisses her sweetly and thanks her again. She helps him stand up and lets his spider suit fall to the ground, then she tosses it in the bathtub— she’ll clean it later. Then she helps him limp to bed where he gingerly dresses himself in a pair of sweatpants with his wife’s assistance then finds himself in too much pain to try putting a shirt on.

They lay together that night, Michelle reading a book— Chaos Walking Book Three: Monsters of Men— trying to keep her mind away from the place it’s tempted to travel: Peter’s inevitable death. Although, a book about war and death isn’t exactly helpful. Especially not as she reads the sorrows of a “Spackle.”

“I should not be alone…. My one in particular should be here with me…. But my one in particular is not here. Because my one in particular was killed…. brought down by a heavy blade. I way dragged away…. Hated them for not letting me die there and then, when my grief was not quite enough to kill me on its own…”

“Peter, what happens if you die young?” Michelle asks suddenly, snapping the book shut.

Peter looks up from his own book and looks at the one in her hands, “you just lost your page,” he says.

“Please answer the question,” she begs, her voice now wavering.

Peter draws in a deep breath, his gaze trailing away from her as he speaks slowly, “I guess… I guess I’ll be grateful for the years I did have.”

“I mean what happens to me?” She almost demands it, but the distress in her voice is clear and forces Peter to meet her gaze again.

He’s quiet for a few beats, listening to the anxious rhythm of Michelle’s heart and her uneven, nervous breaths. Michelle watches him, hiding her impatience as she’s eager for a response.

“I think…” he finally says, “I think that we shouldn’t think about that. Maybe just… focus on the present and take things one step at a time.”

Michelle chokes back a sob and snaps, “but what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Peter cries exasperatedly, “I know that’s not the answer you want, but I have no fucking idea, and y’know what? That scares me, ‘cause I hate the idea of you being alone!” He pauses and heaves a sigh and sinks into his pillows, “I’m sorry, Em,” his voice is softer now, “I really don’t know…. And I really don’t want to think about it.”

Michelle chews on the inside of her cheek silently, wiping away a tear before it can fall. Peter lets out a shaky breath and looks away, unable to meet her broken gaze.

Michelle isn’t sure how long they’re quiet for, but she slowly feels the knots in her stomach unwind and her clenched heart begins to relax as she gazes at her husband. Her shoulders go from tense to slouched as she takes in his big brown eyes and the freckles that litter his cheeks and his chestnut curls that fall over his forehead.

He’s here, she thinks, he’s here now, let’s just focus on that.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek lightly, “we’ll get old if we’re lucky,” she says simply, “for now, we can do what you said: take things one step at a time.”

Peter looks at her and smiles warmly, “I like that plan.”

He holds the back of her neck in the palm of his hand and draws her into a deep, loving kiss. She sinks into his touch, cupping his face with her hand and gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“I love you, Em,” Peter mutters to her as he ousts himself from the kiss.

“I know,” she replies, curling up against his side and resting her head on his chest, “I love you too.”

[zenith-impact]

Riptide - Part Ten

Read on AO3 here!

[1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9]

When you got back to Childe’s apartment, you barely even noticed that the sun had come up. You heard him joking with you over it - something about how happy he is to see your shining face - but you ignored him, too fixated on the note in your hand. 

What was so important to your mother that she would write a letter to you?

What was so important that Shing would keep it?

You felt a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll make breakfast after I clean up,” Childe said. “Take all the time you need.” He hummed as he disappeared into his room, kicking the door closed. You sat on the couch, waiting. When he didn’t come back out after more than a few minutes, you unfolded the letter and started from the beginning. 

To my wonderful daughter,

It pains me that you may not see this… but I am writing to you anyway. Your father and I have been working for years on our vision research, even though I'm the one that's more invested in it. Your father doesn't know the truth. I've never found it in my heart to tell him. 

I'm dying. And I've known this for awhile now. I wish I could tell you in person, but I don't have much time left. Even as I write this, I'm working to prevent my end. I don't want to leave either of you alone. I don't want you to live the rest of your life without me. And maybe I'm being selfish. I know my benefactor isn't the best person in the world. But no one else would fund my research. No one would listen to me. 

But there is something important I need to tell you: I left a delusion with your father. I was lucky enough to obtain one from the Tsaritsa herself thanks to the vision she granted me. And I intend to pass it on to you. 

You might know of my work by now, and you might be wondering: why would my mother give me something so dangerous? It's because I have faith that you can use it as well as I can. When you got your vision, I knew the Tsaritsa was blessing you. I don't have much time, so I need to tell you how to use it, and what it is capable of. 

Then, the letter ended. Surprised, you flipped it over, hoping you'd find something else. But the page was blank. You read it again and again, but nothing new came to you. "Childe?" You yelled. "Was there more to this letter?" 

Silence followed you. You heard the sloshing of water followed by a drain. A moment later, the door snapped open and your face turned a deep red as Childe stepped out in nothing but a black towel. He grinned at you, brushing back his wet hair. When you realized you were staring, you snapped your eyes away, choosing instead  to look out the window. Childe laughed as he plopped onto the couch beside you. "Nothing that we found, but I'm sure you can guess why it isn't there." 

"Shing wanted to learn how to use a delusion."

"So we can assume that he has a real one. Or a fake one he's confident won't kill him." 

"But why would he keep this part of the letter?" 

"Who knows?" Childe said as he stood up and wandered over to the kitchen. "Bacon and eggs sound good?" 

You glanced at him only to snap your gaze away a second time. "What are you doing?" 

"Making breakfast." 

"Like that? You're not even dressed!"

He was behind the couch in an instant, leaning over the back with his face close to yours. You couldn't help but look up at him, nor could you ignore the smirk he gave you or the amusement in his eyes. "Does it bother you, girlie?"  He said. "Well, you're welcome." 

"Put some clothes on," you said, pushing him away. He laughed and disappeared back into his room. A few minutes later, he emerged with his usual outfit, except the scarf that he tossed over the couch. 

"So breakfast?" 

"Sounds fine," you muttered as you folded the letter and tucked it away into your pocket. You wouldn't get anything else out of it now, but you wished you had the other half. 

"Practice your Hydro control while you wait," Childe said as he grabbed some food from the fridge. 

"How?"

"Remember the shapes I made?" 

"I highly doubt I'll be able to make a bird out of nothing." 

Childe grabbed a cup and filled it with water before setting it on the coffee table in front of you. "You'll learn to pull from the air eventually." 

"How do you make full blades and a polearm from the air?" 

"Lots of…" 

"Practice," you cut him off with a deadpan expression. "I get it." 

He chuckled. "Then do it." 

-----------

For the next half hour, you tried your best to manipulate the water in the cup. At first, you just wanted to pull some from it in no specific shape or way. You managed to swirl it upward for a bit like an inverted tornado, but you lost control and dropped most of it on the table. Childe appeared with a new cup of water before returning to his cooking. Frustrated, you tried again. This time, you managed to make a small star from the water on the table, but only for a few seconds. Still, you felt proud of yourself as you cleaned up the water you spilled just as Childe set a plate down in front of you. It smelled incredible. Your mouth was watering as you cut into the eggs, ignoring Childe's proud smile. 

“So?” He said. You glared at him and kept eating. He just chuckled and shook his head, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from  you. For a while, you both ate in silence. Every time you glanced up, Childe was watching you. You didn’t know why, but you weren't as uncomfortable as you thought you would be. Maybe you’d gotten used to his presence. Maybe you just didn’t care anymore. 

“You must have enjoyed it,” Childe said after swallowing the last of his bacon. “You ate faster than I did.”

“It was… fine,” You said. 

He grinned. “I’ll take it.” Then, as his hand dropped to the table, his fingers brushed yours. You froze, glancing at them before looking up at him. His head had dropped to his other hand, propped up on the table as he continued to stare back at you. Then, his hand slid further up yours until it was resting over it completely. 

“Childe,” You said. 

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand.”

“... Why?”

“Because I can.”

That baffled you, but then you realized you hadn’t bothered to - or even wanted to - pull away. And he seemed to know this, for he just smiled as his thumb ran along the side of your hand, back and forth in a soothing motion. “But we…”

A knock on the door stopped you. Childe hopped up, glancing through the window before he swung the door open with a grin. “Andrei!” He said as a man dressed in a long, gray coat stood on the porch. 

“We found their warehouse,” Andrei said, breathless. His forehead glistened with sweat, and his breathing was ragged as he held his hand against the door frame. “But they have ruin guards and ruin hunters guarding the place. We think they may have stolen some from our warehouse.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” Childe said with a dramatic sigh. “Guess I’ll have to go take care of them.” He glanced back at you. “How about you go meet with Zhongli? I’ll tell him…”

“I’m going with you,” You said. 

Childe raised an eyebrow. “Ruin guards aren’t child’s play. So maybe…”

“I can handle it,” You said. “I’m your partner, aren’t I?”

Childe sighed again as he swept a hand through his hair. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic,” He looked back at Andrei. “So where are we headed?” 

-----------

The warehouse was a rather conspicuous building up the path that ran over Qingxu Pool, and getting to it was far more taxing than it needed to be. The entire pathway and everything around it was a Hilichurl haven, with more Hilichurls than you’d seen in a long time. Each and every one of them wanted to fight you as if it were some sort of competition to see who could knock the two of you down first. You held your own, but Childe was a force of nature, ripping through the masses as if they were nothing but paper. You tried to help by freezing whatever shields you could so he could shatter them, but he was not in the mood to wait for you or anyone else to fight with him. You were grateful that Hilichurl bodies didn’t linger for too long after death or the massacre would have been a terrible sight to behold. 

“It’s for the best,” He said without a smile on his face. “They would’ve killed anyone else that tried to come up here anyway.”

“Then how did anyone else get to this warehouse?”

“Perfect place, isn’t it?”

The two of you stopped in front of a massive warehouse, far bigger than you imagined. It looked like it had been a rushed project, as the wooden planks weren't quite straight and the building seemed to be leaning just slightly to one side. It was stable otherwise, which wasn't really saying much. "This thing is going to come down at any minute." 

"It's been around this long," Childe said. 

"We don't know how long that really is, though." 

"Long enough." He walked toward it with purpose, leaving you to scramble behind him, summoning your catalyst to you back. 

"It's quiet," You said. 

"Too quiet," He agreed. "I hope there's at least something to fight."

"Maybe it would be better if there's not?" 

The look he gave you was one of pure disdain. "Then this trip would have been for nothing." 

"I wouldn't say that," You muttered as he pried the massive door open. Inside, the warehouse was just one big space. At the back. You could see crates overflowing with what might have been delusions, but it was hard to tell from a distance. Between you and those crates, however, were at least half a dozen deactivated ruin guards. You'd never seen so many in one place. But when you went to warn Childe about stepping inside, you realized he was grinning like a schoolboy that had found some candy. 

"This is going to be fun," He said, summoning his polearm. "Try not to get in the way, girlie." 

He took off before you could stop him. He slashed through the first Ruin Guard before it rose, then turned on the second in the blink of an eye. You could only stare as he hopped between each one as if each “kill” was feuling some kind of innate bloodlust that you knew he probably had. You supposed it was different fighting Ruin Guards than people, but he seemed so in the zone you didn’t dare break him out of it. 

A clicking beside you drew your attention away. You leaped to the side as a Ruin Hunter dove at you, its drill spinning so fast it likely would have skewered you if you hadn’t noticed in time. The hunter spun around, sharpening its blade before it pulled it back, ready to strike again. You dodged out of the way a second time and summoned your catalyst. You knew from a couple of your adventures where its weak points were, but you’d never actually fought one before. All the others you’d seen had been smashed or deactivated. But this one was alive and ready to kill. You glanced at Childe who either didn’t notice your plight or assumed you had it handled. 

You had told him you were his partner after all. 

Ruin Guards aren’t child’s play, he’d said. 

I can handle it. 

You were starting to regret those words. 

You dove out of the way a third time and summoned a large icicle, throwing it at the hunter. It sliced it out of the air, but missed a second one that struck it in the chest. But it kept moving, blissfully unaware of the dagger sticking out of its body. You weren’t surprised, as the weak point was much higher on its head. But you had hoped it would slow it down a little. You darted away again, climbing up to the scaffolding overlooking the scene. Childe was finished with his carnage and was now watching you with what you assumed was interest. Bastard. You thought. He could take this thing down with ease. 

Well fine. If he was going to be like that, then you’d just have to put on a show. 

As the hunter finally realized where you were, you jumped down and summoned as many icicles as you could. He ran around it, dodging attacks and throwing them as fast as possible. Many struck their target, but none hit the weak point. The hunter was angled just wrong that it was almost impossible to do. You’d have to attack it from above. But when you went for the scaffolding again, it knocked it down. You cursed under your breath, moving back to the other side of the warehouse.  It followed you, drill arm extended backward.  You hopped up the second scaffolding and jumped. The drill swiped under you as you summoned an icicle on top of its head. When you landed, you swiped your arm down. The icicle slammed into the hunter’s weak point. The monster twitched as it fell to the ground. 

Use your delusion. The words rang in your head, a constant reminder that you were even still carrying it. But with the hunter disarmed, you figured it was worth a shot. You pulled off of your ice, melting it just enough to summon the water. Using your catalyst, you directed the water around the hunter, wrapping it like a rope. Around and around it went, pinning it to the ground. Just as the light on its weak point turned back on, you squeezed your fist. The water and ice slammed deeper into its body, crushing it. The robot collapsed to one side, its light out for good. 

Silence descended over the room aside from your heavy breathing. Your fingers were cold, but there was no ice on your skin. An improvement, you thought, but not perfect. 

Then, Childe started laughing.

Your gaze snapped over to him, perplexed. He was clapping now as he wandered toward you, his own weapons long forgotten. “And here I thought you wouldn’t be able to do it,” He said, leaning forward until his face was even with yours. “I’m glad you could prove me wrong.”

You scowled as you pushed him away. “Were you hoping I’d die or something?”

“Nah,” He said. “You’re better than that.”

“So…”

“You’re pretty cute when you’re angry.”

You stared at him as the heat rose in your cheeks. “What did you just say?”

His eyes gleamed with amusement. “You heard me.”

Was he flirting with you? Here? Now? “What kind of crazy…?”

“Hey!”

You spun around, nearly knocking into Childe. Three men stood in the doorway, eyes wide as they stared at the destruction. “What are you doing here?” The lead man- some tall, lean guy with a pyro vision (delusion?) on his chest - said, though you could hear the tremble in his voice. 

“Putting your parade...” Childe said with a shrug and a sly glance at you, “on ice”

“You can’t be serious,” You said.

He ignored you. “All those delusions in the back are now the property of the Fatui. You may as well leave.”  

“Hell no!” The second one said. “We’re not leaving until the both of you are dead.”

“Bold words,” you muttered. 

Childe hummed in agreement. “You honestly think you can even put up a fight against either of us?”  He clamped a hand down on your shoulder, and you didn’t bother trying to escape from it. “How stupid can you be?”

“We can,” The third one said, taking a brave step forward. He unclipped his delusion from his waist and held it out as if trying to ward off evil. “We know your tricks, Harbinger.”

“Oh?” Childe said, crossing his arms. “And what kind of tricks are those?” 

The man didn’t answer, but the other two lifted their delusions just as he did. Then, all three pulled small daggers out of their pockets, resting the delusions in their hands. “Just you wait,” The leader said. “This is what he’s really after.” 

“Shing?” You said, but all three ignored you as they stabbed their daggers into the delusions. A burst of power nearly knocked you off your feet, but Childe was there to catch you. A mixture of wind and flames shot toward you, but a shield of water disrupted it. “What’s going on?” You said. Childe didn’t answer as circles of their respective elements appeared around the men’s feet. But as it rose higher, you heard screams of agony. The leader grabbed his chest and stumbled into the wall. The second man grabbed his head and fell to his knees. The third stood motionless, his eyes glazed over. You watched, horrified as their bodies began to change. You heard the cracking of bones as they grew. Clothes tore. Skin tightened. One had something akin to armor appear over his skin, but it was spotty, only covering bits and pieces. Another produced a flowing, green cape, but it was torn and ragged. 

“What’s going on?”

“Transformations,” Childe said. “But they’re all wrong.”

“Is that a thing delusions let you do?”

“They shouldn’t be able to,” Childe said as he summoned his daggers. “These delusions are more powerful than I thought.” 

The three men moved forward, but only the leader gained any kind of speed. Childe yanked you behind him before stabbing the man in the chest. But that only enraged the thing more as it swung a deformed fist. Childe parried it and pushed himself back. The two fought for a while as the others finally caught up. You scrambled to summon whatever ice you could, but every strike was brushed off as if it were nothing. Even shots directly to their eyes were ignored. “Get back,” Childe said as he dodged another swing. “I’ll take care of this.”

You rushed away as the three descended on him. “Childe!”

A flash of purple erupted from his body. The men were launched backwards as someone new appeared in Childe’s place; a taller man covered in armor. His mask was now holding a single, large red gem of some kind, and his weapons were back to their purple hue. You could only stare as he shot at the men, stabbing each one through with little care. They fought back, but bursts of electricity stunned them. Childe pinned one to the ground, then turned on another. Black blood splattered the floor, and you found yourself closing your eyes as he turned on the third. 

Again, everything went silent. 

A moment later, a distorted voice spoke. “Come on, girlie. I’m not that scary.”

You opened your eyes to see that the armored man was now directly in front of you, his purple cape flowing in the nonexistent wind. He was so much taller now, towering over you as he floated at least a foot off the ground. Childe propped his polearm up one his shoulder, staring down at you. You didn’t know what he was thinking. You couldn’t even see his face. “Transformation,” was all you said. 

“A proper transformation,” Childe said as he dropped to the floor. In another flash, the armor vanished and he returned to normal. “It’s unfortunate I had to use it on these clowns, but what can you do.”

“They’re…”

“Dead?” He said. “They were dead already. Walking husks of… something.” He glanced behind him, but you couldn’t look. You didn’t want to see what he’d left behind. “This is something new. Something that wasn’t in your mother’s diary. At least, not as far as I can remember.” He turned back, his eyes trailing to something behind you. “We need to destroy these delusions.”

“But what if breaking them causes that?” You said, nodding toward the men. 

Childe brought his finger to his chin, glancing down at you. “I don’t think it will… but you’re right. That is a risk we shouldn’t take. But there’s another way we could dispose of them if we get them back to the harbor.”

“I don’t think the Fatui should be spotted carrying a wagon load of delusions back into Liyue.”

Childe hummed again, clearly in agreement. “I’ll talk to Andrei. Get some of our men to patrol the area. The Hilichurls we killed will be back in a day or two, so I don’t think we’ll have much trouble.”

“Unless more people… transform.”

“That is our biggest concern at the moment,” Childe said. “But if rumors spread that these transformations kill you…”

“Would that happen to me?” You whispered, finally looking at the bodies. It was a horrifying mess, and all you could imagine was your own body doing that. Breaking apart. Twisted. Freezing. 

“No,” Childe said. “Your delusion is real, and any transformation you managed to pull off would be closer to mine.” He grinned lazily as he put his hand back on your shoulder. “But you can’t be afraid of it.” 

“Look at them!” You said. “Of course I’m…”

“But you can’t be,” Childe interrupted. “If you ever reach a point you need to use it, embrace it and you will control it.”

You went silent, eyes flickering back to his. You thought he might have looked pleased with himself. Instead, he looked pensive, staring at you without really seeing you. You knew his mind was much farther away than the warehouse. “We need to talk to my father,” You said. “He has to know something.”

Childe blinked, and his eyes refocused. “I’ll look into it.”

“No,” you said. “I need to talk to him. He won’t open up to you.”

“And you think he’ll talk to you?”

You hesitated.  “I have to try.”

Childe sighed. “Fine. Just give me a few days to scout out the area.”

You nodded as your eyes rested back on the bodies, lost in thought.

[knuffled]

Just Practice - Chapter 15

this is the most important chapter in the story so far since chapter seven, so i hope you enjoy this! if you could drop a comment and/or reblog to support all the hard work, it would mean a lot to me! 

here’s the ao3 link

The first thing that greeted Annabeth when she stepped out of her car was the sound of crashing waves and the smell of sea salt carried on a gentle breeze. She leaned against the side of her car and drank in the view of the ocean, relishing in the way the wind tousled her hair. The beach was packed with families and college students on spring break, and for good reason. It was late March, and the weather was absolutely perfect outside. The sand was pleasantly warm between her toes, and seagulls cawed overhead in a clear blue sky.

Coming to the beach for spring break had been Rachel’s idea. Her father owned a villa not far from the shore, and she had offered to let them all stay there overnight. It was exactly what Annabeth needed after the past month and a half. After Percy’s victory at state, Annabeth had been absolutely swamped with school work. Nearly every week there was some new project deadline, essay to turn in, or exam to study for, and by the time finals rolled around, Annabeth found herself running on fumes. She hadn’t realized how bad it was until she came home after her final exam and promptly passed the fuck out in her room only to wake up the following afternoon, seventeen hours later.

Annabeth gave herself some time to just stand barefoot in the sand until Piper texted her, informing her that she and Jason were setting up camp further down the beach where it was more secluded. Taking that as her cue to move, Annabeth leisurely made her way down the beach and found Piper and Jason a few minutes later, trying to set up a beach umbrella. The umbrella was an ancient red and white striped monstrosity that looked like it had seen better days. Annabeth watched her friends struggle for a while, amused by how frustrated they were getting when the base of the umbrella slipped in the sand, until Piper noticed her and scowled.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch or do you plan on helping out?” Piper huffed.

“But you were doing oh so well without me,” Annabeth said innocently. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything.”

Jason put a hand on Piper’s shoulder before she could snap and offered Annabeth a tired smile. “We could really use your help, Annabeth.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Piper muttered something foul under her breath, but Annabeth couldn’t help grinning anyways before she went to help Jason. It took longer than she would have liked, but eventually the three of them managed to get the umbrella to stay in place, just as Hazel, Frank, and Leo arrived.

Leo pointed at the umbrella and said, “That thing looks like it came straight out of the fifties.”

“Shut it, Valdez,” Piper snapped. “We just spent nearly twenty minutes trying to get that fucker to stay still.”

Leo held his palms up in surrender. “Ok, apologies. Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I get it. It’s cool.”

“That wasn’t an invitation to keep talking,” Piper warned.

Leo pantomimed zipping his lips, making Annabeth grin. Rolling her eyes, Hazel unzipped her backpack and handed each of them a bottle of homemade lemonade.

“Hopefully, it’s still cold and all the ice didn’t melt,” Hazel said.

Piper took a sip and moaned, “Hazel, you’re a goddamn lifesaver.”

“Don’t make noises like that in public,” Annabeth quipped.

Although she wanted to glare at Annabeth, Piper spotted Rachel and Percy further down the beach and called out to them instead. Annabeth’s heart suddenly began pounding harder in her chest, and she found herself involuntarily searching for him over her shoulder. They had barely talked or even seen each other since State, so she had expected to be more excited to see him, but she found herself strangely nervous instead. The nervousness only grew worse for some reason when Percy noticed her and sent her a warm smile.

“Sorry we’re late,” Percy said. “Rache forgot something so we had to drive back to her place.”

“Let’s not sweat the details,” Rachel said, waving her hand dismissively. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I am dying to get into the water. Anyone know where the changing rooms are?”

“I saw some on the way here,” Hazel said. “Annabeth, did you want to join us?”

Annabeth cleared her throat and shook her head. “Uh, no, I’m wearing my swimsuit under my clothes already.”

With that, Hazel nodded and left with Rachel for the changing rooms. The boys went down to the water, but Percy stayed behind since he had brought some beach towels with him. He spread them beneath the umbrella so they wouldn’t have to sit on the sand. Piper left a short while later once she was done applying some sunscreen, leaving Annabeth and Percy alone. Annabeth borrowed Piper’s sunscreen as an excuse to leave after Percy did, but he plopped down beside her with a sigh instead.

Annabeth couldn’t help sneaking a quick sidelong glance at him. He looked good, really good. His unzipped black sweatshirt billowed in the breeze and stood in sharp contrast to the white shirt he wore underneath. There was a relaxed, easy smile on his face, and his sun-kissed skin made him look positively radiant.

“Hey, stranger,” Percy said, derailing her thoughts. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

Annabeth tucked her hair behind her reddening ears and said, “Y-Yeah, not since State, I think.”

“Glad to see you’re still in one piece,” Percy said.

Annabeth breathed a laugh. “Not entirely sure about that.”

Percy cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You do look a little worse for the wear.”

“Rude.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I distinctly remember warning you not to take three AP courses your senior year, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Annabeth scowled and said, “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

Percy laughed and leaned back on his elbows. “And what would be the fun in that? It’s not every day that you get to tell Annabeth Chase that you told her so.”

“Someone sure sounds awfully pleased with himself.”

“Oh, believe me, I am,” Percy said, grinning. “But I do suppose I can cut you some slack. You know, considering how we’re at the beach and all.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Annabeth deadpanned.

Percy made a show of clapping mildly. “Oh, well done. That sounded like an SAT word.”

Annabeth barked a laugh despite herself and shoved him, but that only made his grin widen. She was relieved to feel the awkwardness dissipating between them, but her respite was short lived because Percy suddenly removed his shirt and tossed it on the towel beside her.

“W-What are you doing? Why are you taking off your clothes?” Annabeth stammered, unable to hide the panic in her voice.

Percy looked at her like she had sprouted a second head. “It’s kind of hard to go swimming when you still have your clothes on.”

Annabeth looked away to hide the fact that her face was turning pink. “I know that! But can’t you go change in the changing rooms?”

Percy blinked in surprise and said, “Oh, sorry. You’ve seen me do this like a hundred times, so I didn’t think that you’d mind.”

He was right. She had seen him shirtless more times than she could count, so why was she suddenly being so weird about it? She needed to get a fucking grip. And yet, it was everything she could do not to stare shamelessly at him. Christ, at this proximity, the scent of his cologne was inescapable, and it only served to make her feel even more flustered.

“Annabeth, are you okay? You’ve been acting really strange,” Percy said.

“I-I’m fine,” Annabeth squeaked. “Just tired.”

“Alright, try not to push yourself,” Percy said, standing up. “I’m gonna head down to the water now. Let me know if you need anything.”

Annabeth nodded, still refusing to look at him. It was only after he was gone that she stopped holding her breath. She screwed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hands. What the fuck was she doing? Why was she acting so weird? All her feelings seemed to contradict one another. She felt a bizarre mix of exhilaration and anxiety, like thousands of butterflies fluttering about in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes were drawn to Percy even though she couldn’t bear to look at him. There was definitely something wrong with her.

Annabeth took a deep breath and forced herself to stand up and head down to the water. For now, she resolved herself to just make the most of her time at the beach instead of wallowing in her own awkwardness. Nevertheless, she did make a point of avoiding where Percy was to give herself a breather. However, in her momentary lapse of concentration, Piper snuck up on her and tackled her into the sea, sending salt water rushing up her nose.

She surfaced sputtering and discombobulated only to find Piper laughing uproariously behind her. Annabeth chased after her in a murderous rage, but Piper quickly retreated to the sea and put some distance between them. Piper had always been the better swimmer, so it took a few minutes before Annabeth finally caught her, but once she did, Annabeth dunked her underwater for a full minute as payback.

Eventually, Rachel and Hazel returned from the changing rooms and joined them in the water as well. They all splashed around together for a few hours under the midday sun, and Annabeth forgot all about how awkward she felt around Percy.

They broke for lunch after that and settled on a shack that sold burgers further up the beach. Unfortunately, the only vegetarian option on the menu was fries, so Piper had to drive herself to a nearby Taco Bell. Annabeth couldn’t help feeling sorry for her when Piper returned twenty minutes later, absolutely livid, because the rest of them had already finished eating.

“I can’t fucking believe there are still restaurants in this day and age that don’t have vegetarian options,” Piper fumed.

“Remind me to buy some stuff for dinner tonight so you don’t have to do this again,” Rachel said, yawning.

“How far away is your villa again?” Frank asked.

“Just a fifteen minute drive or so,” Rachel said, finishing her salad. “We’ve got a firepit out back, so we can have a bonfire tonight! We can make smores and everything.”

“Dibs on lighting the bonfire,” Leo said quickly.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Piper said vehemently.

“C’mon, I promise I’ll keep it under control this time, Pipes,” Leo pleaded.

“The last time you were in charge of the bonfire, you nearly burned my fucking house down,” Piper snapped.

“That was like three years ago!”

“It was at my birthday last June.”

“I’ll handle the fire, Leo,” Jason interrupted. “You can help me out if you’d like.”

Leo sank in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “You guys are no fun.”

“A bonfire sounds nice,” Frank said, ignoring him.

“Yeah, it’ll be chill,” Rachel said, nodding. “We’ll have a section of the beach all to ourselves. I think my dad probably has some alcohol stashed away somewhere in the house.”

“Percy, watch over us and make sure we don’t do anything stupid,” Piper said, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Percy gave her a wary look. “I don’t recall volunteering to be a babysitter.”

“But you’re the only one here that doesn’t drink,” Piper protested. “Pretty please?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Buttering me up isn’t going to work, you know.”

“Annabeth, help me convince your boyfriend,” Piper whined.

Annabeth paused mid-drink and looked between them. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one that’ll get black-out drunk and try to like hunt for mermaids or something.”

That got a laugh out of everyone, much to Piper’s chagrin.

After they finished eating, they returned to their spot under the umbrella. Hazel and Frank went back to laze around in the water while Rachel and Leo decided to go build sandcastles on the beach. The rest of them sat under the umbrella and talked amongst themselves for a while, but eventually Jason left for the bathroom. Percy joined him because he said he had spotted a shop selling snow cones on the way here, leaving Annabeth alone with Piper.

Once they were out of earshot, Piper turned to Annabeth with a wolfish grin. “Lovin’ the swimsuit, babe.”

“This is hardly anything special,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. She was just wearing a plain black two piece she’d found at Target the summer before.

Piper raised an eyebrow and said, “Percy certainly seemed to think it was. Boy couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Annabeth blinked in surprise. Piper had to be trolling her. Sure, she had felt his eyes on her a few times, but that didn’t mean anything.

“You’re obviously fucking with me.”

“I’m being serious,” Piper laughed. “You look hot, Annababe.”

Annabeth looked down at her swimsuit and felt her face heat up. She didn’t really think she was much to look at honestly. It wasn’t like she had low self-esteem or anything, but her body had always been more of an instrument to her than a source of beauty. If you asked her, the only things she really had going for her were her height and the slender, toned physique that she had built over years of running long distance. Beyond that, Annabeth thought she was rather plain.

“Thanks,” Annabeth mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Piper said, stifling a yawn. “I wonder what’s taking him so long.”

Annabeth shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the beach for Percy, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Instead of sitting around and getting stuck in her thoughts, Annabeth decided to take her mind off things and search for him instead.

She stood up and brushed the sand off her thighs and said, “I’m gonna go look for him.”

“Ok, stay safe,” Piper said. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

Annabeth nodded and made her way back in the direction of the parking lot. Percy had said that the snow cone shop was on the other end, but he still should have gotten back by now. Maybe he was having trouble carrying all those snow cones by himself or perhaps the line was really long. She made it all the way to the shop without running into Percy, and she couldn’t see him standing in line either.

She scanned the surrounding area for him without much luck and almost gave up on her search when she spotted the familiar outline of his back. He was cradling a carton of snow cones in his arms and talking to two college aged girls. Annabeth took a step forward, trepidation filling her chest. She couldn’t make out the look on his face because his back was turned towards her, but she thought she caught a glimpse of a polite, confused smile on his face, like he wasn’t entirely sure why the girls were talking to him.

Annabeth balled her hands in fists at her sides and clenched her jaw. It was obvious by the way the girls laughed sycophantically and twirled their hair, practically thrusting their tits in his face, that they were hitting on him. What did the idiot think would happen if he was gonna waltz around the beach shirtless like that?

She had half a mind to go over and interrupt them, but for some reason she found herself rooted in place. Annabeth wasn’t sure why she disliked them so much, but the more she thought about it, the less reason she realized she had to interfere. Percy wasn’t actually her boyfriend after all. Besides, he was free to leave at any time, but he hadn’t which probably meant he wanted to be there. In any case, it was none of her business to step in.

And yet, she couldn’t force herself to simply turn on her heels and leave either.

But then one of the girls, a haughty looking redhead, started tugging on his forearm insistently. Percy made a small show of resistance, enough to show he wasn’t interested, but apparently they didn’t seem to pick up on that because the other girl decided to help her friend by tugging Percy’s other arm.

Annabeth moved without realizing what she was doing and pulled Percy against her chest. A possessive thrill rushed through her when the look of discomfort on his face gave way to relief once he saw her.

She positioned herself in front of Percy and glared at the girls. “What’s going on here?”

The redhead’s eyes flashed with irritation, but she forced herself to muster a saccharine smile. “Oh, we were just inviting him to come have some drinks with us.”

“Can’t you see he’s clearly uncomfortable?” Annabeth asked. “I’m guessing he even told you he doesn’t drink too.”

The girls exchanged looks with each other. “I mean, he was obviously joking about that.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

The girls recoiled like they had been slapped across the face. Annabeth took the opportunity to whisper to Percy that they were leaving and led him away by the hand before the girls could react. The girls protested behind them, but the only thing Annabeth could focus on was the feeling of Percy’s hand in hers. Blood pounded in Annabeth’s ears, and something simmered in her veins like magma. It took her a while to realize that Percy was calling out for her to stop.

“Annabeth, slow down,” Percy said. “You’re hurting me.”

Annabeth dropped his wrist like she’d been burned and looked away. “Sorry.”

Percy set the snow cones down and rubbed his wrist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sur-”

“I said I’m fine,” Annabeth snapped.

Her tone was harsh enough to prove she was lying, but she couldn’t help it. Something dark smoldered in the pit of her stomach, making her restless. She didn’t know what it was, but the sensation was intolerable and she wanted it to stop.

Percy put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to face him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Annabeth balled her hands into fists and stared at her feet. “I-I don’t know. I’m just- I don’t know, I feel really weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just hated it, seeing the way they were clinging on to you,” Annabeth said tightly. “Why didn’t you just leave? It was like you wanted them to fawn all over you.”

“I tried but they wouldn’t let me leave.”

Annabeth met his eyes for the first time. “If you really wanted to leave, they wouldn’t have been able to stop you.”

Percy blinked in surprise and furrowed his brow. “Are you- are you jealous?”

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest, and her face began to prickle. “I-I don’t know. I just didn’t like it.”

Percy’s lips tugged upwards involuntarily in a smile, making Annabeth even angrier. “What’s so funny?”

Percy hid his smile behind his hand. “Oh, um, nothing. Sorry. I just wanted to say that you didn’t have anything to worry about. They were making me super uncomfortable.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and said, “I find that kind of hard to believe.”

“Annabeth, come on, you could tell that they were creeping the fuck out of me from a mile away,” Percy said exasperatedly.

That was enough to coax a smile out of her. “You mean you didn’t like getting eye fucked by total strangers?”

Percy gave her an incredulous look and said, “You know, having tried it, I can’t really say it’s for me.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Percy said flatly. “Besides, I already have a lovely fake-girlfriend willing to save me when I’m a damsel in distress.”

Annabeth’s heart skipped a beat. “Sounds like a real catch.”

“Oh, she most definitely is.”

Annabeth knew that Percy had meant it as a joke, but it made her heart squeeze a little in her chest all the same. She turned away before her face turned red and fought the ridiculous urge to smile. Christ, she needed to get ahold of herself.

“You good?” Percy asked carefully.

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah.”

“We should get going then,” Percy said. “The snow cones are starting to melt.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Annabeth said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be rude to the guy that bought you a strawberry-rhubarb snow cone.”

“A thousand apologies, your majesty.”

Percy hummed happily to himself. “That’s more like it.”

:::

After sunset, they finally left the beach and made for Rachel’s villa. The villa was massive, easily twice the size of Annabeth’s house, and designed in a Spanish style. Annabeth took a moment to admire the terracotta tiled roof, and the large windows that allowed for a generous view of the Pacific. The villa had six separate bedrooms, which she personally found a bit excessive, but it proved to be for the best since there were eight of them. After Rachel took a room for herself, the rest of them drew straws to determine who would have a room to themselves, and Annabeth somehow managed to win.

Annabeth’s first course of action after dropping off her luggage was to shower. She didn’t like having to shower after spending so much time in the ocean since it made her skin all dry and wrinkly, but it was still a relief to finally wash off all the sand that had stuck to her all day. Unfortunately, Annabeth had been forced to pack in a hurry, so she could only change into what she worn earlier that morning. She had only brought a single change of clothes with her and that was for tomorrow.

She took some time to admire her room while she towel-dried her hair. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was tastefully decorated. A large queen bed sat in the center of the room, flanked by a small cherry wood drawer. Sheer linen curtains framed a tall window that looked out over the ocean. Annabeth leaned against the open window sill and drank in the view of the Pacific. The full moon hung directly overhead and cast its pale, diffused reflection onto the dark water below.

Just as she finished drying her hair, there was a knock at her door. Percy peered into her room, fiddling with the zipper on his sweatshirt.

“Hey, ready to go? I think Jason and Leo are getting the fire started.”

Annabeth set her towel aside and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The bonfire was nearly fully lit by the time they arrived. Jason sat atop one of the four logs circling the pit and kept a watchful eye on the flames. Off to the side, Frank was helping Leo dump some charcoal into the mouth of an expensive looking barbeque grill. Rachel and Hazel chatted to themselves and cut meat and vegetables at the outdoor kitchen countertop. Piper was the only one that appeared to be missing.

Percy noticed that Frank and Leo were having trouble and went over to help them with the grill, leaving Annabeth alone. She didn’t want to be the only one twiddling her thumbs so she figured she would go and help Rachel and Hazel.

“Need any help?” Annabeth asked them.

Hazel shook her head. “No thanks. We are pretty much done here, but we appreciate the offer.”

“Besides, not sure how much I trust you in the kitchen with a knife,” Rachel teased.

“I’m not completely hopeless. I made Percy chicken soup when he got sick, and he said it was pretty good,” Annabeth protested.

Rachel laughed and said, “You could literally make Percy drink poison, and he’d tell you it was delicious if you were the one that made it.”

Blood rushed to Annabeth’s face, making Rachel laugh even harder. She patted Annabeth’s shoulder benevolently and said, “Trust me. It’s for your own good, Chase.”

Annabeth shrugged her off and sat on one of the logs with a scowl. “Where’s Piper?”

“Rachel forgot to get her ingredients, so she had to go buy herself dinner again, the poor girl,” Hazel said.

Rachel looked repentant enough for Annabeth to feel sorry for her, so Annabeth tried to comfort her by saying, “She’s probably more than happy to have Taco Bell twice in one day.”

Annabeth started when someone swatted the back of her head. She turned and looked up with a frown to see Piper standing behind her, holding a burrito.

“Heard that, asshole.”

“You’re literally eating a burrito right now,” Annabeth muttered.

Piper’s face turned pink. “It’s from Chipotle! You can tell by the size!”

“Wow, someone’s getting adventurous,” Annabeth deadpanned.

Piper sat down at the log across from her, beside Jason, and narrowed her eyes. “Bite me.”

Annabeth was interrupted by Leo before she could respond. He skipped over to them with a manic grin and said, “We finally got the grill working!”

“You’re not gonna accidentally blow us up or anything right?” Piper asked dubiously.

“Pipes, charcoal can’t explode,” Leo said flatly. “I know you’re a vegetarian and all, but that’s literally second grade science class.”

“You can never be too sure when it comes to you,” Piper sniffed.

Leo rolled his eyes and waltzed over to Hazel and Rachel. “Looks like you’re almost done! I’ll start taking things over to the grill to get started.”

“Frank, make sure you keep an eye on him!” Hazel shouted when Leo took a plateful of meat and vegetables with him.

Rachel declared to the group that she would go find where her father had stashed his alcohol and returned a short while later with an assortment of liquor and a tray full of glasses. They all poured themselves drinks, apart from Percy, and sat around the fire.

Annabeth had helped herself to some fancy looking bourbon, mainly because she had never tried it before. Her first sip made her throat burn and forced her to cough. Percy gave her a worried look, but she ignored him and took another sip. Once she got over how strong it was, she had to admit that the bourbon was really good. It didn’t take long for that familiar warmth to spread through her body and soften the harsh edges of the world around her.

It took some time for the food to arrive, but it was well worth the wait. Frank had found an array of spices in the kitchen pantry to season the meat with, so even the smell was incredible. After an exhausting day at the beach, they all practically inhaled their food. Piper finished her food first since she had a head start and set up a smores station for dessert. It wasn’t long before they were fighting for spots to roast their marshmallows on the fire.

Later, Rachel disappeared inside the villa and returned with an acoustic guitar. She strummed a few chords and started singing softly, the sound of waves and the crackling fire providing an ambient backdrop. At first, she sang on her own and they were content to listen, but as they got more drunk and uninhibited, they would join in whenever she played a tune they recognized. Barring Frank and Piper, the rest of them were practically tone-deaf, so it sounded so bad that it would send them all into fits of laughter.

It was at times like this that Annabeth was struck by just how lucky she was to have such good friends. She didn’t have many good things in her life, but this was one of them and it wouldn’t last forever. There was no telling where they would all be in a years time or if they would ever be this close again, but that didn’t make her feel sad. Instead, an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude surged through her veins, compelling her to drink in every moment and seat it into her memory so that she would never forget.

But through it all, Annabeth found her eyes drawn to the boy sitting beside her the most. She unconsciously pulled herself closer to Percy over the course of the night and luxuriated in the way their elbows knocked together, a reminder that he was there. Annabeth would catch herself staring at him and the way the flames lit up his laughing face, making him all look every bit as invincible as she felt. At some point, she caught his hand and tangled his fingers between her own, and when he squeezed her hand, she smiled so hard it hurt.

As the night wore on, more of them left, unable to stay awake any longer, until eventually Percy and Annabeth were the only one remaining. The quietness was welcome change after all the noise they had been making, but it was hard not to fall asleep the sound of the rolling waves. Annabeth struggled to keep her drooping eyes open, but Percy looked perfectly fine, probably because he was the only one who hadn’t drank.

“You should go get some sleep,” Percy murmured. “Look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Annabeth hummed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t want to.”

“If you’re expecting me to carry you, you’re going to be sorely mistaken,” Percy said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re too heavy.”

If she had the energy, Annabeth would have scowled. “Rude.”

Percy grinned and looked out over the ocean with a pensive, almost melancholy look. Annabeth poked his cheek with her finger to get him to look at her.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Percy said. “About everything, I guess.”

“Hmm, deep.”

Percy laughed and said, “Alright, smarty pants, I was thinking about the future and my friends and you.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” Annabeth asked, sitting up straighter.

Percy blinked in surprise and said, “I look sad?”

Annabeth nodded and pressed a finger to his brow. “You’re giving yourself wrinkles, like you always do when you’re upset.”

There was a pause before Percy said, “Remember earlier when you saved me from those college girls?”

“What about it?”

Percy stared up at the sky and smiled bitterly. “I never imagined you would ever get jealous over me.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Annabeth found herself saying, “Neither did I.”

Percy turned to her with wide eyes, making her frown. “What?”

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting you to answer seriously.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and nudged him affectionately. “I’m taking this seriously because you are.”

Percy smiled softly and said, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, you dork,” Annabeth said fondly. “Honestly, since when did you become the serious, responsible out of the two of us. What ever happened to the kid that caught frogs during recess and put worms in Nancy Bobofit’s locker?”

Percy laughed and said, “Well, one of us had to grow up, so I figured it might as well be me.”

Annabeth half-heartedly jabbed him with her elbow. “Jerk.”

“You’ve grown up a lot too,” Percy said. “You just don’t realize it.”

“Yeah, how so?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve learned to temper yourself. When you were younger, it was like fire ran through your veins. You acted like the world and everything were promised to you, not out of some sense of arrogance, but like it was your birthright. I remember how you used to argue with the teachers and stuff in front of the whole class because it never occurred to you that there were people you shouldn’t pick fights with. I was always kind of in of awe of how stupidly brave you were. I still am,” Percy said, softly.

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat. Percy was right, about everything, but that wasn’t what was getting to her. It was the fact that his words were a testament to the fact that he had been there with her since the beginning. He had seen her as a bossy, bratty little seven year old and had stuck by her side all the way till now.

“We have been through a lot together, haven’t we?” Annabeth asked thickly.

The tender look in Percy’s eyes made her heart squeeze a little in her chest. “Yeah, we have.”

Annabeth screwed her eyes shut, unable to look at him. She didn’t want this to end, but the moment was beginning to get too much for her, so she stood up suddenly.

“Alright, enough with all the sappiness,” Annabeth said. “Race you to the beach?”

Without waiting for him to respond, Annabeth took off for the water’s edge, running as hard as she could. Percy started a moment later, humoring her like always, and quickly made up the distance. If it wasn’t for the sand and the fact that she was super drunk, Annabeth would have won, but it wasn’t long before Percy caught up to her and slung her over his shoulder. Annabeth shrieked and pounded on his back.

“You better not dump me in the water, you asshole!” Annabeth yelled.

Percy ignored her and sped towards the water, making her fear for the worst. She braced herself for impact, but it never came. Instead, he set her down onto dry sand and grinned down at her. Annabeth scowled and stood up, dusting the sand off her shorts, watching as he rolled up his shorts and waded further into the water. The encroaching tide was cold enough to make her jump when it tickled her toes, but Percy seemed perfectly fine going knee deep into it.

The moonlight streamed down on him, illuminating half his face with its pale glow. Wind rustled his hair and billowed through his clothes as he stared out at the horizon. Under the moonlight, he seemed to age backwards and actually look his eighteen years - the hard lines of worry on his brow smoothened, and the tightness and frustration in his jaws released. There was something about his pale figure standing in the inky sea that made him look so beautiful and true that it made it hard for her to breathe. It reminded her of how Piper had said she had fallen for Jason, how he had seemed to glow, and she couldn’t help feeling like she understood exactly what Piper had meant.

Percy noticed her looking and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Annabeth balled her hands into fists at her side. She wasn’t ready to say it. Not yet. “N-Nothing.”

Percy didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged all the same. Annabeth stared down at her feet so that she wouldn’t be forced to look at him, but her heart pounded in her chest urgently. She started when Percy draped his sweatshirt over her shoulders and stepped past her. It was warm, and it smelled like him.

“I’m gonna head inside,” Percy said softly. “Don’t stay out for too long, okay?”

Annabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Percy lingered there for a moment longer before leaving. Annabeth waited till she heard him enter the villa before she collapsed down on the sand and hugged her knees to her chest. An explanation for her actions and feelings today were finally starting to dawn on her, which sent equal parts terror and exhilaration coursing through her as she stared up at the moon. Her inability to look at him conflicting with her desire never to leave him, the nervousness and exhilaration, the jealousy - all of it pointed to one thing. She was just having a hard time accepting it.

Whenever Annabeth had imagined falling in love, she had expected it to strike her like a bolt of lightning, illuminating her with a sudden, arresting, all-consuming knowledge.

She hadn’t ever imagined that it would be like this: soft and gentle, like an unfolding discovery, the way the petals unfurled when a flower bloomed. And yet, just as sure, just as certain.

Annabeth buried her face in her hands. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny it any longer.

Fuck.

She was in love with him, wasn’t she? She was in love with Percy Jackson.