#like if boundaries were updated tomorrow to say 'No Aus Allowed'

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

working on the Lights Out outline is so fun because there's always a new Thought that makes things more complicated but i want to include it so. this is a hell of my own design

[vicunaburger]

Imperfect and Inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 3/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,618 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: I’m just gonna sit here like it hasn’t been 2 months since an update

Chapter 3 - Late Night - Taxi

It was 1:30am.

There was a light drizzle all day, which turned mostly to slush due to the drop in temperature the last few nights. Not enough to soak through to the bone, but enough to make one excessively damp, which was arguably worse depending on the type of clothing one sported.

Unhappily, Magdalena sat outside on the fire escape, her umbrella doing little against the wind whipping the rain around her at such a height. Something was wrong, and it was gnawing away at her nerves by the minute. Dewey was supposed to have been home hours ago, so why wasn’t he going into his room? His van sat parked in its usual spot, having been there when she arrived, but she didn’t see him go into the apartment building. Faint noises through the apartment caught her ear, but they weren’t his sounds. Lighter footsteps, a softer touch on the light switches and refrigerator door.

Even though they had been meeting every night for the past three weeks - sometimes only a few minutes at a time - they had not reached the point where she could venture in and out of his home as she pleased. Dewey often met her on the steps outside, or as he got home from band practice. Never the right time to invite her inside.

What if something had happened to him? He could be lying in an alleyway somewhere, beset upon by local vandals. Maybe he was tutoring one of his students and lost track of the time?

What if he was on a date?

Magdalena pulled herself into the fur collar of her coat, resembling an unhappy feline as she stared holes into the window glass. If he was on a date, without her, she was going to be extremely distressed to say the least. She wouldn’t be too angry with Dewey; perhaps she was too old fashioned in her attempts at courtship. Too slow to reach the intended result. Truth be told, she was rusty in the art of new-age courtship; the very idea that she was pursuing him without reciprocation was almost too much for her to handle. It was unladylike, but so was this entire century.

The soft sound of the window being opened in front of her brought her attention back to the present, finding herself face to face with Dewey’s roommate. He blinked at her, which she mimicked, and cleared his throat with an awkward grumble.

“Uh… can I help you?” He asked, giving her a suspicious glance.

“I take it Mr. Finn isn’t home?” Magdalena adjusted her posture, trying to put on a more intimidating air. “Why would that be?”

Ned’s eyes seemed to glaze over briefly, “He’s at the bar on 5th.”

“5th and what?” She fought the urge to roll her eyes, not wanting to risk breaking the tenuous hold she had on his subconscious.

“Matinee. It’s open mic night, he’ll be there for a while until someone drags him home. Usually me.” He explained, seemingly unbothered by her on the fire escape.

Nodding, she took a deep breath, standing in preparation for descending to the ground below, “Don’t worry about him tonight, I’ll take care of him for you. Go to sleep or… whatever you do at night. If needed, you’ll recall this conversation happened in the hallway like a perfectly normal human interaction. La revedere”

—

Magdalena stood just outside of the bar under an awning, shaking out her umbrella and doing her best to put herself in a more presentable state. Offkey caterwauling of drunken patrons made her regret her sensitive hearing, wincing as she opened the door to the chorus of an 80s love ballad.  

She weaved her way through the small bar like a serpent through the grass; the small room filled to the brim even so late into the night. It didn’t take her too long to find the musician, hearing his distinct laugh and following the sound to the far side of the bar. He was surrounded by empty beer bottles and a few random patrons - female, she noted - his face flushed with laughter and alcohol.

Dewey caught sight of his neighbor immediately; sticking out from the usual crowd wrapped in her fur trimmed coat.

“Snow! Wha- what’re you doing all the way here?” Dewey stumbled his way through the girls surrounding him, “I wanted to c-call, ya know. But I need your number… so I can call you and stuff. How’dya know I was here? Are you magic?”

He was trying to be subtle but having to yell over the noise made that rather impossible. Magdalena reached out her hands, grasping his shoulders to steady him as he wobbled in place. Dewey, perhaps misunderstanding the gesture, pulled her tight to his chest, engulfing her petite frame in a hug.

His body was so warm, she thought she might melt.

Magdalena wasn’t going to let his opportunity slip away, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the mixed scent of his soap, sweat, and the blood sluggishly running through his veins. Even when they would sit side by side on the front steps of his apartment, she had yet to be this close to him. Social convention dictated that a certain amount of distance must be kept between people of small acquaintance.

Technically, since he was the one who broke that social boundary, she felt comfortable enough to start showing him more physical affection, and not just hidden wordplay.

“Not magic, I’m afraid, just well informed. Your roommate told me where to find you, and warned me about how inebriated you might be.” Magdalena allowed herself the small victory of sliding one hand behind his back, patting him gently. “It’s late, Mr. Finn, don’t you have practice tomorrow?”

Dewey’s gasp was audible even with the noise around them, his grip tightening around her, “Oh… oh… OH SHIT. I gotta go to sleep. Gotta go home. Not in that order. Mags!”

He let her go, placing his hands on either side of her face as he struggled to see her clearly. She could feel him adjusting the placement of her head within his vision, trying to keep her head steady as he wobbled around.

“Mags, do… do you have a car? Did you drive?” Dewey leaned forward as though they were sharing a secret. “Can you take me home? Maaaaaaags, you’re my only hope.”

Magdalena didn’t answer him at first, completely thrown off kilter by his incredible closeness and his use of a new nickname for her. “Mags” was a new moniker in her history; often being reduced to “Magda” by close friends and family only. Was he being sincere? Condescending? His logic being muddled by the amount of beer in his system?

Eh, she would take what she could get.

Magdalena nodded her head, watching him follow the movement with his own, “Come, we’ll go home, Mr. Finn. No cars, but the walk will sober you up in no time. Get your things.”

It took a while to get him out of the bar; Magdalena made sure his tab was paid, and that he had his coat on before the stepped outside. Even walking halfway down the block was a struggle, but not because he had a few pounds on her and thought it was “a great idea” to lean on her for support. It was struggle because she could very well

It wasn’t the fact she had to support him; it was the fact she had to do so without using near her full strength. Truth be told, she could have easily lifted him off his feet and carried him over her shoulder, but that would have been terribly suspicious given her small stature. It didn’t help that he would start slumping over, tripping on something or other on the sidewalk and narrowly avoiding splitting his head open on the cement.

Magdalena managed to subtly put him back on his feet, thankful that he was too muddled to notice. Suddenly, Dewey stopped cold, wobbling in place as she kept him steady.

“Maaaaags. I can’t walk anymore. My legs are bad.” He whined loudly, “How far?”

She winced at the volume, knowing it was probably the result of him unable to hear himself clearly, “We’re not even halfway to your apartment, Mr. Finn. Come on now, if you can stand, you can walk.”

Pouting, Dewey slipped himself to the ground with dead weight, sitting down on the sidewalk with a huff, “Too far.”

For a brief moment, she questioned her mental faculties in regard to her affection for him, “Ahh… I see. Would you like me to leave you here out in the rain and call transportation?”

“…no.” Dewey’s pout became more pronounced.

“Then we find ourselves at an impasse,” Magdalena bent down to be eye level with him. “Tell you what, my home is about a block away. If you can manage that distance, I will offer my sofa for the night.”

He eyed her suspiciously, “Do I get a pillow?”

She nodded, getting up and extending him a hand, “Yes, and you’ll be next to a fireplace, Mr. Finn. I am nothing if not hospitable.”

At once, Dewey leapt up from the ground on his own, seemingly catching a second wind at the prospect of a warm place to sleep. He threw his arm around Magdalena’s shoulders, squeezing her tight to him with a goofy smile plastered on his face.

“C’mon, Snow White, take me to the cottage~” He waggled his eyebrows at her, earning him a soft bit of laughter from his escort.

“Cottage isn’t the word I would use, but do as you will, Mr. Finn.”

Writing Tags:  @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @mrgeuse @amywright @beetlebitchywitch

[huffletiika]

home’s where the heart is (pt.2)

So well, this is the second part from Day 1 AU, and I know it have been a long ride since that day, but well... I needed to find the perfect prompt for this one. 

This is going to be my last OS for Lutteo Ficweek, since tomorrow I will publish a new chapter from my Gastina AU, that I know has taken me a long time to update, but I’ve been very busy these days, traveling and stuff.

Thanks to Mandy @deliverychicafresa for proof reading this one, and for giving me ideas for this particular prompt, because it wouldn’t be the same without her comments and suggestions, even if some of them were made as a joke at first.

Day 7: “It’s very rude of you to make me fall in love with you. Inconsiderate, really.” || Word count: 4.5k

{read more fanfics}

He stared at the wall that divided their rooms as if in this way he could see her through it. Not in the creepy stalker way, though. He just needed to make sure she was alright. Because she had been acting weird lately, weirder than ever he meant. She avoided him all the time and replied with monosyllables or simple gestures to everything he said to her, even to the teasing. Especially to the teasing. It had him shook. Did he offend her in any way? His best friend said that he was sometimes a little too much to handle, and not in a good way, so maybe that’s what happened, maybe she got tired of him.

And that hurt, more than he thought something could hurt him. No girl had had that effect in him, no girl mattered him that much, so he couldn’t handle having her so close, and at the same time so out of his reach, anymore.

He swore under his breath, closing his laptop with a frustrated gasp. He couldn’t continue working on his essay for his minor grade in astrophysics when every time he read the word moon he couldn’t help but thinking about her. Maybe he said something that offended her, or was it about what had happened on the kitchen the other night? Maybe that was the thing that annoyed her. He had let his emotions control his actions, and almost crossed a boundary she might not want to cross, or at least, not that fast, as he sensed in her actions that she wanted that kiss as much as he did.

With resolution he stood up from his desk. He would go there, knock on her door, tell her they needed to talk, and then spill the biggest speech about how important she was for him and how sorry he was for making her feel mad or uncomfortable in any way, so things could back to normal between them, because her evasive maneuvers were killing him.

That resolution, however, faded away as soon as he stood in front of her door and raised his fist to knock. What would he say? He should have prepared his speech, something structured and yet sincere to let her know how important she was for him, how she had changed his life, and that he didn’t want her to stay away from him. Yeah, he had to rush back to his room and write something. Writing wasn’t hard for him, as he does that for his songs all the time.

But then he heard a loud noise, similar to a blow, coming from the other side of the door, which was followed by an exclamation of pain, so he opened it and rushed inside the room without hesitation, finding Luna sitting on the floor, wincing and rubbing her knee with both her hands.

“Luna, are you okay?” He asked, kneeling besides her. “What happened?” He took her hands away from her knee, to find out for himself if she was hurt, noticing that she shivered at his touch.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I just slipped and fell on the floor, I do that all the time, but you already know that.” She tried to get up, but he stopped her with his firm hand on her leg.

“You’re hurt,” he stated, and her gaze went down to her knee, to find some bright red dots that started to sprout from her sore skin. “Come on, I'm going to help you sit on the bed, and then I'll bring something to clean the wound.” He moved closer to try help her stand, but she pulled away again.

“It’s just a scratch, don’t exag– Ouch!” She had tried to make her point by stretching her sore leg, but the pain ended her argument. He rolled his eyes.

“Can I help you now?” He asked, his voice sounding a bit annoyed, while getting up. “I don’t know what I did to make you so mad, but at least let me help you with this.” He held his hand in her direction, and she finally gave up, so he helped her to stand up.

He left the room to look for the first aid kit before she could say any word, but somehow he felt her stare on his back while walking away, and it was like a burning iron pressed against his nape.

It didn’t take him too long to find it, his mother was a very organized person, so it had been in the same place since he was a child. Luna looked like she hadn’t moved a single muscle since he left, and didn’t say a word as he sat next to her, opening the kit.

“I’m not mad at you,” she said, suddenly. He turned his gaze away from the wound he was cleaning, to her face, his gaze filled with surprise.

“Then, why are you avoiding me?” He asked.

“I just–” she hesitated. “I don’t know how to explain this.” She finally said, looking down at her own hands entwined in his lap.

“Just tell me what comes to your mind,” he suggested, leaving aside the implements with which he was healing her wound.

“Ok, but don’t freak out,” she turned around to face him, and he smiled to reassure her, as she looked nervous. She looked cute being nervous, though. “I just feel like we have this kind of chemistry, like we are physically attracted to each other, like what happened in the kitchen the other day, when we almost… you know.”

“When we almost kissed?” He finished her sentence.

“Yeah, that.” She sighed, trying to encourage herself. “What I’m trying to say is that I can’t help but feel this attraction towards you, I really like you… but that’s not right, I’m living in your house, you are part of my host family, and your parents! What would they think about me? They allowed me to stay and live in their house, and here I am, taking advantage of the situation, almost having made out sessions in their kitchen with their son. That’s why I’m avoiding you, because I tried to fight this and I can’t, so the only solution I found was to keep my distance.” She concludes, and a cocky smile appeared on his face.

“So, you can’t resist me.” He teased her, without being able to avoid it.

“Matteo, please. This is serious.” She wasn’t looking very pleased with his response, he realized. But he had spent so many days without being able to tease her, that it came out without even thinking.

“Sorry, so you seriously can’t resist me?” He continued teasing. She lost her patience, throwing a pillow to his face, making him giggle.

“Matteo!” She complained, and he finally decided to leave the jokes aside.

“Okay, I understand this is serious for you,” he explained. “But you’re telling me that I’ve been worried all these days, trying to figure out what I did wrong, when you were doing all this because you like me too much, and you’re afraid of what my parents would think if they knew about it, and that’s ridiculous. First of all, if my parents ever come to think that one of us is taking advantage of the situation that would be me, not you, Piccola. You need about twenty centimeters more of height to be threatening. Second, they would never kick you out of the house for something like that. They like you, even more than their own son, so surely they are planning to call your parents and trade me with you.”

She laughed, and he smiled triumphant.

“And third of all,” he added, leaning closer. “I like you too.” Matteo couldn't help but wonder if Luna's heart was beating as fast as his, or if she was feeling anything akin to the hot fire of desire that had settled in his chest, but was afraid of asking and spoiling the moment.

“Matteo, I–” he heard her whisper, and shook his head.

“Sh... it’s okay,” He asked, caressing her face. “You have no idea how much I wanted to do this.” No, she had no idea how hard it had been looking at her and remembering their moment in the kitchen, seeing her bit her lips and wishing those were his teeth, she didn’t know what a nightmare it was to leave his bedroom in the morning and smell the scent of her perfume in the hallway, bringing back memories about that short instant when he got to inhale it deeply from its owner’s skin. No, she wasn’t aware of the effect she had on him. She closed her eyes, heavily breathing.

“But your parents, they will–” she got to mumble, until he brushed her lips with his.

“I will talk to them, ok? Don’t worry about that,” he reassured her, rubbing their noises. “Now, could you please stop talking and let me properly kiss you?” he asked, and she laughed giving him her consent by softly nodding.

He yanked her to him with his hand on her nape, and covered her mouth with his in a hungry kiss. It felt like the 4th of July on his chest, like glory, like he had never known how it felt to kiss a girl before kissing Luna Valente. She responded immediately, with an equal effort to his, and that gave him the courage to deepen the kiss. She moaned against his lips and brought her whole body closer to him in response, and he took the opportunity to surround her waist with his arms and bring her against his chest, as if he could keep her there for the rest of their lives.

Eventually they slowly broke apart, their bodies still pressed against each other’s, and their eyes closed as if they were afraid of opening them and finding out it was just a dream.

“Wow…” she said. He smiled.

“Same,” he responded, and opened his eyes to get lost on the deep green of hers. He still felt the side effects of that kiss on his body, his fast heart rate, the difficulties for breathing, and inevitable dumbness, as if he had just woken up after the longest trance. And she was looking at him in a new way he couldn’t describe, her pupils were brighter than ever, there was a soft pink covering her cheeks, and her half-open lips were inviting him to kiss her again. And so he did.

He had fallen for her, he knew that long ago, even if he tried to convince himself that it was just something physical at first. His life had changed since the moment they bumped into each other in the airport, since she went to live in his house, and even if he knew that one day she was going to go back to her country, he just couldn’t help being attracted to her.

“It’s very rude of you to make me fall in love with you. Inconsiderate, really.” He murmured on her lips, when they parted away for the second time, trying to make a joke. She pulled her face away, and looked at him in confusion.

“Why?” She asked, and he shrugged.

“Because eventually you will leave, and that will break my heart,” he replied, with no remorse in his voice, because having her for a little of time was better than not having her at all. “Don’t worry, Piccola, I’ll be fine.” He would deal with his own broken heart later, now he just wanted to enjoy these moments with her, nothing else.

She looked at him with panic on her face, as if she had never thought about that before, when for him the deadline of her stay at his home has been present in his thoughts on most of his nights.  

“Don– don’t fall in love with me,” she asked him with sadness, her eyes filling with tears, which he quickly wiped away with his thumbs.

“I think it’s a little too late for me, Piccola,” he put their faces close again, and smiled at her. “But it’s okay, I’m a big boy. I can handle a broken heart,” he caressed her cheeks with his hand. “And you still can save yourself if you want.” She put her hands on his, staring at his eyes.

“It’s too late for me as well,” she replied, and then leaned to kiss him again.

He had talked with his parents, and it was the most awkward thing he had ever done, because he never talked to them about girls and stuff like that, but he had promised Luna he would do it and so he did. His dad had been diplomatically calm about it. They weren’t really close, as his father had wanted him to follow his steps in diplomacy, and Matteo had decided to make his mayor in musical production, but they understood each other very well, so his father was able to see right away that he wasn’t just messing around, that he was serious about his feelings for her. His mother, on the other hand, was more worried about it. What would Luna’s parents think about it? She was a guest in their house, they spent a lot of time alone there, so the couple could think that he had taken advantage of her and the situation.

Matteo had to reassure her a couple of times that it hasn’t been what had happened, that they couldn’t avoid feeling that way about each other even if they tried, and she finally got to understand. But there had to be rules while they were inside the house, and he gladly accepted all of them, just to be able to be together with Luna.

They had broken all of them, but his mom didn’t have to know that.

In that moment they were in his bedroom, they had decided to hang out there, watch a movie together, but she had fallen asleep at some moment so he just turned off the movie and put his laptop on his lap to start working on a composition he had to present for his mayor, using the headphones to avoid making any noise and waking her up.

This was a song he had been working on for a while, almost since the beginning of the semester, but it had to be perfect as it was the one he was going to present for his final. At some point he had been blocked with it, around the time she was avoiding him to be exact, but as soon as they started to be together it was like if all his blocks had evaporated. He had never been so creative, like he had found his very own muse, as his best friend liked to point out every time he mentioned said phenomenon in front of him.

He spent what felt like hours going again and again over a piece of the song, listening it again and again, making some changes, until he felt her moving by his side and looked sideways just to find her staring at him with an amused expression. He took of his headphones and looked at her with curiosity.

“What’s so amusing?” He asked, and she smiled.

“You,” she answered, “I didn’t know you wore glasses. Finally I found another flaw of you, besides of being a snob, of course…” she teased, and he laughed.

“I only wear them so that my eyesight won’t tire when I have to work on the computer for a long time, Piccola, that’s not a flaw,” he shrugged. “And I take it from the way you are looking at me that I look even better with glasses.”

“How did I end up falling in love with such a snob?” She asked in feigned disbelief, with her cheeks turning pink.

“I’m just that irresistible, Luna,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t let her reply to his comment, as his lips found hers right away. She kissed him back immediately, forgetting about their previous conversation, and pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt.

After a while, she broke the kiss laughing, and playfully bit his lip. “You’re impossible, Chico Fresa,” she said, with her voice full of joy. “Now, let me put this away,” she then added, taking his laptop off from his lap and leaving it on his nightstand, taking its previous placement. There would be no way for him to complain about his current situation.

“Are you taking advantage of me, Piccola?” He teased, and she looked down to him with a bright smile, her hair falling both sides of her face. She looked happy, full of life, and that made him feel as if nothing bad could ever happen in the world.

She didn’t follow the game. “If there would be any possibility of me staying here in Italy, would you tell me to take it?” she asked from one moment to another, confusing him.

“Is there any?” he asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Answer my question,” she insisted.

He sighed. “Only if that’s what you want to do,” he finally said, looking fondly into her eyes. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why you are asking me that?” He insisted, and she shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” She bit her lip, and if that was a distraction maneuver, it worked very well. “Right now, I just want to have a made out session with my boyfriend before his parents arrive home, is that too much to ask?” she asked, suggestively. He smiled widely.

“Who are you, and what did you do with my Piccola?” He asked, and she just tilted her face in response. “Ok, let me take these off,” Matteo took his hand to his glasses to remove them, but she stopped him.

“No, they will stay right where they are,” she ordered.

He was going to do a really great comment about her having a fetish for glasses, he really was, but right in that moment her lips found his and he decided the joke was not worth spoiling the moment, so he just send it to the archive of good jokes to use in future occasions, and put his hands on her face to keep her closer, kissing her back with equal desire, to seize the time they had before his parents arrived.

There goes one broken rule.

He got home late that night. His best friend had invited him to go watch the game with him on his house, and he couldn’t say no, he had already done that dozens of times to spend his afternoons with Luna.

The first thing he noticed while opening the front door were the kitchen lights on, so he walked there thinking her mom had stayed up waiting for him to arrive, finding his girlfriend instead, looking for something to eat in the refrigerator. He leaned against the door frame and stared at her without her noticing.

“You didn’t have to wait for me awake,” he said. She jumped.

“Matteo, you scared me!” she said, resting her hand on her chest.

He laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was so ugly,” he joked, and then walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing awake so late, anyway? I thought you would be already sleeping at this hour,” he added, leaning to leave a kiss on her forehead.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed and shrugged when he asked why. “I– I have something to show you.” She said, and went to the counter, taking a manila folder he hadn’t noticed that was above it, handing it over to him. “Read this,” she asked, and so he did.

«Signorina Luna Valente» He read, calmly, taking a seat on one of the high chairs next to the counter. «Abbiamo il piacere di informarvi che avete i requisiti necessari per essere beneficiato con una borsa di studio per proseguire gli studi all'università…» He stopped reading, and read those words and those that followed again and again, before looking at her in disbelief, not sure about what he should say about these news, too shocked to think coherently.

“This– When did–?” For the first time ever Matteo Balsano was speechless. “This says that you applied for a scholarship to stay here studying in Italy, when did you–” He was still speechless.

“Do you remember the day when I asked you if you would tell me to take the opportunity to stay if it was offered to me? Well, it has been offered, and I applied.” She answered, with a soft smile, approaching his hand, and interlacing their fingers.

“And you got it.” He was still looking at the paper, not her.

“Yeah, I got it.” No response from him, he was still in shock. She did that because of him? What about her family and the amazing people she was always talking about? Her best friend who had a band and played on her favorite café all Saturdays? The shy girl she was good friends with and who talked with her about books and stuff she didn’t even understand? Was she going to leave all of that behind for him? He couldn’t let her do that, he wouldn’t forgive himself for doing so, for keeping her away from those she loved. “Aren’t you happy?” she asked, confused, when she didn’t get the response she was expecting.

“I am, but–” He sighed.

“Don’t you want me to stay?” Her voice sounded very sad, and he finally looked up to her, tightening the grip of their hands, reassuring her that’s not what he meant.

“You know I do,” he said.

“Then what’s wrong?” she asked, and he filled his lungs before putting his thoughts into words.

“I want you to stay more than anything in the world, but at the same time, I don’t want you to do this just because you want to be with me. It’s your future after all… and you already miss your family, and your friends, how could I keep you away from them? I would hate to be years away from my family and friends.” He rubbed his neck with his free hand. She bit her lip, and then smiled.

“That’s a very Chico Fresa thing to say.” She rolled her eyes. “Not everything is about you, snob.” Her smile let him know she was just teasing, so he smiled at her as well. “Yes, on the one hand there are my family, my friends, and I am not so fond of being so far away from them for so long. But, on the other hand, staying with you could be the best thing to ever happen to me,” she stopped him with a movement of her hand before he could say anything, so he would let her finish. “And not only that, the scholarship is something that I never thought that could happen to me, an unique opportunity I was afraid to apply for just because I hadn’t find anything here that made feel at home, but you do that, you make me feel at home.”  

“Luna…” he whispered, moved by her words.

“I feel at home when I’m with you, Matteo,” she muttered. “Yes, I would like to go back to my country and spend time with my family and friends. I miss them a lot. But, is that really my home? Isn’t your home the place where your heart is?” she caressed his face with one of her hands. “My heart is here with you, so this place is home now. I’m at home.” He felt his heart speeding up. He was feeling so many things for her, he didn’t know how to express them, and so he just leaned for a soft kiss across the kitchen counter that she gladly responded to.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked with his lips over hers and she smiled.

“More than sure,” she gave him a small peck on his lips.

“What about your family and friends? Are they okay with your decision?” He rubbed their noses, and she smiled. “Have you talked with them?”

“Are you trying to make me change my mind?” she teased.

“No, I’m just making sure they are not hating me right now for keeping you away from them for more than three years,” he murmured, and she caressed his face.

“They will miss me, but they understand this is what I want, so they support me.” She looked at him with her green eyes filled with enthusiasm, and he couldn’t help but feel enthusiastic as well. “And they don’t hate you… but Simon, my best friend, asked me to tell you that if you break my heart he would take the first flight here and hunt you down,” she told him, and he laughed.

“I’m pretty sure those weren’t his words.”

She made a grimace. “No, those weren’t his exact words.” They both laughed. “I will also have to find a place to stay, I can’t stay with your parents…”

“My mom would let you.” He was sure about that.

“But I don’t want to be a load for your family for three whole years, and this scholarship has nothing to do with the Host Family program, it wouldn’t be fair to them if I stayed here. They would pay for the cost of a room, I just need to find someone who is looking for a roommate, and that’s it, we could still meet around.” He smiled widely.

“Well, I’m looking for a roommate,” he said, suggestively.

“Matteo, I’m serious. I can’t stay in this house for that long.”

“No, I’m not talking about here,” he shook his head. “I was considering moving into a place on my own at the beginning of the year, but I changed my mind because… well, I just decided to stay around for a while,” the real reason had a name and a beautiful pair of green eyes, and was staying at the room next to his on his parent’s place. The truth is, he had forgotten he wanted to move since the moment they bumped into each other at the airport. “But I’m pretty sure I will need a new place for the next semester, and a roommate would be much help to pay the rent,” he shrugged.  

She bit her lip, “I will think about it,” she finally replied within a couple of minutes.

“Does that mean yes or no?” He had never been a patient person.

“It means I’m going to think about it,” Luna laughed and gave him a peck on his lips. “Now I have to sleep, see you tomorrow,” she added, taking her letter and making her way up the stairs, and he looked at her until she disappeared from his field of vision. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but right there, in that exact moment, he couldn’t be happier.

[misspandalily]

update - you are my evenstar (part 2)

AU: Lord of the Rings

AO3 | FFN

She decides to make a short appearance at Lord Hiashi's welcoming feast for the sake of being polite. Kakashi is already present beside Lord Hiashi's table by the time she walks in, fresh from a lavender-scented bath and dressed in a set of deep green robes. The ranger catches her eye and beckons for her to sit amongst them.

Them, being him, Lord Hiashi and his three relatives.

Tenten strides to the ornate table in four steps, bows deeply to Lord Hiashi, and sits down beside her friend.

"A pleasure to see you here, Tenten," Lord Hiashi greets her. "Your halfling friend is well. Tired and weak, but he is resting and well."

She dips her chin gratefully, feeling her long hair - loose, for the first time in years - fall over her shoulders. "You have my eternal gratitude, Lord Hiashi."

There are several more polite exchanges, and then the food is brought out. On her other side, she feels Neji leaning over in his seat. Her head turns towards him when he leans down.

"Eternity is no small word for an elf."

She is aware. "I choose my words wisely, Lord Neji. My debt to your uncle is eternal."

He leans back, silvery eyes glinting at her curiously. "For a mere halfling's life?"

Tenten shakes her head gently and holds his gaze. "For far more than a hobbit, my Lord."

Neji frowns. "What do you mean?"

"It means," she lifts her sleeve and reveals the tip of a deep, white scar that runs along the length of her right arm. His eyes widen - elves never bleed, much less possess scars. "The unspeakable are rising."

A few more dishes are brought out to the table. Lord Hiashi waves his hand, signalling for the music to begin. Under ordinary circumstances, Tenten would allow herself to lean back and revel in Elven song, but tonight a pink-haired elf walking away from a table from the other side of the room catches her attention. Tenten then remembers her earlier intention, to leave early and check on her hobbit friends, so she rises from her seat.

"My Lords, my Ladies," she gives a respectful nod to her hosts, "If I may request an early leave. I'm afraid the journey has fatigued me."

"Granted," Hiashi, still deep in conversation with Kakashi, waves a hand dismissively. She immediately swivels around and rushes to the pink-haired elf.

Tenten manages to catch up with the female elf just outside of the feast-room. Recognition flickers in her eyes when Tenten greets her. "You are Tenten, the ranger's friend."

"Yes," she nods, "I was wondering-"

"The halflings are resting in the east wing, close to your quarters," she interrupts her, not unkindly. "They're an interesting folk, aren't they? Lively, and brash, but kind."

Tenten agrees. They'd been shocking at first, then amusing, and after a month, loveable. She isn't reputed for being warm to people who cannot fight, and they are the rare exception. "They're jolly," she smiles back.

"My name is Sakura." Cherry blossom. A name befitting the colour of her hair. "I've heard about your adventures in the north, Tenten. H-Have you come across many men in your journeys?"

A spike of curiosity ran through her mind when a blush tinged the tips of Sakura's cheekbones. "The Kingdom of Men lie in the south," she corrects her, "But I have met many, yes."

"Then are you familiar with one by the name of Uchiha?"

The ranger Uchiha? Not many pass by Rivendell - with the exception of Kakashi, who had been raised by elves - and especially not men from Gondor. Tenten wonders how Sakura came to know the Uchiha name, particularly when they were renowned for being cruel and distant to those not-human.

"We have crossed paths before," she replies vaguely, then elaborates when Sakura looks crestfallen at her answer, "In Gondor. He is not a friendly man, by any means."

"That sounds like him," she says, almost fondly.

Not for the first time, Tenten finds herself growing suspicious of the familiarity. When had they met? Rivendell elves never ventured outside of their geographical boundaries, and even then healers like Sakura were rarely ever authorised to leave. She figures that she is better off not prying, given that she's a welcome guest as long as she doesn't insult Lord Hiashi's authority. The affairs of his elves are his to deal with, so she ignores her suspicions and politely asks Sakura to direct her to the hobbits.

"I will guide you," another voice interrupts the directions Sakura had started to dole out. They both turn towards the speaker and bow.

"Lord Neji," Tenten immediately addresses him, confused, "I'd assumed that you would be feasting with the others."

Sakura leaves when Neji waves a hand in dismissal.

"Tonight I wish to rest among the stars," he glances up at the sky for emphasis and turns his attention back to her, "Come." Tenten spends another second looking at his retreating back. She's certain that Neji has tasks much more worthy of his time than guiding a visitor to her friends' resting chambers, and he doesn't seem like the type of elf to trouble himself with the woes of other species either. If the confusion shows on her face, he notices it when he realises she isn't following him and tilts his head around to look at her. "By custom, we treat our guests with the same courtesy that we treat the High Elves, and here you are a guest, Lady Tenten."

His face seems pained to have had to explain the reasoning behind his actions, so she bows politely and catches up to him.

"Imladris has changed considerably since I had last visited," Tenten begins conversationally. Neji glances at her, light eyes glistening curiously.

"Things have been this way for centuries now," he pauses to let her walk onto a bridge first. Tenten dips her head and marvels at the moonlight reflecting off the water. Behind her, Neji continues speaking, "How old are you?"

"Quite," she responds, smiling lightly at his expression. "I have seen many Ages pass, Lord Neji." They reach the end of the bridge. She recognises the lake that she'd passed on her way to the feast and surmises that they have reached the east wing.

"Then you are far wiser than I, my Lady," Neji matches her stride when they disembark from the bridge, allowing his long hair to flow behind him freely. Tenten shakes her head.

"I am older, but I have ventured outside of my home very few times. Ennor is still a strange land to me."

"Then I am sure you will be seeing more of it sooner," he stops in front of a door and gives her a knowing look, "We have reached your hobbit friends. This is where our paths will diverge - have a good night."

Tenten enters the room and sees Kankurou sitting on Gaara's left and Temari on the right. All three hobbits look considerably less haggard than when they'd first arrived; to Tenten's relief, colour has re-entered and revived Gaara's ghostly-pale face.

"Tenten!" Temari's eyes light up. The female hobbit has seen better, more nutritious days when the Shire had granted them the comforts of home, but still - Tenten spots the empty platters lying in a pile on the floor and she is pleased that they have at least regained their infamous hobbit appetite. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she replies graciously, "How is Gaara?"

"Better," Gaara responds, voice still slightly hoarse. His light green eyes are roaming over the room appreciatively. "This is a beautiful place."

"He's been marvelling at the architecture since he'd woken up earlier," Kankurou explains, when Tenten looks mildly confused, "Always the strange little hobbit. It is beautiful, but a bit cold, I would say."

"Too big," Temari agrees vehemently.

Tenten smiles at them and sits down in a chair. "Indeed. I've always favoured smaller homes myself."

"What's it like?" Gaara joins in, eyes regaining their typical sharp focus. "Your home."

She immediately pictures cavernous hallways, open-aired spaces for dining and dancing beneath the starlight, rooms embedded into rock-faces and dotting the underground with bright, white light. A sudden wave of homesickness hits her. Tenten desperately wants to return home, to where her people are, but knows that home is far away in both distance and time. She will not see it until her assigned task is finished. "It is closed," she says after a beat of silence, "And intricate."

As always, they look disappointed with her vague answers. She bites back her amusement. "It is late. Gaara will be tended to during the night, and I suggest that you all rest well for tomorrow - it will be a long day."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Kankurou asks.

"There will be a meeting with Lord Hiashi's Council. I will also be there, as will you."

"For what?" She sees Gaara clutch at something beneath his shirt and looks at him knowingly.

"The Ring."

[auratusuniverse]

Incredible Chapter 14

AKA: I’m so sorry that I haven’t updated this since June - Earthlings and the method behind Jasper’s corruption really changed where I was going and it took six months for me to fix issues that the stuff revealed in the episode caused (and by issues, I mean that Earthlings made it even more angsty and I needed to fix my outline and try to rework everything and try to both bring in and solve a big problem for more than just Connie now). Monster Reunion also had a big impact in this chapter as well as in the next one.

Summary

Steven tries to help Connie reform and then discovers the terrible truth behind his mother’s experiments. Pearlyanka becomes canon in the AU. Steven starts getting strange pains and hears a soothing song. All this and more in tonight’s installment of “Incredible”!

Connverse, Pearlyanka, Jaspidot (though not much in this chapter) ... angst

(Final note: Chapter 15 will be up a LOT sooner and it’s almost to where I like it, though Chapter 16 will have to wait until after Steven Bomb 5 airs because it WILL have spoilers for it. Also, this became one of the longest chapters so far at 10 pages).

Archive of Our Own link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14 under the cut

Steven hadn't said much to anyone in the following days, occasionally responding to questions with a quiet "yes" or "no".  He only mumbled softly to the gem in his hands. Greg was staying at the temple now, there in case Steven needed him.

He had tried to get Steven to talk about it, but he also knew that the teen was hurting.

It wasn't until a week after that he finally heard Steven say more than a few words.

The teen was hunched over Connie's gem on his bed, tears rolling down his cheek, as he whispered to her. Greg sat down on the bed next to him and gently placed a hand on his back.

"She said my name, dad ... In her actual voice ... She said my name ..."

Greg pulled Steven in close as he sobbed into his shirt.  He didn't know what to say to comfort Steven.

It was easier when Connie had first died. He knew what to say then.

What could he say when everything was uncertain now?

Peridot watched from the kitchen, her heart breaking for Steven. She had felt, first hand, what Steven had with regards to his friend and knew his pain intimately now. She wanted to try and comfort him, but she didn't know what to say.

At first, she had been confident that Connie would reform, but the doubts came when it had been a week without any signs of regeneration.

She didn't want to accept that Connie was gone. She had grown accustomed to sitting on the bed, talking with Connie and introducing her to things that Steven had said Connie had once liked. She had even watched throughout the week at nights as Steven had tearfully read to Connie's Gem.

He had pulled out one book that he had explained to Peridot was the last book in the series that Connie had said she liked. She had never been able to read it, but he had purchased it after she had died, promising to read it one day. Now he had been reading it to Connie's inert gem.

He had stopped when he reached the point where Lisa's familiar found the spell that could turn him into a human.  He couldn't read any further.

Eventually, Greg descended the stairs and sat on the couch, having tucked Steven into bed. He slumped and buried his head in his hands.

Peridot wanted to go to him and comfort him.

But the last interaction she had with him ended with her pushing him off of a roof.

She would try later.

~

Garnet had noticed that something was off with Steven.

She knew that he was heartbroken from losing Connie once again, but this was something else.

There had been a dullness to his energy that worried her. She wondered if this emotion was putting strain on his gem. He had never been this depressed before.

She sighed before exiting her room to try and console Steven. She couldn't tell what was going to happen now. The future was so murky.

It had been murky ever since Connie first died. When she had met Connie for the first time, she had seen a future where Connie joined Steven in protecting the Earth. A future where Connie and Steven grew old together.

A future where Connie led to Steven embracing his human side as much as he had embraced his gem side.

That future was irreparably damaged now. Everything was different. There was no way that the future she had seen would ever happen now.

There was barely a glimmer of hope that Connie would reform, much less regain her humanoid form.

As Garnet left her room, she made her way to Steven's side.

The only thing she could do now was comfort him.

~

She was floating in nothingness.

She didn't know where she was and was too afraid to look around. She remembered her last moments before she arrived in this endless sea of calm and was glad for the peace.

She assumed this was the afterlife.

It was nice but lonely.

Occasionally, she would feel a warmth that filled her and eased any worries she had, but that warmth was tinted with sadness. She still longed for that feeling, however. It felt safe and soothing, even with the attached sadness that came with it.

She didn't want to leave this place when that feeling was near.

~

Pearl had invited her into her room for the first time since they had started to grow closer.

She had been slow to say anything to Priyanka, but it became an unspoken relationship. They were there to comfort each other in Priyanka's loss. In Pearl's fears about Steven.

In the knowledge of what happened to Connie.

When Priyanka had finally told Pearl that it was hard to return home, Pearl began to find ways to make her room more accessible to her human friend. She told herself it was just out of friendship. She didn't want to feel like she was betraying Rose with her blossoming feelings for the human woman.

Then she had slipped and kissed Priyanka one night before the room revealed her experiment, when they had both been drinking wine to wind down.

She had worried that she had gone too far. That she had overstepped the boundaries of their relationship.

Instead, for the first time, they truly talked.

Now, as Pearl watched Priyanka make herself comfortable on one of the water columns, she found a feeling growing that she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time. She didn't even feel the feeling of fear that she was betraying Rose.

Rose would have wanted Pearl to be happy.

And she was.

"We'll check in Rose's Room tomorrow for any notes on the chances of regeneration," Pearl began as she sat next to Priyanka. "I'm confident that we will be able to revive her. I'm certain that it is a case of programming -"

"Will she be herself?"

Pearl froze.

She didn't know for certain.

"I'm not sure ... Garnet noticed that Connie was seeming more human, in her eyes, when she last saw her ... before the fight. And Steven mentioned that Connie's eyes looked just like they had before she had corrupted. I want to believe that she will be able to return to her normal form,” Pearl explained. She decided to leave out the fact that Connie spoke just before her form was dissipated.

"What's it like? Corruption?"

Pearl sighed.

She really did not want to have this talk with Priyanka. She didn't want her to hurt any more than she already did.

But it was unavoidable.

~

Steven often felt a pain in his shoulder now. He assumed it was from sitting hunched over Connie's gem so he would often try to change positions to find some comfort. Nothing would help, however, and so the pain in his shoulder persisted. On some nights, the pain would spread throughout his back.

If he cared more, he would try to investigate why he hurt so badly now, but all he could think about was Connie.

Why had this even happened? Why would his mother's Room try to do something so horrifying as raise the dead?

He had been healing, slowly, from Connie's original death, but now he had to live through knowing that she had been put through unbelievable pain. That she had been brought back to life only to die again.

No, she's still alive. She's just in her gem. She has to still be alive.

He repeated the mantra to himself until the pain in his shoulder became too much to bear. He rolled over onto his side with Connie's gem held close.

His eyelids grew heavy as he tried to fight sleep.

She could reform and I wouldn't even be awake ...

As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard a soft song playing in his mind. A voice, not unlike his mother’s on the videos he had seen, singing in an ancient language. As the song entered his mind, the pain in his body lessened.

~

Garnet looked about the Burning Room for the bubble that contained the Topaz's remaining shards. They were aimless now. The missing piece no longer belonged to that gem.

She was about to take the bubble to the pit of lava to dispose of them when a vision struck her.

She paused and let the bubble float back up to the ceiling.

The shards would be useful in the future.

~

He had awakened with Connie's gem nestled next to his cheek. He stared at the translucent, pink gem shard, hoping to see some glimmer of life, but found nothing.

He was afraid to attempt dream walking. He didn't know what he would do if he found her gem to truly be empty.

He sat up in bed and stared at the shard. He wanted to speak to her but his throat hurt from crying. He gently cradled Connie's gem.

He barely noticed when Peridot sat down at the foot of the bed, looking down at the shard.

"Pearl is going to need to get into Rose's Room. She said that she might be able to see if Connie will regenerate using notes your mother had on early experiments ..." Peridot whispered. "I think she might need Connie's gem though ..."

Steven looked up at Peridot.

"I need to be with her. What if she comes back and I'm not there? She'll be confused or upset! What if she lashes out?"

What if she doesn't come back?

Peridot smiled sadly.

"I bet Pearl will let you stay for most of it ... but she did say there are some things she doesn't want you seeing yet ..."

With that, Peridot made her way down the stairs, glancing back to Steven. She needed to check on Jasper now.

Meanwhile, Steven sat on the bed looking at Connie's gem. The gem shard felt heavy in his hands as he turned it over.

The thought of trying to speak to her crossed his mind again, but he was still worried. He didn't want to even think of truly losing her.

What did it mean for him? Would he die if he poofed as well?

A troubling thought drifted into his mind and he quickly pushed it away.

If it didn't work for him ... If he didn't die when he was forced to retreat into his gem ... He would be even worse off.

As he stared at Connie’s gem, the pain returned. He was about to massage his shoulder when the song he had heard in the night popped into his mind. He couldn’t avoid humming it. As he hummed the tune, the pain seemed to lessen. It didn’t retreat fully, but it was bearable now.

He didn’t have time to wait and think about what had happened. He felt a pull in his mind to try and see if Connie was in her gem. He had to try.

He laid down and closed his eyes, holding Connie’s gem close and hoping he would see her.

~

She opened her eyes when she heard his voice.

She didn't expect to hear him and it frightened her at first. A part of her worried about the reason for his being there.

"Connie?"

She didn't see him at first, but she sensed him. She could feel him all around her and felt a calmness and warmth fill her. She didn't try to speak for a long time. She just enjoyed the sensation.

"Connie? Are you there?"

She wanted to answer, but she didn't know for sure if she even could. She looked around, hoping to see him.

She knew he was there.

"Connie ... I don't know if you're here but I miss you ..."

She missed him too. She remembered him. She remembered everything about him.

I wish I knew how to get to you ... I miss you too ...

She wondered if he could hear her. If she knew she was there.

She wanted him to hold her close. To help her and heal her.

It wasn't until she looked around that she realized she had no visible form now.

She wanted to cry but she couldn't produce the tears.

Steven ... please help me ...

~

He had felt the emotion even though he didn't hear her.

She was alive.

She was alive in her gem but something was wrong.

He felt Garnet sit down on the bed and opened his eyes, looking up at her.

"Did you see her?" Garnet asked.

"I ... I felt her, but I couldn't see her at all. It's like she was simply a presence in my mind ... Is ... Is she really gone, Garnet?" Steven whimpered.

Garnet paused.

She had seen several possible futures, the more that Steven had talked to Connie's gem. She could feel Connie's presence in the gem but it was weak. Uncertain.

There was a chance that Connie could come back. If she did, she would be back to her normal self but the corruption would still be there, She would have to learn to control her emotions more. She would have to learn how to keep from succumbing to it.

There was also a chance that Connie would not return. The gem shard was not whole. It was only a small remnant of a gem now. Something manufactured in a process not unlike repurposing a shattered gem.

The other shards were present, but they couldn't make the gem whole anymore. This could be what was stopping Connie.

Then Garnet had a thought. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized this before.

"Steven ... she doesn't know how to reform ..."

"What?"

"I don't know why I didn't think of that! She's still human. She doesn't have the innate knowledge of a gem with regards to reforming," Garnet continued. "We need to teach her, somehow ..."

"Can you enter her dreams?"

"No ... that seems to only be an ability that you and Rose share. You will need to tell her how to do it. You'll have to guide her."

"But I don't even know how!" Steven cried. "I don't even know if I could! Or if she could ..."

Garnet smiled and hugged him tightly.

"I can tell you how. You will need to know how to do it as well, anyway. If anything were to ever happen to you ..."

Garnet let the thought hang in the air between them. Steven understood, but a part of him was aching so badly now that he almost didn't care what happened.

He just wanted Connie back.

The door to the temple opened and Pearl and Priyanka stepped through.

"Steven?" Pearl asked. "Can you come down for a moment? Bring Connie's gem with you ..."

Steven nodded and looked up at Garnet once more before grabbing Connie's gem and taking her down the stairs. He took a deep breath, standing between Priyanka and Pearl, before he opened the door to his mother's room.

~

She felt his presence again and tried to find him.

She knew he was there, but she couldn't properly see him now. She tried to call his name again, but there wasn't anything to direct the sound.

She soon remembered something she had heard Steven mention once.

Gems were made of light.

Maybe she was made of light too.

She wasn't sure how she had done it, but she noticed that everything around her was much brighter. It was as if she was a beacon in the vast expanse that surrounded her.

"Connie?"

She soon found Steven running towards her. She wondered how he had made it in to her.

"Connie! How did you ... It's like looking into the sun!" He chirped. "Not in a bad way," he added.

She wanted to speak to him, but she was still unsure of how to do it.

"You ... you can't talk," Steven whispered, defeated. "Do you know that I'm even here?"

Connie wanted to tell him that she could see him. She wanted to tell him she could feel his presence with her and that it was the only thing keeping her going.

No words would form.

"I ... I'm trying to find out how to get you back, Connie. The room isn't giving me anything and I think they're all hiding something from me ... But I will help you, Connie. I promise."

She wanted to reassure him. She wanted to hold tightly onto him and tell him she was thankful that he was even trying to help her.

When she felt his presence fade, she wanted to weep.

She was alone again.

Lost and alone.

~

He shouldn't have sneaked in, but he needed to find out what was being hidden from him. He found it hard to believe that the Room really didn't have any definitive answers regarding the state of Connie in her gem.

As he walked into the Room, he could feel a chill creep down his spine. He looked around, searching for Connie's gem.

Seeing the amorphous blob of light that had to be Connie when he was dream walking had pushed him further into the goal of figuring out what was really happening. He soon found her gem, still suspended in the room.

"Room ... I need to know what happened in the human hybrid experiments. As Rose Quartz ... I need to know ..."

He could feel the tension in the room as it seemed to fight with it's own programming.

When it relented, he could feel his stomach lurch as he watched the footage. He had known that the gems were once responsible for horrific atrocities.

He didn't want to believe that his mother had been a part of it.

When he watched the final experiment, his heart sank.

The human in the experiment reminded him of Connie.

This could have happened to her.

It did happen to her.

When Steven returned out of Rose's Room, Garnet was the first to see him. She watched as he pushed past her holding Connie's gem close, tears streaming down his cheeks. She hadn't looked into the future to see what he would learn in the room, but as she watched him run out the door, she wished she had.

Before she turned to try and get the other gems, she felt a chill run down her spine. She should have seen the possibility of something like this happening, but she had been so distracted.

She thought she had seen something protruding from Steven's shoulder.

[edelwoodsouls]

talk about silence, and violence (deadmen, and spiders) - ch. 1 [fic]

By the time Tim realises what Martin is, it’s too late. [dual avatars au] [Martim, Hunt!Tim, Web!Martin, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Tension]

Word Count: 1,960 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: N/A [updated tomorrow]

Chapter 1: PAX

The Archives at night is one of Tim's favourite places.

For all that he hates it here - hates the weight of Beholding bearing down on him, how Jonah Magnus stares at him through the body of a dead man, and Jon slips steadily into paranoia before his eyes - the Archives are also the one place he can feel peace.

It's not that it's quiet, or even calm. There's an energy, a chaos, contained in the very walls of the building. The Archives, especially, thrum with power. And yet just sitting here, still, sets something inside him at ease, as everything washes over him.

Most likely, it's because the Eye itches the scratch in his soul which hungers for knowledge. It sits in the pit of his stomach, ravenous for points to connect and leads to follow - something, anything, to hunt.

He tries to ignore this fact, this similarity, on his good days.

At night, at least, none of the Eye's servants are around to annoy him, to distract him. Like buzzing mayflies, they have fallen away with the moon, leaving him blissfully alone in the dark.

Or, almost. He can hear, with the sharpness of a wild animal's keen senses, the clink and clatter of Martin in the tiny archives break room. Making tea, stirring sugar into one- no, two cups.

Of course.

He allows himself a small smile, despite himself.

He should hate Martin. He should have torn his throat out and dumped the body somewhere no one could find it the moment he realised just what Martin is.

Instead, he watched as Martin spun him close in gossamer web, and thanked him for it.

As Martin shuffles into the office, Tim pretends to be busy. His eyes flicker across the words of the crumbling tome in his hands - some account of nineteenth century circus routes he's read a hundred times before - but he takes in nothing.

His gaze catches on Martin, instead.

When they first met, Tim hadn't thought much of him. He was quiet, and nice, and that was about all he could say of the man. The kind of guy who would have been a pleasure to have in class back when he was five. The kind of guy who had never learnt to say no, or set boundaries, or take anything for himself.

And Tim, from a lifetime of tooth-and-nail academia and blood-soaked hunting, had laughed. That kid'll be out to the wolves in weeks, he'd said to Sasha, as they watched Martin fluster his way around Jon, cheeks pink, eyes flickering.

And Sasha, frowning through a guilty laugh, had agreed.

That was over a year ago. Oh, how the times change.

Martin hovers in the doorway, watching Tim. They watch each other a lot these days. He's paused conveniently in a pool of moonlight cast through the slitted windows of the basement. It haloes him in silver, glinting off his curls, his glasses, his crooked teeth.

The perfect colour to match his tongue.

"You're staring," Martin says softly, shifting his head just so to look over the rim of his glasses. It's a look that makes Tim want to curl himself into the folds of Martin's mustard yellow jumper and push him against one of the bookcases all at once.

"So are you," Tim replies, throwing his feet up casually on the desk in front of him and flicking a page of his book. "Whatcha got there?"

"You tell me."

Tim raises an eyebrow, then closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath, inhaling the scents of the space and etching them into a map behind his eyes. The smell of dust and ink and paper. The tang of metal and coarseness of fabric. The apple going mouldy in his desk that he hasn't bothered to get rid of. The smell of Martin, pine and chamomile and the hint of something needle-sharp.

And finally, the tea.

Tim opens his eyes and grins. "Rooibos, with vanilla and ginger. That loose leaf you bought from Borough Market two months ago."

"Very good," Martin smiles, finally stepping out of the moonlight to carry the tea over. He sets the two mugs down on the desk. "But you forgot the milk."

"Mine doesn't have milk," Tim sniffs, curling his fingers around the mug gratefully. Somehow, it's exactly the right temperature. The heat of the liquid and fire of the ginger set something aflame inside him as he sips.

"Touche."

Martin hops up onto the desk, perching to face Tim. His legs swing back and forth as he blows puffs of steam off his mug, silver curls that seem to stream from his tongue.

They watch each other over the rims of their mugs, basking in the quiet that is anything but silent. Tim can hear the mice in the ceiling, and the night bus passing by outside the window. He can hear the water rushing through the pipes beneath their feet. He can hear every steady beat of Martin's heart.

Who knows what Martin can hear in return.

"Late night?" Martin asks casually, resting back on an arm to peer curiously at Tim. The tea has fogged over his glasses, but Tim is sure Martin can still see him perfectly fine.

Maybe not with the eyes Tim can see, but still.

"It's nice here," Tim shrugs. "I can hide. From everyone but you, of course."

"Why would you hide from me? Then you wouldn't get tea hand delivered to your desk."

"Very true."

"Anyone in particular we're hiding from this evening?"

Tim sighs and leans back in his chair. "You know who."

"Ah." Martin stops swinging his legs and rests one against Tim's. Light, but solid. Reassuring, an anchor to the present, a reminder of the body he inhabits. Or maybe an invitation. Every movement Martin makes has a purpose, and whilst Tim is learning slowly to translate, he's still a long way off.

And Martin keeps changing the meanings.

"He followed me home last night," Tim says. "Different carriage on the tube, different side of the street, several paces behind. It was almost impressive. I'd peg him for the hunt, if not for the fact that the Eye's tied him up in so many knots he's basically married to it."

"You know as well as I do that he's got every entity vying for his soul. Or did you not notice the worms. Or the spiders."

"I thought those were yours," Tim frowns.

Martin looks innocently over his mug. "Did you?"

Through the refraction of his glasses, he has eight eyes.

"Should've known better than to assume, I s'pose."

"You and I know better than anyone that one entity does not monogamy mean."

Tim resists from rolling his eyes. Of course he knows that. The urge of the Hunt led him to the clutches of the Eye. He can feel, just beyond the edges of his perception, a multitude of entities twisting around his thoughts, tugging him in fourteen directions. His hunger for destruction and fire, for the solace of darkness, for blood slick on his fingertips.

He tries not to think about his own capacity for the Strange.

When he looks at Martin, he sees the ghost of silver strings looping around his limbs. He feels that gravity of presence that only the Watcher can bring. The mist that curls around his ankles, laps hungrily at his feet. The swooping in his stomach that could be the dizzy effects of the Spiral, or perhaps just the butterflies that Martin sparks with every gesture.

"He thinks I killed Gertrude," Tim continues.

"Did you?"

Tim just arches a single, slitted eyebrow.

"Oh, fine, I know it wasn't you," Martin rolls his eyes. "I'm just teasing you."

"You're insulting me, Martin," Tim clutches mockingly at his heart. "That kill was messy and imprecise. Could you really see me not hitting the mark first try? Could you see me using a gun?"

"I suppose not," Martin concedes, inclining his head. "You know who it really was, I suppose?"

"Don't you?"

"I asked first."

"You know I know, you're just being a dick."

"I think that's your department of excellence."

"And I think that's Jon's department of excellence."

"You're welcome to tell him who really killed Gertrude and throw him off your scent any time."

"As if he'd believe me. 'Oh, Jon, by the way, your boss? The guy who gave you that job you're ridiculously underqualified and overpaid for so that you'd feel some sense of loyalty towards him? Yeah, he's been manipulating you all this time. Also, he killed your predecessor. Good luck'. Yeah, Martin, that would go just swell."

"So you'd rather he follows you around," Martin deadpans. "What if he decides to break into your flat? I doubt you've bothered to hide the circus murder board and the frankly obscene number of knives you own."

"I own exactly the right number of knives, thank you very much. And what about your flat, huh? Don't your lot sleep in cobwebs and eat flies for breakfast?"

"You're just jealous Jon will probably see my bed before you do," Martin smirks.

Tim is glad the darkness of the room does something to hide the flush in his cheeks.

"Anyway," Martin continues, "my flat is just as normal as the rest of me. A record player, and a double bed, and enough canned food to last a surprise two week siege by worms."

"A real adult," Tim teases. "I bet you do your taxes on time and everything."

"And remember to put my bins out the night before collection, don't forget that one."

"Show off."

"Just because you sleep on a bare mattress and eat food straight from the tin so you have more time to focus on being murderous doesn't make you better than me, Tim."

"Then maybe you should invite me over for dinner some day, show me what real cooking and a real bed looks like."

"I might just."

Even in the moonlight, Tim can pick out the increase of speed in Martin's heartbeat, the dust of pink underneath his moonwashed freckles. His lips are parted slightly, revealing a glint of teeth, a hint of tongue. It's these moments that make every other infuriating second worth it. When he finally throws Martin for a loop, or makes him behave despite himself.

He lives for the moments when he can make Martin break.

"I think," Martin breathes, setting his mug on the desk with a deliberate clink, "that Jon's probably gone to sleep by now."

"So?"

"So, he won't notice you not coming home tonight."

Tim's breath shorts out. "Oh."

Martin's expression turns serious, in that soft, delicate way only Martin can be. "Unless you don't want to?"

"Oh, I want to."

That grin - a sharp, tooth-filled expression he saves only for Tim - returns, sparking something hungry in Tim's chest. Everything is about the chase and the hunt and the dance - a constant journey towards a vanishing destination.

It's- refreshing, what Martin gives him. A hunt with an end goal. A war of power tipping back and forth.

And someone who sees every broken, bloody edge of him and, instead of running away screaming, runs closer. He's sure that, without this strange tension, their shared knowledge and murky pasts, Martin Blackwood wouldn't spare him a second glance.

On nights like this, he's almost glad the circus scattered his life into ribbons. As if Martin could collect them from the ground around him and weave them into something beautiful, if he let him.

Martin reaches forward, plucks Tim's half-full mug from his clutches and sets it beside his own. "Let me lead?" he asks softly, taking Tim's hand and running a thumb over his knuckles.

Tim nods, wordless, breathless, and follows.