#is this eligible for a 'whoops my hand slipped' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

destiniesfic · 4 years ago

Photo

A little dark!Alina for Tumblr user @darkalinas. Merry Christmas, Maven! I was your Secret “Sankta” for @darklinadaily’s Darklina Secret Santa. 👼 I had a blast writing this and I hope you like it. ♥

Fandom: Grishaverse (post-Ruin and Rising and King of Scars) Pairings: Darklina & Malina Word Count: 5,000 Rating: T+ Summary: Three years after the end of the Ravkan Civil War, the woman once known as Alina Starkov begins to dream.

Or: he can go anywhere he wants (just not home).

Read on AO3 or read below:

It would have been easy to think the mistress of Keramzin, who saw that the orphans straggling through her door were fed and cared for, little more than a girl herself. Boys of twelve seemed tall beside her, and the more daring among them would ask her to stand back to back with them so they could measure the difference in height and come away whooping at how they’d grown. She wore her hair unbraided and walked the halls with bare feet. Sometimes she would lose herself in a daydream and move to tackle a different section of her latest mural with her brush still wet in her hand, trailing little drips of paint like a line of kisses on the floorboards.

But appearances deceived, for the girl was a woman now, and married. She and her husband took their meals sitting among the teachers and staff, not their charges, although either of them could be tugged away from the table with the slightest excuse. Some of the youngest children, confused by her snow white hair, called her Baba like she was a grandmother. Though she was still a young woman, she sometimes moved stiffly, after she had sat too long or hunched her shoulders up to her ears while she painted, like whatever she had done before coming here siphoned some of her youth away.

When the woman slept at night, it was stretched out beside her husband under a warm duvet, safe. Neither of them dreamed often, and when they did they dreamt mainly of sunlight dancing over skin, of the woods’ silent call. But the other times, the few bad times, he was there when the nightmares reached for her with greedy fingers.

“It’s all right,” he would whisper, gathering her into his arms. “You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Although they were the right words, the things a person should say, her mouth always went dry before she could tell him that she knew.

When one night she arose from their bed in the very early hours, nothing seemed wrong. She had not woken from a nightmare, just suddenly, with no preamble and no cause. Her husband slept on beside her, his brown hair rumpled, one shoulder, sun-kissed from work outdoors, turned toward the ceiling. She thought about kissing it, but she didn’t want to wake him. She left her bed and went to the window, sitting on the bench in front of it and looking out at the pond.

The moon was strong tonight, a silver dish suspended in the sky. Everything she touched—the grass, the sliver of creek—seemed to glow. Her light spilled in through the window, washing the floor and the foot of the bed in desaturated hues, somehow making them both more and less. Where the light did not reach, shadows pooled on the floor like tar.

Most people thought that darkness was the absence of light, its opposite. She knew a different truth. Without light, there could be no shadow. Where one ventured, the other kept close.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw one of the shadows move.

She spun around, but her room was as she always knew it: sleeping husband, solid oakwood furniture, dead fire in the grate. Across the room, a ghost stared back at her, hollow-cheeked and bright-eyed. She startled, but it was only her reflection in the full-length mirror. Then, in her periphery, motion: darkness like smoke, sliding under the closed door and into the hall.

She followed.

The rebuilt Keramzin was completely dark this time of night, orphans and staff alike asleep, lost to their own dreams of tomorrow. Patches of moonlight glimmered at her feet, but the shadows between them seemed to grow darker, deeper, until she thought she might fall into them if she took a step forward. Yawning chasms, or hungry mouths.

This was like no dream she could remember. As far as she could see there was no one beside her, no one behind her. Yet she could feel a presence, she would swear to it. Something winding around her, working its way up her body. Something with a voice.

Alina, it murmured. A name only her husband called her now, when the fire was dying and they were alone, the children tucked safely in their beds.

“Alina is dead,” she said. “No one here has that name.”

A lie—Ravkans began naming their daughters for the Sun Summoner as soon as they learned of her. There were two little Alinas, both under four, in the nursery where the youngest children slept. But she didn’t think this phantom cared for technicalities.

The voice chuckled. Are you really so eager to forget yourself? She felt the brush of lips against her ear, but when she turned her head there was nothing. She was alone in the darkened hall, and she thought he had left, but then a whisper slithered into her other ear. Are you so eager to forget who you are?

“I am the mistress of Keramzin,” she told the voice. “I am the painter of these walls. I am the guardian of these children. I have made my home here, and if you won’t leave it, I will drive you out myself.”

There was silence. Then:

With what power?

“Darling?”

She turned. Her husband stood in the doorway of their room, his hair sticking up endearingly at odd angles, pajamas slung low on his hips. The shadows reverted to their normal shade, strangely innocent, keeping their secrets.

“What is it?” he asked. “I heard you talking.”

She blinked back to herself and reached for a plausible explanation. “I don’t know. Must have been sleepwalking.”

He nodded, distantly, then walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Back to bed,” he said, a yawn stretching the last word wide.

“Back to bed,” she agreed, but not without a last glance over her shoulder.

---

“Have you heard from our friend in Os Alta?” the woman asked her husband over breakfast that morning.

That’s what they called the king, that or sometimes their friend in the palace. They had a handful of friends in Os Alta, of course, the lingering remnants of another life entirely. But those friends—the Grisha Triumvirate, the king’s bodyguards, and others—could be mentioned by name occasionally. Davids and Nadias were common enough. Nikolais were, too, but it was better to be cautious with him. Better to leave nothing to chance.

Her husband frowned. “No,” he said. “Were you expecting something?”

She shrugged. They had briefly housed the king’s escort a few weeks back, sans king; the orphans had crowded the windows to gawk at the gilded carriage. When the riders went on their way to the palace, she sent a letter with them. Nothing serious, for there was nothing serious to report from Keramzin, just well-wishes and a request for news from the court. The king was a lively correspondent and usually quick to reply, happy to unburden himself of gossip or fears which he could not, or would not, share with courtiers.

“I wrote to him,” she said, spooning sugar into her tea. “But I haven’t heard back. He’s probably busy.”

“Busy choosing a wife,” her husband replied, with a hint of a snort and a solemn undercurrent that said he did not envy the king one bit.

The woman looked into the glassy surface of her tea. “I forgot,” she murmured, though that news had reached them even in Keramzin and the staff had been buzzing about it for weeks. A royal betrothal was a rare event, and an important one.

Her husband bumped her knee with his, and teased, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed, and smiled at him. That ship had sailed long ago.

Still, it bothered her that she hadn’t heard from her friend. She knew that court obligations must be keeping him occupied, especially with eligible young women swarming the capital, but she wished she had a letter back so she could reply in kind. He was the only person who understood the way darkness had lodged itself between her ribs like a long thorn, reaching to pierce her heart. If she could just slip in a question about his demons, if she could just have reassurance that all was well with him, then maybe she would cease to worry about the impossible.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of her tea. It seemed silly to have those fears here. The air was bright with the chatter of children being herded into their first lessons of the day, with cooking smells, with autumn sun. Half the walls were covered in paintings of fantastical scenes, her own doing, and she wondered if she had been trying to create a ward to keep the darkness out.

“I heard there were earthquakes last night,” her husband said, changing the subject. “Maybe that’s what woke you.”

She frowned. “Earthquakes? Here?”

“All over Ravka. As far south as Dva Stolba.”

Dva Stolba. A shiver ran down her spine. “Why do they think it happened?”

“An act of nature,” said her husband, unbothered. “These things happen, beloved.”

The woman nodded and looked back into her tea. Strange things had been happening all year, it seemed—bridges of bone, statues sprouting flowers, forests falling in the night. It might mean nothing.

And yet when she tried to paint that day, her blues kept running into her blacks, and shadows marred her paintings like bruises. She retired to her room early, dreading her dreams.

---

She did not dream that night, nor the next, nor the one after that, and she breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that her husband was right, that things do happen. That sometimes earthquakes were only earthquakes, and dreams only dreams.

The next time she woke unexpectedly it was to the sound of a bright, sustained note, like ringing in her ears. Someone was playing the piano downstairs. One of the kids must have gotten up and decided to wander around in the night.

Her husband slept on next to her, bracketing her back, and she knew it would fall to her to handle this before the playing woke up the rest of the orphanage. She sighed, pushed her hair back from her face, and slipped out of bed, quietly pulling the door to behind her.

The child fooling around with the piano kept playing and holding the same note, as if not sure where to go from the single key they’d discovered. It was in one of the upper octaves, and although she’d begun to learn how to play the piano alongside some of her more gifted charges, she did not have the knack for knowing which note it was.

But when her feet found the cold tile of the foyer and she hurried to the drawing room where the piano stood, she saw the person sitting at the keys was not a child at all.

The phantom had shape now. He wore a long cloak of all black, with the hood pulled up to cast his face in shadow. She knew what he would look like if he drew it down, and it was that terrible knowledge which rooted her to the spot. He sat on the piano bench like there was real weight to him.

“You’re not here,” she said, as if the words alone were a revocation, a shield.

The phantom pressed the piano key again, and the note held, high and wavering, suspended in the air between them. She looked around, thinking it might wake the staff, or maybe some of the children would stumble bleary-eyed from their rooms, but in her heart she knew no one would come.

“You’re not real,” she insisted.

“Come and sit,” he said. His voice was cool like a poisoned spring at the height of summer, the last drink of the desperate.

She refused to slip into the well of him and stayed where she was, folding her arms over her chest. “You’re in my home.”

“Yes, and such work you’ve done, rebuilding it.” He didn’t need to remind her that he had once burnt Keramzin to the ground, slaughtered all those that had a hand in raising her. She could hear the smile in his voice, picture the way his lips curved under that hood. “Sit with me. I’ll be on my way soon enough.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Would you believe a dead man’s word?”

She shook her head. She wouldn’t have believed him when he was alive. “All you’ve ever done is lie, dead or not.”

“I bent the truth to my will, Alina. I omitted.” There it was again, the name that was hers and wasn’t. She hated the tenderness with which he said it, the same her husband’s voice held when he called her beloved, or my heart.

“A lie of omission is still a lie,” she said.

He made a small, skeptical sound, and then began to play in earnest, coaxing sad, strange music from a piano more accustomed to the clumsy fumblings of students. She had never heard a song like this, composed of discordant notes that didn’t quite fit together and made the hair on her arms stand on end. She found herself moving closer to the piano, watching his bone-white fingers move over the ivory keys, trying to figure out how he was doing it.

He softened his playing, gentled his touch, so that he could speak to her with his head still bowed. “How long has it been since you’ve seen my face at night?”

“Years,” she whispered. Another lie. She couldn’t keep him from entering her thoughts, the man she’d almost loved, the man she killed. She would go weeks at a time without thinking of him, and then he’d glide into her last thoughts before sleep, or she’d feel her husband’s callused hands on her skin and think of the one breathless night he’d gripped her thigh and nearly had her, all of the other evenings that weren’t.

“Would you like to see it again?”

“No.”

He chuckled and stopped playing, then reached up to draw back his hood.

At first she saw only what she expected: his familiar, beautiful face, with its high cheekbones, his thick, dark hair, his cruel mouth curving up at the corner. There were the faint scars that marked his survival of the time she stranded him on the Fold. But that was what she wanted to see. The other half of his face was a rotten mess. Mottled grey skin flaked away from bone, a dark hollow gaped where his eye should be. There were no lips to hide his straight white teeth, and no nose at all. How he would have rotted, if he hadn’t burned.

He smiled.

She screamed.

The cook, emerging from her room to set out breakfast, found her asleep at the keys, her forearm slung in front of the music rack, pillowing her forehead.

---

The woman was led to her bed, skin hot, buried in blankets as soft and heavy as the first snow of winter. A doctor from the nearby town was summoned to diagnose her with influenza, told her husband to see to it that she rested and drank her tea. She had always been prone to sickness when the weather changed–except for the one glorious, blazing year that her ill health could not touch her, when the light she wielded kept it at bay.

She gave that up. She was supposed to have her happily-ever-after.

“I saw him, Mal,” she said, clutching at her husband’s sleeve as he pressed a cool compress to her forehead. “I saw him.”

“Your temperature’s still high,” he replied, cupping her cheek in his work-roughened hand. She closed her eyes. “Fever dreams. He’s gone, love. You saw to that.”

Later, she saw her husband standing in the door, speaking in a low voice to the doctor, asking about paranoia, about delusions, about what it meant that his wife saw ghosts. The doctor shook his head, told him she needed to sweat it out, that after a few days she would be right as rain.

She told no one there was a weight on her chest that had nothing to do with her flu.

But her body won its fight eventually. After a few days her skin cooled, and instead of sipping clear broth from a bowl held carefully by one of the orphanage nurses, she was able to join the rest of Keramzin at dinner, seated at her husband’s side. The staff all greeted her warmly and told her how much better she looked, even though she knew they whispered about the circles under her eyes even when she was well.

Sitting there in the dining room, she was struck suddenly by a sense of profound dissatisfaction with her life. Why should she endure gossip and speculation? Why should she have her counsel so easily disregarded by the physician, by her husband, her words of warning dismissed as flights of fancy? She, who had been a saint. She, who was nearly queen. Why—

But then one of the little girls threw her arms around the woman’s legs and said, “Baba, I’m glad you’re better,” and the world righted itself. She let her hand rest on the back of the girl’s silken head, and breathed.

---

“Keep me awake tonight,” she told her husband later, as they turned down the gas lamps and climbed into bed. “I don’t want to dream.”

“You need your rest,” he replied, smoothing a lock of white hair back from her face.

She twined her arms around his shoulders. “I’m not glass,” she murmured. “I won’t break. Keep me up.”

He tried his best, and so did she, but sleep, ever the creditor, claimed its debts in the end. Although at first she did not realize she was asleep, having sild into it sideways; one moment she watched her husband’s chest rise and fall, and the next she blinked, and the waning moon had moved outside the window. The back of her neck prickled with the creeping certainty that she was being watched. There was someone else in the room with them.

She reached for her sleeping husband to wake him, to tell him, to show him, but her hand passed over his shoulder like rain running down a windowpane. She jerked it back, as if she had burned it. Her husband didn’t stir.

“He won’t wake,” said the soft, cool voice from behind her. “You’re in my domain now.”

The woman closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. “I thought it was ours,” she said after a moment. “Not yours. I could call to you, too.”

“But you haven’t, have you, Alina?”

“There’s no point calling on a dead man.”

“Am I so dead?”

The more fool her, expecting a nightmare to know he was deceased. The more fool her, for thinking him just a nightmare. She turned over, holding her blankets close to her chest, and found a figure standing at her bedside, nearly human, not a shadow, not half corpse.

She blinked up at him. “You’re whole now.”

“I only wanted to remind you of the damage you did,” he said.

How could she forget? She killed both him and her husband that day, so much heart’s blood gouting warm over her hands. If one had returned to her, it didn’t seem so unlikely that the other would as well, even though she’d watched him burn.

But she wondered if that was it, or if he simply had the strength now to appear as he liked. He had been formless at first, just a whisper in her ear. Now he stood at her bedside, lifelike. His hood was pushed back from his face, and the moonlight glimmered on his sharp, elegant cheekbones, haloed his dark hair. His scars, which had appeared after she stranded him on the Fold, were gone. He looked down at her with his pale grey eyes, and she very much wished she were clothed.

“What do you want?” she asked, smoothing her hand over the blankets.

“A word. A walk.”

“And what if I don’t want to give you those things?”

His mouth curved into a smile, but she read sadness in his eyes. “Then I will come again, Alina. The tracker may think he has you in the day, but your nights are mine.”

She closed her eyes again and imagined him eroding her dreams over and over, until he became the only thought left in her head. She imagined sitting up for days, trying to avoid him. It chilled her blood. If they had thought her paranoid before…

“No tricks,” she told him. “Look away. I need to dress.”

He scoffed, “You act as though we’re strangers.”

“Some things belong to me,” she reminded him. “Look away.”

He pursed his lips, but turned his head away from her. She slipped out of bed, careful not to touch him, and gathered up her discarded nightgown, her underwear, dressing as quickly as she could. She stepped into her slippers, determined to make him wait as long as possible, before asking, “Where are we walking?”

“Around your orphanage, to start.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms and tucked her hands under her armpits so he couldn’t take them.

The door to their room had a squeaky hinge, one her husband had been meaning to grease for a couple of weeks now. When the phantom opened it, it made no sound. She listened, hard, for his footfalls on the floor.

“Tell me, does this life suit you?” he asked, as they walked side by side through the darkened hall, the only two awake in a house, or perhaps a world, of sleepers. “Do you enjoy being painter and patroness?”

“I do,” she said. It did not taste like a lie.

He hummed. “Do you enjoy being a mere wife, when you might have been a queen?”

“Men wanted to make me their queen,” she reminded him. “That was never something I chose for myself.”

“All the more reason you would have been a good one,” he said. “Power is wasted by those who crave it. It’s twisted, perverted, misused. You would have made an excellent queen.”

“That’s a rare moment of self-awareness from you.”

An amused glint lit his eyes, a candle flame in a darkened window. “I never wanted power for power’s sake, Alina. I loved my country.”

“Did you?” She paused for a moment to consider a painted vine snaking around a bannister, which was already beginning to flake off. She scratched at a leaf with her index finger; green came away under her nail. “Then why couldn’t you stop destroying it?”

“Ah,” he said.

“Well?”

“So young, so wise, so married,” he mused, “and yet you know nothing of love.”

He took the stairs without waiting for her to follow. She did, of course, determined to chase him down and to explain all the ways that he was wrong, then realizing, partway down, that he would only take her arguments as defensiveness. So she reminded herself of what she knew. She loved her life. She loved the children in her care. She loved her husband. Her love would not destroy them. It would not destroy her.

But she had loved power, too, once. And now her power was dead.

He waited for her by the two grand double doors that stood at Keramzin’s main entrance. She tried to follow the lines of his cloak with her eyes, but it bled into the shadows at his feet. He watched her steadily.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now we walk.” And he held out his hand.

She stared at him.

“You won’t get to where we’re going if you don’t take it.” He spread his fingers out a little, beckoning her. “Alina.”

She held his gaze as she slipped her hand into his. She half-expected to feel the surge of power, familiar and wild, that used to always manifest when she touched him. She didn’t feel that, but she didn’t feel nothing. Some dark thing fluttered just to the side of her heart, a fledgling raven not quite ready to leave the nest.

“Aleksander,” she said.

He pushed open the door.

They stepped together, and for a moment it was as if the shadows had swallowed them whole. She felt like she had stepped back into the nothingness of the Fold, an all-consuming, weightless darkness. But then it resolved itself, and she saw that she was in a grey, windowless room. She blinked and pressed her hand to one of the walls, feeling cool stone under her palm. With a surge of panic, she looked over her shoulder and saw the only door was metal and sealed tight.

“This is a cell,” she said, her heart sinking. Had she stepped into a trap without knowing? Would she be able to leave? “Why would you bring me here?”

“A glimpse of the future,” he said, ever inscrutable.

And then his mouth was hot and hard on hers, and her back collided with the wall. She was so surprised that for a moment she didn’t react, for a moment her lips parted and she let herself be kissed, and then she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” she cried, as if someone might hear, someone outside. Someone who could intervene.

“What you want.”

That dark thing fluttered behind her ribcage again. “I have a husband.”

“Your husband,” he said, voice heavy with derision. “The tracker. Have you forgotten? You murdered your husband the day you murdered me.”

“Clearly it didn’t take.” She kept her hands firm on his shoulders. He certainly felt real, firm and strong, all lean muscle.

His laugh was low and dangerous. “Are you so deserving of good things? Are you so deserving of kindness? You put a dagger in both of us, Alina. Tell me why I shouldn’t repay you in kind.”

She felt one of his hands slip up her nightdress, settling on her thigh, a strange echo of the position they’d been in years ago, that very different night. Her blood pulsed hot in her ears, and she knew it was not a dagger he was planning to stick her with. “You’re dead,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. She refused to let him rattle her. “I think that would make it difficult. No blood to spare.”

He gave her a narrow, rueful grin. “If I’m truly dead, does it matter what we do?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His other hand traced a half-circle over her collarbones, where Morozova’s antlers once sat, before gently tilting her chin up. She could not look away from him. In life, there was always such intensity in his gaze, and the gaze of this nightmare, this dream, was no different. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “Tell me to stop, if that’s what you want.”

She didn’t tell him to stop. He was gentler this time, his lips ghosting over her cheek before finding hers, molding to her instead of forcing his way in. She shut her eyes tight, but her grip on his shoulders turned into something else, a near embrace, another battle in their war. She could even smell him, cool and crisp like the approach of winter. His hand was warm on her thigh.

“You have something of mine,” he murmured against her mouth. “Do you know how to use it?”

“What?” she asked breathily.

She felt him smile. “I’m not so far away, Alina,” he said. “Come and find me.”

---

When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the middle of Keramzin’s drive in her nightdress and slippers. Although it was late autumn and a breeze brushed her white hair back from her face like a lover’s fingers, she didn’t feel the cold.

Dawn was just beginning to break in the east, a pink tinge illuminating the dark branches of naked trees. She stood there, watching the morning sun rise, and held her hands up to it, hoping to catch the rays in her palms and hold them for a while. But they glided over her skin, indifferent to what she wanted. She tried not to let her disappointment swallow her. She had felt a tug when he touched her. She had hoped...

But maybe that wasn’t the answer.

“There you are,” said a voice from behind her. She turned and found her husband standing in the door, his feet bare. He had dressed in haste, and his shirt didn’t quite sit right on his shoulders. She saw the nurse peeking out behind him.

“Sleepwalking,” she called from the drive. “Don’t worry.”

“You should come in,” he said. “You’ll make yourself sick again.” She could hear his concern warring with his impulse not to frighten her off. If they could only pretend everything was fine, then everything would be.

“In a minute.” She looked toward the trees bordering the drive, their little patch of forest. “There’s something I want to try.”

“Ali—” he began, then stopped, remembered himself. “Just come in.”

She smiled at him like she couldn’t still feel the ghost of another man’s kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Before he could say another word, she walked off into the trees, where the shadows grew thick like underbrush, even at midday. But it was dawn, with the sun’s light slanting at an angle, and the thick trunks of trees sprouted long, dark shadows that blanketed the leaf-covered ground. She walked until she was sure she could no longer be seen. Eventually, someone would come to bring her in. Better to be quick. Better to be sure.

Alina held out her hands.

The shadows greeted her like an old friend.

#darklina #alarkling #darklinadaily #darklina secret santa #grishaverse #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the grisha trilogy #shadow and bone #mine: fic #darklinasecretsanta

93 notes · View notes

demonbanisher · 4 years ago

Text

My second entry for @goodboylupin’s Candy Hearts fest! Thanks to the amazing @kattlupin for being such a wonderful beta!

This started out as a short little story and quickly devolved into a 6000 word fic but I had so much writing it!

DM Me

Remus sits, lounging on the couch in a bit of a Superbowl daze. He doesn’t like football. In fact, his understanding of it is limited to the flag football unit in gym class years ago, but he is always happy for any excuse for drinks, good food and even better company. In fact, he doesn’t even really know who’s playing, all he knows is that one of the team’s has a racially insensitive name and he has taken to calling the other team ‘the blue ones.’

It’s coming up to the end of the second quarter and the racially insensitive team is in the lead by a landslide. The game is interrupted by what seems to be yet another commercial break. Remus smiles as he listens to Lily and Frank bicker over the latest play and tugs his phone out of his pocket to scroll through Twitter. There are lots of people discussing the game and others who are just waiting for the halftime show to come on. Among these Remus finds a tweet from one of his favourite musicians:

Washington has this in the bag 💪🏼 💪🏼 Might as well give it up now Patriots 🤷♂️

Remus snorts, appreciating the overzealous confidence that could only come from someone with the ability to play on stage in front of millions of people and somehow make you feel like he was playing just for you. He quickly types up a reply and hits send without thinking much about it.

Confident much @padfoot09? When the Patriots win, you better go on a date with me.

He tosses his phone to the side and is surprised to hear it buzz a moment later. He reads the notification off his lock screen.

Game on @moonymoon

Keep Reading on AO3

Or below the cut

Remus smiles, basking in the specific drug of being recognized by someone famous online. He knows Sirius Black is likely just a regular person like anyone else. But to Remus he’s an amazing musician and an even better lyricist, and to the rest of the world he’s the most eligible bachelor and biggest heartthrob. Remus can’t help but feel a little special to be recognized by him even if it is just for some stupid joke.

Remus cracks open another cider and settles in for the rest of the game. Although, he is starting to learn his friend’s reactions are the best part. It’s entertaining to watch them yell at the screen as if the players can actually hear them or like they know any better than the decisions that the coaches are making.

The rest of the game passes by in a bit of blur. The halftime show went off without a hitch, although Remus guessed some of the underlying political messaging would be all over the news for the next few days because damn it if someone in a position of privilege uses their voice to speak out about human rights concerns. As for the rest of the game, Remus was delightfully surprised to watch the blue ones make a wonderful comeback to beat the racially insensitive team. It made for an interesting game at least. No one really knew who was going to win until those last few seconds on the clock counted down.

As the team runs the field to celebrate and Frank and Lily break out into another argument of who the better team is, Remus slips off to the bathroom. Shaking his head at his friend's antics as he smiles quietly to himself. When he comes back, everyone’s sitting in their positions on the couch. Remus guesses that Alice has managed to reel Frank back in but Lily still looks like she’s ready for another round.

“Your phone’s been going off the whole time you’ve been gone Mr. Popular,” Lily tells him, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Remus goes to pick up his phone, confused, and a little worried as to who might be messaging him, only to find out that his Twitter had practically exploded.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs as he opens the app.

“What?” Lily asks.

Remus shakes his head and holds it out to her so she can read the message herself. It’s from Sirius Black:

@moonymoons DM me 😉

“Oh my god,” Lily repeats.

“What?” Frank asks, all previous rivalry forgotten in the desire to not be left out from something.

“Remus’ got a date with Sirius Black.”

“The singer?” Alice asks wide eyed. “How??”

Remus nods his head slowly in disbelief.

“Bet him on Twitter that the Patriots would win. Here,” Lily says, thrusting Remus’ phone back into his hands. “You have to message him!”

“Alright,” Remus says. “But he probably won’t follow through with it anyways. Besides, he doesn’t live near here and it was a stupid bet.”

Remus opens up his messages and tries to think of something witty to say before finally landing on:

- Told you they’d win

He watches the three dots appear that tell him that Sirius is typing. When the message finally comes in he has to blink twice to make sure he isn’t imagining it.

- So? Where do you want to go on our date?

“Holy shit,” Remus says. “He wants to go through with it.”

Lily, Frank, and Alice quickly crowd around him so that they can read over his shoulder.

“What are you going to tell him?” Alice asks.

“I don’t know!” Remus exclaims. “What do you tell a Grammy award winning multi-millionaire when he asks you where you want to go on your date?”

“Here,” Lily says, snatching the phone from him. They all watch nervously as her fingers fly over the keyboard before she hands it back to Remus. Frank and Alice lean in quickly in order to read over his shoulder.

“What are your thoughts on pancakes?” Remus reads aloud. “Really Lils?! That was the best you could come up with?”

“Shh,” she says as she swats him in the arm, “he’s typing.”

They all watch the screen in silent anticipation until a soft whoop announces the arrival of another message.

- Love them. Where did you have in mind?

“Is now a good time to tell him I don’t live in LA?”

“Probably,” Lily says.

Remus casts a despairing look at Frank and Alice who simply shrug at him sympathetically.

- There’s a diner near here that’s my favourite. But I don’t live anywhere near LA

Remus debates about adding ‘and I don’t have the money to get there either’ but decides against it.

- Where are you?

Remus sends back the name of his small town and braces himself for Sirius to tell him that it’s too much, and this was all over.

- Just googled it. I’ll be in New York in a few weeks for a concert. Maybe I can get you tickets and then we can do pancakes in the morning?

“How far away is New York?” Remus asks Alice, knowing she’d made a trip out there last fall to see a new musical she was excited about.

“I think it took us sixteen hours, but we did get stuck in traffic.”

“Is Sirius Black really going to drive sixteen hours with me to have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds like it, mate,” Frank says and he looks just as astonished as Remus feels. His phone buzzes with another message from Sirius:

- You in?

Remus looks at his friends hoping they know what the right answer is to the question. In some way, he hopes one of them will remember some pressing engagement he has to attend so he can get out of this crazy idea. But they all just look at him with hopeful glances and shrugs. He sighs and turns back to his phone.

- I’m in. Send me the date and time.

Two weeks later, Remus finds himself pacing the entryway of his hotel room waiting for the car that Sirius was sending for him. A car. A private car. He has pinched himself too many times trying to prove that this was real. He checks his phone for the millionth time, not sure what he’s expecting as Sirius is probably deep in pre-concert preparations.

He glances down at his outfit that Frank, Alice, and Lily had helped him pick out. He plays with the threads on the tight black skinny jeans, as he looks over the worn Ramones crop top that Alice had lent him, topped off with his button covered jean jacket that Lily had convinced him was cool and not old looking at all. They’d painted his nails black and silver and given him some pretty killer eyeliner, which had somehow managed to survive the crazy combination of transportation he’d opted for over the sixteen hour drive. First the car ride to the airport, then the short flight in a too small plane, and finally the subway trip to the very fancy hotel Sirius had insisted he pay for, and not a smudge in sight. Still, he’s nervous. He’s sure that Sirius will see him and call this whole thing off.

Everything about the last two weeks has felt surreal. Sirius and him have been messaging back and forth on Twitter to sort out the details until one morning Sirius had asked for his phone number, saying it would be easier to communicate that way, and he felt he could trust Remus to not give it out to people. Lily had practically had to give him the heimlich maneuver to stop him from choking on his frosted flakes.

Honestly, Remus was more than happy to get off Twitter. He’d been bombarded by superfans after the news went public that Sirius was taking him on a date. Some people wanted to let him know how lucky he was. Others were a bit more aggressive in their opinions on Remus going on a date with who they considered to be their man.

More than anything, Remus was surprised to discover how much they had in common. How quickly their conversations had gravitated from necessary details to their favourite morning cartoons and sweatpant brands. Remus has always felt that Sirius Black has a window to his soul. He just hadn’t realized how big that window truly was.

His phone buzzes in his hand and he answers the unknown number to discover that Sirius’ driver is waiting outside. After triple checking his pockets and locking the door, Remus makes his way downstairs and into the waiting black car. The seats are leather and a bottle of champagne sits on ice in front of him. There’s a note tied to it that says ‘See you soon, Moony’ and Remus would be lying if he didn’t admit that it sends his heart aflutter. He tries to reel himself in and remind himself that this will be one incredible, amazing night but it isn’t going to be some grand rom-com where they ended up together forever.

“Everything to your liking, Mr. Lupin?” The driver asks.

“Yes, excellent, thank you,” Remus says, blushing at the formality. He’s just some poor kid who had worked his ass off to get through college. He never thought he’d get to experience this level of decadence.

When they arrive at the venue, Remus finds himself ushered into the backstage door and passed off into the hands of a very exhausted looking manager who introduces herself as Marlene. She sets him up with a backstage pass, tells him where he can and can’t go, and leaves him in a room full of more food and drinks that Remus would probably buy in two months worth of groceries, with the instruction that someone would come and find him before the concert begins.

Remus munches on some chocolate covered strawberries and cracks a can of alcoholic cider open as he tries to settle his nerves in preparation for the concert. It feels like he’s in that room for hours. He sends messages to their friend group chat, updating them on what’s going on, and laughing when Lily warns him to watch out for Sirius trying to lure him into any cults. Apparently, that’s the wild theory the tabloids have come up with this week.

He also receives a picture from Sirius. He’s wearing a black button down, which is completely undone to reveal his tattoos, and he has heavy eyeliner on and is sticking his tongue out with his hand in a punk rock sign. He’s captioned it, ‘See you soon!’ Remus is pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven.

Eventually, another stagehand comes to grab him and take him up to the side of the stage so he can watch the show. Remus chats with some of the other people loitering around but falls silent when the lights finally dim. The crowd roars as a signal spotlight comes on and then into the light strides Sirius and his guitar.

He’s breathtaking, standing in the centre of the stage like it’s where he belongs and from the first strum of his guitar, he has the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. Remus dances and screams the lyrics to every song. He tries not to faint when in the midst of one of his numbers, Sirius turns and gives him a little wink.

Remus has always loved live music. He’s seen countless underground shows and up and comers in bars whenever he could. But he’s never been to a concert like this before. He’d wanted to but by the time you added up the cost of the ticket, travel, food, and accommodations, it was more than he could bear. But being here now, he realizes this is a whole different beast. A part of him misses the quiet intimacy of those smaller shows, but he can’t help feeling the powerful pull of the electricity that runs through the crowd. There’s something so haunting and surreal in the way that Sirius can stop singing at any point and the audience can carry on from where he left off without missing a beat. It’s beautiful to feel connected to a group of familiar strangers. To know that everyone in this theatre had been touched by the beauty of Sirius’ music somehow, that they felt that same powerful pull that Remus had when he’d heard his voice over the radio for the first time, that they had known that somehow this had been created just for them. They are here as a collective but there’s something so personal about their own experiences.

“How are you all doing out there?” Sirius asks and the crowd roars in response.

“Excellent, excellent. I think we’re going to slow it down a bit for this next one,” Sirius says. And Remus closes his eyes as he hears Sirius’ guitarist pluck out the opening notes to his favourite ballad. When he opens them again, Sirius is standing right in front of him. He beams at him as he mouths a silent “hi” before grabbing his hand. He tilts his head to ask if this is okay as he hands his guitar off to a roadie. Remus nods and finds himself being dragged out onto the stage with him. He lets go of Remus centre stage and turns to face him, there’s so little room between them that Remus could lick the microphone in Sirius’ hand if he wanted to.

You’ve been howling in your sleep Werewolf dreams coming over me I’ve been counting sheep Think I need a hundred more to set me free

Sirius reaches a hand out to place it on Remus’ waist as he croons in his beautiful lilting voice. His grey eyes search Remus’ for an answer and he nods allowing Sirius to rest his strong hand on his hip.

Muddy footprints in the dark Darling, I swear you’ve collared my heart I’ve got butterflies But can you see the darkness in my eyes?

Sirius leans his forehead against Remus’ as the guitar builds up to the chorus. The crowd is losing their mind but Remus can’t hear them. His world has narrowed down to this one point of touch. To the feeling of Sirius’ warm skin pressed against his. The moment seems to last forever before he’s pulling away to sing again.

It’s a full moon baby Demons crawling over me But then I see your star lit eyes Darling, I swear you were sent to set me free Set me free

Remus loses himself in the rest of the song. Even though he knew he could sing the words from heart with headphones on blasting the Sesame Street theme. But he slips away from all of that in the feel of the sensuous way that Sirius is moving against him, in his warm breath against his cheek, in the way his eyes never seem to leave Remus’ body if even for a moment.

But as always, the song must come to an end and the final roar of the crowd breaks the spell and Remus finds himself blushing madly with the realization that tens of thousands of people were witness to this private moment between the two of them. Sirius smiles at him and gives his hand another squeeze before Remus is flanked again by roadies. One handing Sirius’ his guitar tuned for the next song. The other coming to guide him backstage again.

Remus spends the rest of the concert love drunk. His eyes don’t leave Sirius for a single moment.

When it’s over, Remus is led back to the same room he was in before. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do next and he’s about to try and find his way back to the hotel when there’s a knock on the door and Sirius Black himself is standing there.

Away from the darkness of the stage and in the harsh fluorescent light, Remus can fully take him in. The dark black hair that is slicked back with sweat. The taunt muscles of his chest that are covered in black ink of various runes and images. The black flowy pants that Remus swears sit a little too low on his hips.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” Remus says trying to gain his composure and hoping that Sirius doesn’t notice him staring.

“Hope you didn’t mind me dragging you on stage. I did promise you a date after all,” he walks by Remus to the table of food and pops a grape in his mouth, curling his lips around it in a way that should be illegal.

“No, of course not,” Remus says, mentally bashing himself for sounding like an idiot. “Moonlight is my favourite song. I mean of yours… well that’s a lie. It’s my favourite song in general. I think Spotify said I listened to it over four hundred times last year. Oh my god, I need to shut up,” Remus buries his head in his hand as Sirius laughs and of course, the sound is as beautiful as his singing voice.

“I’m flattered,” Sirius says. He considers Remus for a moment and opens his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by someone yelling his name from the hallway. “Shit, my manager,” he says. He drops the rest of the grape vine back on the plate and starts to head to the door. “Still good for pancakes tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, but you do know how long of a drive it is right? Might be night before we get there.”

“Who said anything about driving?”

And with those cryptic words and one last smile, he slips out of the door and away into the night.

Remus goes for a simpler outfit the next morning. Jeans and one of his better sweaters. A loose knit maroon one that is one of the last sweaters he has where the neck isn’t stretched. He packs up his things from the hotel and waits for the knock on his door.

When he answers, he’s surprised to see how different Sirius looks. Last night’s makeup is all washed off, and his hair is tied back in a messy bun. Instead of a bold stylish outfit he’s usually known for he wears loose jeans, an old t-shirt, and a leather jacket. A pair of aviator sunglasses sit perched atop his head.

“Ready?” He says with a smile.

“Of course,” Remus says and goes to grab his bags until Sirius tells him someone else can get them for him. It’s odd to him, this life of being able to count on other people for things. It also feels wrong in some way to have them do what he could so easily handle on his own but he decides to let it go for once.

He and Sirius weave their way through the lobby, his security detail staying close at hand until they are safely in the black car from the night before. Sirius seems to heave a sigh of relief as the door is closed and the jeers of fans are locked out from outside.

“What time do you think we’ll be there?” Remus asks.

“Maybe 11?” Sirius says. “Why?”

“No reason,” Remus tells him but pulls out his phone to send a quick message.

They stay relatively quiet for the rest of the car ride until they arrive at another tall, dark, building. Remus is confused. He had figured that if they weren’t driving they’d be heading back through the small convoluted method he’d taken to get here. Sirius leads him to the elevator and Remus feels a quick flash of fear as he wonders if Lily’s cult theory is true. But then the door bings and Sirius guides him out of the elevator and onto the roof where a black helicopter sits waiting for them.

“You’re shitting me,” Remus says and gets to hear Sirius’ wonderful laugh again.

“Nope, you don’t have a fear of flying do you?”

Remus shakes his head.

“Good,” Sirius says and surprises him by climbing into the pilot’s seat.

“You fly?”

“Not as well as I sing.”

Remus’ face pales and Sirius is quick to assure him he’s just kidding.

He pulls down his sunglasses and settles a headset over his ears before reaching over to help Remus put his on. Sirius’ hands brush gently against Remus’ cheek and he finds himself blushing for the umpteenth time.

Flying in a helicopter is so much different from being in a plane. It’s loud for one thing, but Remus quickly gets used to using the headsets to communicate with Sirius. Being in a helicopter also means they are that much closer to the ground and Remus watches as they get closer and closer to his hometown. From up here, the farmer’s fields separating the suburban sprawl looks almost beautiful. It makes him hate the tiny village that has kept him trapped a little less.

Sirius has to bring the helicopter down about an hour out of the village, since that’s the nearest available helipad. From there it's back into another car and then to the restaurant.

Before they get out at the diner, Remus catches Sirius steeling himself again, he feels grateful that he thought to send the text message ahead of time as they climb out of the car and up to the front doors.

Sirius goes to open the door for him but Remus shakes his head, stepping ahead of him to knock gently. Sirius looks at him confused but Remus doesn't say anything until Dorcas is opening the door for them.

“Hey Dor,” Remus says smiling as she steps aside to let them in. “Thanks again for doing this I promise I’ll pay you back.”

She waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sirius seems surprised that she doesn’t seem to stare or look at him in that awe inspired way people stare at celebrities. Dorcas slips back into the kitchen and Remus guides him over to his favourite booth with a view of the river. He feels slightly self-conscious of the worn floors and duct tape vinyl but has an odd feeling this will be a welcome change for Sirius.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Remus says as he sits down across from him and gestures absent-mindedly at the obvious absence of other guests. “I thought it might be nice for you to not be interrupted by fans for a change.”

He watches as Sirius’ face lights up with understanding. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I honestly don’t know how you’d stand it. All that attention all the time.”

Sirius smiles at him softly, “I don’t know. You did pretty good with it last night.”

Remus blushes and looks back down at the table.

“But, yeah, it can be exhausting sometimes. People don’t look at you like you’re a human being you know? They treat you like some kind of God or something.”

Remus feels a small tinge of guilt, remembering how awe-struck he’d been when he’d been messaging Sirius on Superbowl Sunday.

“So,” Remus says, changing the subject, “you don’t have any allergies do you?”

Sirius shakes his head.

“Good. I’ve asked Dorcas to bring us some banana pancakes, plus waffles and her famous fried chicken. I know we agreed on pancakes but it would be sinful for you to come all the way out here and not get to try it.”

Sirius smiles, “Sounds delicious.”

“Believe me it is.”

Dorcas kicks open the door to the kitchen. “Y’all want something to drink?”

Remus looks at Sirius, “Root beer float?” He nods. “Two,” he tells Dorcas who nods and then slips back into the kitchen.

“So Patriots fan?” Sirius asks as Dorcas sets the floats down in front of them.

“Actually, I don’t know anything about football. I just thought you were being cocky,” he teases as he takes a sip from his straw. “What about you? Washington? Can’t say I’m a fan of the name.”

Sirius flinches, “Yeah, I feel bad for supporting the team. I mean it’s kinda sad that we still have sports teams with that name in our day and age. I just try and call them Washington. I know it doesn’t fix everything but…”

“You do what you can?”

Sirius nods. “No point in having a platform if you don’t use it.”

Remus smiles, thinking of the pictures online of Sirius holding up various pride flags that fans have handed him on stage. He’s gotten himself in hot water more than once for calling out other artists and stars for inappropriate, racist, ableist, and sexist behaviour. If Remus was honest, it only made him like his music more.

“What about you?” Sirius says, “Tell me all about the infamous Remus Lupin.”

“Not much to tell.”

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a curriculum developer for a school board.”

“I like it,” Sirius says, curling his lips around the straw the same way he did with the grape last night. “Taking the system down from the inside.”

“Trying. Nothing like having a stage of millions at your disposal.”

Sirius' smile falters and Remus immediately regrets saying it. “Doesn’t matter much when you don’t know if half of them are listening to what you’re saying or just staring at your body.”

“Well, if it helps at least one fan is,” Remus says, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Sirius smiles but Remus can tell it’s half-hearted. He’s rescued by Dorcas arriving with steaming plates of food that she puts down on the table in front of them.

“Oh my god,” Sirius says. “My trainer is gonna hate me for this.”

Remus laughs but thinks about how difficult it must be to have every element of your life prescribed and controlled. To be put under a harsh spotlight and scrutinized every second of every day.

Remus pours syrup on the pancakes and Sirius is quick to cut into the stack and stuff an ungodly amount of food into his mouth at once. Sirius lets out a moan that would have made Remus self-conscious if there had been anyone else around.

“Not gonna lie. I thought pancakes were a creative but weird date idea but honestly these are worth it.”

“Guess you’ll have to make bets with strangers on Twitter more often.”

“That means I’d have to go on dates with other people instead of you,” Sirius teases reaching for a piece of a chicken.

And Remus hates how he can do that to him. How with a few words he can have him melting into a puddle. He tries to act normal as he layers chicken and waffle together before taking a bite.

“Very funny,” Remus says.

“Why do you do that?” Sirius asks.

“Do what?”

“Make yourself smaller when other people come in the room. You did it last night too in the dressing room and this morning on our way out to the car.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just think I’m not worth drawing attention to. Might as well leave the spotlight for someone else.”

“But you didn’t do it on stage yesterday,” Sirius says as he pops another piece of chicken in his mouth, pausing to lick the grease off his fingers. Honestly, Remus swears he could make picking up dog poop look sexy.

“Your music makes me feel like I’m worth something,” Remus says without thinking. “Sorry, that’s weird.”

“No,” Sirius says, laying a hand on top of Remus’. “It’s not. I like that you’re honest with me. Some people I don’t know if they really listen to what I’m saying. But you, last night, I could tell you were really hearing me. That you were there with me in the moment. You play the same songs a million times you start to forget what that feels like.”

“Well,” Remus says realizing that this may be the only chance he gets to tell Sirius how much his music has meant to him, “it makes me feel invincible. It makes me believe that there’s beautiful things in pain. That I’m not alone in this world. That even through darkness I can find love. That even through darkness I can find myself again.”

Sirius stares at him, the same way he was looking at him in the dressing room last night before they got interrupted.

“What?” Remus asks, worried he has food on his face.

“Nothing,” Sirius says. “It’s just you show your face to the world. You might try to hide it but last night I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was really seeing who you were and you were seeing me too.”

Remus' jaw hangs slightly ajar. He doesn’t quite know what to say to such a monumental statement, to such a declaration.

The double doors to the kitchen open and Dorcas walks out to see if they need anything. Remus can’t decide if he’s happy or mad for her interruption. Sirius tells her how amazing the food is and she beams in response before slipping away again. Remus doesn’t say anything but he knows the diner is struggling. An endorsement from Sirius would put her back on the map. Hell, it might put this whole town back on the map.

Sirius is quiet for a moment after Dorcas’ disappears. He seems embarrassed about what he said earlier.

“Mind if we take a picture for Instagram? My PR agent thinks this will be good press.”

“Of course not,” Remus says, trying not to feel deflated at the change in conversation. But when Sirius pulls out his phone to take a picture of the two of them, he doesn’t take his hand off Remus’. In fact, he keeps it there for the rest of the meal.

They spend the rest of their time talking about their lives. Remus learns Sirius started playing music as an escape from his family who he doesn’t have the best relationship with. He tries hard to keep it all from going public to protect his little brother who still lives at home. Sirius learns that Remus was attacked by a rabid dog as a kid and kept doing his schoolwork in his bed at home because he couldn’t bear to fall a grade behind the other kids, despite the fact that most of them didn’t like him much.

They talk about everything. Remus talks about his friends and Sirius talks about life on the road. They share embarrassing childhood memories and awful drunken mistakes. They laugh and smile with each other and before either of them knows it the food is gone and it's getting much too late. Remus promised Dorcas she’d have the restaurant back for the dinner rush and Sirius has to be getting back to New York for a late-night talk show he’s supposed to be on.

Sirius gives Dorcas a hug and promises to plug her restaurant every chance he gets as long as she guarantees there will always be a table for him whenever he’s in town. He leaves her a very generous tip as a thank you for shutting the restaurant down for him. Remus’ could swear he sees Dorcas whisper something to Sirius that makes him smile but he can’t say for sure. She gives Remus a hug too and he reminds her to drop by for game night this weekend.

They step back outside into the warm glow of the late afternoon and both of them pause on the front steps, unsure of what to say or where to go from here.

They both go to speak at once and then pull back blushing as they both try and tell the other to go first. After some laughter, Remus finally convinces Sirius to go ahead.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Sirius says. “I haven’t felt this way in a really long time. It feels good to just be a person again for a little while.”

“And thank you for giving me my thirty seconds of fame,” Remus says. “For showing me that I deserve to be in the spotlight sometimes.”

Sirius blushes as he looks down at his feet and Remus’ stomach backflips with the idea that he can make him feel this nervous.

“Can I kiss you?” Sirius asks and suddenly his nerves become contagious.

Remus nods and Sirius steps forward to meet him. He places his hand on his hip just as he did last night, and he leans in slowly. The kiss is soft and sweet and full of meaning. If Remus were a songwriter, he could write a million ballads about this moment. About the way that it feels like Sirius was trying to translate everything he ever wanted to tell Remus’ into the movement of his lips.

When they part they’re both a little flushed and smiling, Sirius slips his aviators on as two black cars pull up. One to take Sirius back to his helicopter. The other to take Remus home, back to his ordinary life.

“Goodbye, Remus,” Sirius says as he heads to the first car.

“Bye, Sirius,” Remus tells him and he stands and watches until all that’s left of Sirius is a cloud of dust.

At home, Remus collapses on the couch. He tries to pick up a new policy he needs to read over for work but his mind can’t focus. All he can see is Sirius’ gentle smile. All he can feel is Sirius’ lips on his. All he can hear is the sound of Sirius’ voice as they stood chest to chest.

His phone buzzes beside him and Remus’ is sure it’s Lily looking for more details. He’s had to disable pretty much all his social media apps. That smiling picture of the two of them in the diner has gone viral and Remus is a little too interested to see what crazy stories the tabloids come up with about the identity of Sirius’ mystery date.

When he picks up his phone, however, he’s surprised to see it’s a message from Sirius. He’s in a hotel room somewhere and Remus’ luggage is in the background.

- Someone forgot to get this to the car that took you home. Guess we’ll have to see each other again.

Remus smiles as he types up his response.

- It’s a date

He watches nervously, waiting for Sirius’ reply hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t a simple mix up and Sirius truly does want to see him again. He doesn’t have to wait long before his phone is buzzing again in his hand.

- I can’t wait

That night Remus watches Sirius’ interview on tv, smiling as he alludes questions about his new mystery man with ease and grace. Afterwards, he goes to brush his teeth and get ready for bed when his phone buzzes again.

- Syrupy kisses in dusk’s early light I can’t shake the feeling I’ve known you all my life Dear god, please don’t let this feeling pass me by

He falls asleep that night smiling like an idiot with Moonlight playing on loop in the background.

#RSCandyHearts #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #fanfic #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #remus x sirius

43 notes · View notes

kiara-carrera · 4 years ago

Note

33 for theresa and anthony!

i just want to preface this by saying i had no ideas for this so if it sucks, whoops lol (also this gif has no correlation, but i do like imagining anthony getting jealous haha)

send me a ship and a prompt!

Standing against the back of the ballroom, she truly wished she could just camouflage herself against the gilded walls. It was all Theresa could do to keep herself calm, wishing she could just fade away as the music transitioned into the next waltz.

She was fairly certain she had promised some gentleman one of her upcoming dances, a name hastily scrawled across the card dangling from her wrist, but that was long forgotten as she tried to control herself.

“Do not cry, do not cry,” she mumbled to herself, hastily dabbing a building tear from the corner of her eye with a flourish. She wished she’d brought a fan tonight, at least then she could try to look coy and mysterious while she tried not to make a fool of herself in front of the whole ton.

She could see Whistledown’s latest sheet the following Wednesday. Miss Ramsford attempts to make a river of tears in the corner of Lord Hampshire’s ball.

It would make a far better headline than the ones that normally ran about her. Theresa had managed to stay out of Whistledown’s publications the best she could, avoided scandal and was usually only ever mentioned in passing, but those passings always tended to slip in how long she had been on the shelf.

It was no secret within London that Theresa Ramsford was, by all accounts, something of a spinster. Debuting at twenty was flirting with misfortune. Twenty-three, though, and she might have been better off asking the musicians to lead her in with a death march on every occasion.

She was spoiled goods, at best. No one wanted the twenty-three year old still riddled with grief over losing their sibling when there were younger, prettier girls who would make the good, quiet wives they desired.

She knew what people said about her, knew that people spoke in hushed whispers about how it was going to be hard for her to find a husband. Twenty-three was practically ancient to the people of the ton and Theresa’s minimal number of callers was proof of that.

But no one, besides Whistledown’s cutting remarks on paper, ever actually said it to her face. At least not until tonight

Cressida Cowper was known for being a lot of things, but a mean spirited wench might have been at the top of the list as far as Theresa was concerned. A little tiff had broken out between Theresa and the younger girl, something about Cressida’s antagonizations of Daphne, and Cressida had done what she did best: take someone’s deeply ingrained insecurities and thrown them right back in her face.

Theresa had done well to save face publicly in front of Cressida. She was not about to allow that arrogant little brat to see how she affected her. But now she was resigned to a corner, for what was probably the rest of the night, and all she wanted to do was to be alone.

A body slid in beside her against the wall and let out a little huff of air. Theresa stiffened, brushing one of the curls framing her face out of her gaze. It only took her a second to recognize the dark haired man standing next to her before she began rapidly blinking to stop to rise of tears.

Theresa wished the floor would swallow her whole, to be quite honest. Out of all the Bridgerton men here tonight (which was all of them), it just had to be Anthony who would join her in solitude. Normally, it was Benedict or Colin who would join her when she retreated to the edges of the ballrooms, as Anthony normally wouldn’t join her alone. He seemed to be all too oblivious and yet all too aware of her feelings for him all at once.

Anthony paid her no mind at first, taking a sip of his drink as he began discussing his woes of the night. “I believe the mamas have become agitated tonight, swarming around like a lot of — Theresa, are you alright?”

Yes, melting into the floor seemed like a good alternative.

She gave him a slight nod of the head, doing her best to act like Cressida Cowper hadn’t just destroyed her entire night. “I’m quite alright, thank you asking.”

He gave her a look that was told her that he was unimpressed with her lie. “Should you not be off dancing?” he questioned, a hand tossed in the direction of the dance floor where the majority of eligible ladies, as well as his own siblings, were spinning with their various partners.

Theresa bit out a rather unladylike laugh. “Yes, because everyone is dying for a dance with the grieving spinster.”

“Did someone say that to you?” Anthony questioned, tone and gaze suddenly hardened, serious. He looked personally offended by the statement.

She had intended to not discuss this with anyone, let alone him, but she could not help herself. Theresa had been holding all of this in for weeks. “Do I start that list with Whistledown? Or perhaps all the people who talk behind my back?”

“They are wrong about you, you must know that,” he told her sternly, the same sort of tone she had seen him scold his siblings with. “Any gentleman here tonight would be lucky to have you on their arm and if they cannot see it, then that is their issue.”

Theresa gave a weak smile. Any man would be lucky, yes.

But not just any man was the one she wanted.

#asks #angst/fluff prompts #antheresa #this isn't very good #but i was trying not to make him super ooc #and i haven't finished his book yet #kayla tag

5 notes · View notes

soobiniebaby · 4 years ago

Text

Angels & Devils Part X : Secrets of the World

A n g e l s & D e v i l s || Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

The past week has felt surprisingly lonely for Hueningkai since B hadn’t been around. He had enjoyed being at MOA even before B transferred there, but once he got to experience how fun it was to have her at school with him, school just didn’t feel the same.

School had become a bit hectic in the past few days since more students started to show up with chicken pox, so the school started taking drastic measures to minimize the spread of the virus, keeping temperature checks at every entrance and barring students with symptoms from stepping foot on campus. They’ve also encouraged students to wear face masks, minimize physical contact, and always have hand sanitizer or alcohol on hand and to keep check of their immunization records to see which students were susceptible to the disease. Kai himself had been strictly following the newly implemented guidelines, especially since he was a member of the student council, and things were going fine until he woke up with spots on his arms earlier that day.

He immediately locked himself in his bedroom and called up their family doctor to do a quick check up before they deduced that he did indeed have the chicken pox, and that he’d have to keep himself locked up since neither of his sisters have had it before. He was ready to keep himself holed up in his room for the whole week until the guys gave him a great idea.

And now here he was, sitting in B’s living room after she had made sure there were fresh sheets in her extra bedroom and after he had unpacked his clothes and things for the week. He had told her basically everything about the past week except for one tiny detail.

“Hey, Baba, can you sit with me for a minute? There’s something I have to tell you.” he says suddenly, patting the cushion beside him on the couch.

B nervously takes a deep breath before turning to face him. “Yeah, sure.” she says, plastering on a smile and taking a seat. “What is it?”

“Well, now that I’ve told you all about my week, there’s something I feel like I need to ask you.” he says, looking directly at her.

“Okay, ask me anything.” she says, twiddling her thumbs together anxiously. Was it about Yeonjun?

Kai takes a deep breath before taking one of her hands in his and asking, “What would you say if I told you that…”

“That…?”

“That I like someone, and I’d like to ask them out?”

B blinks in surprise. “Oh, uh, I’d say that it’s great? Is there someone that you like? Someone you want to ask out?”

Kai nods. “There is, and I thought I’d ask you first since you know her.”

“I do? Oh, who is it? Is it someone I like?” B asks, surprised.

“Yeah, she’s one of your friends actually.” Kai begins, rubbing the back of his neck as he starts to get shy. “It’s Yuna.”

B claps her hands together and lets out a whoop. “Yes! Oh my god, yes. You 2 are perfect together! Yuna is so sweet and bubbly, and you’re so bright and full of cheer and the 2 of you together will just be like a burst of sunshine.” she says excitedly.

“So you approve? You’d be okay with me maybe asking her out soon?” Kai asks, smiling brightly now.

“Yes, definitely yes!” B says. “Wow, this is great. How did this happen? Have you been talking to her lately? Do you share any classes together?”

Kai nods. “Yeah, we’ve texted a couple of times ever since you dared me to get her number at the party.” he says. “We share a couple of classes together, and I always smile and wave at her when I pass by her at the hall. She’s…cute.” he admits, his cheeks going pink.

“Aw, Ningning, that’s so cute!” B says, resting a hand over her heart. She felt like it was melting from how adorably smitten her bestfriend was. “When are you planning on asking her out?”

“Soon, hopefully. I was thinking of dipping out of Art club to ask her out today, but I woke up with chicken pox, so that’s definitely out of the question. I mean, I could still ask her out through text, but I thought it would be better to do it in person.” he explains.

B nods in agreement. “Yes, definitely better in person. That way, you can see her reaction. Whether she’ll blush bright red or if she’ll be nervous, it would be better than just texting her.” she says.

Kai nods in agreement. Now that B felt more at ease, knowing that Kai had told her he wanted to ask someone out, she decided it would be a good time to ease the whole Yeonjun thing into the conversation. She shot Yeonjun a quick text, letting him know that Kai had arrived at her apartment, before turning to her best friend.

“Now, it’s my turn to ask you something.” she says suddenly, sitting up straight and staring at him intently.

Kai nods curiously. “Alright, sure, what is it?”

“Well, what would you say if I told you that I like someone?” B starts slowly.

“Well, that depends, who do you like?” Kai asks.

“I said if I told you that I like someone.” B says defensively. “So just because I’m asking you about it doesn’t necessarily mean that I actually do like anyone.”

Kai smirks knowingly. “Mhm, okay, whatever you say. So, hypothetically, who would it be?”

B takes a deep breath before saying “Yeonjun?” her voice coming out as barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry, did you say Yeonjun?” Kai says, shocked. “You like Yeonjun? Yeonjun? Like, our Yeonjun? Choi Yeonjun?”

“Shush! And yes, of course that Yeonjun, what other Yeonjun would there be?” B says exasperatedly, whacking Kai’s arm.

And now for the moment of truth. B could feel her heart pounding as there’s a moment of silence between them, Kai processing what he just heard. B was worried about how he’d react. Would he be upset? Would he get angry? Would he disapprove?

Turns out, Kai did none of the above. Instead, he suddenly bursts out laughing, which catches B completely by surprise.

She lets him let it out for a while, his annoyingly endearing dolphin laughter ringing all throughout the apartment, with quick gasps of breaths and “Yeonjun? Our Yeonjun?” in between laughter. She waits for his laughter to die down and for him to catch his breath before continuing.

“Okay, what in the actual heck was that for?” she huffs, folding her arms across her chest, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, Baba. Sweet, clueless, purely innocent, Baba.” he says, patting the top of her head. “Okay, no offense, but Yeonjun is sort of…out of your league.”

“What?” B shrieks, shoving Kai’s hand away. “Okay, no offense, but what do you mean?” she says, mimicking him.

Kai laughs at how childish she was being. “It’s just that he’s Choi Yeonjun! Yes, to us he’s just Yeonjun. But to everyone else he’s the Choi Yeonjun, student council secretary, leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy, filthy rich and next in line to take over CEO of YJ Choi Corporation. He’s basically the most eligible bachelor in the town, heck maybe even in the whole country!” he exclaims. “So with a reputation like that, I think you can imagine the kind of girls he would date.”

“Yeah, okay, so he’s intimidatingly out of my league.” B admits, just now realizing how powerful Yeonjun really was. “But it’s not like I’m the ugliest, stinkiest, most uncatchable fish in the sea!” she exclaims. “Besides, what kind of girls would he date?”

“Baba, don’t get me wrong, you’re great and I love you but you’re not exactly Yeonjun’s type.” Kai says comfortingly. “Yes, you’re cute. Heck, you’re pretty to a certain extent. I’d say you’re above average, and when your family background is taken into consideration, you’d certainly be a good catch to the average citizen. But Yeonjun…” he pauses, trying to choose his words carefully. “Well, he’s Choi Yeonjun. He’s the biggest catch in the sea. And for the past couple of years I’ve known him, the kind of girls he goes out with are always the stunningly beautiful and elegant girls around MOA. And as much as I love you, you just aren’t that kind of girl.”

B pouts. “Yes I am! I can be that kind of girl! I can be stunningly beautiful and elegant.” she pouts, although she knew that deep down, her best friend was right. It wasn’t like she had low esteem, she knew she had looks and smarts and wits, but she knew that she wasn’t the kind of girl who could walk around with a bare face looking like a model.

“Baba, I love you, but come on.” Kai says. “I’m just saying, you’re just so not his type.”

“Oh yeah?” B huffs. “If I’m so not his type, then how come he’s asked me out twice already?”

As Kai’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops, B immediately covers her mouth, realizing what she just let slip out.

“What!” Kai practically screams. “He asked you out? Yeonjun asked you out? Yeonjun asked you out twice?” he says, trying to wrap his head around the idea. “And what did you say?”

“He asked me out the first time at the party and then the second time the day after.” B says slowly. “I said no.” B mumbles.

“You said no? To Yeonjun? You rejected Yeonjun? You rejected Yeonjun twice?” he says.

B nods but then she lets out a small sigh. “Actually, I wasn’t able to respond the first time since our 7 minutes were up. And then yes, I said no. But then I said yes, when he asked me out again last Friday.”

“He asked you out again? Wait so he asked you out thrice? And you said yes?” Kai screeches. “And it happened last Friday?!”

B nods slowly. “Yes, yes, and yes?” she says.

“Baba!” he cries. ��Why didn’t you tell me? I need to know everything. Now!” he demands.

And so, reluctantly, she does. From the 7 minutes she shared with Yeonjun at the party to how he lead her back to the shed and asked her out again the next day, to how he had winked at her as he performed onstage and how she had made it a point to avoid him since then, to how she had fainted in the hallway and how he had brought her home and taken care of her to how they talked things out until they came to a conclusion. “Then he kissed me, and that’s when I said yes.” she finishes. “And he’s been coming over and sweeping me off my feet almost everyday since then, except on Monday when Ryujin came for a quick visit.” she adds.

Kai makes a face. “Eugh, I do not want to picture you and Yeonjun kissing. I don’t want to picture you and anyone kissing, really, it’s just disgusting.” he says, shuddering. “But, um, wow. So you and Yeonjun, huh? I didn’t see that coming. I guess that’s why you were acting kinda weird during those days after the party? You were avoiding Yeonjun?” he asks, his mind putting the pieces together.

B nods. “Yup. I was avoiding him, which was stupid, but hey here we are now. Dating.” she says, shrugging. “And now that I know I’m not his type, I’m really not sure why he asked me out so persistently.”

“Well, I mean, you aren’t ugly.” Kai says. “Maybe you actually are stunningly beautiful? I dunno. I’m your best friend. To me, you’re just kind of meh.” he says teasingly. “I have to admit though, if you were ever to end up dating one of the guys, I wouldn’t have expected you and Yeonjun to end up together.”

“What do you mean?” she asks suspiciously, her brows pulled together.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise.” he says, laughing as he puts his hands up defensively. “It’s just that I never imagined you and Yeonjun to end up dating or anything. If there was one person in our group I thought you’d ever end up with, I always thought it would’ve been Soobin.”

“Soobin?” B asks, perplexed. “Why?”

“Because I know you.” he starts. “I’ve known you for years, and I know the kind of guys you like and the type of guys you crush on, and honestly, Soobin seemed to fit into the category. Plus, I know Soobin. And knowing him, you seem to be the kind of girl he’d like as well. Also, there’s the fact that you told me you have a crush on him before we left your apartment on the day of the party, remember?”

“You know I made that up just so you’d let it go, right?” B says pointedly. “And what do you mean about Soobin being my type? And me being his type?”

Kai shrugs. “Soobin is nice, sweet, charms the socks out of everyone around him, and he’s an all-around good guy. And you, you just seem to be the type of girls that he used to go for in the past. He likes bright and lively girls, like you. Just thought you 2 had chemistry.” he explains simply. “Guess I was wrong, though. I haven’t seen what you and Yeonjun are like together, but I’m happy for you, Baba. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” he finishes sincerely.

“Thanks, Ningning.” she says, leaning in to pull him in for a quick hug, though an uneasy was starting to settle in her stomach upon hearing his opinion on her dating life. “Promise me that you won’t tell anyone else about this for now, alright? Not until Yeonjun and I decide what to do next.”

Kai nods. “I’m bad at keeping secrets, but I promise I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Thanks, Ningning. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Yeonjun and I sort of agreed not to tell anyone at first, we kinda wanted to see how things would go first.” she says, hugging him again.

“It’s alright, Baba. Thanks for telling me, anyway.” Kai says, hugging her back. “I have to admit, this conversation had me so surprised that I forgot about these itchy spots for a moment.”

“Eugh, thank god I’m done with that.” B says, immediately pulling away. “So how are you feeling? Are you feverish? Do you want me to ask my doctor to come by to check up on you everyday?” she asks, examining his spots.

“Nah, I’m good. My doctor said I should be fine as long as I keep my body temperature in check and I avoid scratching myself. He’ll be checking up on me after 5 days to see if I can be medically cleared to go back to school.” Kai says, rubbing his arms. “These pox are a bitch, though. I’m itching all over.”

B slaps his hands away, stopping him from scratching himself. “Looks like it’ll be just you and me for the next 5 days.”

“Oh, really? Won’t Yeonjun be coming over? I thought he’s been visiting everyday.” Kai says.

“He already texted me to tell me that our date for today would be cancelled, and I guess now I know why.” she says, looking at him pointedly. “I mean, he can still come over to visit since he’s immune, but it wouldn’t bother me if he didn’t. I’ve missed you.” B says, ruffling her best friend’s hair. “We haven’t talked like this in what feels like forever. We’ve got the whole weekend to hang around, watch movies, and play around like we used to when we were younger.”

“Oh right, you’ve been cleared to go back to school on Monday.” Kai says, pouting a bit. “Wow, how did you survive being stuck at home all week? Just thinking about it makes me feel like I’ll die out of boredom.” he says, sighing sadly.

“Hey, I didn’t just bum around the whole week. I was on my phone everyday, listening in on lectures and taking notes of my own so I wouldn’t fall too far behind on classes. I suggest you do the same.” B says.

Kai lets out a huff. “Eh, sounds boring, but we’ll see.”

Meanwhile, at MOA, the 4 boys eating lunch together were starting to realize just how different things were now that two of their regular companions were absent.

“Is it just me or do things feel kinda…weird.” Beomgyu asks, as the boys sit in surprising silence, their lunches laid out on the table in front of them, the gentle wind blowing the flowers and vines around the gazebo.

Taehyun nods. “I get what you mean. This whole chicken pox outbreak has made things around here complicated.” he said, completely missing Beomgyu’s point yet making an entirely valid one. “All these sudden health regulations are so difficult, and being a student council member gives no excuses not to follow them since we have to set an example for the rest of the student body.”

He had a point. Thanks to the chicken pox, every student was now required to wear a face mask at all times, except during mealtimes. Not only that, but physical contact was highly discouraged, students were required to send in copies of their immunization records to the school clinic, and every room and entrance on campus now had staff spraying everyone who passed by with alcohol on their hands. The protocols would be in place for a whole week, until a decline in cases would start to show.

“Well yeah, the protocols are pretty sudden and stressful and the whole chicken pox outbreak is making everyone a bit paranoid, but that��s not what I meant.” Beomgyu said, patting Taehyun’s arm. “I mean, you’re definitely right. But I meant that things feel weird without Hyuka and B around.”

Taehyun nods. “Ah yes, I really miss B. It feels a bit lonely to walk by myself to school now, though I used to do it everyday. It’s strange, I never realized how much her absence would affect me.” he says, pondering about how different things felt without her.

Soobin nods, then catches himself. “Don’t you miss Hyuka too, Tyun?” he says, changing the topic. It made him uncomfortable, hearing how Taehyun’s words hit him. It was hard for Soobin to admit it, but B’s absence had bothered him more than he thought it would. And now that Kai was absent as well, Soobin was starting to feel a bit lonelier.

Taehyun shrugs. “I mean we just saw him yesterday, but yes, I have to admit that not having him here feels strange as well.”

“I miss them.” Beomgyu simply says. “Do you think Hyuka took your advice and went over to B’s house?”

“I hope so, it seemed like the most logical option for everyone involved.” Taehyun responds.

“Yeah, he did, she said Kai arrived earlier.” Yeonjun says absentmindedly, scrolling through his phone.

“Oh, she texted you?” Taehyun says curiously. “That’s strange, she hasn’t texted me all week. I mean, she calls me everyday but we don’t really talk because she just listens in on our lectures. Maybe I should send her a message too, to check up on how she’s doing.”

Realizing that he had just let something slip, Yeonjun puts his phone down, subtly kicking Beomgyu under the table, hoping he’d say something to help him out.

“Oh yeah you definitely should! I’ve been texting her too.” Beomgyu says suddenly, jerking in his seat, trying to come up with anything to deflect the conversation from Yeonjun’s slip up. “She, uh, she says she misses us and that she can’t wait to go back to school.” he says sheepishly, lying through his teeth.

“Tell her we miss her too.” Soobin says, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“You should tell her yourself. I mean, I know we all miss her, but I think it would be better if she hears it from each of us.” Beomgyu says, further leading the conversation.

The boys sit in silence once again as they focus on consuming their food, picking up their phones as well.

Soobin and Taehyun take Beomgyu’s advice and shoot B some messages. Beomgyu texts her as well, to make up for lying to the guys about it.

As their lunch break comes to an end, Yeonjun speaks up. “We should probably get going, it’s our first club day with these implemented health protocols, I’m sure the administrators will want all club officers to assist in making sure that people follow the guidelines and restrictions.”

The boys all agree and pack up their bags, ready to head to their respective clubs.

Yeonjun turns to Beomgyu and says “Hey Gyu, I think I left something in my car, wanna walk with me?”

Beomgyu nods. “Sure thing YJ, lead the way.” And the 2 boys wander off, leaving Taehyun and Soobin to walk back to the building together.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there, I thought Taehyun would’ve caught on. He’s pretty intuitive.” Yeonjun says, bumping his fist against Beomgyu’s.

“No problem. I’m guessing you were texting her right at that moment? Try to be more careful. Or better yet, just tell the other guys about it already.” Beomgyu responds.

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I’m not sure if Baby and I are ready to take this thing public yet. We’ve only gone on a few dates, and we haven’t even talked about where this might lead to. Besides, things between us are so good right now, and letting other people know about it might change that.” he reasons out. “She and I will have to talk about things first, so until then, promise me that you won’t tell anyone about it?”

Beomgyu sighs. “Fine, but as cute as it is to see you so happy and blushy, the 2 of you better sort this out soon. I don’t like having to keep secrets.” he says, shuddering slightly. “But really though, how are things between you 2? Do you see it going anywhere?”

Yeonjun smiles to himself. “I really like her, Gyu. I really really like her.”

“So what are you gonna do you about it?” Beomgyu asks curiously. “Where do you see things going between you?”

“I’m gonna ask her to be mine.” Yeonjun asks. “Not yet, but soon. I think this could be the start of something great. I feel like I’m falling more and more for her each day, and I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.”

Yeonjun stops walking for a moment, looking at Beomgyu as if he had just realized something. “I think I might love her, Gyu.”

Beomgyu stops as well, staring at the blue haired boy. “Are you sure? Remember what happened the last time you fell in love?” he asks, reminding Yeonjun of the only real relationship he’s ever had, and how bad things ended and how heartbroken he was at the end of it all, and how he’s struggled to find anyone he’d want to develop a real connection with since then.

Once upon a time, Yeonjun had fallen in love. Her name was Rose, and she was a student from another school within the district. She had fiery red hair and an even more fiery personality, which was probably what drew him to her in the first place. Being with her was exciting, and Yeonjun liked the feeling of being kept on his toes, not knowing what to expect next. He fell for her hard, without stopping to think that maybe she wasn’t someone worth loving. He liked that she was confident and knew what she wanted out of life, he liked that she was experienced and knew just what to do to make him tick. She played him like a fiddle, and he happily obliged, showering her with affection and spoiling her with everything she wanted. It was only when he found out that she was cheating on him did he realize that she was just using him. In the end, he was left drained, exhausted, and closed off to the idea of falling so recklessly in love again. 3 years later and he still struggled to make any emotional connections with people of the opposite gender.

Yeonjun shakes his head. “Fuck that, dude. This is different. She’s different.” he says, with B on his mind.

B and her long dark hair, her warm pink skin, the soft freckles splattered across her cheeks, her small fragile hands, the gentle dip at the curve of her waist. B and the way her laugh rang through his mind, how the gentlest of her touches could leave him feeling breathless, how her smile was permanently etched into his memory, and how the way she looked at him made him wish he was something worth looking at. How she made him want to be more.

“I know she is. I mean, one, I actually really like her. Whereas Rose was a dirty lying cheat, B is pretty damn cool.” Beomgyu says. “And two, she’s a genuinely good person who I’m sure likes you for more than just your dad’s money.”

Yeonjun nods. “So you see my point.”

Beomgyu nods back, then smiles. “Damn, maybe this should be the headline for this month’s issue of the school paper! Choi Yeonjun: in love.”

“Oh shut up. If you ever print anything about me, I’m ready to sue, Mr. Editor and Chief.” Yeonjun says, playfully shoving Beomgyu’s arm.

Beomgyu laughs, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders as they continue to walk across the campus. “Don’t worry, I’ve got better things to publish than your love life.”

“Thanks for keeping this a secret, BG.” Yeonjun says.

Beomgyu sighs in response. “No problem, but I gotta admit that I don’t like keeping secrets from the rest of the guys. Keeping things from each other might complicate things.”

Yeonjun shrugs. “Complicate what things? I don’t see how things could possibly go wrong.” he says nonchalantly.

meanwhile

“It’s weird how different things feel without B around, huh?” Taehyun says casually as he and Soobin make their way across the campus. “I honestly didn’t think I’d miss her this much. It’s strange, don’t you think? Do you miss her too? Or is it just me?”

Soobin shakes his head. “Nah, me? Why would I miss her? She’s just a friend. Things don’t feel weird at all.”

Which were all lies. For Soobin, everything without B felt weird. He never realized how much of an impact she had left on him until he started to wake up the past few days knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing her at school and then suddenly his day would feel a little less chipper and a little more dull. He never noticed how important she had become to him until he no longer had to save a seat next to him at the gazebo during lunch in the hopes that she would sit next to him. He never knew how much he enjoyed her presence until he walked into their Creative Writing class and his eyes didn’t automatically search for hers in the crowd because he knew he wouldn’t find them.

It was just now hitting him how much he actually missed her.

He missed waking up in the morning knowing that he’d get to her see her and starting his day off excited, whistling to himself as he got out of bed. He missed walking to the gazebo for lunch and thinking about which of his packed snacks he could share with her, saving the seat next to him in the hopes that she’d choose to sit beside him. He missed looking forward to the last period for the day and walking into the classroom with his eyes meeting hers, which would automatically be followed by the big smile and wave she’d give whenever she saw him walk in, and how she’d pat the chair beside her so he could sit next to her.

Which all confused him. He had been studying at MOA for the past 4 years, and yet he had never felt this sense of longing just because of one person’s absence. What’s worse is he didn’t realize how much he’d miss her until she was gone.

Was it possible that he had feelings for her?

“Why do you even miss her so much? Do you like her or something?” Soobin says teasingly, trying to deflect his own thoughts.

Taehyun raises a brow. “I like her, but not in the way you mean.” he responds factually. “I just miss having her around. Just because you miss someone, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you have feelings for them, you know.”

There’s a beat of silence before Soobin carefully asks. “So how would you know that you have feelings for someone then? Doesn’t the feeling of wishing they were around and stuff mean that you like them?” he asks, trying to untangle his thoughts and make sense of his feelings.

Taehyun thinks about it for a moment. “It could? Wishing that someone were with you when they’re not around could mean that you have feelings for them.”

“So missing someone like that means that you like them?” Soobin asks.

“Maybe. Personally, I think it’s more than that though. It’s the way they make you feel. For example, when I’m with the person I like, I feel incomparable happiness, like I wouldn’t trade their existence for anything else in the world. Just the thought of seeing them gets me excited to start my day. I look for them everywhere I go, and I can spot them from a mile away, as if my eyes can automatically zero in on that one person. Even when I don’t see them, everything around me seems to remind me of them. I feel comfortable, like I can be myself around them.” Taehyun says thoughtfully.

“Oh, Tyun, I didn’t know that you like someone.” Soobin says, surprised. “It sounds like you love her a lot. You were able to express your feelings so well.”

Taehyun smiles wistfully. “Yeah, I guess I really do. This person’s been on my mind for quite a while now, and I’ve learned to come to terms with how they make me feel. That’s how I’m able to express it so well, I’ve been dealing with these feelings for more than a year now.”

Soobin’s jaw drops. “You’ve been in love for over a year? Have you told this person about how you feel?”

The other boy simply shakes his head. “No, I can’t, cause I know they’ll never feel the same way about me. I’d rather do the logical thing and keep my feelings to myself instead.”

“You always choose you head over your heart, Tyun.” Soobin says. “Why not try listening to your heart for once? Have you ever confessed your feelings for anyone before? We’ve been friends for a while now, but honestly I feel like I don’t know much about your love life. It seems like one of the last things that would be on your mind.”

“Ah, Soobin. I don’t like expressing these feelings cause I know they won’t amount to anything. Why are you asking me these things anyway? Are you in love with anyone?” Taehyun says dismissively, flipping the conversation over.

“You’re so pessimistic.” Soobin says sourly.

Taehyun shrugs. “You say pessimistic, I say realistic. Now tell me, do you have feelings for anyone?” he says pointedly. “You seem to be really interested in the topic.”

“I’m not really sure. I mean, there’s this girl, and I think she’s great and all, but I don’t know if these feelings mean anything. You know I had a girlfriend before, right? Remember last year, when Lia and I were a thing?”

“Oh yeah, you and Lia were cute together. See, since you’ve been in a relationship before, you should know what it feels like to like someone.” Taehyun says.

Soobin nods. “Yes, but the problem is Lia confessed to me first. When she confessed, it’s not like I had any strong feelings for her or anything, I just thought that she was pretty and nice to talk to, so I told her I liked her back and I asked her out. But now, I’m feeling these things, and it just feels so different from what I felt when Lia and I were together.”

“I guess you didn’t really love Lia, then?” Taehyun says, and Soobin shrugs in response.

“I definitely had feelings for her, but I broke up with her after a while cause I just didn’t see our relationship going anywhere.” Soobin admits.

“Look, I’m sure you liked her, but it’s different to love someone.” Taehyun says. “Because when you love someone, you just know it.”

“But how? How do you know?” Soobin asks confused, desperate to untangle his feelings.

“You just do. It might hit you at one certain moment, when you see this person and your heart starts to beat twice the normal rate and you think to yourself ‘oh wow, I love this person.’ Or you could just wake up one day feeling more, and then it would hit you just like that.” Taehyun says. “It could hit you out of nowhere like a truck, or it could come to you slowly and then all at once. But however it goes, one day you’ll just know.”

“One day, I guess.” Soobin says. He couldn’t imagine waking up one day and feeling completely different about someone, or looking at someone and suddenly being hit with the realization that he was in love with them. Or her. Or B, to be exact.

His cheeks went pink just thinking of it. “Well, I don’t think I’m in love with her just yet. Thanks for the talk, though. It was very interesting, and you made a lot of good points.” he says as they approach the stairs leading up to their club rooms.

Taehyun nods and claps the older boy on the back. “No problem, Soobin. Whoever she is, I’m sure you’ll figure things out soon. And if you ever do wake up one day and realize you’re in love, she’d be stupid not to love you back.”

Soobin smiles at him warmly. “Thanks, Tyun. I hope I figure it out soon. Oh, one last thing.” he says, suddenly stopping in his tracks.

“Yes? What is it?” Taehyun asks.

“Do you mind if we keep this conversation between the 2 of us? I’m just…” Soobin pauses, fumbling with his words. “I’d rather no else knew about this for now.”

Taehyun laughs kindly. “Don’t worry, I promise it will be like we never had this conversation. I’d also prefer it if you don’t tell anyone else about my crush, I’m pretty sure you’re the first person I’ve told about it.”

Soobin nods. “Of course! You can count on me, my lips are sealed.” he says, making a zipping motion across his mouth, which causes Taehyun to laugh. “See you later, Tyun.”

Taehyun waves and watches as Soobin disappears into the Ecosave club room, greeting the other officers of the club and reminding them about the implementation of health protocols.

Taehyun shakes his head before turning away and continuing down the hall to his own club room, preparing himself as president of the Debate Club to brief his officers and members about the health protocols. He found it adorable that his friend whom had never really been in love before was so obliviously in love now without even knowing it. He knew that Soobin was a smart guy, but he didn’t know that he could be so clueless about his own feelings. Taehyun always thought that his friend would be a little more emotionally self-aware, but he was wrong. He could tell that Soobin’s thoughts were all over the place, and he hoped that their little talk would at least help him figure out his own feelings.

He almost felt bad for Soobin, but he was amused and was looking forward to seeing how Soobin’s little crush would play out. Anyone would be lucky to date a guy like Soobin. Whoever this girl was, he could tell that Soobin had it bad. He just hoped that it was someone who could love him back.

•°•

“Baba?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

B shifts on the couch, turning over so she could come face to face with Kai. “Alright, what is it this time? You want advice on how to ask Yuna out or something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” he says, his cheeks suddenly turning pink. “I wanted to ask you something about Yeonjun.”

“Oh, what about Yeonjun?” she asks, curious.

“Well, I was just wondering, why Yeonjun?” Kai asks thoughtfully. “I honestly never pegged him as your type of guy. Your past crushes have always been the academically smart, sweet, caring types and Yeonjun’s more on the work hard play harder, cool, chill, borderline fuckboy types? So what made you like him?”

“Ah, he may not be the smartest or the most academically focused guy, but he’s definitely sweet and caring. And while many people may see him as cool and distant and maybe even a bit of a flirt, but there’s so much more to him than that.” B starts carefully. “He’s just so…amazing. When I first met him, I honestly never thought we’d end up where we are now. It’s like he’s a completely different person, like there’s a completely different side to him that I’ve been privileged enough to see.”

“Sounds like someone’s in love.” Kai sings teasingly, trying to hide his disdain at her answer. Maybe he was being overprotective, but he only wanted to make sure that his best friend wouldn’t get hurt. Judging by her answer, it sounded like she was smitten simply because of the things Yeonjun did to sweep her off her feet. She was too focused on one side of Yeonjun that she was blinded to all his other sides, which didn’t sound good to Kai. “But really, do you think you might be?”

“In love?” she clarifies. She stops for a moment to think about, meanwhile the same 3 words continuously run through his mind: please say no, please say no, please say—

“I don’t know. I don’t think so?” B says, a bright smile on her face. “I mean, it’s only been a week since we started going out, so it’s too early to tell, right?”

Kai laughs along. “Right, it does sound a bit unrealistic to fall in love with someone over a week.”

“True, but at the same time, I feel like my life has changed so much in the past week, and it’s all because of him. It was like a montage out of a romance movie or something, you know?” she says with stars in her eyes, and it was at that moment when Kai realized that he couldn’t change his best friend’s mind, even if he tried. She was falling hard.

“That sounds great, Baba!” he smiles, not knowing what else he could say. “I’m happy for you.” And it wasn’t a lie, he really was happy that she seemed happy. He was just worried that she was rushing into it all. He knew her, he knew how careful she was and how she usually thought things over at least 10 times before making a decision, but the girl he was talking to now, who had stars in her eyes and a lovesick smile felt almost alien to him.

He desperately wanted to tell her to be careful and to keep her guard up, but he didn’t want to ruin her happiness. Instead, he simply said “It’s nice to see you happy like this. I haven’t seen you crush so hard on a guy since we were in the 3rd grade and you were going absolutely feral for that one guy in our math class.”

B laughs at the memory. “Oh god, Park Jisung, I remember him! He was the top student in our batch, I think that’s why I liked him so much. I was crushing hard.”

“Not as hard as you’re crushing on Yeonjun now, I’m guessing?” Kai asks. He wanted to know just how far his best friend had already fallen.

B shakes his head. “I’m falling pretty hard, Ningning. I’ve never felt like this before.”

And there it was. The answer he’d been dreading.

He plasters on a smile. “Not too hard, I hope.” he says weakly.

“Psh, yeah, don’t worry about me Ningning. I’ve got this all under control.” she says, laughing it off.

He laughs too. “Of course. I’m not worried. Not at all.” he says. And those were all lies.

Because he knew that no matter what she said, no matter how much he liked Yeonjun and no matter how happy she looked now, he’d always worry about his best friend.

12 notes · View notes

scattered--pages · 5 years ago

Note

For the lukanette lyric prompt." Stop there and let me correct it. I wanna live a life from a new perspective" because I love panic! at the disco and I'll make everyone else love them too. Also this is a cute lyric I love 💘

Thank you so much for this one and I’m sorry this took ages! Work and uni were hectic as hell suddenly and then I got sick so this took forever, but it’s finally here! ♡ I mainly used the way I understood the song and kind of a sudden fierce need to change the usual and the casual in a relationship with someone to something finally as serious and stable as they’re craving it to be, mixed with how a person just wants to relax and throw all their cares and everything everyone else might be thinking about them away and just have fun with the person they trust and love the most , so I hope it worked out how you expected it to in the end? ♡ It’s filled with fluff and Lukanette being happy and in love and in that recently-finally-officially-started-dating phase so I’m also hoping you’ll like it anyway, let me know how you feel about it ♡

Send me a lyrical prompt for a Lukanette fic ! ♡

______________________________________________________

I wanna live a life from a new perspective

Words: 4647 pfff this used to be a ‘drabble or a ficlet’ prompt request whoops

Rating: Teen +

AO3 link: here ♡

______________________________________________________

Marinette giggled slightly, leaned against Luka’s coat, her arms holding onto him firmly as the chilly winter air whipped against her face in the way that was just strong enough to be refreshing and invigorating in this sunny winter’s morning.

“Hm?”, Marinette more felt rather than heard Luka through the vibration against his back as it was unfortunately incredibly difficult to talk to your motorcycle driver both due to the wind, helmets and the fact that it’s not very good to turn your head to talk to someone while you’re rushing down the road 100 km/h. When he’s alone, Luka, even though he’s very careful about laws and regulations, did like to try and practice a stunt or two ever since he was able to pass his A1 driver’s license for a moto légère and finally legally drive a motorcycle he’s been saving for since ages now, and even though she knew he was too careful of a person to do anything stupid, Marinette still disapproved of him doing any out-of-the-ordinary stunts whatsoever on a vehicle realistically far more dangerous than a car and she was very grateful that, until he’s eighteen, he isn’t eligible to drive a bike faster stronger than this one and faster than 110 km/h.

However when she was riding with him, she actually didn’t have to worry at all. Luka was a picture perfect example of caution and precision in his driving, making it very clear that, with her there, he wasn’t risking anything even remotely bad happening, adamant on not allowing anything from her not actually getting hurt but just feeling a slight discomfort because of sudden turns or bumps, to far, far more horrible options he didn’t even want to think about. Turning his head, even ever so slightly so she could hear him through their helmets, was one of those things he would not do, which was fine on smaller routes, but excruciating today, of all days. Because they’ve been driving for almost forty minutes now and the endpoint was a surprise he was planning for their two months dating anniversary. And Marinette was a responsible, calm, understanding young woman.

Patient and immune to insanity-inducing curiosity, however - she was not.

“I gave up on trying to get clues out of you about”, she shouted through the glass of her helmet loud enough so he could hear the teasing tone in her voice before it grew a bit more warm and sensitive, “I was thinking of something different now… Almost a year and a half ago, I was riding behind you on a much slower bike and you had just told me that you were almost finished with your song for me…”, Luka couldn’t turn around but she could almost swear that he was smiling right now and, for the lack of being able to do anything else, he very gently nudged his helmet against hers in a way that made her chuckle. “You know if we were already there, you could have even kissed me right now, but instead, you must suffer, I must suffer in my ignorance of any details about today, it’s all rather tragic…”, the teasing tone was back and she could feel him sigh, followed by what she recognized was a chuckle, sending warm shivers down her spine and brightening her smile even more. Content, with her curiosity eased down for now, she leaned against him even tighter and gazed at the gorgeous French fields stretching on both sides of them, sprinkled with frost, blurring next to them as they passed them by.

Soon, they came near a more inhabited area, embraced with a perfect mixture of urban and rural charm and, upon reaching a specific cottage at the edge of what seemed to have been a wooded area, they stopped.

“We’re here?! We’re finally here?!”, the raven haired girl practically shouted as he turned the engine off, one foot on the ground, arms clapping excitedly, but her helmet still on her head.

Carefully stepping off of the motorcycle, Luka laughed softly, took his own helmet off in one fluid motion, placed it to rest against the steering wheel before helping his girlfriend take hers off and placing a kiss atop her forehead.

“Yes and no.”

The sound she produced, frowning deeper and deeper, sounded almost like a quiet growl.

He laughed again, putting away their helmets and pulling his bike a bit further aside to park it next to the cottage’s entrance. “You waited for almost an hour, now you can’t wait for fifteen more minutes?”

When he reached her, she immediately jumped into a hug, but the eyes looking up at him from the ruffles of his scarf were those of the most adorable rage he has ever seen in his life. “I have had my waiting, Couffaine, give me hints or risk dire consequences!”, she murmured against the woolen material and he cupped her face, bringing it up closer to his as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Soon, my small bundle of anger and rage, soon.”

She moved away and swung her glove at him at that with feigned anger and quickly hopped back to give him one more peck as they both laughed.

“This place here,” he nodded towards the cottage, “Is where a really good friend of my mom’s lives. He works here. And therefore we have special privileges and access that hardly anyone else has, just for us, just for today”, he took her hand and lead the way into the wooded area.

She chuckled. “So… Driving five kilometers per hour faster on the road was out of the question, but trespassing into a strange wooded area outside of Paris is perfectly fine?”

“Hey, it’s not trespassing if it’s…”, he looked aside, puzzled, “Authority approved type of trespassing?”

Marinette went from holding his hand to hooking her arm around it and hugging herself against his side, “You know, everyone keeps thinking you’re this bad boy with a guitar, or just a heartthrob badass rocker on the rise, but in fact, you’re just a teddy bear.”

He laughed pressed his lips against the top of her head, “Yeah, but I’m your teddy bear.”

She smiled, looking up at him with loving eyes, “Yes you are.” And she wouldn’t change it for the world. Her perfect mix of prince charming and a dashing rogue, of sunshine and moonlight, the perfect combination of absolute kindness and softness with a perfectly fitting edge of just enough of exhilaration and wildness. And to think that, a year and a half, after first hearing the first version of ‘her song’, in front of her parents’ bakery, she was still partially capable on letting him slip away for Adrien. Now she wouldn’t let him slip away even if the entire universe offered itself up to her.

“But wait, technically… We are trespassing?”

“Today, you are not to worry about secondary things like that.”

“Luka!”, she nudged his ribs with a genuinely concerned expression now that she realized he really wasn’t joking.

He chuckled again, “It’s gonna be fine… We’re not going to get into trouble and it’s worth it, trust me!”

“Hmm…”, Marinette mused, excited, but quite puzzled and just a bit nervous. In a way, it was a good feeling, to break away from doing everything by the line for a change, and she knew she was not only safe with Luka, but also that he, as mentioned, never would do anything dangerous or fully illegal with her, not to mention that she fully and unconditionally trusted him. So she decided to be brave.

And she didn’t have to stay in her mildly perturbed state for too long as, very soon, they reached the end of the small wooded area.

Marinette clutched at his hand tightly, standing there fully astound.

“Welcome to…”

“Versailles…”

Luka chuckled slightly, “With it’s premises entered by an ever so slightly backdoor way.”

She turned to him, still in a state of absolutely blissful, overjoyed shock, “How did you know that I…”

At her sudden lack of words, he smiled and pulled her into a gentle hug. “Juleka told me you’ve never been here yet”, he shrugged pulling away gently, “And to have grown up in Paris and never been to Versailles is a crime that I had to rectify”, he joked, and she felt an urge of happiness to sudden, she could have cried. Hopping in one place twice, she clapped her hands and turned to the gorgeous, stunning vast fields of flawless shrubbery, grass and blue winter skies, stretching in front of them all the way to the magnificent palace at the garden’s end.

“Screw trespassing…!”, a sudden bout of courage grabbed onto her in her euphoria, “We’re getting to that castle!”

Her hand clasped tightly onto his and they shared a grinning, determined look of agreement, as though they somehow read other’s minds in that very moment, before they began sprinting through the perfect trails amidst the trees, bushes and winding pathways, all preserved perfectly under a thin layer of eyes, making the whole place seem even more like a location springing to life right out of a fairytale.

Peering behind one of the trees, Marinette stuck her tongue out playfully and smirked at Luka, laughing running towards her, “Catch me if you can, Couffaine!”

With a chuckle, he smirked back in a fiendish way that was just charming enough to make Marinette feel an array of fireworks of tingles all over through her body. “Challenge accepted, Dupain-Cheng”, he replied completely confident, causing her to giggle out a tiny squeal of faux panic before she set of to find cover behind the next rich green topiary, luscious even in a winter as cold as this one, as was, somehow, the entire garden.

Reaching the stunning Colonnade grove, Marinette stopped next to one of the beautiful columns, catching her breath quietly as she glided her palm across the smooth marble, admiring the texture of the perfect icy cold surface. Each column the a stunning fluid shade of red or blue, one following the other in a perfect circle with the Abduction of Proserpina by Pluto statue placed right in the middle - a perfectly white vision in marble. She felt like she was in a fairytale. How on Earth did she never come here before…

Suddenly, she felt a hand graze her other palm and in a second, in unique kind of instinct where her hand recognized the other one before her mind did, she instantly intertwined their fingers, only to be spun around and swiftly wrapped into a familiar warm embrace.

"Got you now, my princess", he whispered before placing a soft peck against her lips, the sparks within her vivid once more, spreading from her heart to every corner of her body, causing an array of sensations from the soothingly knotted yearning at the pit of her stomach, to the utmost tender tingles she felt all the way to the tips of her fingers, like pure happiness sparkling through her, so strong and genuine that it couldn’t be contained.

She giggled and locked her lips with him before pulling away only so they could catch their breaths, rosy-cheeked and chuckling blissfully, their foreheads and noses still pressed together.

“Come on my brave trespassing knight”, she stepped away, taking his hand with a grin, “Show me more of your kingdom before the royal guards catch us and give your mom and my parents a heart-attack when they call to tell them their kids have been arrested in a castle outside of Paris”

“I honourably promise that I shall let no guard come anywhere near you, my princess! I swear by my life that I will protect you and our parents’ health for I have fallen for you far too much to jeopardize either of those two”, he grinned and made a surprisingly authentic and gallant knightly bow before her, causing her to break into a fit of blushing giggles again for a moment.

"I bet you say that to all the girls you take on romantic, secret walks around the Versailles gardens in winter", she pouted teasingly.

"No", he shook his head with a smile, “I only say it in hopes of making this one girl in front of me as absolutely and entirely smitten with me as I am with hers.”

"And is it working?“, she interlocked their fingers.

"You tell me, my fair maiden.”

Her shoulders shrugged as they walked, a jokingly disappointed look on her face, “I don’t know… I mean a true princess is never fully charmed until she’s had her first romantic waltz with her dashing suitor.”

Still grinning, he quirked an eyebrow, “What happened to the incredibly-scared-of-dancing-especially-if-it’s-a-real-ballroom-dance-Marinette?”

“You happened, you goof!”, she punched him jokingly and he laughed. “And, that Marinette has never been in the middle of the most beautiful winter outdoor ballroom in the vicinity of one of France’s most stunning castles”, her hand let go of his only to tip-toe a few steps away, spreading her arms and spinning around as she took in the gorgeous view of the Roccocco Grove. The massive, gorgeous stones adorned with decorations and fountains all around them and, even though the fountains didn’t work at the moment, even though the breath-taking arena-like structure lacked the marble flooring, colors, vast audiences and lights that it featured when it was originally built centuries ago, the whole vision of the entire outdoor ballroom structure, covered by thin translucent snow, sparkling in the light winter sun as if it was thousands of little diamonds spilled and strewn across the cold stone, was as if it somehow appeared all around them straight out of a dream. A dream from which Marinette never wanted to wake up.

Regarding the waltz and dancing in general, partially, she was only joking and, partially, she still was a bit terrified to embarrass herself in front of him and to therefore singlehandedly somehow ruin a moment like these, so she wasn’t truly expecting it when he closed the distance between them again, took another graceful small bow that he probably thought was silly but to her it was so charmingly dashing and perfect that, with his smile and the absolute magic radiating from this particular garden grove, it honestly caused her to instantly feel irrevocably and entirely smitten and taken aback by the now increasing levels of dream-likeness of this entire situation.

“Well than…”, he offered her his hand, “May I be so bold as to ask you for a dance, princess?”

And, also somehow without expecting her own courage, but also fully well knowing that there was no way she was capable of uttering anything else right now, she took his hand and with a shy, adoring smile replied, “You may.”

She always forgot how good of a dancer Luka actually was. Coming from a musical family and loving music so much, one would assume that, other than having a huge passion for guitar and, so far secretly, singing, he would also enjoy dancing in more casual, modern music-related situations. So she was incredibly surprised to have learned that he actually could, and very well at that, waltz! Of course, she knew the basic steps, for which she was insanely grateful currently because it was the only thing allowing her to be able to follow his lead, but Luka was gathering more and more points for secretly being a prince behind that façade of just a calm, introverted, punk-rock boy. In fact, it reminded her of that day more than a year ago at the ice rink where she was too busy and blind chasing after Adrien to fully appreciate the down-right movie-like way he spun her around, lifted her and held her in his arms on that rink before Philippe was akumatized.

This time, on the other hand, she was entirely without any other care, focus, or distraction in her mind, now for her the only thing that existed was him and how light and free and so incredibly loved and beautiful she felt in his hands. The ballroom around them might as well have had actual candles, diamonds, fountains and decorations behind them, there might as well have been real music behind them and even if she stumbled in her steps a few times, even if she faltered a bit occasionally, he was there to help her, to catch her, and she never stopped being amazed at how easy it was to just laugh in each other’s arms, ignore life for a moment and just… be, when she was with him.

“Hold on to my shoulders with both of your hands now”, he said suddenly, smiling, and she obeyed, although a tad confused, before she found herself lifted up by her waist slightly mid-spin and swiftly brought back down into his embrace, like they were in scene from Beauty and the Beast.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug as she laughed in that breathless, entirely interwoven with joy way in which only people in love can laugh when they’re completely overcome with how they feel when they’re with the person the care most for.

“If this isn’t reality, never wake me up, please…”, she kept chuckling, “How are you even real, Luka, how did I ever even deserve someone like you?”

She giggled a bit more, but quickly turned dead silent and pulled away as she felt Luka’s smile against her neck fade away slowly, his hands around her losing the strength of their grip. The sudden cold change of attitude was so strong it Marinette snap out of their dreamlike state within a second, replacing it with a string of panic and worry.

"Luka?”, her tone was quiet but nervous, “What’s wrong?”

"Marinette… I need to tell you something… I need you to know, really know something…“

He stepped back a bit, carefully plucking her hands from his neck and placing one of them in both of his own.

The dark haired girl turned an alarming shade of pale that matched the lithe frost covering the surfaces around the grove. "What… is it?”, her voice was cautious and silent, but upsetting her was the last thing Luka wanted to do right now, so he tried to muster up a small sad smile, gently squeezing her hands in his own.

„You’ve been kind of stressed lately and it’s only been so briefly since we’ve been… an actual couple…”, a pause and a shy smile graced his features that Marinette could only describe as breathtakingly adorable, but after that, heartbreakingly fast, his smile faded. Slowly, she studied his eyes with hers, puzzled and worried, as he ran the fingers of his free hand down his scalp through his teal locks before stopping to rub at his neck with a brief sigh, a habit of nervousness and a sign of hesitation, she knew how to recognize these small signs when they painted themselves across his features when he tried his best to hide them and when everyone else thought they were just random quirks. But she knew. “And suddenly“, he continued, torn, silent, suddenly avoiding her gaze, „I feel like I haven’t been as good anymore at keeping you happy or relaxed, and I think it’s because I know everyone’s still saying that…”, his cheeks reddened, but his face somehow grew even more somber. He sighed once more, “Literally, someone from our group said to me a few days ago that they all know I’m just that boy who’s going to be someone to ‘keep you busy’ while you’re getting over Adrien, someone to check all your ‘firsts’ with, until you gather some confidence from this before you finally get together with Adrien for the long term…”

“Luka… Who said that, was Chlo-…”, Marinette tried to stop him, reaching out to place a hand against his cheek, but he caught it and cradled it again in his own palms instead, this time both of his hands held hers in a way in which a person craddles a final drop of water that’s helping them cling to their very life amidst a desert. Lovingly, tenderly, and almost desperately in the way they shook ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, please, I-I just need to say this, cause if I don’t, it’ll take me getting akumatized again and fearing that I’ve hurt you or lost you to say anything, and than I’ll stay silent again for six months until I muster up the courage to try to again attempt saying something that’s been hurting me bit by bit on the inside, until it’s almost too late to say anything, like the last time, cause…”, he gave her that heartbreaking small but growingly sad smile again, “I could write and play a thousand of songs, melodies and tunes to show you how I’m feeling, but sometimes, as much as I’m… very clearly horrible with words, sometimes they need to be said and something nothing else is enough when things like this bubble up unspoken… I’ve seen it with my parents, with other people, and I swear to always be completely honest with you, even with things that are scaring me.”

Marinette had to fight an urge to touch his cheeks and somehow smooth the sudden immensely strong fear and lack of his typical mellow optimism off of his face, but she suppressed it, for now, and simply carefully nodded, urging him to continue.

“The worst is, the person that said this… They, I’m pretty sure, didn’t mean it as a necesarrily bad thing, they just said it kind of as a casual humorous observation cause they, somehow, thought I was okay with it, that I was the kind of chill, fairweather guy that am in on that… Of course, people like Juleka knows I’m not, maybe Rose and Ivan know, people really close to me that spend almost every day with me…but the truth is…”, he frowned for a moment, shaking his head before his eyes met hers again with an earnestness so fierce and pure she could swear she could feel it, “I’m not. I’m not okay with it.”

His fingers caressed her knuckled with the kind of gentleness she’s never felt before. It didn’t matter it was icy cold outside, it made her very core light up with a summer-like warmth and she had to once again fight the urge to grab his face, scream if needed that 'I know you’re not like that, I know!’, just to extinguish this ridiculous notion that she shares this opinion of him with this insanely cruel person, but before she got the chance to, he hesitantly parted his lips to speak again. “I know I’ve told you this before, but to me, this is more than just having another crush or a girlfriend to date for a few weeks or months cause we’re teenagers, and you’re still getting over Adrien, and I’m the easy-going yet rebellious punk rocker who’s here as your rebound and that’s how relationships go in our age …”, he shyly rolled his eyes, angry at the very fact that things like this are expected from people their age because eighteen and sixteen isn’t old enough to know love, when he knew the love he felt well enough to propose to this girl right here and now and not regret it until they’re old and grey and shrivelled up, and he saw the kind of honest, strong love in other people their age all around them, in Alya and Nino and Rose and Juleka and Ivan and Mylene and shattered his heart that he finally found a girl that made him feel like he was constantly dreaming, even when loving her made him hurt, even when being by her side meant that he wasn’t the one she would prefer there, even back when standing by her made him feel both more happy and broken than he’s been in a long time, perhaps ever, he knew how terrifyingly, beautifully, most assuredly different and strong this was. To the point Juleka even mocked and teased him for a while until she realized that this was actually real and very much happening to her introverted, strong but bad with emotions big brother that hardly ever even having had a proper crush or two before.

“What I mean is… What I want to make sure you know about and what I say to anyone thinking or saying stuff like that, because I know more of them have thought something like that as well but were perhaps too polite to voice it and what I mean to say to those people and that outlook on love and on us is…”, he held her hands just a bit tighter and took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers with an unmistakable sense of fear for her reaction, but his words were determined, “…to hell with that, and to hell with what we have being anything close to just that. You’re the first thing in my life that anchored me this strongly or made me feel this way this hard and now that you’re finally with me and are perhaps feeling at least an inkling of what I am, after everything, I am not letting this be a typical cliché teenage passing thing, no matter who thinks that it is and it’s so, so important for me that you know that too…”

His expression, locked with hers, soon grew fully terrified when she didn’t immediately respond, but in reality, Marinette was only out of words for an entirely different set of reasons than the darkest case scenario that he was imagining.

She now firmly placed her second palm onto his hands and squeezed them, smiling and shaking her head in disbelief of what this amazing, mature, selfless boy was somehow made to believe she thought of him. “Luka, I never thought you were like that in the first place and you have nothing to prove to me… The fact is, you are the most kindhearted, empathetic, caring boy I know and I definitely agree with saying ‘to hell’ with what anyone thinks of us…”. She glanced aside with a small rueful sigh, “I know that after more than a year of my very obvious and embarrassing pining for Adrien… it may seem like I need more convincing than necessary but, my truth and my opinion is… You’re not Adrien… And it makes me so happy that you’re not and that’s why I love you. Because just meeting you slowly made me finally realize that, all this time, I needed and felt best and truly loved not Adrien, but you, you silly thing! All of what you just said,“ she chuckled happily, „I’ve known it already. And I am very happy to be here to stay for as long as you’ll have me…“, giggling quietly, she hunched her head down a bit, flush rosyness coloring her cheeks swiftly though, through a set of thick black eyelashes.

And just like that, his lips pulled into that gorgeous, bright grin that accentuated his cheekbones in a way she loved so much and lit up his eyes so that their teal to aquamarine shades almost seemed to have all grown a hue brighter.

„For as long as I’ll have you?“

Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around her as he spun her around, causing her to instantly squee and laugh loudly as she held herself tightly against his chest.

When he put her down again, he brushed a stray lock of dark hair from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead, then against her lips. “How does forever sound?“

#lukanette #lukanette fic #marinette x luka #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #my fic #miraculous ladybug #ml #words #long post

48 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

Text

Okay, I knew Alistair the Dream-Keeper wasn’t the first time I’d written the idea of magically weaponized dreams, so I went hunting through old email accounts and found a whole fucking manuscript I wrote like, twelve years ago and totally forgot about. WHOOPS. (This happens with me more often than you’d think actually possible). I’m only a third of the way through my re-read of it, but it holds up surprisingly well IMO, I’m pretty pleased. I can actually do something with this, I think.

Course, it was apparently written back during my whole “every thing must be hetero otherwise there will be no publishing” period, before the beginning of my personal Age of LOL Nah, Fuck That, Everything Must Be Gay. So, first things first, Jez definitely needs a girlfriend, and also a different name. I can’t believe I named her Jez, like, wow, I was really trying to get YA Bingo, wasn’t I? In my defense, this was when I was twenty-three. Also, this first chapter here has a character named Scott and this was before Teen Wolf even premiered, so apparently I just like the name Scott? Huh. Did not know.

BURNING DAYLIGHT

Jez O’Neill knows she has three years, two months, and sixteen days to live.

She’s had visions for as long as she can remember. She knows they’re never wrong. And when the boy her visions say will someday kill her comes into her life, she knows to stay far away.

But somehow he gets close anyways. Because Nathan is perfect. He’s handsome, he’s charming, he’s utterly, unbearably sweet. And when he learns of Jez’s visions, he promises to cheat Death for her. An interest in New Age turns into an obsession with the occult, and that leads to tiny cracks in the walls of the world, where strange and untrustworthy spirits wait to barter with anyone desperate enough to try.

Magic, however, always comes with a price. The higher the reward you seek, the more you can expect to pay, and the spell Nathan thinks will change their destiny instead puts them on a collision course with Fate. It changes him, twists him in mind and soul, transforming the boy Jez loves into the madman who will someday take her life.

With only three years left until the day she now knows she can’t avoid, Jez discovers she and Nathan share the same zipcode again as he sows death and destruction in the streets of LA. But rather than flee for another city, Jez pits herself against the monster she once loved, the monster she helped create, determined to make sure no one else gets caught in the crossfire of their attempt to cheat their fates.

Call it redemption if you want. Jez calls it Tuesday.

Chapter 1

Dreams are doorways if you have the right key.

That’s why I’ve wasted a perfectly good Sunday night perched on the edge of Scott Kinley’s desk. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and I’m sure I look like a gargoyle in the pitch dark of the two o’clock hour, but every chair in his bedroom is covered in dirty teenage boy laundry. I’ll stick with my perch, thanks.

I kick my legs out and arch my spine, stretching my arms over my head with fingers laced together. Cramped and aching muscles voice their protest. Something cracks in my neck when I roll my head back. Meanwhile, Scott Kinley snores contentedly in his sleep in the bed across the room. I shoot him a glare that’s best described as withering.

Spears of pale moonlight slip through the slatted blinds covering the window above his bed. They stab the length of his body, highlighting a strong jawline and tousled blond hair, not to mention a chest and set of abs that frankly, I just find obnoxious on a fellow teenager. It’s L.A. in early September – code for unbearably hot – and he’s sleeping with the bare minimum of sheets, a loose span of cotton that’s only covering him up to his waist. I’d enjoy the cheap thrill more if it didn’t make me feel like such a perv.

After all, I’m a total stranger who broke into his house and has spent the last four hours going through his things and watching him sleep. It’s kinda hard to feel good about that. In my defense, I’m only here to save his life from a creepy magical serial killer. Course, I have strong doubts that would hold up in a court of law should he wake up and have me arrested for breaking and entering. But I still feel it’s worth mentioning.

A yawn and a glance at his alarm clock confirm that it’s 2:07 am and I have no life. I lean back on the desk and rifle through his homework some more as I go back to invading his privacy. My only defense here is I’m really bored.

His handwriting’s slightly more legible than your average garden-variety chicken scratch, but I’m still not one hundred percent his name’s Scott Kinley. The Scott part is clear, but the ‘I’ in what I think is Kinley could be a really jacked up ‘o’ I guess. Whatever. It’s a pre-calculus assignment, and the last yearbook on his bookshelf is from his sophomore year, so I’m guessing he’s a junior like me. Or like I would be, if I still bothered going to school. Hmm. Eleventh grade and already in precalc? Someone’s a smarty-pants. Interesting.

A row of trophies and a couple of team photos declare him a water polo jock, and not too shabby of one according to this MVP title. Explains the abs. I roll my eyes around the rest of the room. Small TV so old it has a VCR player built into it. An even older Sega Genesis console is hooked up to it, so either Scott’s big on nostalgia or his family’s not big on luxuries. There’s a couple of movie posters tacked to the wall, but the puddle of light leaking across the floor doesn’t reach far enough for me to make out any details. Then a freestanding bookcase, a good five shelves high, filled with actual books. Above it is a college pennant with a bear on it – I think that’s Cal Berkeley, right? Possible destination, I’m guessing….

God. And he was in bed by ten. Smart, good-looking, athletic and ambitious. Did his parents just win the baby lottery, or if I go down the hall will I find the altar they used to bargain with the Devil?

Not that it matters. I stretch my legs out again and dip my toes into the pool of moonbeams, watching them spill across my feet when I wiggle. It’s only been six months since my last boyfriend went all dark side on me and turned into a spell-wielding slaughterhouse. I’m kind of not dating right now.

So it’s only natural my visions would lead me to the most eligible teen bachelor in Los Angeles – I cast another quick look around the desk for the requisite ‘me and my girlfriend’ photo – nope, most eligible teen bachelor in Los Angeles. Ugh. It’s like announcing your diet and inheriting a pastry shop the next day. I feel a sudden urge to grab one of his dirty shirts off the floor just to make sure his one human flaw is real and not an illusion.

Wow. I can’t believe I just thought that. Apparently sleep deprivation makes me weird. Besides, there’s no way that smell could be imaginary.

I throw another withering glare in Scott’s direction. It’s his fault I’m a weird, sleep-deprived pervert in his stinky bedroom. My baleful stare bakes the air above his bed. It bends and twists like a summer heat wave on asphalt. Wait. That’s not right.

I shake my head, peering through the fog that shrouds my tired mind. Somewhere in my snooping I failed to notice Scott’s happy snores had turned into frantic whimpers. He’s writhing on his bed; sweat beads all over his restless body, glistening like fragile pearls in the faint light. The room is abruptly a sauna. Heat climbs the walls and steam mists the glass of the picture frames.

“Shit,” I whisper, and I’m in motion, leaping off the desk into a crouch. I dip my hand into my hoodie and whip out my knife, steel slicing moonbeams to ribbons as the blade springs free. A low keening shreds the silence, hoarse spectral shouts as faces flicker through the knife, reflected in the steel. I cross the room in three steps. Scott cries out. His fingers scratch at the air like crooked claws.

Somewhere a door opens, and something steps through. Between the space of one second and the next, a heavy silhouette takes shape on this side of the dream.

I slam into the figure with all my weight, blade aimed for the midsection where I’m hoping vital organs will be. The knife sinks in too easily. The sandman-born beastie is still in that transitive state where its dream wrought form has yet to shift all the way down the spectrum to vulnerable flesh. Then my knife catches and scrapes against bone. The nightmare screams as it sinks its roots into our reality and feels pain for the first time.

It’s tougher to pull the blade free, but I’m stronger than any normal seventeen year old girl has a right to be. More specifically, as long as I’m wielding that knife I’m as strong as all the monsters it’s killed combined. And I’ve racked up a decent body count. Blood and bile sprays in slow motion, a cresting wave of black tar. A few drops land on my arm. There’s a hissing sound and I feel like I’m on fire. I grit my teeth and swing again. It dodges and I miss. We both regroup, and I get my first good look at it.

Damn. Mr. Perfect Teen USA has one hell of a fucked up subconscious. I’m just saying.

The nightmare swallows what dim light comes near it, refusing to be illuminated. It’s thick, ridged with protrusions of bone and slick scales that shimmer with their own dark radiance. A trunk-like torso gives way to stocky legs. At certain angles they seem to merge into a single column similar to a snake. It has four arms, except for when it has six – and then two and then twelve and then they’re not arms at all, but tentacles. The head is a gaping chasm of teeth and forked tongue surrounded by a lion’s mane of mottled skin. It’s dizzying and hard to look at. Confusing and chaotic. The only constant is its ugliness.

I charge at it, because I’m just that dumb. Hey, only the good die young.

It dips to the side, cobra-quick, and its tail snaps out like the crack of a whip. I take the hit square in my ribs and I’m lifted off my feet, flying back across the room. My breath flees from my lungs, my head slams back into a wall. I bite my tongue and taste copper.

“Rude,” I gasp.

Scrambling up to snatch my knife from where I dropped it mid-flight, I steal strength from its macabre magic. Even still, regaining my feet takes effort and time I don’t have to spare. The nightmare’s turned its attention back to Scott. He’s finally awake and sitting up his bed. Pale, frightened, and totally out of his league. Considering we were dealing with his worst nightmare in every literal sense of the word, I cut him some slack. I’m a good person.

I roll forward and rake my cursed blade along the creature’s side on my way. It rears and screams again. Dimly I hear footsteps and distant shouting.

“What the hell is that thing?” Scott asks, eyes locked on the beastie like a man entranced. Oh good, he can talk. I was starting to wonder. I duck around the nightmare and stick myself in between it and him.

“Don’t ask me. It’s your childhood trauma,” I say, hefting my knife and gauging distance. “Now shut up, don’t die, and for god’s sake put on some pants.”

I lunge and bury my knife in the thing’s throat. I’m liking my odds less and less when it still finds the strength to knock my grip loose and drop me on my ass. More blood drips down on me, igniting nerve endings everywhere it touches my skin. Let’s recap. I have spunk, pizzazz, seven spells and a cursed knife on my side. It has burning blood, a build like a freight train, and claws and fangs that seem to multiply every time I look at it. It leans forward and roars its hostility right in my face.

Also, it has halitosis.

A swipe of its many tentacle-arms knocks me back and to the side again. I land on the floor, staring up at the bookshelf. It’s tricky reading the titles from my upside-down vantage point, but I hazily make out the collected works of one H.P. Lovecraft. That explains a lot.

“You know, there are worse things in the world than being a cliché,” I complain, glowering over my shoulder at Scott. He has the decency to look ashamed, over where he’s huddled on the other side of the desk. Course, I’m sure he has no idea what he’s ashamed of, but my tone conveys the point rather well, I think. “Seriously. The dumb jock thing. Just give it a try.”

Mano a mano isn’t working out too well for me so I switch tactics. I toss a quick ‘Hail Mary’ skyward, kick off my shoes and chant the most powerful – and dangerous – of my seven spells. It’s a nasty little sucker I bartered for in the second sphere, the Circle of Fire. I rattle off short, harsh syllables that climb reluctantly from the base of my throat, guttural utterances that were never meant to be made by a human voice. I dip my fingers in moonlight and etch glowing hieroglyphics in the air – they hang there for a moment, sharply luminescent in the seconds before they fade to black.

Staccato snaps and pops ring out. The alarm clock short circuits. Streetlights flicker and die. Every electronic in a fifty meter radius develops a sudden terminal illness and the air feels flooded. Thick and heavy with static as thousands of wayward electrical impulses conduct themselves through the atmosphere to me. I dig my toes into the heavy carpet and feel the hair on my head stand on end. Then I’m running, my nervous system supercharged with too much speed and power to contain long. I duck past the nightmare’s swinging arms – it might as well be lumbering at tortoise speed – and plant a single palm flat on its back.

My touch hits it like a thunderbolt, lightning barreling down the synapses in my arm and ripping into it with hurricane fury. It squeals and goes airborne, crashing into the desk and reducing it to kindling. Scott falls back, mouth open, and smoke wisps up from the creature’s motionless body.

For a second, I dare to hope it’s dead. It would be really awesome for me if it were. That was my most powerful offensive spell and using it comes with a one in ten chance of killing the spellcaster. So, you know. I’d really like to not have to use it again, please.

The nightmare heaves itself to its feet-tail, sending spears of desk turned firewood flying about the room. Some of the shrapnel heads my way and I cover my eyes. Splinters gouge at my palms. I peek past my fingers, and in a blur of motion the creature crosses the room and throws itself through the window. It rips through the blinds and shards of glass fountain into the hot summer night. The darkness outside swallows it whole.

“I hate you,” I casually inform the universe.

I pick past debris and make for the window. Or what’s left of it anyways. The house is on a hill, high enough elevation that glass from the window is still showering to the ground below. Chiming, delicate drops of crystal rain. City lights gleam from one horizon to the next. A pitch-black shadow makes its way across distant rooftops, dark even against the darkness, like a spreading oil stain spilling towards the downtown metropolis. Lovely.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott finally finds his voice again, but I have no time to soothe his shattered nerves or offer an introductory course on Things That Go Bump in the Night 101. I run my hands through my frizzy, static-damaged hair.

“That was disgusting, you need therapy, and the pants thing was not a suggestion,” I inform him, bending to retrieve my knife. Scott flushes and grabs the sheet off the bed. He doesn’t even try and peek at my ass. A piece of the Scott Kinley puzzle clicks into place, and I feel a tiny bit better.

“Hey, quick question. Are you gay?”

His jaw drops, but he recovers fairly quickly. “What – how did you – I mean, why?”

I shrug. “No reason. Just won a bet with myself is all.”

Hey, it’s the little things in life. I turn back to the window and track the nightmare’s course. Picking a rooftop a few buildings ahead of it, I prick my thumb and whisper a spell from the seventh sphere, the Celestial Circle. I sketch bloody sigils in the moonbeams cascading through the open window. They turn pale and faint and I grab their remnants like door handles. The silver light parts, a gauzy curtain opening on a window to a distant rooftop far below.

I cast a sigh at the bewildered boy behind me and step through. It’s probably for the best. Like I said, I’m kinda not dating right now anyways.

The curtain falls shut behind me and I resume my hunt.

#Burning Daylight #kalen writes things sometimes

5 notes · View notes

lpdwillwrite4coffee · 5 years ago

Text

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER NINETEEN

Serena was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully. She might not even use her tools to rip out his insides- just her nails, new manicure be damned.

Every time she set out to finish her job, one of Nicholas’ pathetic packs of Newborns was right around the corner already fucking everything up. He was being careless; oblivious to anything other than his own scheming. Typical.

Striding out of the elevator, Serena blew past several human Familiars, none of whom were hers. She’d lost her desire for a pet a while ago, when-

She cut her own thoughts off with a short grunt at the back of her throat.

One of Nicholas’ many secretaries stepped out from behind her desk, moving towards her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bradley is in with-”

“Does it look like I fucking care?” Serena snarled, fangs jutting against her bottom lip.

Stiletto heels grinding into the carpet, she proceeded to the end of the hall and threw open the door. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She shouted.

Then she noticed the other woman sitting across from Nicholas, sipping from a cup of tea and tossing her dark wavy hair over her shoulder. Her laughter faded at Serena’s entrance, but her warm eyes still danced with the joy from the moment she and Nicholas had been having.

She was beautiful- slender and olive skinned- and she held herself like she was aware and proud of her appearance. Serena immediately hated her.

“Who the hell is this?” Serena asked, motioning to her while glaring at Nicholas.

Leaning back in his seat, Nicholas smirked. “Which question would you like me to answer first? Wait, never mind, I don’t care.” He glanced over at the other woman and winked. “Serena, this is Caroline. She’s a Public Relations adviser for City Hall.”

“How exciting,” Serena deadpanned.

Nicholas continued through her interjection. “She’s also Alexander’s newest acquisition.”

Serena blinked. “What?”

Caroline smiled over the edge of her cup. “You act as if I’m a prize.”

“A woman as beautiful as you is a prize,” Nicholas said, grinning. “One a man like Alexander must have fought very hard to win.”

“He certainly put forth a considerable effort,” Caroline said, finishing her tea. “He even sent over flowers to my office this morning, just because.”

Serena folded her arms over her chest and sneered. “You might want to adjust your definition of ‘considerable effort’.”

Caroline’s lips twitched as she set her cup down on the low side table. “You really weren’t exaggerating, were you Nicholas?”

“And this isn’t even the worst of it,” he said, eyes flicking over to Serena.

Death was too easy for him. Serena was going to split him apart a thousand different ways but leave his heart safely behind his sternum, just so he could suffer in agony for the rest of eternity.

Serena took a step forward, ready to leap over the desk and begin dismembering him, when another voice joined them.

“Caroline?” Alexander stood in the doorway, a thick stack of papers in his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you for lunch,” she answered with a knowing smile. “Nicholas found me wandering the halls and offered me a cup of tea while I waited for you to wrap up your meeting.”

“It was the least I could do,” Nicholas said, eyeing Alexander. His expression was polite but there was a cold edge in his gaze that made even Serena nervous.

Her Sire noticed it as well, given the sudden stiffness in his shoulders. “That was kind of you, Nicholas. Thank you.” There was no hint of gratitude in Alexander’s voice. Looking to Caroline, he said, “Have you finished your visit or should I leave you to entertain Nicholas some more?”

“No, we just finished.” Standing, she flashed a brilliant smile at Nicholas and said, “Thank you again. It was lovely to finally meet some of Alexander’s colleagues.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Nicholas said. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Wrapping a protective arm around Caroline’s waist, Alexander lead her out of the office, but not before staring Nicholas down, irises flashing white.

When the two had disappeared down the corridor, Serena squared her shoulders and faced Nicholas. “What was that about?”

“I was intrigued by the girl,” he said, lounging casually in his chair. “And she smells like honey. I love honey.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “I was talking about the serious round of hate eye-fucking you and Alexander were giving each other. Poor Caroline must have felt left out with all that potent eroticism bouncing over her head.”

Chuckling darkly, Nicholas stood up. “Believe me, I won’t be the one getting fucked in this scenario.”

“What does that mean?”

“Aren’t you tired of following him blindly?” Nicholas asked, walking to his drink cart and reaching for a decanter of scotch.

“I don’t follow anyone blindly,” Serena snapped.

“Sure about that… kitten?”

Her snarling rippled through the air and Nicholas lifted an amused eyebrow.

“Whoops. I forgot only he calls you that.”

“Exactly.” She took a step forward. “So give me a reason not to cut your tongue out.”

“Because I’m looking out for both of us,” Nicholas said, turning with his drink in hand.

Serena frowned. “You’re not questioning anymore, you’ve already decided. You don’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust anyone. Not even myself,” he added with a smirk.

“Does this have anything to do with what you said yesterday?”

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Nicholas leaned back as he took a long pull from his glass. “Things aren’t adding up.”

“Care to explain further?” Serena asked.

“Whether or not it benefits our reputation, don’t you find it a bit reckless of our Sire to allow that girl to continue running through the city, just to be publicly ruined?” Nicholas finished the contents of his glass and turned to pour another. “Do you know what that book called her? ‘The Fire that Overtakes.’”

Serena scowled. “What does that mean?”

“It means she’s a lit cigarette ready to be tossed into a patch of dry grass,” he said. “And Alexander refuses to stamp her out before she causes real damage.”

Unease settled in Serena’s stomach. “What other reason could he have to keep her alive?”

Nicholas’ stare became distant as he absently swirled the liquor in his glass. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Agitation curled under his skin, causing him to fidget with the rolled sleeves of his button down. Swallowing his drink in one gulp, he slammed the tumbler down on the cart and started towards the door.

Watching him, Serena called, “If you think he has some kind of hidden agenda, then what purpose does Caroline serve?”

Nicholas paused, looking askance at her. “My guess? In two or three years, she’ll be your replacement.”

Unmoving and blind with dread, Serena stared into the space previously occupied by Nicholas until she couldn’t hear his footsteps any longer.

And then she growled.

* * *

“I don’t like this,” Nikki said, staring at her warped reflection in the stainless steel elevator doors.

Sliding a new magazine into his gun, Griffin cocked it before glancing at her. “What? That we’re crashing your doctor’s office or that we didn’t take the stairs?”

It wasn’t just the Underground’s patterns Nikki was discovering, she was discovering the patterns of the people too. And with Griffin, his use of sarcasm was directly proportionate to how tense he was.

Well fine, if he was going to be that way...

“Actually I was talking about how much I don’t like the carpet they put in,” she said, motioning to the floor. “Too much paisley, don’t you think?”

Griffin huffed out a laugh and she narrowed her eyes on the distracting tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I meant this.” She said. “All of this. Going in there, armed to the teeth-”

“I only brought my guns and four knives. I hardly see how that’s ‘armed to the teeth’.”

“He’s a fifty-something neurologist from New Hampshire.”

“Who’s also a Vampire’s Familiar,” Griffin added, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“He’s human.”

“Humans are dangerous too.”

Nikki’s stare was drawn down to the visible edge of his holster strap, like it was emphasizing his point for him.

“Let’s just try not to scare the guy too much okay? It might give him a heart attack.” She turned away with a sigh.

“Fifty’s kinda young for a heart attack,” Griffin muttered, glancing at the LED screen above the door.

Making an aggravated noise at the back of her throat, she started to retort back when she saw his smug grin and the fine wrinkles at the corner of his eye, and lost her words.

That bastard.

Nikki groaned and rolled her eyes, facing forward again. She would not smile back. She would not indulge his impish behavior.

Except that was definitely a grin she saw in her reflection.

Damn it.

The elevator doors separated with a ding and the warm, flirtatious tendrils surrounding them evaporated as they both remembered why they were there to begin with.

“Which way?” Griffin asked, stepping into the lobby.

“Left,” she said, following at his side.

A nurse at reception saw them both and nodded in greeting. “Hi there, how may I-?”

Griffin didn’t break his stride as he spoke. “Doctor Oliver. Where is he?”

“He’s with a patient right now.”

“Where?”

Panic widened the woman’s eyes as she reached for the desk phone. “Sir, you’ll have to wait-”

“Fine, we’ll find him ourselves,” Griffin said as they passed her.

Moving down the corridor, they both started pushing open exam room doors, ignoring the shouts from the nurses behind them. At the end of the hall at the left Nikki spotted the room she was most familiar with- Doctor Oliver’s private office. He had brought her in there after their first appointment to discuss her eligibility for the medical trial he was conducting. At the time the room had felt comforting, but now it reminded her of a steel trap. Jogging ahead, she threw open the door and rushed inside.

Doctor Oliver sat across from a young woman no older than Nikki, with a thin medical file in his hands and wire rimmed bifocals pushed to the tip of his nose. The woman gasped, glancing between Nikki and Griffin and then back at the doctor.

“Miss Anderson,” Doctor Oliver said with wry smile. “I’m sorry, but as you can see I’m with a patient, so if you’ll just wait-”

“Sorry doctor, but I’m not exactly in an accommodating mood,” she cut him off. Looking to the other woman, Nikki jerked her head towards the door. “You should leave.” When she didn’t move Nikki added, “Trust me. You don’t want this guy anywhere near your brain.”

At that, the woman gathered her purse and hurried past them, knocking into the nurse that was entering.

“I’m so sorry doctor, I told them to wait. I’ll call security-”

“No Linda, that’s alright,” Doctor Oliver said, removing his glasses and standing up. “I have business to discuss with Miss Anderson. Shut the door, will you?”

Confusion furrowed the nurse’s brow, but after a moment she did as she was asked and left the three alone in his office.

“So I take it you were expecting us?” Nikki asked.

“Somewhat,” Doctor Oliver said, edging around his desk. “I anticipated some sort of confrontation, but I hadn’t thought you’d bring your own attack dog.” He motioned towards Griffin, who only smirked menacingly.

Nikki leveled her stare on the man. “Well when you find out your physician is working with a Vampire, it’s a good idea to bring backup.”

Doctor Oliver regarded her with interest. “So, you’ve been made aware of the Underground.”

“I’ve been made aware of a lot of things,” she said, stepping forward. “Like how you’ve been peddling a drug made by Nicholas Bradley’s company while simultaneously being Alexander Rex’s bitch. Both of whom are Vampires, and one an Alpha.”

“Only one?” Doctor Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her, unfazed by her accusations. “Hmm. You might want to reconsider your source.”

Nikki’s throat went dry as she stared back at the man. “Both Bradley and Rex are Alphas?”

“That’s not possible,” Griffin said. “Each territory only has one Alpha.”

Doctor Oliver lifted his dark eyes to Griffin’s. “According to the old Codes. But those aren’t in existence anymore.”

“Says who?”

To Nikki, the gentle doctor had always had an air of benevolence surrounding him, making it even easier to trust him with her health and well-being. But in that moment, as a slow grin cracked his aging face apart, she saw the twisted malignancy hiding under his surface all this time.

“My Master, of course,” Doctor Oliver said, looking back to Nikki.

“You mean Rex.”

Licking his lips, Doctor Oliver said, “Your corpse will be the foundation of his empire.”

“Why?” Nikki snapped. “Why does he give a damn about me?”

The old man studied her a moment. “You already know.”

“Because I’m a Hunter? That’s why he poisoned me?”

“Poison?” Doctor Oliver frowned. “You weren’t poisoned. You were tested.”

Fear settled under Nikki’s skin like frostbite. “Tested for what?”

“To see if you were from the right bloodline.”

Griffin moved forward, crowding into the man’s space. “How about you start giving us the full story, before I really get impatient.”

“We had to be certain you were who my Master believed you to be,” Doctor Oliver started, looking at Nikki. “The rarest breed of Blooded Hunter… A Luminari.”

“A what?”

“The fire that overtakes,” Doctor Oliver continued. “Your kind present a very difficult obstacle if not dealt with immediately. Which is why we needed to find you as quickly as possible.”

She scowled at him. “By giving me fake migraine medicine?”

“’Fake’ isn’t exactly an accurate descriptor,” he said. “More like amplified.”

Griffin glared down at the doctor. “Meaning?”

“The pills Nikki took were about a hundred times the strength of a normal dose of Vicodin,” Doctor Oliver explained. “For the hundreds of others that took them, it was strong enough to kill them. But for Nikki, it was like taking a fast acting aspirin.”

Nikki’s face distorted in horror. “You murdered hundreds of people, just to see if they were a Hunter- a Luminari, like me?”

“We did it in search of you,” he clarified. “And we’ve been looking for a very long time.”

“But why?” She shouted, rushing forward. “What does being a Luminari have to do with your boss or his fucking empire?”

In a burst of manic energy, the doctor came at her, thrusting her against the wall and sending several framed pictures clattering to the floor. “Because you’re the only one that would be able to stop him and any other Vampires that got in your way! So we had to stop you first! We had to snuff you out before your fire engulfed us all!”

The tip of a silver blade appeared at the doctor’s neck and Nikki’s stare flashed up to see Griffin’s fist tightening around the handle.

Voice low and lethal, Griffin said, “How about you take a step back, before I snuff you out.”

Releasing Nikki, the doctor moved away with several halting paces, keeping his hands up in surrender.

“You don’t understand,” he said as he backed up against his desk. “I did what I had to.”

“You purposefully killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of people because your Master told you to,” Griffin said with disgust. “You’re nothing but a well-trained sheep.”

“It’s better to be a shepherd’s livestock than a wild beast caught in his snare,” Doctor Oliver replied, eerily calm.

“The only beast I see is you,” Griffin bit out. Turning, he went to Nikki and wrapped his hand around her arm. “C’mon,” he murmured, trying to lead her to the door. “He’s not gonna give us anything on Rex.”

“Wait,” she said, pulling away briefly and facing the doctor. “So who really wants me dead? Bradley or Rex?”

Doctor Oliver was quiet for a beat before he said, “Every Vampire in this city wants to watch you be drawn and quartered so they can suck the marrow from your bones.”

Nausea washed through her as she gaped. “Go to hell,” she spat.

“He’ll ruin you, like he’s ruined others,” he continued. “He’ll never stop. There’s no hope for you Nikki. You’ll burn, by his hand or yours, it doesn’t matter- You’ll turn to ash no matter what.”

“Enough,” Griffin shouted, wrenching open the door. As he did a scream echoed down the hall, only to be cut off by a wet tearing noise.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a female voice called out, taunting them.

Griffin and Nikki both stepped out of the office, staring down the long corridor. Blocking the main exit was a pack of ten- no make that twelve- Vampires, with the same black haired female from earlier at the head of the group. She held Linda’s lifeless body by the front of her pink scrubs, blood still gushing from her ravaged throat. Dropping the nurse, the female prowled forward, licking her fingers clean.

“So it is you,” she said, eyeing Griffin with a fanged smile. “Griffin O’Connor. We all thought you were dead. It was in the papers and everything.”

“Is this the part where I tell you not to believe everything you read?” He said, a mocking edge creeping into his words.

The female ignored him and flicked her blanched eyes to Nikki, adding, “And there’s your girlfriend. The Hunter bitch everyone’s been talking about.”

“Careful.” Nikki warned. “Bitches in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Cute.” The female smirked. “But you should probably start running now.”

As she spoke the Vampires behind her crouched down, readying themselves to launch forward at a deadly sprint. With a lion’s growl, the female snapped her jaws, and in a blur of motion the whole pack funneled down the hall towards them.

Gripping her hand tight, Griffin started running and pulled Nikki with him, through the side corridor and to the right. A red exit sign caught his attention and he aimed their trajectory, barreling past the metal door and down several flights of stairs.

“Griffin, something’s wrong,” Nikki gasped behind him.

“What?”

“I can’t… I’m trying to run faster, like I did before but-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he cut her off, afraid of any inhuman ears catching on. “C’mon.” He slowed at the eighth floor entrance and led her into the hallway.

The entire floor was under construction, probably Rex’s doing after he bought the building, with the overpowering smell of fresh paint and drywall clinging inside Griffin’s throat. Tarps were thrown over new furniture and cubicles and equipment had been left out near unfinished projects. Griffin scanned the area but from what he could see, the floor was empty of workers.

The room was quiet. The dogs, however, were howling at the encroaching Newborns. They had broken up their stampede and taken to the ceiling, stalking closer.

Brittle tile crumbled under a hard footfall and a heavily muscled male leapt down, hissing through elongated fangs. Two more followed suit, landing in lithe crouches behind the first.

Griffin’s gun was in his hand before he blinked. Three bullets found their marks and each body thudded to the concrete floor, dust swirling out from where they fell.

Wrapping his hand around Nikki’s, he quickened to a sprint, hauling her with him. She had been right- Nikki’s speed wasn’t a fraction of what it had been the day before or even that morning. Her limbs faltered and she stumbled several times, only staying upright because he caught her.

“Griffin,” she panted with fear behind her eyes.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he told her as they jogged down another flight of stairs.

Zigzagging their path would hopefully slow down the ones following them, and fade their scent trail enough to confuse the others that had split off from the pack.

Hopefully.

They bolted into another empty floor of half completed offices under construction and he made sure they got close enough to the cans of paint and primer to mask their smell.

“Oh no,” Nikki whispered, fingernails pinching into the back of his hand as she squeezed him tight.

“What?” He slowed momentarily, staring down at her.

At first he didn’t understand where the red drops on the concrete came from. The office walls were obviously being painted a dull white, so there would be no need for scarlet paint…

And then he saw Nikki’s other hand. Her fingers were smudged with an even deeper shade of red, the kind that twisted a huge knot in his stomach. It was the same color he’d been helpless to watch pool around his own abdomen, as he bled out on the floor of a burning night club.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled her to a halt and snagged a relatively clean rag off a work bench nearby.

“Here,” he said, pressing it under her nose.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It only just started.” She looked around at the floor and rushed to a collection of painting materials. Popping the lid off a can of paint thinner, she dumped it over, covering the thin trail of blood she’d left behind.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, taking Griffin’s hand again as she started to run.

“Nik-” He planted his feet, the soles of his boots squeaking on the slick floor. “You have to go.”

Wiping away the last smear of blood from her nose, Nikki stared up at him. “Yeah, I know we need to go, c’mon.”

Griffin’s hand, the one still firmly locked in her grasp, started to tremble. Painful realization clutched his insides, constricting until he couldn’t breathe.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. “Not us. You.”

A frown etched deeply between her brows. “What?”

“You have to run,” he said, pulling free of her and digging into his pocket.

“Griffin? What are you-?”

“Here.” He pressed keys into her palm and folded her fingers over them. “Take the van and drive as fast as you can back to the house.”

Nikki blinked. “No.”

“I’ll find my own way back.”

“No, Griffin.” She stared up at him, bright eyes wide with disbelief.

“I’ve gotta give you a fighting chance,” he said, leaning in and locking his gaze on hers. “I can hold them off long enough for you to make it outside, but you have to hurry.”

“No.” She shook her head, trying to hand him back his keys. “Griffin, I’m not leaving you.”

“I’ll be fine.” It was a lie.

Blue irises flashed gold as she grabbed his arm. “No,” she shouted.

Cupping his hand around the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, he held her so their faces were inches apart. His voice dropped to a firm whisper. “Listen to me. Nikki, I have to keep you safe. That’s all that matters now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You heard what Doctor Oliver said. You’re important- more important than we ever thought.” Griffin’s throat tightened, straining his words. “I have to keep you alive. You have to come out on the other side of this Nikki, and this is how.”

Angry tears stung her eyes. He wasn’t giving orders for an escape plot. He was trying to say goodbye.

“No, Griffin.” She fought to shake her head again, but his grip was too strong. “There’s too many of them. I’m not just gonna abandon you here.”

He paused, only for the span of two heart beats, memorizing the details of her face…The brilliant color of her Hunter eyes.

Then the dogs started to snarl a warning.

“Yes you are.”

It was a stunning flurry of movement Nikki couldn’t process.

His hold on her still firm, Griffin swept her towards the door and shoved her through, releasing her into the stairwell. He slammed the door in a deafening clang and twisted the dead bolt, locking her out.

Nikki’s horrified gasp echoed off the cinderblock walls around her. Breaking out of her shocked stillness, she leapt at the door, pulling violently at the handle but to no avail.

Bruised fingertips slid down the gray metal. “No,” she breathed, staring at the thin sliver of light at the frame.

“Run, Nikki,” Griffin shouted through the door.

Jagged keys bit into the flesh of her palm. Shoes dragged in uneven steps, backing her away from the door.

A fist pounded against the steel, and Griffin bellowed, “Run!”

Demonic growling filled the air around her and Nikki did as Griffin told her.

She left him behind.

* * *

There were few moments when Amsterdam wished the modern world was aware of the existence of Vampires, but he found himself having that desire now. It would mean they would have invented a phone casing capable of being chucked across the room and not obliterated by his inhuman strength. Unfortunately, cell phones were too much of a pain to replace every other day, so his stayed intact in his grasp.

There was a tiny new crack in the screen though. Perhaps he wasn’t as good at controlling himself as he thought.

Tapping the keypad as gently as he could, he redialed Griffin’s number for the fourth time and waited for the inevitable.

“You’ve reached Griffin O’Connor. I’m unable to come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I’ll get back-”

John ended the call and exhaled through his nose, jaw clenching.

This wasn’t the kind of news to be left on an automated voicemail service, and it was certainly too urgent to wait much longer. He dialed again.

“For God’s sake,” he growled, swiping his thumb over the end call button.

As a last stitch effort, he scrolled through his contact list, scanning the names. He was almost certain Griffin had given him the number in case of an emergency…

Double tapping the icon, he pressed the phone to his ear and waited.

“You’ve released Boz the computer genie, what are your three wishes?”

“Ah…” John drew his brows down in confusion. “Boz Cavaletti?”

“Speaking.”

“This is John Amsterdam.”

“Oh, yeah, hey John! How’s it going man?” He crunched down on a mouthful of what sounded like popcorn and smacked his lips. John struggled not to be horrified by his manners.

“I was trying to get in touch with Griffin,” John said, pacing in front of his windows.

“Oh, sorry I’m not with him. I’m out dealing with something in Queens,” Boz said. There was a moment of tense silence before he continued. “Wait, is Griff not answering his phone?”

“I’ve called several times, but I only got his voicemail. Is he with Lisa?”

John could hear the creak of a desk chair and fingers typing over a keyboard. “No, she’s out on patrol.”

“And Nikki?” John glanced over the nearby rooftops at the small collection of rainclouds in the distance.

“She’s still with Griffin,” Boz answered, still typing.

A pit of cement took form in John’s stomach. “Oh.”

“Do me a favor and put me on hold while you call him again, ‘kay?” Boz asked and John could hear the sequence of keys being hit. It had the cadence of someone typing in a specific password.

“Of course, just a moment,” John said. Touching another icon on the screen he brought up the call log and hit redial. Ring… Ring… Ring…

He switched to the other line. “It’s still his voicemail.”

“That’s okay, I traced the signal,” Boz told him. “I gotta go. Thanks John.”

“Yes, but-”

The line cut out and John was left staring at his phone.

With yet another crack in the screen.

* * *

Breathing wasn’t easy.

The act of it was. Cyclical patterns of inhaling and exhaling that continued without conscious effort- that was easy. But once the brain and body disagreed, things became difficult.

Breathing when every nerve ending rejected its simplicity and lungs begged to let loose in a torrent of screams or sobs or both, was another matter.

Nikki stood with her hand tightening compulsively on the door handle, gulping down air and forcing it out. He told her to do it. He had told her to leave. Thrown her into the stairwell and ordered her to run.

She could hear the noise from the city outside, just on the other side of the gray metal expanse in front of her. Pressing her forehead to the door jam, she listened to the passing cars and pedestrians. The van was parked only a block away. She could make it there safely in less than two minutes.

Except… she couldn’t. She couldn’t run.

“Goddamn it,” she snapped, releasing the knob and spinning the opposite direction.

Her speed wasn’t anything to be envious of, but at least her legs felt steadier than moments earlier. She climbed each flight taking two steps at a time, using the banister to pull herself along. Nikki stopped when she reached the floor Griffin had last been on, and tested the door handle. It was still locked.

Silence. She held her breath, hoping to hear some faint noise of life, but…

He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. He ran… lead them away from her….

Stamping down the panic, Nikki started running again, up two more floors to where Doctor Oliver’s office was located. If the pack was chasing Griffin she doubted they’d loop back to where they’d started. Racing as quietly as she could down the corridor, she glanced into each examination room in case anyone was lingering, but the whole floor had cleared out.

She rounded the corner, heart dropping at the sight of nurse Linda’s corpse angled grotesquely between the reception desk and the wall. Nikki looked around again before ducking into Doctor Oliver’s office and heading for the desk.

She’d thought the doctor would’ve had a letter opener or a tool kit hidden in a drawer somewhere- any sharp object she could use to defend herself. But all she found were loose paper clips and the occasional staple. Not exactly Vampire resistant.

Finally, under a stack of printer paper, she found a box cutter with a retractable blade.

“That’s stealing you know.”

Nikki jerked her head up as Doctor Oliver moved further into the room… with a revolver gripped at his side.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” the doctor continued, with eyes wide. “I wasn’t prepared.”

Nikki could only stare at the older man. She wanted to ask what he meant, but the glinting lethal promise he clutched in his hand kept her silent.

“My Master warned me,” Doctor Oliver said. “He told me to push you, to jab at you like a rancher does to cattle, herding them along.” A manic grin split his face and he chuckled darkly. “But instead I opened the gate and let you run wild.”

“What do you mean?” Nikki asked, in spite of her fear.

“I betrayed the cause,” Doctor Oliver answered. “Your legend was meant to end in bloodshed. But now you know too much. You were never meant to know!”

Nikki locked her stare on the muzzle of the gun, now aimed squarely at her chest.

She felt utterly small in that moment. A speck cast into the void. At the mercy of every imaginable influence. And everything went still.

“You don’t have to do this.” The words were firm as they passed over her lips. “Rex doesn’t own you. He can’t make you do anything. You still have a choice.”

The doctor laughed and the sound fell around her like glass shards. “I am bound by loyalty.”

“It seems to me a man that cruel isn’t deserving of your loyalty.”

“Watch it,” Doctor Oliver shouted, taking a step forward. “You don’t speak of my Master that way. He has done everything necessary to bring about a new empire. Nothing great was ever constructed without bone dust.”

“And this empire of his,” she started. “It’s my bone dust that will help make it?”

“The extinguishing of your flame will forge his steel.”

Nikki’s jaw tensed. More riddles, she thought.

“So, I’m special. I get that,” she said, taking half a step to the left. “But is killing me really worth all destruction he’s already caused? I’m just one woman.”

“You’re more than that,” the doctor blurted. “You’re a Luminari. The rarest of embers made to spark a war.”

Nikki frowned, his words taking root in her core. The familiarity was as if he was reciting a poem she’d heard before, but had since forgotten.

Doctor Oliver advanced another pace, adjusting his grip on the revolver. “But my Master will prevail. He always has.” His dark gaze held hers for a moment before he said, “I can see it… your fear of what’s coiled up inside you. It’s already started to work against you.” His eyes flicked to the red stain on her hand. “You’re already losing the battle.”

Nikki clenched her fist against her thigh. The shadows edging his words were filled with a mangled truth she wanted to understand, but knew she’d never be able to.

The smile that curved across Doctor Oliver’s face was one of bitter acceptance.

“At least my death will be quick,” he said, just before he jammed the muzzle under his chin and pulled the trigger.

The doctor’s body arched backwards, a spray of red and gray erupting along the wall behind him, just before he crumpled to the floor. Bone chips scattered throughout the river of blood pouring from the top of his head, adding a sickening topography to the white carpet.

Clamping her hands over her mouth, Nikki cut off her scream, but that didn’t stop the broken groans slipping between her fingers. She closed her eyes, but those few seconds replayed over and over until she was certain she would be sick.

Breathe… she needed to breathe.

And she had to focus.

She needed to find Griffin.

With shaking legs, Nikki skirted around the doctor’s body and ran from the room, box cutter in hand. She sprinted to the other end of the hall and took a left towards the second flight of emergency stairs and down three floors to a vacant hall that had just finished with construction.

She heard him before she saw him.

Halfway down the corridor, around the corner in the open cubicle space- That’s where she heard the chaotic sounds that made her heart fall into her gut.

Keeping herself close to the wall, she glanced around the corner at the ongoing brawl. Griffin was surrounded by eight Newborns, all of whom were taking their turns to attack in short bursts, wearing him down. He was holding his own, but Nikki could tell he was exhausting himself. Not to mention the injuries he’d already sustained. His lip was bloodied, and bruises were forming along his jaw and cheek.

The female in red plaid with ink black hair pounced on Griffin, delivering multiple expert blows that ended with a nauseating pop of his left shoulder. Griffin shouted in pain and folded in on himself so severely Nikki thought he’d fall to the floor. But then he was upright and slicing at anything near him with his blade, cutting into two males.

It still wasn’t enough. Griffin wouldn’t last much longer on his own.

I’ve seen Newborns rip each other apart over a drop of fresh blood…

They were his words, said only as an example of Vampire cruelty.

Nikki really hoped it wasn’t an exaggeration.

Staring down at the box cutter in her grip, she inhaled and leaned back against the wall. With the pad of her thumb she slid the blade up through the handle and laid its edge against her left palm. Searing pain burned along her hand, followed by a thin red line that welled over onto the floor.

Taking one last fortifying breath, Nikki stepped out of her hiding spot into the middle of the hallway.

“Hey,” she shouted, catching the attention of several Vampires. They lifted their heads, scenting the air and growling.

Holding up her wounded hand, she called out, “You want some?”, blood trickling down her wrist.

A group of four swiveled around, watching each other as they prowled closer.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Nikki coaxed. “Come and get it.”

A behemoth of a male, with broad shoulders and thick neck, took the first step out of formation and two females turned on him. One with blonde curls and the other a short brown bob, leapt onto his back and sank their fangs into sinewy muscle. The brunette ripped a hunk of flesh out of his shoulder, spitting it on the ground while the blonde had her fingers jammed into his eye sockets, plucking the gooey membranes from their cavities. He wailed in agony as he fell to knees, blood streaming down his face.

A leaner male with long dark hair took the opportunity to run at Nikki, only to have the brunette female give up the other male’s shoulder she was gnawing on to go after him. She swung at him, tackling him to the ground, but he flipped her and punched his fists through her ribcage like it was made of tooth picks. Twisting, he pulled out a mass of arteries and fibrous muscle tissue and crushed it in his hand. The female turned to ash underneath his boot as he stood.

Nikki could barely hear Griffin shouting at her over her pulse drumming in her ears. She clenched her fist and blood seeped through her knuckles. She just needed to give Griffin time…

Hair like the wings of a crow spread out across the male’s shoulders, his white eyes locked on her throat as he stalked closer.

Three… Two…

“Come on,” Nikki shouted before spinning on her heel and bolting down the corridor.

Blood splattered the floor, leaving a trail as she ran. Heavy foot falls were gaining on her at a pace that made her sick with panic. Her legs ached and her joints burned as she hung a right down a perpendicular hallway. She wasn’t going to be able to outrun him. She could already feel weakness taking hold, weighing her down.

Going left, she expected another long corridor but pulled up short in a dead end supply closet. Several meters away she heard his low icy chuckle. She was trapped, and the male knew it too.

A fire extinguisher hung in its case by the closet door, and she wrenched it free. Bloodied fingers yanked out the pin and gripped the nozzle, ready to squeeze the handle.

Nikki held her breath, watching the top of his shadow sweep across the wall and around the corner. Rushing forward, she aimed the hose, releasing a cloud of nitrogen gas directly into the male’s eyes. He cried out, covering his face with his hands, stumbling back.

Using both hands, Nikki swung the extinguisher like a baseball bat. The dense cylinder made contact with his chin, toppling him over with a satisfying crack. Dropping the extinguisher, she started to run, but he caught her by the ankle and dragged her to the floor.

Nikki screamed, digging her nails into the carpet as he hauled her back. She was flipped in an instant and he was over top of her, grabbing her legs and kneeing them apart. Throwing her elbow into his throat she was able to wriggle away, enough to rear back and kick him in the chest. She kicked again and rolled onto her stomach, crawling towards her box cutter. Just as her fingertips brushed the handle, he caught her by her calf and she felt his fangs shred the hem of her pants leg.

Fevered heat blasted through Nikki, and in a powerful thrust her heel found the underside of his jaw, bone cracking like ice. He roared and lunged forward, grabbing her arm. Contorting out of his grasp, she sliced the blade through the corded muscle of his bicep before angling upwards and stabbing him in the left eye. Kneeing him in the ribs, she leveraged his weight off of her and pinned him to the floor. She brought the box cutter down again, this time severing the main arteries in his neck and cutting through his vocal cords. Pulling the blade free, she stumbled away, tripping over his torso as she tried to regain her footing and make a run for it.

Someone caught her by the elbow, pulling her into the doorway of one of the offices, shoving her back. Her head swam and she slid to the floor, leaning against the doorframe. Long brown hair tied back in a ponytail billowed out as the woman disappeared around the other side of the wall.

Woman?

Two rapid gunshots fired, then a pause, followed by two more.

And finally, silence.

Nikki tried to get to her feet when Lisa appeared in the doorway, slipping her Glock back into its holster. Crouching down, she extended her hand to Nikki.

“You okay?”

Nikki was vaguely aware she was nodding. “I…”

“What happened?” Lisa asked, inspecting her wounded hand.

Hearing two other sets of footsteps, Nikki turned as Griffin and another woman rounded the corner.

The newcomer regarded Nikki with bright hazel eyes set against tan skin and thick black hair. She stared at her with curiosity and Nikki felt an eerie familiarity. This woman was looking at her just as Griffin had that first day in the coffee shop.

At the thought, Nikki glanced to Griffin, who hung back a few paces. Bloodied and exhausted, he cradled his left arm to his abdomen and stood favoring the same side. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. He simply stared into space several inches to her right, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.

“Nikki?” Lisa tilted her head. “What happened?”

Her voice as hollow as she felt, Nikki said, “I cut myself.”

#Children of Lilith #free novels for pandemic times #free fiction #my work #my writing

1 note · View note

angstmongertina · 6 years ago

Text

7KPP Week 2019: Day 7

Last day of the appreciation week (that I am absolutely late for)! Aaaaand, of course, I have to finish on angst, because of who I fundamentally am as a person. This is actually probably going to end up being my “canon” version of Lia and Lyon, just because it makes sense the way I’ve been developing her out. And because I’m just a little angstmonger. Whoops.

Ummmm, enjoy? Maybe?

AO3 Link

Day 7 - Happily Ever After??? (Angst || Fluff)

It was a moment of idle curiosity that had Lyon watching the carriage coming to a stop before his at the opera house.

Around him, people swarmed towards the brightly lit entrance, all dressed in their finest gowns and pressed jackets, mingling and catching up with acquaintances on their way to the performance. After all, the opening night of the new season was the event of the year and it seemed anyone who had the means of attending had done so, if the slow progression of carriages was any indication.

It was almost enough to convince him to return back to his estate and put any thoughts of socializing out of his mind. Particularly since his return from the Seven Kingdoms Summit without a bride in tow had somehow convinced the young ladies of the Jiyelese elite that he was still unattached. Why they had fixated on him, despite all of the more eligible and interested men in their acquaintance, he would never understand but without even leaving the sanctuary of his hansom, he could see more than a few eyes recognize his family’s crest and turn his way.

But it was his one concession to his duty, to the Crown’s increasingly insistent reminders that he find a wife and produce an heir, that forced him to suffer through the appearance and those trying in vain to earn his affection in exchange for a year’s reprieve. Never mind that, four years earlier, it was in some ways the very same Crown that had denied him what they now insisted he must seek…

But to dwell on it would be illogical and, as the line crawled forward, he shook his head, eyes landing once again on the carriage before his. The crest was unfamiliar, though considering his lack of interest in interacting with much of Jiyel’s peerage, that meant very little. That its occupants had elected to arrive early rather than society’s preferred fashionably late was another point in their favor and, for one moment of atypical fascination, he watched the carriage door open, contemplating the wisdom of attempting to form a new acquaintance.

Any thoughts on the matter dissipated from his mind as a passenger emerged and reached to assist his companion, not releasing her hand until they had moved off the street. Murmuring something, the man disappeared from sight, but Lyon barely noticed his departure as he stared at the woman standing with her back to him. Clad in a vibrant purple, her slender form should have been easily swallowed by the crowds, or at least would have been if not for her pale updo, the bright white at once unusual and impossibly, heart-wrenchingly familiar.

He was standing on the cobblestone before he was fully aware of moving, not noticing his driver’s question or the carriage pull away. Around him, several pedestrians paused, no doubt recognizing him, but even with what seemed to be the entire population of the city gathered at the opera house, he only saw her.

Lady Camellia.

She had not much changed, was still instantly recognizable despite the years since their short… acquaintance. Her movements were still fluid, manners unassuming as she shifted to stay out of the way of passersby. Her shock still remained solely in her widening eyes and quiet inhale when he called her name and she turned around.

“Duke Lyon?” Her face smoothed back into inscrutability. “It has been some time.”

“Indeed. Not since the Summit, I believe.”

Was it his imagination or did she seem to grow paler?

He took a deep breath, watching as her fingers fidgeted on her fan, tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm in the long silence. “You… You are well?”

A polite smile tugged at the corners of her lips, cool and reserved. “Well enough. And you?”

“...well enough.” He shrugged, though his chest tightened at the way her gaze softened, genuine amusement flitting across her features. After another long moment, he cleared his throat. “And… And your family?”

At that, her expression visibly faltered, smile falling for a heartbeat, so quickly that he might have missed it were he not already familiar with her mannerisms. “Satisfactory.” She paused, drawing a slow breath. “It is very kind of you to ask.”

He swallowed. “That is… good to hear.”

Her returning smile did not quite reach her eyes, nor disguise the glimmer of something, raw and jagged, in their depths, that, as illogical as it was, he both longed and feared to identify. As if noticing his scrutiny, she bit her lip and looked away… though despite the heavy silence, she seemed no more eager to leave the conversation than he.

Finally, he opened his mouth, but before he even knew what he wished to say, another voice spoke up, warm and cheerful. “Sorry about that! Olivier insisted that we catch up and it took longer than I expected. Though I see you’ve found a friend as well!”

If possible, she turned even paler, eyes darting to the newcomer.

Lyon followed her gaze to find the gentleman from earlier smiling at the pair of them, a friendly, open expression. Standing a few scant centimeters shorter than him, the man was carefully dressed and polished, dark hair trimmed neatly and cravat chosen to match her gown. Apparently oblivious, or perhaps immune, to the oppressive weight of the air around them, he grinned wider and held out his hand. “Would you mind introducing us, my dear?”

“Oh, of course!” She hesitated, so slightly that it could very well have been unintentional, and smiled, a mask of cordiality firmly back in place. “Lord Randall, this is Duke Lyon, a friend I met at the Seven Kingdoms Summit.”

Recognition lit in the steady brown eyes that met his, respectful and companionable. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, your Grace. I’ve heard many good things about you.”

When he said nothing, Lady Camellia drew a deep breath, eyes shifting from him to Randall in quick succession. “And your Grace, this is my betrothed, Lord Randall.”

She might have said more, but he heard nothing else, drowned out by his thundering heartbeat and the single word rattling through his mind.

Betrothed.

It was instinct that directed his arm out for the brief handshake, that had him murmur… something that must have been polite enough, at least for his own taciturn reputation. It was instinct that kept his voice steady as they said their farewells, as he finally noticed the ring sparkling on her finger when she walked away, arm in arm with her fiancé.

And it was instinct that kept his features impassive, throughout the agonizingly long concert and ride home, until he could lock himself in his chambers, ignoring the faintly worried expressions of his servants, and lower his face into his trembling hands.

(Bonus)

The announcement barely made the paper, tucked into a corner where none save those who were looking for it would find it. After all, in the grand scheme of things, the quiet wedding of a lady of no name to a lord of little more could hardly draw any attention from the vast majority of Jiyelese society.

Of course, he had seen it, traitorous eyes scanning every page in spite of all of his best efforts to avoid it. And so, the small assembly hall temporarily hosted an extra, silent guest that night, who, while the ceremony was ongoing, slipped in just long enough to leave an anonymous gift of an ivory onvu set and a small collection of rare books.

He was impressed but hardly surprised to receive a heartfelt note of appreciation in the mail only a short week later.

#7KPP Week 2019 #Duke Lyon #Duke Lyon/Jiyel Scholar #Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem #7KPP #Tina writes stuff.#Tina plays 7KPP.#awkward duke of my heart #otp: not intolerable #otp: til death do us part #Lady Camellia of Jiyel

6 notes · View notes

smilingformoney · 6 years ago

Text

America’s Most Eligible 2 Diamond Scene: Dream Suite with Adam

You reach for Adam’s hand and give it a squeeze. You: C’mon, Adam. Let’s go celebrate us. Adam: I’d love nothing more. Eden/Heath: In that case, I’ll make sure no one goes looking for you! Hand-in-hand, the two of you make your way upstairs to the Dream Suite.

You tumble into the Dream Suite with Adam, wrapped in each other’s arms. Adam: You know, I still can’t believe my luck. How’d a guy like me end up with a catch like you? You: By being irresistibly charming, obviously. But now that you’ve caught me… what are you gonna do with me? Adam: Marry you is obviously number one on the list. But since that’s going to take some time, I’ll settle for kissing you senseless. You: That’s cute… but I think I have a better idea.

You: Why don’t you… -Give me a striptease?

Adam smirks. Adam: I’m really liking how our engagement is going so far. He obediently backs away from you, swaying his hips from side to side as he starts to loosen his tie. You: Same. Grinding to a silent beat, Adam lets his suit jacket slide off his muscular back. The shirt follows next, which he gives a joyful spin above his head before letting it drop. You: My fiancé is a stud! Magic Mike whom? Adam laughs and teases off the last of his clothing, standing before you with nothing but a smile. Adam: So how’d I do? You: Do you do bachelor and bachelorette parties? Because I have one coming up… Adam: Ha, ha. Your turn. He leans in for a hungry kiss before you shred your clothing in turn.

-Come and take these clothes off me?

Adam: Wow. That’s definitely a better idea. He leans forward and kisses you slowly, deeply. As warmth unfurls through you, his nimble fingers start to tease the clothing off your body. You: Adam… Shivers run up and down your spine as his hands glide over your skin. Soon, your clothing falls into a puddle on the floor, and you’re close to doing the same. Adam: There you are. Any more bright ideas? You: Mmm, let me think. What if you weren’t wearing clothes either? Adam: You and your good ideas. This is why we’re getting married. Adam sheds his clothing with astonishing speed, staggering a little with eager clumsiness as he kicks off his pants.

Adam: Now it’s just you and me. No cameras. No audience. Adam wraps his arms around you, tilting your chin up for a kiss. Adam: If this is the first taste of our life together, I want to savour it for as long as possible. His lips descend on your neck, and your breath hitches as he nips at the sensitive skin there. You: I like it when you say that. ‘Our life together.’ Adam: God, even now with you in my arms it feels too good to be true. I can barely even begin to imagine it. You: Well, why don’t we try to? You up for a little roleplay? Adam: Like playing house? I can get into it.

You: Let’s pretend… -You’ve just come home from a hard day.

Adam: I’ll give it a shot. Adam pulls away, trying to school his expression. You: Welcome back, sweetie. How was work at the vet’s office? Adam turns back to you with an exaggerated sigh. Adam: Exhausting, darling. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day. You: Poor baby. Sounds like you really need some TLC. You give Adam a sympathetic peck on the cheek before leading him to the hot tub steaming gently in the suite. You push him gently into the water. You: Leave it all to me. I have just the thing. Adam: After all this time, you always know how to take care of me. As Adam relaxes against the side of the tub, you kiss the back of his neck and you massage the tension out of his shoulders. Adam: Jamie… Mmm… That feels amazing. You’re too good to me. You: Damn right I am. You slowly sink down into tub beside him.

-It’s our ten-year anniversary.

Adam: Our anniversary? You give a gasp of mock outrage. You: Don’t tell me your forgot the happiest day of your life! Laughing, Adam cups your face in his hands and presses gentle, loving kisses to your lips, temples, eyelids. Adam: Hardly. Marrying you wan only the first of ten years’ worth of happy days. And I’ll make you remember every single one. Adam bends his knees, and you give a ‘whoop’ of surprise as he lifts you into his arms. Adam: Let’s celebrate these past ten years properly. Beaming, you lean into his chest as he carries you over to the hot tub steaming gently in the corner. He lowers you both into the water.

You: Ahhhhh… Adam: If I wasn’t already excited about our future together, I certainly am now. Adam reaches for you and pulls you into his lap. Adam: Let’s see just how much more excited we can get. As you lean over him, he blazes a trail of kisses from your neck to your chest that leaves you shivering with pleasure as the water ripples around you. Adam: Tell me what you want.

You: I really want to… -Get wild with you.

Adam: Don’t have to tell me twice. Adam pulls you hard against him with one hand while turning on the jets with the other. The water bubbles and foams all around you. You: Adam… Adam captures your mouth with his own, and slips a hand under the water. You swallow a gasp. You: Oh! Adam: We’re the only ones here… Don’t hold back for me… You: Adam… Adam’s touch, the feel of his mouth on your neck, and the pulse of the jets all around you sends waves of pleasure building inside you. Adam: Yes… Jamie… Adam groans as your hips start to buck against his. You: Yes… Yes… You and Adam cling to each other as ecstasy overtakes you in a blinding rush…

-Relax with you.

You: This night has been exciting in the best way, but I’m exhausted. Right now, I just want to soak in it with you. Adam: Absolutely. We’ve more than earned some quiet time to ourselves. You sink deeper into the warm water and lean your head on his shoulder. He sighs contentedly and wraps an arm around you. You: It’s good to see you so relaxed. Adam: That’s another thing that’s thanks to you. You: Me? How? Adam: Vince and Sierra’s betrayal… I don’t think I really understood how deeply it affected me until I met you. Adam: Falling in love with you felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. A weight I’d been carrying for a really long time. Adam: That’s when I realised my cynicism had been hurting me more than it had been helping me. You: constantly expecting a knife in the back can cause such a crick in the neck. Adam: Right? But being with you, knowing you’re in my corner no matter what, I feel like I can do anything. Be anything. Adam: And right now, I can’t wait to be your husband. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple, and the two of you cuddle closer as the night stretches on…

Some time later, you and Adam step out of the hot tub, towel each other off, and head back to the bed to curl up under the covers. After a few minutes of dozing, you snuggle against Adam, who’s gazing pensively at the ceiling. You: Penny for your thoughts? Adam: You can keep your pennies. I’ll cough it up for free. Adam: This season, I spent a lot of time thinking that once the show ends, life will finally go back to normal. Adam: But I’ve realised I really don’t know what normal means anymore. You: How so? Adam: Once we’re off the show for good, is life going to settle down… or will it always be a rollercoaster? You: That’s just it, Adam. After AME the choice will be up to us.

You: I’m sure… -We’ll have plenty of peace and quiet.

You: It’ll be nice to enjoy a night out without worrying about cameras in our faces. Adam: And having cocktails without checking to see if Slater’s poured eyedrops in them. You: And have friends over without feeling we have to curry favour in order to get the votes we need. Adam: You’ll always have my vote.

-Our adventure’s just beginning.

You: Between you and me, I’m pretty sure we make enough trouble to keep ourselves entertained. You: We don’t need Omar and Carson bossing us around to make things exciting. Adam: Don’t knock it. That’s probably somebody’s kink.

You burst into laughter before glancing at the time. You: I don’t want this moment to end… but I think we better head back to the others. Adam: Don’t worry about it. We’ve got a lot more moments head of us. After sharing one last kiss, the two of you get dressed and head back down to join the rest of the cast.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices ame #choices america’s most eligible #america's most eligible

3 notes · View notes

somethingaboutklance · 7 years ago

Text

This is a little ficlet for @drippingpen / @letlancelive. It was supposed to be a Christmas present but I’m trash and late so whoops, happy new year?

Have Keith and Lance going on a cute arcade date!

“I let you win, you know.” Lance said, pouting at his score sheet.

“Sure you did,” Keith smirked at his 1st place in laser tag. He only scored ten points above Lance, but a win was a win.

“Yeah! I was protecting you from the children!” Lance explained, “If it weren’t for me, they would have destroyed you.”

“Maybe not destroyed, but I’ll give it to you since they did all gang up on you.”

Lance shook his head, “Being ‘good with kids’ is a slippery slope for five eight year olds pinning you down and shooting you repeatedly.”

“You trash talked them.”

“I was trying to make to bond with them! I didn’t know they were tiny evil soldiers.”

Keith rolled his eyes and took his boyfriend’s hand, “What else do you want to do?”

The boys scanned the small arcade while neon lights drew their eyes to each game. A group of children ran around, feet pounding on the eccentric patterned carpet, asking each other for extra coins while their parents watched from the tables. Lance and Keith were probably the oldest players in the space, but they wouldn’t let that ruin their fun.

After roaming through the maze of pinball machines and vintage Pac-Man, the couple landed at an air hockey table. Space-themed with blinking red and blue lights on either side, it was begging for contenders. Four coins for two rounds, Lance smirked, “How about this?”

Keith planted himself at the far end of the table, where the red lights danced on his face as he gripped the paddle, “Let’s go.”

Lance slid the coins into the machine as he said, “Don’t be a sore loser.”

Keith scoffed as he watched Lance take his side, starting with the puck. Keith squinted, “Just start,”

“Whatever you say, sore loser,” Lance let the puck loose.

“I’m not a-”

Within the moment, Lance got a point.

“That’s not fair!”

As the electronic scoring charts spazzed at Lance’s side was given one point. Keith scowled and he took his turn starting with the puck.

No more than two minutes later, Lance won 7-4.

Keith groaned, “Why are you so good at this?!”

Lance gestured to the score chart, which was resetting itself for a rematch. The table turned on again, the electric buzzing began as the handles and puck slide with the static. Lance smiled, “Maybe it was beginner's luck. Go again?”

Keith huffed, “Yes.”

The following match took more time, as the two sides were already warmed up. Still, skill trumps passion and Lance won again.

Keith crossed his arms, “I hate this game.”

“Aw,” Lance skipped over and embraced his pouty boyfriend, “Let’s play another game. I bet you can pulverize me at those racing games.”

Finding the nearest Mario Kart system, Keith grabbed Lance’s hand and pulled, “We are going on Rainbow Road.”

“No!”

They hop from game to game, Lance winning at the shooting one while Keith does oddly well at the mini basketball hoops. With only a handful of tokens left, Lance stopped at the claw machines.

He pressed himself against the glass, peering down to see all the stuffed animals eligible to be won.

“Look at that little snowman!” Lance pointed in the direction of a dozen snowmen plushies, “These games are always rigged but my cousin, Joey, he’s a master at them. I think he’s a magician or something.”

“Lemme see,” Keith peered at one of the more available toys, a small snowman with a blue scarf and Christmas-themed chef hat. It was ridiculous and useless, but it was only two coins to play.

Lance scoffed, “Good luck,”

Keith took a breath then moved the claw around the cage. Luckily the claw was small and thick enough to give them a chance, unlike the loose, thin claws that couldn’t hold anything if their lives depended on it. Keith took the time to align the toy and the grabber as perfectly as he could before he pressed the button to seal the deal.

The claw held on to the toy for only a moment before slipping through it’s grasp.

Lance sighed dramatically as the claw returned empty, “That’s how they get you Keithy-boy, now come on, we have like ten coins left. Wanna play air hockey again?”

Keith grabbed two more coins, “Just...let me try one more time.”

“Whatever you say, but that’s just two less coins for me to mow your ass.”

“I don’t think that’s how that phrase is used,” Keith put the two coins in the machine, and grabbed the handle for the claw that stared him down.

Steady, he positioned the claw, then he walked around to the side of the machine to be sure he was right. Happy with himself, he came back and pressed the button.

With their breaths held, they watched as the claw reached, closed, and captured the snowman. With wide eyes, they watched as the snowman was lifted up away from it’s fellow prizes, carried over and dropped into the receiving slot.

“Ohhhhh!” Lance yelled and jumped.

Keith laughed, “For you.”

Lance hugged the tiny toy to his chest, “Ah! That’s so awesome! Now I have to get you one!”

Keith realized his mistake, “Oh-uh-you don’t have to.”

Lance was already putting the coins into the slot, “Nah, it’ll be easy, you got yours in two tries, I bet I can get it in one.”

Keith laughed nervously and looked around, “Hey, how about we play another shooting game? That Jurassic Park one is finally open.”

“Maybe after,” Lance focused intently on the placement of the claw, “I’m gonna get this guy! He’ll match mine!”

Keith gave up and attempted to help Lance position the claw as accurately as possible.

Four tries later, Lance hung his head in shame as he approached the front desk clerk and bought three dollars worth of tokens.

Cup full of coins, Keith tugged on Lance’s jacket as he marched back to the claw machine. Keith bartered, “Listen, you don’t have to get one for me. Actually, I-I don’t want one.”

Lance looked down to Keith, painful expression on his face, “Keith, at this point, it doesn’t matter if you want one or not. It’s pride, babe. I’ve worked this hard, who am I if I give up now?”

“Three dollars richer.”

Lance shook his head. He stopped in front of the machine, it’s pink lights and cute flower designs striking fear in his heart. He cracked his knuckles, “It’s time.”

Keith leaned against the machine, “Here we go.”

Lance inserted the money and hunched down. As Keith stood on the side, Lance was navigated on where to go.

The claw dropped, grabbed, and slipped.

Lance banged his head on the button in distress.

Suddenly, Keith tugged on his collar, pulling him up. He pointed inside the machine.

Lance gasped, how could he be so blind?

With all of Lance’s attempts grabbing the snowman that matched his own perfectly, he didn’t see the one across the cage, a snowman with a red scarf and black top hat. A new friend. The plushie was sitting face down, completely free of anything in its way.

“He’s ready.” Keith said, as if commenting on the ripeness of a new harvest of fruits.

Lance swallowed and began aligning the claw for the new goal.

He looked at Keith, who inspected the scene. With completely trust, Lance waited for Keith’s nod, then pressed the button.

They watched as the claw easily slide down, and grabbed hold of the toy tightly as if it was meant to be. It carried it over like a helicopter staging a rescue, and safely delivered it home.

Lance shouted and whoops as he collected his prize. He giddly shoved it in Keith’s hands, who was doubled over laughing at his boyfriend’s display.

“Okay, okay,” Keith wipes his eyes, “You won, are we done with this now?”

Lance nodded, “Oh yeah, for sure, let’s go.”

Later in the car, the two were comparing their prizes while parked in the lot. The stationary lamps posts created spotlights in the night while the heavy noise of the motor buzzed in the background.

Pointing to the plushie in Keith’s hands, Lance said, “His name is Seb, he’s our son.”

“Is yours our son too? Because his name is Albert.” Keith said.

Lance shook his head, “No, no, Albert is our son in law. They are gay for each other.”

“I’ll dig that.” Keith agreed.

“I had fun,” Lance smiled, leaning towards Keith in the driver’s seat.

Keith arched an eyebrow, “Even though I beat you at pretty much everything?”

Lance groaned, “I was trying to have a moment!”

Laughing, Keith leaned forward and kissed Lance softly.

Humming into the kiss, Lance pulled back and nodded, “And I totally mowed your ass at air hockey.”

“I’m leaving you.” Keith pulled back and started up the car, putting it into reverse, “I’m never playing anything with you ever again.”

“Ha! Told you! You’re a sore loser!”

“Get out of my car.”

“I love you too.”

#klance #keith #lance #arcade #@drippingpen #<3 #know it's not much #but i hope it makes you smile #voltron #fic #my works #new year

6 notes · View notes

thegayemu · 5 years ago

Text

My finger slipped and whoops I uhh kinda wrote the first chapter of this

Freddy had just gotten home from work, flipping through his mail idly as he walked down the hallway to his apartment. Bill. Student loan. Another fucking takeout menu. Bill. He slid the key into the lock and shoved through the door, and he was about to toss the stack of mail onto the little shelf in the vestibule when it caught his eye. The usual heraldic banner of UMD mail, probably just shilling for money he didn't have, but two simple words set this letter apart. Free. Tuition.

He tore into the letter fervently, collapsing onto his couch. "Happy birthday," he read aloud. "The University of Maryland is excited to help you celebrate by inviting you to join our Golden ID program." He paused. He'd just turned 24, he hadn't set foot on campus in three years. What made him suddenly so special? "You might be eligible for free tuition. Our records indicate that you have previously attended the University of Maryland, and have recently turned 60." He nearly choked. Sixty? There had to be a mistake. He turned the letter over and, sure enough, Frederick Thomas Tuckerman was printed just as it was on every other letter he received from them. He scoured the letter further and, finally, spotted the mistake. They'd transposed his birth year, taking 1995 and managing to arrive at 1959. He rubbed his hand along his jaw and tossed the letter on the coffee table, reaching for his laptop.

If you asked, Freddy would tell you it was a hard decision, and it took him countless hours of careful deliberation. The truth is, he was on the phone with admissions before he even realized he'd even dialed the number. A bright and uncomfortably cheerful voice greeted him on the other end. He cleared his throat, trying to channel a newly-sixty-year-old. The cigarette after work helped.

"My name is Frederick Tuckerman; I recently received a letter about the Golden ID program," he started simply. Less talking was probably for the better.

"Mr. Tuckerman, of course. Are you interested in registering? According to the information we have on record, you would be eligible for free tuition," the voice on the other end asked, and he froze. This could be it. Take the classes online, finish his degree, pay off his loans. Finally have a life.

"I would be interested in registering," he replied, taking a deep breath. "If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," he added, trying his best to sound like his grandpa, the late, great Cornell Tuckerman Sr.

"That's fantastic!" the voice exclaimed. "Would you like to continue your bachelor's in business administration? I see you're only twelve credits away from completion."

"Yes," he nearly shouted, gripping his forearm to ground himself. He wondered, for a moment, if Cornell Sr. would be proud of him.

"That's great. Let me just schedule you for your enrollment appointment and -" He stopped listening. He couldn't go in person. He was pretty obviously definitely not sixty.

"That won't be necessary," he insisted. "I'll just have my grandson help me figure it out on the internet." To his relief, she obliged, leaving him to explore the 14-page welcome packet PDF. Of course, he didn't bother to read the fine print until he was about to register for his classes. And, of course, there was a problem. A big one. Online courses are not eligible for free tuition through the Golden ID program. Pretending to be a senior citizen for the next four months suddenly got a lot more complicated.

Yesterday I overheard someone talking about how he was taking classes at the University of Maryland because they offer free tuition if you’re over 60.

My brain IMMEDIATELY began scripting a screwball comedy in which a broke millennial who desperately want to finish his long-abandoned degree but is drowning in student debt pretends to be a senior citizen in order to attend college for free.

I’m picturing someone Channing Tatumesque, applying age makeup every morning before he heads off to class. It’s sort of a cross between 21 Jump Street and Mrs. Doubtfire. He keeps forgetting which hip is supposed to be his bad one. His classmates laugh every time he uses slang. There’s definitely a scene where he attends a college party and busts it up on the dance floor.

He catches the eye of a fellow returning student, a woman in her 50s, but she thinks he’s like 70 and she’s already buried one husband, you know? She’s not interested in doing that again. When his charade unravels (hilariously) at the end of the movie, though, she finds out he’s actually like 30 and has abs you could bounce a quarter off. And he’s still super into her. And really, maybe it’s time she gave May-December romance a chance.

#writing #fic #whoops #prompt fill

132K notes · View notes

occvltvs · 7 years ago

Text

Dream Daddy Joseph Cult Ending Text (For Reference and anyone curious)

PlayerLastName Lilley PlayerFirstName Brent c:/users/jory/ documents/ddaddsinky/cultending.ink UnityEngine.UI.MaskableGraphic+CullStateChangedEvent, UnityEngine.UI, Version=1.0.0.0, Culture=neutral, PublicKeyToken=null UnityEngine.UI.MaskableGraphic+CullStateChangedEvent, UnityEngine.UI, Version=1.0.0.0, Culture=neutral, PublicKeyToken=null Normal Highlighted Pressed Disabled ! o UnityEngine.UI.Button+ButtonClickedEvent, UnityEngine.UI, Version=1.0.0.0, Culture=neu START What time is it? Must have been asleep for ages. Yaaaaaaaawn. I wonder what will happen now that Mary is gone? What about Joseph's kids? And how will Amanda feel about all this? Well we all have each other, that's what matters. I guess time will tell right? Better get up and greet the day... Wait. Am I tied up?! What the hell?! What's going on?! How did I get here? Joseph? Anybody? Why would there be a... You're probably just dreaming, don't panic... a dungeon. An evil dungeon. Why would there be an evil dungeon here? Maybe I had too much Twilight Rouge. This can't be real. I'm dreaming or something. I can see someone at the end of the hall. It's just a shape, I can barely make out any features. "Oh I guarantee this is real." "Who's there? Can you untie me?" "It's a personal guarantee. A verbal handshake. Trust, if that's what you get off on." "I think there's been a mistake. I don't know how I got here. Please, I-." "You trust me right? I mean, why wouldn't you?" "I wish you would have warned me. Are you into this kind of thing? Jesus, what is this? Joseph?!" "Into this kind of- Hah! Ha Ha! I always liked you (player). Goal oriented, anchored by family. The rock in a shallow sea. I had a whale of a time las night. And down to pound if you catch my meaning. Get it? Whale? We talked extensively about whales last night? You don't really like them?" "I get that." "You're not in a joking mood." The way he's talking- it's- this whole situation is different. His voice is different. "Dastardly? Sadistic? It can be both. Throw another one in there. Wrathful. That one's good." Wait, how did he... "I'm very perceptive. A good listener. I heard all those impure thoughts, (player), about a married man, no less. I'm pretty sure that's a sin." "Who are you?" "I told you, I'm a cool youth minister. Have you seen my tattoos? Were you even watching me tear it up on the dance floor? Well hi, my name is Joseph. I have an alcoholic whore wife whose life I destroyed." Poor Mary! And their kids! Joseph laughs "My kids? Those aren't my kids. I guess you could call them vessels. Well they are my kids. In a way. Cosmically. And in that case I guess that technically makes me not a dad. Whoops. Sorry to kill that little fantasy for you." "Joseph, this is insane. The whole minister thing... That's just a front for this weird sex dun-." "Oh that's so cute. You think this is a sex thing." Joseph starts laughing hysterically. He wipes a tear from his eye. "I mean, it's kind of a sex thing." "(player), there are powers at work so far beyond your understanding that the very idea that I would sink to some half-baked sex game is a little insulting. All that religion mumbo-jumbo wasn't entirely false. I am a man of the cloth, just not the cloth you're thinking of. I am the conduit for something beautiful, (player). Something pure. And you have the honor of being part of it. I know that sounds kinda hokey but stick with me. I promise I'll get back to being relatably cool in a second. Where you really are is under the house. Or I guess, under the houses." "The houses!? Are we under the cul-de-sac?" "Hey, deductive reasoning! Points for (player)!" "How did nobody notice a dungeon underneath the town? Somebody would have had to" "All dead. Everyone who figured it out, that is. And it's not a dungeon. Dungeons are for old castles and twelve year olds. This place is- how would I describe it? Just think of it as the real Margarita Zone. Inhabiting many spaces. The betweens of the world. The gaps in mathematics. It's quite simply beyond you, I'm afraid." "This is too much! my head hurts." "(player), ever wonder where all the wives and husbands in town went? Why everyone's a eligible single father?" "...I just thought it was a coincidence." "Nothing's a coincidence, idiot. No town in America has such a concentration of eligible, willing Dads.And do you want to know why?" "I don't know if I do Joseph." "Because of me. Because of my work. Because of my loyalty." "Loyalty? You're insane." "Profoundly. How many couples have I pushed to divorce? How many wives and husbands have I hunted in the dark?" "Wait, Amanda's mom, Cora, it can't be!" "I unfortunately can't take credit for that one. It seems entropy beat me to the punch." "I don't know if that's a relief or not." "But man, what if I had? The look on your face would've been priceless. And all to get these very good friends of ours here, in my town, and my father's town, and his father before him. Hurting for human touch. Praying for the salvation of kindness. Maple Bay is a psychic beacon of unfathomable power, but it requires sacrifice. It needs to feed on those deep, unquenchable pangs of anguish." "I don't understand." "Of course you don't. You were out there gallivanting about, seducing all the hottest single Dads. Meddling in something you have no understanding of. A greatness you could not conceive. Out there, in the dark of the sea, lies something that has been waiting to return for a hundred million years. It showed the path to Jonah, my ancient ancestor, as it has shown the path to me. And I will fuck each Dad whose life I destroy until the shame and stink of their failures has returned our eternal king to life. The fuel of a hundred thousand rank darknesses of the soul." "Wow." "Do you have anything you'd like to say?" "I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do. What about Amanda?" "I know you're used to being in control here. But now it's my turn. And don't worry yourself about Amanda." "If I do my job, I won't have to." "Now if you'll excuse me, there's some other business I need to attend to. Your dear friend Robert has been awfully worried about you. I think it's about time that miserable drunk gets one last visit from the Dover Ghost." "This is a nightmare." "A beautiful nightmare, wouldn't you agree? All along you've been living a dream, Daddy. Now it's time to wake up." How long was I out? When is he coming back? How do I get out of here? Oh man. This is bad. This is very bad. A hand slips over my mouth. "Don't say anything. Hell, don't even think anything. It's okay (player), it's me. I'm gonna get you out of here." Mary kneels down and starts working on the ropes around my ankles. "I gotta be honest, I didn't like you at first." "I guess I did try to break up your marr-" "Shh! Shup up for once! Look, truth is I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for the both of us. I don't think you're a bad person, despite what you might think of me. I don't want it to end like this, not again." I raise my eyebrows at her. "Come on. Who do you think lived in that house before you? Don't think about it. Not right now. Run, kid. He's coming." Mary finishes untying me and disappears. I get out of the chair and run as fast as I can down the hallway outside of my holding cell. I have to get out of here. I can't keep sprinting. Not with these dad knees. Eventually I run out of breath. I check myself. All I have are the clothes on my back and this thing in my pocket. The pocket knife that Robert gave me. If I have to defend myself, this is all I have. Looking ahead of me, I can't see the end of the hallway, it bends further up there. I look back and can't even see where I started. I guess the only thing I can do is keep going and hope there's a way out on the other end. If there even is another end. I see no way out other than moving forward. I don't know how long I've been walking, but my body aches with soreness. I'm long past dehydration. My head is pounding. My vision is blurred. I lean up against the walls of the hallway for support. The hallway bends and twists. Sometimes it gets smaller, to the point where I have to crawl on my hands and knees to get through. Sometimes it expands into a great cavern where I can't even see the ceiling. I'm not sure how I'm still going. I've been walking for what I think must be days. It could bee weeks! Months! And yet still here I am. I see Joseph's kids. They hide in the shadows. They're coming to drag me back to Joseph. My dreams are plagued with nightmares of being chased down this hallway. Oh god, Joseph. I can see his face so clearly in those dreams. The exhaustion has sunk into my bones. I drift in and out of consciousness. I think I've slept, if you can call it sleep. I don't know why I keep moving, why I keep placing one foot in front of the other. My clothes are tattered and my shoes have worn through. My hell is inescapable. Until... It's a door! A door at the end of the hallway. I place my hand on the knob, seeing for the first time my gnarled fingernails and stretched, papery skin. I open the door and walk through. I'm in my house? How did that-? "Dad!" Amanda rushes into the room, wrapping her arms around me in a ferocious bear hug. "Where have you been?! Are you okay? I tried calling you like thrity times!" A... Amanda? "What happened? Did the boat break down or something? You know what? I'm just glad you're home." I have to choke back tears of relief. I hug Amanda again. Nothing has ever felt as good in my entire life. I feel fine. I look down and at myself and my clothes. They're there. My shoes are on. My fingernails aren't gnarled. "Amanda! I'm so glad to see you. You have no idea." "Wow, one night at sea. You didn't see a whale did you? You poor thing." "No whale could keep me from my daughter." "You're damn right. You know what? You need breakfast. A very greasy breakfast." "That sounds amazing." Amanda skips out of the room. This is all so confusing, was it a dream? "By the way, is it okay if Emma P. comes over tonight?" "Emma P.?" "You know, my best friend?" "Oh sure. Wait, I thought Emma R. was your best friend? She has red hair? You do art together? You pooped in her bed during that sleepover one time?" "Oh right, my mistake. Teenager brain, you know?" I sit down on the couch, suddenly very exhausted. All I want is to have a big plate of hashbrowns with my daughter by my side while I quietly work on my word jumbles. I reach over to the coffee table and grab my trusty book of jumbles. I stare at it for too long. This isn't a crossword puzzle. "Hey Amanda." Amanda pops her head in from the kitchen. "Workin' hard on these eggs, Dadtron. If you want the perfect over- medium I gotta be in the zone." "When's your birthday?" "Why, did you get me something?" "No, seriously. When's your birthday?" "My birthday? Dad, really? Do I have to answer this?" "I have seen a lot of weird stuff today, Amanda. Humor me." "My birthday is... It's... Nothing gets past you, huh?" Enter DEMON AMANDA "You know, I almost had you going there for a sec. Was it the crossword puzzle that gave it away? You know, I try so hard to nail the details. And my Amanda impression? I really think I stuck the landing on her irreverent yet wholesome tone. The whole 'manic pixie dream daughter'ù thing? I should've been on Broadway with these chops. Like, cooking you breakfast? Over-medium eggs with hash browns? Come on. That's so you.I feel like you're not appreciating how much work I've put in here." Amanda turns ash black, her clothes, hair and bracelets collapsing into concentric rings of pitch-dark smoke. Cracks begin to form along the walls around me. I look down and see the floor collapsing in tiles. As the walls, crumble, I see where I truly am. "Almost got away, huh? You're a crafty one aren't you? Dunno how you got out of those ropes. Oh right! Mary! She's rocking the tag team with you, isn't she? Funny, here I was thinking marriage was about trust. You know I thought I was gonna take care of Robert, and then here you were trying to make your escape and honestly (player) you're just killing my whole timeline here." Wait, Robert. As quick as I can, I pull his folding knife out of my pocket and lunge for Joseph, throwing all my force into him. Joseph knocks the knife out of my hand. It skitters across the room. "Aw man. I thought we were cool. What happened to Margarita Zone? I thought we had a thing here. Welp, sorry bud, but I guess I'm gonna have to do ya dirty. Doing you dirty means I have to kill you." Joseph wraps his hands around my neck, smiling as he tightens his grip. "What's wrong? You were so into this last night." The world goes quiet around me. This is it, isn't it. This is how I die. All I can think about is Amanda, I miss her so much. I'm sorry Amanda. I love you more than anything. Please be good. Joseph's eyes go wide as he releases his grip o me and I gasp in air. He turns around. "It's over Joseph." "Mary, honey, sweetie, you stabbed me!" "You stole so much life from me." Joseph backs away from Mary, clutching the wound on his shoulder. "Sweetheart, we can work this out." "I'm done with you." Behind him are Christian, Christie, and Crish, who all creep into the room. "Father?" Chris peeks into the doorway behind Mary. He looks different. "Won't you feed us, Father? Father, we're so hungry." Mary turns to me and holds out a hand. "Hey sailor, It's time to go." I look back into the room at the horror I had escaped. The children corner Joseph as I crawl to Mary, who pulls me into the hallway. The more I look at it, the more it seems to break my mind. I turn away, my head pounding. "This body is but a conduit, Mary! I'll see you in your nightmares!" Joseph laughs. What the hell? My eyes open and I shoot up in bed, gasping for air. Amanda leaps off of the chair in my room and attacks me with a hug. Amanda! This is the best hug of my life. "I was so worried about you!" I'm so happy to see her again. Wait. "Amanda, what's your birthday?" "Dad, did you forget again? It's March 22nd. You got me a record player and we ate an ice cream cake at the beach? But then I dropped the ice cream cake and got sand all over it? Remember?" "I remember that. Panda, I missed you so much. What, what happened?" "You don't remember? The yacht sank. The rescue crews had to pull you out of the water. That was a few days ago." "Where's Joseph?" "They found something in the yacht's wreckage. Some documents that showed he was embezzling funds from the church. Nobody's seen him since. There's a dectective here who's been waiting to talk to you. He's nice but he's drinking all of our coffee. Lemme go grab him." Amanda skips out of the room and in a moment Mary enters with... the guy I saw in the hallway. "Rise and shine bucko." "Mary, are you okay?" "You know it was a real shame, what happened to Joseph. I had no idea he was doing what he was doing to the church. And I can't believe he ran once the feds showed up, leaving me to take care of our four beautiful children on my own. But don't worry, they're staying with my parents until this all blows over." Mary stares at me, waiting for me to say something. "Good answer. Glad to see you've got your story straight." "I'm happy you're okay. I was worried about you." "Thanks Mary." Mary cracks a smile before turning and leaving my room. "Take it sleazy, fellas." Once the door closes, the man pulls up a chair and sits next to my bed. "You don't know me, but I know a lot about you, (player). Been keeping tabs on you for a while." "Who are you?" "Graves. Detective Saul Graves. There's strange and mysterious forces at work here in Maple Bay. What you saw down there, what we both saw down there, I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget it. And I get the feeling that you won't be able to, either. But it's my job to get to the bottom of this." "So what does this mean for me?" "It means to live your life like none of this ever happened. Go be happy. Go raise your daughter. Go fall in love. Be well, (player)." Saul walks to the door of my bedroom, but stops. He turns to me. "Get some rest. But if you're not doing anything later maybe you give me a call. Little Barry and I have been on our own for a while now, and if there's one thing I've learned through all of this, it's that us Dads have to help each other out. I know it's hard to raise a kid as a single parent. Even I lost my wife under 'mysterious circumstances'." START ScoreScreen DONE You're a monster. Cult_Dungeon1111 PlayerName Brent Lilley

#dream daddy spoilers

59 notes · View notes