#i need more options to bring down the mood after the angsty hell of a backstory given to them CMON | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

distant-velleity · 11 months ago

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Inescapable Storm

Summary: A certain TA can't accept the fact that a certain card soldier cares about him far more than he'd like to admit. Word count: 1.5k+ A/N: Based on a prompt from this list. So. It was. Not supposed to be this angsty when I started it this morning but I guess the recent downpours in our area have really affected my ability to write mood...? Oh well, haha. I just... ahaha... wow these characters can't communicate. Regardless, please enjoy! (Or don't lol, but just don't kill me thanks <3)

The rain pours down hard, attacking the world in rapidly frigid sheets.

Yu knows he should head inside—it’s too cold out here, his jacket has been torn to shreds and the rest of his school uniform ruined by a mix of dirt and magic, and his friends will have questions about where he went.

(He ignores the little voice in his head that asks if they really would care.)

But, even with all that glaringly obvious in his mind, he can’t bring himself to flee from the rain and find himself an overhang to dry himself off under.

The best he can do right now is unsteadily rise to his feet and stagger over to the nearest wall, before practically collapsing onto it for support. His chest protests violently with a sudden sharp pain from his ribs, his bad ankle feels swollen beyond belief, and there’s something dripping down his cheek that feels too warm to be rain. Wiping at it with his sleeve leaves a distinctly bloody smudge—with ink-like blackness around the edges—on the already-sullied white fabric.

He can’t find it in himself to admit that he’s, for lack of a better term, sort of screwed up.

Somewhere by his feet, his phone vibrates with a notification. And then, after a minute, another. And then another, until Yu has no choice but to curse and grab it. The screen protector is cracked irreparably, but that’s fine.

ace of hearts where r u yu? whered u go dude

Yu mutters another ‘fuck’ under his breath, staring at the messages even as raindrops distort the screen. He debates, for a moment—if he should leave Ace on read, if he should tell him the truth, or maybe he could just lie about it entirely to buy himself more time—

…No, that’s not an option.

In the end, he caves, fingers slipping on his phone’s keyboard while trying to send a quick response.

wild card (koi.yu) behjnd hte lecture hsll

His text is marked as Read right away, but with no other response. Yu sighs and closes his eyes, tipping his head back to rest on the cold stone of the wall. The rain doesn’t sting when it lands on his face; it smells fresh, much better than the dirt and blood he’d nearly inhaled earlier.

He finds himself abandoning all other worries to just feel the wall behind his back and the rain all around him, ignoring the pain and exhaustion all over his body. It’s sort of a hopeless, ridiculous thought, but maybe the heavy downpour can wash away some of the evidence on his skin, can wash away everything about this situation that shouldn’t have happened—

“…there you are, Yu—Yu!”

Yu’s eyes snap open to see Ace right next to him, chest heaving with the exhaustion from running.

“I can’t believe you’re out here in this weather,” Ace complains, on the contrary taking off his jacket and draping it over Yu’s head and shoulders. “What are you, stupid?”

“No more than the idiot in front of me taking off his jacket,” Yu shoots back. He tries to take it off, but Ace just puts it right back over him. “I don’t need this, Ace.”

“Where’s yours, then?”

Yu pauses at that, then shamefully averts his eyes from the mess of black fabric on the ground a few feet away. “…Ruined,” he mutters.

“Of course. For the same reasons you look like shit, probably.” Where Ace would normally smirk after saying this, he just narrows his eyes and cups his hands around Yu’s face to get a better look. It feels so distinctly not Ace-like, how he caresses him, but typical in its mix of roughness and gentleness. “Seriously, what the hell even happened to you?”

“What are you doing? You’re so—” He hisses softly when Ace’s thumb accidentally presses too hard on the bruised side of his jaw, and a flash of regret ghosts the card soldier’s face. Yu purses his lips. “...C’mon, it was just a little fight. Some stupid guys from your dorm. I put them in their place, though.”

Ace’s eyes widen considerably. “You got in a fight on your own? Are you kidding me?”

Yu tries for a small smirk to add some levity, to make this conversation normal. “Yeah. Didn’t have to rely on you guys or anything.”

He doesn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he definitely doesn’t get it—not with Ace suddenly stiffening and his hands shifting to clamp around Yu’s shoulders. Not with the hurricane of both frustration and concern brewing in those bright red eyes, worse than the rainstorm around them. None of it is what he predicted would happen.

“You’re such an idiot,” Ace says, a bit bitter and very angry, and loud enough to match both. “I can’t even take my eyes off you for a few minutes without you getting involved in shit like this.”

“Look who’s talking,” Yu retorts, even though Ace’s hands are the one thing stopping his body from trembling like a leaf in a storm. “I think this is tame compared to the incidents you’ve started in the past year. You know how many times we all could have died? A few bruises and scrapes is nothing when you look at that. I’m fine, Ace.”

“No way you think you can get away with lying to me.” Ace grits his teeth. “It’s not okay, you’re not fine. Have you seen yourself? You’re driving me batshit crazy here, Yu.”

Yu bristles. “Well, now you get to know how I feel on a regular basis. Seriously, why are you getting so upset over a fight? It’s not like these don’t happen to everyone on a regular basis—are you finally growing a conscience?”

“Excuse you? I think I’m allowed to be concerned about the person who still bleeds and cries blot,” snaps Ace. At Yu’s surprised look, he huffs with a dry kind of mirth. “You think I don’t know about that? You’ve done a pretty awful job of hiding it, and that fight was really just the cherry on top. Look.”

With his ungloved right hand, he reaches up to swipe the heel of his palm along Yu’s face, where a major cut stings from the sudden contact. The substance that comes off is a mixture of blood and muddy blot, proving his point. Ace displays his pale palm, now stained, with an unimpressed look.

“I was trying to—” Yu takes a sharp breath. “I was trying to keep it a secret because it’s not a big deal. It’s no one’s business but mine.” Through the raindrops still caught on his lashes, he glares at Ace. “If I’d known you’d be like this, I would have tried harder to hide it—”

Ace shakes him by the shoulders, too gently compared to his tone as he starts shouting. “What the fuck do you mean, it’s ‘no one’s business’ and you’d try harder to hide it?! Didn’t you learn anything from your Overblot? Hey, don’t I—don’t the people around you mean anything?”

“Of course you do!” That’s, to Yu’s own horror, the raw truth. “You guys mean so much to me it hurts.”

“Then why—”

“That’s exactly why I can’t tell you anything! Because you didn’t sign up to fight my demons for me, you don’t need to be my knight in shining armor!”

“I don’t need to, but by the Seven, sometimes I sure wish I could!” Ace has never cried in front of Yu before, but it’s starting to look like that might change. “Fuck, I just wish you could tell me what you’re thinking sometimes, at the very least! I don’t care if you never return what I really feel for you—aren’t we friends? Didn’t you say it yourself, that a good relationship is based on care and trust?! We’ve got plenty of the ‘care’ part, but you still won’t trust me��!”

The rain seems to have thinned, still more than a sprinkle but no longer a torrent.

Out of breath from his half-declaration, half-confession, and all anger, Ace inhales shakily. His eyes are wide, either with broken rage or horror at the thoughts he just haphazardly converted into words.

Like a gilled animal left beached after a storm, with the air stolen from his lungs, Yu opens his mouth to reply—

“You… you…”

—and closes it quickly, finding himself at a loss for words. He can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry, either—this has to be some kind of cruel joke, right?

But it isn’t, Ace doesn’t play around with feelings in that specific way because he cares way more than he’d ever like to show normally, everyone knows this, and—God Yu has really fucked up hasn’t he—

“Look, just…” Ace lets go of Yu’s shoulders, gingerly tugging down his jacket so it better protects the TA from the rain. “...sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you for all that,” he mumbles, some of the fight in him evaporating. “Let’s go inside and dry off somewhere, and—and get your injuries treated, then…” As if hesitant to address the elephant in the room he shouldn’t have brought into the conversation to begin with, he trails off. “Okay?”

Yu nods without saying anything, arms crossing to hug himself.

He lets Ace lead the way to a place out of the rain, and they don’t utter a single word to each other on the way there.

#kai's writing #twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #twst oc #yuusona #kai self ships #aceyu <3 #but in the THEY HAVE FEELINGS BUT CANT COMMUNICATE way #niaa on their way to murder me for this...

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star-lemonade · 3 years ago

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School reunion (1/3)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader

Cw: bulling, kinda angsty, Junhee is a sweet heart though

Rating: T (Series R)

Word count: 3.6 k

Summary: You hire someone to accompany you to your school reunion.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. The laptop sat on the kitchen table and the page in the browser was taunting you. You stared at the screen from your spot against the kitchen counter. The empty boxes waited for you to fill in your information. Should I really do this?

You sighed and filled some water into the kettle just to delay having to make a decision. The other thing on the kitchen table was not better. It was an invitation to your school reunion. The reunion was scheduled for the Saturday of the following week at your old school. School. Even the address on the paper brought a bad taste to your mouth.

“You’re so ugly, who would ever date you?”

“I dare you to kiss her.”

“Yak not even for money”

You shuddered. No, no, there is no way I will go there alone. You sat down at the table and began to fill in the form. Name, address, phone and age. On the next page they asked about the occasion or event and you typed: school reunion.

Time? about 3 hours. I won’t stay there for too long.

Gender preference? Hmm I don’t actually care. ‘Don’t care’ was not an option, so you chose ‘man preferred’ over the ‘man only’, ‘woman preferred’ and ‘woman only’ options.

Age preferences? 25-35. I can’t show up there with an 18 year old.

Your finger hovered over the enter button. The shadow of your school days was still haunting you and made your hand heavier until you finally clicked check out.

You had officially rented a plus one for your school reunion.

A day after you had filled out the form you received a message from an unknown number.

“Hello, this is Junhee. I will accompany you to your school reunion next week. Would it be okay if I asked some questions so I can prepare?”

“Hi, Junhee. What do you want to know?”

“How should I introduce myself?”

You chewed on your lip. As you typed the next message your face felt warm.

“As my boyfriend.”

It felt so sad to ask this of a total stranger and you prayed he would not judge you for it. Please don’t question this, please don’t question this.

“How long have we been together?”

I guess that is a valid question someone could ask. You thought about it for a moment. It should not be too short but also not too long. The fact that you did know much about each other would make it not believable that you are together for years.

“A few months maybe?”

He asked a few more questions like “where and how did we meet?” (“at work while getting coffee”) and you answered them with whatever struck your mind.

“Okay. I think this is enough for me. Thank you!”

You sighed. This was actually more complicated than you had anticipated. At least now it felt real as opposed to just a scam to get money from people. Three dots appeared on your screen again.

“One last thing. This is also in the terms of service, but we all must remind our customers about this: I am not a hooker and you did not book sexual favours.”

Your face burned when you read that. Surely no one had asked for that before, had they?

“Of cause not, I just don’t want to go alo-”

Before you really thought about it, you had accidently pressed ‘send’ instead of backspace. Oh no. OH NO.

“Shit.”

My escort knows how pathetic I am. ‘As if he did not know before’ another part of you interjected. Your phone vibrated again.

“It’s okay, I will do my best to keep you company :)”

You did not know what to answer and just send:

“Thank you.”

As the reunion neared you found yourself thinking about it more. A sort of dread had settled in your chest. After all these years you would finally face your bullies. The people who had belittled you for not been pretty enough and made you believe that you could never find anyone who loved you. The worst thing was it seemed that they were right. You were single and you even had to hire someone… no. No, you would not let them get to you. The past years had been the happiest you had ever been. You had friends, even if they were not many, and you did well at your job. There was nothing not to be proud of. Even if you were single now, that did not mean you were unlovable. It just meant that you had not met a person that fit. You would walk in there, head held high and show those petty bitches you were not afraid of them anymore.

Your mood oscillated between confident and anxious for the whole week. You did not want to give them the satisfaction of knowing you were still so affected by them, that their mere presence could make you stay away. No, you had to go. Like this you killed the time to the day of the reunion.

You had rented a dress from a rental service. It was not too fancy but you simply did not own that many dresses and the ones you had did not seem appropriate. Someone on the organizing committee had decided that nice dresses and suits were what they wanted to see. You had messaged Junhee to wear something appropriate for that dress code.

“In a few hours it’s over.”

Your mirror image was not convinced by this but it was all you could do now. Backing out last minute would make you look bad, even if you really wanted to. All of this seemed like a bad idea. What if they found out that you had hired someone to play your boyfriend? You would be the laughing stock of the whole school and this after you had not been in school for years. For a moment you considered just taking off the dress, putting on some sweaters and sitting down on the couch. Your phone made a noise. A new message had arrived.

“At 5 pm at the station, right?”

Junhee.

“Yes. See you there.”

As if it was mocking you, the sun shone from a bright blue sky. The people on the street smiled more than you had seen in some time. On the other hand it was maybe your imagination. Now that you were walking to what could be the worst night of your recent history, everyone seemed in a better state than you.

You arrived at the station.

“I’m wearing a red dress.”

Maybe the dress was a bit much. It had seemed like a good idea. Wearing red would make you stand out. Now, however, that was the opposite of what you wanted to do. Fading into the background, turning invisible and just straight up going back home was what you really wanted right now. The only thing that was that held you back was the thought of the money you had spent upfront for your plus one.

Two young women stopped next to you. One of them sat her backpack down and tried to stuff a paper bag into it.

“Should I help?”

Her friend watched her struggle with amusement. Despite her offer she did not help backpack girl but looked around instead.

You shifted your attention to your phone. Junhee had seen your message. Good. I hope he will be here soon. So we can get this over with.

“Jeez, I wish my boyfriend looked like that,” the girl said as her friend proclaimed: “I’m done. Let’s go.”

Backpack girl dragged her friend away. At least she had a boyfriend. It was not like you needed a man in your life but it would be nice sometimes. Next week I will try tinder. From past experience that was not likely but the thought alone seemed to pacify your mind for now. Getting a boyfriend was future-you’s problem. Present-you had to worry about that goddamn school reunion.

Someone said your name.

“Hmm?”

You were not sure which part shocked you the most: the crisp black suit that hugged the man’s body perfectly, the curly dark hair that looked straight out of a romcom, the beautiful lips and handsome face, the million dollar smile or the soft voice that said your name. It was hard to choose.

“Ehm?”

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Junhee.”

“ID please.”

You showed it to the sour faced student behind the supermarket counter. He nodded and you paid. Buying hard alcohol in broad daylight was highly suspicious but this situation called for it. You definitely could not do this sober. Junhee had sat down on a bench not too far from the supermarket. The black suit and white dress shirt fit him perfectly. It was as if watching a photo shoot for the next wedding catalog. Oh, this is a catastrophe. You unscrewed the bottle and took a good mouthful. The cheap alcohol burned in your mouth and all the way down. No one in their right mind would believe he is my boyfriend. It could not be more obvious that you had hired him. Junhee watched the cars go by. The sun made his hair seem more brown than black and the light breeze moved the soft locks. You took another gulp and stuffed the bottle in your handbag. Did I accidentally book a model? There had not been an option for that of course. I should have asked for a photo. You left the store and walked over to Junhee. Maybe I should just send him home and go drink at a bar.

When he saw you, Junhee stood up. His charming smile filled you with dread. This is a car crash waiting to happen.

“Did you get everything?”

You nodded. Soon the alcohol would hit your brain. Maybe then you would care less about everything. You could not bring yourself to send Junhee away. He had come here, looking sharp and you had paid money for him to be here. Your stinginess won against better judgment, so your only option was the original one: go to your old school.

It felt like there was a black cloud of doom that thickened as you got nearer. The bad experiences from the past made every step you took towards that hell hole more difficult. You wanted to run away.

“Can I take your hand?”

Junhee. You had almost forgotten about him. He had not said anything for the past ten minutes or so. Maybe he felt that now was not a good time to talk. You offered your hand. He interlaced his fingers with yours. It had been some time since you held someone’s hand and it made your heart beat faster. Or maybe it was the liquor.

You turned the corner and there it was. The building looked the same as in your memory. Whoever had the idea of starting the evening here before instead of going to a restaurant directly, did not have your gratitude. Walking through the front door stiffly, you clenched your hands. Your whole body was tense. You were ready to fight or flee at any second.

Voices were coming from the gym. Next to the open door stood a table. On it were pens and stickers. As you approached a woman came through the door and smiled at you. It was the most fake smile you had seen in some time.

“Welcome! Please make a name tag for yourself.”

She made a swiping gesture to the table. You let go of Junhee’s hand and wrote your name on a sticker. The woman watched Junhee as he made a tag for himself. You had never been the jealous type but right then wanted to claw her eyes out.

“Have fun.”

You almost felt her looking as you entered the gym. The hall was filled with bar tables groups had formed and all eyes were on you. At one of the empty tables you stopped.

“I will get something to drink. What do you want?”

You barely heard your own answer over the ringing in your ears. The ceiling had been decorated but it made the hall seem more shabby. As if the paper garlands were only there to hide the cracks in the grey concrete. You looked around.

They looked back at you from the other table, pointed and smirked at each other. Your bullies. They looked old. The ten years since graduation had carved lines into their faces but they tried to hide it by applying too much makeup.

You felt sick.

“Hey.”

A hand landed on your shoulder and you jerked. Junhee pulled back his hand. He studied your face.

“Do you want to leave?”

You looked up. Leave? Leaving meant giving up. They won if you left. No, no you were strong. Your hand strangled your purse. You would not run away from them. Junhee‘s brown eyes watched the tremor in your hand.

“Let’s go,” he whispered and took your hand. Your skin was cold and sweaty against his as Junhee dragged you out. You were so shocked, you did not even say anything until you had left through the front door.

“Stop!”

You ripped your hand free from his grasp.

“You should not stay there any longer.”

“That is not your call to make,” you snapped at him.

His face flushed.

“No, but it is the right one.”

Before you could talk back he continued in a calm tone: “You don’t care about any of those people and they don’t care about you.”

He waved his hands.

“I don't know what happened in the past but you are not here to meet some old friends.”

Your eyes burned. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s humiliating. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision blurred.

“Not here.”

Junhee grabbed your shoulder and led you away. The tears fogged your vision, so you just followed wherever he was going. Your feet moved on their own accord and you were thankful for it. Holding back an undignified sob took up all your mental capacity.

“Sit.”

You collapsed on the bench. There was nothing holding the tears back now. You looked like an idiot in front of everyone. Your bullies had seen you turn up with an escort only to run away the second they looked at you. And now you cried on a bench in front of said escort. How pathetic had your life become? You had not felt this bad since leaving school.

Get a grip. There was nothing to be done here. You did not feel better by telling yourself this, but at least one of these could be fixed. Try to stop crying.

You concentrated on a point on the ground. The concrete was cracked there and something green had started to push its way to the surface. Plants are amazing. They can even exist in these places.

Your eyes still burned and your nose was all clogged up, but you had stopped crying.

“I’m sorry, Junhee.”

You looked up. There was no one around. When did he leave? You sighed and your eyes burnt again. I guess it is just that kind of day. Going home sounded like a good idea but you could not bring yourself to get up. The weight of your sorrows kept you on the bench. You could not even blame Junhee for leaving either. Usually you were very composed and rarely had outbursts of any kind, but today was just not your day.

“Here.”

A bottle of water entered your field of view. Your gaze followed the arm that was holding it up until you met Junhee’s eyes. You took the bottle and almost cried again because he was still here. For better or worse he had not abandoned you on a bench.

The water was cold. It had clearly been in a fridge not too long ago.

“Thank you.”

Junhee sat down next to you and waited while you drank the water. This day, although it was not over, was already a train wreck. Very carefully Junhee asked: “Can we get something to eat?”

You nodded slowly. Food was not a bad idea. You had skipped lunch because you had not been hungry at the time.

“Sure.”

Junhee stood up and looked around, hands on his hips. He turned to you and asked in a hushed tone:

“Where do we have to go?”

There was nothing funny about it but you laughed anyway. Junhee looked like a lost puppy and when he saw you laughing, he pouted. Now this really was funny.

“The station is that way.”

Junhee looked at his phone. He took off his tie and pocketed it.

“Technically I’m free to go now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We just got here and ordered food and you want to go?” was what you wanted to say but swallowed it. You were still embarrassed and grateful that Junhee was there with you. He had made dumb jokes all the way to your favorite restaurant. It was almost on the other end of town but it was the only place you wanted to be right now.

“So, you wanna leave?”

“Leave? No, no!”

He waved his hands frantically.

“I … meant I’m not here because of work now.”

The soju had painted Junhee’s cheeks a rosy red. It looked good on him.

“What do you do when you don’t do this?”

You gestured vaguely at you and him sitting together in your favorite restaurant. Surely it had to be model or something like that just based on what you had seen so far. Technically you were not supposed to ask personal questions but your contract was done. Technically.

“I’m a student. I study computer science, but I will graduate soon.”

He took a sip from his drink. That rang a bell in the back of your mind. Computer science? Someone was talking to me about that not long ago. Who was it?

The waiter came and set your food on the table. He opened the lid of the barbecue that was mounted in the table.

“Have a good meal.”

“Thank you.”

When you left the restaurant, the sun had set. You felt a little awkward. It had been nice spending time with Junhee even if you had been very distressed earlier. Before you could really think about it, the words fell from your mouth.

“Thank you for spending the day with me. It was nice.”

You did not look at him. It felt unnatural but you meant it and had to say it.

“It was nice for me too.”

Junhee’s hair was not as neat as earlier. The waves had flattened and the way he always combed it left it looking disheveled. His cheeks were flushed from the food and the drinks.

You were not sure what to say. “Goodbye for ever” seemed a bit odd.

“Good luck with your studies. See you around.”

“Goodbye.”

You left Junhee at the restaurant and walked home. It was not too far so you could walk. The night air was refreshing after the stuffy restaurant. It also cleared the dryness of your eyes and nose.

Your apartment was dark and empty. You took a quick shower, put on your pyjamas and went to bed. The day had been emotionally exhausting and you were drifting into the fuzzy precursor to sleep. Your mind drifted through some memories and thoughts but nothing was clear. It hit you. You were wide awake because your brain had found the answer to the question. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand. The light from the screen nearly blinded you.

John, a name he had chosen because none of his overseas clients could pronounce ‘Seungmin’, was the CTO of a company that had their offices in the same building as your company. Without thinking much about it you sent Junhee John’s number.

“He is looking for some computer science people. Maybe that’s something for you. Anyways good luck and best wishes.”

You tried not to think too much about that day. It still felt like a defeat even months later. You had run away from your bullies. They had looked at you and you had folded. It was a bitter memory. The logical part of you noted that it was not worth your time, that you should focus on the tasks at hand and live your life.

You spent time with your friends and on your hobbies. Indeed your spirits lifted slowly. The less time you spent ruminating about the past the more time you could spend on other things.

“Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

You agree with your colleague. You grabbed your phone and keys. Your colleague was already at the elevator and held open the door.

Two floors down the elevator stopped and the door opened.

“Hey!”

John and some of his staff entered. You waved and smiled. John was a man in late 40 or early 50s, you had never asked, but he gave off the youthful energy of someone who loved his job. A ‘ding!’ announced the closing of the doors but John jammed his leg and arm between it.

“Hurry up, newbie! We can’t have you starve on the first day!”

Steps echoed in the hallway and the newbie flew into the tight space. The young man had dark hair and wore round glasses. With the dark blue sweater and the jeans he gave off the youthful vibe of a university student. He was very handsome and your face burnt.

Junhee.

#wkcnet #noonasinnetwork #Junhee x reader #Junhee smut #A.C.E smut #a.c.e x reader #kpop x reader #a.c.e fanfic #A.C.E fics #kpop fanfic #non idol au #star writing #queue for the lemonade stand

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fantasyfan · 4 years ago

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Coming Out: Nico di Angelo Oneshot

Summary: Nico summons Bianca to talk to her, and ends up spilling a lot more than he intended to. Characters: Nico and Bianca di Angelo, Hades Slightly angsty

(I apologize in advance if I get any Italian wrong, or put the words in the wrong place. I only used two words, but Google Translate was used for both of them.) There also might be some italics missing, since I copy pasted from Google Docs, so apologies and if you think an italic is needed, reply to the post or smthn and I’ll add it.

Without further ado, here it is!

12-year-old Nico sat on his bed, head in his hands. The Labyrinth was gone, and the battle was over, gone and over like all the praise he received.

For once, Nico had been a part of the camp; he’d sat around the campfire, eaten and laughed, having fun.

But all it took was a week for the excitement to die down, and the other campers became wary of him.

He was only 12, for Gods’ sake! Why were they so scared? Sure, he was a son of Hades, but Percy was a son of Poseidon (and older than himself, Nico might add), yet they all gushed over him.

This annoyed Nico to no end, so eventually, he found his way to his father’s palace, back to his old room. The one Hades had offered him after he ran away from Camp Half-Blood.

The room was hardly touched. Nico had only spent a few days here before running off, trying to find a way to bring his sister back.

Of course he’d been convinced to let her rest at peace. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to talk to her.

“Bianca,” he greeted softly, reaching out to touch her before drawing his hand back, reminding himself he couldn’t.

“Nico,” Bianca smiled, brushing ghostly lips over his forehead. “Mio fratello.”

Nico closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, trying to imagine that Bianca was really here with him, in a physical body instead of a ghostly one.

Sighing, he sat back down on the bed. Bianca was here, able to talk to him at least. He couldn’t resurrect her, so speaking to her was the next best option.

His mind subconsciously piece things together and he had a horrible thought. Panic shot through him as he jumped up and tried to grab Bianca by her shoulders, hands falling right through her image.

Gritting his teeth, Nico crammed his hands into his pockets and instead fixed Bianca with the most serious gaze he could muster.

“Are you going to reincarnate?” Though they were hidden from sight, deep in his jean pockets, Nico’s hands were clenched tightly into fists, knuckles white. In his head, he said a prayer to the Gods who screwed up his life so badly, hoping with all his might that his sister would say no.

“Oh Nico,” Bianca began, looking at him regretfully, eyes filled with sadness.

That was all the answer he needed. Trying to control his panic and the tears threatening to form, Nico clenched his hands even tighter. Nails cut into skin, and the son of Hades could feel blood seeping out from underneath his fingers. Even worse than that was the fact that even Nico himself could feel the absolute fear radiating off him.

If Bianca reincarnated, then he would fully, truly, lose her. She was his only family, and Nico felt tears pricking his eyes at the thought of being completely alone.

“Don’t.” It was all he said, biting his lip to try and keep the tears from escaping.

Bianca stared at him in surprise, and Nico realized what he just said probably sounded like to his sister.

Reminding himself that no matter what he wanted, it was his sister’s (regretfully ended, now ghost) life, and he couldn’t guilt her into staying in Elysium forever, just so he could be happy.

“Don’t answer my question,” Nico whispered, voice cracking.

It was what he meant, when he said ‘Don’t’ but certainly not what he wanted. “Don’t tell me, Bianca. Not now, and not before you go.”

Breathing sharply, his nails were now digging even deeper into the wounds they had inflicted. The pain was the tipping point for the tears that had been gathering in his eyes, and he began to cry, biting his tongue in a fruitless attempt to hold them back.

Gasping as he unclenched his fists, Nico drew his hands out of his pockets. There were four cuts on his right palm, each around the size of a fingernail. Identical wounds were on his left hand, and Nico bit his lip, watching as blood slowly seeped out, crimson red against his pale skin.

“Nico!” Bianca frowned, biting her lip in concern as she reached out for his injuries before realizing she couldn’t help.

That gesture hurt even more than his palms, and Nico clenched his teeth to keep his silent tears at that volume.

Trying to still his desperately shaking hands, Nico pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside were squares of ambrosia and bottles of nectar that Hades had put for him, and Nico silently thanked his father.

Pouring the golden liquid over his hands, Nico could feel cuts slowly closing, and the physical pain was soon gone with the injuries.

Emotional hurt was harder to fix, and usually couldn’t be resolved with Gods’ food. That didn’t mean Nico wouldn’t try though, so he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took careful sips of the golden liquid.

Pulling some ambrosia out as well, he slowly ate it, restricting himself so he didn’t accidentally burn up from consuming too much of the Gods’ food.

By the time Nico was done, the yellow square was gone, as was about half the bottle of nectar. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked back at his sister, who had patiently waited while her brother silently sobbed while taking swigs of nectar and bites of ambrosia.

She was sitting on the bed next to him, handout of pure spite and anger, he cursed that Bianca was able to touch the bed but not him.

Using the (now) healed palm of his hand to brush away stray tears, Nico cleared his throat.

“Bianca, since um, you’re not, uh, not,” his voice cracked and he stumbled over his words, but Nico forged on. “Since you’re not going to be here much longer, I figured I might as well make the most out of this time.”

Before Bianca could say something to comfort him, Nico blurted it out. “I’m gay.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his sister’s face, and she reached out as if to touch his face, cup it with her hands like she used to.

“It’s okay, mio fratello.” She moved closer to him, and Nico could swear he felt her breath by his ear. “I am too,” Bianca breathed.

Nico managed to somehow choke on nothing, beginning to gasp and wheeze as he clawed at his throat. Vigorously coughing, he stared at his sister in shock as he pounded his chest, trying to get air in.

Bianca nearly burst out in raucous laughter, but with a lot of struggling, she managed to keep it to a few quiet giggles.

When he was finally able to speak, Nico simply choked out, “You are?” before blushing so hard he looked like he was still choking.

“Yes, Nico, I am.” Binaca smiled, though looked slightly concerned at his reddening face and so pointed to the bottle of nectar on the drawer.

Nico took a sip of the drink, letting the cool liquid run down his tortured throat, which hurt like hell from his (concerningly long) coughing fit.

Bianca snarkily pointed to the closet while her brother drank, smirking. “Do you want to try this the proper way?” she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

Nico rolled his eyes but complied, chuckling as he slipped into the closet. He stayed there for a good minute before bursting out, wearing a colourful pride shirt with many accessories.

“I’m gay, Gods dammit!” he screeched, looking like a rainbow in the cemetery, with his messy black hair and pale skin.

Bianca burst out laughing at the thought, proudly watching her brother as ghostly tears (Ghosts can cry. Who knew?) threatened to trickle down her cheeks.

“I’m not going to ask where you got those things,” she smiled, pretending to brush an unruly curl from his forehead. The two of them ignored the fact that the hair stayed right where it was when her hand passed straight through it.

“Nico, go show Hades. Tell him.” Nico’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open like a fish’s. Bianca smiled again, her brother’s facial features hilarious. “Nico, I’m serious though. Come on, before your courage wanes.”

“Why should I tell him?” Nico asked, scoffing as he turned away. The two had been chatting for a few minutes about all the troubles of being gay when Bianca ruined the mood by demanding he tell their father.

“Nico.” His sister’s voice forced him to look at her, straight into translucent eyes. “I’m not your only family. When I’m gone, you still have Hades.” She chose not to add the part about how Camp Half-Blood could be his family too, if he let them get closer. One step at a time.

“Hades,” Nico snarled, putting as much venom as he could in the name, “killed our mother. Hades put us in this situation.”

He knew that neither of those were true, but said them anyway; truthfully, he was just scared, finding excuses so he wouldn’t have to tell his father.

“Nico,” Bianca sighed quietly. Eyebrows raising for a second as she began to fade, Bianca quickly understood what was happening.“You’ve summoned me for far too long already, I have to go.” Nico let out a strangled sound, restraining himself from reaching out to try and keep her here with him, because he knew it would be useless.

“It was lovely talking to you again, and I’m sure that Father will say the same when you tell him.” Nico’s lips thinned and he frowned, and Bianca knew that look well. “Please, for me, mio fratello?” She asked, voice barely audible as she faded away, back in Elysium.

Nico could never resist it when his sister spoke in Italian. It would only be used when she was expressing extreme admiration or happiness, which was why he absolutely melted when Bianca called him ‘mio fratello.’

That was also why he was tugging on a jacket to cover his pride shirt, buttons, pins, and bracelets as he went to find Hades.

Besides, what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t grant his sister’s last, true, dying wish? Nico felt like Bianca had been waiting for him to summon her one last time before choosing to be reborn. To let them have one more conversation before she was truly gone.

Pushing that thought away, Nico wandered the halls of Hades’ vast palace, looking in every room for the God himself.

“Father?” Nico finally picked the right room, opening the door to find Hades in a chair, reading a book.

“Yes?” He didn’t even bother to look up from whatever he was reading, and that slightly deflated Nico’s already waning confidence.

“I have something to tell you.” Anxiously shifting from foot to foot in the doorway, Nico awaited his father’s response.

Eyebrows raising by a fraction, Hades raised a hand, beckoning his son into the room. Nervously shuffling in, Nico stood a good meter away from the God of the Underworld, afraid.

Not that the distance would do much since, well, Hades was the God of the Underworld.

“Do continue,” his father drawled, idly flipping a page as he spoke.

“It’s kind of a serious confession,” Nico mumbled, almost visibly shaking from having to restrain himself from turning tail and running, as well as the feeling of absolute terror bubbling in his stomach.

Still not bothering to look up, Hades rolled two fingers, gesturing for him to continue.

“I’m...g-ga-” Nico stuttered, already feeling his face heat up. It took him a good minute to compose himself and finish his short sentence, during which Hades hardly blinked an eye at the awkwardness. “I’m gay,” he finally managed to choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

Immediately, Nico began to panic. His dad was the literal God of the Underworld, so even if he died, then he could still be sent to the Fields of Punishment. Afterall, who cared about the small Italian boy enough to argue with a God?

Bianca cares, he reminded himself. But she’s dead, you idiot! She’s a ghost, and going to be reborn soon. If you go to the Field of Punishment, what will she be able to do?

Panic overwhelmed him, and Nico was on the verge of hyperventilating. Until his father spoke and somehow calmed every nerve in his body.

“Okay.” That was it. One syllable to assure Nico that everything was alright. His breathing slowed, but he wasn’t so easily convinced that Hades was okay with him being gay.

“Father, I don’t think you heard me properly. Perhaps you were distracted with reading? I said I was gay.” Unzipping his jacket, Nico let it fall to the floor and made wild gestures at his clothes and accessories.

“Nico, I heard you fine. What’s your confession?” Hades’ eyes flicked up but he hardly seemed surprised at the rainbow wear, going back to read his book right after looking.

“I…” Nico stared in disbelief. Was Hades just dismissing his coming out as if it were a regular occurrence? Dismissing the fact that he was gay as though it hadn’t been something that Nico had fought tooth and nail to keep secret?

“Nico?” The God prompted, flipping another page.

“That’s it. That was the confession,” Nico whispered. “I’m gay. That’s the confession.” For the first time in their (admittedly short) conversation, Hades properly looked up from his book, frowning at Nico.

“That’s your confession?”

The boy silently nodded, looking at his feet. “Well, I...I thought you’d be mad or something.”

“Mad at the fact you’re gay.” Hades (somehow) looked Nico in the eyes (even though he was staring at the floor as though it were the most interesting thing in the world) for confirmation, and he nodded again.

Sighing, Hades closed his book and stood, gently placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not and won’t be mad.”

“Really?” NIco gasped, looking up at him with shining eyes.

“Of course,” Hades scoffed. “There’s no way you can be more gay than Apollo, and he’s been my nephew for thousands of years.” He paused for a second before summoning a chair. “That reminds me. You are long overdue for a Greek Mythology review if you think that I, a Greek God, would have a problem with a gay son.”

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septiembrre · 4 years ago

Note

30 for the kiss prompts!!!!

Prompt: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

@sothischickshe, I made a concerted effort to keep this silly and short. And I gave myself frown lines as I watched it grow longer and longer and… angsty. D:

Featuring:

A magical reappearance of Beth’s furniture

A broken air conditioner

A heatwave

Lots of summer clothing

Sweat (but like the typical annoying kind. This is not a euphemism for sex)

Beth and her anxiety

Rio, a certified Goth™

A relationship not yet ended

Pain

And a Mick cameo, of course!

On AO3, too!

---------

I’VE GOT TO LOSE MY COOL

Beth’s first mistake was not calling the HVAC technician first thing in the morning. She had called on the way out the door, left a voicemail.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Wednesdays were usually slow. She would be able to sneak away at almost any point to take a call back. In the message she left, Beth made sure to mention that her only conflict was at three (the weekly drop of bills from Mick). Otherwise, there was plenty of time to schedule the service visit with perfect timing for the impending heatwave.

But, of course, her life was no longer neat.

On this random mid-day shift, there had been a flurry of customers at the store -- multiple special orders for invitations, a desperate maid of honor running in for last minute bridal shower details. And, naturally, it was in this hubbub that the tech had returned her call. There was another subsequent round of phone tag. Beth left a new message.

On her phone, there was also a text from Mick. He was held up -- and that never happened. The texts hinted at some mysterious, more-important errand for their boss and she was a little curious. He had quashed her follow-up questions (only a couple!), with a gruff, “I’ll get there when I get there.”

And he indeed eventually arrived to Paper Porcupine -- a whole hour late and in a terrible mood. He barreled in the backdoor, sans his typical flannel and sans-leather jacket. Instead, he was in a t-shirt and sweaty as all get out in the late afternoon heat. Beth had stared at him aghast as her phone chimed with another call. It had been a perky soundtrack to Mick’s string of colorful swears when he realized he had left behind half the one-dollar bills needed for the next print run.

Well, at least that mess wasn’t on her.

When Beth finally caught the technician on her drive home, she confirmed what Beth had begun to suspect in her gut: they were all booked up with service calls until next Monday.

“It’s the heatwave, Mrs. Boland,” the tech explained over the car’s speaker phone. “Half of Detroit is calling in about faulty units. We can get you in first thing next week.”

Beth had nodded unseen and despairing. She had the AC blasting in the car, but she was still sticky with sweat. It was going to be precisely eleven degrees hotter by tomorrow. Then, it would chart 105 the day after that.

Good Lord.

Her second mistake was not immediately driving to the store to purchase a pool.

This is how Beth finds herself in the middle of the brutal once-a-year Michigan heatwave, reflecting on how truly her life no longer plays out in the tidy, pre-ordained trajectories it used to. And some days this is thrilling but other days, today, it’s...

Terrible.

Beth tries to do what she can.

She digs out her most breathable pair of exercise shorts, short short and purchased two children ago. She dons her comfiest, lift bra and throws on a frayed pink tank top. She no longer wore these articles of clothing in the presence of her husband (especially after that comment now etched into her soul about “a great ass and perfectly shaped boobs”) but kept them tucked into her dresser for such hellishly hot, solitary occasions such as today.

She pulls her hair messily into a lofty bun leaving no opportunity for it to cling to her neck. She also temporarily appropriates three of the flagging household fans and angles all of them carefully at her, meticulously layering the currents. Finally, she sprawls on her bed, starfishing her limbs for maximum air-to-skin contact.

All of it helps a little, but she’s still hot. Beth can’t fathom anything outside of her misery, wants to shed her skin.

She momentarily considers taking her third cold shower of the day.

Then, without realizing it is happening, Beth finds herself an hour deep into a frenzy of online shopping, precariously balancing her laptop so it doesn’t touch her skin.

Her focus: sandals.

Beth knows she shouldn’t go through with the purchase. Rationally, she can admit it is a feverish spiral, fixating on one fraction of why this week is awful. But, it is all she can think about: she does not have any appropriate footwear for this heat.

How will she survive?

From there comes a whole whorl of scenarios. If she could get away with not leaving the house, she could stay barefoot, stick to the shadowy corners of her house, shower any hour of the day. In fact, this was (part of) the reason why she had chosen to stay home as Dean took the kids to the community pool a few blocks over. Her old pair of ratty flip flops had finally given out and the mid-morning heat already had Beth at her wit’s end. God, she just needed some quiet and some sense of distance from Dean. So, she suggested the idea, urged him to go and leave her in peace.

Perhaps, she could send him out for all the kids’ needs and assorted errands?

...But, could he be trusted?

Well, if Beth refused to leave the house, that meant she was also choosing not to go with the kids to the movies or the library, places with functioning air conditioners where she could cool off. And what else could they do tomorrow? Maybe she could dig out the old sprinkler from the garage… But, then she’d have to go into the garage, and the temperature in there--

Anxiously, Beth meanders the tabs on the DSW website and adds two new pairs of flip flops to her cart. One’s a little more casual, definitely good for pool-side and backyard time. The other pair is a little more dignified. They didn’t look like they would clack.

Well, she doesn’t need two pairs...

She’ll narrow it down later.

In the back of her mind, Beth can acknowledge she doesn’t really need to buy anything at all, and that these sandals will not make her current discomfort any more bearable. But, it doesn’t hurt to look.

Oh, goodness -- what about when she has to go back to Paper Porcupine for her next shift? The thought of putting on any of her flats seems like too much to bear, claustrophobic as they were in the heat. Pumps were out of the question. Which brings her to her last job-appropriate footwear option -- her ankle boots. Weirdly, that seemed to be a fashion trend that was happening now, but nope, absolutely not.

It is in this fever pitch, that Beth makes her third and perhaps most egregious mistake: when Rio knocks on the French doors, she lets him in.

In her defense, she’s a little dazed. As mentioned before, the current state of Michigan is literally hell and Rio’s appearance… takes her by surprise. She was not expecting him to show up today with a duffle of the rest of the small bills. He hadn’t texted and to top it off, he is wearing... an outfit she has never seen before.

A sleeveless shirt.

A sleeveless shirt and joggers, fancy athletic ones that look a price point (or three) above the ones she usually buys for Dean. However, despite this new foray into athleisure-wear, Rio remains head to toe in his favorite color with black on black Chucks rounding out the look.

What a goth, Beth thinks, shaking her head to herself. This outfit in over-100 degree heat?

She feels hotter just looking at him.

Like Mick the other day, Rio is sans-jacket, sans-button-up, and sans-beanie and there’s just… miles and miles of uncovered brown, freshly sun-kissed skin.

Maybe, it’s her deep-seated jealousy of people who can tan. All her skin is good for is glowing in the dark and flash burning at the slightest interest from the sun. And mind you, she’s currently safe inside her dim bedroom, but it’s the strangest thing... She’s burning now as her eyes trace the smooth skin exposed at the base of his neck, burning as she follows along the neat, sharp line of his collarbone where she had bit--

Stop, Beth. Why did she still want--

Had he purposefully shown up with a work excuse on the hottest day of the year to pester her? Was this a latent extension of his punishment? Beth thought they were past this.

But, you know what? Whatever. Let him try.

She’s cool. She might be sweaty as hell, and wanting to crawl out of her skin, but she is cool as a cucumber, cold as ice, profoundly unbothered.

She’s so cool that she doesn’t say a word.

Not to greet him, or remark upon the mistake with the drop or… his atypical clothing choice.

She doesn’t comment either on the state of their business or ask after whatever it was he had assigned Mick to do this week and had seemingly gone awry.

She doesn’t comment as his mouth drops open with surprise as he takes in her appearance, his eyes widening with something as intolerably warm as the air around them. The bag slips from his grip just inside her doorway.

Nor does she say anything when Rio follows her back to bed, tethered to her through a tenuous spell of heat (weather or otherwise). She’s cool, indifferent, breezy actually as she repositions herself in the crosshairs of the fans. If she pretends he doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have to share the breeze right? So she doesn’t pay much mind as Rio slips off his sneakers and settles next to her. Instead, she re-balances the laptop and resumes pursuing the online DSW store.

She doesn’t say anything as he eventually shuffles closer, presumably to watch as she adds strappy sandals to her cart (or more probably to peek down her shirt). And god-- this stupid tank top. Maybe her boobs look better from over there in Rio-world, but over here she is sticky with underboob sweat and crossing her fingers that none of it shows through her bra.

His shoulder leans against hers.

And she has every reason to push him away, but… his skin is cool and smooth and not the most intolerable part of this weekend. So, she lets him stay there.

And she continues to ignore him, cool-like, or cool-aspiring.

Until he no longer lets her.

Concentrated as she is on her shopping, she notes idly as Rio’s foot reaches out to nudge one of her fans to aim more directly at him.

Beth can’t help the snarl that comes out of her mouth, “Don’t.”

He always brings out the worst in her.

There’s a low snicker. Her gaze drops down to take in Rio’s arm as it presses up fully against hers. His fingers reach over to pinch her thigh.

“Damn, ma.”

There’s that heat again, the one from inside. God, she hates him.

Beth shuffles away, frowning at her screen. Rio shuffles too, sidling up next to her again. She adds another pair of sandals to her order and then considers her cart.

“Elizabeth…” In the corner of her eye, she catches the movement of Rio shaking his head with reprove. “Think about where you live.”

Beth flails on the bed in a display that admittedly reminds her of her own children in a fussy mood and it only annoys her more. Her bedspread sticks to her arms, the backs of her legs, and the exposed sliver of her midriff where her top is creeping up. Beth shifts, trying to dislodge the cover from her skin, mindful to protect the laptop. It’s only happenstance that she manages not to shift a single inch of where the length of her arm touches Rio’s.

As she tries to calm down, a brief vision comes to Beth -- an alternate universe where the laptop is safely tucked away and the HVAC blessedly functions. The Rio and Beth of this fantasy are them but also not… maybe she’ll call them Christopher and Elizabeth. That Beth -- Elizabeth -- is only mildly inconvenienced by the heat raging outside. She can rest her dampened forehead against the cool arch of his-- Christopher’s neck. She can lean in to press a weak kiss at his collar bone. In fact, she can kiss it anytime she wants, invited to touch him anywhere she like. In this dream, Elizabeth’s ministrations don’t have to be surer or bolder or cool -- because she has him.

All the time.

She can afford to be soft.

In turn, Christopher nuzzles his face into her hair fondly, and that Elizabeth receives a soft kiss at the crown of her head. There’s an undercurrent of sex between them, the suggestion of it, but overall the scene is sluggish in the zenith of summer and content. Elizabeth can curl her body around his and let him hold her--

How silly.

Beth shakes herself out of it and realizes that Rio has shifted on his side, watching her as she’s zoned out staring at the cart full of sandals for too long. His lips twitch and almost pull into a smile. Then, he quells them into mock seriousness.

It feels too intimate, him with her on this bed, her bed, the bed. It feels like Before.

God, why is he here anyway? If she was alone, she could peel off all her clothes and… take an ice bath probably.

Not think of him at least.

Not think about that wild, feverish idea of curling up, fitting her body into his and surrendering to the heat. Not think about how desperately and pettily she wants to pinch him back. She wants to kiss that stupid look off of his face or... Maybe she could purchase all six pairs of sandals and start browsing for pools on Cloud 9 just to spite him--

“I am thinking about where I live and actually, it’s the middle of summer here--” Beth bites out. “--and it’s outrageously hot.”

“Just buy yourself a pair of sturdy white lady shoes. You mean to tell me you don’t already own some Birks?”

“Excuse me--” Beth splutters, incensed. She had considered them first but had been discouraged again by the price tag for a single pair. “White people aren’t only ones who wear Birkenstocks.”

Without missing a beat, Rio volleys back, “Baby girl, what are you going to do with so many pairs of sandals in Michigan the rest of the year?”

“Says you.”

“Oh?”

“You literally have a million pairs of shoes. Your closet is insane.”

It dawns on her, what she just said.

Oh.

Not good.

It’s the fucking heat. At least, the discomfort can’t blotch her cheeks any more than they already are.

She knows that if she looked at him now, she would see Rio doing something... obnoxious with his face. He’s probably smirking in that terrible, gloating, dumb, sexy way that he does, but too bad.

Beth refuses to look at him.

She’s indifferent and unbothered. She’s cool. She’s the kind of Beth that would never ever even think about his closet or daydream about them folding clothes together or fucking on--

So, instead, she snaps her laptop close with a final click. The sandals were a half-brained idea anyway and that was a conclusion she already came to on her own. Thank you very much, boss.

She starts to get up but then Rio’s hand reaches out to curl around her thigh, pinning her to the bed. He squeezes her leg gently, as he has the audacity to shush her.

It’s enough impetus for Beth to rear her head back to meet his gaze again and level him with her most withering glare.

And, what do you know? She was correct. He appears to be very entertained.

This time she feels the heat surge on her face and knows without a doubt that it shows on top of the heat rash.

“Yeah, so… are you ever gonna tell me what you were doin’ at my house?”

“No.” She snipes, prim.

“No?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” It's outright untruth.

Rio’s amused disbelief and her defensiveness meet in a standoff. Beth knows from experience he’ll try to wait her out and she gnashes her teeth.

Then, there’s a twitch of movement at her thigh, the flex of fingers she realizes are still there and Beth registers the warm span of his hand a few inches above her knee. Her gaze darts down to look at where he’s touching her. He glances down, too. Together they watch as his thumb slowly strokes her skin. Then, again.

They both observe as the muscles in her thighs just perceptively clench.

God, him and her, in this bed.

His voice softens to that ridiculous mumble, both low and rich. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. You can tell me.”

The tone raises her hackles -- as if she wasn’t already too familiar with this trap! She tries to affect nonchalance -- she’s cool -- and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Rio grins. It’s sharp like a knife and charming. She hates that he’s the most attractive person she’s ever met. “You liked my closet?”

Then, an idea comes to her-- how she can best him at his own little game.

Beth curls on her side towards him. Her cleavage deepens and god, she can instantly feel more sweat bloom but she knows what he likes. The line of their bodies is parallel, only separated by an inch or two. They’re sharing the breeze from the fans now and wisps of her hair have gotten loose from her bun and are blowing into her face. Rio’s hand shifts to resettle and it drifts up to stroke her hair back behind her ear. Then it drops to curl at her waist. And you know -- nice move -- but she can do him one better.

“Yes,” Beth says simply. She brings her hands up to trace along the neck of his shirt, across his pecs, and the expanse of skin she hasn’t seen since that afternoon of Before. “I didn’t see this though.”

Then, in a moment of haughty malice, her fingers find the notch of his clavicle. She watches his throat bob as he swallows hard and she counts the success. She ignores the tell-tale temptation to gift him more bruises, to kiss him…

The thought occurs to her, distantly, slowly emerging through the fog of heat, that if she tugged the fabric to the side a bit, she’d find one of the scars she gave him. Her hands become clammy and they retreat.

“You like it?” Rio’s voice comes out a smidge hoarse. But, perhaps only someone who knows him like her would notice.

Beth shrugs a shoulder.

His eyes are bright as he looks back at her. His gaze shifts crass, laden with the suggestion of sex, and there’s a tinge there that's not quite sour per se. But, it’s heavy with the particular weight of who they are now. His line of sight deliberately drops to her cleavage with old, salacious purpose.

It’s not the way he looked at her that day, that one time (or two).

Self-rebuffed, Beth tries not to think too much about how she hates that Rio caught her dressed like this. She itches to pull her top up to her neck or scramble off the bed to find something else to throw on. She itches to disappear entirely or to retreat into her bathroom (and see if this time he’ll follow her there too).

Slowly, in performance, Rio moves the fingers at her waist and dips them under the edge of her tank top. He traces teasingly underneath along her sweaty skin.

“I like this.” Rio says, biting his lower lip lewdly, tugging along the hem of her shirt.

And Beth feels-- she feels--

Too hot.

Too objectified.

Her stomach drops and she wants to crawl out of her skin. This wasn’t, this isn’t-- This isn’t what it was.

No matter who they are this minute, whatever mess continues to unfold, this isn’t what that day was.

She won’t let him ruin it.

“You know I did really like your closet. I liked your shoe racks--” she scrambles, trying to dangle a little of what he wants and to remind him. “Your pictures. Nice touch.”

The comment serves its purpose. It makes him pause, sufficiently rebuked by all the ways that she knows him.

Rio extricates his hand, pulls away from her skin, as she tries again to calm herself. She needs to be cool, cool, cool.

But, it’s unbearable -- who they are now.

She feels frazzled and depleted as she watches Rio roll onto his back. He looks up at her ceiling, not at her. “Why can’t you be honest with me for once?” He says it tiredly, without artifice.

She can’t stand it.

“You’re one to talk.”

Beth watches as Rio is now the one gritting his teeth.

“Y’know--” There’s a poignant, festering beat and then he says, “When I fucked you in this bed, I had wanted…”

More.

That want goes unsaid, suspended in the air around them with the heat.

“But, you just wanted me to fuck you,” he finishes quietly, leveling her.

Her stomach bottoms out newly pained and she wonders if that day, those two times, are already ruined for him. Certainly, she can understand if it’s because of the bullets. But, if he still has any doubt--

She makes a last-ditch attempt at levity.

“You’d probably say this is really… basic bitch of me.” The phrase fits awkwardly, and the call back immediately has Rio’s attention. She knows in her race to pull something together, to make it better, something bearable, whatever she’s going to say is going to be too candid.

“Yeah?”

“But, the times that I’ve been the most… attracted to you--” Oh god, this isn’t coming out light and casual at all. Oh no.

Rio shakes his head at her, “Don’t stop now, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Beth huffs. Then, she tries again. “One is definitely when you were bashing in that butt-ugly car.”

Rio’s eyebrows raise comically high.

“You know with the crowbar,” She gestures, swinging her hand gratuitously. He absolutely already knows what she’s talking about.

“And two..” Beth shuts her eyes and takes a steadying breath. She hopes for the best and tries not to rush the next bit. “--was when I saw your closet was color-coordinated.”

She sneaks a glance at him, and her stomach twists again.

He has absolutely no business looking so fondly at her.

She strives to clarify. “But, that was before.”

“Not anymore?”

“No.”

Rio nods, presumably in acceptance of her refusal.

But, then he tugs her to him, across him. Beth settles on top of him, too hot, too sweaty. Her forehead comes to rest, pressed against the soft hollow of his neck.

#My writing #my fic #beth x rio #tbh i don't love how this came out but I need to get it off my hands #but I hope folks enjoy it!#and remember what summer feels like #nbc good girls

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incorrectly-quoted-queers · 5 years ago

Text

Drunk Punch Love: Chapter 8

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

The emptier the ship got, the more apparent it was that the ones left were avoiding her.

Chapter 8: Bloody Workout Gear

Quite a few of the crew-members from the Saren mission were taking shore leave on the Citadel, while the Normandy was hopping around the galaxy, taking people home. Tali had gone back to the Flotilla, despite Anya insisting that she'd buy a few junk ships and be her new flotilla if she wanted. And they were currently on their way to drop Wrex off on Tuchanka. He decided, after all their time together, that maybe he should head back and try to bring some order to his people. After all, there was a war coming and Krogan enjoyed a good war.

But it was a little awkward when Kaidan and Liara were still on board and she sometimes went days without seeing them. Liara spent most of her time in her science office, analyzing any Prothean artifacts they had and preparing for her next research position, which they were taking her to after Wrex was gone. And Kaidan was always spending his time with Chakwas, Joker, or working with newer recruits. Basically anything away from Shepard.

Even Garrus seemed to be avoiding her. He kept on saying he was busy with some calibrations, always under the Mako, or working on their guns. She thought they were finally good, actually more than good, after Ashley's funeral. But maybe they weren't.

Anya knew that Kaidan had a very good reason to avoid her; she broke his heart into too many pieces that night before Ilos, and she understood that. And she knew Liara was really overwhelmed by suddenly being the foremost researcher on everyone's new favorite ancient species. She at least apologized for continually ditching Shepard at every turn.

Garrus really was the confusing part; she had no clue what she did.

The only person left talking to her was Wrex. She'd have Joker, but Kaidan was holding her favorite pilot hostage as his own personal buddy, so that wasn't an option. It was kinda pathetic that the only person who would talk to her was about to abandon ship in a day or two.

At least the guy loved taking breaks to do some target practice.

"Your aim is shit today, Shepard."

Anya grumbled, took another shot at the target. This time, she hit a half-inch off. "It's not bad."

Wrex laughed at her, laying his own gun on his shoulder. He pointed a very accusatory finger at the target and said, "Yeah, sure. You and the turian can spend hours here waiting for someone to miss, but missing it every time today isn't that bad."

"Fuck off, old man."

Even though she put her pistol in the holster and tried to walk away, Wrex followed her. All the way upstairs to the kitchen, even. "So what's eating you?"

Anya didn't really want to hear it. "Absolutely nothing."

"You say that like a Varren gnawing off their own leg."

Turning around, Anya punched his chest plate. She was pretty over all his prying. The only good part of hanging out with him was their very short conversations. When did it suddenly need to get all serious? "What is it with you and comparing me to Varren?"

"I dunno, you're kinda like one. Vicious and badass, but kinda cute when domesticated."

"It sounds like you're calling me a dog." Shepard took her blueberry juice out of the fridge and poured herself a glass. It was hard not to notice how empty the mess was; empty enough that their voices kind of echoed.

Wrex sat down on a stool across from her. Mental note that if she wants to be bitter and alone, to remove all seating from the kitchen. "No clue what that is, but sure." He gave a pointed look between Anya and the fridge. She groaned, but maybe it would shut him up. She poured him a glass of some very dense Krogan beverage (non alcoholic) and slid it to him. Unfortunately for her, that didn't stop him from talking. "Hope you're not getting feeble on me. I'm expecting you to take care of the galaxy while I take care of Tuchanka."

"I wouldn't dare." When Wrex started drinking, Anya's prayers seemed to be answered. He was glugging down the- beverage? It smelled nice, but looked like sludge. She didn't really know what to make of it. The silent company was nice, reminded her she had friends but didn't remind her that she was off her game because of the other fickle crewmates.

Well, it was good until a certain pilot walked up. "Ooh blue juice? Pass me some of that."

Anya glared at him while she got out the juice, poured another glass, and then handed it to him. She hoped her annoyance seethed into the drink. "Joker, what the hell are you doing here?"

"We're stopped above Tuchanka. We got here early. No one tell you over comms?"

Looking between Wrex and herself, Anya shook her head. "Um, no. That's your job."

"Right... Well, I've taken to not broadcasting my location all over the ship. Sure, I may be at the pilot's seat 10/10 times, but a certain angsty biotic doesn't need to know that."

Shepard peered at Joker and crossed her arms. "Is that why you've been pinging everyone whenever you're in weird places around the ship?"

"Convinced Tali to give me a device that lets me say I'm anywhere without having to be there."

"C'mon, Kaidan can't be that bad."

"He's not, unless he's in a bug funk mood about a certain Commander rejecting him. Oh wait, he is." After frowning at her and rolling his eyes, Joker then turned to Wrex and said, "We told the drop ship that you'd be ready in thirty minutes."

The tall Krogan downed the rest of his drink. "Good thing I haven't packed yet." He waved at them before heading downstairs. Presumably, to do that packing thing. That left Joker, Anya, and the blueberry juice.

After a sip from his glass, Joker said, "So, haven't seen any cranky turians in your room lately."

Anya was about ready to throw her drink at him. Glass first, hopefully. "You shouldn't be seeing anyone in my room, because you shouldn't ever be there in the first place."

"A guy's gotta protect his bones, okay?"

"We're both nearly 30, Joker, maybe stop getting so drunk you need your old academy roomie to babysit you."

Joker took another sip, which seemed to be a sure sign of him saying something annoying. "So you are really bothered about not hanging out with Garrus lately."

"I'm going to break your dick, I swear."

"At least aim for a more impressive threat, Shep. Because that's not a hard thing for anyone to do."

Grumbling, Anya didn't want to dance around whatever stupid point he was trying to make. "Okay, fine. What do you want to say about it?"

"You two just seemed cozy, hanging out on that couch."

"We have a weekly movie night, this isn't exactly wild news."

"I know. Even more suspicious."

Anya was pretty over it. Joker was having too much fun dancing around what he really wanted to say, and she'd rather he just spit it the fuck out. Especially since she knew he was enough of a Kaidan beacon to need anti-lieutenant protocols. She didn't really want to have to deal with that right now, either. "Get to the fucking point, Jeff."

"All I'm saying is that you don't get very cozy with people. Exhibit A is literally stalking me around this ship out of heartbreak. I just want to get a feel on what's happening here. Mama bear would be interested if you're getting close to someone. She was pretty pissed you didn't tell her about Rike back in the day."

"One, why are you discussing my sex life with my mother? And two, there's nothing for her or you to be pissed or prying about. So shove off it."

"You say that, but I have eyes."

"Not for long if you keep this up."

"Fine, fine. I'm just saying, why aren't you talking to him?"

"I-" Before she could say anything, Wrex came upstairs, dragging Vakarian in tow. Garrus looked a little shell-shocked and Anya couldn't help but stare. Wrex didn't even let the poor guy wipe the oil grease off his face.

Then very loudly, Wrex announced, "Now, you two are gonna escort me down to Tuchanka."

While she and Garrus were just swallowing down the awkwardness between them, Wrex was shouldering his pack. Joker said, "I wish I could pack that fast. Damn."

Leaving her blueberry juice, Anya tried to get a handle on the very quickly changing situation. "I'll just go grab my armor-"

"No need, I just wanna show off that the so called "savior of the Citadel" has my back. Good way to start showing dominance and fixing shit up, right?"

Anya didn't even know how to argue. "I guess, sure. The workout gear will do."

He threw an arm around her and Garrus and then dragged them to the stairs. "Time to show my planet I'm back."

They followed him to the docking port in relative silence. Their next few minutes were spent entering a drop ship and watching the burning planet all the way to the surface. No one spoke. Wrex had this purposeful energy to him, and she didn't know what to say out loud that they hadn't already said the past few days.

But Garrus, across from her? He seemed like he was itching with something. He kept on fidgeting with his armor and checking the clips on his sniper rifle. Even that night she was a drunken idiot, he could look at her the next day. Albeit after a lot of awkward talking, but now he seemed a world away. What made it worse was that she had no clue how to reach him.

When they landed, Wrex was happy to walk out into the Krogan hub, with the blistering sun hitting his face. but when he exited into the harsh brightness, Anya suck it up and opted for the least tactful approach. She grabbed Garrus' arm. "I don't know what I did, but whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"Shepard, I-"

His answer was interrupted by Wrex calling them over to a group of nearby Krogan. The entire ship port experience was Wrex just dragging her around, telling slightly exaggerated stories of how badass he was to prove a point. She understood that for a merc coming home, this was the equivalent of networking. But with the turian on his other side, she couldn't help but feel like she had some things to say that were getting overrun by Wrex's posturing.

That is, until she felt a bullet whiz past her ear. She turned her head around and saw a trio of Krogan running their way. With a quick order to take cover barked at her companions, Anya dove behind cover as quickly as she could. From the looks of their armor, they didn't seem to have any merc gang affiliations, so her only source of information was the krogan in cover next to her. "What the hell, Wrex?! You told me not to wear armor!"

He shrugged. "I figured someone might come after me. Chances were low, but it definitely proves a bigger point if we kick their ass in no armor."

"You're not wrong, but I hate you for it. You owe me new workout gear if this gets bloody."

"I can do that."

Lucky for her, Wrex brought along the two best shots on the team. And even better, the krogan attacking were mostly relying on shotguns. They just had to shoot 'em out before they got too close. She just had to hope their durability wasn't great.

Just as they downed the lead krogan, she noticed a shimmer on the other side of Garrus. Any infiltrator knew what that meant. "Vakarian! Tactical cloak to your left." Garrus reacted accordingly and they shot the stealthy one down, but it made her a little more wary of what they were up against. Looking towards her krogan friend, she yelled, "Shit, Wrex, they must really want you dead."

"Great, huh?"

"Not the word I'd use for it."

Anya was about to peek out from cover and take some shots at the final krogan, but Garrus beat her to the punch. "Shepard, look out!" He was rolling from his cover to hers and dragged her to where Wrex was hiding.

And right after they got behind the metal crates, the final krogan barrelled through the box she'd been hiding behind. Her eyes met Garrus' and she said, "Thanks." The second she spoke, though, he released her waist like it was a ticking grenade and instead stood up, shot the krogan in the eye, and he dropped dead.

Wrex stood up and smirked. "That's the best welcome home present I've ever gotten."

"Bud, we're gotta have a conversation about what you find endearing." Taking a deep breath, Anya glanced down at her shirt and noticed there was a few drops of blood on her. They seemed to be coming from a forehead scrape from when Garrus dragged her away from the danger box. "Shit. And you definitely owe me new clothes."

"Technically Garrus did that."

"Yeah, but you're the one who made me come without my gear."

"Fine, I'll send the credits. But it was worth it."

When her omni-tool pinged with the money, she let out a sigh. It also emptied out any annoyance for putting her life in danger, since everyone always did that to her all the time. Including herself. "Tell us if you got too many assassins to handle."

"I think I'll be set after that display of quads." Then, Wrex turned to her and Garrus and pulled them into a hug. "Until next time." And when he stepped back, he gave Anya a wink. "Vakarian. Shepard."

She rolled her eyes, but played along. "Wrex."

And then he picked up his bag and walked off.

Anya should definitely be less surprised that they just had the most krogan goodbye in existence. But for now, she'd settle for getting off the damn planet. She just jogged her ass back to the drop ship. While Shepard wasn't one for running away, she also wasn't about to encourage any other krogan to try to fight her, not like this. If she was lucky she could rub out the blood and have two pairs of good workout gear.

Garrus followed behind silently and, in a few short minutes, they were closed up in the drop ship, her wound was bandaged, and they were heading back to the Normandy.

But that was when the real battle started. Anya hated to admit it, but Joker was right. She couldn't stand not talking to Garrus, and it had to stop. "Garrus..."

"Shepard, I'm leaving."

The words hung between them like a dead man. Her fingers felt numb. After too long of him not looking at her, Anya asked, "What?"

"When we talked, I figured out I wanted to do more for the galaxy. Like you do. And the next day, I got an offer to join the Spectres training program. I said yes."

Everything felt so dry and cold, the air, her skin, the energy between them. Anya didn't really know how to process it. But she did know what she should say, what was honest and true. "You'd make a great Spectre, Garrus." Then, she tried to add it all together, and still ended up lost and confused. "But then why were you avoiding me?"

"Because I didn't know how to tell you I was leaving. Or maybe I just didn't want to tell you." Garrus sighed and sat down next to her. "I know this is what I want, but that doesn't mean I want to leave you. I didn't want you to feel like that's why I did it."

"Of course not. I get it." There were a lot of feelings running around her head, but in all honesty? Few of them had anything to do with him. She was proud of him and admired him. He wanted to be a hero. How could she blame any of her fantastic team for wanting to make a difference, even if it meant leaving her?

The only real things making her pause were her own, irrelevant feelings of attachment to him. And they were her problem, not his. So, like a good friend, Anya shut up the feelings and added, "When do you leave?"

"Two weeks. We'll drop off Liara, check out Alchera for the Council, and then when we stop back to the Citadel to report, I stay."

Anya crossed her arms and gave him the most deadpan, serious look she could. "Well, we got a lot of movies to watch before that, then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You ever heard of James Bond?"

///

The thought of Garrus leaving literally cracks my heart so that’s fun.

I’m sick an burning my tongue with warm beverages like a proper knob, but posting this stuff and being my weird creative self with you folks help make it better <3

The true behind the screens drama is that I’m sick ALL THE TIME so sorry if that’s the narrative 50% of the time.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and double thanks to my lovely patrons:

Danyell Jones

Amy Connolly

If you'd like to support my writing and creations, please go check out my bio for more info :) (hint, I’m trying to buy a desktop to share more of my goon, fandom trash behavior with everyone. Any support is appreciated!)

#Shakarian #Drunk Punch love #femshep x garrus #Garrus Vakarian #Anya Shepard #Mass Effect fanfiction #bioware romances #Mass Effect #Wrex #Liara

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 11

Title: Falling for the Holidays

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 1856

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children. However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Angsty-ish, One bad word (I think).

A/N: I said I wasn’t going to take forever to write the next chapter and I feel like it took me twice as long this time. Ugh. I hope you all forgive me. Thank you for being patient and thank you for showing my series some attention and love. It means a lot to me! Happy Reading! Please let me know what you think! I do adore the feedbacks, even if it’s a gif, emoji, or one word. Thanks again! xx

Series Masterlist

Dean watched her disappear through the crowds. Jo was about to chase after you, but Cass stopped her, reminding the petite blonde how you needed space when you were upset. Disturbing you would only make matters worse, unless it was Dean. But that was no longer an option, since the person she was currently furious with was Dean.

Without relaying a word back to his friends, Dean walked off, exiting the cafeteria. Cass, Jo, and Meg, just watched, not knowing what to do.

Sharing similar characteristics as you, Dean needed time to cool off. Usually, you were the designated Dean-Control person, but that wasn’t an option. The two people who needed each other was the two people who couldn’t be around each other. It was all… very complicated. Before you came along, Dean was a pretty private man. Cass was his only constant friend (his best friend.) But when you came along, Jo started to hang out with them, Benny and Garth came around often, and there were other’s who would stop Dean to say hello through the halls or in the library. Dean was an introvert at best.

“Fuck. This is gonna be some mess, isn’t it?” Jo asked aloud.

“Unfortunately,” Cass sighed, not wanting to think about the repercussions of the feud.

Dean went through the rest of his classes like a zombie, listening to what his professors were saying but not fully grasping it. He just jotted down notes he thought might be important, but didn’t bother to absorb the information like he usually did.

You on the other hand, used your fury to type down word for word everything your professor spoke, even his terrible jokes. You had no idea what he was saying, but your fingers had no time to rest. You needed to focus your pent up energy on something otherwise you’d lose it.

When classes were over, Dean dragged his way to his truck, sitting there for a while, wondering if you were going show up. Dean sat up straight when he saw you walking down the campus, but instantly slumped back into his seat when he noticed a black sports car pull up in front of you. The driver’s side window was open and Dean’s fists clenched around the steering wheel when he noticed who it was.

“Ketch,” he growled, intensely staring.

When his eyes averted back to you, both your eyes suddenly met. You were a little shocked and so was Dean, but you could see the pain in his expression even from yards away. Brushing the feelings away, you hopped into the car.

“Hello, beautiful. How was your classes?” Ketch asked.

“It was boring as usual,” you told him, glancing back in time to see Dean race out of the parking lot.

You felt a little guilty because you knew your words had hurt, but so did his. But you knew Dean better than that and you knew he didn’t mean what he said, but still… he didn’t deserve your understanding. He stepped over the line and now he had to pay the consequences however, the look he gave you when you said you never wanted to see or talk to him again made your stomach sink. Regret washed all over him and you knew then that he was sorry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him head on, at least not in a room full of people. You couldn’t let them see you cry.

“Everything alright? You seem a little distracted,” Ketch brought you out of your thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” you sent him a weak smile, “just a rough day.”

“Oh. Well, if you want to go home, I can drop you off. I don’t mind a raincheck. You don’t have to go out with me if you’re not up for it.”

“No, it’s fine. A distraction from my distraction could be just what I need. I’m glad you called, I really am,” you assured him.

“Okay, great. Are you hungry?” You could tell he was trying to change the subject and lighten up the mood, much to your relief.

“Starved,” was you reply.

Ketch brought you to a quaint little restaurant. It was practically a hole in the wall. You’ve been there once with Dean, but neither of you liked what was served on the menu, claiming it was “too healthy,” but you didn’t want to offend Ketch, so you went along with it.

“Have you ever eaten here before?” He asked, as the he lead you to a table next to the window.

“I’ve been here once, when it first opened. Dean and I came here to try it out,” you explained.

“Dean? Was he an old boyfriend?” Ketch wondered.

“O-oh. Um, Dean is my…” you didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Ketch was more than capable to put two and two together.

“Oh. Your best friend. The one you told me about. I see. So his name is Dean.”

“Yeah. I mean… we’re friends and I figured I could trust you.” You looked at him with hesitant eyes, reluctant to believe that maybe it was a bad idea.

“Yes. Of course. You can trust me. I’m not here to judge anyone,” Ketch replied. A sense of relief washed over you. There weren’t many people you opened up to, so knowing Ketch was someone you could trust made everything a lot lighter.

“Thank you, Ketch. It makes me so relieved to know I can count on you.”

“Always,” he smiled with soft brown eyes showing his sincerity.

Dean raced back to his apartment, coming to a slow stop when he finally cooled down. He cursed himself for being an idiot, assuming that you had called Ketch to pick you up instead of catching a ride with him, but he couldn’t blame you. He had ditched you that morning and during lunch he insulted you. Everything was his fault. Karma was a bitch.

“Dammit!” Dean shouted in his truck, banging on the steering wheel, his chest heaving with frustration.

A knock on his window made him jump, distracting him from his current thoughts. “Dean?”

“L-Lisa?” He stared at her with confusion. “What—” Dean opened the door, stepping out of his truck when he realized it that she wouldn’t be able to hear him clearly. “What are you doing here?” He questioned, his eyes catching Ben in the car parked a few spaces behind her.

“We wanted to come see you,” she admitted.

“Doesn’t Ben have school or something?”

“Oh! Yes he does, but he’s in preschool, so he’ll be fine,” Lisa explained.

“Oh. I see.” Dean didn’t say it out loud, but he thought that it was a little extreme that she’d take Ben out of school just to visit him, especially since he’d be back home for Christmas in a at the end of the instruction week.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. Why, right?” When Dean didn’t reply, she took that as her cue to speak again. “Can we just go inside and talk about it? Ben and I are freezing.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Let’s go—”

“Mom! I’m hungry!” Ben screamed, his voice muffled by the car window.

“Looks like the kid has spoken. Why don’t you both hope into the truck and we go get something to eat?” Dean suggested.

“That sounds amazing,” Lisa smiled, skipping over to Ben.

With everyone in the truck, Ben sandwiched between his mom and Dean, they sped off into the center of town. School had just ended, so the traffic was pretty heavy. “Oh. c’mon. I hate the afterschool rush,” Dean grumbled.

You were about to take a bite out of your salad when you happened to look out the window. It was hard to miss the red Ford truck passing through with not only Dean in the hunk of metal, but Ben and Lisa as well.

A loud clank echoed through the restaurant as your fork crashed onto the ceramic plate.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” Ketch, along with everyone else in the restaurant, stared at you with concern, a few patrons glaring at you with irritation. “Y/N.” Only when Ketch placed his hand over yours did you snap back to reality.

“What? Uh… sorry. I – I thought I saw something,” you faked a chuckle.

“What was it?” Ketch asked, turning around to take a glimpse out the window behind him.

“It… it was nothing. Sorry. I guess my mind was playing tricks on me. I must be really hungry,” you joked.

The rest of the evening, you were a little – or a lot – out if. Ketch had to steer you around many times, and had to yank you back from walking into traffic.

“Y/N, what in god’s name is going on in that head of yours?” He snapped, grabbing you by the arms and looking you into the eyes. You could tell that he was worried, so you weren’t offended by his scolding.

“Sorry. I think I’m just a little tired. It was a long weekend and a rough day at school.”

“Hey. It’s okay. How about I just take you home, hm?” You nodded your head in a response, allowing him to take your hand and lead the way back to his car.

Rounding a corner, you and Ketch came to an abrupt stop, almost running into a group of people.

“Oh, pardon u—” Ketch didn’t finish, flinching. “Li—B—umm, Dennis?” Ketch stammered.

“Dea-Dennis?” Your attention drew to Ketch. Who the hell was Dennis? You had heard that name before… Quickly averting your attention back to the group in your path, you stared at them. “Dean? Lisa?”

“Y/N?” Lisa seemed to be surprised as well. There was a flicker in her eyes when they barely landed on Ketch that had you thinking, perhaps, they new each other. “U-um, hi,” Lisa was able to pull her self back together quickly, a big smile adorning her lips. “Who’s your friend?”

“Uh, Lisa, Dean, Ben, this is Ketch,” you introduced.

“Dean? I think we’ve met. Didn’t you say your name was Dennis?” Ketch announced, his head tilting a tad.

“Wait, you two have met before?” Lisa chimed in.

“Lisa, do you know Ketch?” You added to the conversation, directing your question at the brunette.

“Funny story…” Dean chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, as he figured out a plausible explanation.

Everything was in disarray and everyone was talking all at the same time, holding multiple conversations that quickly started to make no sense. When you finally took control and stopped the madness, you all noticed that Ben was missing.

“Where’s Ben?” Lisa asked, snapping her head side to side in search for her four-year old son. “Ben?!”

Panic shot threw all of you. “It’ll be easier with we split up,” Dean advised, looking over at you, standing directly in front of him.

“Agreed,” Ketch responded.

It took less than a second for you and Dean to pull your eyes away from each other when you noticed that Ketch and Lisa were gone. It was a little weird, but it wasn’t the time to think about that. The priority was Ben.

Say Something Nice Here!

Falling for the Holidays Tags: @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @winchesterprincessbride@amanda-teaches @dancingalone21 @a-winchester-fairytale @dolphincliffs @oneshoeshort @brewsthespirit-blog @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @atc74 @natasha-baggins@heavymetalhauswife @linki-locks11 @spnwoman @veevm @chameleah86 @kdcollinsauthor @claitynroberts @roonyxx@rainflowermoon @ladylaylo @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93 @salt-n-burn-em-all @flamencodiva @fangirlanotherjust @tabbyjane@shamelesslydean @couldabeenamermaid @alexwinchester23 @algud @gracefultrenchcoat494 @prettyinplaid94 @shhhs3cret @cookiechipdough @justkending

#dean winchester x reader au #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn au #dean winchester #reader insert #supernatural #dean winchester series #dean winchester series au #Falling for the Holidays #squirrel-moose-winchester

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luvrgirl555 · 6 years ago

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if i drink enough it’ll go away (Roger Taylor x Reader)

a/n- this is kind of okay. idk i’m in an angsty mood. i wrote this instead of doing my chem homework so i’m doing great obviously. please send in requests!! i want to write more but i want to write what the people want to hear about (: send me anything anytime!! also to take care of you is getting a part two just so y’all know.

angst

1.4k+ words

summary: we all know roger’s reputation. pretty lil fuckboy.

you could barely hear the music around you because of how much alcohol you’d consumed over the past few hours. shot after shot made the pain go away and the hustle of freddie’s party around you was a perfect distraction.

you blinked heavily as you plopped yourself on the ground in the middle of the living room. just as you took another swig of beer john came running up to you and scooped you up in his arms.

“you’re going to get trampled, doll,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

you giggled and hiccuped. the alcohol bubbling in your stomach making your brain flood with dopamine.

the beer in your hand was gone when john met up with brian, you still in his arms. brian snatched the bottle from your hands and your bottom lip quivered. “bri,” you pouted.

john put you down on the counter of the much quieter kitchen and sighed.

brian threw the empty glass in the trash and hurried back over to you.

“you’re completely shit-faced,” he said matter-of-factly.

“could i have another? that last one tasted really good,” you asked and clasped your hands together as if you were begging on your knees.

“i’m cutting you off,” john said while rubbing the back of his neck.

your eyes darted to brian who sighed and shook his head. “you can’t have anymore. you’re already going to be drunk for days at this rate.”

you rolled your eyes and lied your head down on the countertop, sprawling your body across the island. brian and john continued to whisper while you closed your eyes, trying to listen to the bass of the music in the other room.

you finally sat up, and tried to get off the countertop but brian held your arms and you couldn’t leave.

“where you off to?” he inquired.

“i’m getting more alcohol, brian,” you wriggled out his arms and got your feet to reach the floor.

“love, you can’t keep doing this,” john followed you back into the party.

“why the hell not?” you asked as you took a glass of champagne from one of the servers.

john and brian just looked at each other, defeated looks in their eyes and you shook your head and tried to join back in on the party.

“i’m going to phone him, he’s the only person she’ll listen to this shit-faced. always has been,” john said and brian nodded reluctantly.

“phone who?” you asked and john just walked off.

you huffed and threw yourself back into the dancing and booming music. consuming more and more alcohol.

* * * * *

roger was less than thrilled about the fact that he’d received three phone calls in the last ten minutes.

in fact, he was in a foul mood and thought that maybe beating his drums would air out some frustrations, but that didn’t seem to be working either.

his next best bet was to drink but he didn’t have any alcohol left at home and before he could leave for the pub down the road from his apartment he was annoyed with three phone calls.

he finally picked up on the fourth and just said, “roger taylor.”

“rog, you gotta come round to freddie’s,” john spoke quickly, almost frantically.

“god fuc-” roger started, but cooled his temper before speaking. “is that all you called me for, deaky? by the three times you’ve rung i thought someone might be dead.”

“y/n could possibly die if you don’t come round,” john spoke and roger just scoffed. “i’m serious! she’s gonna get alcohol poisoning or maybe just the worst hangover ever.”

“she doesn’t want to see me, deaky,” roger said, his voice low.

“maybe not, but you both need to see each other.”

roger rolled his eyes and tapped his foot on the ground before groaning.

“fine, i’ll be round in like fifteen, keep her hands off alcohol ‘til then, will you?”

roger hung up before john could say anything else.

* * * * *

john was never really one to be the center of the crowd at these parties or even try to be, but he found talking with freddie in the center of the front room. he sidled up next to you and found brian sitting on a couch across the room giving him a small nod.

brian nodded back and continued talking to chrissie next to him. john gently pulled the drink from your hands, an easy task because of how distracted you were, and put it on a table.

you finally turned to him and a wide smile graced your lips, “deaky!” you shouted in delight and he gave you a sad smile in return.

“finally joining the party!” freddie laughed and giggled with him.

but your giggle subsided when a familiar fur jacket and cologne scent entered the door. not even being this drunk could make you forget those darling baby blues.

freddie cheered, along with everyone else wanting roger to join the festivities, but he politely declined every girls offer to go find a bathroom until he found you.

as he approached you held john’s hand tightly and freddie stared daggers into roger’s chest.

“hey, sweets,” roger greeted and you looked at the ground. “i need to talk to you a minute. mind if i take you home?”

you looked up at john, almost searching for approval and his hand squeezed yours before letting go.

you looked back at roger and nodded slowly, hugging your arms around yourself.

roger inhaled slowly before taking off his coat and wrapping around you. he slung his arm around your waist to lead you through the hoards of people and out to his car.

you didn’t notice how woozy you were until you got a breath of the cold, wet london air. you couldn’t see straight and roger had to physically hold you up at times.

he sat you in the front seat of his car and buckled you in, snugly wrapping his jacket around you.

you sighed and covered your face with your hands as he got in on the drivers side.

* * * * *

stepping into roger’s disaster of an apartment brought back a flood of memories and you bit your lip as you looked around. there were clothes everywhere, furniture knocked over, empty beer bottles littering the floors and whiskey bottles all over the coffee table. he took a cigarette out of his pocket and placed it in his mouth before sitting down at the couch that you remember.

the entire apartment was still, musky and dark.

though you coulnd’t figure out why, roger knew it was because his light was gone.

“you can sleep on the bed. i’ll stay out here,” he said and light his cigarette.

you pulled the fur coat around you tightly, covering your exposed midriff and legs. miniskirt and crop top had been a cold option for tonight’s party.

you hiccuped before sitting down next to him.

he looked at you, surprised as you lay your head on his shoulder.

you sat sildently for a few moments, the only sound was of his breathing and the light was the ember of cigarettes and monlight shing through the curtains.

you didn’t even noticed tears rolling down your cheeks until you blurted out:

“how many?”

he sat up straighter and you lied your heavy head on his lap.

“one,” he whispered. “once. and god, it was the worst mistake i’ve ever made.”

the day you found pink panties in rogers coat pocket was a day etched in your brain for all your life.

you just breathed shakily and closed your eyes hard, trying desperatly to forget and bring yourself back to a time where nothing had gone wrong.

before you knew what was happening you felt yourself being held bridal style, choking on your own sobs.

you melted into the duvet when roger set you down on the bed as sobs ripped through your body.

you held to the pillows desperatly trying to keep your brain from moving too fast to no avail.

the other side of the bed sunk and you opened your eyes as a pair of gentle hands wiped the tears from your face.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered. “i never meant to hurt you, y/n.”

“did you ever love me at all?” you sniffled.

he kissed your forehead softly. “i’ve loved you every day of my life.”

* * * * *

when roger taylor awoke the next morning his fur coat was hung neatly in the closet, his blanket smelled like your perfume and a glimmering diamond attached to a gold band still sat in his bedside drawer.

a gold band that fit your finger perfectly.

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 6 years ago

Text

... apparently, these are becoming a weekly endeavor. (watch me getting an autoblock as soon as I post this) ( AO3 )

tl;dr Hawks is in high spirits (no pun intended), and Rumi’s Intrigued™

Meanwhile, somewhere not too far away, a vaguely annoyed Dabi is sneezing a whole lot, questioning whether his feeble ass is allergic to feathers.

(((I almost chose an angsty ending. Almost. But apparently I cannot do that with series and games that are not depression station in the first place, F.)))

“Say… you are in a reeeeeally good mood today, aren'tcha?” Rumi notes between two obnoxious milkshake slurps next to the remaining morsels of their lunch while taking a full round on the revolving barstool. It’s a Monday, it’s a conference day, a boring conference day where she’s about to kill herself out of sheer boredom… and Hawks, who’s usually also only present in body and ready to passive-aggressively tear the thing down, is radiating a hundred different levels and shades of sunlight. Of course she’s gonna jump on this.

“Huh?” the hero replies, returning to the present; the pen he’s got bouncing between two fingers while reading through the despair-inducingly thick paper pile in front of him (most likely invitations and offers of various kinds) never stops in its fast, metronome-like movement. The little smile that's been plastered over his face all day perks up a little as he looks at her, too. He’s obviously missed the question directed at him, but doesn't seem to be bothered by it.

“I said you are in a good fucking mood, twerp,” his friend repeats with a click of the tongue. Something’s definitely up. “And that you didn't catch it is all the damn proof I need. Haven't seen you this well-adjusted since… ever, actually.” Slurrrp.

“Aaah… guess so,” he muses with the rhythm slowing and a thoughtful expression for a change.

“I had the best fucking sleep ‘since ever’ is all.” The pause preceding this is uncharacteristically long, and his persistent smile returns before he even reaches the conclusion.

“You slept?” chortles Rumi in disbelief, then starts choking as some of the remaining milkshake finds its way to her lungs. The plausible fact that this alone could make him feel alive should not be this funny.

Hawks’ smile widens into a grin and he leans onto an elbow, shoving the documents aside. “Seven hours and thirteen whole-ass minutes, bitch. It's a new record!” It wasn't exactly that much, probably just under seven if he wanted to be honest. But point stands.

Once having regained composure, the heroine lets the information linger for a few seconds. Hmm. Hmmm… “Explains why you are functional and were late for the meeting. What it doesn’t explain is how you, Mr. 10 minutes ahead of everyone’s schedule… early bird extraordinaire… slept in.” That goofy expression is not his usual one, no. There's a snoop to be had, here. After a deep, deep, grin-ridden sigh, she turns back to him, leaning on the counter as well. “Has it got anything to do with dodging, like, all of my invitations lately? Hmm?” She wiggles her brows at him.

Man… she just went there, didn't she. Unfortunately, the persistent smile refuses to cover for him. In fact, it's more incriminating than anything, creeping wider once more. Well then. “Hasn't got as much to do with it as you would like, fam. There's only about… 15% of overlap.” Plus some change.

Maybe more, now that he thinks about it… because the disturbingly domestic (and even worse, occasionally comforting and enjoyable) shenanigans with the League have long outgrown the ‘meeting up with actual S-rank villains in my fake free time because spy lmao’ category. Rumi wouldn't buy that anymore, she's seen enough to know that he's full of shit.

There's a glint of a hunter’s in Rumi’s eyes… a hunter’s that has found fresh track. Her grin turns into a triumphant sneer. “So you do admit to seeing someone.”

The smile on Hawks’ face gains a streak of concern. “Please don't make me think about it in those terms,” he moans, furrowing his brows. “Any of the people I've been dealing with are freaks of nature.”

“So are we,” she notes, not missing a beat.

That earns a similarly fast fling-and-point of a pen in her general direction. “Word.”

She snickers. “Come on…! Tell me about that dreamy 15% that has you so pepped. I'm dying to know~”

He thinks about it for a bit. Then, the feathers of Hawks’ wings rustle, and he himself takes a gander around the restaurant; there's mostly heroes, sidekicks and managers gathered in the building in the first place, who are similarly disinterested in each other's dwindling lunch break times and private lives. While assessing the room, he's silently weighing his options as to how much he can say, and how he should choose his words.

“So… I've been roped into a kind of internship in the past months that I wanted nothing to do with, and am still hella iffy about,” he begins, keeping it just low enough for it to be not overly suspicious.

“Good start!”

“I know, right? Anyway… it's dirty work, but turned out to be tolerable, most of the time. The coworkers are all bonkers, but I've already come to the terrifying conclusion that I'm not all that different.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Hush, I'm telling your story…! Who you might be interested in, I think, is the contact person that keeps a close eye on me even today.”

“OOOH, this is getting spicy~ are they, like, twice your age? You are into older people, after all. Oh, and dude or lady? Other, maybe? You are being really cagey.”

“What did I just say?! Also, I'm not into older people. This peep is up to five years my senior, tops.”

“Never had to listen to yourself when going on about Endeavor, have you!? And see? You just admitted the peeper is older!”

“That’s fan rambling, and ever since I had to work with him, I have held my horses in check, hon. As for the other thing? Honestly, I never asked about their birthday or age, but I've been getting older sib vibes. Could be younger or as old as I am, for all I know. But let me fucking continue. SO… we've been getting along okay lately. Way too well, actually, considering the mutually hostile ~strictly professional~ gig we both started out with. Not that we're not assholes to each other still, but we are… like, frenemies.”

“Strangely mysterious person is already starting to sound like you.”

“…”

“Okay, Pot, okay!! Stop looking all disappointed and tell me about Kettle.”

“… Kettle will be a great stand-in name, thanks for the contribution. You are allowed to acknowledge this with a hum.”

“Mhmm.”

“Excellent. Back on topic… as you know, my yesterday… had been a thing.” For the first time that day, the smile disappears entirely.

Rumi hums again with a nod, which doesn't get shot down. From what Hawks was willing to share about family, it had been obvious that he wasn't on particularly good terms with his parents in the first place, but…

“Long story short, yesterday was also internship day, and I was in a pretty bad mood when we met. Tired, anxious, angry, you name it, I had it. Thankfully there's no news coverage, and I didn't want to bring it up, either… but Kettle… knows me well enough to tell when I’m faking it. And how to push my buttons. The prodding got the best of me, eventually; really, this irritating bitch can get under my skin with an efficiency you can only dream of… but anyway, I was so pissed... like, borderline feral, that even they were surprised. Which, in turn, made me feel like a wreck once I realized what I was doing. So they hammered the last nail into the coffin by putting on their calmest, most civil face, -a rarity, really,- to ask the single, logical question in that situation. And I caved. For a dreadful moment I honest to god thought Kettle would make fun of me, you know. What kind of number two hero has their mother stuck in detox every three months…? Fuck, if not for the bar fight, I wouldn't even know she relapsed two whole years ago already! But, uh… they… seemed to understand. We had a therapy session for peasants at my place, then. Kinda like what we have sometimes. And that's when it really got…” Tongue click. “… heavy.”

Rumi’s ears have been attentive and alert, but hearing this makes them part. She takes a second-long break; there's something that usually helps Hawks sleep a little better. And heart-to-hearts tend to push him over the brink, hell, some nights they do this just so he can get some rest. “… You cried.”

With some delay, he nods. “… I did.”

She lets out a tired sigh. “Managed to weird ‘em out, huh.”

“Actually… it ended up being a half drunk weeping contest for the emotionally constipated,” he muses, eyes staring into a scene from the past, located somewhere past the pen in his right hand. “They opened up a little to me, too. Which was new, but… comforting. I learned that while my mother frequents the station, Kettle’s mom has been hospitalized with a severe case of mental breakdown since they were a teen. They miss her… but cannot visit. They fear that showing their scarred face would make her relive the freak show that resulted in her being sent there in the first place.”

“ … Jesus. Both of you sound like the life of the party when running a hashtag-mood.”

The remark brings back the shadow of his happy smile. “I guess so. But, guess what?”

Hers returns as well; they reached the nice part. “What?”

“I ended up leaning onto Kettle… and them onto me. We hugged it out… and stayed like that for like an hour, the sniffling messes we were. And in the morning… I woke up in the arms of someone, warm and safe… sun shining into the room, little bastard relatives chirping outside. I could even smell fresh coffee being made someplace, coming from the open window. And that… that felt divine.”

Rumi takes a delighted sigh. “The life, bitch. That's… the life.”

“Yeah.”

They lie around like that for a few minutes, sprawled on the counter as the noises of the still busy restaurant creep back into their little bubble before it inevitably pops. Hawks breaks the comfortable silence then. “All in all… I admit that you have been right about me all along.”

Her feet bounce an increasingly impatient rhythm against the metal frame as her mood and blood pressure lift back to normal. “Right about what? You are a felon for not supporting pugs, an abomination for even daring to look at pineapple pizza, and an absolute disgrace for turning down ghost peppers! Be more clear, dammit.”

Hawks tosses the long forgotten pen onto the form pile and leans in closer, hiding his mouth with his hands from view. He breathes it in a whisper so low, only people with superhuman hearing or big ole rabbit ears could catch his voice right now. It’s time to make her day, too. “Rumi, I think… I'm hella gay.”

She reflexively does a little hop on the stool as a very high pitched “Holy shit…!” escapes her mouth, turning some heads. Seeing that it's the two of them up to their usual shenanigans, the few people return to their own worries and discussions.

It takes her inhuman effort not to screech like a hare on the spot; punching the air and gasping for it, she calms down eventually. Having found a semblance of self-restraint, she leans back down in, aggressively whispering to him: “First of all, told you so, and more importantly!! Bitch, you're in love, and didn't tell me?!”

As much as Hawks enjoyed watching her outburst, he finds himself sinking behind his arms now. The incessant grin is back in its full glory and is starting to hurt his cheeks, which have turned very pink in color. An unconvincing “nah” is the only thing he can muster.

Rumi breaks into some light-hearted cackling as she moves over, then gently peels Hawks’ defenses off of him to have a closer look. “Bruuuh…! You are in full rose textured shojo manga mode. That's adorable.”

There’s an attempt at rebuilding said defenses. “Shut it, you overgrown furry.”

She’s unperturbed by the lukewarm defensive taunt. “And you kinda smell like smoke from up close, too~ It’s your first love, right? Aaah, baby boy’s growing up, I’m so happy for you…!” With that, Hawks receives a spine shattering hug.

“Rumimyribs,” is all he can squeak before the gesture does more than just some joint popping. He’s had a near-death experience with these ever since the first time she did that, holy shit.

“Hee hee~ I didn’t forget you’ve got bones made of glass, don’t worry.” She pops back down onto her seat while Hawks gets over the scare. “Sooo... when are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?”

“It’s… just a crush, man. He’s… not my boyfriend…” Even thinking about it feels weird… and saying it… really is something else.

She nods. “He doesn’t know it yet! Gotcha.”

Siiigh. “Girl, I can’t just…” STOP, stop… hold the damn phone right there. Ending that sentence would birth more questions to dodge, and he’s not up for brain work at the moment. With a dismissive wave, Hawks restarts the answer. “Anyway, you've seen him already at the very least, so there’s that.” That's all she needs to know- they both know a number of people with fucked-up faces, she won’t admit possibly having missed him, and this… will destroy her.

“… well shit. Now I'll stay up at night wondering who the fuck it might be.”

Bingo. “You’re welcome.”

“Asshole,” she huffs, swatting his hair before settling for a good ruffling. “… say, baby bird.”

“Hm?”

“Want a drink? It's on me. Let's pop one in honor of your heart throb and first crush.”

... uh-oh. “… Rumi.”

“I hope you know this calls for some supreme shit… let me look for a good place nearby, for after this hell is over.”

She's already typing into her phone. Oh no.

“Rumi.” This does not bode well. He has so much shit to do tomorrow. And here’s this pile of junk, most of which he’s yet to have a look at…

“How’s a Zombie sound?”

“RUMI,,,”

#miruko #hawks #bnha miruko #bnha Hawks #dabihawks #even though Dabi's not here #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #Kate writes

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no-i-didnt-notice-im-short · 7 years ago

Note

"I didn't ask to be born" (I'm feeling extra angsty right now) with Lance. Let's Say whatever happens and he screams this in front of the others ahhh (obvs i self project so you can take this however you want)

I hope you like it!

Growing up the youngest of 4 is not really a walk in thepark as people tend to make it out to be. Especially when your parents are notreally young, they tend of have already knocked themselves out with thewhole raising-children-thing way before you were even born.

So you are left with tired glances and the occasional hugand kiss on forehead.

This has been Lance’s reality for as long as he canremember. It’s not that his parents don’t love him; they just have a lot ontheir minds with his sister’s wedding and his brothers’ universities. So he decidedto stay on the side lines and let everyone live their lives while he watchedand attempts to live his like everything is normal.

It’s late at night that he starts to have the unwantedintrusive thoughts about how guilty must his parents feel since they just can’traise another child at their age or how by the time comes they won’t t haveenough money to put him through college which basically means they are throwingaway his future just because he happens to be the last born.

So to relieve them of all this, he worked himself to thebone trying to get a scholarship to Galaxy Garrison. And he did.

If anyone was to ask him, he would say it was all for thelook of pride on his parent’s face when he told them about getting the scholarship.But deep down, he realized it didn’t really fill the void and the emptinessthat seemed to reside in him, giving his thoughts the medium to remind him how muchhe was a burden to his family and how relieved they must feel when the constantreminder, that was Lance, finally left.

But things were going great atGarrison. Sure he didn’t get Fighter pilot, but he was finally his ownperson. He can do what he wants without the constant fear of saying somethingthat might upset his parents or doing something that might embarrass hissiblings. He was Lance McClain now. Just Lance. And for once that was enough.

But then Voltron Happened and his whole dynamic shifted uponhis head.

Right from the beginning he could sense the return of thevoid inside him. Small gestures became a catalyst to his undoing, whether it’san eye roll or a Shut up Lance. It all had the same effect of bringingback unwanted thoughts.

And before he could help it, LanceMcClain was not enough anymore.

It’s not that they were ignoring him.

It’s just that they all had more important shit to do.Whether it being technological breakthroughs or battle strategizing or joiningsecret Galra alliances. He just didn’t have a purpose anymore. Hell, even beinga paladin wasn’t that special anymore.

Shiro is back in Black, Keith could come back to Red anytimeand Allura had Blue. Lance could leave at any second and it wouldn’t reallymatter to… anyone.

He started spending more time alone holed up in his roomplaying video games or in the training room, as its former resident went off tojoin the Blade.

No one seemed to notice so he keptpretending. He may laugh too loudly or joke too frequently but it all seemed tobe in character as no one noticed.

Then Lotor joined the team andLance didn’t really mind the guy. He seemed pretty genuine about his attemptsand it saddened Lance that he had to used him as a tool to keep his personagoing, he would act extra dramatically whenever Lotor would talk to Allura orplainly whenever he would just talk. But even that was becoming harder to keepup.

It was all in the span of aminute.

They were deciding on what to doabout one of the Galra ships that seemed to be following them for the past fewdays. It had put everyone on edge as they just couldn’t shake it.

Pidge and Hunk were huddledtogether with Matt trying to find a way to hack into the ship’s mainframe fromthe castle while Lotor and the visiting Blade members discussed the possibleidentities of their pursuers.

Lance was standing on theside-line watching everything in front of him unfold as he didn’t seem to fitinto any of the group’s ‘categories’. It was like his household all over again.

It crossed his mind the idea thatthey could hide on the alien planet he and Hunk landed on after they crashedfrom the corrupted wormhole back after their first fight against Zarkon.

He walked up to Shiro, who wasplanning their course with Allura, and tapped his shoulders. Shiro glanced atLance with the corner of his eye and said,

“Not now, Lance. We are busy.”

“Yeah I know, Shiro. I actuallyhave an idea about where we could hide.”

“Earth is not an option.”

Lance’s words died in his mouth. Earthis not an option. Lance is not dumb to suggest going to earth to hide.Especially with that crazy Galra following them like a tail.

“No, I was actually going tosugg-“

“I SAID NOT NOW LANCE!”Shiro all but lashed out at Lance.

Lance’s blood ran cold. Everyoneon the bridge went silent and stared at Shiro.

Lanceremembered all the times his father would come home and yell at him justbecause he was tired and he still had to deal with a child after a long day’swork at his old age. So Lance was pretty used to this treatment. It’s just thathe thought he had left this treatment back on earth with his parents andIverson.

He realized he will never truly be enough. Not to anyone.

Shiro stared at Lance. He couldn’tbelieve he actually yelled at one his paladins, let alone Lance.

Shiro had noticed the toned downshift in Lance’s attitude and, contrary to everyone’s beliefs, he didn’t reallylike it. He preferred the outgoing Lance that changed the subject when thingsgot too stressful or lightens the mood when a mission doesn’t go as planned.Shiro would rather that guy but sadly he had to admit that he didn’t prefer himin times of strategy. He needed planners and Lance was not a planner. At leastthat’s the impression he got.

This Galra has been followingthem for a while and it was driving Shiro insane being in the dark aboutsomething like this.He and Allura set up camp on thebridge trying to find a safe haven for the castle.

And truth be told, he hadn’t sleptfor a couple of days and was basically living off the coffee equivalent Hunkmanaged to conjure up from ingredients he got from the space mall. So he wasn’treally in the mood for someone to ruin their hard, but fruitless, work.

Shiro had thought that he finallygot the location perfected before Lance spoke up the first time and completelycut his train of thoughts.

And before he knew it, he hadyelled at Lance in front of everyone.

Everyone.

Galra and paladin alike.

And itsickened Shiro. He would never wish this type of humiliation upon anyone.

“Lance. I didn’t-“

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?” Lanceyelled. Completely fuming. Shiro went pale, ice filling his veins. “ALL IWANTED TO SAY WAS A SUGGESTON! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY! I KNOWI DOn’t contribute much to the team but you really didn’t have to rub it in. Everyoneshuts me up when I talk or rolls their eyes when I do something that isn’t fucking“smart” but I do this to keep all of you from eating each other. But who helpsME? I DIDN’T ASK TO BE FUCKING BORN! FIRST AT HOME AND THEN AT GARRISON AND NOWHERE?! A MILLON LIGHTYEARS FROM EARTH AND I AM STILL TREATED LIKE THIS.”

Shiro knew Lance could probablygo on but his throat clogged up from his sobbing. He wanted so desperately toreach Lance and pull him to the tightest hug he could muster but he seems to befrozen. He knew what Lance did to the team but he always assumed someone must’vebeen helping Lance go through this.

He looked around the room. Alluranext to him. Kolivan and Lotor. Pidge next to Hunk and Matt.

And he finally understood theirmistake.

They all branched up to smallergroups and that was NOT how a team should be.

He went to look back at Lance buthe was already gone.

Shiro could bet his other arm onthe fact that this was long overdue and they all deserved it.

Man i self projected this a little more than i would like to admit. I am so sorry this was so shit.

Part 2

Any thoughts would bedeeply appreciated.

Gotany prompts you’d like me to write? Feel free to drop by and send it ❤

#langst #lance mcclain #shance #ship or not #up to you #shangst #klance works too maybe in future parts #vld #voltron #prompts

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gentlemanmendes · 6 years ago

Text

Beauty Behind the Madness | 23|

Previous parts can be found in my masterlist under beauty behind the madness

A/n lately I’ve been having really bad anxiety at night which is in result is the end of this chapter I apologise for my constantly angsty mood I think it has an affect on my writing lol

Warning not proof read

23:

I placed a kiss on the top of Arleigh’s head causing her to let out a grumble as she walks away from me. I know she’s always hated PDA but I couldn’t help it, I finally had her back and I wanted everyone to see it. Everyone in this moment was the few people eating breakfast at the buffet. Ignoring Alreigh’s eye-roll I grab a stale croissant and make my way back to our table.

“What?” Arleigh quizzed a sheepish smile making its way across her face as she stared at me waiting on an answer.

“Nothing I’m just happy.” I retort with a shrug as the memories of last night rush back to me. Arleigh’s flushed cheeks as she stared up at the roof. I had wondered what she had been thinking, if she had regretted it. We sat in silence for a long time me continuing to stare at Alreigh and although I knew she hated the fact that I wouldn’t stop grinning a her I fought sight of the small smile playing on her lips as she kept her attention completely on her bowl of cereal trying to hide it.

Last night, no matter how cliche it sounds, had been the best night of my life. To be able to physical connect with Alriegh in the way that we emotionally connected felt stronger. It was reassuring, after all this time and everything that happened between us the passion had still be there, and maybe even grown stronger. Everything that has happened in the last few months between us had been a lesson, a lesson that had made me grow in ways I didn’t know were possible but I know that things are far from smooth sailing between Arleigh and I. The last thing I wanted to think about was what would happen when we got home. Our parents will no doubt be pissed, there is the issue of Layla, and the one I dread the most we still need to properly talk about everything that happened that night or more importantly where we now stand with one another.

I refuse to mention any of these things to Arleigh because I don’t want to face reality just yet and I get the feeling she doesn’t want to either. For a few moments we can just escape in the here and now pretending that all our problems are far out of reach.

“Are you nervous?” I ask Arleigh. Today we had only planned our day we hadn’t really gone into much detail, I couldn’t help but wonder what was running through Arleigh’s head right now. Was she scared? I know if the tables were turned I would be, if Mr Axle wasn’t telling her maybe there was a good reason behind it, regardless Arleigh deserved the right to know.

She gave a shrug letting out a sigh as the smile slowly disappeared from her face and for a moment it made me regret what I had asked, I never wanted to see that smile leave her face but it would of happened at some point today.

“I guess.” She paused for a moment frowning lightly to herself as she it down on her lip as of trying to figure out what she would say. “I don’t really know how to explain it.” She sighed again as if trying to let all her trouble out.

“I understand.” And honestly I do, because that was how it felt as I walked the short distance across the park to see her on Thursday night. That seemed so long ago now but it was only three days ago.

“I’m so scared of what will happen but at the same time it will be a relief to finally put this all behind me . But then what if it’s bad and I just ruined everything and won’t be able to go on?”

“Life is like a train station, we always have a choice. You get on a platform and are left with two options, which ever one you choose will lead you to another destination but will also gift you with another decision of where to go next. What’s important is that you don’t dwell on what could have been because at that time that was you wanted to do with the your life. We are always changing our minds, can you imagine if we all thought the way we did ten years ago? Every situation is a lesson learned, if you go find out what happened to your mum I can bet you it will be heart breaking but at least you will find your relief. If you choose not to them at least something decent came out of this whole trip.” I winked at her at the end causing her to laugh again. She looked away as if trying to turn her attention else were to regain her composure before turning back to me, the ghost of a smile still playing on her lips. But her eyes are what caught my attention most. They weren’t as dark and lifeless as they had been a few months ago when she stepped into that classroom and we saw each other for the first time since that night. Now they were bright and full of life, the Alriegh I had always known, she seemed eager to do so much, take everything around her in to stare in the back of her mind for later.

“Since when were you so wise? Shawn Mendes the philosopher.” She exaggerated rolling her eyes causing me to laugh.

Sitting here at breakfast with her I was reminded again of all the reasons why I loved her. The past few months I had missed her but never once realised how good it would feel to have her back in my life. It was as if there had been a hole in me and a part of me was always slowly seeping out of it but Arleigh had just patched it up.

“Since when were you the type to open up about how you feel?” I shot back causing her to narrow her eyes at me skeptically as she mumbled a touché.

“Seems like we both learned a few lessons in these past couple of months.”

“Lessons I never want to learn again.” I breath out leaning back in my chair in relief, it felt like the hardest chapter I had ever undergone in my life was over. Does that mean the story is finally coming to an end? Which again brings me to what happens now with Arleigh and I?

We push ourselves up from the table and thank the waitress before we make our way out of the restaurant, past reception to the doors that led to the car park. As we move to the car to get in I hear someone loudly call my name causing my eyes to widen. It sounded a lot like my mother’s voice. Part of me wants to turn around and see if it really is her or if I’m imagining things but another part of me is positive she really is there and would rather turn and run away instead of facing her right now. I knew I would get into a lot of trouble for this but I thought it would at least be when I got home not before we even found out at we came here to do.

My mum keeps calling out to me and by the sound of her voice I can tell she’s getting closer. Realising that I can’t exactly run away from my mother because I would just be putting off the inevitable, I close the car door and turn around to face her. How the hell did she know where we were? We made sure to be careful, we left our phones and credit cards at home so they wouldn’t be traced.

When my mum gets closer I brace myself for what is to come burI know that no matter how much warning I was given I would never be able to prepare myself to face my mum after what I did. I know it was wrong and selfish and I could have at least left a note but Arleigh needed me and most importantly she needed to make sure her dad never found out. If my parents new where we were they would have told Mr Axle straight away, not to be spiteful just because they would be worried for him and Arleigh.

“Mum I’m…” I attempted to apologies but am quickly cut off by my mum.

“Shawn, what were you thinking?” She shrieks causing me to wince back. I hated putting my parents through this, I hated playing the part of the troubled teen. My parents raised me better than that and I know that every time I do something as bad as this, which has only been a hand full of times, they blame themselves and question their parenting.

For a moment I see sympathy flash across my dads face as he hovers behind my mum but disappointment was quick to return.

“I can not believe you would do something so careless and stupid! Your father and I have never said no to you for anything why wouldn’t you tell us? Tell me what exactly is the meaning of all this shawn? ” she has stopped throwing her hands around and has now placed them on her hips as she looks up at me expectantly waiting for an answer. Although I’m much taller than my mum I can’t help but cower away under her gaze. I open my mouth to answer bug no words come out. What the hell was I supposed to say?

“Mrs Mendes it was me.” For a moment I fell confused having forgotten about Arleigh being here completely but as I watch my parents gaze drift from me to Arleigh, my mother’s expression softening rapidly; she’s always had a soft spot for Arleigh, I feel my body relax at her presence beside me knowing that I wasn’t alone. It was a relief to finally feel as if I finally had someone on my side, to stand by me no matter what, I had been drowning in a sea of loneliness for so long that I had forgotten what it felt like.

“Arleigh?” My mum questions as if surprised that the two of us are together, maybe seeing us side by side is only making it all the more real.

“Arleigh your father is worried sick about you.” My dad jumps in taking a step forward so instead of standing behind my mum he is now beside her.

“Is he,” Arleigh looks behind my parents hesitantly as if expecting her dad to pop out of nowhere. “Is he here?”

“No. We didn’t want him to find shawn alone with you.” my dad reassures her sending her a sympathetic look. I can only imagine just how crazy mr Axle must have gone once he found out that I had magically disappeared the same time as Arleigh had. I feel guilty the most for having put my parents through dealing with how Mr Axle must have reacted.

“Which brings us back to why you two left in the first place.” My mum says although she has seemed to calmed down now with Arleigh in the picture. As long as Arleigh is around I should be safe.

I look over to Arleigh hesitantly as I part my mouth to make something up but she is too focused on the ground and I’m at a complete loss of words. I figure I will just say the first thing that comes to mind and not think it through but Arleigh decides to break her silence.

“I want to know what happened to my mum. ” she answers honestly never lifting her attention from the gravel road of the motel car park that she is focused so intently on.

I don’t know how to respond to that and by the looks on my parents faces they don’t know how to either. They seem completely shocked yet somehow like they had expected this. Sympathy was clear on both their faces and I know that is the reason why Arleigh refuses to meet their gazes. She hates when people feel sorry for her which is one of the reasons she never opens up to people. She wants to come off as this strong hard person when deep down she is soft and emotional. There is nothing wrong with that and I can’t bring myself to understand why she feels the need to display such a hard front and I probably never will. I don’t know why she pretends to be someone she’s not.

“Arleigh this isn’t the right way to find out.” My mum signs causing me to object bug she sends me a warning look. “Shawn don’t you dare start.” She tells me but by the look in her eye I can tell that there is something she isn’t telling me. She is practically pleading me with her eyes not to object and although I want to fight her on this I can’t help but give in. I let out a sigh of dismay but I bid my head in response. My mum moves towards Arleigh and wraps her arm around her.

“Quick question, how did you find us?” I ask the question that is eating at me. We were sure to be as careful as possible and yet they still found us. My mum sends me a knowing look before shaking her head in response.

“Your number plate Shawn. When we woke to your car missing and you weren’t in bed and then a frantic Neighbour we tried calling you but soon figured you didn’t have your phone so we called up the toll company and they managed to tell us what the last toll you payed was and from there it wasn’t hard.” My dad explains astonishing me. I didn’t even think of something as simple as my number plate being traced. “We have been in this world a lot longer than you have.” He adds as of reading my thoughts

“Let’s get the two of you home.” My mum says gesturing towards her car though I will be driving my car with Arleigh home.

“Can I just go see my mum before we leave?” Arleigh asks lifting her gaze from the ground for the first time since we were confronted by my parents. I want to scream out to her to fight for her cause but when I look at her she seems tired, as if she has been fighting this war her whole life and now she was batter and bruised waving a shut flag to surrender and give it all up.

That is why I want to tell her to keep fighting. Arleigh is a fighter, for as long as I’ve known her she has been, which doesn’t make sense. Why is she willing to give up so easily right now? It doesn’t make sense, she is so close now.

My mum nods her head in understanding as she moves towards my dad who has gestured for her to move towards him.

“Why don’t you two go alone and we can meet up and have some lunch before we head home.” My dad suggestions causing Arleigh and I to nod in response but my mum seems a little hesitant but with one knowing look from my dad she gives in.

“Here is your phone, we gave you one for a reason.” My mum glowers as she pulls out my phone from her bag and hands it to me causing me to smile to myself as I make my way to my car.

Just as I’m about to get into my car my mum calls out to me causing me to stop and look at her.

“You’re grounded!” She says before turning around and walking away.

***

I hadn’t said anything to Arleigh on the way to the cemetery and had kept my mouth shut the whole time we were there. I had made to wonder off but instead Arleigh had gripped onto my arm and asked me to stay with her which I agreed to as she parted from my side to place the white lillies on the top of the grave and removing the stem of the previous laid flowers that were now wilted. The only time I had spoken was when Arleigh had just stood in silence staring at the grave.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I wondered a little surprised. I didn’t really know anyone who had died so I hadn’t experienced going to a cemetery and wasn’t aware of what was supposed to happen but I had figured people usually say something.

“Shawn it’s just a decomposed body in a box a few feet underground, why would I say something?” She had sighed causing my grist to feel dry. I should have just kept my mouth shut because I didn’t know what to say back to that. “Some people find comfort in talking to the grave but I don’t. My mum is gone and I can’t change that. I don’t know what happens after but maybe their is a possibility that she already knows everything I want to say to her or maybe she is complete nothing now and forever gone to me. The point is nothing I say will make a difference.” She continues.

I decide to remain quite letting Arleigh pay her respects. The feeling that took over me was complete unease and I can’t help but wonder if that was the reason why I had remained so quite. There was no way to explain it but the fact that realisation hit me that every simple and stupid thing we worry about will one day mean nothing and that there are more important things like making sure the people we love know that we love them.

“It scares me too you know,” Arleigh says breaking the silence that had settled between us the last few hours. My mum had texted me the name of the restaurant she and my dad would be meeting us at. I look over to Arleigh for a breif second confused but she is still staring out at the road in front of us. "Dying, it scares me as well, I’m pretty sure it scares everyone.“ Arleigh continued I opened my mouth wanting to ask her how she knew what I was thinking about by decided against it. Was I that predictable? With Arleigh it always seemed I was, she was like a mind reader b

"It just sucks that we have no control over it.” I admit instead of denying the fact. What was the point. I realised in that moment that I was sick of fighting everything, what was the point if you never even won?

“That’s life shawn.” She sighs in agreement before chuckling lightly to herself. “God, today was so morbid and it’s only two pm.”

“Why didn’t you fight it? Why didn’t you fight my mum on it? Arleigh you deserve to know what happened.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I needed to say something.

“Shawn I don’t want to fight with your mum, she’s always been so kind to me. Besides I realised something.” She pauses.“ I realised that things between my dad won’t get better if I don’t try and I never try because I cower away. I’m going to force it out of him whether he likes it or not. Shawn we are eighteen years old and had to sneak out the window? It’s time he starts treating me like an adult otherwise by the end of this school year I don’t think there will be a chance for us to fix our relationship.” Although I know she is talking about her relationship with her dad I ant help but think that last part was aimed at me. I have from now till graduation to fix things with me and Arleigh and I have no idea on how to go about it. We can’t go on pretending that things are okay, everything between us is a mess of bruised emotions that we can’t get over and lost memories that we seem to be living in to escape the reality of things.

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poppo911 · 7 years ago

Text

D-Day Jitters (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: To the bride

Word count: 3k-ish

Also on FFN

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

"How's Major—uh, Riza—doing, anyway?"

"I… don't know. I hope she's doing better than me. She always did."

"…you don't know?"

Nobody is in their correct mind on their wedding day—she reminded herself over and over, like a mantra chanted inside those sacred temples of her mind.

Rebecca Catalina had always had the honour to be one of the very few people who had seen the notoriously stoic Riza Hawkeye in her ups and downs. She had been there (much to her amusement) during Riza's extremely rare hangovers. She had always been the one stroking her blonde hair, patting her on the back while she wept silently into her shoulder. Heck, Rebecca even managed to handle her best friend after she came back from the nightmare called Ishval (though she rather kept that particular memory at bay.)

But not this. Never this. And it was driving the brunette crazy.

Which was exactly why she was there, one hand on her hip while fiddling a mascara with the other.

"Rebecca," she said sternly.

Inhale. Exhale. Keep your composure. "No. And you can keep glaring at me like that for the next one hour because, you know what, my answer would always be the same; hell no. Yeah, go fight me."

Riza wanted to pull her hair in frustration, but doing so will utterly destroy her hairdo those stylists had worked on for hours. Covering her face with her hands, and the make up Rebecca nearly finished would be at stake. Thus she opted to curl her fingers into clenches in an agonizingly slow motion.

"You can not strip a sniper of their firearms!"

"Sorry, Major—scratch-that—Miss Hawkeye, but you are stripped of your right to handle any kind of firearms when you resigned from the military five weeks ago."

"But I still retain my gun certification!"

"Then I'm revoking it!" Rebecca retorted, the words I'm-so-done-with-this plastered on her expression, "Well, at least for now. And don't give me your lame but-I-have-to-watch-his-back-from-dangers angsty bullshit. You reviewed the goddamn security algorithm yourself. Just so you know, the budget allocation for today's security system is at least twice bigger than the total amount of money we spent for your grandpop's entire inauguration ceremony. So, no. Gun certification or not, you're not bringing anything beneath your gown."

Her face fell, shoulders slumped in defeat. Rebecca was afraid she was going to cry uncharacteristically, but honestly, better now than after she applied the mascara. Smeared make-up, she can touch it up in a few minutes. But smeared mascara? Catalina was willing to delay the entire procession instead should that happened.

Sighing, she made her way to sit beside the former officer. As silly as it was, if there was anything Riza would seek comfort in everytime her anxiety decided to make an appearance, it would be her guns and whatever came with them. Rebecca couldn't blame her for that—she had seen how her best friend clinged into her sniper rifle as if her entire life depended on it (in a more serious notion, it really did.) She had even considered to let her carry just one to the altar, for everything seemed to much for her friend (and for her, too, frankly speaking) to handle. Dammit, I almost had let her, she internally confessed.

But Rebecca Catalina was experienced in breaking many rules—more than enough for her to know not to break this one.

"C'mon, Ri," Rebecca softly called out to her, poking her arm in a playful manner. "You're just nervous. You can do this, okay?"

"It's just… wrong. I feel as naked as a newborn," she mumbled.

"Oh, you absolutely will, Dear. Tonight after everything's wrapped up. And that flame boy of yours would be more than pleased."

"Rebecca!"

"Yeah, sorry, sorry," chuckling, she snaked an arm around her waist, "I mean, the sexual tension between you two is sometimes too palpable I can't help but to bring it up now that it's not really illegal anymore! Say, are you sure you guys had never fucked before?"

Riza looked at her in dismay.

"Even if I did—which I did not, anyway, not while I was working under his command—" not while I was working under his command, the ambiguous context that came with it didn't go unnoticed, "—I wouldn't narrate them the way you did yours, Beck."

"Hey, what's wrong with that?"

"You don't know," Hawkeye made an audible sigh, "you don't know how hard it was for me to look at Jean in the eyes everytime I talk to him during work hours when you guys first started dating. He thought I was mad at him or something."

"How could—oh… No. No way, you naughty, naughty Rizzie,"

"As if it was my fault. Your description was way too graphic, for your information."

Rebecca bursted into laughter.

"Yeah, yeah. But I succeeded, didn't I?"

"At what?"

"Making a nervous bride forgetting her wedding day nerves, perhaps?"

Her lips curled into a small smile as Rebecca hummed in approval beside her.

But Riza quickly shook her head as the somber mood started crawling back in, "I don't know if this was really for me, Beck. Even if it was… I don't even know if I can pull it off,"

"You? Can not pull it off? Ex-fucking-cuse me, but have you seen this?" Rebecca stood up and moved to stand behind her friend's sitting figure, turning her to face the full length mirror on one side of the wall. "See? If this was not for you, you wouldn't had spent the past months wearing yourself out preparing for this moment…"

She was quite a sight, really. And Rebecca didn't say that merely because she was a supportive best friend who would say anything to relieve her anxiety. A bun wrap decorated with pearl beadings held her silky blonde hair in a messy updo. The brocade hugged her curves perfectly, with intricate floral embroideries around her waist. Downwards were fabrics layered into a ball gown. Big brown eyes, and plump, red-tinted lips—that Mustang guy sure was a lucky bastard, she pondered.

Though she did take pride on her make up work (Rebecca had been the one dolling Riza up in nearly all occasions requiring such attires—like hell she was going to let someone else doing it for her big day,) she admitted, it was the bride herself contributed the biggest to make her looked radiant.

The brunette looked at her perplexed eyes reflected in the mirror, all the way down to her neckline, her ball gown, heels, trains, then back to her face—"Riza Mustang, the First Lady of Amestris, and, despite the strict upbringing I know you will apply, still a no less good mother to her children, and—oh,"

Rebecca decided, then, that she didn't want smeared make up as much as she didn't want smeared mascara.

Careful not to destroy anything—except her make up, sadly, for it was already in a dire need for a touch up—she pulled her friend in a tight embrace. Suddenly it was just like the old times—her face on her shoulder, hand patting her back in silence. I'm sorry. Please. You're okay. I'm sorry.

If she was being honest, Rebecca preferred to deal with Riza throwing tantrums or giving her icy glares that could freeze furnace. She hated being in this position when her seemingly-impassive friend clearly showed her distress, yet told her nothing.

She knew what made her upset, but at the same time, she did not. She understood how she might felt, but she also couldn't relate.

Just like this one.

Riza's place had always been in that one spot casted aside where nobody could notice her. Whether it was on a watch tower with her scope, or two steps behind Mustang's back, she worked best from where she couldn't be seen. Then all of a sudden, she was shoved into the center of attention. She was expected to be there with him in the spotlight, instead of lurking in the shadows he casted.

Too sudden. And certainly too many eyes are watching.

A sane Riza Hawkeye would had handled it just fine, a goddamn rational she was. Maybe with several adjustments at best, Rebecca corrected herself. Yet she knew, the Riza Hawkeye who had spent the past few months preparing for something this big mostly by herself (damn the Fuhrer and his presidential duties) is far from a sane Riza Hawkeye.

Yeah, let alone the one being covered nation-wide with thousands of guests—arranging a wedding itself was already a hassle, if her friends' testimonies were to be trusted. In hindsight, they were.

Rebecca had been occupied by her own job in the office that she only managed to keep tabs on her and offered her suggestions via phonecall frequently—and even that was enough for her to recognize the extent of Riza's distress. Catalina was glad her commanding officer compelled to her… request, when she asked for a two-weeks leave. God knew she was willing to break yet another rule should that snobbish superior officer of hers did otherwise because Lord, I'm not gonna leave this poor girl alone any longer.

She understood.

But she didn't. Both at the same time.

So she just sat there, trying her best to offer her friend some comfort. Riza had rarely been the one to talk her problems through—not with her, at least, she begrudgingly admitted—and Rebecca knew, under this condition, the only thing that could soothe her was a good night sleep in amiable silence. And by the following morning, she would be back to the reasonable, no-nonsense Riza Hawkeye.

The problem? They had to be ready in less than an hour. So a good night sleep was off the options.

Rebecca was cursing her helplessness in silence when the door clicked open.

A rather bulky woman with long, curly black hair appeared from the threshold, making her way to where they were sitting at in a deliberate gait. She was wearing burgundy dress inside a furry coat, she noticed, flashy necklace decorated her neck down to her chest. Rebecca was about to deem her outfit too eccentric—even by her standard—for a formal ceremony (which already spoke volumes, really) if she hadn't been busy being intimidated by said woman's presence. This middle-aged lady was not from the military, that was for sure—but why does she look strangely familiar?

"Am I interrupting something here?"

Riza's shoulders tensed up for a second as she recognized the voice. "No, Madame Christmas," she answered, her hands frantically searching and grabbing for anything she can wipe her tears off with. (Rebecca noticed she considered using her own wedding gown for that. It was a fortune she didn't.)

Hold a sec… that Madame Christmas?!

The woman's voice was raspy when she called out, "Rebecca Catalina, is it? The bridesmaid?"

She nodded.

"Let me handle her," she continued, "you go get that—" pointing at her bare, make-up-stained shoulder, "—thing fixed."

"I—right away, ma'am," taking a good look at the bride's recently messy face, she corrected, "uh, actually, I'm sorry but… it seems that I have to redo this one first,"

If she was any less dignified, the Madame would have snorted.

"And by 'her', I was also referring to that. It's alright. Those girls had to learn to do their nightly make up from someone, after all."

Rebecca paused for a moment, considering what to do next before she stood up from her seat in a swift motion. She gripped Riza's shoulders to give her a semblance of reassurance. Their eyes locked—it was as though hers were saying I will see you later and good luck with this combined.

She left the room after hovering around the door threshold for a little longer than what was necessary.

Madame Christmas collected everything she required to do her face at the other side of the room in silence. It wasn't long before she was already seated in front of her, a whole box of cosmetics in her hands.

If she dared to describe it, Riza thought, she would say it was really… awkward.

Yes, they had met each others from time to time for years already. Be it arranging a coup d'etat or a wedding, the Madame had been a great help. But Roy had always been there—frankly speaking, it was more like Roy and his mother, and then she was there in the background, giving her occasional remarks. This woman had already had her respect for quite a long time. Riza knew her very well.

But apparently, still not well enough for her to become comfortable facing the Madame one-on-one.

"Spill,"

The word came rather unexpectedly—well, not that anything was within expectation, as far as the Madame was concerned. Riza only managed to give her a confused blink in response.

"I didn't work as an information broker for nothing. Now is the chance for you to tell me what troubles you and let it all out, before I decided to point them out one by one."

Madame Christmas continued to do the younger woman's face as she waited for her to speak her mind out.

Wipe this part off. Several strokes of brush here.

Seconds turned into minutes, yet her face remained impassive—funny, really, with those trails of tears on her cheeks—a perfect mask to cover whatever turmoil existed beneath. Christmas quietly sighed; Roy wasn't exaggerating anything when he told her that his (former) adjutant was very, very private, keeping her thoughts and feelings close to her chest.

Chris Mustang finally decided to give in before minutes turned into hours.

"My son is very fond of you, you know,"

She did.

"Whenever he came home for a short break during his alchemy apprenticeship, his stories mostly consisted of my master's daughter this and my master's daughter that… and he did that for years. I knew you like your tea with two spoonful of sugar and no milk years before we actually met."

The words tugged the corners of her lips upwards.

"Even in his academy days, he still liked to recount the letters his master's daughter sent him in his writings. Not once, not twice… quite frequent, in fact. But his master's daughter suddenly vanished into thin air when he was shipped off to war." She paused for a while, scrutinizing her face to the tiniest details, "…I will drop this subject here. Neither of us would like to talk about that now.

"My point is, whether it was his master's daughter, or Elizabeth, or Captain Hawkeye—you two have been together for a long time. As bothersome as it is, this whole marriage ordeal shouldn't bring any difference."

In her mind, Riza was mulling those words over. But for not too long—eventually she found herself lost in her own train of thoughts. Why is she here now? Did Roy send her? Or was it Mrs. Gracia? She wasn't sure of what to say next—

As if she was stung by a wasp, Christmas suddenly drew herself away from her, her eyes narrowed. Much to Hawkeye's bewilderment.

"My Roy-boy can stand there dumbfounded, thinking that his bride had left him at the altar because I am not letting you go if my whole speech just now actually turned into a monologue. I don't really talk much—show me some courtesy for my efforts."

It took every attempts she had to keep her brown eyes fixed on the Madame's.

"I'm sorry, Madame. I didn't want to make your job any harder by talking and moving my face," she finally reasoned.

"Still not a good enough excuse. Try again."

"I—"

Madame Christmas' gaze was unfazed.

Riza swallowed a lump she didn't know had been forming behind her throat. Her eyes frantically searched for anything, anything except the Madame's eyes, to look at, like a chameleon with a den of snakes preying on it nearby. It was when her survival instinct kicked in (was it due to a fight-or-flight response?)—

Don't move. Stare at a fixated point. Breathe deeply three times. Something the military taught to the new recruits to keep their fear under control.

Accordingly, she did as such, and thank God and whatever good up there, it worked.

"I… I'm sorry. This isn't me. People told me it's just the cold-feet but…" she cleared her throat before her sentence turned into nonsensical ramblings, "it's not the wedding per se… but the changes that follow. I don't think I'm ready for it. I can't help but to keep second-guessing myself."

The woman looked at her in an unreadable way. She continued to do her job as she quietly spoke, "Like I said, Riza. Despite everything, nothing much will change. And you knew what you're into when you both made this decision,"

"I know, Madame," the sensible Riza will kick herself later for interrupting the Madame, "we know the consequences. It's just… unnerving, to put it that way. The change. I've been a soldier for years. I've been hiding behind his back, watching it, for as far as I can remember.

"But today onwards, there will be only ceremonial duties shoved onto my plate. Organizing and attending official ceremonies, charitable works, campaigns—he's already used to doing public services, and suddenly people expect me to be there with him. Or to be there on my own. It's overwhelming."

There. She said it.

(Just then, Riza understood how Madame Christmas managed to maintain her business for tens of years.)

She nodded in understanding.

"I see," came her reply, "Amestris is a rather conservative country. It was a wonder your grandfather managed to get through without having one," Chrismas paused and smudged the corner of the eyeshadows using her finger, "looking at Mrs. Bradley, and the one before her several years prior, it can't be helped that the people perceipt their First Lad—"

"Don't say those words," Riza cut in. "…please," she added, as an afterthought.

The elder woman quirked her brow. So that was why, she assumed, but compelled to her wish nonetheless.

"Change is indeed frightening," she voiced after a while, "but we never know what lies ahead. Change is not always bad. The biggest thing that altered my life abruptly happened more than thirty years ago after learning about my brother's, and his wife's, unfortunate demise."

Riza thought she knew where their conversation pointed to. But she also thought it would be wiser not to say anything.

"I took the toddler they left behind under my care. In retrospect, it was nowhere near any propriety—I had been running a small hostess bar by that time. Not an exactly fitting environment to raise a kid, obviously. But we adjusted. It wasn't easy, I remind you, but I accepted the way it changed my life. You know him, and you know how he was—is a pain in the arse to deal with.

"But it was altogether the best decision I ever made—Amestris wouldn't have their incumbent Fuhrer if I did not,"

Using her fingers, Madame Christmas lifted Riza's chin and turned it slightly to the left-and-right, admiring her work for a moment before she went on.

"You look like you still got something to say. Spill it out. We don't have much time left."

Hawkeye prided herself on her ability to hide most of her thoughts, but she swore, this woman in front of her secretly possessed a psychic ability.

"I—" she paused as the Madame smeared more lipstick, "Just something every brides thinks of when they are doubting themselves. I… I don't know if I really can make him happy—"

Christmas pressed the powder puff on her cheek with a little more force than what was necessary.

"Happiness is something you have to work on. Both of you have to actively make the efforts. Don't make my boy's job harder with that negative attitude of yours."

Putting everything back to the box, she dusted her hands clean in a satisfied manner. "There. It's all done."

Riza turned to face the mirror and she admitted, the Madame wasn't lying when she said something about teaching those girls to do their make up.

She was about to open her mouth, thanking the madame, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning back, Madame Christmas was looking straight at her—yet, strangely, it didn't feel as intimidating as she thought it was.

"I've never been good with emotions, but do you feel better?"

More than better, she wanted to voice. As someone who preferred to internalize her problems and feelings a lot, she didn't know how talking them through could actually make her relieved. She felt like a heavy load she wasn't aware was there had been lifted from her shoulders, a figurative stone chained onto her leg, weighing her down, suddenly became nonexistent.

A glowing smile graced her lips as she finally said, "I do, Madame. Thank you very much. I owe you this—along with everything I can't mention one by one."

"Take good care of my son and we're even," she replied in a-matter-of-factly while standing up from her seat, "I think it's time. Your grandfather had been waiting for quite a while."

The retired general came out from behind the then-closed door, walking in with a smile plastered on his old face.

"Not too long ago, Chris. Captain Catalina wouldn't let me in until she was sure you're done already," how insubordinate of her, he murmured.

Christmas shrugged, "just make sure you do this right," she said. A brief seconds passed before the woman decided to make her way out, "I will be on one of the benches,"

Grumman merely shook his head. Same old, same old. "Now this is weird… handing off my granddaughter to a man who's been with her way longer than I even know her." She threw him an apologetic smile.

"Let's go, shall we?" He called out, offering his hand to his only remaining bloodline.

"Yes, Sir." Riza accepted his hand in a proper stance. Just like the rules instructed.

She couldn't see it as they were walking out of the room, down to the hallway, but from his voice—disheartened, with a tinge of disappointment he tried to conceal��Riza knew the elderly man holding her hand was already making a face.

"I told you to call me just Grandpa, Riza. I'm even retired now—no excuse left for you to keep calling me that."

Change is not always bad.

Riza let out a small smile and shook her head,

"One step at a time… Grandfather."

Do you guys know how hard it was to write Madame Christmas? Well, I didn't, until I re-read and re-write this chapter a million of times, yet I still feel I can't do her character justice. Sorry. I'm sorry sobs. Please do tell me where I went wrong DX

"I hope she's doing better than me. She always did." Newsflash Roy-boy, she was not, and that's the irony of this chap lol. I hope Riza wasn't too OOC here, but if she was, uh, may I use that 'nobody is in their correct mind on their wedding day' excuse?

Yes, I still tagged this fic as incomplete, just you wait… *winks* and if I ever posted any third chapter at all, maybe that one will be the last.

Thank you for reading! :D

#royai #fanfiction #royai fanfiction #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #rebecca catalina #madame christmas #fma #fmab

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evangelineartemiasamos · 8 years ago

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Calorn AU Part 3 - Rebels

Note: This is a Red Queen Retelling in an AU. Things are a little more different from canon.

Note II: There's some angsty plot before we get to Calorn again.

Find this on wattpad

Part 1

Part 2

Kilorn POV

Work kept me occupied for weeks before I finally managed to bargain a day off. Or evening, to be exact, as the sun was already setting as I started the trek from Summerton to the Stilts. Walsh had told me she'd spoken to some people, so the news of my current job would find the way to Mare and her family, but I wanted to make sure she knew I was alright. Even more so, I wanted to see her again. We hadn't spoken since I'd left her standing as I walked to Summerton the evening after the mayhem. I felt bad far too long about this, and about Gisa. Mare was my friend, and she deserved better.

Simply said, I missed her. The other servants were nice to chat with and helpful, even Thomas Mayfair who was Prince Maven's personal servant, a young man much more close to his Silver master than to his fellow Reds.

I wondered if Prince Tiberias had hired me to become someone similar to himself, but his approaches, though friendly and more respectful than what most Reds received in the Hall, stayed reserved. Maybe the glares I flashed at him from afar, or my unwillingness to meet his eyes when we were close, were the reason for that. I was glad to avoid him, even when I still wanted to cherish the one night we'd spent as two young men, almost like equals.

The sky was dark, with black clouds promising rain creating an early twilight. Despite the long walk, my pace quickened as I came closer to the Barrow house, only waving to the villagers recognizing me in my stride. I grinned when I saw Mare sitting in front of her home.

"Mare!" I shouted, "it's me, I'm back!" She lifted her head but didn't return my smile. No, as I stopped three paces in front of her, all I saw was a girl who had cried for hours.

I fell to my knees, grabbing her shoulders. "Mare, what is it? I'm safe, I'm here. Took me some time, but..."

" ... You're okay ... " she said huskily.

I nodded. "I've got a job in the palace now, and I couldn't come to visit any sooner-"

"I've heard as much, but I couldn't believe it," she replied, turning her face away as she stifled a sob.

"Mare?"

Suddenly, she hugged me, buried her head in my shirt and breathed raggedly. "I'm glad for you," she whispered. "But Shade..."

My heart sank, and fear settled in my stomach. No.

"They said Shade died, executed for desertion."

I couldn't speak.

I noticed Mare stroking my back, comforting me for her own good as well. We sticked together in our grieve and troubles, as we had done for years. But the loss of Shade was nothing to get over with through some jokes and mock rebellion. The hard fist of the Silvers had dealt a fatal blow, taking away the person Mare and I loved the most.

How could I return to Summerton? How could I continue to work for the haughty and brutal Silvers?

We sat there for a long time before Mare pulled herself away, her eyes red but full of resolve - and vengeance. I swallowed, expecting her to scold me for being a servant though I didn't know what to do about that. I dissembled. "I should go greet your family too." Mare nodded as I rose.

I'm leaving her behind again, I thought, yet I went in. I offered my condolences and mentioned my new job, but neither Gisa, nor her parents nor me felt like talking. I asked abut Gisa's hand yet she only shook her head. She was doing well enough, regarding the death of her brother, she implied wordlessly. But I noticed it in her eyes, the tiny flickers of frustration of seeing her future undone, as well as the relief of meeting at least me alive and well.

It had started to rain when I left the house, yet Mare stood straight and determined while the drops wetted her hair. I heard thunder in the distance and Mare let out a coarse laugh. I frowned, but whatever she'd thought in that moment remained a mystery.

"I've always liked lightning storms," she said, turning to me. "Come with me."

I wanted to ask where she was going but I didn't dare, didn't want to pry to hard. She should be okay, as long as I stay with her, shouldn't she? A new, dangerous sense of purpose had taken hold of Mare and in a way, I was proud of her anger. A part of me longed for revenge too, revenge for the friend and brother we'd lost, for everytime we'd suffered because of Silvers. How only serving Silvers saved me from becoming one of their human shields.

We walked right into the forest, despite the lightning brightening the dark sky and the thunder growling above us. I wanted to warn her, but suddenly, Mare stopped and spun to me. "Look", she said and I saw something that I could not believe.

As the storm thundered above us, tiny violet and silver flashes of lightning sprang from Mare's hands.

"Mare, what the bleeding hells is that?"

She grinned bitterly, throwing the sizzling bolts into the trees around us.

"Mare! Please be careful!" Fortunately, she didn't set the woods ablaze, yet she ... created even more electricity between her fists.

This is not an illusion.

"Seems like the SIlvers aren't the only ones who can control the elements," she sneered. "I've found my mean of justice."

As much as the menace radiating from Mare scared me, I felt oddly impressed. Mare had always been better than people thought she was. Even as she herself did.

"What's the plan?" I asked playfully, trying to soften the dire mood, as I was used to do.

"You think I'll run headfirst into the Hall of the Sun, screaming bloody murder?" she retorted.

"No, but - "

"Good thing I already know some rebels." My eyes widerned. "I guess Farley's Scarlet Guard will be thrilled about a girl like me. You know, Shade has been a member too, and so will I. Now, Kilorn. Are you with me?"

I shared her ideas, and I thought about my position at court. I remembered I just got away from fighting in the endless war. But I already knew what I wanted, needed to do. "I'm with you, Mare."

That Farley wasn't waiting for us, as Mare had assumed, but Tristan, another member of this Scarlet Guard was. It didn't make a difference - Mare joined them and I followed. I felt proud of myself to finally stand up against the Silvers. That feeling lasted only for a moment, until Tristan reminded us of our coming tasks, duty, commitment and, most of all, secrecy. He was glad about recruiting me, a servant at court, but not as much as I'd expected. I almost suspected they already had people there yet he didn't tell. Neither was I allowed to know about Mare's role in all this. Tristan's surprise about her ... ability seemed forced, an act, as if he'd known about such people, and I played along. I didn't question him and his group. Despite them popping up in the back of my head, I couldn't bring myself to talk the longer our introduction lasted. Sorrow and pain pierced my heart, because whatever I did, Shade was still dead.

I guess Mare felt the same way though it was revenge that held her up, as relentless as her lightning.

It took hours to walk back to the palace. Mare had offered me to stay at her place - if I wanted to - but I had to be at the palace for my next shift starting at 6:30 am in the morning. I wouldn't get much sleep until then, yet I didn't hurry, despite the rain falling down on me. I was wet to my bones, but I was a fisherman used to clamminess and I didn't give a damn. The cold froze the pain as well, so I didn't need to think about Shade while the sky and the storm were drowning me.

Lights flickered behind me, and I heard the roar of an engine, a sound that become more familiar the more time I spent in the Hall of the Sun. I jumped to the side as the machine, a two-wheeled, strange transport, reached me, but it stopped beside me instead of passing me.

"Warren?" The driver asked me and I had to realize that he was no other than the fire prince Tiberias, just as drenched as me but steaming. I cackled coarsely. Great, just what I need right now.

"Hey, Warren," he asked again. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment, I felt caught. Here I stood, just having pledged myself to the rebellion as the crown prince himself found me. But no, he couldn't have made such a connection just by meeting me, and he gave me the same lost puppy look as ever. As if I could do no wrong, as if he truly worried about me, and he was fucking right.

Only that I would have none of his pity. I wanted to scream at him, blame him, shove him of his bleeding engine. Shade had died because of people like him, Silvers who treated us like dispensable chattel. And the prince was a general too, it was his "job" to send soldiers into death.

But I couldn't say any of that or he would strip me of the job he gave me, or have me conscripted after all. Honesty wasn't an option. Rage wasn't an option.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted instead, fighting my anger against the roar of the storm, still knowing I should add "good night Your Highness," but I couldn't bring myself to do that.

"I won't!" was his answer and he didn't even blink. I did.

"You're freezing in this rain, and it's miles to the Hall, and, ... and ... " eventually, he started to stutter but his eyes didn't leave me. "Let me take you home," he offered and gestured to his machine.

"That's not my home."

"Yes. Yes, of course not." He looked down. "I can't assume what you feel, and probably, I never will. But I want to help you. I won't let you down."

Did he wanted to say that to me the whole time?

"Do you say that to your soldiers too?" I asked back.

Despite the raindrops fogging my view, the shock on his face became crystal clear. There it was, I had hurt him. Did I feel better now?

"You're right," he whispered after several long seconds. "I do tell my soldiers the same thing. Maybe I should not."

"Shade is dead." The words finally left my mouth because they were all that mattered. The fact of his death, not the manner.

Cal didn't hesitate to embrace me and in the end, I let him drive me back.

Neither Cal nor me let ourselves be bothered by those seeing us walking to the prince's chambers, dripping onto the plushy carpets. Thus I came to sit on his couch as he went to fetch some towels. I wondered why he didn't ask for another servant - or let me do it. Apparently, the crown prince of Norta was able to do some things by himself. As I was alone, the doubts returned. I shouldn't have come here with him. I was thankful, but I could not trust him and it was time for me to leave the royal apartment, to get back to my own dwelling. But I was unable to move. I was freezing and shivering and I realized it weren't only raindrops but tears as well that fell from my head.

No. No. No. No.

Just breath in and out, and -

A towel fell on my hair and warm hands touched my cheeks. I didn't need to look up. And I didn't stop crying while Cal rubbed my hair dry.

"Do you feel warmer now?" he whispered. "Do you want some of my clothes?"

His care almost made me smile. I was close to say no, or give another snarky reply, but my power to rage was long gone. What was the point of rejecting his help?

"I'd like a shower as well," I murmered.

The prince's hot hand stroked my shoulder encouragingly. "The bathroom is over there."

For another time, I spent a night talking with Cal, only this time, I was the one with the secrets. That didn't stop me from feeling drawn to him, as I had been this whole time. I wanted to trust him, to tell him about me and to be close to him and he, apparently, desired the same thing. With his identity revealed, he used the chance to be honest with me.

"I'd always known what I had to do, everyone reminded me, most of all the queen. I'll have to marry the victress of Queenstrial, they say. It's the tradition, to honour the dignified alliance of the Nortan crown with the High Houses.

" 'Remember what happened to your mother, Prince Tiberias. She was too frail, but the bride chosen by Queentrial will be the strongest, like she was made for the throne.' Pah." He cackled. "It's so easy to believe in traditions, even for me at times. Don't object, don't rebel, and you will be happy. Even Father says so, as if he ever forgot Mother. It's all pretend, and I know it. I'm not sure if I'll ever fall for a girl, so how does it matter if I marry the one the court has deemed the best choice?"

"But - " I interrupted him.

"Excuse me?" Cal asked, completely unaware about what I thought about his prattling. That no one had to be forced to marry, that he didn't need to make another person live in a loveless marriage. Cal had a brother, there was no need for him to do it - to marry and produce heirs, no matter what.

But those ideas were way to liberal, and logical. "And what does the Lady Evangeline think?" I asked instead.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "She thinks," Cal dragged on the words, "exactly the same as me."

I blinked.

"She doesn't like men either. She has a girlfriend."

I fought the urge to grin.

"Indeed, my dearest betrothed is only in for the power and the fame and family duty," Cal continued. " And perhaps, in ten years from now, after we'd done our task of breeding little royal torches, both of us will present our beloved same-sex consorts."

"Cal -"

"No, Kilorn, just imagine. Eve and me have been made for each other. We understand each other and maybe we'll be the most harmonic couple that has ever ruled Norta. To fire and steel!"

His cynical self-pity was too much for me to bear on top of everything this night.

"You Silvers are stupid," I said, walked close to him sitting on the floor and batted his chest.

"Is that so?" he grinned joylessly.

"Yeah. You have everything, every comfort, supply and luxury but you choose to chain yourselves by silly traditions, rules and bloodlines"

He frowned. "They aren't silly, they exist to maintain -"

"The dominnace over the Reds?" I finished for him and he gaped. It wasn't what he wanted to say. Good. Someone needed ot remind him.

"I assume that is part of it," he admitted. "But -"

"Are you telling me it's a good thing to treat Reds like animals?"

"You have quite a lip, Kilorn Warren," he retorted.

"You can think about that, Your Highness, or throw me out. But don't shut me up. Your choice."

Cal hesitated. I saw his mind working, fighting his wishes. Finally, he took my hand. "I'd be glad to have your insight, Kilorn."

Insight. What a big word for the opinions of an illiterate Red boy like me. I sighed. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please continue to call me Cal," he said and kissed my knuckles. I tore away after a few seconds and stood up.

"Good night, Cal. Until next time." I bowed mockingly.

"Good night to you too, and take care. Do you need the day off?"

"Not necessary, Cal. I'm used to hard work"

I lef this rooms behind, as I had left the memory of Shade in the last hour. Being with Cal was like playing with fire, but it was the only thing I could offer to the Scarlet Guard.

Commentary:

It's weird to angst about Shade when you know he's still alive and probably rolling in the sheets with Farley In The Meantime, yet you also realize how real the pain becomes later on Q_Q

I guess my "fuck traditions!" attitude is showing here. I didn't want Kilorn to go history nerd here, but if you think about the Calore queens (if they existed though), you realize they had to assume they wouldn't have Calore heirs of their bodies and thus they had to rely on they male relatives to continue the line, so Cal relying on Maven isn't too far-fetched an idea. Convenience marriages aren't the only option.

@dewydrael @redqueenfandom @lilyharvord @maudthebookeater @didmavenkillyou--metoo @lunardemigod @marelicious @liz-cavallaro @iwishmydearlaurens @agarotado27dejunho @stiinaofficial @incantationalice @universegamer @ibeswaraa @sybillsilver @marecaltrash @mikey-waysjawline @marecal-trash @cmarthad1

#calorn au #red queen au #cal x kilorn #red queen fan fiction #kilorn warren #tiberias vii #cal calore #red queen fanfiction #calorn #crackship #m/m ship #gay ship #victoria aveyard #my fan fiction

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shooter-nobunagun · 8 years ago

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Look At Me (R-18)

//Angsty one-shot that happens when I stay up way too late and my brain takes one thread of inspiration and spins it into a whole story before I know it. Like literally, this story feels like it wrote itself at times. I wanted to finish it in one go, for best “consistency” but my brain started futzing around 2:30am and so I was forced to go to bed. Exploring more of Adam’s feelings, and his guilt, of hurting her in order to save her, and Sio’s reservations at that guilt. Takes place shortly after Sio’s promotion. Starts angsty but it has a happy ending... :>;;;

Warnings: It’s R-18, but it won’t be quite as explicit as my usual smut. In fact, I’d hesitate to call this smut...more like, mature content?

He doesn’t look at her anymore.

Well, that isn’t entirely accurate--they encounter each other in the hallways, during the battles, and when she’s giving orders and commands to which he always responds with a nod and ‘of course.’ What she means is that he no longer looks at her that way. The way when his emeralds smolder and darken, even though he never says a word she knows that he is secretly undressing her with his eyes, and the second they get a reprieve they will retreat to one of their rooms to fulfill that hunger, that desire they have for each other. Sometimes it’s easy to tell, other times it still takes her by surprise, the passion that they have for each other.

He no longer looks at her like that.

At first she doesn’t think too much on it; so many things have happened--Asao’s death, her return, and the dreadful advancement of their alien foes. Of course there isn’t time to focus on their personal lives--not when the fate of the planet comes first.

But then she convinces him to share her room, if only so she won’t be all alone at night, suffering her own fears by herself; he agrees immediately of course, that is hardly a surprise. In the beginning it is nervous and exciting and overwhelming all at once; they no longer have to keep sneaking around, finding excuses to go somewhere. They have their own retreat now, a place only for each other, and she relishes the ability to be held in his arms, night after night.

Of course they make love--as often as every single night, at least in the beginning they did. Soft, hard, fast and slow...it feels like no matter what position or mood they try, it always ends up feeling amazing. But lately it hasn’t been like that, or at least not like that.

He still waits up for her every night, that is for certain. She’s amazed at how steadfast he’s been, making sure to never fall asleep before she returns from her exhausting schedule, sometimes lasting well until nearly dawn. But then again he’s always been stubborn, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The surprise is that he doesn’t seem to be as enthusiastic anymore; most of the time she initiates it now, and though he unfailingly obliges, his eyes are different now; the emeralds are duller, no longer rich and sparkling. She can’t remember the last time he actually looked at her straight in the eye. Most nights he seems only focused on satisfying her as soon as possible, nevermind if he is or not--‘I’m fine, just tired’--is a common excuse these days. It’s not that she isn’t satisfied--for he is a kind lover and knows precisely how her body works--but somehow, even the strongest orgasm still leaves her feeling hollower and emptier than when she first settles into bed.

She knows something is wrong; yet neither of them have the courage to say it. Their relationship having already narrowly survived a literal death sentence, her own excuse is to ‘wait until things have settled down’, but it’s a flimsy excuse and deep down she knows it. The war is only getting more serious and involved from here on out; their chances of having a quiet moment to digest and reflect on their own feelings will simply have to wait. For now, she manages to convince herself that at least they are together and mostly safe, and even if things between them have been getting more and more strained lately, well, it’s better than having nothing at all. Her mind blames it on the increasing levels of stress they are experiencing, her as the new strategist and he getting sent off to every corner of the world, fighting against monsters that never seem to stop spawning; on the death of her best friend, and countless others that they were unable to save.

Her heart knows these are just convenient lies, though.

One day she happens upon the rare occasion of Newton having tea by herself, and the older woman naturally invites her to join. One word, then two spill out, and before the scones are even finished she’s choking out her fears, her insecurities of this relationship possibly not lasting before the war ends. “I don’t understand--but, I feel like he’s so...distant lately. What if, what if he...no longer loves me?” She cries and cries for what seems like an eternity, the blonde very sympathetically lending both ear and shoulder as the sniper sobs, until at last no more tears are to be had.

“Oh Sio...there there. I know it feels like the end of the world, but I don’t think so. It’s natural for relationships to hit a plateau after a while. Especially given the circumstances...normally I’d say this is a sign for you two to take a nice getaway to some tropical country, but we both know that’s not exactly an option...” The blonde winces at her own answer, but they both know it’s the truth. “Think of it this way; the beginning of anything is always the most exciting--it’s new, it’s fresh, there’s so much to explore and learn. And after a while, things become...well, more settled. You get used to it, you fall into routine; surprises become fewer--though trust me when I say this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Think of it as, um...well, like, wearing a comfortable shirt and fireworks.” The statement is met with a stare of pure skepticism, but Newton pretends she doesn’t see it and continues plowing through.

“In the beginning, it feels like there’s fireworks all the time; as time passes, you start trading the fireworks for a comfortable shirt. Perhaps it’s not as flashy nor exciting, but it’s familiar and comforting. And you still get the occasional firework, here and there, which makes those moments even more special.”

The sniper doesn’t really understand any of these analogies, but she appreciates the blonde’s efforts. Her teammate doesn’t stop there, however; instead she whips out the digital calendar, and lets out a squeal of joy when they discover that the upcoming weekend is miraculously free of tedious meetings and scheduled skirmishes, and sends a request for a quick shore-leave (fast tracked for approval to the commander), some girl time for just the two of them before she knows it.

“I know this isn’t exactly a romantic tropical vacation, but I think a bit of change will do you good, Sio-chan.”

And this is how she ends up being pulled along the streets of Toronto, the closest city the A. Logan happens to be flying over. She’s never been to Canada, but they speak English here (and for some reason, French) so Newton navigates them flawlessly through the busy downtown. For the most part, people don’t really seem to recognize them--though they do get a few curious stares, and one person even runs up to them and asks for a selfie--which she firmly but politely declines.

“Anything you want in particular? Anything to eat, some new clothes--oh, I’ve just the idea--” And the next thing she knows, they’re stepping into what appears to be a high-end lingerie boutique. Under normal circumstances, she would be blushing and protesting and demanding that they leave right away, but what the hell--it’s just Newton, and frankly, at this point she can hardly think about what kind of underwear he’d might like to see her in.

She can tell everything is very high quality though, even without the price tag. Newton assures her that the sky’s pretty much the limit when it comes to cost, and urges her to try out a couple of items she thinks will bring out her lithe figure. “You complained that Adam hasn’t been as responsive in bed lately, maybe you two just need some new things to spice it up a little~” At least the blonde doesn’t insist on going into the changing room with her, although it is a bit irritating to hear her ask every five minutes if assistance is needed.

“Oh, don’t be so shy Sio, let me take a look! Trust me, I was a model--I know my way around a fancy pair of knickers,” and before she can even launch another protest, the curtain opens and the blonde invites herself in after all. “Ooh la la, this one’s a real winner--the sheer lace, barely-there-coverage, the tie-only knickers--there’s no way Adam’s going to be able to take his eyes off of you when he sees you in these.”

“B-Beckham-san...” She hugs herself slightly and blushes, not used to wearing such...purposefully erotic underwear. “W-Well, if you say so...”

“If he doesn’t go for it, I’ll stomp him on the head myself,” Newton deadpans, before turning the girl this way and that. “Yes, it fits nicely as well...you know Sio-chan, I actually envy your petite figure. It’s so adorable.” Her face must have shown a great deal of surprise, for Newton only smiles wryly at her reaction. “Ah ha, you must be one of those girls who think that only big busts matter? Tsk tsk tsk, think again. While I do like my curves, they are a terrible bother at times...there’s so many cute outfits I can’t wear, and if it weren’t for DOGOO’s training regimen, I’m sure I’d be having back problems by now...” As the sniper starts undoing the delicate lace straps, she hears a small gasp from the other woman.

“Beckham-san? Is something...wrong?”

“A-Ah? Sio-chan...ah, nothing...just...” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the blonde is clearly troubled by something, and luckily she’s smart enough to know that the sniper won’t take excuses for an answer. “It’s just...I’d have thought that scar would’ve healed by now. I guess it’ll take a little longer, huh?”

She looks down at her left breast. A jagged line of scar tissue, some of it still pink and tender, cutting straight across her breastbone and then roughly juts underneath the slight curve, matching up with an equally uneven line of flesh across the corresponding shoulder blade on her back. “Oh...yeah. The doctor said honestly, it might never go away. I mean, they offered me the option to get it fixed cosmetically, but...” she puts on her regular clothes again and shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. I mean, it’s...not like it hurts or anything.”

“...I’m sorry.” Newton looks somber all of a sudden, even as they finish paying and walk out of the store. “I didn’t mean to bring that up again.”

“It’s fine; I...don’t really think about it anymore.”

But that’s a lie and you know it.

Their little day trip seems to have ended all too soon, and to her surprise she is just a tad disappointed as the appointed chopper comes to pick them up, right on schedule. She returns with a bunch of small gifts for the rest of the platoons--some small snacks like ketchup-flavored crisps, cheese curds, and of course a bottle of organic maple syrup. The excitement and cheerful chatter from the other holders asking about her trip cheers her up slightly, and it is because she is so engaged with retelling her first taste of poutine to Gaudî that she nearly misses him coming in.

“So...sounds like you had fun today, squirt.” He looks about the same as always, cool and detached, especially when the others are around--but this time she is more observant, watching just exactly where his eyes are looking, what he’s doing. “Thanks for taking her out, Newton. I owe you one...”

“Aw, Jack! It was a shame you couldn’t join us, but sometimes, we girls just need to have a little ‘girl time’, you know?”

“Ah, Adam! I, here...I, got this for you...” She grabs the potato crisps and hands them to him. “I...think you’ll like them.”

He raises a white eyebrow, a small grin as he reads the label. “Ketchup flavor? Must be one of those weird Canadian things...thanks, Sio.”

He’s about to leave, to retreat back into whatever little corner that he undoubtedly holed up in while she was gone, when she grabs his arm and he blinks at her in confusion. “...Sio?”

“A-Ah, uhm, t, tonight...y-you, don’t have any plans...right?” For once her heart is pounding nervously, palms sweaty--as if this was right when they first kissed.

He stares at her curiously for a few seconds, head tilted with lips pursed, before he answers at last. “...No, not particularly...? Oh, well there’s just a small thing with Capa--but it shouldn’t take long.”

“Th, then, come back as soon as you can...” And then she takes his hand, which surprises them both, especially since it’s in plain view of everybody else in the room. “Actually, I...know this is selfish of me, but...try to leave early? Please?” Given her rank and the severity of the situation, she rarely tries to wheedle him with childish pleas anymore, but for some reason she feels that now is a time to use it.

“...Heh, tryin’ t’ make me play hooky ‘ey?” A rare, true smile flashes across his emeralds and her heart skips several beats, a feeling she hasn’t experienced for a long time now. “Well all right, must be...important, if yer usin’ those eyes...” She blushes as he slowly runs his fingers over her palm, as if trying to memorize each digit and knuckle. “I’ll see what I can do. It’s been a while since I’ve had to utilize Jack’s cunning for this type of stuff...I’ll be back by 21:00. Latest, I swear.”

Then he gives her just a slight kiss on the forehead, innocent and light, and he’s off to do whatever it is Capa wants. She remains standing there, cheeks a faint pink as everybody else disperses, though Newton and Gandhi remain behind, murmuring to each other about no doubt their leader and his sniper.

“So Sio-chan, sounds like you’ve got something special planned for tonight?” The Indian teases her just a touch, but she knows it’s all in good humor. “Newton gave me the basics; and all I have to add to that is...” he gestures her closer, until he’s whispering right into her ear, “go for it, and show that stubborn idiot just what it is he’s missing out on.” He winks playfully as her cheeks burn, before he too, bids them a farewell for now.

“Ah, before you go Sio, I just wanted to tell you: regardless of what you may think Adam feels, just remember that men are morons when it comes to emotions and subtleties. If he’s not getting the hint, then just bloody tell it to him straight, or better yet, show him. Men understand actions more than words. And if that still doesn’t work, then come find me and Gandhi and we’ll beat some sense into him.” Newton gives her an encouraging thumbs up, though she sincerely hopes that it won’t have to come down to physical violence.

Before she knows it, the clock is reading 20:30 and she’s standing in front of the only full-length mirror in the cabin, feeling a bit odd at preening herself and taking a more critical eye to her appearance for a change. The lacy bralette barely cups her breasts, though it’s not like they’re particularly large to begin with--only a single line of silk ribbon covers her nipples, and only if it’s placed correctly. The panties sit just below her hipbones, the ties hanging off in her best rendition of a bow, the sheerness of the lace fabric not doing much to hide anything--she cringes a little as she realizes her pubic hair is peeking through the sides a bit, and regrets a little at not having taken Newton’s offer to go to a salon and getting it trimmed, at least. Her hair has gotten white and long again--a dye job would be necessary soon, and probably another trim, but there hadn’t been time for that today and besides, it contrasts surprisingly well with the all-black lingerie. She nervously glances at the clock, which now reads 20:41--Adam had said he’d be back by 21:00 at the very latest, which means he must be on his way, soon.

It’s been a while since she’s felt like this, all excited and a bit nervous, even. Lately, sex has become more of a routine rather than something special--almost like a sleep aid, since it makes them more tired and generally speaking she tends to have less nightmares on those nights. Tonight though, she wants tonight to be special; to take their time, instead of simply going through the motions in the most efficient manner possible. Her palms are sweating and she realizes her heart is racing at the anticipation, and when she unconsciously crosses her thighs, she feels a bit of moisture between her legs, her body already preparing itself for the inevitable.

Just before the clock is about to hit 20:59 the door slides open and a cool gust of air comes in, followed by his groan of relief at having come back at last. “Heh, made it back like I said I would--swear to god it took all of Jack’s instincts to weasel my way out of Capa’s orders, I think he needs another assistant or something.” She hears him taking off his shoes, then jacket, loosening the tie after a long day. “So, what’s so important that you had me take off early--” his voice stops as she comes into view at last, standing nervously before him in her new lingerie, cheeks pinking a little at his scrutinizing view. His eyes are indiscernible, but he is definitely staring a lot longer than he usually does, emeralds widening a bit, and she swears there is a glint that she hasn’t seen in a long time.

“You, uh, y-you...wow Sio, that’s...” He laughs nervously a little, his face blushing a bit as he comes to the realization of just why she wanted him to leave early, before letting out a low whistle. “Christ Sio, that’s...wow.”

“D, Do you...like it?”

“Oh, yeh--you look, good--no, stunning,” and though is voice is nervous and she can hear that tinge of boyish lust, still something is not quite right; the odd, nervous energy that is not from the anticipation, but from something else. “It’s...very lovely. And you’re beautiful, love.”

His words are sincere, she knows it; but his continued lack of eye contact is starting to irritate her. Something is wrong; and no matter how messy or uncomfortable this will be, she’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

“If that’s true...then how come you won’t look at me?” His face is a stunned mixture of surprise and hurt, but she can’t stop now. “I don’t mean that in the usual sense; of course you’re looking, but you’re not really looking; you’re not seeing what’s in front of you. You haven’t for a while now.” Her voice is trembling a bit, but she doesn’t let it stop her. Even as she slowly backs him against the wall, his eyes nervous and guilty with shame, her maroons are even and just a bit hardened.

“Adam, what’s wrong? What’s bothering you?” He just shakes his head slowly, mouth open but no sounds come out. “Don’t lie, Adam; we both know something’s wrong; what is it? Are you dissatisfied with me? Are you...are you ashamed of me?”

That last line is what shakes him from his fear, and in an instant she’s the one who’s up against the wall, looking at last into tortured emeralds that are dark with shame and lust. “No; it...it isn’t that. It isn’t that at all.” She doesn’t say anything, only gently stroking his cheek, to encourage him to continue speaking. “...You are right; something is wrong, Sio. And I’ve been a coward because of it...” He answers softly at last, his hand slowly fingers the single-ribbon strap, right where it covers her left breast and as soon as it reaches the end he stops, as if touching fire, and suddenly she thinks she knows why.

“...It’s not your fault, Adam. It never was.”

“No, no you don’t understand--” She grabs his wrist before he can make his retreat, and firmly places it on her left breast, where that scar is now. “Sio, please, it’s not--” His eyes plead with her, but she refuses to let go. “It’s, it’s not...that--”

“Why are you so ashamed of this? You know I don’t blame you; I never have...! If anything, you saved me--so why are you so--”

“--because I hurt you, that’s why--even though I promised to myself, the number one thing I’d never do is to hurt you, I did--I was supposed to protect you, not hurt--” And the man who’s always been her pillar of strength, of warm support crumbles before her very eyes, brows deepened with furrows as he goes off into a stream of all the wrongs he’s wrought and should’ves could’ves would’ves.

“Adam Muirhead. Stop this nonsense, and look at me,” the commanding tone she uses as Nobunagun surprises her, but it works; he stops babbling, if only just long enough for her to grasp his chin and pull his head up. “Listen to me for once, you idiot. That day, when I told you to take responsibility for your actions, to fix what you did wrong, instead of moping about...I meant every word of it. You know I don’t blame you for what happened; nobody did, or does, regardless of how they might have responded. Even if you left this scar...to me, it’s proof of our trust...that I trusted you with my life, to do the right thing, even if it’s painful...because I love you, you stupid moron.” A tear streaks down her cheek, but she refuses to wipe it away. “When you avoid me, or look away each time...it hurts. It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong...that I’m not good enough for you...”

She has to stop talking for a bit, because a sob hiccups up and she just can’t stop it. Crying was not in the plan at all, but saying these thoughts hurts more than she thought it would. “I-I...I don’t care about some stupid scar, o-o-or wha, what other people might think...I just want to be with you! I’ve already lost Asao-san...please, don’t leave me too, Adam...”

His body trembles, and it takes her a second to realize that he’s crying too, though he’s much more restrained. Still, he can’t stop his tears anymore than she can hers, and in that moment he can say nothing, only burying her in his arms as they both sob.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...! I didn’t mean to make you feel this way...it’s just, each time I see it...all I can think about, is that day,” he pants out, fists clenched in her hair as he holds her tighter, “that...look you had, then...it haunts me, you know. Always, whenever I dream about that moment...the outcome is not what it was.” He takes a breath, and exhales slowly against her strands.

“In my dreams--no, they’re nightmares for sure--I...I never get it right. I never restrain myself, or cut the correct place, or, or something... There’s no Nightingale guiding me or telling me what to do. In the end, I always end up with blood on my hands...and I wake up knowing I’ve failed.”

So. It’s not so much a matter of trust between the two of them--but rather, his lack of trust in his own self. She pats his head gently, placing soft kisses against his cheek, though they don’t seem to help much.

“That’s why...I’m always scared, now. You don’t understand just how close I came to actually killing you; one wrong move, just one millimeter off, and you would’ve died instantly. Even though I know it was the only way to save you...that kind of responsibility in your hands...not just anyone, but the one I love...”

“...Even now?” She whispers, stroking his face as one would a child.

“...Yes. Always. My greatest fear is losing you,” he whispers back, finally looking at her again with wet eyes. “I know I’ve been a coward in avoiding it; no amount of apologies or admissions will change that.”

She draws a deep breath, before pushing him back gently so she can look at him squarely. “No, we can’t change what’s in the past. But like I said, that day when I entered your soul; you can change the now, start by taking responsibility for your actions.” As if to emphasize her point, she takes his hand, and uses it to gently cup and squeeze her own breast. “It doesn’t hurt, you know. Not anymore; I’m just fine, now.”

“...You are right, Sio. Heh, in the end, you’ll always have me beat, when it comes to words,” he gives a small, resigned half-smile, though his expression is still somber. “Truly though, I’m sorry; I didn’t realise you were so hurt...I’m sorry for being selfish. But on that note, I’m glad I made the right choice; that I chose you, because you’re the only one who could possibly have pushed me to grow, to be better about myself, and become a better person.” His hands are moving on their own now, actually tracing the scar, instead of avoiding them like he was. “I want to become a better man for you, Sio.”

Her heart squeezes warmly, and there’s a few more drops in her eyes again, though this time it’s from joy. Though it’s not perfect, and she knows that such emotional wounds will take more than just a single conversation to heal, at least he’s more open about it now. It feels as if the’s let out a huge breath that’s been held inside all this time, and even if it makes things a little awkward between them--at least she knows why, now.

“Then let’s start now, Adam. If you’re really sorry, and you want to do me right...then prove it to me.”

There’s a moment of awkward nervousness, neither of them sure who should make the first move or what to even do after all this. Usually, the routine is natural and low-key; once they’re both in bed, she’ll start touching or kissing him, and it doesn’t take long for him to get the idea. But this situation is far from the norm--nevermind finally addressing the elephant in the room, but her wearing lingerie that’s designed only for one purpose--seduction--it’s actually very new.

He’s just standing there, hands nervously fumbling around his belt and glancing at her nervously but not actually moving, and she remembers Newton’s words--“men understand actions better than words”--and pulls him into a heated kiss, taking his hand and firmly placing it around her slim waist and he responds instantly, perhaps a little too eager which results in some clumsiness as they nearly trip while heading towards the bed, but it’s the kind of eagerness that hearkens back to the beginning of their relationship.

“I do love you, Sio; truly and honestly. And if it takes me the rest of my life to prove it to you, then so be it.” He’s looking at her straight in the eyes now, a fierce, determined sort of look in his emeralds and her heart swells with emotions, but before she can even say anything he’s untying the delicate ribbon of her panties, takes a single breath to inhale her musk and then he dives straight into her moist core. Her hips buck instantly at the sensation and she whimpers slightly, having already been wet at just waiting for him to arrive.

“A-Aahhnnnn...nnnng...A-Adam...” She sighs and lets out the occasional cry, but mostly she’s focused on his touch; fingers that gently slide up her hips, then waist, and this time he doesn’t hesitate anymore, stopping briefly to help her out of the bra. It’s a shame that she has to take them off so soon after putting them on, but she doesn’t want to risk damaging the delicate material.

“You’re beautiful Sio,” he pants breathlessly, the moonlight making her skin glow with an un-earthly hue as he takes a second to admire her sleek body, her hair snow-white like his again but it makes her look like an otherworldly being. He groans as she palms his erection and struggles to undo his clothes, before finally kicking them off the bed.

Her breathing gets heavier as she gets closer, his tongue now working together with his finger inside her, her legs spread wide over his shoulders as she is propped slightly on a mountain of pillows, gently threading his hair while whispering her approval. It’s different now, even though is actions are basically the same, she can feel the difference--his intentions, his feelings, and in turn that makes it more pleasurable than it has been in a long while. So it’s a bit of a surprise when she suddenly comes, her back not even fully arched before that lighting bolt of heat hits and she is quivering, trembling with small shakes and then it’s over and he’s blinking at her with slight surprise, a bit of fluid still dripping from his lips.

“Oh...did you come already?”

“I...think so? I guess I’m just more sensitive today...” She gives him a weak smile, maroons hazy and hooded from the afterglow.

“But I take it you’re not satisfied yet, are you?” There is a grin on his face, slightly mischievous but loving, and she can’t help but smile back because it’s been so long since he’s given her that look, the old Adam coming back a little bit.

“Noo...but I know a few ways we can fix that,” she smiles suggestively, beckoning him with a single finger and he mirrors that smile back, before climbing on top and they lose themselves in each other for the rest of the evening. ---- Sometime later, she is not sure exactly when--it must be at least midnight by the time they settle down--when they are both considerably calmer and he’s spooning her and they’re just lying there amongst the sheets, she remembers Newton’s words of trading fireworks for a comfortable shirt, and she chuckles quietly to herself, of how it turns out to be quite true.

“Hmm? What’s up, squirt?” He stirs a bit behind her, hands now gently cupping her breasts and she relishes the warmth.

“Ah, nothing...just, thinking about today. With Newton.”

“Oh. Speaking of which, somehow I have a feeling this whole thing was partly her idea...” he responds dryly, nodding towards the lingerie. “No offense, but unless I specifically said so, there’s no way you’d willingly walk into a lingerie shop and drop a couple hundred quid just for a set of nice underwear.”

She giggles, because it’s true that usually she could care less about what she’s wearing, nevermind what’s underneath it all. “Yeah...you got me there. What can I say, it helps to talk to others...plus, I actually liked that set a lot. More than I thought.” She turns around in his arms, until they’re facing each other. “Did you...like it?”

“Of course! I wasn’t lying about that part,” he pouts slightly, until she kisses him on the nose. “I am a guy, I do like seeing you look beautiful...and sexy...it was almost too sexy...” He frowns suddenly, turning the situation over in his head. “Wait, if Newton went with you, then does that mean she...?”

“Ah, ha hah...ah, yeah, well, I mean I had to show somebody, right? I can’t trust myself with fashion, let alone underwear,” she smiles sheepishly, Adam still frowning slightly. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re jealous? It’s like she said, sometimes girls just wanna have fun.”

“Yeh, I know I know, but still...” he grumbles a bit, pulling her tighter until she’s practically buried in his arms. “What can I say, I’m the possessive type who gets jealous easily; if we’re going to be honest and all that.” He leans down and kisses her deeply on the lips. “I don’t exactly like sharing; I’m greedy and selfish, and I want you all to myself.”

“You’re also kind of insecure,” she comments wryly, though when his face sinks a bit she feels a little bad. “Oh come on, it’s not a big deal; tons of people are insecure, me included. You think it’s easy for me to get up in front of all those old dudes and boss them around?” She sinks a little more into his arms, until her head is resting against the crook of his neck. “But that’s why we have each other; to keep going forward, even when it’s painful...”

“...Yeh, I know. It’s not going to be perfect, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep, but...I can promise that I won’t stop trying.” He nuzzles her and she laughs because his hair is ticklish, especially along the new skin growth near her scar. “If I’m ever being a moody asshole again, just call me out on it. I’ll know you mean well.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can afford buy sexy underwear each time I want you to spill your guts...” there’s a squeal of laughter as he nips the curve of her neck, but his eyes are soft when she finally stops laughing. “I know, Adam. I trust you. So I want you to trust me, too,” she responds softly, holding his face in her hands. “And trust yourself.”

He takes her hand and kisses them, first the palm and then every single finger, and then a final kiss right on the scar. “Will do, love. That...is a promise I can keep.”

She nods sleepily, a happy and content smile on her face. “Thank you...” Then, as if not knowing what else to say, she simply throws herself at him, holding him tightly and nuzzling against his chest until he laughs and hugs her back.

“All right...let’s get some sleep, ‘ey?” She yawns and quietly tucks her head against his shoulder, eyes already drooping. “We’ve a long day ahead tomorrow...and I also owe Capa for bailing early...” He groans at the thought, the old man was not pleased about him dropping the ball at the last minute.

“It’s okay, just say that I demanded you back because I haven’t been getting any lately and you had to come back early to satisfy my raging lust,” she dramatically postures, much to his bewildered amusement. “Well it’s true--if I’m going to be honest, tonight was probably the best sex I’ve had in a while...emotions make all the difference in the world.”

“While I do agree, I think I will spare Capa those details. He’s already a perverted old man, no need to give him any more ideas,” he shudders at the thought of the photographer learning about the new lingerie, those swimsuit shots were bad enough already. “Sorry. I will do my best to satisfy your raging lust from now on, Sio.”

She can’t help but laugh at his outrageous statement. “I’ll hold you to that, then. Oyasumi, Adam.”

“Good night, Sio.”

#documentation #!nsfw #my sweetest one #//might contain more errors than usual since i wrote this while half-falling asleep at like 2am #//so it might not be as cohesive either #//a little more stream of consciousness style

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