#he was. such an unbelievably Bad partner . like i still get hives thinking about it lmao

[waitinqroom]

thinking about when i had a boyfriend but before he was my boyfriend and we were just talking i tried to tell him about how this one girl led me on really badly (i still have a buncha posts on here from fall 2021 about liking her, lol) as friends confiding in friends . but then after i told the story he tried to convince me that she didnt actually lead me on and i was just delusional

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 7

Hello, hello! Time for a new chapter of Fireheart! :) Thank you to everybody that’s been liking, sharing, and leaving lovely comments! Means the world to me! I promise I will make the master list today to be able to find all the chapters easier n_n

CHAPTER 7

Pretending to be a normal teen

Celaena decided on an inconspicuous entrance to the party: jumping over the tall back fence of Dorian’s residential House and landing around an area with few people. She showed up in the backyard as if materializing out of thin air. She knew there was no point sneaking in, and that she could have just used the front door as everybody else did, but she wasn’t like everybody. It was thrilling to do things her own way, and especially to sneak past security without being seen. It was also good practice for a possible future.

Nehemia found her almost instantly, showing up by her side with two red plastic cups in her hands as if she knew she was about to arrive.

“I’ve been looking for you, my friend,” she said happily as she passed her over one of the drinks. “How long have you been here for?”

“Just a little while,” Celaena smiled.

“Dorian’s parties are always the best,” Nehemia replied. “I’ve been here for a while myself,” she said casually as she wrapped an arm around Celaena's shoulders.

Her body went stiff automatically, and she had to make herself relax into the touch. She was so unused to people being nice that she even wondered if all girls treated their friends like that.

“What do people normally do here?” She asked, and noticing Nehemia’s raised eyebrows, she corrected herself. “I mean, are there any particular games you play in Rifthold or anything I need to be aware of to fit in?”

“You’d fit in even if you didn’t want to,” Nehemia replied, sounding almost a little sad. “But no, there’s nothing special here. The bees normally drink a bit and dance, except during the season, when they stop drinking in order to stay in shape, some of them do sometimes indulge in some other… forms of intoxication, but most people here are clean,” she said, looking away from her and into the house.

Celaena looked at Nehemia’s thin brows lowering and wondered why this girl was so worried about those kinds of things. She knew for a fact that drug and alcohol abuse had skyrocketed in the lower levels in the past few years. She knew about it from third-party experiences and things she had seen in dark alleys and dodgy basements. She had seen the effects some of those drugs had on the young kids that spent their nights on the streets, looking for their next fix. She wasn't surprised to hear it had made it to the upper levels too. 

“Do you ever… you know?” Celaena asked, being a little more direct than she normally would be.

“No, I hate that shit!” Nehemia snapped as she let go of Celaena’s shoulder and wrapped that same arm around her own torso. Deciding not to push the matter, and feeling a little bad about upsetting the only girl that had tried to befriend her, Celaena decided to get out of her comfort zone to cheer Nehemia up.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go inside and see if there’s any dancing going around.”

Nehemia’s dark eyes lit back up like two opals shining under the moonlight. 

“I’d love to dance!” She said happily, drowning the remaining of her drink and tossing the cup into a nearby bin.

If the yard was packed with groups of students talking, drinking, and playing, the inside of the house was even fuller. The furniture from the massive living room had been pushed to the walls, where a few people were lounging on the couches. And in the middle, there was a big dance floor where most of the cheerleaders were dancing, their arms in the air, red plastic cups in their hands. 

Nehemia and Celaena joined the throng of girls and the few boys on the made-up dancefloor, swaying to the rhythm of the music. A few eyes darted their way, and after a moment there were guys asking to dance with them. Hands were wrapping around their waists and bodies were brushing against them from all sides. The music, the lights, the faint smell of smoke, it was almost intoxicating; and Celaena felt like she was in the middle of a disco. Even if just for a fraction of a second, she forgot all about her worries, her mission, her secrets, and she let her body get lost to the notes and pulses running through her body.

She was so lost in the music, that she didn’t notice Sam dancing by her side until he wrapped an arm around her waist. She snapped her eyes up to him, and pulled on a playful smile, telling herself it was for the crowd around them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Cortland?” she whispered in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear her over the music.

Sam put both of his hands in her waist and followed her movements before leaning closer and whispering in her ear.

“Apologizing. And I thought this was the best way to start out a real-life relationship, you know? A way for people to see that we are.. getting to know each other. You won’t be able to avoid me at school anymore,” he said, making her heart leap in annoyance.

“You are unbelievable,” she said to him, not worrying about whispering anymore.

“And you are a fantastic dancer,” he said, loud enough for the few people around them to hear him. He had the biggest smile on his face, a little dimple showing on one side, which melted Celaena’s barriers in an almost imperceptible way.

There was nothing she could do to get away while being in front of so many people, so she kept dancing, pretending that she wasn’t too interested in the guy in front of her. But at the same time, not showing her contained anger through any of her movements.

When the song ended, Dorian approached them, showing up from in between the crowd.

“Could I have the next dance?” he asked, shoving Sam to the side lightly with a shoulder and boring into Celaena’s eyes. Sam huffed, and stood his ground, but didn’t say a thing.

After looking back and forth between them, Celaena fanned herself with a hand and pretended to be exhausted.

“Actually,” she said, “I need a breather, Nehemia?” she asked as she turned around to look for her new acquaintance. “Keen on some fresh air?”

“Sure! Let’s go,” the girl replied as she grabbed her long dreads with both hands and tried to tie them up into a bun on top of her head. “It’s so hot in there,” she said as she pulled a red silk band off her wrist and secured her messy bun with it.

Both girls sat on the grass, their legs stretched forwards as they leaned on their elbows. Celaena’s feelings were jumbled as she realized she really did like the girl sitting next to her, and she hoped for a moment that she was under different circumstances. There was no way she could start a friendship based on so many lies, and this girl didn’t even know her real name to start with.

“Oh, there comes your new team,” Nehemia said, taking her out of her daydream. Only a second later, Lysandra was standing in front of them, a few more cheerleaders trailing behind her.

“Enjoying the party?” The queen bee asked.

“We are,” both of the girls sitting on the grass replied at the same time.

“Just keep your drinking on the down-low,” Lysandra said looking at Celaena. “You should take care of your body.”

“Sure thing, I don’t drink much anyway.” Celaena leaned back further, looking up at the sky.

She knew she was meant to get involved with Adarlan’s cheering bees, but she wasn’t feeling it at the moment. Truth was, she was really enjoying Nehemia's company. And Lysandra sounded cocky and stuck up, and she didn’t want to spend any time with her outside of practice if she could avoid it.

“Sweet,” she heard Lysandra say in a nonchalant tone. “Will see you ‘round.” The queen bee walked away with the rest of the hive trailing behind her. The two following closely behind and holding hands were Thea and Kaya, a clear example that opposites attract each other. Thea’s pale skin contrasted against Kaya’s golden tan, and while the first one had straight ash-blond hair that brushed her tailbone, the second one had dark auburn curls, which barely reached her shoulders. Thea’s eyes were the darkest shade of brown, but they glistened whenever she looked into her partner’s baby blue eyes.

The other two to the back were Briar and Imogen, two sophomores that had made the team during tryouts as well as herself. Briar seemed like a nice girl, with kind blue eyes that popped like bright lights now that her hair was as dark as Nehemias’. Celaena thought it bold that she had dyed her natural ash-blond hair, and she almost liked the girl for showing her bravery like that. Imogen on the other hand was a mystery. She had entered as a base, and the skinny girl surely was strong. What puzzled her the most though, were her midnight eyes that seemed to hide so many secrets; it didn’t help that she rarely smiled.

Celaena watched as they all walked away to the opposite end of the yard, where Lysandra wrapped her arms around Aedion’s neck as the cheers joined the team.

“Keen on some more dancing?” She asked standing up and reaching a hand down to help the girl by her side to her feet.

“I’m always keen on dancing,” Nehemia replied with a huge smile.

The music was still blasting inside, and as soon as they made it through the glass doors, the volume seemed to double. They went straight to the middle of the dance floor, where a few familiar faces were gathered. She could see Dorian in the middle of a big crowd as he danced with a blond girl that she didn’t think she knew. As soon as his eyes found her, he made his way over slowly as he danced with everybody that he ran into.

“You’re back,” he said as he stood close to her, their bodies swaying in unison. “I still owe you that cocktail if you’re keen,” he said with a grin.

“The one with my name on it?” She asked, mindlessly biting her lip.

“Come on,” Dorian said, grabbing her hand and leading them out of the crowd. She brushed Nehemia’s arm on her way towards the kitchen, letting her know she’d be back soon.

As they stepped into the open plan kitchen, Celaena wondered if there was a single room in the house that wasn’t crowded. There was a couple making out in a corner, a few guys standing around the island in the middle trying to figure out how to connect a keg, and a bunch of girls by the doors that led to a deck, their heads together in gossip.

“What does this cocktail have in it?” She asked Dorian as he found an empty space on the bench and started grabbing a few bottles of spirits and looking through them.

“Well, you’ll have to stick around to find out,” he replied with a grin.

He grabbed a tall glass out of a cabinet and filled it up to the brim with crushed ice. Then he signaled for her to stay where she was, and went out of the room, coming back a moment later with a bottle of aged whiskey.

“That looks extremely expensive,” she pointed out.

“It’s from my father’s collection, so yes, it is, but I needed something just like you. Refined, classy, yet a bit… what is the word I’m looking for?”

“Aged? Are you saying I'm old?” Celaena joked.

“No, not aged,” Dorian said, containing his laughter. “Peated,” he concluded.

Celaena raised her eyebrows at him and smirked. Peated wasn’t a bad word to define her, and she wondered how Dorian could have read her so well so quickly. There was definitely a lot of smoke and ash in her inner self. Dorian poured a measure of the whiskey into the glass, and then laughed to himself.

“My father would kill me if he saw me mixing one of his favorite whiskeys with anything at all, but trust me, this beverage is going to be fantastic, and just like you,” he said.

He walked to the fridge and came back with a can of cream soda, making Celaena lift her brows again. It was even her favorite brand. He filled up half the glass, and then added some soda water until the glass was almost full. After that, he added a splash of raspberry syrup, looking up at her he added, “you seem like a raspberry kind of girl, and there’s certainly a kind of sweetness to you.” She bit her tongue not to say anything and had to make a huge effort not to roll her eyes. She was chewing on her bottom lip as Dorian added a dash of fresh lime juice.

“That’s to add some acidity,” he laughed. He added a straw and passed the drink over to her.

She took a small and careful sip as Dorian watched her with attentive eyes. She couldn’t help herself as she pressed her lips together and half-closed her eyes.

“That bad?” Dorian asked. 

“No,” she said sarcastically. “It’s… delicious, want some?” She offered him the glass and Dorian tried a sip. He almost spat it out as Celaena started laughing.

“Hey! It’s not that bad!” He said, still laughing while taking a second sip as if trying to prove his point. He struggled to swallow, and Celaena found herself laughing again.

“I need to head over to the bathroom,”  she said shyly as their laughter quieted a moment later. “Is there only the one under the stairs where the long queue is?” She asked as she bounced from one foot to the other and pulled on her best pleading eyes.

“I wouldn’t say this to anybody else,” Dorian said as he leaned closer to her, and she knew he had probably used that line another thousand times. “But there’s an on-suite in my bedroom upstairs that you can use, it’s the third door to the right. Just make sure you don’t go looking into my underwear drawer,” he added with a wink. “I can always walk you over too, you know.”

“I’m sure I will find it on my own,” she said as she patted him on the shoulder.

She sneaked between the bodies of half-drunk and completely pissed students that were filling up the halls and made her way to the marble staircase.  Once up, she made sure there was no one around before she rushed to the last door at the end of the hall. She tried the handle, but the door was locked. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she pulled a pin from her hair and opened it up. Picking the lock took only five seconds, and she was inside with the door closed behind her before a single soul could see her.

Looking up a room in a blueprint and studying it from security footage was normally enough to give her a clear idea of what to expect and where to look. She went to the computer first and turned it on, the lights blinking to life almost instantly. She pulled a small drive from a hidden pocket in her laced-up boot, and inserted it in the USB port; the program started on its own, and a loading bar showed up on the screen. She had fifteen minutes. 

Celaena rushed to the huge window, and peeked through the curtain, making sure there were no eyes looking her way. She hadn’t turned any lights on in the study not to get attention, but you could never be too careful. She looked through the bookcase that covered the whole wall facing south, and the drawers of the desk before checking the time again. Five minutes left. She checked some more drawers and looked through the papers on top of the desk.

She was about to look around the few shelves on the opposite wall when she heard a noise and stopped dead. She looked to the door and saw the knob move. She glanced at the screen: Two minutes left.

Fuck.

Take a guess! Who do you think is about to enter the office? :o

[theartofbeinganerd]

hello! it's amazingjemma from ao3 :) when you have time, could you write a ficlet of your choice with Lincoln and Fitz as brotp? Any plot, really. Love your writing! xo

Hi!! Aww thank you, and thank you for the prompt! :)

((I haven’t had too much occasion to write Lincoln before, so I hope I got his voice right.))

(Ao3)

-

It’s late, far past the time when the whole base should’ve alreadybeen asleep, but Lincoln has never been the best at finding sleep. So, instead,he wanders the darkened halls of the Playground, perhaps attempting to learnhis way around (though he doesn’t see why he’d need to – he doesn’t fit in hereand he knows it; after Jiaying and Afterlife, he really isn’t sure where hebelongs anymore, but something tells him that it just isn’t here, with SHIELD).

As he’s passing the lab, though, his gaze catches on the lowlight spilling out the opened door. Curious, he pauses and peers through one ofthe large windows inside, finding Fitz hunched over a desk positively litteredwith papers and thick books with yellowing pages.

Lincoln winces in sympathy, because he had been there when afrantic Fitz had dashed into the common room, breathless and terrified as hestumbled out that the monolith Jiaying and the others on the council atAfterlife had been so afraid of had swallowed up Simmons.

He’s also been constant witness to the dead-eyed look thatonly seems to grow stronger with each passing day without an answer as to whathas happened to her, has watched him slowly falling apart at the seams withouther.

According to Skye (or rather, Daisy, as she now wishes to becalled), Fitz and Simmons had been partners, best friends, though she’dadmitted a bit reluctantly that she’d always thought there was something…more there. She’d also confessed to himher worry for Fitz, about how she wants so badly to help and support him, buthe refuses to stop for even just a moment and listen, too lost in his desire tofind Simmons.

So, even though Lincoln doesn’t think that it’s his place,he thinks that perhaps Fitz will be more receptive to the words of a strangerrather than a friend (and truly, he wants to help Daisy in whatever way he can,so maybe it’ll hurt her a bit less when he leaves); with that in mind, he stepsinto the lab.

He clears his throat, awkwardly stuffing his hands into thepockets of his jeans as he tries to figure out what to say now that he’s here.Fitz barely looks up or acknowledges his presence, and Lincoln shuffles a tadcloser before asking, “How are you doing?”

Fitz lifts his head to shoot him a blank, disbelieving look,and Lincoln already knows that that wasn’t the right thing to say. “Oh, I’mdoing just great, thanks,” he mutterssarcastically, then goes straight back to his research, seeming intent onignoring Lincoln completely.

But, Lincoln just takes another couple of steps closer, thencomments, “You know, it’s pretty late; maybe you should be getting some sleep.”

Immediately, Fitz shakes his head, rejecting the idea as hereplies roughly, “I’ll sleep when Simmons is safe, when she’s home.”

For a moment, Lincoln doesn’t respond, because he feels bad for Fitz – he knows, possibly betterthan anyone, what it feels like to be lost and desperate and clinging to onelast shred of hope, even though no one else seems to believe everything willwork out. But, he also knows what it feels like to have no one there to supporthim and look out for him, so even though he doesn’t have the answers Fitz islooking for to bring Simmons back, the least he can do is try and keep himgoing, keep him on his feet.

So, he advises Fitz, “You’re really no good to Simmons ifyou’re practically dead on your feet.” When Fitz turns to him sharply, clearlyannoyed at this person he barely knows trying to give him advice, Lincoln holdsup his hands in surrender and assures him, “I’m just speaking from a medical perspective– you’re bound to crash sometime. And even if you don’t, you’re not in peakphysical condition if you’re not sleeping; you could miss something important,something that could save Simmons’s life.”

Fitz clearly wavers for a moment, but then he turns awayfrom Lincoln and back to his research. “If I sleep, then I’m wasting time. If Idon’t sleep, I can find her that much sooner,” he mumbles, absently shaking hishead.

Lincoln hesitates briefly, but he knows that he just has toget Fitz to listen to him, so he places a hand on his shoulder in an attemptregain his attention. “From what I know of Simmons, she’s a fighter – she’llhold out until you find her, Fitz. But, you need to remember to take care ofyourself, if only for Simmons’s sake.” When Fitz’s shoulders rise and fall on aheavy sigh that Lincoln takes to mean he’s caving, he adds, “I’ve seen somepretty crazy stuff in my time, you know. And Simmons coming out of thatmonolith alive and well? It wouldn’t really be so unbelievable after everythingelse, would it?”

Releasing a shaky breath, Fitz gives a reluctant nod. Hegently shrugs Lincoln’s hand from his shoulder as he stands, then heads for thedoor as Lincoln gives a quiet sigh of relief. However, he pauses just insidethe lab, half-turning back to ask, “Do you really think she’s alright?”

Even though he’s not completely sure at all, Lincoln offershim a smile. He knows that Daisy says Fitz needs support, and if he can’t doanything else to help around here (or anything else at all, it seems), thenmaybe he can do this. So, he nods and says, “I do.”

Fitz manages a weak smile of thanks in return, nodding oncemore before he leaves the lab and disappears down the darkened hall in thedirection of the bunks. Lincoln is left alone in the lab then, only able tohope that he’s done enough.

-

Many months later, Fitz is still wearing the suit he’ddonned for their stint undercover in Bucharest, a ridiculously pleased smileplastered on his face that doesn’t seem to be disappearing anytime soon as theyreturn to the Playground. Mack had stayed behind with the quinjet to helpunload equipment, and as they enter the base through the hangar door, Jemmaoffers him a sly smile and says that she’s going to go wash away the missionwith a shower.

Automatically, Fitz goes to follow her, a quip on the tip ofhis tongue about her needing someone to wash her back – but he stops when he seesLincoln hesitating by the doors of the lab.

When he catches sight of Fitz, he takes a couple of stepscloser, his brow furrowed worriedly as he states, “I heard you saw Daisy.”

Fitz shifts a bit uncomfortably, his hand twitching at hisside as he fights the urge to reach up and massage his still slightly achingthroat. “…yeah,” he answers finally.

Lincoln nods absently, wringing his hands together, then he letsout a harsh breath and asks bluntly, “It wasn’t good, was it?”

Struggling to find a remotely comforting answer that isn’talso a complete lie, Fitz hesitates too long, and Lincoln’s jaw clenches tightlyas his hands curl into fists, his temper clearly getting the better of him ashe reads between the lines.

“There has to be more we can do! This is…it’s bullshit, just sitting around waitingfor…for something to happen whileDaisy’s out there with Hive!”Whirling around, Lincoln slaps a hand angrily against the brick wall, his bodyshuddering with built-up emotion.

“Hey,” Fitz says calmly but firmly, “We’re gonna find Daisy,and we’re gonna get her back, okay? Coulson isn’t giving up on her, and neitherare we.”

Lincoln says nothing, and Fitz tries to find something elseto say that’ll reassure him. He remembers, suddenly, that night in the lab whenhe’d been so close to simply dropping from pure exhaustion after weeks oftrying to find Jemma to no avail, and Lincoln had convinced him to take a stepback, get some sleep, and return with fresh eyes the next day. It’d been hisintervention, his reminder to stay in at the very least decent health, that hadkept Fitz going for the next few, excruciatingly long months.

And in addition, Lincoln had been the only one to tell Fitzthat he was sure Jemma was going to be alright, even though he couldn’tpossibly have known it. It is something Fitz isn’t sure he’ll ever be able torepay, but he’ll try as hard as he can to return the favor now that he has theopportunity.

So, he tells Lincoln quietly, “Even if no one else believesit, I know that we’re going to bring Daisy home safe, okay?” It takes a momentfor him to react, but then Lincoln inhales a couple of deep, calming breaths.Though his eyes are still squeezed tightly closed, he nods in understanding,and it’s something, at least.

Just then, Fitznotices movement at the end of the hall out of the corner of his eye. Uponglancing over, he catches sight of Jemma lingering there, seemingly waiting forhim with her eyebrows arched in question. Her brow is furrowed with concern asshe gazes at Lincoln, but Fitz smiles softly at her to let her know that he’staking care of it.

He can’t help but think then about how everything did work for him and Jemma in the end,that it truly had partially been due to the brief conversation he’d had withLincoln, all that time ago, that he’d been able to keep going and eventually findand rescue Jemma. What happened in Bucharest, the love they share and are nowallowed to freely express…it might never have come to be if it hadn’t been forLincoln.

Swallowing with a bit of difficulty at the mere thought thatthings could’ve gone another way, Fitz reaches out to grasp Lincoln’s shoulder,wanting to thank him but knowing instinctively that now is not the time. “Justhang in there,” he tells him kindly instead, “we’ll find a way to defeat bloodyHive and rescue Daisy and everything’ll work out – you’ll see.”

There’s a beat, then Lincoln straightens from his heavy leanagainst the wall, turning his head to finally meet Fitz’s gaze. “You reallythink that?” he asks, seeming almost vulnerable as his eyebrows furrow and hislips turn down at the corners.

And even though there’s a part of Fitz that thinks maybethis time the odds are stacked too high against them, that maybe Hive is toopowerful and can’t help but remember that they so far have no way to even fighthim let alone defeat him, he knows that’s not what Lincoln needs to hear either.

Instead, Fitz simply nods and assures him, “I do.”