#give me chat fic but not the one I’ve been avoiding finishing the plot of for months | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renjuseyo · 4 years ago

Note

if ur requests are open can i pls request Jaehyun x male reader where the reader is so drunk that he forgot that his boyfriend(jaehyun) is his boyfriend. then he asks a member if he is taken and they said yes and that will make reader to silently be sad in the corner and jaehyun asks if readers ready to go home......... andddddddd ill leaveee the rest to u hehehehe (iloveurwriting so much)

tipsy ; jaehyun

group: nct

pairing: jung yoonoh / reader (male)

synopsis: both you and jaehyun knew how much of a lightweight you were, but when has that ever stopped you?

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: implied sexual content, explicit language

i lost inspiration for this, so i hope this mess of a fic is okay anon! as always, feedback is appreciated!!

when you peek through the peephole, you expect to see the delivery man holding the package you had ordered online. instead, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the other side of the door, wrapped in a hoodie, mask, and tinted sunglasses. his disguise is pretty unnecessary given how your neighbors are mainly made up of old people who have never heard of nct, but it gets the job done.

once you’ve unhooked the chain bolt, you unlock the door and swing it open. he slightly jumps at the noise, but visibly softens when he sees you. “hey (name),” he greets, slipping off his mask and sunglasses.

“hey yourself. what are you doing here?” you ask. with how hectic his schedule has been after promotions with the nct 2020 project and working as an mc on inkigayo, you two hadn’t seen each other in weeks. though you missed him, you sympathized with the tireless hours he spent working as an idol. at least you preoccupied yourself with netflix.

he slips off his sneakers and enters your home, taking off the rest of his disguise. you close and lock the door behind you, trailing behind him. “i managed to squeak in some free time today, so i came to visit you,” he explains. he faces you with a smile, pulling you close. you subconsciously lean your head onto his shoulder, humming as he sways your bodies.

“i missed you,” you tell him, fingers ghosting his waist. he makes a noise of agreement, resting his chin on your head.

you eventually pull away, eliciting a grumble from jaehyun. contrary to popular belief, he was the clingy one of you two, always using the excuse of “you’re just the perfect size for cuddling.” “stop grumbling, jae. you’ve come so far, so it’s only fair i make you something to eat,” you tell him, making your way towards the kitchen.

he follows suit, hand grabbing at the hood of your hoodie. you stop in front of the refrigerator and open it, canvassing the food you have in there. as you debate what to make for lunch, he rests his chin on your shoulder and snakes both arms around your waist. you roll your eyes, though you don’t make any movements to pry his arms off. “i can always eat something else,” he smirks.

you realize too late the implications of his comment, absentmindedly sorting through the bags of vegetables in your fridge. “do you want takeout instead then? mrs. moon from two doors down said that there’s this really good pho house near here.”

he nuzzles into your shoulder. “i’d really like to eat you,” he says as nonchalantly as one can, considering his implications. you nearly drop a bag of spinach, spluttering incoherent words as you spin around to swat his shoulder. he laughs, loud and proud, a stark contrast from the quiet, polite laugh he’s practiced.

“you’re the worst,” you hiss, reluctantly closing the fridge. he pecks your cheek, eliciting a disgusted screech from you. he leans back with a laugh before attacking your face with kisses. you shut your eyes as you try to wiggle out of his grasp. but jaehyun’s been working out, evident from his arms, and he’s always had an intense grip. when he leans away, satisfied, you flick his forehead. with how clingy jaehyun’s being, making lunch isn’t an option anymore. “i hate you.”

jaehyun eventually relinquishes his attacks, threading his fingers with yours. “you’re usually not this clingy, jae. actually, now that i think about it, you don’t flirt all too much either, much less suggest sexual innuendos. what’s the occasion?” you ask as he walks you two to your living room. he doesn’t immediately respond, flopping down onto the couch and dragging you along with him. you land on his chest with an oomph, your cheek squished against his chest.

he combs his fingers through your hair, smiling as you make a noise of approval. “well, i wasn’t going to say anything before the news outlet, but...” his smile only widens when he sees you look up at him with curious eyes; he nearly coos at how innocent you look. “a certain idol you know might make his acting debut soon~”

your eyes widen, and you quickly prop yourself up with your elbows. “what! no way!” you exclaim, jaw hanging open. jaehyun laughs at your shell-shocked reaction, though it’s a given; when you were in a mood to vent, he would always take your hand and pepper your knuckles with butterfly kisses as you ranted about how he deserved better and shouldn’t only be seen as a visual, whining about how sm failed to show his talents as a singer and an actor. well, those days are over now, he supposes.

“yes way, love. are you excited?” he isn’t sure why he asked that question, considering how shell-shocked you already look. plus, the squeal that leaves your throat and the way you throw yourself onto him is answer enough already.

“do you even have to ask? you used to send me videos of you acting out different roles because you wanted to try acting, and you always did them so well! i’m really proud of you, jae. you deserve it.”

“i’m really glad you think so, (name). do you want to hear-”

“no!” you interrupt, slapping both of your palms on his mouth. he tilts his head in confusion, surprised by your sudden outburst. “knowing you, you’re going to accidentally tell me everything, and then i’m going to know the whole story line before the show even airs!”

he’s about to refute your claims, but he can’t really considering how you’ve layered both of your palms on his mouth. plus, judging by the look you give him, he’s certain he’s going to be eating his own words sooner or later. with a sigh, he peels your palms off. "you’re no fun. can i not even tell you the name and the basic plot?”

“i’m sorry for wanting to give you ratings,” you snort. “and no. then i’ll be waiting in anticipation and will force you to tell me everything, even if you tell me you can’t because i told you before not to say anything. you can’t even give me a drop of information.” well, jaehyun supposes that is true. you’ve always been enticed by television shows; he’s personally seen you react to cliffhangers a show gives before it ultimately gets cancelled. needless to say, it isn’t a pretty sight. “this calls for celebration! we can invite the boys too... do you want it to be extravagant, or are we keeping it low key?” you ask, sitting up and reaching for your phone.

“what happened to just you and me?” jaehyun asks, batting his eyelashes with feigned innocence. “i can think of a lot more fun things we can do.”

you don’t even bat an eye; unlike earlier, you were prepared for this kind of comment. “shoving my foot up your ass sounds really fun, but unfortunately that won’t get me any food. the boys probably already knew before i did, so you’ve probably already celebrated with them... i guess we can keep it simple.”

“i’d take your foot any day,” he fires back with a heavily exaggerated moan, to which you respond with a slap on the arm.

“i’m telling johnny to bring over beer.” you’re texting a group chat with you and the other 127 members. you’re only dating jaehyun, yet sometimes it feels like you’re dating all of them with how close you are. plus, gossiping with jungwoo about your boyfriend is always fun. with him being his roommate, you both often share similar struggles.

he rolls his eyes, stretching over to wrap his arms around your waist. he peers over your shoulder to look at your screen. “please, (name). you’re the lightest lightweight i’ve ever met. who are you telling to bring over drinks? you’re like a baby.”

“fuck you.”

“i think it’s the other way around, but i’d gladly let you order me around~” he flirts.

you shove a pillow in his face as you fire off a text.

after ordering pizza, tteokbokki, and fried chicken, your dinner is nearly complete. the boys were coming over soon, with johnny being in charge of drinks, jungwoo in charge of takeout, and donghyuck in charge of entertainment. you had a nintendo switch jaehyun had gifted you two years ago, and you intended on making full use of it tonight.

(plus, you have yet to beat yuta at super smash bros. today is going to be that day.)

you had finished clearing the table for the food before you notice jaehyun’s sleeping frame on the couch. you’re about to walk over and reprimand him for being unproductive, but seeing how tired and peaceful he looks stops you. instead, you grab a blanket from your room and drape it over him.

you’re about to walk away and grab water bottles for everyone when you feel something tugging your hand. craning your neck, you smile at jaehyun’s hooded eyes laced with sleep. “c’mere,” he murmurs.

water bottles can wait, then. you pat jaehyun’s side, and he scoots over to allow room for you. as you slot yourself in his arm, spreading a leg across his, he makes a noise of satisfaction, eyes fluttering close. “someone’s tired,” you observe, pushing the mop of black bangs obscuring his eyes. “did practice run late?”

he avoids your gaze. “no, i spent the night playing uno with johnny, ten, and mark,” he admits.

you laugh. “must have been intense. i bet you were so burnt out from uno,” you sympathize with sarcasm. “but in general, don’t overexert yourself, okay? i know you’ve been busy, but you need to remember to take care of yourself.”

jaehyun nods, but a yawn rips out of his chest. you give him a knowing look, one that reads what did i say? which causes him to laugh. “yes sir,” he lazily responds.

“as tired as you may be, don’t go falling asleep on me now. the others are going to be here soon. what would they think, the guest of honor asleep at his own party?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead.

he beams at the gesture. “give me more kisses and i’ll think about it,” he coaxes.

usually you don’t give in to his bratty demands, but seeing how tired he is reminds you of the accomplishments he’s achieved in the past year. a kiss is the least you could down. you lean down, breath fanning his lips, and he closes his eyes in contentment.

a few seconds pass, but the kiss never comes. when jaehyun opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see you’re no longer by his side, instead standing by the door. “that’s one way of telling a guy to come and get it,” he sighs, sitting up. he wearily rubs his eyes, blurry eyes watching you.

“sorry jae, taeil-hyung just texted saying they’re here,” you apologize. he sighs, eventually standing up after a few moments of stretching.

just as you had said, knocks resonate throughout your home, signalling their arrival. you peek through the peephole to verify their identities and sure enough, all nine other members stand outside, arms loaded. you undo the chain lock and swing the door open, greeting everyone.

“thanks for having us,” taeyong smiles, stepping into your home. everyone else echoes his message, but it comes out mumbled, like they hadn’t thought of saying anything until taeyong. the power a leader has, you suppose.

“no problem. here, let me grab some of the food.” you scurry over to jungwoo and mark, whose arms were loaded with the takeout you ordered.

as you grab a box of pizza from mark, johnny slaps you on the back. you nearly lurch forward and drop the pizza; if you had, johnny would be first on your hit list. “so jaehyun finally told you?” he asks with a grin.

“thank god. he spent days talking about ways to tell you, knowing how excited you’d be,” sicheng snorts, slipping off his shoes.

you laugh, especially when you see jaehyun spluttering in embarrassment. “you could’ve fooled me. all he did was waltz in and drop the news after he nearly fell asleep. made me feel like a proud parent and everything.”

“you may feel like one now, but wait until you watch him act. just going to be lots of cringing and teasing,” doyoung sneers, elbowing his shoulder.

yuta rolls his eyes. “like you’re one to talk, mr. lead actor.”

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “lead actor?!” doyoung laughs, answering your question. “good for you, hyung!”

jaehyun narrows his eyes. “why do you look more amazed at his news than mine?!”

i’m not a lightweight, you told yourself. i can handle whatever yuta throws at me, you told yourself.

you were sorely mistaken.

jaehyun notices this too, seeing you sway in your seat. he chuckles at the sight; you were never able to hold your liquor, and when you got drunk, you were quite the spontaneous drinker to deal with. one time you had drank so much that you cried over cute things, like when sicheng showed you a picture of his dogs. or the one time you were a man on a mission, flirting with all of the members. needless to say, that led to a very interested jaemin and a very pouty jaehyun.

you had initially planned on just sticking to soda, but yuta had wanted to make things more interesting and challenged you to a game of super smash bros. each time the loser lost, they would have to down a can of beer. despite your inability to hold your liquor, it activated your competitive nature. but of course, yuta is crazy good at any games he suggests, completely demolishing you with lucina. no matter which character you chose, you were just no match against him.

after several fruitless attempts, you’re seated between taeil and sicheng, who seem way too interested in the tteokbokki to notice your behavior. everyone else seems occupied, too; johnny, yuta, jungwoo, and donghyuck are playing mario kart 8, taeyong and mark are immersed in yet another one of their deep, contemplative conversations, and doyoung’s watching the whole scene unfold, supervising everyone (probably to ensure nothing ends up in flames). on the other hand, jaehyun’s sitting on your sofa, alternating between watching the four men in front of your television screaming and you in your tipsy state. he decides to stick with the latter.

eventually you lift your eyes up and make eye contact with jaehyun, who responds with a wink. seeing you flush and look away has his chest swelling with giddiness; you’re just too cute sometimes. the table isn’t far from the sofa, so he can hear any conversation that goes on there. he watches as you take another sip of your can, eyes shifting back and forth from the television and to him. you stare at him for a bit longer, eyes canvassing his face, his posture, his thoughts.

it seems sicheng notices your staring, sitting back down and nudging your shoulder. “what’s so interesting that it’s gotten your attention?” he asks, purposefully raising his voice so jaehyun can hear.

you flush at how loud he is, lazily putting a finger to your lips. “shhh, i’m staring at the pretty boy there.” you point your chin towards jaehyun, who pretends to not see. you’ve never been subtle when you were drunk, but telling you that would just lead to you loudly slurring your arguments. “do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

jaehyun nearly spits out his beer. of all the times you’ve gotten drunk, you’ve never once forgotten that you were his boyfriend - if anything, you were all too eager to prove just how much you belonged to him. he’s not sure whether to feel startled or amused.

sicheng chooses the latter, a smirk forming. “yeah, he has a boyfriend,” he tells you. jaehyun hopes you’ll realize that you’re the boyfriend in question, but seeing how you deflate like a balloon, he guesses not. he questions how much you’ve had to drink.

you slide off of your chair, pouting. “of course a guy as attractive as him has a boyfriend. i’m not surprised,” you grumble, crossing your arms. jaehyun can’t help the amused smirk that makes its way on his face. watching you envy yourself for being his boyfriend is very amusing.

sicheng must feel the same, stifling his laughter. “don’t look so bitter, (name). his boyfriend’s a good guy.”

you pout, crossing your arms. “well, i bet i can treat him ten times better! pretty boy there doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” you boast, standing up.

sicheng can only watch in amusement as you stagger towards the kitchen. if only you knew how strange that statement was. “if you’re so confident about that, then what are you doing? planning on hiding in the kitchen to wallow on your sorrows?” he teases.

“i’m not!” you protest. “i’m just going to get some water because i’m dizzy as fuck and possibly cry about how single i am.” you mumble the last part, though because sicheng has uncanny hearing, he probably heard, if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

jaehyun decides it’s time to intercept, because as amusing as things were, he hoped you weren’t actually going to cry about being single, especially since you had no reason to. he stops by the dining table where taeil and sicheng are. “so i heard you and (name) were talking about me.”

sicheng snorts, rolling his eyes. “just because we said pretty boys doesn’t mean we were talking about you.”

though unaware of the topic, taeil leans in, chewing on a mouthful of pizza. “yeah, for all we know, he could be talking about me!” he chirps. he’s met with an annoyed glare from sicheng (though both of them can see him stifling his laughter), which he responds with an air kiss. typical taeil.

“well, i’m going to check up on him. i’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now,” he teases. taeil looks a little too happy at the joke, whereas sicheng threatens to stab him with a fork. it’s amusing watching their reactions, considering how everyone around them already knows that they’re dating. those two just haven’t admitted anything yet.

he follows you into the kitchen, though you don’t seem to notice, too busy pouring yourself a glass of cold water. “(name),” he greets.

you jump in surprise, nearly spilling water on yourself. when you turn to face jaehyun, your confident nature immediately disappears, quickly replaced with one of bashfulness. “you know me?” you ask, in awe of how said pretty boy could possibly recognize you.

if only you knew just how well he knew you, he thinks to himself. instead, he decides to play along; you’re obviously too drunk to realize how silly this seems. “i do,” he hums, patting your shoulder. he isn’t sure if your red cheeks are from the alcohol or him, though he hopes for the latter. he never gets less prideful when you get all shy because of him.

hoping to maintain the confident facade you had earlier, you quickly clear your throat, looking away. “how can i help you?” you ask, taking a sip of your water.

“well, i was hoping if we could talk in a more... private area?” he asks.

you nearly spit out your water, eyes the size of saucers. he has to stop himself from laughing, afraid the drunk you would get the wrong impression. “just to talk, that’s all. it’s kind of loud here, don’t you think?”

the screams from the living room (which are mainly from johnny and donghyuck and the occasional ones of distress from taeyong) and the volume of the television are evidence enough, so you nod in agreement. “yeah, sure.”

“perfect. let’s go then~” jaehyun laces your fingers together before you can say anything, and your ears are practically fuming with smoke. you’re too distracted by his touch to question how he knows where your bedroom is. when you both enter your room, he flops down on your bed, patting the empty spot beside him. at this, you gasp, scandalized and very flustered. he chuckles at how shy you’ve gotten, shaking his head. “my my (name), get your head out of the gutter. we’re not going to do anything... unless you want to,” he flirts.

jaehyun never tries to take advantage of you, especially when you’re not sober. but when the sober you would throw pillows (or anything that wouldn’t actually hurt him) at him for flirting with you, the drunk you would always fire back with equally flirty remarks, or the shy you would just splutter in embarrassment. he can’t help it, spewing sweet nothings to you - you’re just too fun to mess with for him to not to, especially when you’re drunk.

reluctantly you place your water on your bedside table and lower yourself beside him, heart thumping erratically. he chuckles at how timid you are, a stark contrast from the snarky (name) that he knows so well. he turns to face you, both of your faces only centimetres apart. the smell of alcohol lingers on both of you, though it isn’t as prominent on him as it is on you. he makes a mental note to ask yuta how much you’ve had.

you squeak at how close you two are, hands flying to cover your face. “you have a boyfriend,” you whisper. you’re undeniably flustered, but you would rather die than be known as a homewrecker!

his laugh startles you, even more so when he presses a hand to the small of your back. you look like you’ve committed a heinous crime, potentially causing an attractive man like jaehyun to cheat on his boyfriend. the statement is so abusrd though, considering how you’re the boyfriend in question. “i do, you are right. he won’t be mad at me, though,” he hums, leaning in so close your noses would touch if it weren’t for the makeshift barrier you’ve made from your hands. you flush red in embarrassment, hiding your eyes behind your hands. if you make eye contact with him, you’re sure you’re going to melt into a puddle.

“even if he didn’t mind, i don’t think we should be doing this. i know i wouldn’t be happy if my boyfriend did this,” you whisper.

jaehyun sure is having a field day with this. you’re too flustered and worried to notice the pure look of adoration he’s giving you. “call it a hunch,” he says. “i promise you, he won’t be mad at this.”

“why?”

“you’ll find out tomorrow.” he pauses as a yawn rips out of his chest. “i’m really tired, so i’m going to sleep. the boys probably won’t quiet down on my account, anyways. you can always go back to them if you want, though,” he offers. a small part of him hopes for you to stay and cuddle with him, but judging how you’re so sure he has a boyfriend who would be absolutely devastated for literally sleeping with another man and how you have no knowledge of where you stand, he wouldn’t be surprised if you left.

what does surprise him, though, is when you stay rooted in your spot on the bed. “i’m tired, too,” you say.

jaehyun smiles so sweetly, the one that has his eyes dripping with honey, that your hands fly up to cover your face again. his boyfriend must be lucky to see that sight all of the time, you bitterly think to yourself. still, even if you’re not sure why he’s flirting with you or where you stand, you decide to savor every moment that you get to spend with him. even if you don’t really know who pretty boy is, he’s sweet and kind. plus, only a fool would cover their eyes when someone as beautiful as him lays before you.

he moves an arm to pat your thigh when he freezes in midair, remembering how he’s supposed to have a boyfriend to stay loyal to (even though he’s right in front of him). he retracts his arm and instead pulls your blanket to cover your lower bodies. “goodnight, (name),” he hums, shutting his eyes.

before jaehyun can begin the long process of trying to fall asleep, he feels you tug at his t-shirt. cracking an eye open, he sees you laying before him, staring at him with curious eyes and red cheeks. oh no, now he’s really tempted to kiss you. you’re impossibly adorable, seeing how vulnerable and curious you are. “yes?” he hums, trying to stay awake. the effects from last night’s uno matches have really begin to take a toll on him.

“i don’t think i’ve gotten the chance to ask, but may i know your name?” you ask.

jaehyun chuckles. he’s flirted with you and is even sleeping in the same bed as you, yet he’s forgotten the basic courtesy that is introductions. he didn’t think he would’ve needed it, considering how you’re his boyfriend. but then again, you’ve forgotten that you are his boyfriend. “my name’s yoonoh, but you can call me jaehyun or jae.”

no one actually calls him jae except for you. it’s a short and simple nickname that you have for him, nothing endearing. but because it’s something that only you call him, even though there isn’t a meaning to it, he’s grown fond of the way it sounds leaving your lips. which is why hearing it from anyone that isn’t you only leaves a weird taste on his tongue.

you’re so drunk you don’t even remember jaehyun, nor who he is to you, so it isn’t surprising that you stick with jaehyun instead. he doesn’t mind though, because he knows when you’re sober again he’ll hear you calling him jae and cuddling into him and doing all of the coupley things he wasn’t able to do tonight.

wow, jaehyun really is a lovesick fool. it’s only been one night of not being able to cuddle or kiss you, but he feels like he’s missed a whole eternity of them. he really isn’t sure how he’s lived before you came into his life.

for an hour, you pester jaehyun on how you two became acquainted and who you were to him. he indulged you, of course, purposefully skipping over the part of you becoming boyfriends and doing things that friends definitely didn’t do. his stories seem to be an effective way of getting you to sleep, because in the middle of a story of how a pair of swapped backpacks led to your relationship, you’re lulled to sleep, tired hands clutching onto his t-shirt.

he can only chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on your nose. you’ll sure be in for a storm when you sober up tomorrow morning.

your jaw drops as you stare at the video on doyoung’s phone. it’s of you and sicheng, and right now you can only watch in horror as you pester him for information on the pretty boy you were so interested in last night. you have no recollection of last night’s events, though watching the video makes you glad you don’t. the problem is, the boys were there to witness them, even recording evidence of it on their phones. you’ve already seen pictures that johnny and taeyong have taken from when you and jaehyun were cuddling in your bed.

“please tell me that isn’t me,” you whisper, utterly mortified.

mark pats your shoulder in sympathy. “that’s you, all right.”

at his confirmation, you groan, burying your face in your hands. doyoung and donghyuck are cackling at your demise, with sicheng reciting your complaints word from word to a very amused johnny and yuta.

“...and then he was like well, i bet i can treat him ten times better! pretty boy there doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” sicheng mimics, purposefully raising his voice an octave higher as he mocks you. out of embarrassment, you reach for a pillow on your couch and fling it at him. unlike jaehyun, he’s very good at dodging, proven when he ducks. instead, the pillow smacks yuta square in the face. he throws it back at you with even more force.

you duck, the pillow smacking an unsuspecting jaehyun. he really is horrible at dodging things - how shameful. “what the hell was that for?” he splutters, picking it up from the floor.

you turn to face him, eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. “you watched me make an utter fool out of myself, and you didn’t once try to do anything about it?” you hiss.

jaehyun frowns in confusion until doyoung dangles his phone in front of his face. when he watches the video, his face eventually contorts to one of amusement. “oh, that.”

your face is red with embarrassment. “yeah, that! like seriously? where is your loyalty? do you not care about my well being? you know how vicious these monsters can be!” you whine, gesturing at the said nine monsters behind you.

he nonchalantly shrugs, though you can see the corners of his lips threatening to curl into a smirk. “i do, but you were just too cute, seeing you all flustered. what about my own well being, huh? seeing you like that isn’t good for my heart,” he coos.

your heart leaps, but you mask it by smothering his face with a pillow. “you’re the worst,” you grumble.

“you act like you don’t like it, but i know you do~” he retaliates, albeit muffled from the pillow.

behind you two stands nine other boys, obviously unimpressed. watching you two engage in petty banter is always amusing, but not when it makes you flustered and encourages jaehyun to flirt with you like the cheesy, lovesick fool he is. “they’re so gross,” donghyuck gags.

johnny nods in agreement. “let’s get out of here before they start fucking on the counter.”

at johnny’s comment, you turn away from jaehyun so fast you swear you hear your neck crack. “do you have no filter?!” you shriek, exasperated.

with your guard down, jaehyun takes this as a chance to wrap his arms around your waist. a noise of surprise leaves your throat as he places his chin on your shoulder. “you’re so mean, (name). i liked the shy you a lot better~” he hums.

the other boys don’t even blink. “we’re going to leave now before things get bloody. good luck, (name),” taeyong says, saluting you.

jaehyun’s already tugging at the hem of your shirt and peppering your neck with kisses by the time the boys leave.

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #kpop #nct x reader #nct x male reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x male reader #jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x male reader #renjuseyo : nct #renjuseyo : fics

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weasleyswizardpleases · 4 years ago

Text

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied.

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in.

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly.

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes.

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George.

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George.

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape.

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is.

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel.

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it.

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her.

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins.

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say.

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings.

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George.

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly.

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs.

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter.

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom.

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.”

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet.

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all.

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring.

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies.

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement.

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop.

“Alright Harry, your turn.”

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry.

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity.

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?”

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.”

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously.

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that.

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!”

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks.

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny.

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break.

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?”

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully.

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore.

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest.

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body.

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep.

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

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ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Ven’s Idea Outline #1 (Maribat)

Remember that MariDamiJon fic that I mentioned I was going to do for the gift exchange? It’s still bouncing around in my head and Luka decided to join in so I’ve decided to at least make an outline in (assuredly vain) hopes that it will leave me alone for a bit.

Ao3

Part 1

Typical Daminette but Hanahaki style bc I can’t find any Maribat hanahaki fics and I need one and I can’t find any.

Dick and Damian sent to scope out Paris for Hawkmoth related reasons

Jon goes with bc he’s Damian’s emotional support kryptonian but he might arrive later This idea has been removed but I like it so I will share it.

Damian is getting familiar with the new battlegrounds taking a walk in the park when a girl falls from a tree and lands on top of him

The girl apologizes profusely before explaining that she’s really clumsy and she was just trying to help a kitten stuck in the tree

It’s not love at first sight but Damian appreciates an animal lover and is slightly less of an ass than he would usually be

Might mix this with my Blossom Soulmate AU that I never got around to finishing and posting, now that I think about it

Anyway, Damian helps her get the cat down from the tree

He latches onto this potential information source who is not as annoying as most other people and sticks with her

They become friends friendly acquaintances and he drops by her school to pick up her up after she agreed to show him around Paris.

Debating Lila salt...

Debating Class salt...

If yes: Damian walks into a scene where Marinette and sweeps Marinette away without a word to the rest of her class

If no: Damian arrives and proceeds to wait for her outside by his motorcycle

Either way, his appearance makes waves in Dupont’s rumor mills

They do not know he’s Damian Wayne, just that there’s a dude who attractive enough to be model with a motorcycle waiting for the schools (tragic, if salt) sunshine fashion princess.

Robin and Nightwing meet up with Ladybug and Chat Noir to offer their help in figuring out who Hawkmoth is, as well as fighting and training.

Full Miraculous court meeting with Ryuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, Pegasus, Bunnyx, and Monkey king. (Rena Rouge is removed if Class salt. Replaced with Fox!Nath or Fox!Julieka)

Ladybug and Robin get along

About two weeks in Adrien starts officially dating Kagami.

Another week passes and Damian finds out Marinette has been coughing flower petals and her unrequited love is her classmate Adrien Agreste.

She refuses to remove the hanahaki - this version is the standard they can’t fall in love ever again if they remove it.

This revelation makes him oddly uneasy, it isn’t until his own Hanahaki shows up later that night that realizes he understands why.

Damian does a pretty good job of hiding it.

Dick knows something is up but he’s trying to give Damian more space so he doesn’t look into it and trusts Damian would ask him if it’s life threatening

Ladybug notices his discomfort on patrol and they talk

He is surprised to learn Ladybug also has it and Robin comes up with the brilliant idea that they should fall in love with each other.

There is precedent that if you fall out of love with the person, the Hanahaki will go away. But falling out of love is difficult and not easily done. There must be no lingering romantic feelings at all.

Ladybug encourages Robin to chase his crush first, because he at least has a chance if the girl he likes also has it.

Cue the debates

If Ladybug wins: Enter Damian going all out in flirty assassin seduction techniques from his mother - Good Talia that kills rapists, none of that she raped Bruce bs, she actually had a good relationship with Bruce and a mutual breakup because of differing views on killing people - that he’s barely used since his lessons on it in the league and romantic advice from Dick.

He goes full on Bitch-sensei from assassination classroom.

He’s commissioned a shirt from Marinette. She gets to design it however she wants.

It is a long sleeved button up, specifically made to accentuate his muscles without being too revealing.

That’s the shirt he wears when he asks her out with flowers and a stuffed kitten holding a stuffed wood board that says “please date me” He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. Collar and hair ruffled up for maximum sensuality. He’s got a lot of references between all the people he knows (Bruce, Talia, Selina, Dick, and really his whole family is full of objectively attractive, seductive people he can reference. Just as long as he avoids mimicking their failing romantic habits, he should be fine.)

He tries to be suave about it but is a little too nervous to completely pull it off. It doesn’t matter because Marinette finds it endearing.

On the date, he’s more confident and is able to pull off suave bastard much better but only at the end. He’s a gentleman until the very end, when he leaves her in the bakery

He goes in, and twirls her admittedly short hair around his finger, maintaining eye contact as he presses his lips against her hair - it’s admittedly harder than he expected given how short it is but being so close made it more intimate and the blush on her face was definitely worth it

He leaves in the bakery slightly dazed and counts the date as a success.

Marinette’s mind shut down bc damn that boy is fine and smooth af is flustered and confused as heck but she’s willing to give him a shot

Alternatively: Marinette’s not sure about dating Damian because she feels like she’s just using him to get rid of her hanahaki bc of the idea that Robin had proposed.

Dick is ecstatic that Damian was acting weird because he had a crush and loved helping his brother out with this date planning in the city of love

He doesn’t report it back to the batfam yet because they had a small argument about it and Damian pulled away with the small victory of Dick has to wait until after the first date to tell them.

Damian is glad he Marinette’s willing to give him a chance but he’s worried about Ladybug

he wonders if he should set her up with Tim or Duke, it’d be a shame to lose a friend and hero like her.

Robin brings up his success to Ladybug and asks if there’s anything he can do to help her.

She notes that a friend had actually confessed to her and she’s giving them a chance.

They accidentally compare notes on their dates and that’s their reveal.

If Robin wins: An awkward start that smooths into moonlit dates on the Eiffel tower, dancing on rooftops, an increase in flirting but only after battles, never before it bc they have a professional reputation to keep, increasingly physical training routines, stolen kisses but not on lips until they’re more comfortable with each other.

Fast tracked mutual slow burn which kinda defeats the purpose of a slow burn but whatever

I have realized these ideas are not mutually exclusive.

Maybe Ladybug wins first but Damian fails to seduce Marinette because she has the doubts so they go with plan B and date each other. Ladybug is more comfortable with the idea of dating Robin because they both have Hanahaki and are knowingly using each other to get rid of it?

There is no identity reveal in this version

Complaint Break time: I was writing this to get it out but it keeps growing, wtf. This is so long and I haven’t even gotten to the main part.

It was supposed to be an established Daminette but I wanted to show how they got together, this was supposed to be like 5 bullet points, 10 tops.

At some point, I’m going to have to mention the rumor that people with Hanahaki are being kidnapped because the flowers that bloom after their death make great medicine but that cures most illnesses and are good potions ingredient whatever, something along those lines. It’s not the ones they cough up but the flowers that grow on the vines constricting their lungs after until they die and only blossom after death. Those flowers that spread the pollen into the air that makes the Hanahaki disease possible.

That’s why people keep it a secret unless they’re going to get the surgery as there’s not other way to treat it.

But that’s a plot point for part 2.

I feel like this is already longer than anything I’ve put out at this point in time.

Back to the story:

Even though they’re dating, the Hanahaki doesn’t go away immediately. It slows and becomes less frequent but there are times when they think of how their love doesn’t return their feelings and the flowers come back with a vengeance and they’re down for the day, possibly the entire week, hacking up flower petals and buds.

(Ladybug Wins version until otherwise stated) It’s during one of these fits that Dick finds out and is angry at this girl playing with his brother’s feelings.

Damian is too busy hacking up bloody flower petals to correct him

The entire batfam and subsequently Superfam now know the batfam’s youngest has hanahaki

Jon is called in and flies in to help keep an eye on his best friend

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Duke are shocked but they pack up and are ready to go in guns blazing to have a talk with this girl bc the boys might not be on the best terms but that’s their baby brother. The girls stay behind to hold down the fort (because I need more time to get familiar with them before I can confidently write their characters. I’m not too confident about Duke either but I already mentioned him and it’s too late to back out now.)

So, Damian’s brothers and his father track her down to a different park in Paris where Marinette’s hanging out with her friends

They’re incised to find their brother’s girlfriend with another guy’s arm around her, leading her away from the main group of friends

It’s Luka, he’s helping her hide her hanahaki because she assures him that she has it under control and will go with him to the hospital if it becomes too much

They confront the couple

There’s a lot of intimidating posturing and accusations

Batfam is absolutely not prepared for the bloody flowers that spill from her lips - her hanahaki is even worse than Damian’s

Detective bats (correctly or incorrectly, depending on which version happens) put the pieces together and figure they’re dating to get rid of the hanahaki, that is something Damian would absolutely propose

and oh shit, this time it’s not just Bruce that’s adopting someone. They have a little sister now.

Luka explains what he knows about the situation and basically confirms what they’d deduced.

Welp, since they’re here, Hawkmoth has become top priority.

Hawkmoth takes one look at the Miraculous circle and the new set of bats and just- nopes out plus super boy and just nopes out.

Like, he tries but he has no expectation of winning and tries to run instead. It doesn’t work, they have all grounds covered.

I should probably make use of Mayura if I ever do write everything out but she didn’t really leave much of an impression on me tbh and I don’t have a lot of ideas. Maybe if I ever go back and watch it.

Celebratory, on-the-spot kiss between Robin and Ladybug where they do “oh“ and realize the pressure in their chest is finally gone and the Hanahaki is no more.

(Robin Wins) Dick is obliviously happy about little Robin leaving the nest and finding a mate until he finds out both the little heroes coughing up flower petals on their date

then he goes in and mother hens them both, before demanding answers

He’s also less happy about this whole dating thing

Dick can’t do much about Ladybug without revealing her identity but Damian isn’t getting out of it so easily

Dick figures out who Damian’s crushing on and goes to do a little investigating. He is very surprised to see it’s a bubbly, energetic designer girl and not someone... calmer. But then he thinks of Jon and it makes a little more sense

He talks to her, asks about what she thinks of Damian and is pleasantly surprised by her positive view of his brother. He asks if she would go out with him and she coughs up some petals

Now, Dick’s freaking out and why are there so many children with Hanahaki? This is the third one in two days!

fast forward because I’m finally out of ideas for this part

Ladybug knows she’s fallen for Robin, which was the entire point of them dating but she not sure he actually reciprocates or is still trying to forget that other girl.

Or if you went the other way, Robin’s still chasing Marinette but Ladybug now likes Robin and is aware that he’s trying to woo her. So, out of the frying pan and into another for her.

Robin is absolutely having regrets bc he is an emotional wreck and crushing on two girls and this was not supposed to happen, damnit.

A meta gets akumatized and takes out half the miraculous court but turns out the meta’s psychic ability can help track Hawkmoth so its all cool, now that they know what Hawkmoth feels like

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuko, and Robin vs Hawkmoth and Mayura

Nightwing stayed behind to watch the other heroes are no longer brain dead from the battle but boy are they out of it and he has to make sure they get home safe

that does not mean he’s not extremely put out and worried about it since he knows half the team has hanahaki and it may interfere with the fight

Even if the Ladybug suit lessens the hanahaki attacks, they still happen from time to time

For two people who don’t show up to fight often Hawkmoth and Mayura put up a good fight

Ladybug has an hanahaki attack and Hawkmoth tried to take advantage of it, only to get knocked out by Chat Noir who’s still pissed at his dad for causing this whole thing

Chat Noir and Ryuko are pretty shocked Ladybug has hanahaki, even more her timer runs out and she choses to present it to Robin

Robin is shook

He gets it together and pulls her into a kiss that cures their hanahaki and makes their brains melt

Now Marinette’s kinda confused bc what the other girl

Damian, slightly shifting his mask so she can see who he is: That other girl was YOU

Now Marinette’s the one who’s shook

Note: Chat Noir and Ryuko have both de-transformed at this point and are watching with wide eyes but they do not see who is under that mask. Also, no cameras in this section of the manor bc that would be proof.

They have a lot to talk about but it works out in the end.

the outline above was written out of order bc I had to go back everytime a new idea hit and I cannot be bothered to go back and dodeca-check this thing again just to make sure everything makes sense.

Part 2 (that was supposed to be the main story- finally made it, the starting point. I cry.)

Ok, so, now that Daminette is established and the evil is defeated

Damian returns to Gotham with his girlfriend in tow to introduce her to the rest of his family, despite his better judgement

Jon is happy that Damian is in happy, loving relationship but he’s a bit sad that it’s not him and oop, sunshine kryptonian boy got hanahaki’d.

Same for Luka. (Yes, Jagged will be his dad and a Gothamite.)

Jagged and his kids join them in Gotham bc he has to be there to show his favorite designer niece around to all the best places of his hometown.

Luka finds out Jon has Hanahaki and they bond over the experience

They make a pact to cover each other and get the other to the hospital when it gets to that point

Pining/Simping meetings over their best friends that for some unknown reason seem to lessen the flower coughing over time even though these meetings probably make things worse but they also need vent before it increases again.

Luka and Jon beginning to fall for each other but they think the other is still in love with Marinette/Damian and it’s true that they still hold feelings for their best friends that aren’t diminishing in the sleightest and it’s all very confusing.

It’s even more confusing when we add the new hero in Gotham, Viperion who’s there to continue training with the bats since he’s visiting the area, rescues and lightly flirts with Jon who ended up developing a small crush and Jon realizes he has a type.

So, poor Jon’s now crushing on Damian, Luka, and Viperion

Viperion meets Superboy and the kryptonian doesn’t seem to like him?

Luka’s crushing on Marinette, Jon - still doesn’t know that Damian is Robin. And is kinda curious and a little hurt that the Robin’s oddly familiar kryptonian is actively and obviously avoiding him and that heart song is kind of familiar but different.

Viperion also gains a crush on Robin after watching him take down a thug in a very graceful way - the bird was showing off for his bug and decided to make it a little showier, he accidentally also caught a snake

Ladybug and Robin still flirt but the court - aside from Ryuko and Chat, depending on which version - think that’s just their dynamic, though they do pull Robin aside for a bit to tell him she has a boyfriend now. He assured them it’s fine and he knows, oddly amused at their attempt.

man, I am not original with this identity porn thing

It isn’t until Luka sees Jon again that he puts it together.

Marinette suspiciously notes Luka and Jon been hanging out an awful lot she’s making connections to the time she had hanahaki and Luka covered for her

The pains of befriending deductive genii.

Cue the panic and they accidentally claim they’re dating but it throws Marinette off for now, so it kinda worked?

Hanahaki fic with a fake dating AU. Oops.

Mari decides since she and Damian don’t know this, they must have been neglecting their best friends and double dates are the way to go.

Cue more panic

Unlike Marinette who is willing to trust their word, Damian’s a suspicious bastard who’s kind of dubious and a little salty that Jon didn’t tell him earlier if they’re telling the truth but Mari’s all gung ho about it so he lets it go for now

They go on the date and it is an emotional mess for everyone involved

It starts out fine

Jon and Luka act a bit weird because they have to cover for each other randomly coughing up petals, not to mention they’re on a date with their original crushes without actually dating their original crushes not even mentioning their new crushes and the secret identity reveal that Luka still hasn’t confronted Jon on and Jon’s guiltily thinking about Viperion half the time he thinks about Luka and shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Yeah, so they’re a mess

Damian’s watching them like he’s trying to figure them out and it is not helping but thank god Mari’s distracting him totally on accident

Marinette? She found a random lost kid in Gotham looking for their parents

So now the double date’s been temporarily derailed to help the lost kid

While Damian’s watching Marinette try pass the crying kid off to Jon for a moment so she can make a phone call to report a lost child but the kid’s clinging onto Marinette, and they exchange looks so Jon calls in the lost kid instead and he’s just struck with the idea of a family with the three of them and some kids

Cue panic time (again)

Ignoring the thought of children, why was Jon in his fantasy?

Luka’s just watching a smitten boy go into panic mode over the trio and while doesn’t quite know what’s going on in Damian’s head, but that was really cute and oh not again

They find the kid’s parents, and the date moves on

Jon’s more comfortable, Marinette wasn’t really bothered in the first place. Luka and Damian are now having crises

Luka makes a joke under his breath in an attempt to calm down before his Hanahaki acts up

It did not help bc Damian overhears and gives a small amused snort that made his heart stutter but hey positive interaction!

Both Marinette and Jon but end up having feelings very similar to the one Damian had earlier when they look over at Damian and Luka’s little interaction - Damian’s giving Luka a small smirk and Luka is entirely embarassed at being heard when he wasn’t hadn’t meant to be.

But then Luka gives Jon a small sign before he excuses himself to the restroom so Luka can run off and cough up his flower petals

You remember that whole thing about the kidnapping people with hanahaki so they die and medicine and things can be collected from the flowers springing up from their corpse thing? Yeah, the kids are in Gotham and there is definitely a group there that has dealings with the trade and someone saw Luka hacking up flowers

but they mark him and pull back to plan instead of kidnapping him then and there bc drama and Jon followed him to the restroom to check on him

Date ends ok and everyone’s kind of an emotional wreck

Damian has surprisingly learned his lesson on miscommunication and guiltily confides his fantasy to her like a parishioner to his priest

Marinette basically goes same and confesses about the moment she and Jon saw his interaction with Luka.

“So, We’re together, and they’re together...and I might be in love with Jon, you think you might be in love with Luka... What now?“ Damian asked, trying to make sense of it all

“We could...” Marinette swallows, “um, all four of us? together?“ she offered meekly. Seeing that Damian seemed to like the idea, she continued. “Y’know, feel out how receptive they are to the idea and then just seduce them?”

Ok, so the temporary communication skills were nice.

Because instead of talking it out with their best friends, they decide to seduce them but to be fair, there’s at least one version of this where Damian got where he did because of seduction.

Between both Damian and Marinette’s phsyical attractiveness, their combined determination and stubbornness, Damian’s assassin seduction knowledge, and Marinette’s fashion ability and tactical knowledge of where to accentuate what, Jon and Luka have no chance of leaving pining hell for the foreseeable future.

Marinette doubles down on the “double dates” aka, seduction plans in action and group hang outs, aka much more softer, subtle seduction plans

Marinette and Damian do not do much seeing how receptive they are and really just jump right into the seduction, except they adjust the plans so Luka and Jon don’t catch on so Daminette couple thinks it’s ok to go all out.

Cue seduction and pining hijinks, and a whole lot of bloodly flowers and plenty of internal screaming

Damian learns that Luka might not be too bad in the group and Jon is panicking because oh shit he’s got another crush and it’s his best friend’s girlfriend.

the quartet’s love issues are really full circle... or whatever this shape is supposed to be. Because there’s still the whole Viperion/superboy thing and - i just... I’m not going to keep analyzing this.

Somewhere during this, Jon confesses his feelings this particular friend group to Con, leaving out the whole Hanahaki thing. Con tells Tim for advice on being a big brother and things happen but I’m not sure what. I just want TimCon and the Superboys bonding

So a couple weeks pass by the Hanahaki’s getting pretty bad and Luka suddenly goes missing

Ladybug and the bats are on it as soon as they realize he’s gone

Except they are missing one, very important piece of information

Luka’s hanahaki

So, for the next few days, they don’t get anywhere until Jon slips up and ends up coughing up a shitton of bloody flowers which leads to panic, confusion and explanation, bc wtf Jon, you’re supposed to be dating Luka and that’s definitely not unrequited

So everyone gets the full explanation, the final piece of the puzzle snaps into place and the bats are on it.

Marinette and Damian have to put aside that whole revelation in order to track and save Luka before he dies of Hanahaki

They both make sure to kiss Jon first so he doesn’t get handicapped by his hanahaki like Ladybug did but he and Luka will be on thin ice once they get Luka back

So it’s pretty much a race against time bc they don’t know how bad Luka’s hanahaki is

Tracking, beat up bad guys, possible magic related villain(s) searching for potion ingredients that may take harm Superboy more than than if they weren’t there

They rescue Luka or Luka and Ssass break out as Viperion and meet them halfway.

Hey, the identity reveals!

Either way, at the end of it, Luka ends up with Ladybug and the unconscious and they have to wait until he wakes up to administer the kiss/cure bc it doesn’t work if one party is unconscious

which sparks an interesting idea of a sleeping beauty-cinderella style hanahaki fic where it would work if they’re unconscious, and the patient has to find go out to find who cured them and I’ll have to adjust some other rules of the hanahaki disease such as who can cure it but goddamn it

So while Luka’s out, Marinette and Damian confront the possibly injured but very much awake Jon

Once Luka wakes up and is brought up to speed, they take care of his hanahaki and work out the new boundaries of their new relationship

Part one is longer and I’m a bit put out by that. This made much more sense in my head but if you got this far, my rambling must have made some sort of sense.

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darlingsdevil · 5 years ago

Text

Of The Valley (Joel x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Autumn Days

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

Of The Valley Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added or removed): @fangirl-inthe-us @sidepuff

A/N: This fic will follow pre revenge plot TLOU 2. It will follow the flashbacks and such, up until the day after the dance, then it will sprout out differently. I don’t recommend reading this until you have finished the game.

Welcome to my Fanfixtion. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here!

•••

The sun rose slowly above the eastern mountains, streams of sunlight pouring into the old windows. The bustling of mid morning Jackson was loud outside, even louder in the crowded restaurant. You kept up with the never ending pile of orders though.

You waded through the chattering crowd, holding dirty plates close to you, you placed them on the back counter and returned to your post by the front of the bar.

“Maria,” You called out cheerfully as the older woman sat down at the bar. She responded with a smile.

“I’ll take an order of scrambled eggs and bacon. Side of toast will do just fine too.”

“Bacons in high demand right now. I can only give you a few pieces,” You replied, writing down the order on a piece of paper.

“As long as it’s bacon, I don’t care if I get one piece or five.”

“Anything to drink with that?”

“Nope. Unless by any chance you’ve got coffee, then I’ll have to buy a cup for me and for Joel.”

“No coffee yet. The trader’s from the south aren’t due for a couple more months, I thought? I’ll be first in line to get those beans when they do come through though,” You said, backing away from the bar to place the receipt on the far counter.

“You might have to fight Joel for that spot, you know,” Maria chuckled.

“On second thought, I’ll be second in line, I do know he loves his coffee. Almost as much as you love bacon.”

“That’s probably true,” Maria responded with a shrug.

You went back to taking orders and bringing out food to customers, chatting with your friends here and there. When Maria’s order came out, you brought it over to her quickly. Breakfast sounded amazing right now, you would definitely order some food once your shift ended. At least the crowd had died down, only a few stragglers were left in the restaurant.

“Here you are. Scrambled eggs and bacon. With some toast,” You said, placing the two plates in front of her.

“Thank you.” Maria grabbed a fork and dug in. There were no more orders coming out from the back, so you took this time to rest. You grabbed a rag and began wiping down the bar. Maria glanced over at you briefly, like she was looking to say something.

“Penny for your thoughts, Maria?”

Maria sighed and set down her fork.

“I need a favor.”

“What type of favor?” You tried your hardest not to sound suspicious. When Maria needed a favor from you, it usually wasn’t good.

“It’s a small one. Nothing too bad,” She said slowly.

“Okay,” You blinked, setting down your rag.

“I need you to go on patrol today.”

“Nope,” You said dismissively.

“Come on, do it for me? You’re our best shooter next to Tommy. There’s a large group of infected near the north that can easily be picked off by two snipers. Tommy’s already up there waiting.”

“I told you I’m not going on anymore patrols.”

“I know, but please, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

“I’m not going, Maria. I can’t go.” You shook your head.

“Look, I know why you don’t want to go out, I do, but I really need you to. No one else can do the job as well as you.” It was true. You were Jackson’s best shot next to Tommy. You owed Maria more than a couple favors, it seemed she was cashing in now.

“I’m not going there alone.. I can’t go alone,” You repeated.

“You won’t be alone. I’m having Jesse escort you there. We need you,” Maria negotiated.

“You’re having a kid escort me?”

“Look, Jesse’s more than capable. Just because he’s 17 doesn’t mean he can’t take you up there,” Maria said.

“Will Jesse stay?”

“No. He’s going to meet up with Eugene after to finish patrolling a route,” Maria told you, finally picking up her fork. The second waitress arrived which meant you were off for the rest of the day. It pulled you away from your thoughts. You had been working since three in the morning, helping the restaurant get ready since they opened at four. It was seven now.

“I need someone to stay with me other than Tommy. Someone, someone I trust well,” You replied, your head swimming in what ifs.

Maria sighed, staring down at her food.

“I can ask Joel if he could. He won’t be happy, it’s his first day off in awhile. But just this once I will, okay?” Maria asked you. You breathed out a sigh of relief. You couldn’t say no to Maria. You owed her too much. Even if you tried your hardest to get out of it, it would never work. At least you would be going with someone you trusted. Of course.. you hadn’t seen or talked to Joel in awhile though. Hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward.

“I haven’t been out in a long time, you know, I probably won’t be the best shot,” You told Maria.

“You’re going on the damn patrol,” Maria glared at you with humor. It was worth a shot.

•••

Joel met up with you an hour later near the stables. He didn’t look happy. Your stomach was doing somersaults thinking about going back out there. You weren’t just nervous, you were terrified.

“I’m sorry I made you come out here to escort me. It’s a stupid job, I know,” You said to him while you were retrieving the horses. You surrendered your horse back to the stables after you left the patrol job, you would rather have someone else take her out then have her stuck in the stables for eternity. Luckily though, she was in for the day.

“Yeah,” Joel grumbled. It stung a little, but you would be angry too having to go out on an escort when it was your first day off in awhile.

You looked down at your feet, the wet mud covering your worn leather boots. “I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t want to do this either.” You said, sounding defeated.

Joel didn’t respond, instead he went off to retrieve his own horse. The stable worker brought you Levia, her dark coat shimmering in the morning sun.

“It’s been awhile since she’s seen you. How long has it been, three or four months?” The stable worker asked, handing you the reins.

You shrugged. “Three months,” You laughed nervously. The worker didn’t know anything of course, no one did.

“Been that long, huh? I think Levia missed you,” The worker said, patting Levia’s side.

“I missed her too.” You gently pulled on the reins and muttered a thanks to the worker. You took Levia outside to the chilly, late autumn air. While you waited for Joel, you gently petted Levia, she neighed softly, you could tell she missed you. You missed her too. You wondered if her new owner was treating her as well. Levia was spoiled with you.

Joel came out of the stables with his own horse, Caesar. Caesar was a stallion with a dark brown coat with white markings near the top of his head. Levia’s coat was completely black.

“I missed you, girl,” You muttered to the horse. Joel led Caesar towards you.

“You ready to go?” He asked.

“I need to log out a couple guns from the armory first. Been a while since I’ve been around here, they change anything for procedures?” You asked, heading towards the armory. Levia and Caesar’s hooves clicked behind you against the mud. Joel walked beside you, standing further away from you then he usually did.

“Not that I know of. It’s not changed since you’ve been out.” Jackson was always changing procedures for how to check things out, especially near the gates.

“That’s good. They might not even recognize me up here,” You joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Joel just shook his head. “Don’t think they would have forgotten you, it’s only been three months.”

“I’m not coming back after this, they probably will,” You said, walking up to the table set up for guns.

Joel began to say something, but you cut him off by talking to the man at the table.

“Two rifles please. One with a scope,” You asked.

“Sure thing,” The man responded, getting up to fetch the two guns.

“You’re not coming back?” Joel questioned behind you. You could practically feel the confusion from him.

“No, I’m not coming back. Already been reassigned to the bar. You haven’t been there in awhile, have you?” You said quickly, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Joel dismissed your question, “Maria told me you were just taking a break?”

“I never said I was taking a break. I’m done with patrolling, Joel.” You turned to face him. Joel looked angry, lied to. You never lied, you simply avoided him for three months.

“You know you could have told me that instead of avoiding me for three months pretending like you were coming back?” Joel glared at you.

“When the hell did I say I was coming back?” You hurled right back, crossing your arms in a defiant stance. This was not how you wanted your morning to go.

“Excuse me, miss, here are the guns,” The man cleared his throat behind you. You swiveled around and took the guns from his hands.

“Thank you. Put our names down for -” You began but were quickly cut off.

“Already done. You guys be safe out there, okay?” The man nodded to you.

“Sure thing. Thanks for the guns.” You hadn’t been forgotten it seemed, at least not yet.

Not wanting to cause any more of a scene, you left quickly, heading towards the gate. You felt bad thinking you had been leading Joel on by letting him think that you were coming back, but truth be told, you never said anything to him. It all got back to him through rumors, rumors ran rampant in Jackson, always had and always will. Which is why you kept your secrets under closed lips, the only one who knew of most of them being Maria.

The gates were opened for you and Joel, and as you stepped out of Jackson a wave of nausea immediately hit, a deep sinking feeling like you weren’t meant to be out there. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm your racing nerves. It was hard to, especially with Joel breathing down your neck. Luckily, he didn’t notice, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

You pulled yourself up onto Levia’s saddle. It felt foreign to be back on a horse. You gently squeezed her side with your feet to tell her it was time to go. Levia was a well trained horse, and immediately started into a slow gallop. Caesar and Joel following behind you.

Levia followed where you lead here, through the dirt paths for a couple minutes until Joel finally spoke.

“You know where you’re going?” Joel’s voice was condescending.

“Yeah. Been there a couple times. It’s common for infected to be in that area this time of year. It’s a sniper's nest. Shouldn’t be too far from here actually. Thirty minute ride at very least,” You responded. It wasn’t worth your time to quip back at him.

“You sure you know where it is?” Joel questioned.

“Course I do,” You snapped back. Looks like it was worth your time.

“Been awhile since you’ve been out here, that’s all.”

“Just because I haven’t been outside the walls in awhile doesn’t mean I have forgotten where to go, Joel,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You were beginning to regret asking Maria to assign Joel to escort you to the nest. And if things went south for you, you weren’t sure Joel would back you up, with the way he was acting towards you, you could tell he was pissed.

It was silent for a few moments. Joel taking in what you said earlier about not returning to patrols.

“Why aren’t you returning?” He asked, his tone much lighter this time.

You bit your tongue, “Patrol work just wasn’t fit for me anymore,” You replied plainly.

“You are our best shot.”

“Look Joel, I just didn’t want to be on patrol anymore, simple as that.” You shut his question down. Of course he would have questions. Everyone did.

Joel didn’t believe it for a second, he knew something was up.

“Haven’t seen Mark in a while either. Where is he? Taking a break too?” Joel questioned. You prayed he would stop bothering you.

“Mark? He’s around. Got taken off patrol too,” You said quickly. You held on tightly to Levia’s saddle in hopes to calm your nerves.

“Maybe I should pay him a visit, been awhile since I’ve seen him.”

“He won’t answer. He’s sick right now,” You lied straight through your teeth.

“Sick. Yep. What does he have?”

“Will you stop bothering me, please?” You barked out, letting anger seep through your clenched teeth. You took a glance behind you at Joel. He looked annoyed, if looks could kill, you would already be dead.

“Sure thing, boss,” Joel told you. You rolled your eyes. This was going to be a long trip.

•••

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

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The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 11/11

I can't believe we are at the end of this fic! I am immensely proud of it, and I am so thankful for those who were willing to go on the journey with me to re-imagine Someone to Watch Over Me. I feel like the original was just a germ of an idea, and this event gave me the courage to build an entire world around it. A world similar to canon, yet unique. World building has never been my strength, and this re-write stretched me and helped me grow. In that way, I am so thankful to the ladies in the csrt discord chat, especially @optomisticgirl who stepped in as one of my last minute betas. B, you are the queen of world-building, and you have no idea how many times you helped me in chats to work out my own world in this story! Character development was also a big challenge in this fic, and for that I thank @shippingtheswann, my other beta. Emma and Killian's relationship wouldn't be as rich if not for you! And thank you to @distant-rose for helping me with the Lost Boys, the pirate crew, and the Neverland mythos. (If you ever need any info on pirates and ships, she's your girl!) I was nervous to take the story into some dark places, but you cheered me on and helped me trust my instincts. And of course, tons of thanks to the mods of this event at @captainswanbigbang. I was contemplating abandoning this fic until I saw you were organizing this, so massive kudos for putting this on!

One final thing, and I'll shut up and get to the actual chapter. My original vision for this fic was to take it where people had been begging me to - with Emma reuniting with her parents and the fall out from that - yet with my own version of the Enchanted Forest and the curse. However, as I worked on the story, I realized I had bitten off way too much. Therefore, I decided to split up the story. Sooo, this isn't the end! There will be a part two, which I am already working on. I will not be posting it until it is complete. It is shorter than this story, however, so hopefully the wait won't be too long!

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape (all in previous chapters - this last chapter is mostly fluff)

Words: 6k and some change in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma and Killian: Age 24

When Emma was a little girl, she had found a book of fairy tale stories at the school library. Inside was a picture of a little cottage by the sea made of a hodgepodge of stones and a thatched roof, and rolling all around it were hills of soft grass. She can no longer remember what story the illustration accompanied, but she does remember how often she would stare at that picture, thinking how cozy the family must have been who lived in that house. She checked the book out every chance she got, and when she was moved yet again to a new foster family and a new school, she had committed a grievous sin: she had ripped the picture out of the library book.

Well, it had felt like a grievous sin to her seven year old self. Especially when the sweet librarian, Miss Stacy, had reminded them gently on numerous occasions of the proper way to treat the books. Ripping pages was definitely not the proper way.

Somewhere along the line, she had lost that ripped page. Yet here, below her now, nestled in the dip of the hills and facing the sea along the shores of Avalon, is that dream house of her childhood.

“Killian,” is all she can manage to say.

“Do you like it?” he asks, dipping his chin and scratching behind his ear. How can he be nervous giving her such a gift? Henry yells in delight and races down the hill towards the cottage.

Finally, she finds her voice again. “Like it? I dreamed of a house like this. When I was a kid.”

“Truly?” he asks incredulously, eyes bright with hope.

“Yes!” she exults, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. She shakes her head as she pulls back, cupping his face with her hands. “But we can’t live here. Won’t you miss the sea?”

“A pirate ship is no place to raise our son, and besides . . . “ he pulls her closer to the quaint home. Once they crest the hill, the land levels out, and the view is breathtaking. “ . . . there’s the sea right at our back door,” he finishes with a wide grin.

“Mama,” Henry cries as he comes flying out the front door, “can I pick out my room? There are three. Cause I want the one upstairs. Can I have the one upstairs?”

Emma laughs at her son’s barrage of questions. Killian reaches down and scoops up the wriggling child.

“Sorry, my boy, but you’re mum gets first choice.” He successfully cuts off the lad’s whines by tickling him. Then he sets Henry down upon his feet and ruffles his hair. “In the meantime, why don’t you pick some flowers for your mother? The field over there is carpeted with them.”

Killian points west away from the sea, and Henry eagerly scampers off. Emma calls after him to be careful.

“Don’t go too far! Make sure you can still see the house!”

“He’ll be fine, Swan,” Killian assures her, pulling her inside the house. “He never fell overboard on the Jolly despite your worrying, now did he?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Haha, that really puts my mind at ease.”

Killian winks at her, then gives her a tour of the first floor, which is bigger than she would have expected. There’s a small foyer, then a formal sitting room to the right and a formal dining room to the left. At the end of the hall is a kitchen that opens up into a family room with a stone fireplace identical to the one in the parlor. Next to the stove in the kitchen is a door that opens out onto a patio with an even better view of the rocky sea below. Between the hallway and the kitchen is another door that leads into the master bedroom. The bed is tucked right beneath the window, and Emma can imagine falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the crashing waves.

“There’s no indoor plumbing like in your realm,” Killian explains as Emma circles the room, her hand skimming over the furnishings, “but there is a stream practically in our backyard, and the kitchen is large enough to put a tub in one corner.”

Emma pauses in her explorations and arches a brow at him. “You think I’m going to complain about a lack of plumbing after six months on the Jolly Roger?”

Killian manages another nervous laugh. “So you like it?”

She steps close to him, resting both of her palms on his chest. “I’m more worried if you’ll like it. You won’t miss the adventures at sea?”

“As I’ve said many times, piracy is ten percent adventure, ninety percent sheer boredom.” He lifts one of her hands and kisses it. “I’m ready for a life with you and Henry. I’m ready for the family I haven’t had since my mother passed.”

Tears well in Emma’s eyes. It’s still hard to believe sometimes that anyone would choose her, put her first. Yet this man isn’t just anyone, is he?

“Besides,” Killian says, thumbing her chin, “the Jolly still belongs to us.”

“But are you really satisfied turning her into a merchant ship? Is your crew?”

He draws her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Mason has always wanted to go to the naval academy, and with a year or two on a respectable merchant ship, he can. Hawkins wants to go to university, and Curly is looking at a plot of land to purchase and farm. Starkey has a sweetheart in Camelot, though he’s tried to hide it. As captain of my vessel, he can now ask for her hand. They’ve all grown up, Swan, and they have dreams and plans of their own.”

“And they’re loyal to their first captain,” Emma amends with a smile.

“I don’t know why.”

“I do,” she tells him, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “Are you sure you won’t get bored doing ledgers, placing orders, or whatever else merchants do?”

Killian shakes his head and bops her nose. “Quit doubting me, love! Besides,” he leans closer and stage whispers in her ear, “don’t tell anyone this, but I rather enjoy keeping the ledgers.”

Emma finds the nerd beneath his swashbuckling swagger incredibly sexy for some reason. “Well then,” she teases, stepping away from him to saunter over to the large bed. She grasps one of the bedposts and drapes herself around it in what she hopes is a sexy maneuver. “In that case, Mister Jones, maybe we should christen this bed.”

Killian growls and pounces, yanking her close and claiming her lips hungrily. Emma’s just dropped to the bed with a giggle when Henry comes pounding inside.

“Watcha doin?”

Emma almost falls to the floor in her haste to push Killian off her and jump to her feet. “Um, Papa’s just . . . tickling me.”

Killian chokes as he tries to hold back a laugh, but Henry is oblivious. Their son sticks out his hand, and clenched in his fist are a bunch of small yellow flowers.

“Oh, well, I did what Papa said and got you some flowers, Mama!”

“Buttercups!” Emma can’t help the tears that spill down her cheeks. “Thank you Henry!”

She picks up her son as Killian steps closer. He embraces both of them, brushing kisses to the tops of their heads.

“Welcome home, my loves,” he tells them.

******************************

After removing his boots by the door, Killian tiptoes through the cottage, the light of the full moon helping him avoid the furniture, Henry’s toys, and Emma’s shoes which she always leaves wherever she happens to kick them off. When he gets to the kitchen, he’s able to light a lamp so he can find the supper that Emma promised to leave on the stove. The Jolly was late coming into port, and going through the inventory took much longer than he had anticipated. Luckily, Emma is used by now to that most unpredictable of mistresses: the sea.

“Killian?”

The sound of his name is weak, yet he can still make it out on the other side of their bedroom door. He crosses to the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible. Emma’s curled up on the bed, her hair lit gold by the moon, and she’s so still he thinks maybe he didn’t hear her after all. He wants to reach out and touch her, yet he doesn’t want to wake her.

“Killian? Killian?”

She stirs slightly, but it’s clear she is still half asleep as she mumbles his name.

“Aye love, it’s me.”

“Killian?”

“Yes?” He touches her lightly through the blankets.

She says his name a few more times, like a question, and he can’t help smiling at how disoriented she is. He’s learned over the past year that she does in fact talk in her sleep. She finally seems satisfied that he’s here, and that he’s Killian. Her body relaxes and she mumbles good on a sigh. He pats her gently again and turns to go, but before he can, she reaches out and manages to find his hook in the dark.

“But you’re not leaving?” she asks, still in that sleepy voice.

The question makes his heart swell. “No love, I’m not leaving.”

“Henry’s not leaving?”

He lifts his hook and brushes his lips across her hand, which clings to the metal tightly. “No, Swan.”

She lets out a little shudder and releases his hook. He bends, brushes a kiss to her brow, then turns back to the kitchen.

“Killian, have we done this before?”

The question has him frozen with his hand on the doorknob. He isn’t sure what she means by the question.

“I only just got home, Emma,” he tells her gently.

“Oh,” she murmurs, sleep finally beginning to claim her fully and slurring her words. “I guess I dreamed it, then.”

Killian tiptoes out and slowly closes the door behind him. He chuckles to himself as he sits down at the table with the food Emma had left on the stove. Yet as he takes a bite of the roast on his plate, he sobers. He hates the fears that sometimes plague Emma. He wonders how long it will take for the love in their little home to ease them.

******************************

Killian awakes the next morning to the banging of pots and pans, sometimes punctuated by curses in their small kitchen. He may have had second thoughts about the location of the master bedroom if he had been aware of the fact that Emma was completely incapable of moving about quietly.

“Can I have more strawberries, Mama?” Henry calls out, far louder than necessary, and Killian groans as he shoves the pillow over his head.

“Shhh,” Emma admonishes, in the exact same volume as their son, “you’ll wake up Papa.”

“Why’s he not up? He said he’d bring home more paper for me.”

“You know the ship doesn’t always arrive on time. Now eat.”

Killian flings aside the pillow with a sigh, knowing that getting any more shut eye is impossible. Yet as he buckles his brace and slips into his shirt, he only feels joy well inside his chest. He did get Henry more paper for his scribbles, and he can’t wait to hear what tall tales the lad will weave next. He can’t, at only six, truly write yet, but he feels with fatherly pride that it’s merely a prelude of what is to come.

Once he’s dressed, he grabs the parcels wrapped in brown paper and string that he’d hidden in the nightstand before he went to bed. He tucks them under his hooked arm, then bursts through the bedroom door. “Making an entrance,” as Emma would say.

“Papa!” Henry cries out, tossing aside his fork and jumping up from the kitchen table.

“Killian!” Emma admonishes, turning from the stove with a spatula in her hand. “I was trying to let you sleep.”

“A pointless endeavor, love,” he quips with a wink. Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the stove. Henry leaps onto his back, trying to grab the parcels.

“Whaddya get me, Papa?”

“Well, get off me, you little monkey, and I’ll show you.” Henry slides to the floor, and Killian hands him the largest parcel. “Paper, as requested.”

“Yay! But what’s the other one?”

Killian hands him the small, compact, rectangular package and grins as Henry rips into it. The paper falls away to reveal a leather bound book with beautiful gilt-edged pages and hand painted illustrations in deep hues.

“That, my boy, is a book of tales from Agrabah where the air smells like spices and the sultanese keeps a tiger for a pet!”

“Wow! Will you read it to me right now?”

Killian glances over his shoulder at his wife. “Not until after you eat your breakfast.”

He ruffles Henry’s hair, and the boy obeys. Killian turns to the stove where Emma is purposefully keeping her back to him, though he can’t fathom why. He saunters up behind her and leans over her shoulder, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair.

“Mmm, something smells delicious.”

“It’s just pancakes,” she retorts, but she is unable to hide her smile.

“I wasn’t talking about breakfast,” he growls lower against her skin. He feels her shiver beneath him, but when he tries to grab her around the waist, she dodges him. She grabs the plate of pancakes and carries them to the table.

“Eat them before they get cold,” she says with forced cheerfulness, and he frowns. She sits next to Henry, sliding a pancake onto the boy’s plate, and Killian sits as well.

“I got you something too,” he tells her, sliding a small parcel across the table with his hook.

Emma still refuses to meet his gaze, fiddling with the string around the square package that could fit in the palm of her hand. “You know I never need anything but you.”

“Yet a man likes to spoil his bride. Go ahead, open it.”

She glances up at him from beneath her lashes, then tears into the paper with a tentative smile. It falls away to reveal a small velvet box, and Emma gasps before she’s even lifted the lid. When she does finally open it with trembling fingers, she breathes out his name. Killian slides off his chair and falls to his knees next to her. He pulls the gold ring with its simple jade stone reverently from the velvet and slides it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

“I promised you I would get you a ring the day we wed, remember?”

Emma nods, staring at the gem and turning it in the light.

“I know diamonds are the usual choice, but this immediately made me think of your eyes. Then the gold like your hair . . . “ he trails off worriedly. “Emma?”

She looks up at him finally - and promptly bursts into tears. Killian glances at Henry worriedly.

“Take your breakfast outside on the patio, okay?”

Henry nods and scurries off without argument, his brown eyes wide as he glances at his mother. Killian rubs his wife’s back and whispers soothing words, most of them nonsense. He hands Emma his handkerchief, and she wipes it across her eyes, then blows her nose loudly. She cocks her head at him, and the words out of her mouth are the last ones he expected.

“Did we have a conversation when you came home last night?”

“Um . . . yes, love. You said my name about a hundred times then asked if I was staying.”

Emma nods, twisting his handkerchief in her hands. “I thought so. Did I ask if we’d done this before?”

Killian laughs and rubs her back again. “Yes, you did. I wasn’t sure if you meant last night, our entire marriage, or since we were ten.”

Emma nods, but says nothing. He’s entirely confused. It isn’t like Emma to cry out of nowhere. Or refuse to look at him. Or dodge his touch. He’s beginning to become concerned, truth be told.

“If you don’t like the ring -”

“Of course I like it! It’s perfect!”

“What then?”

“Oh God,” Emma pants, hugging her middle and looking up at the ceiling. “Last night, I dreamed about this conversation. In my dream - my nightmare - you got angry and left.”

Killian’s brow furrows. “I can assure you, Swan, nothing you can tell me would ever make me leave.”

She levels him with a steady gaze. “You used to. Through the wardrobe.” He starts to open his mouth, but she lifts her hand to stop him. “I know it wasn’t intentional, and I’m not blaming you, I just . . . I just . . .”

He grasps her hand firmly in his. “Breathe, love, it’s okay. You just get scared sometimes. It’s okay. So do I.”

“You do?” her voice sounds so small and fragile that it breaks his heart.

“Aye, of course. It has nothing to do with love or trust. The wounds of childhood tend to linger.”

“But I do trust you!” she exclaims.

He draws nearer and cups her cheek. “I know that. That’s my point entirely. The fears are irrational, for both of us. Now, what is it you have to tell -”

He stills when Emma takes his hand and places it on her abdomen. It’s different somehow, and he freezes. He had noticed the last time they made love, but couldn’t quite put his finger on the change. Now he gazes into Emma’s blushing face - how had he not noticed the sudden roundness in her cheeks? The pieces begin to fall into place - her fatigue lately, that illness that seemed to linger far too long . . .

“Emma, are you . . . “

She nods, her eyes welling up with tears again. Her tears - of course! He swallows thickly.

“Emma you’re . . . “

She grins wider, cocking her head saucily. “I’m rather proud that I’ve rendered you speechless. I think the word you’re looking for is pregnant.”

A grin fills his face, a goofy, joyous grin. “Well, I was going to say with child, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you were, my old fashioned sailor who -”

He cuts her off with a passionate kiss, and when it ends, he scoops her up and spins her around with joy.

“Careful there, buddy. The morning sickness is mostly gone, but I make no promises that I won’t puke on you.”

“Wait,” he says, shaking his head, “how long have you known about this?”

“Well,” she hedges, “this realm doesn’t exactly have a stick you can pee on.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs, “Never mind. Let’s just say it took me awhile to figure it out, and then it took me a bit longer to get up the nerve to tell you. I’d say I’m at least twelve weeks along, probably more.”

Killian cups her face with his hand and locks his eyes intently on hers. “Do you honestly believe I would leave you over this?”

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head.

“Can’t you see now how happy this makes me?”

“Well,” she says with a shrug, “you spinning me around the kitchen sort of convinced me, I guess.”

He throws his head back and laughs before kissing her soundly again. But he doesn't do any more spinning.

No sense testing fate.

***************************

“I’m sorry, Captain Jones, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The midwife has the audacity to grab Kilian by the arm and try to forcibly remove him from his own bedroom. On the bed, Emma is crying out as her next contraction hits.

“I’m not leaving,” Killian says firmly.

“It isn’t proper for a man to be present,” the midwife argues, though her words are almost drowned out by Emma’s cries.

“Bullshit,” Emma interrupts the argument, her breaths coming raggedly as her

birthing pains abate for the moment.

“Mrs. Jones, it just isn’t done,” the midwife snaps back, aghast.

“Well it is in the realm I come from,” Emma tells her, “not to mention the whole

impropriety thing is ridiculous. He’s obviously intimately familiar with my vagina.”

The midwife’s eyes grow impossibly large, and Killian can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him.

“Mrs Jones! It isn’t ladylike to -”

“Yeah, well ladylike has never described me anyway.”

The midwife presses her lips together in a disapproving way as she draws closer to the bed. She lowers her voice, but the woman is seventy-three and hard of hearing, so Killian can hear every word.

“I’m aware that your husband isn’t the biological father of your son, so I’m going to assume this is a bit new to you. If your husband sees you in this state, well . . . it may . . . turn him away from you, if you catch my meaning.”

Emma’s face turns a deeper shade of red that has nothing to do with her labor, and her eyes blaze in a way Killian knows well. He grins wider, knowing that his wife is about to render this woman speechless.

“My husband wasn’t complaining about my pussy when he was between my thighs last night, so I think I’m safe.”

Yep, speechless. Killian can’t help winking at the midwife as he saunters past her. The woman looks like she might faint. Killian kneels beside the bed and brushes a kiss to Emma’s forehead. Her face crumples as she clutches desperately at his hand.

“She was trying to make you leave!”

“Nothing could tear me away, love.”

“Oh God!” Emma yells, drawing her knees up as another contraction rolls through her. Emma releases Killian’s hand and grabs onto his hook instead as she groans in pain. This one is stronger than the last, and just as Killian is about to lose his mind because he can’t help her, she collapses against the mattress.

“I didn’t want to break your one good hand,” she tells him with a wane smile.

“I appreciate that,” he quips back with a lopsided grin.

The midwife has pushed the sheets back and is examining Emma. “Well, Mrs. Jones, your contractions are longer and closer together, but the baby isn’t crowning yet. We’ve got a while still.”

Emma whimpers and shakes her head. “It didn’t take this long when Henry came.”

Killian puts his arm around her and whispers that he loves her. She drops her head wearily to his chest, and he kisses her sweaty brow. Another hour goes by the same way, and it feels like time has stopped altogether. Killian feels her labor is unceasing, so he can’t imagine what it must be like for her. Though she’s clearly exhausted, he’s amazed at her strength.

“I see the head!” the midwife finally says excitedly, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “Can you push for me when the next contraction hits, Emma?”

The look on his wife’s face is full of determination as she draws her knees up. He sees her tense when the pain comes again, but she bears down with a scream. She has to do the same thing again, and again, and yet again before the midwife laughs out that the baby’s head is out. The midwife shocks him when she pushes back the sheets further and asks if he wants to see. Killian does, and he blinks back tears when he sees their baby.

“It’s almost over, Emma,” he encourages her.

Emma pushes a few more times, and finally, cries fill the air. Emma laughs even as she collapses in exhaustion. Killian kisses her and murmurs over and over how bloody brilliant she is.

“It’s a girl!” the midwife announces as she rubs the baby down with salt to fend off infection.

“A girl,” Kilian breathes and kisses his wife again.

The midwife then washes the baby off with the water Killian had boiled for her hours ago. The little thing is red, screaming, and oh so tiny, but the midwife is all business as she cleans her up and wraps her in a blanket. The woman only softens when she gently places the baby girl in Emma’s arms.

“Oh Killian, she’s so beautiful,” Emma whispers as she brushes her fingers over the baby’s cheeks.

Killian lays down sideways on the bed next to his wife and gazes in wonder down at the tiny baby. She has a tuft of dark hair on her head, and her skin is damp and feather soft beneath his fingers. She’s ceased her crying, her eyes wide as she gazes up at Emma, as if she recognizes her mother instantly.

“She has your eyes,” Emma whispers with a smile.

“And your chin and nose,” Killian adds.

“And your ears,” Emma says, her thumb tracing over them.

“Poor thing.”

“Hey,” Emma admonishes, tearing her gaze away from the baby, “I love your ears.”

They just gaze down at her for several moments, Killian grinning broadly when the baby’s tiny fingers wrap around his pinkie. A tear slips down his face, and Emma reaches up to wipe it away.

“Do you want to hold her, Papa?”

He can only nod, his emotions overwhelming him. He gathers the bundle into his arms, holding her close to his chest and out of the way of his hook.

“What shall we name her, Swan?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually. I sort of had a feeling she was a girl, and well . . . there’s only one name that seems fitting. A name that I will always associate with love and home.”

“I know exactly what you’re referring to, my love, and I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

There’s a soft knock at the door, and they both turn their heads to see Starkey in the doorway with Henry in tow. Kilian grins.

“Henry, would you like to come meet your baby sister Martha?”

Henry’s eyes are wide as he draws closer to the bed. Emma reaches out and encourages her son to climb up and join them. He settles in next to his mother and leans over to look at the baby.

“She’s pink,” he observes, and they laugh.

“She won’t be forever,” Killian explains, “all babies are that way at first.”

“Even me?”

“Yes,” Emma teases, kissing his cheek, “even you.”

Henry gets bored of the baby fairly quickly and asks if he can go back down to the beach with Starkey. After he leaves, Emma and Killian cuddle together to love on Martha, until she starts to fuss.

“Okay,” the midwife says briskly, “Papa needs to leave so Mama can nurse.”

She let’s Killian stay the minute she sees Emma’s scowl.

Emma and Killian: Age 28

“Papa, again, again!”

Killian laughs as his three-year-old daughter makes futile attempts to move the rocking horse back and forth. “Okay, okay, anything for my cygnet.” He presses his hook down on the horse’s tail, setting it in motion again as his little girl squeals with delight.

Emma laughs too from her chair by the fireplace. “That’s the truth. You know the kids don’t need you to bring gifts every time you’re away.”

“It’s part of the inventory I own, love, I can do what I please with it.”

“You spoil us.”

“Happily.”

He winks at his wife as she settles back into her chair and sips contentedly on her mug of hot chocolate - another gift from his latest shipment. Business is booming with the addition of a second ship. Starkey is still the captain of the Jolly while Nibs has taken the helm of the Jewel II. The Jolly is what sets Killian’s business apart, however. With the pegasus sail, it’s able to bring exotic goods from far away realms that no other merchants can acquire. Though Hawkins, Mason, and Curly all left to pursue their respective dreams, Killian had no trouble replacing them nor acquiring a crew for Captain Nibs. Jones Shipping has developed a reputation for treating their sailors well, and Killian has been able to hire the very best at sea.

The Jones family enjoys frequent trips on the Jolly as well, with renovated accommodations that Killian made specifically to make his family more comfortable. Henry and Martha are just as content at sea as they are on land, though this little cottage of theirs is always a joy to come home to.

Killian continues to rock Martha on her new toy as his gaze lands on Henry, now nine years old. As usual, he wanted more paper and pencils, which he goes through at an alarming pace. His writing is incredibly engaging and complex for a boy his age, and Killian couldn’t be more proud. Henry’s no slouch behind the wheel of the Jolly, either, and can read the stars as well as any of Killian’s crew. No father has ever been more blessed than he.

Their domestic evening scene is disrupted by a knock at the door. Emma frowns as she rises to her feet, setting her mug down on the coffee table.

“Who could that be?”

When Emma opens the door, she lets out a pleasantly surprised gasp to find Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily standing there. Despite Martha’s protests, Killian joins Emma at the door with his little girl balanced on his hip. There’s the typical round of greetings, hugs, and exclamations over how much the children have grown, but Emma and Killian both get the feeling this isn’t just a social visit. Not at this time of day, and not by the looks of those nervous expressions on the fairies’ faces.

“I just brought home cocoa and tea from Agrabah,” Killian tells his old friends. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Tiger Lily says, “tea for me, please.”

“I’ll take some cocoa,” Tink adds, “remember how Wendy used to love it?”

“Yes, she sure did,” Killan says, his mind going back in time to a frightened little girl with leaves in her hair. He hopes wherever she is, that Wendy is happy.

“Um, Henry,” Emma says slowly, “why don’t you take Martha upstairs with her new rocking horse?”

Killian holds his breath for the lad to protest. His baby sister in his room isn’t his favorite thing in the world, but the boy must pick up on the tension radiating off the fairies because he immediately agrees.

“Come on, Martha,” Henry tells her as he hoists up the rocking horse, “I bet I can rock you even faster than Papa.”

Martha squeals in delight and eagerly follows the big brother she idolizes up the stairs. Emma settles in at the kitchen table with the fairies while Killian goes to the stove.

“What’s this all about?”

That’s his wife, direct as always. Tiger Lily sighs and cuts a quick glance over to Tink.

“Emma . . . “ she says slowly.

“We found your parents!” Tink interrupts, practically vibrating with excitement. Tiger Lily rolls her eyes.

“What?” Emm breathes, and Killian abandons the tea pot to rush to her side and take her hand. “Are you sure?”

“Well, lost princesses are more common than you might think,” Tiger Lily says dryly, “but in the case of the lost princess of Misthaven, it all adds up.”

“Adds up to you, Emma,” Tink put in. “The birthmark, the princess’s birthdate, the wardrobe - all of it!”

“Wait,’ Killian interjects, “did you just say wardrobe?”

He’s cut off by the whistling of the teapot, and he goes quickly to retrieve it from the stove.

“I think we need to start from the beginning, Tink,” Tiger Lily says as Killian sets out the tea and cocoa on the table. When he joins the women, he draws his chair as close as he can to his wife so he can put his arm around her and take her hand.

“You may have heard the tales about Snow White, her Prince Charming, and their battles with the Evil Queen,” Tiger Lily begins.

“Snow White and Prince Charming?” Emma asks. “You mean they’re real?”

“Says the woman married to Captain Hook and having tea with Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily,” Killian quips, earning him an eye roll from his wife. She’s told him the version of Neverland in her former realm - a ridiculous version, in his opinion.

“Yes, they’re real, silly,” Tink says with a shake of her blond curls.

“I’ve heard of them,” Killian says, “go on.”

“Well,” Tiger Lily continues, “you may have heard that though they banished the Evil Queen after taking back the kingdom, she returned when Snow was with child. She cursed the baby with an evil spell.”

“Yes,” Killian says with a shake of his head, “and it came to pass. The child came too soon and died.”

“No, she did come too soon, but the child did not die. Secretly, the Blue Fairy helped the court woodworker fashion an enchanted wardrobe -”

Emma gasps and clutches her husband’s hand tighter. “Killian! A wardrobe!”

“I know, love,” he whispers.

“The wardrobe was supposed to send Snow safely to a land without magic where the curse couldn’t touch the unborn child,” Tiger Lily says.

“It could only carry one,” Tink clarifies.

“But the baby came too soon, so they had no choice but to send the child through alone. The Evil Queen and her minions were mounting an attack on the castle, so they had no more time.”

Killian nods. “I’ve heard of that battle. It’s a favorite tale in every realm, though not one with a happy ending. The Evil Queen was slain, and everyone was led to believe that in the chaos, Queen Snow lost the child.”

“And you believe this baby was me?” Emma asks softly.

Tiger Lily reaches across the table and gently turns over Emma’s left wrist. “The Blue Fairy cast a spell over you in the womb so that when you were born, this mark would be upon you. So your parents would know you when you found them.”

Emma’s eyes well up with tears. “How did they know I would ever find them?”

“They had faith and hope. Even with the Evil Queen dead, her curse still remained until your 21st birthday.”

Tink jumps in, bouncing on her seat. “The best part, Tiger Lily, tell them the best part!”

Tiger Lily smiles indulgently at the blonde. “I think you’d like to tell them, so go ahead.”

“The Rose Fairy imparted a gift to you, Emma - that the wardrobe would bring you your true love, and that when the time was right, he would lead you home.”

Emma turns to Killian, her eyes bright with tears as she cups his face. “Our wardrobe, Killian, that’s why it appeared to us.”

He shakes his head in wonder. “Emma, I know how you feel about me, but true love? That’s the strongest magic of all. Surely someone more worthy . . . “

Emma’s face softens as tears slip free and roll down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? The wardrobe brought us together right when we needed one another the most. Right before I lost Martha, right before you lost your brother and Milah. Then it brought us together for good when you found Henry.”

Killian lets out a breath of wonder as Emma’s thumb traces the scar on his cheek. “We always find one another, don’t we?”

Tiger Lily and Tink both beam as they speak again.

“It’s funny you should say that -”

“Because it’s kind of your family motto.”

To Be Continued . . . . 😉

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @delirious-latenight-laughs

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #fate #soul mates #angst #slow burn #childhood sweethearts

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rosethornewrites · 5 years ago

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Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 3

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi's Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi's Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we're all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone's well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila's brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Marinette gets serious.

Notes: This fic is 3 comments away from the 1K comment milestone on AO3!

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2

------

In comparison to Jagged, who was coming up with more and more ridiculous ideas—getting a pet crocodile, for instance, which made it seem he wanted Adrien to be a mini-him—Marinette was positively sedate when Adrien came back into the lounge. She was seated primly with a notebook she’d found somewhere.

She looked up at him, quirking a smile. “We need to be serious about this if we’re going to win.”

Jagged let out an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, being serious is so not rock n’ roll.”

Adrien blinked. “Win?”

“Beat your dad at his own game. Manipulating public perception.” Marinette gestured to the notebook, which had a list. “We have fifteen hours before the announcement hits the news, about, if it’s meant to be released at nine tomorrow morning. That gives us some time. Not much, but some.”

He sat down, browsing the list.

Non-Lila fake relationship (call Nadja Chamack)

Not skunk hair – black w/ green tips?

Expose Lila – make her inconvenient (no more photoshoots)

Jagged read out loud over his shoulder, adding commentary like, “Wait, you know Nadja Chamack, too?” and “Yeah, I guess that’d look better” and “I’m in!” The last one regarding Lila.

“I texted Penny to come back so we can make the plans more cohesive before moving to clothes,” Marinette said as he handed back the notebook.

“Should I tell the hotel to hold off on the hair, too?” Jagged asked. At Marinette’s nod, he moved across the room to the phone.

Adrien was stunned that she had, in the course of one conversation he’d had in the bathroom with Plagg, come up with something that would look less haphazard.

“But who would I have a fake relationship with?”

The idea made him uneasy. It felt a lot like what his dad was doing.”

She bit her lip. “Um, not me. But someone who knows Lila is toxic and is willing to help us. The only reason for it is to make it look like your dad is trying to break you and this person up, or is embarrassed or something.”

Adrien winced. “I mean, I don’t want to use someone like that. It’d be easiest to choose a guy, since Father wouldn’t dare upset the LGBTQ+ community with him being in the fashion industry, but it’d be a little disrespectful to the community, wouldn’t it?”

Marinette was quiet for a bit. “I… I don’t know. I’m, um… I identify as bi, but… Maybe if you basically said it was a relationship to explore your sexuality? Like with someone who’s also a friend?”

“But… I don’t think I know anyone who’d be willing to do that.

Realistically, everyone in their class was under Lila’s thumb. Another celebrity would make it weird. Other models might be concerned about a future modeling for Gabriel.

Jagged butted in. “Weren’t you jamming with Anarka’s boy that one time?”

Adrien blinked. “Luka?”

“He might be willing to help—and you could promote Kitty Section, too. Make that part of your outfit.” For some reason, Marinette’s cheeks had turned pink. “Um, is it okay if I text him and get him to come?”

Honestly, Adrien had been a bit jealous of Luka when he’d wielded the Snake so well after Adrien’s failure—but Plagg had pointed out that it just meant he was a better Black Cat. And he was fond of the older boy, who had welcomed him into the band even though his father wouldn’t let him play often.

“I think… yeah. Let’s talk to him. Hopefully he’s not fooled by Lila’s act.”

“He’s not,” Marinette said darkly. “I, uh, told him after she got me expelled and almost Akumatized.”

“No!” Jagged jumped up. “I can’t believe she hurt you so bad! Oh, she’s got to go down!”

Penny just so happened to walk in at that moment. “Who?”

“That Lila girl almost got our talented, wonderful Marinette Akumatized, Penny! We can’t have that.” Jagged sprawled against his part of the circular sofa dramatically. “She’s, like, my muse!”

Marinette turned beet red. “I-I’ll just text Luka and ask him to come here.”

She pulled her phone way closer to her face than was necessary. Adrien thought it was cute that she got flustered whenever someone reminded her of her accomplishments—she was so modest, unlike Lila.

Penny, for her part, rolled her eyes at the dramatics, but smiled. “Adrien, can you run through a list of her lies? I might be able to get more people on board, since she seems to like to steal fame.”

Adrien nodded, listing staying with Prince Ali of Achu, being best friends with Ladybug, Jagged Stone’s kitten and song for her, and knowing Steven Besielberg and other Hollywood directors.

“She even told our friend Nino she would introduce him to Steven Besielberg, and he wants to be a filmmaker,” he finished. “And those are just the ones I’ve heard—she probably has more.”

Jagged broke in. “I wrote one for Ladybug after she saved me, and Mariette inspired a song, but I’d never write her a song, even as a take-down. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Penny was writing on her pad. “I can get in touch with Steven Besielberg, at least. That should be interesting.”

“Luka’s on his way,” Marinette broke in. “And, uh, I just realized my idea for your hair would match his… So maybe that was a sign?”

Adrien smiled. “At least that I should also spend time playing with Kitty Section again.”

Penny cleared her throat. “Adrien, do you have control of your official social media?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Kind of? My father has the password for both my email and my social media accounts.”

She nodded, and gestured to a laptop on a nearby desk. “Change them while we wait for M. Couffaine. I’ll help you make sure he can’t regain control.”

By the time they finished, Luka had arrived. Adrien and Marinette worked to explain the situation to him; the blond could tell by the look on his face, as though he’d just smelled something nasty, that Luka knew of and wasn’t fond of Lila.

He hadn’t even gotten to asking him, when the older boy abruptly nodded. “A fake relationship. Something your father can’t protest without looking bad. I’ll do it, so long as we take down Lila, too.”

Adrien grinned. “Already in the works.”

Marinette, though, looked worried. “Has she done something?”

Luka scowled. “She’s been trying to make things weird between Juleka and Rose lately. It’s bad enough she hurt Marinette, but she’s not hurting my sister.”

Adrien traded serious glances with Marinette. This was bigger, more important, than just avoiding a fake relationship with Lila now. If the liar had proved anything with her plot to get Marinette expelled, it was that she didn’t care who she hurt, what relationships she destroyed.

It was time to take her down.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous salt #my fanfiction #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #uncle jagged #jagged stone #marinette dupain cheng #penny rolling #lila salt #lila 'the liar' rossi #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste

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tsipasce · 4 years ago

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Same Difference, ch.01

Summary: When Chronostasis is almost crushed by a falling beam, a passerby, Nanami, saves him. In an instant, she disassembles and reassembles it into harmless bits of metal. There are no other witnesses, but after she leaves, he makes an urgent call. "Overhaul, we need to talk. Now."

A/N: As you can see, I am terrible at summaries, but this is a multichapter fic that began as a plain reader insert but morphed into a beast all its own. Anybutts, I’ll be putting out chapters every week because Overhaul is a dick, but I just can’t help myself. Let me know what y’all think~

Chapter links: 02

AO3 | Fanfic

It was a picturesque late summer day, the sun was shining brighter than All Might’s smile and the clouds were fluffier than Fat Gum— Man I should really.. not get into poetry. That was terrible. Nanami thought to herself as she began daydreaming. She’d been cooped up in her office for what felt like ages and the temptation to escape from her office was palpable. She’d call it an escape, but in her defense, she’d chipped away rather efficiently at her mountain of paperwork and her last appointment of the day wasn’t for another couple hours. Before the mental argument for frolicking over to the nearby café could be made, she’d already grabbed her keys and purse and was out the door of her office. Walking down the hall, she made small talk and greeted her colleagues and coworkers in passing. It had only been a year and a half since graduating, but she was confident that hearing her name with Dr. in front of it would never get old.

“Well look who decided to leave their cave today…” a distant voice called from behind. The figure coming towards her was waving a bit too enthusiastically for someone who’d just worked 12 hours straight.

“ Ha. Ha. How very original ~” she replied dryly.

He stopped at a comfortable distance in front of her and smiled. Forgetting how nice it was to see a friendly face after being cooped up in her office, she reflexively returned a tired smile of her own.

Dr. Tanaka was one of those colleagues who was just cool enough to be considered an actual friend outside of work and after her own, long shift she could use a casual chat with a friend.

“Headed out for a break?” He continued.

“Finally, yes. It’s just too nice outside and mama needs a sugar rush. Want to come with?”

“No thanks, I think I’m going to finish my rounds and head home, but if you’re looking for sugar, I’d avoid the usual spot. Some petty criminals were caught there earlier so it’s cordoned off for the rest of the day.”

“Really?” She sighed, annoyed at the inconvenience.

“Yes, really. But, there is a place I passed by this morning that had one of the best mochas I’ve had in a while, you should try it out and let me know what you think.” He replied seeing her perk up at the mention of anything related to chocolate.

“Well, I’m down to do a little coffee shop research,” she replied having already made her order in her head.” I’ll give it a try.”

“There’s a good sport. What’s the worst that could happen? Here’s the address” he texted her the location and an adorable café with way too many sweets popped up—Tanaka was definitely a good friend.

Mentally already at the café, she said her goodbyes and headed out the door, determined to seize what was left of the day and some pastries.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On her way, Nanami decided to take the scenic route. It was about the same distance as her usual spot, just in a different direction. Having already mentally noted the directions, she took the opportunity to really appreciate what she’d been missing. All the sounds and sights of a peaceful Friday afternoon. People walking about on errands, the sound of kids playing in the park nearby, and the smell of something amazing letting her know she was headed in the right direction. A creaking noise broke her out of her reverie and she looked up to see a load of large steel beams being moved by a crane. It seemed way too risky to be moving such large materials in a place that densely populated, but she figured they had to build it somehow and continued on her journey.

After another block she turned the corner, spotting her destination. Walking in, she was thankful the atmosphere matched the photos and had already planned on thanking Tanaka for such a solid recommendation. The barista actually looked like she was enjoying her job and cheerily informed her that the pastry she’d picked was baked fresh every day in-house to complement their homemade syrups. Could this day get any better?

While waiting for her order, Nanami got a text that her appointment needed to come in earlier, and she’d need to return to the office soon. Eh, that’s alright, I’ll still have 30 minutes to enjoy the food on the walk back. The barista called her name and she hurriedly picked up her order, assuring them she’d be back again.

One foot already in another daydream, she leisurely made the walk back to the hospital, taking in the sights. The people eating in the bistro, the smell of flowers in the local shop, the sound of the wires creaking and buckling above the strange man in the alley… Hold up.

Oh shit. Nanami thought to herself, already exasperated.

As much as people called doctors heroes, she wasn’t that type of hero. Her quirk just wasn’t meant for that kind of work. However, judging by how precariously the beam was dangling above his head, she thought she might need to reconsider. Before she could finish her internal conflict, her feet were moving. If I could just get in range to yell at him, he might be able to get out of the way in time. Maybe. Did she really want to take that gamble with a stranger’s life though? She knew the answer before it was asked, pressing forward towards the site.

He was across the street and she hopped over the guard rails, thanking her lucky stars she took a passing interest in parkour that one year in college. Just as she cleared the rail, the cord holding the beam snapped. Her heart sunk, knowing what she’d have to do. Unless he had a speed quirk, she was his only chance. She and her quirk...

Revamp? No, that sounds lame. Renovate? Okay well now I just sound like I have some weird home improvement power—but enough of that. Focus, girl.

He heard the beam falling and glanced upwards, his expression making it clear that he knew it was too late to use whatever quirk he had to get out of it. Right before the look of acceptance could settle onto his face, she jumped beside him, her hand stretched upwards towards the beam. Her fingertip and the metal made contact for a split second and then… “clink”. A thousand more tiny clinking noises followed soon after. She’d done it.

Though disassembling the beam into a thousand tiny nuts wasn’t amazing per se, it beat turning it into a plume of toxic dust for passerby’s to inhale or disassembling the beam into two and risking the halves falling onto another street or a nearby building. Judging by the very alive man next to her, she’d say she did a pretty good job for a not-hero.

It seemed as if the alley was closed off enough that thankfully no one else on the street had noticed the commotion, and the construction workers would take a few minutes to get down to where they assumed the beam would have landed. Now came the hard part: Making sure no one knew exactly what happened and that I was ever here.

Nanami was very secretive of her quirk. She used it sparingly to help people and perform everyday tasks with a bit of convenience, but deep down she knew it had the potential to be something else. She’d learned the hard way to keep it in check and avoided overindulging. Only her parents and her closest friends knew what it was and even then, she did her best to downplay it. Especially after the incident.

She snapped out of her inner monologue to see a very shocked man standing next to her, staring at her as if he’d seen something that was both extraordinary, yet familiar. He was a little taller than her but seemed close to her in age. He was wearing what appeared to be a stark white raincoat and had distinctive, pointy hair—not just pointy, she noted, there’s whole arrows at the end. Quirks really produce some interesting phenotypes…

Remembering that she needed to remedy the situation and get back to the office as soon as humanly possible, she broke the silence.

“Uhhhm, hi. Are you alright?” she began nervously.

“How did you ...” He still looked like he had seen a ghost, but she needed this interaction to end before the construction workers came and started asking questions.

“Look, I know this must be a bit jarring, but I really need to go. Will you be alright until someone else arrives?” She quickly realized being both direct and smooth was more difficult than she’d imagined.

An emotion she couldn’t put a name to flashed across his face and he recomposed himself.

“Could I at least know your name to thank you?” He asked innocently.

“Oh no, you don’t have to thank me. But if you really want to—just do me a solid and promise me you’ll keep this between the two of us, please?” She said antsy and almost pleading, knowing the workers and passerby’s curious about the missing giant beam and metal rain could come by at any second.

He paused and she could tell he wanted to say more but didn’t. “Of course, thank you for you hel—”

With the verbal confirmation that her secret was seemingly safe, she ran like the wind out of the vicinity and back to the safety of her office. After recollecting herself, she realized her treats had gotten lost in the melee and her pockets were now full of various nuts and bolts. No wonder why it was so hard to run... she thought to herself, emptying out 10-15lbs of bolts from her coat pockets. Looks like I won’t need to go to the hardware store for a while…

She quickly shrugged it off and walked into her appointment, already plotting to do nothing but sip some wine at home and chastise herself for not being more discreet about using her quirk.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As Chronostasis was inspecting the sight of the Hassakai’s latest development, he had lost himself completely in thought. By the time he realized his error he was sure it was too late. He had never used his quirk on an object that large and in that moment of hesitation he feared the worst. Then in an instant, a woman stood beside him under the falling beam and did what he’d only seen one other person do before: Overhaul. With a single touch she disassembled the object and reformed it into something else. Perhaps it was a fluke, he considered, but if so, why did she seem so desperate to keep it a secret? As she bolted before he could finish his sentence, he followed her silently a few blocks before she entered a nearby hospital.

After reconfirming with himself what he’d seen, he made a prompt call, forgoing the usual formality in his calm urgency.

“We need to talk. Now.”

#overhaul #overhaul x oc #overhaul fanfiction #fanfic #bnha #chisaki kai #chronostasis #kai chisaki #mha overhaul #mha oc #mha fanfic #shie hassaikai #mha fic #hari kurono

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houseofhurricane · 4 years ago

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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (4/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter -- so many gowns and flowers! people who are doing what they love to do! Nesta! -- but also it's hard to keep putting Elain through the wringer. That said, I am very excited to show you more of What Is Going On With Elain. You can find all chapters here.

“I didn’t think that Tamlin’s gardens extended so far into the forest,” Mor says, leaning against a tree. She’s been delivering flowers from the continent over the past three days, and once the plants are handed over to the gardeners, she finds an excuse to hover over Elain while she gardens. Elain is sure that Mor has received instructions not to leave her alone, but she doesn’t mind chatting with Mor while she gardens, preparing all the special plots she’s not sure she could convey to the Night Court gardeners in words.

“I’m trying something new,” Elain says, patting the soil around a columbine, the blue and white flowers bobbing in the fragrant breeze. “These flowers are happier in the wild.”

“Any news from Tamlin?”

“You may be scaring him away.” She aims a smile at Mor to show she’s mostly joking. “I’ve seen him in the gardens a few times but we’ve only exchanged pleasantries about the renovations. Feyre warned me that he takes hardly anybody into his confidence.”

She feels the golden weight of Mor’s gaze, the frank and generous assessment that Elain has always loved and admired, even those first months after the Cauldron. Mor sparkles like champagne, effortless and loveable and impossible to forget.

“You have the makings of an excellent spy,” Mor says, apparently out of nowhere.

Elain snorts, and Mor laughs at the sound, the way she always has, the overwrought daintiness that, she’s told Elain a dozen times, she can’t quite believe is real. Elain has never told Mor about the hours she spent practicing the sound until it was pretty, the way she was always expected to be.

“I’m not trying to flatter you,” Mor continues when she’s collected herself, settling herself more firmly against her tree, so that her golden hair catches on the bark, “I mean it. A good spy is a person you’d never expect, a pleasure to talk to, someone who listens well.”

“Azriel never said--” Surely the spymaster of the Night Court would have recognized her potential if it had ever existed.

“Az can be a little blind when it comes to the people he cares about.” There’s a strain in Mor’s voice, which Elain thinks she’s being allowed to detect it, because she’s heard Mor’s effortless diplomacy in a hundred more trying situations. “He likely wouldn’t want you to come to any harm.”

“And you do?” Elain asks, to keep the conversation going more than anything, while she works on the hole for the bleeding hearts, her favorite forest flowers, the pink and white blooms almost too good to be true. Give her enough time at the Spring Court and she’ll adorn the forest with them, all the way to the human lands, to their wretched cottage and straight on to that little village that never cared if the Archerons lived or died.

“Of course I don’t want you to be hurt,” Mor says, firm enough that Elain realizes she angled the question too harshly. “It’s only -- I think that maybe you are tired of beauty alone. Not that it isn’t enough. I’ve spoken with so many people who have found healing in the gardens you’ve helped them build.”

“But you think I could be useful in other ways.” Elain looks up at Mor from her crouch on the forest floor, and sees the other female’s worried expression. She wipes a scraggle of hair off her brow, feeling the dirt as it forms a smudge. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, Mor.”

“Do you ever get tired of being seen as easily broken?”

Elain finds that her hands are grasping air, the bleeding heart having fallen from her gloved hands and into the ground with hardly a thump.

“Only when I can’t --” she starts saying when she knows she won’t begin to cry, because what’s inside her is pathetic and dangerous enough, and therefore must be spoken as prettily as possible. “I think there is something truly wretched and useless inside me. I think that’s what you see when you tell me I could have this other life.”

Mor takes Elain’s shoulder in her palm and squeezes, then says, “I grew up in a place where I was a beautiful object to everyone but my own heart. I worry, Elain, that you have fooled yourself and believe that’s all you could be.”

The vision swims up through Elain’s mind, so vivid even on repeat that she almost gasps with the force of it, the sheer power of the Crown on her head, Tamlin looming over her, the life in him banked in the gloom, though he’s still broad and tall and handsome and breathtaking in spite of everything, though these are thoughts she would never admit, not even if the vision were pulled from her by force, even if a knife were held to her throat. Before, considering the vision, she thought they’d be in his ruined estate, but that’s changing thanks to Laella and her builders, fixing the rooms wrecked by Tamlin’s rage and the obliging elements, and adding all those sparkling windows and interior gardens, so apparently she will one day go and build her own house of horrors.

She does not know the first thing about being useful, has no idea how to prevent this fate, except for her certainty that her jealousy and wretchedness will lead her there. And perhaps she was born to be more than a sweet and pretty girl who men could easily fall in love with. Perhaps that is how she can unravel the vision, make a new future in which she can be approximately good. Or perhaps that is how she becomes the crowned monster on the throne. The visions never contain sufficient instruction for Elain to know that she’s avoided the future until the moment passes by, the danger suffocated by a new reality. She’s all too aware that, for example, there are other battlefields on which Cassian could be killed.

She does not tell Mor any of this, only: “Tell me how to be a spy.”

And calmly, in her sparkling voice, Mor begins the lesson.

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

On Elain’s last night at the Night Court, Nesta enters her room without knocking.

“You thought I’d let you leave without a goodbye?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, the ring Cassian gave her at their mating ceremony brilliant even in the candlelight.

“I knew I’d see you at dinner.”

“You left without a word to anybody.”

Gwyn and Emerie had been there, and everyone had laughed, and a small cross part of Elain had felt as though they would all be fine without her. Azriel, across the table from her, had been smiling and laughing, content as she’d never seen him, his hazel eyes golden when he so much as glanced at Gwyn. Elain had left as soon as she finished dessert, telling Feyre she had a headache, and her sister had squeezed her hand firmly enough that Elain knew she’d heard the lie in her words. In the morning, she would start her residence in a new court. For a little while at least, she’d be able to leave these feelings behind.

But of course Nesta had found her.

“Did you really ask Rhysand to send you to the Spring Court?” Occasionally Nesta will still believe the worst of him, despite all the witnesses to the contrary.

“It was my vision,” Elain tells her. “I’m the one who--”

“You know what Tamlin did to Feyre.”

“I’m not--” She stops, not sure what she’s going to say next. Without a plan, the next words will surely be too revealing. “You were the one who once said I could stand to be more useful in this world.”

“If he so much as lays a hand on you, I swear to you I will un-Make him.”

“I expected nothing else,” Elain says, and the smile is easy. All her life, she has been comforted by Nesta’s growling, known that she’s always been safest inside the circle of her sister’s wrath.

“And in spite of everything, I’m glad that you’ll finally see the Spring Court.” Nesta’s words are a grudging grumble, their impact lessened by her hand in Elain’s, the two of them in a long embrace that says everything they have a hard time saying, now that everything has changed. “I heard that Tamlin is unleashing you on his gardens.”

Elain knows that Nesta truly loves her because her sister listens to her plans and ideas and dreams for the garden for an hour, despite the fact that she has no more than a passing interest in even the most exquisite blooms. She even asks Elain about the arrangements of colors and fragrances, and Elain pulls out her parchments and perfumes so that Nesta can have the closest thing to a full garden experience it is possible to conjure indoors.

“Who knows, maybe one day you’ll bring one of your novels to the finished gardens.”

Nesta makes a sound between a snort and a growl, totally unique to her sister, that prickly glee, but then her face grows somber.

“I keep thinking that he’s finally got what he wanted, when he showed up at our cottage years ago.”

“Tamlin isn’t dragging me out into the snow,” Elain says, though she doesn’t remember the scene, a side effect of the glamor that turned Feyre’s disappearance into a joyous reversal of fortune.

Sometimes she wonders what memories her mind has hidden from itself, what secrets it’s been forced to keep silent.

Nesta’s hands are around hers, squeezing until Elain can feel their pulses beating, aligning as they look at one another.

“I never wanted to give you up,” Nesta says. “I would have let him shred me to pieces before I let him touch you.”

Elain knows she should tell Nesta she’s not as fragile as her sister thinks, but that would lead to a conversation which would be deep and cutting and maybe devastating. Instead she reaches for Nesta and holds her close, murmurs that she will be all right, until Feyre enters and hugs them both, and when the three of them wake up hours later in Elain’s bed, warm and sleepy, Elain wonders, half-asleep, why she ever thought of leaving.

But when her sisters have gone to their mates’ beds, and Elain is alone again, her sleep is not dark and dreamless as before. Instead she dreams of her father as she last knew him alive, the straight back and broad shoulders and thinning hair and the kind smile that made his lips disappear. When Elain was little and bold enough to ask about such expressions, he told her that his joy had swallowed up his lips, he was so glad to see her, and then he would whirl her around until she’d give unladylike whoops and get scolded. After what feels like an eternity of watching him, it occurs to Elain that she has never been to the place where they’re standing, a gray-blue blur that looks like the inside of a cloud or wall of seawater.

“Where are we?” Elain asks, with none of the certainty she experiences in dreams.

Her father’s face clouds, the smile winking out, and she begins to wonder how, exactly, this dream will turn nightmarish. She’s already seen his corpse.

“There is only one thing I can tell you, sweet one.” Her father’s eyes are glinting, his fingers balled into fists, the knuckles the same skimmed-milk color as the air around them. “The thing you seek is inside of you. It is inside of--”

He is reaching for her, as if to indicate the location of the thing, and then he vanishes, and Elain opens her eyes in bed, the light through her window still gray, her mind racing, the way she always feels after a vision.

A thousand questions immediately surface. How can her father appear to her in the future? Where is he, that she can find him and receive directions? And who has silenced him? Has he seen the monstrosity inside of her? And if he has, she does not understand how he can smile at her in that way, so lifelike and tender.

Elain breathes deep again and again, trying to will herself to sleep, hoping she will see him, hoping for even just another second of his smile. She’d always loved the way her father beheld her, that delight. For years she’d imagined a similar expression on her husband’s face. His features shifted depending on her circumstances and feelings, except for the light in his eyes, the smile with joy that would gladly pay whatever cost was required of it.

Morning arrives and she is still staring at the ceiling, trying to puzzle everything through.

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Elain’s arrival at the Spring Court is more uneventful than even she anticipated. Tamlin greets her and Rhys and Mor in a smooth and practiced way that leaves his rage only an assumption, even when Rhys makes veiled threats during his goodbyes, promising to return whenever she’d like for a visit to the Night Court. When he’s gone and Tamlin has left her to the company of the newly hired servants, while Mor winnows to the continent for the last of the tulips, Elain makes her way to the newly renovated room that will house her at this estate.

The room is perfect, in shades of pink and white, the white warm and bright, and the pink-upholstered sitting area almost mauve. On every flat surface, there are flowers, their scents carefully considered so that the room is fragranced but not oversaturated, and the outside wall is nearly all window, with a view of the woods, the growing hedge of tulips which is even more gorgeous than the last time she’d seen it, two days ago. The curtains are gauzy pink, thin enough that she’ll always be able to wake up to this view, the blossoms and the gentle fluttering of leaves in the breeze.

She had explained her favorite colors to Laella, hoping the dryad wouldn’t think she sounded like a little girl, and instead she walked into the most beautiful space she’s ever been able to claim. Tamlin told her that a maid would arrange her things, but Elain hangs her dresses and stores her jewelry in the cunning little box that keeps each chain and thread from tangling, arranges her perfumes on the vanity until there’s a knock at her door and the maid enters, not looking Elain in the eyes as she walks over to the trunks and boxes. She’s half Elain’s height and her skin is pink and her hair is alabaster, so that for a second Elain wondered what lengths Laella took, to make this room so perfect.

“I am sorry to be late, Lady,” the maid says, her voice a buzzing hum, the sound of bees drowsy on nectar, an accent Elain adores immediately.

“Nonsense,” she says, reaching out to squeeze the maid’s hand, gentle and watching in case the faerie flinches away. She never forgets her training. “And please call me Elain.”

“The High Lord said--”

Elain waves her hand, trying for imperious, in command, the kind of person Tamlin would trust with his military stratagems and political intrigue. “Leave the High Lord to me. You can call me whatever you’d like in front of other people, but I’m just Elain.”

“There are whispers about you, Lady. The winds say that the Cauldron granted you great powers.”

Elain would say that unreliable bits of the future don’t seem like such a remarkable gift, but she’s not sure whether the deprecation would help or hurt her cause.

“What is your name?” she asks instead, shifting her tone so it’s gentle as the petal of a rose.

“I’m Melis, Lady.” The faerie’s hands have not strayed from Elain’s clothes, arranging them on the hangers so that the pleats and ruffles fall just so, and there’s a longing in her eyes that reminds Elain of the way she’d look at roses in those years when she was poor and they would not grow in her pitiful garden by the cottage.

“Would you like one of my dresses?” Elain asks, after Melis has hung the golden gown she never feels quite ready to wear but loves to admire among the other dresses, a ray of sunlight in her wardrobe.

“Lady, the offer is generous, but I do not know where I would wear such a fine gown.”

“There are no celebrations in the village?”

“Nothing that requires a gown so… elaborate. And the High Lord allowed me to design the servants’ liveries.”

For the first time, Elain looks at the maid’s dress, the green-gray muslin gown which is moulded perfectly to Melis’ shoulders and torso, the skirts light enough to allow an easy movement but sufficient to sweep aside for a dramatic moment. The color makes Melis even rosier, her sparkling white hair striking. Even the white fichu at the neckline is soft and light and lovely. She thinks of the elegance of the new footmen, the muted green of their tunics. No doubt Melis had designed their garments. Elain feels slow, not to have caught these details right away.

“You have quite an eye for clothing.”

“I learned from my mother. She was employed by the High Lord, for the ladies of his court, before Amarantha. I grew up learning the possibilities of fabrics.” Another darting look at Elain. She’s sure that Melis is thinking of Feyre.

“I don’t want to give you more work, but I’m sure that most of my gowns could use some adjustments.”

Melis smiles, her teeth flashing white and pointed. “I would love that, Lady, though I doubt your dresses will need much improving.”

Elain shrugs and smiles while she reaches for a simple muslin gown, a dusty pink from which Nuala and Cerridwen have removed a hundred garden stains. As Melis helps her with the buttons, Elain jams a broad-brimmed hat on her head, her pointed ears squashing against the braided straw.

“If anyone asks, I’m in the garden,” she says as she heads toward the door, Lucien’s gloves in her pocket. The thought of seeing him today is warm in her stomach, and she can’t tell if the feeling is anticipation or anxiety. She’s my mate, he’d said, and though she’d barely been able to understand in those moments of terror and confusion, the first of her new life, the words have clung to her, defining too many aspects of her existence. She knows she would feel differently if she’d wanted him, if she’d felt the curl of affection and desire that Azriel roused from her as she awakened into her new life, the first beacon she’d been able to glimpse. Even what she felt for Greysen was stronger. Even knowing what she knows now, how he would reject her new self.

Whenever she sees Lucien, there’s a great whirling inside Elain: all of her wants to want him, and that swarm of hoped-for desire swirls around itself, centered on nothing. She’s encountered this feeling before, as a young debutante, but she always knew that at the next ball, another gentleman might catch her eye, that her father or else Nesta would save her from anyone particularly daunting. Now her father is dead and mates are a certainty and tonight, Elain will be face-to-face with Lucien again, practically alone with him in Tamlin’s estate.

She’s halfway across the grounds before she launches herself against a broad chest. Her hat lands in a lilac bush with a bristly sigh, and Elain knows she’s too slow to realize the sheathed knife that’s pressed against her nose, the dagger that would cut her cheek except for the leather around it.

When she finally meets them, Tamlin’s eyes are not as annoyed as she anticipated.

“Someone told me these gardens would be so beautiful that my guests would be compelled to linger,” he says, his fingers ghosting her shoulders as she rights herself. “I had assumed this meant they would be preoccupied by the flowers, not their own thoughts.”

He stands there for a moment, hands dangling at his sides, as if he’s waiting for her to laugh, but Elain’s not sure if he’s made a joke, and anyway nothing he said is particularly funny. Why she would use the Crown to compel him, Elain has no idea. Still, guided by both her mother’s training and Mor’s rudimentary instructions on spycraft, she schools her lips into a gentle smile, and averts her eyes. Let him think she’s shy, awed by the presence of the High Lord of Spring.

“Is everything to your liking?” he asks, finally. His thumb strokes the jeweled hilt of the dagger strapped to his chest. “I know the builders are still filling the place with noise, but, for example, your room...”

“My room is lovely,” she says before he can fumble for another phrase. Their previous conversation, their first time alone together, had been almost too easy, too revealing, and she wonders if he’s remembering it now, is determined not to revisit that swarm of truths. She herself feels too exposed already, even if she’s checked to determine that her mental shields are still in place. “It makes me feel as if I’m in the center of a flower.”

His smile is barely a quirk of his lips and Elain remembers all the stories she’s heard about him, particularly rumors that he’s spent the past two years as a beast, and she wonders if all that time in his other form has made certain expressions difficult. If conversation is difficult, and now that Rhys isn’t present, Tamlin has allowed a bit of that discomfort to show.

A generous bumblebee examines the crown of her hat, which is still perched in the branches of the lilacs.

“There was a story I heard when I was a little girl,” she says, almost without thought, only wanting to put them both at ease, “about a girl who was only the size of a human thumb. She lived inside the flowers and her friends were butterflies and birds and squirrels. The pages fell out of the book right where the story was written, from all the times my governess read me the tale.”

“You have always wanted to be smaller?”

Elain blushes at the question and she’s not sure why. Maybe because of the truth nestled inside the words.

“Maybe,” she says, not wanting the awkwardness between them to expand further. She wants pleasant conversation, light and meaningless. He will never trust her if her emotions are ragged, if she demands too much from him all at once. “But I have always loved the feeling inside a garden, the idea of beauty and nature all in perfect harmony. There are so many dark and dreadful corners of the world. A garden is never one of them.”

“I’m afraid I don’t agree with your assessment. That beauty could banish evil seems a tall order.”

“Now you will speak to me of sacrifice and war.” She’s slipping into the tone she found so easily at their last meeting, a veneer of confidence that makes her sound unbreakable, which perhaps glosses over her more unsavory truths. “But will you tell me, what happens when the war is over, when the time for sacrifices has ended?”

“I have rarely known such a time.” He looks so grave and certain and miserable that Elain knows she should make her way to the tulip fields, and at the same time, that she will needle him a little longer, until the expression is gone from his face. Her one little act of well-intentioned mischief.

“Then what keeps you fighting when all hope and certainty of your own goodness has left you?”

“In those moments I don’t allow myself to think. And you are thinking that I am some tragic hero, Elain Archeron, but you have never been in battle. Thinking is dangerous. It is easiest to empty the mind and unleash your body on its enemies.”

She is wide-eyed for a moment too long.

“I have offended you,” he says, “but I am only telling the truth.”

“I am only thinking, how sad it is, to be forced to sacrifice so endlessly.”

“One begins to think of any spark of joy as an earned reward.” His face is grave. He is thinking, she knows, of Feyre, the words the barest suggestion of an apology.

“Thank the Mother, then, for your gardens,” she says, and plucks her hat from the lilac. “I will see you at dinner?”

“Lucien and Vassa will arrive shortly after sundown. I imagine you would like to greet them, and then we will all dine.”

She nods and allows her skirts to swirl as she makes her way further into the garden, letting the blooms fill her vision until she’s only thinking of the proper arrangements, the groupings of plants that would make any being happy, and calm, and nearly overtaken by gratefulness that such simple beauty, such sweet fragrance, could exist.

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Elain is sweetly tired when she makes her way into the great hall of the Spring Court. She’d spent the day amidst the tulips, supervising the arrangements of color that she wants to look disordered but still correct, no corner dominated by red or violet blooms but rather as if a meadow’s riot of color had been transfigured into a mass of tulips.

Tamlin waits at the foot of the staircase, and when she’s halfway down and he looks up at her, Elain is glad she wore the deep blue dress which makes her skin glow like a pearl and her bearing a little more regal than usual. She feels, just for a moment, like the rightful emissary of the Night Court, not the High Lady’s sister who lied her way into someplace she’d never been.

Right as she’s made it to the bottom of the staircase, the servants sweep open the large wooden doors, and Lucien and Vassa appear, both of them gleaming bronze despite the lack of sunlight. As the pair of them approach, Elain dips into a deep curtsey that befits Vassa’s rank, a gesture she’d learned as a girl and always assumed would be useless.

Out of the corner of her vision, she watches the queen’s cheeks go pink. For a moment, Elain thinks that this is strange, that the proper greeting would be so discomfiting, and then she wonders if all the time that Vassa has spent as a firebird has caused her to startle at human gestures. Then Vassa and Lucien walk nearer, and Elain knows the true reason.

She can smell Lucien on Vassa’s skin. And she can smell the scent of the queen, amber and lemon, and Lucien. She has been High Fae long enough to know how these scents are intermingled, how difficult it is to wash off the scent of another after a while, how Feyre and Nesta will always carry the scent of their mates.

She’s my mate, Lucien had said, and those three words had changed her life, circumscribed it. Her mind fills with images, not of him, but of Azriel, about to kiss her, of Rhys looming at the top of the stairs. Her love and longing now a matter of politics between courts.

Now her mate has fallen into bed with another woman.

Elain knows that silence is the proper way to bear this indignation. She can envision, already, the proper smile that should appear on her lips: sad and a little knowing, but mostly hopeful. She tries to find the expression, but when she looks at Lucien, she sees in the furrow between his eyebrow and the gleam in his eye, equal parts guilt and badly concealed happiness, that he knows exactly what she’s realized, and that perfect little smile of the good mate scorned dies on her lips. Inside her there is such a writhing confusion, a rage that she knows will explode from her the moment her lips part.

She turns away from the group and runs away as fast as her silk slippers will allow, not caring that she’s making a scene, that she looks like a scared little child. All she wants is the cool night air on her skin, the proximity of her flowers, the knowledge that nobody is looking at her. She pushes through door after door, stumbling over the tools the builders have left for tomorrow’s work and nearly tripping over loose tiles, but finally she is in the garden.

The moonlight silvers the leaves and the air is fragrant with lilacs. Instead of pushing her thoughts away, Elain feels the writhing inside her grow stronger, as if a monster has taken residence inside her body, turning all her thoughts into a whirl of angry colors, jagged reds and black shards shot through with bright exploding lights.

All those years she believed that beauty and sweetness and delicacy would save her, and maybe they would have if she’d stayed a human woman in the thick-walled manor which had so nearly been hers. Instead she has been discarded, over and over and over. She cannot stop imagining their eyes as they look at her, the pity and scorn and guilt and the joy of finding someone who is not Elain Archeron.

She cannot wield a sword or summon flame, so instead Elain’s hands are frantic, tugging first the petals of the lilac and then her own hair, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, and then she’s sobbing so hard she’s nearly screaming, so that when there’s a hand on her back, she does scream, the sound shrill and rough in her throat, and when she turns toward the intruder, before she can determine who has touched her, she doesn’t mind the realization that she might die right here in the Spring Court gardens.

Instead she sees Lucien, and there is such regret on his face, etching lines around his eyes and mouth. Elain has been taught kindness until it’s second nature. Before he can say anything, apologize or explain, she reaches toward him.

Except that where her hands should be, there is only empty air.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #elain is my queen #elain x tamlin #tamlin #tamlin redemption arc #tamlin x elain #lucien vanserra #queen vassa #vucien #vucien is goals #inner circle #nessian #feysand #post acosf #acosf spoilers #gwynriel

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

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Beautiful Mess Part 2

A Brian May x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader works in a bookshop. She meets Brian May and they have an instant connection. It seems to be a fairy tale romance. But, things are seldom what they seem.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @mrs-jack-murphy, @not-john-watsons-blog, @simmisblog, @mirkwoodshewolf, @assembledherethevolunteers, @thosequeenboys, @lv7867 If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Ah...the plot thickens. A hint of a conflict arises.

Part 1

Part 2 here we go!!!

“Are you quite certain we’ve never met before?” Brian asked, popping a French fry into his mouth.

You decided on a casual dinner of veggie burgers and fries, since you knew things needed to remain friendly. He watched you for a response, blinking a few times in a way that was uniquely Brian.

“Do you believe in past lives?” you returned.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Shame,” you replied, raising an eyebrow at him as you ate a fry. “It would have been an awfully convenient explanation.”

He chuckled. “Convenient, perhaps, but not very logical.”

“Situations like this rarely are,” you said.

“True,” he agreed. “But since I don’t know you, you’ll have to tell me more about yourself.”

“What would like to know?”

He looked away, tapping his chin with his finger.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Oh, very subtle,” you teased.

His cheeks went pink. “I just -”

“Relax, Brian,” you said with a laugh. “I know.”

He smiled and you cocked your head. “What is it?”

“I like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“How you say my name.”

It was your turn to blush. Brian’s name rolled off your tongue naturally. You briefly imagined all the ways you could say it and smiled to yourself. Brian just loved the way it sounded with your voice.

“To answer your question, I live in a flat just around the corner from the shop,” you said. “I walk to and from work every day.”

“You live alone?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m by myself for now.”

“For now?” he pressed. “That changing soon?”

A wave of nerves hit you. The answer to that was more complicated than he knew, and it wasn’t something you even wanted him to understand.

“Maybe,” you said dismissively. “Life happens and situations change. I should hope I wouldn’t live alone forever.”

“I hope that too,” he returned. “Being alone brings a certain peace, but -”

“No one wants to be lonely,” you finished.

“Right,” he said, looking at you, amazed.

You beamed at one another. Dinner continued in a similar way, exchanging basics about yourselves like where you lived and where you grew up and family. You told him that both your parents were gone, which he expressed deep sympathy for. He told you how he built his guitar with his dad, which thoroughly impressed you. You bonded over a shared love of animals and nature.

Brian was easily the best person to talk to about anything. He really focused on you when you talked. His eyes were fixed on yours, and he always leaned toward you. His responses were thoughtful and he avoided turning the conversation to himself unless you directly asked. He was refreshing, and you found yourself liking him a lot more than you should by the end of the meal. Although, you finished the meal long before you finished talking.

“I should be getting home,” you said, checking your watch.

Brian frowned. “It is late, I suppose.”

“Don’t be too disappointed,” you said. “I’ve had such a lovely time.”

“I have too,” he replied. “May I walk you home?”

You smiled. “I’d like that very much.”

You left together and headed back toward your flat. You passed the bookshop on the way, where you told him to stop.

“What’s up?” he wondered.

“I need to get Cat,” you said. “I can’t leave him in store.”

You unlocked the door and went inside, not bothering to turn the lights on. You knew your way around here better than your own home. As you walked between the shelves, you noticed your hand in Brian’s. You had no idea when or how it happened, but you did not let go. You focused on the feeling of his warm palm against yours, and the way your steps fell in sync as you walked across the wooden floor.

“Cat!” you called.

A soft little meow followed in response. You found him perched on a shelf in the children’s section. He watched you with curious eyes, tail flicking back and forth.

“He looks as if he’s been waiting for us,” Brian remarked.

“He sort of does,” you agreed. You looked at Cat. “It’s ten minutes to curfew, you know.”

Brian laughed. “He’s strict, isn’t he?”

“It’s all very new, we’re still getting used to each other,” you joked, although feeling like you were talking about more than just Cat. “After all, it hasn’t even been a day.”

“Good lord,” Brian said. “It really was only this morning that we met.”

“Mhm,” you replied. “Doesn’t feel like it, does it?”

He shook his head. “It feels like much longer. Although, I am very much enjoying getting to know you, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes and hummed. “I like that.”

“Like what?”

“How you say my name.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, a sly smile parting your lips as he gave your hand a squeeze.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, your conscience was screaming at you. Face red, voice hoarse screaming. This was wrong. Nothing could become of this no matter what you felt. You knew better and you shouldn’t lead him on. It wasn’t fair to subject him or yourself to the kind of pain this would bring, given your situation. You needed to put a stop to this.

Your heart, on the other hand, was proving much louder and much easier to give in to. Your heart called out for Brian. To pursue what was there because you had never felt anything like this before. You had never had an easier time around someone new. Everything flowed with Brian. You were drawn to him as if by a magnet - a pull that was harder to resist than you ever thought. Looking at Brian’s face in the moonlight, you felt that you could deny him nothing. You were sold on him, no matter who had a hold on you.

Turning your eyes to Cat, you called him down. He was small enough to perch on your shoulder, little claws clinging to your sweater. Then, you left the shop, locking the door behind you. Hand in hand with Brian, you made your way down the street to your flat. When you reached the front door, you came to a stop and faced him.

“Thank you for such a great evening,” you said. “I haven’t been able to chat to someone like this in a very long time.”

“I had a wonderful time,” he replied. “Really.”

You grinned at him. It was dopey, blissed out sort of grin, where you poked your tongue between your teeth. Brian felt his heart skip a beat.

“Goodnight, Brian,” you said, feeling once again the joy of his name in your mouth.

He gazed at you, eyes intense. He leaned forward and you sucked in a soft breath. But he didn’t go for your lips. Instead, he brushed his lips against your cheek. Just barely grazing your skin. It made your whole body tingle with anticipation. You nearly whined for more, but swallowed it down. When he pulled away, you shivered at the loss of contact.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said.

He squeezed your hand once more, shared one last lingering look, and then turned and walked away down the street. You watched him go, heart pleading for you to follow him and never spend another moment without him by your side. This time, logic won. You shook your head and entered your apartment, feeling both on top of the world and like the worst woman in it. You set Cat on the floor to let him roam and learn his way around.

“Here’s your new home, I suppose,” you told him.

You headed to your bedroom, mind racing with everything going on. Brian was so wonderful and you felt a powerful urge to be around him. And yet...there was the issue of Richard. There was a lot to think about, and you weren’t sure you’d be sleeping tonight.

The next morning, Brian was still smiling when he woke up. His mind was so occupied with thoughts of you, that his morning was a mess. He put his shoes on the wrong feet and nearly stumbled out the door before correcting them. He lost his keys - although that was a fairly regular occurrence before he met you. Then, he went to the studio for work, and walked into the wrong room. Finally, he made it where John and Roger were already waiting.

Roger smirked. “Looks like someone got a shag in last night.”

Brian shook his head. “Better.”

“What, you got to do it twice or something?” Roger wondered.

“I think I fell in love last night,” Brian said.

Roger and John exchanged worried glances.

“Look, I know we took the piss out of you yesterday, but you actually think you’re in love with the bookshop girl?” John wondered.

“Y/N,” Brian correcting, recalling fondly how you had said you liked it when he said your name. He liked saying it. Almost as much as he enjoyed hearing you say his.

“You haven’t even known her a day,” Roger reminded him.

“That’s it, though,” Brian insisted. “I feel...this is mad, but I feel like I’ve known her forever. She’s so clever and fun and -”

“Hot?” Roger added.

“Beautiful!” Brian said.

“She must really be amazing in bed,” John joked. “Never seen you like this, Bri.”

“We didn’t have sex,” Brian admitted as he began preparing a cup of tea. “We didn’t even kiss. I mean, I kissed her on the cheek, but nothing more.”

Roger stared at Brian.

“What?” Brian wondered.

“You’re putting salt in your tea,” Roger said with a light laugh. “Are you okay?”

Brian looked at his tea and chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”

Meanwhile, you were having a much more difficult morning. Guilt began to eat away at you for what you were doing. It wasn’t fair to anyone involved, and you told yourself that you couldn’t see Brian anymore. As much as it pained you to think of it. Your attraction to him was too strong and your connection too deep in the short time you had spent together for you to feel confident going forward. Nothing could happen. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

You got up early to go to the pet store and pick up a few things you needed for Cat. Then you headed to work, bringing him with you. It would be too long to be away from him to leave him at home. Plus, it would be fun for the children.

Every Wednesday, a class of children from one of the local schools came for a story reading. Obviously, it was only the very young children, and you read them a book of their choosing from the store. You began preparing little snacks for them while a few other customers browsed the shelves.

When the children arrived, they were thrilled to meet Cat, who was surprisingly good with them. He snuggled into their chests and let them hold him. He purred when they scratched his head or his chin. You and the teacher passed out snacks and then you went to your rocking chair in the corner. The kids spread out on a blanket in front of you, quietly eating while you began to read.

About halfway through the story, the bell clinked and you glanced up. There, to your great delight in spite of yourself, stood Brian. You couldn’t stop the wide grin that claimed your face. Your stomach lurched at the smile he returned.

Brian watched you read to the children. You got into it - doing voices for each character, and showing enthusiasm throughout the story. You held the pictures out so they could all see, and they were totally enthralled by you. Almost as much as Brian was.

When the story was over, you told the kids they could sit and play as long as they liked - it was really until the teacher said it was time to go - and you approached Brian. He couldn’t stop smiling at you. You felt the same. Just giddy to be in one another’s presence.

“Hi,” you said sweetly.

“Hello,” he returned. “How are you?”

“Wonderful, now that you’re here,” you told him. “You?”

“Perfect,” he said.

“So, what brings you to the shop?” you asked.

“The manager,” he answered, making you blush and look at the floor.

“Smooth,” you said.

“You set me up wonderfully for it,” he said. “Normally, I’m not that quick. Especially around women.”

You giggled. “Well, is there anything I can interest you in? Book-wise?”

“I wouldn’t mind checking out your science section,” he said.

“Right this way,” you said, taking his hand.

Mentally, you were kicking yourself. Why was it so hard to pull away? All the things you had decided had gone out the window. God, you were absolutely weak for him. And after just one date, too. It wasn’t a date, you scolded yourself. You cleared your throat as you stopped in front of the shelf you were looking for.

“Here,” you said, pulling a book for him. “I thought I recognized the name of the professor you mentioned enjoying so much.”

He took it, impressed. “You really are a very careful listener.”

“Well, it isn’t very difficult when the speaker is so interesting,” you replied.

He blinked at you. “That’s...that’s kind of you to say.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I just feel very flattered. Normally, I’m so afraid I bore people when I discuss astrophysics, and you remembered this much.”

You placed a hand on his arm.

“You don’t bore me, Brian,” you assured him. You started to smile. “You can talk nerdy to me all day.”

He chuckled. “You’re very kind, Y/N.”

He started to hand the book to you but you shook your head and put your hands behind your back.

“No, that’s for you,” you said. “On the house.”

“You won’t get in trouble for giving it away?” he wondered.

“No, Papa won’t mind,” you said.

“Papa?”

You froze. How could you explain your relationship to Charlie? It was complicated, and the source of your mixed feelings about becoming closer to Brian.

“Charlie Kimball is my godfather,” you said. That was true. “We’ve been very close since my parents passed and so I’ve called him Papa.”

“Oh, wow, I knew you worked for him, but I didn’t realize he was practically family,” he said.

“Ha, yeah, practically,” you said dismissively.

“Freddie knows him better than I do,” he said. “Says Charlie’s one of the nicest men in business.”

“He is,” you agreed. “He’d do anything for his friends and family.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “So, fancy a drink after work?”

“We close at six,” you returned quickly.

You hoped you didn’t sound too eager.

After a few minutes, Brian had to return to the studio. He bid you farewell with a swift kiss on your cheek and you smiled. You watched him disappear down the street and sighed. What on earth were you doing?

I’m just getting a drink with a new friend, you tried to tell yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Another part of you wanted to remind you that you didn’t normally have such a strong desire to make out with your friends, but you pushed that down. You weren’t doing anything wrong.

Right?

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may x you #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #roger taylor #John Deacon #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x you #beautiful mess series

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (12) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: hey friends! here’s chapter 12 of Not Nineteen Forever, i’m sorry it’s so late but i want to thank everyone who waited patiently and was so polite and encouraging while waiting. it really made me smile! remember i always love and am so grateful for sweet comments either on AQ, through reblog, or on my blog, so keep them coming bc they motivate me no end!! hope u all enjoy this chapter (p.s. finally accepted the ninex in this fic is not in any way background any more xo) xxxxxxx

trigger warning: alcohol n naughty texts xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Monet and Nina continued to be adorable, Yvie and Scarlet continued to be cute, but Brooke wasn’t sure if she wanted the same for her and Vanessa.

this chapter: there’s library woes, a flat party, a lilac-haired, tattooed bombshell, and Yvie confides in Scarlet.

***

Scarlet let a long puff of air out of her cheeks and blinked at her laptop, bored. She’d been so eager for Uni to start back again, so excited to get back to the city and see her friends that she slightly forgot about the whole academic aspect of everything. Lectures had started that week and in between trying to force four different modules’ worth of information into her head she had caught up with Vanjie, chatting before, after and in between lectures when they could. It was interesting, Scarlet thought. Before Christmas she could never get her to shut up about Brooke and how things were going with her but ever since the holidays it seemed as if Brooke was a subject to be avoided. Scarlet knew something must have changed but she didn’t want to push Vanjie for information if she wasn’t ready to share it. They still seemed to be together, anyway, even if things seemed a little strained.

At least she could say that wasn’t the case for her and Yvie. After many long evening Skype sessions during the holidays, the pair of them had decided that they couldn’t bear to be apart a moment longer and so Scarlet had taken the six hour train to go and stay with her girlfriend at her family home for a few days. She had been a bag of nerves at the thought of meeting Yvie’s family, but her Mum had been lovely (and seemingly just relieved that her daughter had settled down), her Dad had been welcoming, if a little quiet (“He’s under strict instructions not to speak because every time he opens his mouth he embarrasses me”), and the brothers and sisters that were still at home and not out somewhere or back to uni themselves were kind and friendly. In the three days they spent together, Scarlet and Yvie went for cold, crisp walks along the beach, curled up on Yvie’s old battered leather sofa the family had had since she was small and watched Disney films, gone ice skating, and looked out over Yvie’s city on a rickety ferris wheel that had looked as if it would take one good sneeze to knock it down.

But all that movie-screen romance was behind her now, as the most romantic Scarlet had been with Yvie in the week since they’d been back at uni was a Tesco Finest £10 meal deal cooked in Yvie’s flat and then watched in front of the TV as a perfect accompaniment to Coronation Street. They were both busy and waiting for their academic life to slow down a little again. The same could be said for their whole friendship group, really. The whole gang hadn’t done anything all together since their Christmas dinner, and Scarlet was itching for a night out where she could get absolutely off her face and forget that she was working towards the degree that would define the rest of her life. Sighing again and feeling the words on her laptop merge into a big blur, Scarlet looked up at the big clock on the wall. Five o'clock. She turned to Akeria who was sat at the desk beside her. She and Silky had come to join her mid-study, the latter having been dragged into the library by her flatmate because she still hadn’t handed in an essay that had been due since before Christmas and Akeria was quite frankly concerned.

“Akeria,” Scarlet whispered, the other girl quickly finishing a sentence she was working on, turning away from her laptop towards Scarlet and pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I want a night out. This is shit.”

“This is what we signed up for, baby,” Akeria gave a small laugh and shrugged, turning back to her laptop. Akeria’s dissertation wasn’t due until May but she had already started writing it, which struck the fear of God into the majority of their friendship group and made them all feel like slackers. “This is uni. This is our fuckin’ degree, girl.”

“You’re really making me feel better,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, Akeria giving another laugh under her breath.

“Hey,” Silky said from her position at the desk across from them, her voice entirely at speaking-pitch and causing a few heads to turn their way. “What’re you hoes talkin’ about? I want in.”

“We’re bitching about you,” Akeria deadpanned, tapping away at her keyboard.

“Fuck off, Kiki.”

“I want a night out,” Scarlet hissed over to her as quietly as she could. “But Little Miss Law Degree wants to stay in the library from dusk til dawn every evening until she graduates.”

Scarlet’s face lit up as Silky bellowed a laugh so loud it caused the girl beside her to put a set of earphones in. Looking at Akeria and hoping she hadn’t been offended, she was relieved to see the other girl giving her a wry smile.

“This bitch can be so savage when she wants to be, Jesus. Ouch. No, I’m just sayin’! This was what we chose to do, so quit complaining,” Akeria rolled her eyes, leaned back in her chair and stretched. “That being said…I do think I’ve earned a night out.”

“Well me fuckin’ too, bitch!” Silky exclaimed incredulously, Scarlet laughing in spite of herself.

“How much have you written, Silk?” she asked, the girl opposite looking down at her laptop, clicking a few times, then looking back up to the girls in front of her.

“You know what…it don’t matter how many words I’ve done, it’s the level of mental energy I have needed to use in order to-”

“Silky, how many words,” Akeria demanded, fixing her with a stare that looked as if it could slice her in half.

“Ninety-four.”

“Jesus Christ on a crystal meth binge,” Akeria sighed, Scarlet letting out a splutter beside her. Silky looked at them both pleadingly.

“Hey, now don’t make me feel bad! We only been in here-”

“An hour and a quarter,” Akeria stared at her.

Silky threw her hands up. “Well I been doing readings an’ shit! Do you know how hard it is to get any articles that have the exact quote ‘Boris Johnston is a piece of dog shit’? Fuckin’ hard!”

“Why the hell are you looking for that?” Akeria blurted out, unable to keep herself from laughing. Scarlet was laughing so hard she thought she would pass out.

“Because, bitch! I want to use that exact wording in my essay but I need some academic shit to back me up.”

“Fuck me.”

“To be fair, that is the worst,” Scarlet shrugged, not wanting Silky to feel too demoralised. “Searching for three hours to find one reference that can back up one of your points. Like, why can’t you just make the point because you want to? You know? Why is your opinion only valid if it’s been previously thought up by a white man in a suit?"

"Very profound,” Silky nodded emphatically. “Anyway, this bitch needs to get her drink on. I’m going to ask the girls."

As she watched Silky pick up her phone, Scarlet was reminded to check her own. She’d deliberately sat on it and put it on flight mode in an attempt to force herself to do work. Now, she felt as if she could excuse a small break. Turning off flight mode, she watched as a small flood of notifications came through. There had been fifteen new group chat messages, Nina had tagged them all in a meme, and she had two messages from Yvie. She checked the latter first, wondering if she would ever get tired of the feeling of her heart soaring like a balloon every time she saw, heard or spoke Yvie’s name.

Y: if i told u i was considering buying a set of faux-leather underwear would that be weird or a turn-on

Y: also that lasagne is even better on the second day u need to have some of it when ur round

S: Sorry this took me so long!!!!!! I turned my phone on flight mode in an attempt to get some work done

S: No such luck

S: Leather look underwear is a yes from me but i’m inclined to ask for pics first xoxoxoxoxo

S: Also yes i want lasagne

S: That’s not a euphemism btw i actually really do want some lasagne

Y: 😈

As Scarlet gave a soft laugh to herself, she checked what had been going on on the group chat since she’d been studying. She wondered what exciting plans could have been made, or what drama could have happened, or if anyone had any exciting or interesting news.

Okay Then: oh my god

Kim Kardashian-West: ??????

Okay Then: has anyone seen the state of Simon Cowell’s face

Scarlet gave a colossal roll of her eyes. She should have known that, at times, the groupchat could become one massive shitpost.

Kim Kardashian-West: No??? What’s he done to it?? Has he been in a crash?

Okay Then: he might as fucking well have been

What followed was a picture of what seemed to be a man whose face had been partially melted with a blowtorch, until Scarlet looked closer and realised that it was indeed the TV talent show judge.

mose: Jesus Fucking Christ what’s he done to himself

Scarlet’s bitch: that’s frightening

Okay Then: RIGHT???

Scarlet’s bitch: that’s what i see in the corner of my room when i have sleep paralysis

Kim Kardashian-West: That is TRULY the stuff of nightmares!!!!

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Fucking hell Plastique don’t fucking frighten us like that!!!

mose: He must surely see that he looks like shit? Like how could you not?

Okay Then: how can he see anything when his eyebrows are now entirely obscuring his eyes

Kim Kardashian-West: I am actually quite frightened guys

At this point, Scarlet caught up to the current conversation.

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: AS TERRIFYING AS SIMON COWELL’S FACE IS

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: CAN WE TALK BUSINESS FOR A SECOND?

Kim Kardashian-West: Of course!

mose: I’m all business

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Sure you are baby xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s Bitch: that is fucking vile keep that shit off the groupchat u big gays

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YA FAV BITCHES ARE IN THE LIBRARY AND WE ARE GAGGING FOR A NIGHT OUT

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WE AIN’T HAD ONE IN AGES

Okay Then: yaaaaaaaaaas bitches let’s do it

Okay Then: thursday night fever

Kim Kardashian-West: Well Monet invited me to this flat party she’s hosting tonight

Kim Kardashian-West: I could ask her if you guys could come too?

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Omg yes I’m down!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YES BITCH FLAT PARTY!!!!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: AND IF SHE SAYS NO JUST SAY SHE AIN’T GETTIN ANY PUSS FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE

Kim Kardashian-West: SILKY!!!!!!!! THAT IS DISGUSTING!!!

Yvie’s Bitch: We were all thinking it xoxo

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: AHAHAHAHAHA SILK

Okay Then: YES Scarlet

Kim Kardashian-West: You’re all horrible. And uninvited.

mose: Ninaaaaaa

Okay Then: Nina pls

Scarlet’s Bitch: fuck i’m not even sure i can do tonight ladies

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YVIE DONT YOU DARE

Scarlet’s Bitch: i’ve got a 9am tomorrow and i want to get that first u know

mose: Yvieeee the last time we were all together was literally over a month ago

Scarlet pouted to herself, disappointed at the thought of Yvie being the only one not out. Suddenly, an idea began to form in her head. Biting back a smile, she took to her chat with Yvie.

S: Yvieeeee

Y: Scarleeeeet

S: Please come to the flat party :(((((((

S: I’ll do anything you want

Y: anything i want?

S: Yesssss

Y: that sounds like a challenge princess

Scarlet crossed her legs and felt herself squeezing her thighs together. Looking around at the rows of silent people, she turned her phone brightness down to make extra sure nobody could see her messages, just in case the conversation turned the way Scarlet thought it was about to.

S: Well it depends on what you want me to do x

Y: wellllll

Y: i’ve been wondering if u can take a strap like a good girl

Scarlet felt briefly as if she’d been shocked by a defibrillator. Yvie always seemed to go from 0 to 100 real fucking quick, and Scarlet couldn’t help but love it.

S: You know I could baby

Y: i know you could, you’re such a good girl

Y: so how about if i come to this party i get to watch u bounce on my dick until u cum all over it

Scarlet could feel her face growing red. She and Yvie had messaged like this before, when they had been at home and miles away from each other and alone and very much not-in-a-public-place, but this was so fucking different.

S: Christ Yves I’m in the library!!!!

Y: shut up u started all this!!

S: Yeah I kinda did

Y: deliberately getting me to tell u what i want to do to u later when ur sitting in public in a fucking silent building

Y: jesus fucking christ Scarlet that’s so hot

Scarlet felt an urgent pulse of heat between her legs and she squirmed in her seat.

S: Where are you just now?

Y: i’m in bed

Y: touching myself at the thought of u sitting absolutely soaking wet and being able to do fuck all about it

S: So you’re coming to the party baby?

Y: how about

Y: if u can get to the flat before i cum i’ll fuck u into the mattress and i’ll come to this party or whatever

Scarlet nearly jammed her fingers in her laptop in her haste to get it shut, wrenched her charger out of its socket so hard it almost broke, and muttered a near-breathless goodbye to a confused Akeria and Silky all in the space of about twenty seconds as she struggled into her coat and sped out into the stairwell.

Five hours later Scarlet had managed to fit a lot in. She’d hurried round to Yvie’s to find her in bed in the black lace underwear she knew drove Scarlet crazy, and they’d fucked twice (fast, rough and passionate then sweet, tender and gentle) before Scarlet had reluctantly dragged herself out of Yvie’s bed to head back to her own flat and get ready for the party. Nobody seemed to know what the dress code was, least of all Nina who had sent about nine different outfit options to the group chat for opinions, so Scarlet settled on a tight black bandage dress that stopped at her calves, with trainers to dress it down a bit. She’d hurriedly munched down a bowl of pasta a la whatever-was-left-in-the-fridge, then set off across town to meet the girls at the edge of the park, where they had decided they would all meet then walk together to Monet’s flat.

Scarlet heard her friends before she saw them, Vanjie’s distinctive laugh ricocheting off trees and mixing with Yvie’s Bond-villan one letting Scarlet know she was heading in the right direction. Finally reaching the group, Scarlet gave them all a hug in turn and took in each of their outfits. It was still icy and cold, so most of them had opted for trainers over heels- save for Plastique, who always wore them for any night out and Vanjie, who was wearing chunky heeled boots. Much of their clothes clashed with the weather, though. Plastique and Akeria were in tight dresses, Brooke and Silky were in short skirts and tops. Vanjie had chosen some loose-fitting ripped denim jeans and a tiny bodysuit which left little to the imagination. Nina had gone for a light blue t-shirt dress and a chunky pair of trainers, her nerves palpable even in the group dynamic. Scarlet thought Yvie looked the best though in her burnt orange velvet skirt and tight black long-sleeved bodysuit, her unruly hair tamed and brushed into two huge bunches.

"You look nice, Nina!” Scarlet complimented her in an attempt to calm her down.

“Aww, Scarlet! Do I actually?” Nina smiled brightly, then cringed at herself. “Fuck! Why can’t I just take a fucking compliment like a goddamn normal person? I do this with Monet all the time!”

“Because you got a big-ass crush,” Silky shrugged. “It’s almost as big as Akeria’s ass. Not quite, though.”

“Shut up,” Akeria rolled her eyes and shoved her friend.

“Does it even count as a crush if you’re seeing the person in question?” Scarlet wondered out loud. Plastique shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Don’t know. Ask Brooke or Vanjie.”

The group exploded into laughter, something about it not quite meeting Brooke or Vanessa’s eyes. They were both standing close together, hands entwined, but Scarlet didn’t know. There seemed as if there was something off. Forced, even.

“Okay, let’s go, motherfuckers. I’m freezing my vagina off,” Vanjie said decisively, Nina moving first and making to lead the way.

“Right, a few things before we arrive,” Nina began speaking at a mile a minute before Scarlet could even compliment Yvie on her outfit. “Monet has somehow got it into her head that you guys are cool enough to be invited to this party. She doesn’t know the truth yet, so just try to act like a group of normal fucking human beings?”

“The truth? What the hell is that meant to mean?!” Brooke let out a laugh.

“That you’re all fucking weirdos! And she, for some reason, still likes me, so I am not having you all put that in jeopardy, capiche?” Nina snapped back, only half-joking.

“Jeez, thanks,” Akeria rolled her eyes, Nina instantly protesting.

“I’m joking! I’m joking. But not really. Like Silk, please try not to overdo it tonight?”

Silky raised her eyebrows and sucked her cheeks in. “I’m making no promises, girl.”

“Akeria, please don’t accidentally make out with anyone’s boyfriends?”

“Oh my God Nina! That happened ONCE!” Akeria cried out incredulously.

“And Vanjie, don’t-”

“Nina. We’re not going to embarrass you. Chill the fuck out,” Yvie rolled her eyes and squeezed the shoulder of the girl in front of her.

The girls all finally reached Monet’s old, red-brick building and her front door, and Nina pressed the buzzer nervously. There came a crackly screech of mayhem through the intercom which contained unintelligible speech, and then the girls were all quickly buzzed in. Scarlet looked to Yvie questioningly as she wondered if she’d heard any words, but she also appeared to be as clueless as she was. It didn’t seem to faze any of the other girls though, as Vanjie was already bounding up the stairs with Akeria as fast as her chunky heels could carry her. They didn’t have to walk far, as Monet’s flat was on the first floor. Vanjie moved to open the door first when it was suddenly wrenched open from the other side to reveal a tiny, skinny blonde girl with her hair curled and loose on her shoulders. Her pink dress was as tiny as she was, but regardless of her size she looked ready to fight.

“Who the fuck are you?” she addressed Akeria, barely acknowledging the others. “You here to sell us girl scout cookies, or an Avon catalogue, check our meter readings maybe?"

Just as Akeria looked as if she would instigate a full-scale fight, Nina poked her head out from behind Brooke’s tall frame. "Cracker, don’t be a dick!”

The girl’s face immediately relaxed into a wide, shameless smile. “Nina! Oh my God, you bitch, I never saw you! Come in, God!”

Akeria still bristling and Vanjie not too dissimilar, the girls all trooped into the flat which immediately struck Scarlet as something out of an American teen Netflix special. The hall was dark with the occasional string of fairy lights, and was packed full of people. Scarlet instinctively reached for Yvie’s hand in the crowd and got a squeeze back without even having to look at her. Nina and the girl, Cracker apparently, led them through to a huge bedroom which had obviously once been a living room but had been repurposed by a money-hungry landlord. The room was quieter but still had its fair share of people dotted about in amongst the Morrocan market wall-coverings, tiny elephant incense stick holders, and swathes of printed photos and posters that covered the walls like tiles. A huge bed sat to one side where Monet sat sprawled out with her shoes kicked off, chatting to a black girl with a huge afro that otherwise looked so identical to her Scarlet assumed they must be sisters. Cracker flung herself down on top of the mattress and joined them, gesturing vaguely to the girls.

“Neens!!” Monet suddenly squealed as she looked up, throwing her arms out as Nina launched herself half on the bed and half on top of her. Monet continued, muffled, as the rest of the girls awkwardly lingered. “I’m so happy you came, oh my God, this is so amazing!”

“I brought everyone too. Is that still okay? They can leave if not,” Nina instantly reeled off, Brooke bellowing out a laugh. Monet’s face lit up.

“Oh my God of course not! Brooke! Scarlet! Yvie!! Oh my God, come and hug me,” Monet beamed, her intoxication showing ever so slightly as Brooke graciously leaned down and hugged the other girl them got instantly pulled onto the bed. Monet gestured for everyone to come closer. “Guys! It’s so good to see you all, thanks so much for coming! There’s, like. Endless booze in the kitchen. Feel free to just drink us out of house and home.”

Silky’s face lit up and she immediately grabbed Akeria and Plastique, making to drag them through. “Vanj, you comin’?”

“Get me something? I'mma stay here with my girl,” Vanessa shouted back, giving a smile back to Brooke but finding the other girl looking down at her phone instead. Scarlet frowned involuntarily and then was suddenly distracted by a squeeze of her hand from Yvie (who still hadn’t let go).

“I’m going to go make sure Silky doesn’t give herself alcohol poisoning. You want me to bring you back a drink?” she offered, Scarlet unable to help the smile that spread across her face.

“You’re a sweetheart. Surprise me.”

“A pint glass of tequila it is,” Yvie deadpanned as she walked away, too quick for Scarlet’s hand that swatted at her in response. Scarlet tuned into the conversation that the girls were all having on the bed. It was big, but it was still a bed in a student flat, and so Brooke had her elbows resting on the mattress and her lower body on the floor and Scarlet had had to squeeze up to make room for Vanjie to sit beside her.

“She was guarding the place like fort fuckin’ knox,” Vanessa was saying, a playful side eye being cast to the blonde girl, who let out a laugh.

“You’re an animal,” Monet’s potential sister rolled her eyes. “A living guard dog. We should put a collar on you. One of those ones with spikes.”

“Nah. That’s only reserved for people who want to fuck me. Do you want to fuck me, Bob?” the girl asked easily, before taking a swig of the cider bottle she was holding. Monet hooted a laugh and the other girl didn’t even break her expression.

“I wouldn’t eat your pussy if it was made of chocolate fuckin’ fudge cake. Get the fuck out,” she retorted, Nina looking up at them all from her position on Monet’s tummy.

“Is that not that Lana Del Ray lyric? My pussy tastes like chocolate fudge cake…”

Scarlet let out a laugh that was more like a scream, the others on the bed doing much the same thing. Monet wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Oh my God, okay. For those of you that haven’t met before- this is Cracker and Bob. Two out of the three girls I have the blessing or curse of living with, I haven’t figured out yet,” she gestured to the two girls in turn and then turned to Scarlet. “And this is Scarlet, Vanjie and Brooke Lynn. They’re Nina’s friends, so they’re obviously amazing.”

“Nina could throw up on your bed and you’d say it was amazing,” Cracker looked pointedly at Monet. Monet shrugged and threw her arms around Nina.

“And what?"

"Nice to meet you guys. Are you two sisters?” Scarlet asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she pointed between Bob and Monet. Monet laughed and Bob rolled her eyes.

“Are you saying that all black people look the same?” Bob asked her with a piercing stare, Scarlet’s entire stomach dropping at the thought of having offended her.

“Oh my God, no! No no no, I just thought-”

“She’s kidding, Scarlet. Being a dick, as usual,” Monet cut off Scarlet’s frantic protests and immediately calming her down. “No, we’re not related. We just look spookily alike.”

“You fuckin’ wish you looked even a tenth as good as me. Hey, where the fuck is Monique?” Bob asked suddenly, both Cracker and Monet shrugging.

“Flatmate number four,” Monet quickly cut in to explain.

“Away making some chaotic cocktail, probably,” Cracker shrugged. Bob gave another roll of her eyes, then turned and smiled at Brooke, Scarlet and Vanessa.

“Nice to meet you anyway. Are you all flatmates too?” Bob asked politely, ignoring the position of the slit on her long skirt as she crossed her legs.

“Not us three exactly. Brooke lives with Nina and Yvie, that’s my girlfriend,” Scarlet explained, her stomach full of fizzy fireworks at being able to say that for real. “Vanj lives with Silky and Akeria over on Antigua Road.”

“They’re the best hoes in the world. They’re through in the other room getting drunk, but you’d love them,” Vanjie cut in. Cracker let out a laugh.

“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry I was so mean to you.”

Vanessa smiled easily, the free alcohol that the flatmates were providing clearly making up for any perceived slight. “Don’ worry about it, girl. We’d probably do the same if some hoes we didn’t know turned up at our party.”

“What about you, Scarlet?” Bob asked politely, instantly seeming far less intimidating.

“I’m over on the South Side. Kinda far out. I found this girl on SpareRooms to live with, but she’s a bit of a dick,” Scarlet explained awkwardly. Cracker leaned in, her eyes shining excitedly.

“What’s her name?”

“Fuck, I don’t want to say in case any of you are friends with her!” Scarlet laughed, but no protestations came. She lowered her voice as she continued. “It’s Ra'Jah? Ra'Jah O'Hara?”

“Oh, FUCK!” Bob cried out, holding onto Cracker for support as she almost fell off the bed. “I know who that is! She’s in my Econ tutorials! Oh my God, she’s an actual fucking moron. I had a group project with her once and she did literally nothing but talk about drugs and bitch about people on our course.”

As Scarlet was about to launch into how horrifically messy a flatmate she was, Yvie came back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer and a tall black girl with a shock of lilac hair swept up into a ponytail and a matching straight fringe. She was wearing a black pair of jeans and a tiny black cropped t shirt which showed off her many tattoos, and in her hand looked to be an elaborate mojito-style concoction.

“I made a friend!” she cried, before slumping herself down beside Vanjie, Scarlet growing ever more squashed up against the bedpost.

“Oh, the wanderer returns,” Cracker deadpanned. “What did you make?”

“Margarita mojito,” the girl shrugged, sipping her drink to punctuate her sentence. “It’s basically a mojito with a big-ass shot of tequila in it. Guys, this is Yvie! She’s Nina’s friend!”

“Oh, you’re Scarlet’s girlfriend!” Bob smiled at her in recognition, Yvie clambering into a tiny space on the middle of the bed, handing one of the beers to Scarlet, and casting her a look through narrowed eyes.

“What have you been saying about me, bitch?” Yvie smiled playfully, the look she was fixing her causing a sudden flash of heat to strike between Scarlet’s legs.

“All good things, baby,” Scarlet smiled innocently, Yvie relaxing and leaning back against Scarlet’s chest.

“This is Bob and Cracker. They’re my other flatmates. You’ve already met Monique, then?” Monet introduced the girls to Yvie.

“Yeah, we bonded over watching Akeria flirt with people. The bitch is a fucking mastermind. She walked into the kitchen and had a guy talking to her within, like, one minute.”

“Introduce me, introduce me!” Monique bounced on the mattress excitedly. Vanjie came dangerously close to falling off the bed and Monique quickly noticed, reaching a hand out to her and pulling her up with it. “Shit, sorry girl!”

Scarlet watched as Vanessa swept some hair out of her face and cast a quick appreciative glance to Monique’s toned arm. “Holy mother of Jesus, I gotta start goin’ to the gym.”

Monique let out a bark of a laugh. Cracker caught her other arm and held it steady, the tequila/rum combo threatening to fly out of its glass.

“Brooke, Scarlet and Vanjie, meet Monique.

Monique, this is Brooke, Scarlet and Vanjie,” Cracker pointed to each of them in turn, finishing with Vanjie who still seemed to be casting her eyes over Monique.

“Well, Vanessa. But these girls call me Vanjie. Or Vanj. You choose, really,” Vanjie explained to Monique, the girl’s ponytail swishing as she cocked her head.

“You ever get called baby?” she asked, feigning innocence. Scarlet couldn’t help her eyes shooting wide and her brain almost went into meltdown trying to register everyone’s expressions at once. Vanjie was laughing, but her face had flushed pink, clearly flattered. Cracker was screeching a laugh, Bob looked long-suffering. Nina and Monet were looking at each other urgently, and Brooke was properly looking at Vanessa with interest for the first time since they all sat down on the bed. Scarlet couldn’t see Yvie’s face, but she’d felt her tense up, and she couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah. By Brooke Lynn over there,” Vanessa finally said through her laughter, Monique not seeming fazed as she cast a glance to Brooke, who was smiling patiently but inwardly seething if the red tips of her ears were anything to go by.

“Oh, sorry girl! I didn’t know she was taken,” Monique laughed pleasantly.

“Yeah, we’re a thing,” Brooke opened her mouth, breaking her silence. Vanessa was smiling at her from across the bed, and Brooke met her eyes and smiled back.

“A thing?” Monique let out a short laugh, spilling a little of her drink. “A thing is, like, a noun. Not a relationship.”

“Technically a girlfriend is a noun too. Thing, place, person,” Nina piped up, presumably in an attempt to diffuse the increasingly awkward vibe.

“Are you a primary teacher, Nina?!” Cracker asked, clutching her chest in faux-surprise. Nina sighed.

“If I could reach a pillow, I’d thump you."

"Monet, you hearing this? Your girlfriend is practically chatting me up,” Cracker laughed, then stopped suddenly as her face became a mix of horrified and regretful, Bob giving her a not-so-subtle thump on the arm. In lieu of gauging Monet and Nina’s facial expressions, Scarlet whispered her thoughts to Yvie.

“When the hell are they actually going to become official? It’s been ages!” she hissed into her ear, Yvie craning her head round to reply.

“Nina would have to be on a cocktail mixer of cocaine, Es and alcohol to gain even half the confidence it would take her to ask Monet, so she’s waiting on Monet to do it for her. The thing is, I think Monet’s not as confident as we all like to think either. Maybe sometimes Nina’s panic can present itself as disinterest.”

“So Monet’s maybe waiting until she knows where she stands with her?” Scarlet nodded in realisation.

Yvie sipped her drink and took Scarlet’s hand, tracing round her fingers absent-mindedly. “I think so. I mean, we all know Nina’s absolutely ass-over-tit in love with her because we’re her friends, but she’s not going to let that show to Monet until she’s ready.”

Scarlet watched as Yvie played with a large turquoise ring on her finger. Her brow was furrowed as she thought about the situation, and Scarlet’s heart felt like an enormous water balloon- incredibly fragile and full and feeling as if it was about to burst. She thought back to Yvie’s words on Christmas dinner night, the ones she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since she’d said them.

Suddenly, she was pulled out of her thoughts by a screech from Vanjie, who was looking at Monique with enrapture as she told a story. Admittedly, most of the other girls were looking at her too, but Scarlet didn’t miss the sparkle in Vanjie’s eyes as she listened.

“And there it was, I swear by almighty God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…a whole baggie of weed, in the bin, covered in Cracker’s vomit.”

It was an odd moment for Scarlet to tune into the story but judging by the roar the girls on the bed gave, it seemed to be over. Vanjie had doubled over laughing and was clinging to Monique’s arm for support, the girl in question smiling down at her as if her reaction was the only one that mattered. Scarlet frowned and leaned into Yvie once more.

“Hey. What the hell is the deal with Brooke and Vanjie?” she whispered, making sure to keep her voice extra low. She instantly felt Yvie tense up in her lap.

“What do you mean? They seem fine to me?” Yvie murmured back. Luckily for Scarlet, she knew that Yvie lied so rarely that it was easy to spot when she was telling one.

“You know something. What is it?” Scarlet hissed urgently in Yvie’s ear. Hearing her give a big sigh, Yvie shifted and then rose on the bed.

“Me and Scarlet are just getting another drink, save our seats,” Yvie announced to the circle, receiving a cheer from Nina.

“Enjoy your sex!” she cried after them, and Scarlet, confused, simply followed Yvie to another room. The hall was quieter now, but the same could not be said of the kitchen, where as they walked in they saw Silky, Akeria and Plastique ringleading a game of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Ignoring their friends, Yvie turned to Scarlet urgently, concern covering her face.

“Okay, Brooke told me this in confidence but you’re my girlfriend so I kind of can’t really keep anything from you, right?” she began, Scarlet nodding quickly and desperate to hear what Yvie knew. “But you CAN’T tell anyone about this, babe. Honestly, it needs to stay between us. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Scarlet said instantly, her mind in overdrive. Yvie pulled a pained face for a moment, seemingly incredibly conflicted, and then looked to the floor.

“Brooke is having second thoughts about being with Vanjie.”

Scarlet’s face dropped. “What?!”

“Brooke told me that she felt everything was getting too intense, and that Vanj wanted more than Brooke felt she could give her. She’s sticking it out to see if it’s just a blip, but…yeah. Now you know why they’ve both been so weird,” Yvie explained, biting her lip and looking at Scarlet with concern.

Scarlet didn’t know what to think. It all made so much sense, the oddly distant vibes between them both, the strained atmosphere, Vanjie flirting with Monique. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Scarlet. “Does Vanessa know?”

Yvie rolled her eyes. “Yes absolutely, Scarlet, Vanjie is very happy staying with someone who isn’t even sure if she wants things to go further with her, Brooke’s told her everything!"

Scarlet’s mind seemed to fuse. "She needs to know.”

Yvie’s expression dropped. “Oh my fucking Christ, you literally just promised not to tell anyone.”

“Well I didn’t know what it was you were going to tell me! I mean shit, Yvie, imagine that was me and you and I was having second thoughts! Would you want to be kept in the dark?”

Yvie bit her lip and looked to the floor. Scarlet gave a snort. “Exactly, bitch. I’m going to go find her right now-”

“Scarlet, please,” Yvie stopped her quickly, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Brooke would be fuckin’ raging at me. I told you this shit in confidence. I know it’s hard because you’re close with Vanjie, but can you please…I mean hold off at least. If she asks you about it then, fine. You can tell her. But don’t run through there just now.”

Scarlet’s head felt as if it was a mess. She tapped her foot against the linoleum floor. “Who’s she told?”

“Just me,” Yvie said sincerely, looking into Scarlet’s eyes. “Nina doesn’t know. It’s just us.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m pinning all the fucking blame on you if she finds out I know, you know that?”

Yvie nodded understandingly. Scarlet let out a big sigh. The silence between them hung heavy in the air, at odds with the party happening around them. Suddenly, Plastique tottered into their line of vision, her eyes glazed and drunk.

“Oh my God guys! I haven’t seen you like all night! Selfie!!” she cried, sticking her phone in the air. Scarlet felt herself smile weakly but luckily the photo seemed to be too blurry for anyone to notice. Plastique immediately walked off again.

“Okay bye, nice seeing you,” Yvie deadpanned after her. Scarlet pressed her lips together to stop a laugh escaping them. Yvie caught her eye and snorted, and Scarlet couldn’t help but let out the laugh she’d been holding in. The tension had been diffused by a drunk Plastique, and Scarlet was relieved. She ran her hand down Yvie’s arm and squeezed her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just kept the fucking secret,” Yvie sighed, lacing her fingers through Scarlet’s own. She smiled at Scarlet, showing the little gap in her teeth, and Scarlet felt her heart jump. “Hey, I kind of want to go get chips, cheese and gravy and then head back to the flat and watch the Scooby Doo movie. You down?”

Scarlet smiled. She was kind of over the party. She’d been so eager for a night out, but all she wanted right now was a night in with her girlfriend. “Sounds amazing. Let’s go.”

The two headed back through to the bedroom to grab their jackets and say goodbye to the rest of the girls. Notably absent from the room were Brooke and Vanessa, and Scarlet was about to mention this to Yvie when they walked back out into the hall and spotted a tall, blonde girl and a small brunette kissing furiously in a darker, quieter corner. As Yvie opened the front door, she turned to Scarlet.

“I feel like they won’t be far behind us. Brooke must have sorted her shit out, then.”

As Scarlet grabbed one last look at the two girls against the wall, she desperately hoped Yvie was right.

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 5 years ago

Link

Storytime!

Sanders Sides Canon Divergence AU - fluff/angst - hurt/comfort - some intrigue - actually has a plot (side eyes my other fics) - largely Virgil centric - it’s about growth i guess idk

Words: 3,960 Warnings: Spiders Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Patton, Logan, (Remus in passing) Universe: Storytime! Genre: Clingy Idiocy still

Chapter 26: In Which Bishops Haunt Virgil Again

newsflash virgil is still clingy but he’s doing okay unlike everybody else

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

Virgil sat quietly next to Deceit with his hood up as Deceit talked to Remus again the next morning, waiting for whatever this meeting was where Remus got bit was to be over. Virgil leaned heavily on Deceit with the weight of exhaustion lulling him back to sleep. He couldn’t stop his eyes from fluttering periodically, though he stayed awake. He had trouble getting back to sleep this morning for some reason. Lately, he had been sleeping like a rock, but today he just groaned and rolled around after Thomas woke up.

Remus waved with a manic smile and disappeared from the room. Virgil yawned and looked up to Deceit, who pulled his hood down. Sounds came back to Virgil’s ears as he blinked slowly up to him.

“Can I stay with you today?” Virgil asked quietly and hung on to Deceit’s cloak.

“Of course, I’m completely free to lollygag around, Virgil,” Deceit said sarcastically.

“Please? I’ll be quiet. I’ll just nap for a bit or something,” Virgil pleaded hopefully. He really didn’t like being alone anymore. The idea alone made him squirm.

“Can’t you play with your other friends?” Deceit looked to him in annoyance.

“Logan’s on to something and Roman was asking too many questions. I can’t hang out in Pat’s room with him. I’m just too tired to deal with Remus right now. I just want to steer clear for a day. One day is not too bad to skip on, right?” Virgil begged with a sigh. “I don’t want to be alone all day. I know I’ll have to go back to my room later and all,” Virgil couldn’t stop the sad expression on his face from the knowledge of the inevitable and the potential of D just sending him to his room right away.

“I suppose I can work in here for now,” Deceit conceded, sounding a little frustrated, and shifted to sit against the wall on the bed. He summoned a folder and his signature quill and worked on his wildly involved business. Virgil smiled and curled up next to him, pulled his sound dampening hood over his head, and rested his head on the edge of Deceit’s lap. Virgil looked up to see a half-smile on Deceit’s face and nestled in to and finally started drifting again.

— * * * —

Patton looked longingly at the clock in the kitchen and frowned. “I guess Virgil isn’t coming to breakfast,” He said sadly, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. They had finished the food some time ago, and they were all sitting around chatting with coffees or cocoa, waiting for their weird anxiety. Roman knew he’d need to stick around to make breakfast for him, but Logan had even finished his paper and didn’t return to his room either. Roman leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

“Maybe he’s sick?” Roman supplied. “He was acting a little odd,” Roman said, feeling worried and glancing at Virgil’s regular chair.

“I doubt that Thomas has suddenly come down with some kind of mental ailment that would discombobulate Anxiety. He appears to be performing his functions just fine. Thomas is alert, mindful, and ready, to a certain extent. I believe he is just sleeping in again if the past few days are any indication. I am concerned, however, that he has been avoiding me for 2 days,” Logan said tonelessly, flipping through his newspaper.

“Maybe he doesn’t mean to? He hasn’t been avoiding us and he knows we talk to you,” Patton suggested. “We’ve been busy lately. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding,” Patton added hopefully.

“I appreciate your optimism, Patton, but I would like to talk to him, regardless,” Logan said evenly and refilled his coffee cup. “Would you wake him, Roman?”

“He just said yesterday that it was a terrible idea to wake him up,” Roman said and stayed seated with his latte.

“Virgil has a tendency to exaggerate at times. It is just part of being anxiety. I am positive you will be fine,” Logan insisted, looking annoyed.

“If it was something deters Remus of all sides, it’s probably a massive deal. You’re volunteering to come in and help me if I call, then?” Roman grumbled and put his drink down.

“That is a reasonable compromise,” Logan said, calling Roman’s bluff right away. He didn’t get why Logan couldn’t just go, other than the whole ‘avoiding him’ thing. Roman grimaced and sank down to head to Anxiety’s room.

The room was well lit, perhaps even a little sun coming through the windows. Nothing seemed out-of-place other than the fact that Virgil definitely wasn’t here. He wasn’t on the stairs, hiding in the couch cushions, not in the kitchen pantry. It was so eerily silent in there that Roman swore he could hear the spiders move. Probably Beatrice on the prowl. At least Roman hoped that Virgil didn’t have any non-pet spiders that were not as docile as Beatrice that he was hearing creep up on him. Maybe it was just the room trying to trick him. Anxiety’s room did always give him the creeps. It was no wonder Virgil enjoyed hanging out in Roman’s room. Roman kicked and pushed and dug around a little more, but it didn’t even look lived in. Virgil usually had blankets and pillows strewn around after waking up since he liked to bundle himself up. There was just one blanket folded neatly on the couch. Roman couldn’t even find a pair of headphones anywhere. Roman gave up searching for him and sunk back to the kitchen table.

“He’s not in there. It’s so empty that it doesn’t look like he had even been there recently,” Roman said, turning around to look at the stairwell. “I guess he’s in someone’s room?”

“He could also be in the mind palace,” Logan offered. Roman’s face twinged. He better not be. “That was an odd reaction to my suggestion, Roman,” Logan stated with slight suspicion, raising his eyebrow at Roman.

“I’m just worried,” Roman said dismissively. Virgil didn’t want anyone to know, and it seemed harmless to hide it. It’s not like it would change anything if Logan knew why he shouldn’t be in there. Virgil would still be missing. “He’s been very present lately, and it’s odd to not see him,” Roman said, sitting back down to work on his latte again.

“Yeah, it’s been so fun to hang out with Virgil! But maybe he’s recuperating. He has probably been pushing his social energy to the limit lately,” Patton mused with a slight smile.

“It’d make more sense if he was recuperating in his room, not in the mind palace or in somebody else’s room.” Logan corrected him.

“Maybe he’s a master of illusion and was hiding in his room!” Patton suggested excitedly.

“The only illusion I’ve seen him flaunt is somehow being comfortable and not sliding down the stairs when he lies on them,” Roman said, dismissing that idea.

“Yes, I have also seen Virgil laying upside down on the stairs. I find it somewhat unnerving that he ignores physics so brazenly,” Logan replied. “I do not believe he would be in anyone else’s room, but if you see him, please direct him gently to talk to me. I will finish the information packets in my room,” Logan said with a nod of goodbye a sunk away.

“Well, I can’t blame him for wanting to talk to Virgil and all, that but was annoying of him to make me his errand boy twice in the same five minutes,” Roman huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back on the chair.

“Oh, I doubt he meant it like that, champ. It’s only if we see him in passing,” Patton said placatingly.

“I’ll be in my room working most of the day, not passing by random side’s rooms for fun. I’m following Logan’s stupid schedule. He should know that,” Roman gestured in frustration and took another drink of latte.

“Thomas has been busy lately. I’m impressed Logan found the time to write something and the packets. I kind of thought he’d skip them this week since you two have been working more and more these past couple days. I’m surprised you’re not more tired in the evenings,” Patton said, leaning forward on his hands.

“You know me, padre, I’ve got plenty of energy,” Roman smiled knowingly and winked and Patton.

“Oh! You’re right. I forgot,” Patton giggled. “Well, I hope you take the breaks you need, anyway. Creative burn out is serious business!” Patton said seriously, tapping the table with his pointer finger.

“I’m well aware. I’ve got it under control. It’s actually nice to blow off steam with Virgil in the evenings,” Roman shrugged and crossed his legs.

“You have been seeing him at night for a few days now. You haven’t been fighting the entire time, have you?” Patton said, looking critically at Roman.

“Not the whole time,” Roman scoffed and posed with his hand to imply the implication offended him.

“You should be nicer to him,” Patton frowned.

“Trust me, Virgil usually starts it. He’s a little…” Roman considered the right word and twisted his hand in the air while he processed it. “… feral in my room,” Roman flipped his hand in the air. “Last night he tried to start a fight three times,” Roman sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh! Well, sorry for accusing you of being mean, then,” Patton said sheepishly.

“It’s fine. I started plenty of fights with him. It wasn’t an unfair assumption, and you haven’t seen him in my room before,” Roman said dismissively with a slight shrug.

“Well, our kiddo is sure full of a lot more fight than flight, lately!” Patton mused, sipping his cocoa.

“Well, unless you believe Logan’s whole… ‘avoiding him’ thing. I haven’t seen Virgil do that thing where he stiffens and runs off or anything,” Roman said, not really believing Logan’s accusation. Though Virgil was acting exceptionally weird, either way.

“As I said, It’s gotta be a misunderstanding. Virgil’s been downright pleasant lately,” Patton pouted, summoning more marshmallows into his drink.

“Well, maybe for you,” Roman laughed. “I still say he’s feral. Oh, gorgon breath, Thomas has been at the computer blanking and I didn’t notice. He got there early today,” Roman rushed to stand up. “Damnit, Logan, that’s not on the schedule! I’ve got to run, Pat,” Roman hissed, sending off his drink and standing up quickly.

“Don’t work too hard, kiddo!” Patton waved after him, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Work hard, play hard!” Roman called out with a proud grin as he sank out.

— * * * —

Deceit must have given into the pouting puppy face that Virgil learned from Patton. Instead of all the things Deceit said he was busy with today, they were playing chess on the floor in Deceit’s room with snacks and drinks Deceit had summoned. Virgil had hoped whatever Deceit had planned wasn’t so important that it needed 100% of his focus so that playing chess was okay. But Virgil was happy just to be spending time with D. He always got him and always cared for him in his own weird way.

Virgil didn’t mind if Deceit used him sometimes, honestly. It was nice to be needed. Deceit had even been more straight-forward with Virgil lately. Virgil was pretty certain Deceit did things the way he did because he didn’t want to be rejected or ignored. Virgil didn’t think it was from any kind of bad place. He could get that probably more than any other side, as a side who used to try to scare the others into listening to him. The other sides were kind of assholes to D, so he didn’t have many options. Deceit was kind of an asshole too, but it was hard to care about that in the past when he’d been helping Virgil constantly in the present. Deceit admitted he was wrong, and that was big of him. Virgil knew he hated doing that with burning and over-dramatic passion.

Virgil was lying on the ground and agonizing between two different good-looking moves, but he was pretty certain Deceit had already thought ahead and was trying to pick the best move to survive over the best move moving forward.

“Virgil, your bishop has had an opening for six turns, why do you refuse to use it?” Deceit asked, sounding somewhat baffled. He was sipping his tea cross-legged on the other side of the board and fiddling with one of Virgil’s fallen pawns in his other hand while Virgil was thinking. Virgil involuntarily winced and held his clavicle.

“The bishop doesn’t need to get items from the king or queen for special moves,” Virgil said quietly, just realizing it was a dumb thing to have been waiting for as soon as he said it. He flinched at his own stupidity and buried his face in his hands.

“We’re not playing that accursed version that Remus plays,” Deceit said, tinged in frustration.

“I… I know. My brain mixed it up, I guess,” Virgil mumbled through his fingers. “It’s not like either of us was playing like that up until that point. I would have pulled a knife on you already,” He exhaled and let go of his face.

“Yes, it’s such a magnificent idea to pull a knife on me,” Deceit said sarcastically, tossing up Virgil’s pawn and catching it.

“Well, how else could I have gotten two turns to take your knight without losing my own?” Virgil said rolling his eyes and flipping his hand out.

“That’s not chess, Virgil,” Deceit said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what to call whatever that monstrosity is,” He sounded exasperated by the whole subject.

“Fun until it’s not,” Virgil said blithely. “You’ve judged for us before, but I’ve never judged for you two, are you any good at his weird version?” Virgil asked, finally making his move. It was a bad one, Deceit had immediately taken his piece, and he wasn’t that far from checking him.

“I’m such a fan of being attacked,” Deceit said bitterly. Virgil chuckled lightly and looked up to Deceit, who looked annoyed.

“So, really good until Remus pulls out his morning star,” Virgil posited with a smirk.

“It’s not an inaccurate summation,” Deceit muttered. “I don’t understand why you want to fight with him so much, other than when your aspects eventually taint each other,”

“He’s fun to fight. I just feel like I have to around him, I get all wired and need to punch something,” Virgil explained. “It’s certainly not that I want an enemy I can actually beat, unlike the crushing weight of capitalism or something,” Virgil added bitterly.

“You don’t seem to beat Roman much,” Deceit mused with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s much more fun when he thinks he has won over me,” Virgil said with a smirk. “Just taking a page out of my favourite noodle’s book,” His head swam for a moment as he fought the effects of Deceit’s room. He had been in here all morning, and it was getting very difficult to think straight.

“Love the nickname,” Deceit said angrily, taking another one of Virgil’s pieces. Shit. He was within range of the king. “Check, darling,” Virgil scrambled for a move, he luckily still had valuable pieces that could protect the king for now.

Except for the fact that his bishops and remaining knight didn’t matter, in the end. Deceit had him beat in a few tense turns, regardless of any saving plays Virgil tried to make. He really was brutal at chess.

“Checkmate,” Deceit cooed and knocked over the king piece, the entire board disappearing right after. Virgil slumped to the floor and held his head.

“Brilliant move,” Virgil mumbled derisively. Deceit placed his hand on Virgil briefly before pulling him up to his feet.

“You need to go, Virgil,” Deceit said smoothly. Virgil pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m handling it just fine,” Virgil groaned in frustration. Deceit rolled his eyes and hugged Virgil back, and they both sank out, causing Virgil to grumble angrily as they rose into his room. He stumbled for a moment after rising, feeling a little dizzy.

“Yes, you are completely well and unaffected,” Deceit hissed, letting go of Virgil. Virgil held on stubbornly, though, partially because he wasn’t ready to be alone and partially because he was concerned he would fall over. “You don’t have to be a brat, darling. I’ll stay for a bit,” Deceit said, loosening Virgil’s grip on him with a tinge of annoyance. Virgil stumbled again when Deceit let go of his arms after pulling Virgil off of him. Deceit caught him before he fell to the floor. “Ah,” He said in understanding and carefully lead him to the couch, sitting down with him.

“Thanks a lot,” Virgil murmured as Deceit lowered them both down together. Virgil pulled himself into a ball to catch his bearings, leaning against Deceit’s shoulder on the couch. Deceit grabbed the weighted blanket off the back of the couch from his nap yesterday and draped it over Virgil, which was an impressive move with one arm. The weight was really grounding and Virgil sank into the couch and laid down on Deceit’s lap instead of fighting it any longer.

“I don’t know if any side should stay in another’s room that long,” Deceit hummed. Virgil grunted in acknowledgment, not really wanting to admit it but also not really in any state to disagree. “I would scold you for not saying anything normally, but I don’t think it counts in this circumstance,” Deceit mused. Virgil nodded in his lap, extremely grateful that Deceit understood. “I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on you next time,” Virgil cooed. Virgil looked up at him, seeing Deceit staring at a web instead of looking at Virgil. He was willing to spend more time with him even after Virgil had fucked up and let Deceit’s room get the better of him. He wasn’t even mad at him for it. Virgil sighed in relief and nestled into Deceit’s lap.

“I’m still too dizzy to do anything else, but if you want to snark at a TV show or something we could do that,” Virgil offered quietly. He watched the remote fly up from the coffee table and the TV switched on. Deceit was flipping through the choices, looking for something to watch with him. Virgil was relieved that Deceit was willing to stay while he recovered.

Deceit had watched 2 episodes and shared possibly a hundred insults at the characters with him before he turned off the TV and reached down to help pull Virgil up.

“Thanks for staying,” Virgil muttered, sitting up on the couch now and rubbing his face to focus. Deceit looked like he got hit in the face with a whole-ass eyeshadow palette. He was a great actor, though. He wasn’t shaking or looking around wildly, or really anything. He held out his hand, and Virgil took it, and Deceit pulled him into a hug. Once they broke apart, Deceit conjured a large jar.

“I require some of your fear spiders for an experiment,” He said twisting off the cap filled with holes and holding it out for Virgil. “I know they’re not quite followers but order them to listen to me,” He said evenly. Virgil looked at him in confusion for a moment, but placed his hand over the top of the jar, creating some spiders and webs for them to house inside the jar.

“I can’t make them last past Thomas waking, is that okay?” Virgil asked as he finished and Deceit twisted on the top of the jar. Deceit just nodded. Virgil placed his hand on the jar and commanded them to follow Deceit’s orders in his head.

Deceit kissed his head when Virgil pulled away and waved once as he sunk away with the jar. He wasn’t entirely sure what that was about, but he knew Remus was his test subject since their morning meetings and never minded throwing a wad full of spiders his way, in the same way Remus liked to whip out the demonic ooze often. Virgil sighed and crawled to the top of the couch to write some poetry. He needed a distraction, and it felt like it had been a while. He was partially recovered from Deceit’s room other than feeling exhausted.

Beatrice crawled onto his head while he was writing, and she argued with him about the symbolism in his poetry sometimes, but her telling him he used death too often or to switch his rhyming scheme, but that was funnier than anything else. She couldn’t even hold a pen. Though perhaps with enough effort and some tiny weights she could type on a laptop. The visual made him chuckle. They wrote together quietly. He’d have to credit her on this sonnet, or she’d throw a fit.

“Hey, Kiddo, we missed you at-Ahh!” He heard Patton say and watched him rise up, recoil suddenly, and sink back down right away. Virgil laughed pretty loudly.

“My, Beatrice, your abilities have only grown since I created you. Even I can’t make Patton run screaming,” Virgil said with a laugh. Beatrice spun around on his head proudly.

— * * * —

“He’s in his room this time,” Patton said, raising into the living room and rubbing his arms. “That giant creepy crawly was on his head!” He cried out and clung to Logan, who was working on the schedule in the recliner. Logan just sighed and pat him on the back, being slightly crushed by Patton’s hug.

“Was he doing anything odd?” Roman asked curiously, looking up from his laptop at the table. Patton released Logan finally and went to go sit on the couch. He took a deep breath of relief.

“He was sitting on the back of the couch writing in a composition notebook,” Patton said with a little shiver and summoned a blanket and wrapped himself up.

“That’s completely normal for Virgil,” Logan said. “Did you ask him if he was still going to meet us later for the story session?”

“There was a giant spider on his head, Logan, I’m lucky I made it out alive!” Patton whined and buried himself in the blankets.

“I have never seen him with a larger spider than Beatrice, and she is only slightly large for a tarantula, I don’t know if he can even conjure larger arachnids,” Logan said plainly.

“There are larger spiders than Beatrice!?” Patton screamed and sank from his spot on the couch, his blanket collapsing to the couch. Logan shook his head wearily.

“I can’t believe he remembered that creeper’s name,” Roman said, rolling his eyes and returning to the laptop. “I’ll just send a note to remind Virgil,” Roman flicked his wrist and summoned the note pad. “I’m not a big fan of that fuzzy demon either,” Roman said and flourished his hand and the note disappeared. He went back to typing and Logan waited patiently to see if there would be a response. A skull sticky floated down to his laptop. “He sent a haiku about how he wants to punch me in the face?” Roman said incredulously and extremely confused.

“That response seems more like something your brother would send,” Logan said, walking over to the table to take the note from Roman to see for himself. Roman handed it over and shrugged. It was indeed a simple haiku about how he wants to punch Roman in the face in Virgil’s handwriting. But the backside had a big checkmark. He showed Roman the check and placed it down on the table. “Well, he is informed and aware,” Logan said dismissively and returned his work.

taglist: @itsaamood-33 @elizabutgayer

#tsss #sanders sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #storytime #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #ayri writes #virgil-centric fic

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mrs-dragneel-stark-solo · 5 years ago

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Unforseen Chasm (Part 51)

Part 51 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 3608 Warnings: Language, fighting, lost control of powers OFC, reader argues with loki, heart to heart, hurt reader, feeling out of place, homesick loki, song for this part: Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93 what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You and Shannon were sitting on your beds, playing on your phones when you heard what sounded like a stampede in the hall. Both of you peered up curiously.

“What’s going on?” Shannon called out.

A young girl, Julie you think her name was, answered with excitement, “Tony Stark and Loki are fighting in the gym! Logan is referring!”

Your eyes met Shannon’s and the two of you made a mad dash for the ring as best you could. You two wanted to fly, but with the toll the transfusions were taking, that just wasn’t possible. So you scrambled along as fast as you could down the hallway to the gym.

Just as you walked in, you saw Loki land a hard punch on Tony’s jaw, sending him to the mat face down. As Loki moved toward Tony though, Tony turned and kicked him in the stomach with a hard grunt. The motion made him wheeze as he fell to his knees, gripping his stomach.

“What are you doing?!” you boomed out, your emotions flaring.

Logan upon seeing both women knew exactly what could happen so at the top of his lungs, he shouted, “Everyone OUT! I don’t want to see a single student in here right now.” His deep voice making a rumbling echo in the room.

There was a collective “aww” made by the students. A few were actually aware of the reason behind it so they helped lead the others out and back to their schedules.

“You heard the guy!” Wade puts up his macho man act on. “Scram!!” He crosses his arms and he give the students a look.

“What is wrong with you two!” Shannon yelled but the two men were too busy trying to continue fighting. “Y/N, we have to stop them they’re going to get hurt and I can’t heal them in this state I'm in. I'm not sure how much more I can see before my powers try to take over.” She looked to her friend and just as she finished her sentence, her powers (as if called upon) activated causing her to rise up into the air. Her eyes had begun glaze over a milky white then suddenly became swirls of red and purple.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, fear wrapping around you before your eyes darted to the two men. “Hey! Knock it off!” you screamed at the two. They finally heard you, both of them turning to you before their eyes traveled up to Shannon, floating in mid-air.

“Umm, boys it looks like we are in for some trouble. You better stop your fight now,” Logan said as he saw his close friend being controlled by what she was trying to get rid of.

“Looks like you two are in for a world of trouble now!” Wade grins seeing his badass of a friend get ready to do her thing. “Give it to ‘em cupcake!” He roots for her.

Knock it off Wade!” Logan gets closer to the other man and smacks him upside the head.

“Shannon!” Tony yelped when he realized that she was up in the air, unable to control what was happening.

“Y/N?” Loki said in a confused tone, eyeing you.

All you could do was stare at him. What on Earth was he doing?

“Enough! You two are acting like children,” came Shannon’s booming voice that echoed and made the lights flicker and shake from the sound. “What is wrong with you two?” Her hands were filled with two growing energies and she was ready to throw them to split the two apart.

“Shannon, sweetie, you need to get down. You're not strong enough to be doing this right now.” Tony took his gloves off and was walking towards the edge of the ring. “Babe, I’ll stop, okay? Look, I’m going to get out of the ring.”

“You shouldn’t have been in there in the first place, Anthony Edward Stark.” she was visibly upset and he knew that she only ever called him that when he’d done something wrong.

In the very same instant, Bruce was entering the room and noticed everyone looking up and he panicked seeing Shannon in mid-air when she was in no condition to be doing so. “Shannon, get down you’re going to get hurt!”

As if his words were a command, she closed her eyes and grabbed her head and just like that she was falling.

“Shannon!” came from all but Loki’s mouth as they all rushed to reach her before she hit the floor.

The first one to actually reach was Bruce and was able to catch her in time, he saw just how much doing something as being up there had drained her of any energy she might have been getting back from her rest.

“Nice catch Brucie, guess the fun's over for now,” He pats the man on the shoulder. “Let me know when she wakes up so I can see her.” Wade pulls out a sucker from his pocket and walks away.

He nods his head and looks down at Shannon. “Y/N, we need to get back to the room and check her status. I may need you to do another transfusion if necessary,” he said looking at her after making sure he had a good grip on Shannon. “Come with me. We need to hurry.”

You bit your lip. “Alright, fine, yeah, just tell me what you need.”

“Bruce, is she okay?” Tony had jumped down from the ring and was at the Dr.’s side in an instant. “Here, I’ll take her you can go ahead and get things ready.”

“No, I think you’ve done more than enough, Tony.” He frowned at the man. “Logan, go inform Hank that I need him down in the room. We need to do a complete check on her.” Without a second glance, he walked out of the room and hurried as carefully as possible to get Shannon back into her bed. “I hope you didn’t over do it, Shan, what the hell were you thinking?”

“B-Bruce?” Her voice was hoarse. “What happened? All I remember was telling Y/N something then things went black.”

“It’s okay, I’ll explain when we get back to the room, okay?”

Shannon nodded her head and she leaned it on his chest.

All four men and you had followed Bruce back to the room adjacent to the Med Bay. Just as Shannon was put back in be, Hank entered the room with the equipment and Charles soon after showed up to find out what had happened.

“Can someone please explain what occurred?” Charles looked to the men but they all seemed to avoid looking into his eyes.

“Tony and Loki were in the ring, fighting,” you explained evenly. “I think Logan arranged it. I’m not sure why they were there to begin with, but by the time we got there, they were bloodied and bruised. I think the sight upset Shannon too much and her powers overcame her and she collapsed from mid-air. Bruce caught her though.”

“Her vitals aren’t stable,” he informed everyone in the room. “The best I can tell is that she’s suffered from an attack. Something much like a heart attack or anxiety attack.”

“Logan, I presume you have something to do with this.” Charles looked over at him. “Why am I not surprised, really to these lengths you’d go.” He shook his head.

“It was better than letting these two idiots duke it out in the middle of the hall causing a commotion,” was his response. “Dr.Banner notify me when she’s woken up. I wanna say I’m sorry for causing all this.” And with that he walked out of the room.

“You got it, Logan.” Bruce tucked a strand of hair behind Shannon’s ear unaware of the look Tony was giving him. “Are we ready for a full scan, Hank?”

“Y/N,” Hank started and your eyes darted towards him as you chewed your nail. “I hate to ask this. I know you did a transfusion today, but I’m going to need another one. Her body is a wreck right now and I need some more of your power to sort her cells out. Do you think you’d be up for it?”

You nodded. “Sure.” Easily, you lifted your hand and let the power stream out of you and into your best friend. With each second, you could feel yourself getting tired, weaker, your legs were close to giving out, but she needed this. For a moment, the words of Frigga and Thor echoed in your head about needing to be in Asgard, that you drew your power from there.

Tony could see just how much of a toll this was on you. He hadn’t been around when you would do the transfusions and knowing you’re doing a second one on the same day he felt guilty. None of this would have happened if he had kept his mouth shut, but he was too frustrated with what he had seen earlier. He walked over to you and helped steady you so that you wouldn’t collapse.

“Here let me help you,” was all he said as he held you up.

“I’m okay, Tony, I can still stand, I might need help getting to my bed though.” You pointed towards where you had been sleeping lately. “Thank you though.”

“We’ll talk later, okay? You need to rest,” Tony replied and helped you to your bed. All the while Loki just stood there watching the whole thing. He hadn’t said much since he said her name in the ring.

“Thanks, Tony I look forward to our chat,” you replied. You looked over at Loki, seeing him look anywhere else but at you.

“Looks like Shannon is back down to a good level. I suggest these two women be left alone for the time being,” Hank told the other people in the room.

“Alright this should be enough for now, Y/N. Why don’t you go get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in a few hours?” Bruce suggested. He turned to Charles. “She’s stable again, since she’s had two transfusions in a day, we should wait until the next one. Her body may not be able to resist going into a semi-comatose state.”

“You’re right. We’ll give them both a longer time to recover before continuing.” Nodding his head towards everyone else, he left the room.

“I’ll let Gambit know he won’t be able to visit this afternoon so you can relax okay?” Bruce told you as he checked your vitals once you were comfortable on your bed.

“He’ll probably still show up later but it’s fine, thank you though.” You smiled at the man.

“No problem.” He walked away letting them get situated.

Before you could sleep though, you needed a word with your boyfriend. You pushed him out of the room and in the hall, closing the door behind you.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” you demanded of Loki, not hiding the anger in your tone.

“Me? I could ask that of you. I thought you were bedridden?” he accused angrily.

“I am,” you insisted. “Who told you I’m not?”

“I saw it with my own eyes. You were holding, I don’t know who,” he informed.

“Remy? I was dancing with Remy. Is that a crime?” you asked. “Besides, what the hell does that have to do with beating the shit out of Tony?”

He looked off, pressing his lips together. You knew that look, he was trying to calm himself before he answered. “I saw you with that man and I… Stark and I may have exchanged words right after.”

You shake your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You have to be joking. After everything I’ve done? After risking my life, after almost dying for you, after sacrificing living a normal life for you, do you still think I would love someone else?!”

His eyes turned hard as they focused on you. “And you’re really that blind? I’m not worthy of your love. I’ve nearly gotten you killed. Had you imprisoned. Because of me, you’ve been outcasted by all your friends and family. It makes sense for you to love anyone else but me.”

All you could do was shake your head before quietly confirming, “Yeah, it does.”

With that, you turned on your heel to race to your room, your heart racing and tears threatening.

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

Loki stood in the hallway dumbfounded, questions if maybe his self destructive ways had finally come back to bite him in the ass. Just as he picked up his ego off the floor and headed out the door, Tony approached him and slapped his back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the testosterone out of our system, what do you say we go get drinks?”

Loki stopped, completely stunned. “You honestly want to go out on a social outing with me?”

“Sure, why not? Not like either of us are wanted here right now. Come on, I’ll drive,” Tony offered in his usual casual laid back way.

Loki seemed incredulous, but after the unusual day he’d already had, he succumbed and climbed into the flashy sports car, and he actually admired it.

Before too long, they wound up at a bar far on the outskirts of the city. Tony didn’t want either one of them to be recognized and he knew if he went anywhere in Manhattan or the surrounding boros, they’d be spotted in an instant. He wanted to be left alone for once.

“So, Reindeer Games, what happened to make you want to fight?” he asked as he sipped a cherry merlot. “Something happened with you and Y/N/N?”

“Not directly,” Loki muttered as he toyed with the full glass in front of him. “I…She’s dancing with some man. I don’t know who he is. She shouldn’t be dancing with anyone but me. I thought she was bedridden. She looked so…” He stopped, getting angry, and felt odd telling Tony all of this. “Why do you care anyway? It just gave you an excuse for us to be violent with one another again.”

“Hah! If I knew any better I'd say you're jealous of that guy, but fear not, he won’t do anything.” reassured him. “I won’t say that I care, because I don’t, at least not one hundred percent.” He stopped to phrase it right. “But for the sake of Shannon and Y/N things are tough.”

“I realize that, Stark, thank you for the incredible insight,” he snapped and rolled his eyes. “How do you know he won’t do anything?” he suddenly questioned. “They looked fairly comfortable to me. Remy…” he mused with distaste. “That’s what she called him. I think he’s her friend from childhood. So yes, if you must know, Stark, I am jealous. She’s been here for weeks and I haven’t seen her. Then when I do come to visit, she’s dancing closely with...him.” He scowled. “She looked so… comfortable. So happy…”

“And why on earth did you decide today of all the times you could’ve come to see her, did you choose today?” He still couldn’t understand that. “She’s asked for you constantly, as for Remy they’re like brother and sister.” He took another sip. “They only ever had each other when they were orphans so it's normal for her to feel comfortable around him, they also happen to share the same powers and he lives at the mansion.” He went on explaining their relationship to try to ease Loki about the situation.

Loki’s jaw clenched. “You’re right, I know, I just…” He tried to keep his temper in check. “Wait, why were you angry today? You were looking for a fight more than I was. What had you so bothered?” he questioned, turning the tables. He knew it was silly to be jealous, but how could he help it? You were free now, in more ways than one and you could, if you so chose, find a different mate than him. You were no longer confined to a cell with Loki. You could very well leave him in pursuit of another now.

“Well...I.. listen, we’re still talking about you and Y/N don’t try changing the subject,” he tried to push it back to him, but he knew the other man would continue to ask, so he told him anyways. “With Shannon having been at the mansion so much, Bruce took it upon himself to become her nurse of sorts and I found them enjoying some time out in the gardens. She was relaxed in his lap listening to what he was saying and if what I’m thinking is true, then Banner has grown feelings for her.” He shook his head never would he have thought he’d be here with the god having a touching moment of honesty.

“Ah, I see. So the green eyed monster has hit us both, then hmm?” Loki noted, a little amused. “ As for you and Shannon, I’ve never seen a woman so enthralled by anyone. She puts up with all of your… you-ness, and still comes back to you every day, happy. I don’t know either of them too terribly well, but I don’t think either would ever set out to hurt you. People can’t help how they feel, and if they’re both ignoring said feelings for your sake, which I assume and think they are, then you have nothing to fear. Shannon is your wife. I was at the wedding. It was… lovely, for lack of a better word. Your love doesn’t have a threat.” He played with the glass some more, still not drinking. “I am just worried… I’ve outstayed my welcome in her life, if that makes any sense.”

To be honest, it felt good to talk to someone. Thor wasn’t around, and he couldn’t confess how he felt to you, because you’d just assure him you still loved him. So it was nice to vent to someone other than you, confide in a new person… a new confidant.

“You honestly think that? That your time has expired? You couldn’t be more wrong she’d be devastated if you left.” He looked at the man next to him. “There’s nothing she wouldn’t do to prove to you that you’re all she needs, but there’s been so much that you haven’t even had a chance to digest it all because I'm assuming this is all too much, right?”

“You can say that again,” he muttered. “I just wish… I wish we didn’t have to be here. Asgard is our home. Despite my feelings towards Odin, Thor is still my brother and Y/N’s parents are from there. She’s from there! I guess I just always thought we’d return home to Asgard one day. Not stay here… But it’s clear she enjoys her life on Earth.” He twisted the glass between his long fingers, spinning it on the bar slowly. “I suppose for the first time together, we want two different things.”

“Well why not take a break from being here and go back home?” He figured some time away would help clear his mind. “Talk with Y/N and see if you two want to go there for a little vacation and come back when you're ready?” He turned to the bartender and asked for one more glass of wine.

“You’re suggesting I tell Y/N I want to leave her home, and go back to mine? Won’t that send the wrong message?”

“Well not if you dont explain why,tell her you miss Asgard and your mother because I'm sure you do.” He shook his head. “She'd like to go visit too is my bet.” He raised an eyebrow.

Loki conceded with a sigh. “I may do that, and if she doesn’t want to come back with me, then perhaps I should go back on my own, just for a little while.”

“There you go! Let me know what gets decided and I’ll get the paperwork ready and approved.” He clapped the dark haired man. “How long would ya like to be out for? Granted I can't give you more than a few weeks due to your probation.”

“Give me however long is allowed,” he requested. The more the thought on it, the more he wondered if perhaps you really were better off without him. Tony hadn’t explicitly said it, but he got the notion in Loki’s head that maybe you belonged here on Earth, and he belonged on Asgard. He didn’t want to leave you. It would kill him, but he wanted you to have a chance at a happy life, and that wasn’t possible with him in the picture. You’d said yourself that it made sense to love anyone else but him. So this was him, doing the noble thing for once, and stepping aside so you could have a good, normal, happy life with Remy, or whomever you chose. “I never thought I’d say this, Stark, but thank you… for the drink, the talk, and what the hell, even the fight.” He let a warm smirk creep onto his face as he glanced sideways at Tony.

“You know what? I could say the same thing for you. Looks like we can agree on something.” He laughed. Who would have thought that after everything that has happened he could sit down with the guy and talk like old friends. “You want to get one more drink and get back to the city?” He smirks back at him.

“Sounds good, Tin man,” Loki said, trying to hide his smile, and failing miserably.

Unforseen Chasm Tag list- @reigningqueenofwords @oldfreakything @adefectivedetective @dontbetooobvious

Tag list- @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @winchester-writes @winchesterenthusiast @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @sammysbuttcheek @misz-adrii @sandlee44 @womanxofletters @natsuccs @childishhoebinoo @expecteddifferent @girl-next-door-writes @fanaticfanfiction @dakotapaigelove @sassy-spn-knight-of-hell @reigningqueenofwords @oldfreakything

Marvel: @reigningqueenofwords @flowerbunbunny @zelda2248 @misz-adrii

#unforeseen chasm #unforseen chasm #loki x reader #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #tony stark #tony stark fic #tony stark x ofc #Charles xavier #hank #logan #wade wilson #deadpool #mentions of remy #bruce banner #mentions of frigga #queen of asgard

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titconao3 · 5 years ago

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10 writer things

Tagged by @beguilewritesstuff !

so to preface this, i don’t really use the word “writer” for myself, it feels too... i don’t know, presumptuous? but if it’s the name of the tag meme, then i guess i’ll roll with it.

1. What’s your favourite genre to write? To quote that Tumblr post i’ve seen do the rounds: “and they had naps” ^_^ i guess i like having a mix of angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, and if it gets a bit long maybe some action or something resembling a plot? (well, that’s the idea at least...)

2. Do you pull inspiration from real life, or do you pull things from other books/fanfiction you’ve read? Eh, both. And the source material, of course. And chats with fandom friends!

3. Do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things? One-shots that sometimes grow way too long, and also sometimes turn into series (but each instalment has to be self-contained; if it feels like i’d be publishing a WIP then it stays on the hard drive).

4. Do you prefer to write description or dialogue? Hard to say... i generally write 3rd person limited pov, so depending on the character and circumstances... i like playing with the way they lie to themselves, or are oblivious to things; whether that goes through dialogue or description, well... ::shrugs::

5. Favourite fic/book of all time? Umm... i can’t say, sorry!

6. Favorite Trope? ^ see that “naps” thing? But really... probably h/c? i like mixing up fluff and angst, or h/c and humour; at least that’s the goal. As for specific tropes... there are many i’m not into, tbh, but sometimes i’ll still give them a try if i can put my own spin on it and avoid what i usually don’t like about it.

7. Are you the kind of person to work on more than one WIP? Do i have several unfinished fics on my computer? Yes. Do i have WIPs online? No. i do have a series that i want to wrap up, but each story more or less works on its own and i angst a lot about going back to finish it. It’s a few thousands words in and i know what i want to happen, but i’ve been blindsided too often by fics that suddenly balloon into giant things and i’d like to not get caught into a giant story that i can’t see the end of, for once. Just something i could finish quickly, put out, and maybe get some feedback on just as quickly, to buoy me. (Giant fics do get some feedback, but i’ll be honest: putting out tens of thousands or words and getting a handful of comments, however nice and cherished they are, can be frustrating sometimes. i won’t say it’ll make me stop ficcing, but it certainly makes me go, eh, why bother often enough given the grief they can give me.) But i don’t owe anyone anything as a ficcer, and no one owes me anything as a content producer.

8. How long have you been writing? i wrote my first fics in the early aughts, and i guess i tried to write a few things before that, but i’ve only been putting stuff up on AO3 semi-regularly for a few years.

9. Do you tend to write more in the morning, afternoon, or evening? Like the rest of my schedule, i have no schedule ^_^

10. Do you prefer to post and update your WIP chapter by chapter or wait until it’s 100% complete before sharing it? As a reader, i don’t do WIPs because, among other things, i prefer to check the ending, i like to immerse myself in a fic without forgetting half the details because i’m reading it in bits... so i don’t want to inflict what i don’t like on anyone who’s reading my stuff. So, i only publish finished fics. Besides, i keep going back, adding details, tweaking a thing so it fits best the overall fic, etc; posting something unfinished gives me cold sweats. Of course, it very probably means i don’t get as many comments, as much cheering as posting bit by bit would (or maybe it means people are less likely to forget about the fic and stop reading between chapters, who knows?).

Tagging: whoever’s in the mood!

#tagging #tagged #tagging thing #tagging game

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georgeharris0n · 6 years ago

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Blisters On His Fingers- Chapter 1 “Eskimo”

Rated: PG-13

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Ringo Starr/George Harrison (Starrison)

Chapters: 1/25

Plot Summery: George can’t help but watch Rory Storm and The Hurricanes play, but John and Paul know he just has his eyes for their drummer. Ringo has some problem with his hands, and George may just see his perfect opportunity to talk to the handsome drummer. (Hamburg Beatle Era) Note: Based on @cirilee ‘s adorable Starrison art!!!! Here Check it out! You won’t be disappointed, they are precious. :’)

I hope this fic isn’t an absolute mess- just bare with me.

The thick air and beat of the band had George completely out of his head. They weren’t the best, George knew him and the lads were much better, and could really bring down the house, but that didn’t mean he wanted to miss a second of that steady tempo. It was past midnight now, and the set was nearly done, but George ought to have left by now. Their set had been finished hours ago, but here he was, sitting at the furthest table he could find watching a particular pink suited fellow bash away at the skins. The back beat, his quick wrists, the way his head bobbed back and forth, messy Teddy curls bouncing about with that cute white streak on the sides-

“George!”

A startlingly familiar voice broke George’s attention.

“Geez Paul! What do you want?

George turned to his bandmate, trying very hard to not to shove him off the chair beside him. He was being way too distracting. Too distracting from the beat of those heavy drums, either that or the beat of his heart at the moment.

“Geo, I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. It’s getting late, we need to head back to the theater for some sleep.”

“But, can’t we-”

“Sorry George, but it’s getting real exhausting watching you gush over the Hurricane’s drummer, and y’know Paulie needs his beauty sleep.”

George stared wide eyed, opposite of Paul was John lounging with his boots rucked on the table. Had he really forgotten they were both here?

“We usually don’t mind it Geo, but you’ve done this same thing the past two weeks, and you haven’t tried once to talk to Ringo.” Paul added, shoving John’s boots off the table, and standing up to look down sympathetically at the young guitarist.

George felt his throat go dry. He hoped that the other lads hadn’t noticed, but he supposed it was strange now that he thought about those two weeks.

“I don’t know w-what you’re both on about. I don’t have a thing for him! I just appreciate his… drumming that’s all. He’s 10 times better than Pete is.” George figured he could snipe about Pete considering he wasn’t here anyhow. George definitely saw Ringo as a superior drummer, and took plenty of opportunities to point it out, though the lads may think he has other motives for it, he really saw Ringo’s talent for drumming, not just for… well, Ringo.

“Sure you do Georgie, and I’m sure you’d get to appreciate a lot more than just his drumming, if you stopped starin’ at him, and tried talking to him. Alone.” John smirked, now standing beside Paul who was sporting a very uncomfortable glare John’s way.

“What John means to say is, maybe you could give it a try, huh? Just give it a chance? You clearly fancy- or um… appreciate him, so why not at least try?” Paul affirmed with an encouraging smile.

“You both act like we’ve never spoken before or something! We see them every week after all.” George murmured, running out of excuses. It was true that the infamous Beatles knew Rory Storm and The Hurricanes. They all occasionally shared drinks or chats between sets, but it was true. George hadn’t spoken with Ringo alone with out someone else facilitating the conversation around them as a group.

“Well then! Guess we’ll leave you to it then! Paul and I are going to go get some well needed shut eye, but don’t you come home until you’ve figured out what little drummer boy’s favorite type of snog is.” John teased, while he tugged on Paul jacket sleeve who looked almost like he had half a mind to stay with George if it meant not having to hear anymore of John’s lewd banter on the walk back to their crummy sleeping arrangements.

The two left a wide eyed wreck at the table by himself. George knew from listening to each gig that the band would be done after this one last song. There was no way George was going to be able to do it. He was already petrified by John’s teasing. If he fucked this up, they’d know as soon as they saw him. The embarrassment would be plastered on his face.

No, after this last song, I’m leaving. No more of this.

Of course, it was hard to know if that were true. Considering George could melt watching Ringo hammer on those drums for the last number, a particularly loud one with a crushing drum beat. George hadn’t recognized it from his last visits, so it must have been a new edition to the Hurricane’s repertoire.

If anything George liked it a lot, he liked seeing the drummer smile as he hit the symbols with fever, clearly energized by the feel of the new song, even in the dead of night. It only made it even more disappointing when the song ended, and the band already started to disperse from the stage.

Once again, George was going to leave regretfully. He almost wished it didn’t have to end, and that he could stay and watch Ringo play forever.

George stood up from the back table, and was ready to make a beeline for the door when he heard a small familiar voice back at the stage.

“Aw shucks…”

He glanced for barely a second, and knew right away it was Ringo. He was looking down at his palms from the side of the stage. They must have been aching from those heavy drum sets of the night, especially with that last number being so raucous.

George can’t be sure where it came from, but before he could get even get to the door, he found himself sneaking away to the back of the bar counter.

It was a bit messy, but behind countless bottles of old beer, was a familiar first aid kit. A ratty white box, probably standard issue for the establishment. He remembered Paul borrowed it from the barkeep after John busted his nose in a typical bar fight. That had been real messy, John’s blood was still stained on the floor boards, nasty business that had been.

He shook away the thought, and quickly looked for something to help. Rummaging past old dried bandaids, and some empty disinfectant. George got a hold of a roll of untouched wrapping bandages. Once in hand, he took a quick peek over the counter. Ringo was alone right where George last saw him. The place was practically empty, save for the bartender and the other Hurricanes having after show drinks.

George straightened his shoulders, took a few breaths, and quickly checked his reflection on the nearest bottle of stale liquor. George ran his fingers through the tuff of hair tall upon his head making sure he didn’t look like a complete mess . With shaking hands, he gave himself one last glance, and prepared for the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Ringo sat about on a red stool, still having a look at his calloused palms. George had to admit, he looked cute, even in a dirty shit club like this. George sucked in his next breath, strode over to the handsome drummer, and pulled up a stool beside him. George attempted to give a suave smile, but quickly dissipated when he met eyes with his subject of interest.

“Hey there George! Whatcha got there?”

George went mute for a solid five seconds. That’s it. No words. He forgot how to use his vocal chords.

You daft git!

If the fellas could see him now. A fool, that’s right, a bleeding fool. Can’t even talk, doesn’t even know what to say.

“Uh..George?”

“-Thought you could use a hand.” There, he did it. A bit late, but he did it.

Might have cut him off too, but let’s just ignore that for now.

George, now finally catching up with reality pulled the end of the bandage tape.

“I mean- you’re hands bothering you?”

Ringo smiled, then looked at his palms again. “Just a few blisters, you don’t have to…”

“No really, it’s no trouble, you really were gear on those drums tonight! It’s the least I could do Ritchie.”

Ritchie? Why would you call him that? You don’t even know if he likes that? What are you-

Shaking away his inner monologue, Geo took Ringo’s palm into his hands, and started wrapping it up.

Ringo was watching George as he cared for him, he looked rather comfortable. Legs outstretched a tad. With a calm… almost endearing expression. George figured it was just his tired eyes from the long gig. Those eyes, looking now, were even more blue up close. Bluest eyes he’d ever seen alongside those drooping lids. George tried to avoid them, he wanted to make sure his wrap on Ringo had a firm hold. But they were so pretty…

“So, who’s the bird?”

All the way from left field, was the most confusing question Ringo could’ve asked. George’s eye squinted a bit, and his head tilted as if trying to find this mysterious “bird”.

“Bird?”

Face gone red, Ringo looked flushed, and slowly took his bandaged hand back. “ Oh! I just assumed- that, um… I mean, you’ve come to every gig these few weeks. I figured you might have your eyes on a girl.”

“I- no! No, girl, I mean- I don’t fancy a girl. N-no girl.” George stammered, reaching for Ringo’s other palm. Ringo seemed to relax at the statement, and allowed Geo to continue the wrap. George was only now aware of how close the two had gotten. He wondered if Ringo could hear his heart beating like it was, or if he was counting the seconds until Geo was finished and could leave.

“Almost done, promise.”

“Not too quickly I hope.” Ringo quipped with a toothy grin. George about swooned. Here he was with Ringo Starr. The lads would have field day if they saw him right now. Saw how smiley he was, or knew how much his cheeks hurt from it.

“Trust me, this is probably the highlight of my week.” George chuckled, clearly getting more courageous. Ringo somehow made it so easy, he was calm, collected, and that goofy grin was real easy on the eyes, as was everything else about the fellow. Despite Ringo being older than him, he didn’t feel like a child like he did with John and Paul sometimes. He was 19 now, not some kid, and Paul was barely any older than him anyhow. What if Ringo did see him as some kid though? George had a young face after all. Ringo was scruff n’ruff lookin’. He and the boys were even scared of him at one point before actually having the pleasure meet him.

George was nearly done, and with another quick look he noticed those pretty grey streaks on Ringo’s temples. Without thinking, George’s hand reached up to the side of Ringo’s cheek, and gently smoothed the temple streak down. Ringo flinched, not moving away, and George was just now realizing what his hand was doing. He didn’t move though, he couldn’t, he wasn’t quite sure what Ringo was thinking, or what he himself was either.

Ringo was so flustered, but the hand by his cheek and temple was so… tender, that he couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

The bandage roll fell to the floor. George’s other hand came to rest on Ringo’s lower jaw, his index finger traced the softness of his skin. He could feel Ringo’s breath exchange with his own, and gently he saw the hooded blue eyes of the drummer he so admired all these weeks.

“T-these make you look real handsome y’know.” It wasn’t really a question, just some of those weeks of frustration, and gawky coming out in the open. Geo was barely keeping it together, but he’d come this far, and Ringo seemed to be… comfortable, with all his touches that is.

Those teddy curls, and those parted lips. His eyes rested on them, and he could feel his cheeks blush. He didn’t want to ruin it, this atmosphere filled with tension, he hesitated, but those blue eyes drew him in, and soon his own closed, and he pressed his lips softly onto the other lad’s. There was no pull away, and they pressed on, testing the feeling, relishing it, actually. It was unbelievably gentle. Ringo’s lips were so soft on his, and could feel him smiling into it too.

George felt Ringo’s hands rest on his seated waist. He could feel the stubbling beard on the drummer’s chin tickle his own, causing a fit giggle to escape his mouth. They drew back, now both red faced, and clearly awe struck. Ringo leaned forward, and rested his forehead on George’s, still sporting that smile that had just rested on his very own lips. Geo could feel a chuckle in his throat. He should have done this much sooner. Had he known this would have resulted with a kiss like that…

“It’s you Ritchie.” George lamented.

“Hmm, me?” Ringo murmured, still dazed, trying to wrap his mind around that kiss…

“You’re the reason I’m here. Every night I mean, I love to watch you drum, and- I was just too scared to talk to you without the lads around.” George now moved his cupped hands from Ringo’s face. Allowing these confessions to come out in the open.

“You… like to watch me drum?” Ringo said.

“Well yes, but not really, I like… to see you.” George quickly avoided Ringo’s eyes, ringing his hands together in his lap as he scooted away slightly. George couldn’t believe he’d just told Ringo that. It sounded so stupid for him to say out loud, and Ringo probably thought he was a creep, or something. George thought he ought to just leave. He sounded pathetic-

George felt a finger hooked under his chin, gently turning his head to meet with fond eyes, and once again breaking his train of thought.

“Well, I’m right here aren’t I? Might as well have a look.”

George almost wanted to pinch himself. This was like a dream he once had, of course with less open mouth kisses on his neck… and cake, he remembered there was a cake somewhere. Seemed like a good cake, chocolate maybe? Does a Ringo like chocolate? Should he ask? Maybe he should? It would be a little off topic to say the least. Maybe he should ask about those kisses? Probably not- that would would be a little forward of him. Maybe he’ll just go with the cake.

“Gosh, looks like the bands’ left.” George broke from his recounting to turn back at the bar. Ringo was right, Rory and the gang seemed to have already hightailed it out of here without im’. It was rather secluded back here, definitely a darker spot in the place. The bartender himself was far to busy sweeping away behind the counter to even notice the two of them settled in the back.

“You probably should be off then, I still got to pack up me drums.” Ringo said standing from the stool.

George, though disappointed at the idea of leaving, felt pretty exhausted. He wished he could fall asleep right here beside Ringo but- well, this place is filthy, so not exactly the most ideal spot to pass out beside the lad you fancy.

“You don’t need any help with those?” George yawned, trying desperately to extend the time he had with Ringo as much as he could.

Ringo chuckled. “No, you go on, and get some sleep. I’ve got it. But-”

Ringo shuffled a bit, and he cleared his throat. “Will I see you again tomorrow?”

George felt his mouth open agape. Tomorrow! He wanted to see him again? Him? George Harrison? Tomorrow- wait.

“You don’t have a gig tomorrow.” George said, clear confused to how Ringo could forget he wouldn’t even be playing tomorrow.

“I know, but… will I see you?”

Oh. OH-

George smiled the dumbest smile he had ever smiled EVER.

“YES- I mean! Yes, yes I’d love to see you tomorrow.” George gushed. John was right, he was gushy wasn’t he? Who cares, Ringo Starr just may just asked him on a date, how would he not be gushy?

“Great! I’ll see you then Georgie.” Ringo quirked his lip up, and gave him a wave with a bandaged hand.

Georgie, he called me Georgie, that’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.

Walking out the bar entrance onto the street, George was already fantasizing of what he was going to tell John and Paul when he burst into-

Oh, wait. One last thing.

He sprinted back like mad through the bar door, and straight to Ringo and his drum kit.

“Ringo! One last thing, please don’t ask why, just know John is an absolute pain in my arse- what’s your favorite type of… kiss?” George could practically die, but the confused look on Ringo’s face faded changing into a mischievous grin.

Before he knew it Ringo’s hand slid behind his lower back, and they were pulled flush together. George gasped at the suaveness of the motion, and stared straight into those blue hooded eyes. Suddenly, Ringo leaned up to meet Geo on his tippy toes, and sweetly nuzzled his nose against George’s, then promptly pulled away with a cheeky wink, leaving a gaping George barely standing on his feet at Ringo’s answer.

“Eskimo.”

Read Chapter 2 here!

#starrison #Ringo Starr #George Harrison #beatles fic #cirilee #starrison fic #geo reaLLy likes Ringos blue eyes #ringo gets flirty at the end

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