#side note but why were Leo’s eyes white initially

[turtleblogatlast]

It’s a good thing that the boys had cute little button eyes when they were babies, because imagine if they had big ol eyes instead, like

[julianalvarez9]

can't sleep (without you) / leandro trossard

request: bestie 🙏🏻🙏🏻 i’m on my knees for a trossard fic/sm!au. honestly, whatever you’re okay with doing. if it’s possible, all i ask is that it’s fluff <3

author's note: bestie this man needs to have more things written about him like 😭😭 he's my little baby. hope this does the trick!!! had the idea for pedri initially but after receiving the request i remembered the wip and said yeah this is for my little sleep deprived boyfriend 🤭🫶🏻

warnings: not really a warning but i use lean as a nickname. i knowww it's generally leo instead, but sometimes lean is used where i live and i thought it was cuter. if you've got any problems with it, you're free to use leo instead :)

summary: the four times you notice leandro's not sleeping well, and the one time he finally does.

wc: 1.400 words

01.

the first time you notice that leandro's not getting enough sleep, it's during practice. your job is to keep them healthy, not only on the physical aspect and thus, on the pitch, but off the green grass too. you've noticed he's been a little off lately, not really focused on the task given and rather looking zoned out. so when practice's over, you approach him carefully.

"hey, leandro, are you okay?" you softly said, grabbing lightly his bicep to stop him from getting onto the changing rooms. he stops when he feels your touch, and turns to face you, concerned look showing on your features which transmitted onto his own. "yeah, why do you ask?" he frowned, while tilting his head in confusion.

"you look... tired?".

the affirmation you said isn't quite what he expected to hear from you. leandro doesn't get mad at you, but he doesn't look happy either. "oh" he mutters, assuming that you're implying that he looks bad. "no no, you look good" you rush to justify, cheeks getting profusely warmer at the confession that slipped from your lips. "just that you could use a nap, you know?".

"yeah, i could," leandro smiled, showing his pearly white teeth. "i'll take your advice. thank you, y/n."

02.

"how was your weekend?" the belgian asks, lightly leaning into the coffee vending machine situated on the end of the corridor. you were supposed to be watching the players, supervising them, but the air on london colney was too cold right now, and you needed a hot beverage to warm you up. leandro, on the other hand, should be warming up already, but instead was too distracted making small talk with you. "catching up on sleep, really needed it. you?".

"i did that too," he commented nonchalantly, rushing to get to your side once you started making your way towards the pitch again, leaving him behind. "sleeping for four hours isn't catching up on sleep, trossard," you deadpanned. it isn't the first time that you reprimanded him about how many hours he rested through the night, but leandro always pushed it off. "five hours is enough for you?".

"that's three hours less than the minimum required".

03.

"are you asleep?".

leandro's voice brings you back to consciousness, even if it was through a soft whisper. you're quite annoyed at being woken up so suddenly, and it shows in your response to his question. "clearly," you mutter, but remain still as you were before, giving the impression that you could fall asleep again any second. "c'mon, liefje, don't be mean," he whispers, while gently tapping your shoulder to catch your attention. you begrudgingly take the mask that was covering your eyes to sleep off, and look at him through tired eyes. "what is it, lean?".

things had started to get more personal lately, hence the utilization of the dutch pet name the arsenal player had given you a couple of weeks ago. in return, you adopted the nickname lean -short for leandro- for him, and you were marveled at how easy it seemed with him suddenly. calling him lean felt right, just as him calling you little treasure in his mother tongue felt.

"should have told you before you agreed to sit with me, but i'm kinda scared of airplanes".

you didn't want to laugh at him, but the giggle left your mouth without warning you. part of his job involved him travelling around to places, so it seemed kinda funny to you that he would be scared of planes. leo faked getting angry at your impromptu reaction, but it was quickly swapped to a pout that made your heart swell. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to laugh at you", you apologized, before continuing "what do you need me to do? do you need some sleeping pills? for me to sing you a song? hold your hand?".

the artificial light on the plane lets you see just barely how his cheeks turn into a slightly reddish color. "t-that's actually a good idea. i think. if you're up for it."

you don't know if it's your need to reassure him, or that you want to go back to sleep as soon as possible, but you extend your arm quickly, searching for his left hand that's resting awkwardly on his lap. the armrest separating both of you isn't the most practical thing, making his arm fall weirdly into your seat and, for sure, causing him discomfort. you drop his hand before trying to raise the armrest, and at first, he doesn't quite understand why you dropped his palm. until you grab it again without him having to tell you twice, and he smiles when he feels you mindlessly drawing circles onto the back of his hand.

"goodnight, my pretty little sleep deprived boy".

04.

the entire team has just arrived at the stadium where arsenal is supposed to play in a few hours. you're all waiting for the call to actually enter the facility, and meanwhile, you're keeping conversation with martin, -seated by your side now-, leandro and kiernan.

you're not paying attention to what they're saying, though, because you're keeping an eye on the belgian. when he yawns, again, you can't help but call him out for it. "leandro, that’s the third time in the last two minutes that you’ve yawned", you chastised, and martin at your side whips is head just in time to catch his teammate yawning a fourth time.

"i promise i'm not tired. i slept well last night", he assures, and you frown, not quite believing it due to the dark circles under his eyes, just a shade darker than they were the day before. "i'll make sure he takes a nap after this game, y/n", the boy seated at his side promises, patting his back lovingly. soon enough, martin joins too. "you'll need to stay with him, kiernan. he told me once he needs to have someone by his side to sleep well".

05.

tonight, you were at his house for the first time. like friends. leandro had set up a movie for you to watch, and some snacks on the little table nearby for you two to eat from. your sense of time isn't the best, but you can guess that it's been almost halfway through the movie. but at this point, you're not sure if the man at your side is even paying attention right now. it's been about 20 minutes since he retorted to rest his head on your lap, and you didn't oppose it, instead starting to caress his long locks mindlessly.

the soft snores catched your attention right away, but you didn't have the heart to wake him up. not when he looks so cute while sleeping, and certainly not when you know he's not the best at sleeping through the night.

eventually, the movie ends, and even if you try not to move too much, you're sure your left leg has gone numb by now. leandro seems to be a light sleeper, because at the littlest movement from you, he's already awake.

"did i fall asleep?" he ask, voice hoarse from sleep. he normally has soft, puppy eyes, but now that they're filled with sleepiness, the sight is even cuter to you. "yeah, you did," you giggle, and he drives his hands to his face, hiding away, embarrassed. he doesn't get to catch onto your lovesick stare, and you're kinda grateful for it.

"ey, no. don't feel bad about it. i actually thought it was pretty cute," you reassure, although, just like the first time you complimented him, it's something that slips past your lips. you get to see the little wrinkles near his eyes, where his hands don't quite cover, before he turns, giving his back to the television. leandro continues hiding his face, but now on your tummy, your sweatshirt muffling the plea that he slowly mutters. "can you stay with me tonight? i can't seem to fall asleep on my own these days".

your cheeks go warm at the implication that you might be what he needs to have a well rested night of sleep. during the little nap he took, he barely moved, and even if it wasn't the most comfortable position -his legs were cramped up together- his sleep seemed to be peaceful. "y-yeah, if it's what you need to sleep well".

"almost sure you're what i need, liefje".

[otomeheadcanonical]

Things I learned from the Piofiore blog that change my headcanon game(but they’re not really that surprising)*contains spoilers*

Yang likes spicy food and can cook really well.

Dante is practically useless at cooking and gets sick really easily.

Nicola is flawless at housework, but gets sick easily like Dante. (not as much tho)

Yang and Orlok actually know how to handle guns, they just choose not to.

Gilbert is equally useless at cooking like Dante, but doesn’t get as sick as him.

Yang caught a cold once and it was described as a “demonic disturbance”.  relatable 

Orlok can hold his liquor better than Yang (first off, who’s giving the baby alcohol?)

There is no embarrassed sprite/CG for Yang because it’s “useless”. Yang simply does not feel shy.

Nicola likes fish more than meat...*insert dirty joke*

EVERYONE IS EQUALLY JEALOUS/POSSESIVE, THERE IS NO NEED FOR RANKING. however, who’s more likely to kill the protag or others from their jealousy is up for debate.

Yang’s flower motif is oleander which symbolizes seduction and bewitching desire.*insert dirty joke*

Like Yang, Nicola also wakes up in a bad mood in the morning. Leo is terrified of waking him up.

Orlok’s mother and father were 26 years apart in age. If you know, you know

Emilio is actually kinda cruel, don’t be fooled by his sweet façade. He’s also around my height and that intimidates yet inspires me.

*side note before continuing: someone sent a letter to the blog about how yang was their favorite character from the get go and that Piofiore was their first otome game and the creator was slightly concerned for them*

Yang likes any alcohol that is strong.

Dante likes white wine.

Orlok doesn’t like alcohol, but he prefers strong liquor.(stop giving this baby alcohol!)

Yang’s tongue is actually sensitive to hot food because he wasn’t used to eating warm food as a child. 

Orlok is weak to tickling.

Orlok smells like soap.

Dante has a foot/leg fetish...

Orlok has a hand fetish *cries in vanilla*

Yang...likes ass. *cough sirmixalot cough*

Gilbert likes bitties.

Nicola likes the nape of the neck. *I kinda understand why there is so much vampire fics of him.*

For how physically weak he is, Dante actually has really good eyesight.

Yang’s eyesight is slightly better than Gilbert’s but worse than Nicola. *why the old men gotta be so blind*

Yang is a dog person mainly because they have more meat on them to eat than cats. *cries*

Nicola and Gilbert are dog people.

Orlok and Dante are cat people.

Yuan has tiny red dots under his eyes and his motif is a snake. *insert dirty joke I made on twitter* *also, i want more yuan content*

Yuan is the most powerful of all the sub characters in Piofiore 1926

Orlok is the most powerful person in the first game, but because the protag is his weakness, he can be defeated somewhat easily.

If Orlok and Yuan were to fight, either one has an equal chance of winning. 

If Yang and Orlok were to fight in the sequel, Yang might win by a little.

Henri can fight, but he chooses not to. He can kinda beat Dante’s ass by a lil bit.

In terms of creating art, the love interests are as ranked Gilbert > Nicola > Orlok > Dante > Yang=Henri

Dante makes boring art and Yang and Henri never had opportunities to create art so its not that they’re bad at it, they just...don’t.

Orlok doesn’t really have a sense for aesthetic.

Yuan initially took care of Yang because he thought they were similar. However Yang is capable of creating his own entertainment and Yuan admires that part of him so he kept Yang around for that. 

Nicola and Yang don’t get along at all. *but like, that’s obvious*

And that’s it for me. There’s some more but I only picked the ones that really interested me.

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain​ for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

.

Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

.

~*~

.

“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined��. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

.

“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

.

~*~

.

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

.

~*~

.

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 13

A/N: We’re getting into some seeeeerious business now.  Thank you all so much for your anons and DMs about last chapter!  Hopefully you all enjoy this one despite the subject matter.  

Also, if you didn’t see my post, I created a Ko-Fi page in case you ever want to support my work / my writing: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster .  I love all of you so much and appreciate the reader engagement I have with you SO much!

TW: workplace harassment

December 21st, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was in a meeting.

Brendan was addressing the room, full of practically everybody who worked on the administrative side of the Leafs.  Because it was just a few days until Christmas, he wanted to address everybody before the holiday to thank them for their hard work.  It was also the day that Brendan decided to hand out the Christmas gifts for all the employees – a “swag bag” with a S’well bottle, candy and chocolate from Sugarfina, a coffee tumbler from Yeti, a Patagonia sweater with a Leafs embroider, and a Raptors toque.  Aberdeen knew because she helped assemble them – literally and figuratively, because Brendan had asked for her opinion on a few of the inclusions.  She was happy to see everybody loved the gifts.

As the meeting began to wind down, Brendan singled out some specific people who had earned a promotion.  She was glad they were getting the recognition they deserved, because she knew how hard everyone worked.  It was a great gesture, and a nice way to wind down the meeting – letting everybody leave on a good note—

“And my executive assistant, Aberdeen Bloom,” Brendan’s words completely caught her by surprise.  She could feel a blush rush to her cheeks as many of the eyes in the room focused on her.  “Just a couple of weeks ago, Aberdeen pulled off the nearly impossible – she managed to track down Niklas Lidstrom while he was in Toronto to get a signed Tre Kronor jersey from 2006 for our special guest, Colonel Richard Brant.  But not only did she get the jersey – get this – she got Nik to come meet the colonel backstage.”

There was a round of applause for Aberdeen.  Now she was really embarrassed.  There was no reason for him to single her out like this – like she told him, she was just doing her job.  She smiled awkwardly at everyone.  Even Brendan was clapping.  When it died down, he continued.  “So, even though she had a bit of a rough start – like everybody does when they first start with the Leafs – I’m so happy to see how much she’s grown and integrated herself into our family.  So…great work, Aberdeen!”

Another round of applause.  Aberdeen continued to smile awkwardly and even through in an awkward wave for good measure.  Brendan said a few more words before the meeting ended, everybody filing out of the room patiently.  When she approached him, as one of the last bodies to leave, she gave him a stern look.  “How’d you like that?” Brendan asked.

“Please never, ever do that again,” she said, giggling at the end.

“Why not?”

“Because I told you I was just doing my job.”

Brendan shrugged his shoulders.  “And you did a damn good job of it, so everybody should know.”

As they walked back into his office together, she saw a perfectly wrapped box lying on his desk on top of all his newspapers and other things.  It was very, very rare that things were delivered directly to him – usually it went through her first, and Brendan had no problem with her opening his work mail because it was part of her job and all his personal stuff got sent to his house anyway – so it definitely piqued her interest.  “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s your gift.”

Aberdeen’s brows furrowed.  “But I got my swag bag in the room.”

“I know that, silly,” he smiled.  “It’s my gift to you.”  Aberdeen stopped dead in her tracks, giving Brendan another look.  “What?” he asked.  “Are you seriously surprised?  You think I wouldn’t get you something?”

“Sort of…” Aberdeen admitted.  “But also…I was going to give you my gift to you on Monday.  It’s underneath my desk,” she laughed.

Brendan let out a hearty chuckle.  “Why’d you get me a gift?”

“You’re my boss!”

“Go get it.  We’re doing it now.  I’ll be too busy with kids being everywhere on Monday.”

Aberdeen quickly made her way to her desk and retrieved the gift, hidden in her bottom drawer.  It wasn’t large by any means, but she did put thought into it and she did have to enlist her mom for some help.  When she went back into his office, he closed the door behind them.  “It’s not much…” she began, comparing the size of the box on his desk to hers.

“You should be saving your money anyway,” he quipped.

Aberdeen sat in one of the chairs and handed him his gift across his desk.  He unwrapped the Christmas wrapping paper to see something wrapped in tissue paper and a Prada box.  Taking off the top of the Prada box, he was greeted with a blue and white patterned silk tie.  He shook his head but smiled.  “Aberdeen…”

“I had to get you something from Prada one of these days since you always send me there,” she smiled.  

“I love it.  It’s very fashionable.  What are the kids saying these days?  It’s lit?”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s lit, Aberdeen.  Thank you.”

“Thanks.  Although I think you’ll like the other gift better,” she said.

Brendan placed the box with the tie on his desk and focused on what was wrapped in the tissue paper.  When he unwrapped it, he saw that it was a card, made out of thick construction paper glued together.  Along the front were the words “With Love from St. Leo”, and in the middle, a big maple leaf cut out and painted with multi-coloured fingerprints.  When he opened it, the card had been signed by every student from her mom’s grade one class.  A small message was printed out by her mom:

Dear Mr. Shanahan,

We love the Toronto Maple Leafs and we love you!  We heard you came to this school a long time ago.  You and the Maple Leafs can come visit our class anytime you want and we can show you how well we read!

Love, Mrs. Bloom’s grade 1 class

Aberdeen watched as Brendan read over the card, looking at all the names printed, and his eyes glossed over with tears.  He smiled.  “Well would you look at that…” he mumbled, nodding his head slightly.  He already knew he was going to display this forever in his office.

“She means it, by the way,” Aberdeen said, trying to lighten the mood.  She didn’t think it would get him so emotional.

“Oh, I believe it,” he nodded again.  “This is really, really special to me Aberdeen.  Thank you.  I…it’s always nice to remember where you came from, you know?  This will remind me,” his tone was so sincere.  

“You’re most welcome,” she smiled.  

Brendan moved to display it on his desk.  He composed himself before picking up the box that started this whole thing and handing it to her.  “For you,” he said.  “Although I don’t know if it’ll top that card.”

She unwrapped the pretty ribbon and beautiful wrapping paper – clearly Catherine or one of his kids had helped, because for all the skills he had, she didn’t think he was capable of this wrapping on his own.  As she tore it apart, a box with the embossed logo and lettering of Smythson London stared back at her.  Aberdeen stopped.  “You didn’t.”

Brendan only smiled at her.

She was already overwhelmed because she knew how expensive Smythson London notebooks were – the smallest, cheapest, and most basic notebook ran for around £40.  But when she opened the box to find three notebooks – two small navy blue Soho notebooks retailing at £195 each and a large gold Portobello notebook retailing at £235, each of them personalized with her initials which she knew cost even more – she felt even more overwhelmed.  “Brendan…” she whispered, running her fingers over the embossed calf leather.

“I hear writers write in notebooks or something,” he joked once he saw the look on her face.  “Anyway, I want you to have these.  And when you get published and become super famous and they display all your notebooks in museums like they do with Charles Dickens or Jane Austen, I want to see one of those behind the glass.”

“I hope I get published one day…” she said quietly, almost to herself.  

“You will,” Brendan said assuredly.

Aberdeen nodded.  The material part of his assertion was nice – the notebooks – but what obviously meant more to her was the sentiment.  Hearing his tone and the confidence in his voice meant that he believed in her.  He wanted her to succeed.  That meant more to her than anything.  “Thank you, Brendan,” Aberdeen said in the same sincere tone he thanked her with earlier.  “That means a lot to me.”

Brendan could only smile again.  “I like to think I knew what I was doing when I hired you.”

“Was it all part of the Shanaplan?”

“Do not,” he giggled, shaking his head.  He hated that term, and she knew it.  “Go on.  Get out of here.  Go start your novel on your lunch break or something.  Actually, before you do, can you go down to scouting and give them these for me please,” he said, handing her a stack of files.

She smiled.  All was right and normal in the world again.

***

It was a few hours later when Aberdeen found herself in the staff kitchen, warming up a croissant she’d gotten earlier in the day from Starbucks as a snack before she and Brendan had to start preparing for the game against the Red Wings.  She had a fresh batch of files from scouting in her arm for Brendan to look over as she stuck the croissant in the microwave.  It was then that Ethan walked in, no snack in hand but instead wielding a tea packet.  She ignored him.  She wasn’t going to grace his presence with a greeting and, though it was probably a bit immature, she didn’t care.  He’d said and done enough to her that she didn’t want to be the first one to engage at all.  

“Good afternoon,” Ethan half-mumbled, engaging first.

Aberdeen looked at him.  “Hello,” she said curtly.

“Nice swag bags, huh?” he asked, trying to engage more.  Aberdeen only nodded her head.  “Did you put them together?”

“Of course I did.”

She hoped her short responses and tone were getting across that she didn’t want to speak to him, but Ethan couldn’t read a room to save his life, so he kept going.  “You know, a lot of us were jealous in that meeting that Brendan was praising you so much,” he said.  “We couldn’t believe you pulled that Lidstrom thing off.”

“Guess I’m surprising a lot of people lately,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders, setting the files down on the counter.  He didn’t have to tell her people were jealous.  She had a hunch that it was only him who was jealous, and not anybody else in his department.  “Especially you.”

“He must really like you to publicly praise you like that.  He doesn’t do that often, you know.”

“Does that officially make me better at my job than you?” she asked cheekily.  “You know, after you told me I can’t do the job at the Major Donor Gala.”

Ethan threw his head back at the fact that she brought that up again.  He moved to stand behind her as she stuck her food in the microwave.  “Abbie, come on.  You know I rib you because I think you’re good at your job.”

Well that was news to her, because for the last three and a half months, all he’d been doing was making her job a living hell and telling her how much she couldn’t do her job.  This complete 180 was out of the norm, even for him.  “You’ve known me for three and a half months and you’ve consistently called me every name in the book besides my actual name,” she said, turning around to face him, bringing up the other thing that was annoying her about this whole interaction.  “Don’t try to suck up to me now just because you know for a fact Brendan actually likes me.”

“Aberdeen, do you realize how cutthroat the hockey world really is?” Ethan began.  It was at that moment that she realized how close he really was to her; how there wasn’t much room between the two counters of the galley kitchen anyway, but that he was closer to her than normal, than what anybody would consider normal, and it was starting to make her a bit nervous.  “Do you realize how much backstabbing there is?  How many people cross each other all the time just to get promoted or get ahead?  If the little guys like us are going to survive in this industry, or any other industry adjacent to this one, we’re going to need to stick together.”

Aberdeen shook her head.  “You’re trying to use me and it’s so blatantly obvious,” she said sternly, turning around so she wasn’t facing him anymore.  She didn’t want to face him anymore.  “You can’t fool me, Ethan.  Now get out.”

“C’mon, Abbie,” his voice was low, and extremely, extremely close to her ear.  She could practically feel him breathing down her neck.

Then she realized.

“Stop calling me that.”  She tried to make her voice sound strong but it only came out weak as she felt his body pressing up against her back.  Angry tears welled in her eyes as her emotions broke through.  Her chest began to rise and drop from her heavy breaths.

“Abbie, the hockey world is full of favours that help people move up and excel at their job,” Ethan said.

And then she felt it.  His hand on her ass.  Her mind went into overdrive.  She shifted and reached her elbow up and across to push it away, which she did, thankfully.  “Get your hands off me,” she said as firmly as she could.

She turned around quickly so he couldn’t do it again.  Her back leaned against the counter, and she saw he had taken a small step back, but they were still unnaturally close.  “Abbie—”

“Get away from me,” she tried again.

“Just listen—”

“Is things okay in here?” a deep voice asked from the door way.  Ethan took a quick step back further as the both of them looked to see Pierre Engvall standing in the doorway awkwardly, holding a protein shake.  He seemed to be assessing the situation, but Aberdeen had no clue how long he had been standing there.  She would have seen him, she thought, if he had been there long.  

“Pierre!  Good to see you up here buddy!” Ethan put a smile on his face, walking over to him.  Ethan left her standing at the kitchen counter, chest still heaving.  “Feeling good being up with the Leafs?” he asked, switching his demeanour completely.  Aberdeen felt sick to her stomach at how fast he could switch from doing what he was trying to do, to being so buddy-buddy with Pierre.  

“Is there a party going on in here?” another voice asked from out in the hall.

Aberdeen’s stomach dropped.  Right then and there, William popped into the doorway.  He looked between Ethan’s shit eating grin, Pierre’s serious stare, and Aberdeen’s face, red from trying to hold back her emotion as her chest still heaved.  His brows furrowed.  “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine!” Ethan said quickly, shifting to get out of the room.  He looked over his shoulder once more at Aberdeen, taking his phone out of his pocket.  “I’ll email you what Brendan was asking for as soon as I get back,” he called out as he left the room, walking down the hall and disappearing up the staircase.

William was trying to piece everything together.  He looked at Aberdeen.  “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, forgetting about her lunch and gathering the files folders quickly and messily in her arms.  

“Aberdeen—”

“Just leave me alone!” she whispered harshly as she shoved past the two large hockey players.

William and Pierre watched as she marched down the hallway, disappearing into the staff washroom.  When they couldn’t see her anymore, William looked at Pierre.  “What happened?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Pierre shook his head, trying to piece together and remember everything that he saw – at least the tail end that he saw – with all the visual, emotional, and verbal cues that just happened.  “I…I walked in and he was really close to her and—and—you don’t think—”

William saw red.  He didn’t even wait for Pierre to finish his thought or sentence – he started marching down the hallway to Brendan’s office.  Pierre followed.

He was the eyes, after all.

***

Aberdeen didn’t know how long she was in the washroom for.  She didn’t know how long she’d been crying but also trying to keep herself from not crying and just making herself redder in the process.  She couldn’t believe that had just happened to her…that Ethan would do something so awful and so heinous.  It had happened to her at clubs before – a quick squeeze or a pat on her ass, unwanted grabs of her hips, or awkward leans ins to try to get a kiss – but in those instances, she was able to swat the boys away, scream at them or tell them off, or her friends would intervene and help.  She didn’t do that this time, for some reason.  She couldn’t, maybe.  Maybe because they were alone?  Because she truly felt helpless?  Because she really did feel like Ethan could get away with whatever he wanted – he had been for the past few months with her alone, she couldn’t even imagine what he was doing to other people, specifically to other women – so what was the point?

But as she kept thinking about it, she came to a conclusion: that she couldn’t let him ruin her life because she still had her whole life ahead of her.  That even though she’d just become another statistic – another woman sexually harassed at work – it wasn’t her primary identifier, and she would never let it identify her.  She was so much more than that.  She had to put it behind her and had to overcome.  

She looked at herself in the mirror.  Her eyes were red, but there was nothing she could do now.  All she could do was keep doing her job.  And all she had to do was avoid Brendan until she looked normal again.  She unlocked the door and stepped out, trying to walk inconspicuously down the hallway.

“ABERDEEN!” Brendan called out loudly from his office.

She stopped dead in her tracks in the hallway.  She didn’t even have time to go hide from him, let alone breathe, because Brendan popped his head out the door of his office and looked around feverishly.  When he saw her, he immediately noticed the redness in her eyes and cheeks.  “Aberdeen, I need to speak to you inside my office,” his voice went ten times softer than what it was.

She was caught.  She followed him in, trying to think of ways she could lie to him or make an excuse for why she had been crying.  But when she walked in and saw Pierre and William standing in the room, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to get out of it.  She sat down in the same chair she had been sitting in earlier in the day.  It felt different now than it had then, when they were exchanging gifts.  “Why were you crying in the bathroom?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I watched a sad video on YouTube and—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan said firmly but calmly.  He looked her straight in the eye.  “Do.  Not.  Lie.  To.  Me.”

She took a deep breath.  She looked at Pierre, who had a sympathetic and extremely worried look on his face.  She looked at William, who looked ready to explode right then and there.  “Umm…there…there was an incident—”

“An incident?”

“In the staff kitchen.”

“With who?” Brendan asked.  “Was it with Pierre or William?”

“No.  God, no,” she shook her head vehemently.  “It, um…it was…I don’t…I don’t—”

“Was it with Ethan Baker?” Brendan filled in her stutters.  He could see how pained she was.  His hands gripped the armrests of his chair.  Aberdeen couldn’t look him in the eye.  She nodded her head once, bringing her hand up to wipe a tear away.  “If we check the cameras will we see that he touched you inappropriately?” Brendan asked again.  Clearly William and Pierre had told him what they thought happened.

Aberdeen couldn’t – didn’t – even register that Brendan mentioned cameras, that the entire thing was probably caught on a camera.  She couldn’t form words.  She could only nod her head.  Slightly, too.  Not even enthusiastically.  Pathetically.  

Brendan didn’t say another word.  He picked up the phone on his desk and called an extension.  “I need Gary to share the last hour of the security footage from the staff kitchen right this instant.”

Aberdeen shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  A few more words were exchanged before Brendan hung up the phone.  “You’re going to tell me what happened,” he said, before spinning his chair slightly to face Pierre and William.  “And then you are going to tell me what you saw,” he pointed towards Pierre, who followed Brendan’s finger and sat to the left of Aberdeen, “and then you are going to tell me what you saw,” he pointed towards William, who sat to the right of her.

Aberdeen recalled everything: walking in, the conversation they’d had, the things Ethan had said to her, where he moved and how he got there and the feeling of how close he was behind her.  Brendan wrote everything down.  When she recounted how she felt his hand on her ass, Brendan and Pierre visibly scowled.  William looked like he was about to punch a hole in the wall.  When she mentioned Pierre in the doorway, Brendan stopped her and let Pierre take over.  Pierre told her what he saw – he’d come in at the last possible second of seeing Ethan’s hand on her ass before she pushed it away.  When it was William’s turn, he mentioned how upset Aberdeen was and how she looked ready to cry.  A notification sound came through on Brendan’s iPad and she knew it was the video footage.

“Aberdeen…” Brendan tried to say softly, though he was saying it through gritted teeth.  “Have there been any other incidents like this one?”

She shook her head.  “No.”

“Has he even been inappropriate or demeaning in any other way?”

And there it was: the million dollar question.  She remembered everything Ethan had done to her and everything he’d said; she was hyperaware of his presence around her at all times since her first day of work, so she felt like she had to remember everything.  In her hesitation, she made eye contact with William.  The way he was staring at her, it was like he was begging her to say something.  But William.  Poor William.  He only knew about the bag incident because he had intervened.  Now the floodgates were about to open.  “Yes…” Aberdeen nodded her head, taking a deep breath.  

“What were they?”

Aberdeen reminded Brendan of the coffee incident from her first day, but then recalled the long list of others: the bag carrying incident where William stepped in; the “Girl Friday” and “Brendan girl” nicknames he’d given her; the slightly inappropriate flirting at the Major Donor Gala and the things he’d said to her when she didn’t reciprocate; the comments he’d made to her at the Christmas party.  Brendan kept writing everything down.  The more she told, the angrier his scribbles got and the harder he pressed down onto the paper.  The more she told, the more William looked like he was about to rip Brendan’s massive solid oak desk in two with his bare hands like Captain America did with that log.

“Anything else?” Brendan asked.

Aberdeen hesitated.  “Um…no.”

“Aberdeen.”

She could feel William look at her as she looked down to avoid any eyes on her.  “There was um…there was an incident where I was in the staff kitchen heating up a snack wrap, and he asked if I should really be eating it because nobody likes a piggy working for a hockey team.”

Time stood still as Brendan, Pierre, and William looked at her, completely and utterly speechless at the words that had just come out of her mouth.  She tried to fixate her eyes on something in the room, but she landed on William’s balled up fist in his lap, his knuckles white from how much anger he felt.  It took Brendan reaching over to his phone and dialling another extension for any semblance of time to pass.  “Can you let Ethan Baker know he needs to come into my office in ten minutes?  Thanks.”

Aberdeen knew what that meant.  “Brendan—”

“Don’t Aberdeen,” he grabbed his iPad and swiped to his mail to get the security footage.  Everything that Aberdeen had said, what Pierre had said, what Willy said – it was all corroborated by the video.  Ethan wouldn’t be able to get out of it no matter how hard he tried; no matter what charms he tried to pull on Brendan.  Not that Brendan would fall for them.  “He’s never working another day in his life for any professional sports organization,” Brendan mumbled.  “And I’ll make sure of that.”

Aberdeen was shocked.  “That’s—that’s ruining his life—”

“You’re right – I am the one ruining his life,” Brendan said sternly, lifting any feelings of burden off of her immediately.  

“And he deserves to have it ruined,” William piped up, his tone scathing.  Pierre nodded in agreement.

“You two can go back to the locker room and do what you need to do to prepare for the game tonight,” he said to Pierre and William.  Pierre got up first, and had to wait for William, who didn’t want to leave.  It wasn’t until Brendan urged him with a slight head nod that he got up out of his seat.  Brendan waited until they left completely to continue.  “You can go home, Aberdeen.  If you want to take the Next Gen day off I won’t mind at all—”

“I don’t want to.”

Brendan stopped.  “You what?”

“I don’t want to go home and I don’t want to take the Next Gen day off.  Just let me do my job,” she said.

“Aberdeen, I really think—”

“If I go home all I’m going to do is wallow in this feeling.  All I’m going to do is think about it over and over again until I cry some more.  I don’t want to let him get to me more than he already has.  Just…just let me do my job.  Please.”

***

William booked it out of Scotiabank Arena the second he was able to.  Despite the team winning 4-1 against the Red Wings, William’s mind was somewhere else.  He was able to keep focused, sure, and make plays and complete passes, but there were other things that occupied his mind.  He didn’t even change into his suit – after showers and media, he left in his workout gear.  There was no point in suiting up.  He knew exactly the places he needed to go and exactly what he needed to do.  

When he got to the lobby of Aberdeen’s apartment, he typed Kasha’s name into the call system and waited to hear one of their voices to let him in.  However, there was no voice – only an acceptance of the call, and a click of the door opening.  He rushed towards the elevators.  He remembered the floor number easily.  

The door was already slightly open.  When William showed up in the doorway there were three people in the apartment, and luckily, none of them were members of Aberdeen’s family.  He didn’t take her as the type to have her parents talk her through a crisis like this one – she was too independent and maybe a bit too stubborn for that – but he knew she’d already called Siena about it.  It was what he would do with his brother.  Aberdeen had already washed all her makeup off and had her hair in a bun, and was standing in a hoodie and pyjama shorts as she cradled Minerva in her arms.  He recognized one of the people as Kasha, but had no idea who the guy was.

Kasha was the first to see him.  Her eyes widened when she recognized him.  “William?”

Everybody’s eyes turned to him.  Aberdeen’s were bulging out of their sockets in shock.  He saw that they were red – that she’d been crying again, probably recounting everything to Kasha once she got home.  “Hey,” he said.

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at him.  Kasha noticed that William was shifting his focus between Evan and Aberdeen and knew she had to be the one to break it.  “Will, this is my boyfriend Evan.  Evan, uh, this is William Nylander.  Aberdeen’s…uh…work colleague.”

Evan moved to shake William’s hand politely.  “You guys work together?” he asked, his voice upbeat.  “Are you another assistant with MLSE?”

Kasha intervened before anybody else could.  “Evan, William’s a player for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Evan’s eyes widened at the revelation.  It began to sink in to him how…interesting it was to have a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs in the apartment of his girlfriend.  “Ooooooooh, okay,” he nodded slowly.  “Sorry.  I don’t watch hockey.”

“It’s probably better that way,” William quipped.

“I…that was you calling?” Kasha asked.  William nodded his head.  “I thought you were the Uber Eats we ordered.”

“I’m not Uber Eats but I brought Sugo for…uh…” he held up the bag.

“Sugo’s been closed for like, two hours…” Kasha furrowed her brows.

“They’re not when you’re…me,” William said.  He stared directly at Aberdeen.  “Can we talk?”

Aberdeen stayed silent.  She looked at Kasha and Evan first.  Kasha held her hands up in front of her.  “Don’t look at me.  He’s your friend.”

“Kasha—”

“I don’t mind him being here at all,” she said, knowing what the question would be.  If she had to push them together herself, she would.  “And you know I’m not going to say a word.  He won’t say anything either,” she nodded towards Evan.  “If you guys need to talk, then talk.  Evan and I will be in my room.”

“We will?” Evan asked as Kasha yanked his arm.  “We will.  Nice to meet you Will,” he said as he was dragged towards Kasha’s bedroom, the door slamming behind them.

Aberdeen and William looked at each other.  She’d barely moved since he walked in the door.  She knew with every fibre of her being that he wasn’t supposed to be here, but she couldn’t help but feel…solace? relief? gratitude? as he stood there with his blonde hair and blue eyes and that dumb but cute look on his face.  “I got some pasta and their giant meatballs,” he said softly, setting the bag down on the counter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a bit strained.

“What do you think I’m doing here, minskatt?” he asked.  “I needed to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to brush him off.

“Aberdeen…” he said softly.  “I’m trying to be here for you.  Will you let me?”

His words sounded so soft and so sincere that it almost broke her.  There was no way she could say no, no way that she could ask him to leave and deny him.  After everything that they’d been through, after everything he’d ever said to her, the hotel room visits, everything – she couldn’t deny him this.  He wanted to be there for her, and she was going to let him.  She swallowed the sob that threatened to escape her.  “Plate that pasta and bring it to my room,” she said quietly.

William’s eyes bulged in shock for a split second before he began moving around the kitchen trying to find an appropriate plate.  He kicked off his shoes before grabbing a fork and walking into her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.  He looked around, and it was just as he remembered it.  It had been a while, but the events of that night in June still played over and over in his mind.  If he thought about it hard enough, he could imagine the feeling of her bare skin underneath his fingertips.  

He found her sitting on her daybed, Minerva lying on her legs and her laptop on her desk chair that was placed at the edge of her bed like a TV stand.  He handed her the plate full of pasta and meatballs before climbing into bed beside her, sitting right next to her so their bodies were touching.  “He deserved what he got, you know.  After that piggy story I wanted to go to his office and strangle him with my bare hands.”

She nodded her head softly.  “I know.  I got that from seeing how white your knuckles were in your lap.”

“Do you want to know how Brendan did it?” he asked.  She didn’t respond, so he just went for it.  “He called Ethan into his office and he asked him what his dream hockey organizations were to work for.  As Ethan said them, Brendan wrote them down.  Then Brendan showed him the video, and in front of Ethan, called the president or GM of the teams he mentioned and blacklisted him.  He told them never to hire him because he was a sexual harasser.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to think.  She knew William didn’t tell her that to get a reaction out of her, and she knew he wasn’t expecting one either.  It was harsh, very harsh.  Ethan’s career in the sports industry was ruined, that was for sure.  It was a fitting end to a guy who was such a dick.  And more than anything, she realized one important thing: Brendan cared about her.  He cared about her so much he’d ruin another man’s career for harming hers.  “Good,” she mumbled.  

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that was going on?” he asked.  “You promised me you’d tell me, Aberdeen, and you broke that promise.”

She shook her head.  She couldn’t deal with this right now.  She knew she should have said something earlier, but she was the lowest person on the metaphorical totem pole, and she didn’t think it was worth William’s time or effort.  “Please don’t.”

“I could have helped you, Aberdeen—”

“William, please,” her tone was strained, her voice begging.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  I don’t want to keep reliving it.  I just want to sit here with you and eat this giant plate of pasta with these giant meatballs, okay?  Please.”

William looked at her for a few moments, directly into her eyes, before he nodded his head.  It was all he could do.  He didn’t want to make her relive it any more than she had to.  And, quite frankly, he didn’t want to have to think about it, because thinking about what Ethan did to her made his blood boil and made him want to search every street and apartment in the city for Ethan so he could punch him.  She’d let her guard down, however minimally, and said she wanted to sit there with him.  If him sitting next to Aberdeen was going to make her feel okay, he was going to do just that.  If just being there, physically, was enough for her, then it was enough for him.  “What are we watching?”

“The Real Housewives of New York City.”

He smiled.  “Alright.  Real Housewives it is.”

With Minerva sleeping on her legs, Aberdeen downed the plate of pasta.  William couldn’t really keep up with the show, with all its drama and all the ladies gossiping over events he had no clue about, but that didn’t really matter.  All he was really focused on was Aberdeen.  And as her body language softened the more she worked through the giant plate of pasta, the more comfortable she became.  When she was done, she leaned forward and put the plate on her dresser.  She’d deal with it later.  

When she curled her arm underneath his, he rested his hand on her legs and she leaned her head onto his bicep.  Their bodies couldn’t be any closer, and now they were starting to intertwine.  It wasn’t long before her breathing steadied, and when the screen went dark during a scene, William could see through the reflection that she was sleeping peacefully against him.  He closed the laptop with his foot.  

He moved to lie her down in her bed.  The disruption in position made her grumble slightly, though she was still latched on to his arm.  “Willy?” she mumbled out.

The use of his nickname that everyone else called him but she never did until now brought a small smile to his face.  “Minskatt?”

She didn’t say anything else, but she made it clear she didn’t want to let him go.  And she showed it by grabbing onto him tighter.  When he lay down in her tiny bed with her – seriously, it was tiny and there was barely enough room for his body, let alone both of theirs – she closed her eyes again.  Comfortable.  Safe.  Protected.  

William closed his eyes too, letting his feelings of serenity overwhelm him.

***

Aberdeen woke up with the sun, which she was mad about because she had the day off and wanted to sleep in until it was an acceptable time to have brunch.  Her body still felt fatigued from yesterday, but her mind – even her mind still felt tired, like she’d barely gotten any sleep.  She saw Minerva curled up at William’s feet and smiled.

William.

William.

William was in bed with her.

The events of the night before came back to her – him showing up at the apartment with takeout Sugo; eating the giant plate of pasta and meatballs all on her own; sitting on her bed and watching the Real Housewives of New York; resting her head on his arm until she fell asleep.  He’d stayed the night.  For the second time in one month, she’d shared a bed with William.  The first time, they’d stayed on their respective sides because the bed was big enough – it was respectful and innocent, but she had still kicked him out in the early morning in complete fear.  But now, there was no respective sides.  She felt his hand underneath her hoodie on her bare skin.  She felt his body pressed up against hers, holding her delicately.  She felt his chest rising and falling softly.  But mostly, she felt the grip of his hand holding hers, cradling it near his chest.

For the first time, she didn’t mind.  And she didn’t pull away.

_______________________

Sexual harassment in the workplace resources:

from the Women’s Legal Education and Action Fund: Sexual Harassment at Work - What Can I Do About It?

from the Ontario Human Rights Commission: Policy on Preventing Sexual and Gender-Based Harassment 

from The Muse: Here’s What You Can Do If You’re Sexually Harassed at Work

from Workplace Fairness: Sexual Harassment Practical Strategies: How Do I Deal with Sexual Harassment?

from Canadian Labour Relations: Sexual Harassment Lawyers and Attorneys: a Legal Solution

from Workplace Fairness: Sexual Harassment - Legal Standards

[kitreadsbirdmen]

Birdmen Finale Thoughts

A Reflection on the End

Birdmen checked a lot of boxes for me. The most superficial being wings and flying, concepts that I would imagine from the window of a speeding car or subway train. I can’t say I was attracted to the freedom of the idea, that frankly scared me silly. But it was fascinating enough, and it preoccupied this small part of my imagination from time to time with the pull of the absolutely inexplicable. What if… What if something happened? What if I were different or strange? How would everyone react? What would I do? How would I change or what would I do to fight that change?

These thought experiments often led me to self-indulgent stories with fantasitcal premises that would only halt the speculation and sweep their characters towards their own plots and narratives. They would only glance over to the vastly more interesting human fallout of the [insert truly miraculous phenomenon] for the sake of episodic drama or a comedic take. These would deep down be very disappointing to me because they failed to give weight to the mind-spinning concept of the supernatural. By brushing past it, the story would dismiss my biggest questions, the ones I felt a morbid curiosity to see explained vicariously. That’s probably why I was so hooked to Birdmen at first. 

Birdmen was and is... rather mundane if you think about it. Grounded, set in a recognizable reality, gave nuance to very human quirks and details of life and society. Kinda dull-ish, slightly charming, and depressing, with all the same desire for something more that we feel when we watch the clock tick away. And even the murmurs of the supernatural had this incredulous air. Something amusing and perhaps hard to dismiss nevertheless. And as our cast is thrust into this new spin on reality, it’s given weight and time. Growing pains full of stumbling youth shenanigans and strife. The Introductory Arc is some masterful execution of humanity as the line of a new species skirts more and more into a diverging reality. It’s here that a very different kind of strength is capitalized on. The limitless potential found within limitation itself.

The core concept and primary conflict of birdmen comes from the subtle utilization of a grounded scientific and philosophical school of thought. This limits the entire narrative to concepts inspired not by the dramatic needs or visual aesthetic, but by the imagination of existing science itself. While a lot of things can boast this particular source, I think Birdmen is very conservative with where it could go. The most outlandish things are noted but not abused. Nothing is absurd no matter the demand. It’s the reason why I found the lore behind the growing science and discovery of the Seraph abilities to be immersive. It’s why I could create a million 1st ability ideas, headcanons, and theories (some of which would actually get confirmed) in one sitting. The source material existed within limits and therefore opened the door to boundless potential. 

To put it in a word, it’s realistic.

Realistic characters, events, ‘villains’, powers, relationships, conflicts… the list goes on. When we pick up a story we suspend our disbelief to welcome the basic empathy and logic to engage us through the world. But I felt a strange relationship with that process on so many levels for Birdmen. It’s why talking about it in-depth is such a hard to explain feeling. When fictional characters have all the nuance and depth as a real person. When wide-scale event scenarios start reflecting the common trends of the current mediascape. When manga-panels start echoing peer-reviewed articles… It becomes hard to see the need to suspend disbelief. At least not in the same way. It makes things seem so much more possible. Everything feels so much more personal.

The current pandemic has helped in this process of course. My life has been turned upside down and I often find myself asking ‘dude is this (still) happening???’. It makes a lot of stories and speculative fiction narratives seem a lot closer. But then the final arc of Birdmen introduces its own pandemic SEVERAL months before covid-19 is first spotted and we see a roll-out of cultural fallout that is eerily familiar. WHO press conferences following the resignation of Eden’s director. Forgetting your mask as you leave to greet your son’s arrival home. Teachers taking a sick day for themselves or perhaps out of caution (if only that worked state side lol). Misinformation and tension across social media. Unrest and riots in the street. (that image of Robin’s flock watching the riot from a distance got me big time. Mostly because I was thinking about the Capitol riots at the time). I think I just needed a chapter devoted to a successful and seamless vaccine distribution to set my resonating heart at ease.

...I’m not kidding there actually. We can’t just assume it went off without a hitch Tanabe. Can I get some wish-fulfillment here??

That actually brings me to a big takeaway as I read the final chapters. In my initial reflection, (and entire year ago) I talk about how I was certain Birdmen was prematurely cut short. And while there is probably a world Takayama could witness in his multiverse seeing eyes, where Birdmen runs for several more volumes and the playout of years of arcs goes much longer, I ultimately want to rescind that thought. 

I don’t think the ending was rushed. I don’t think Tanabe was racing against a clock to wrap things up. I don’t think she was dropping million plot threads into the void out of necessity. It is very clear at every point toward the end that Tanabe knew exactly where she was going and was taking a straight shot to that destination at every point. 

Yes, there are some characters that did not get a long enough time in the spotlight. Yes, there is a boundless potential to explore with many characters and concepts. Yes, there is an element of fallout that was left unaddressed. But this doesn’t make it unfinished or unsatisfying. The mundane, realistic nature of the narrative, allows this lack of tangible book-ends. It has uncertainty. The resolutions are not perfect. Not every person in your life is going to shine in the same way (no matter how much you like them). Their purpose in the narrative may seem small but has ripples of effects on the characters and chemistry of the collective. This is not wasted. I knew this wasn’t rushed because the primary themes of these characters came through and they were given all the space and time and panels they needed to tell that story. I noted this most when Robin was having that discussion with Agent Leo about her address to the media at the White House. The back and forth and revelations of Robin’s entire arc were expressed in this one conversation and it lasted several pages. This is the final volume of the story and this nuance is getting the full dry clean treatment. How can I claim that this was rushed? If I had to claim any ill intent I might say we would have gotten a few more chapters of proper fallout, but that would only be for the sake of neatness. But as I mentioned there is something grounded about taking that away and leaving that to the imagination. 

And thus, I’m left feeling incredibly satisfied. So impossibly satisfied. Birdmen has become something so integral to my life and I feel changed having known and loved it. To see it take a bow as gracefully and profoundly as it did fills me with a personal satisfaction I cannot put into words. This is and will forever be, one of the finest stories I will ever read. 

There is a part of me refreshed. Inspired by the daring embrace of reality. Charmed by the beautiful characters. Intrigued by the possibilities still to be discussed. I am almost left a little overwhelmed with how much I want to do as a response, both for the sake and honor of Birdmen and for my own personal motivations. It’s a kind of weightlessness, burdened by crippling fear. 

It’s a lot like flying really. 

[maxrev]

For the kiss prompts: "in the snow" and "life or death" if I can combine them like that? your call) for an otp of your choice.

IT IS DONE...I had no idea this would explode into such a long prompt lol. I mean, I gave it a title and even added a quote xD. Anyways, here you are :) Thanks SO much for the prompt! A bit angsty but I figured the prompt called for it! 

Under the cut because...wow...

I’d like to thank @spaced0lphin for her wonderful musical work, as it provided inspiration to write this piece and @theoriginalladya for checking it over 

When I Took to the Sky 

Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time… It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other. Leo Buscaglia

Arcing through the debris, the drop shuttle came to rest amidst the debris of a ship, snow puffing up into the air as it landed; flakes sparkling as they danced and whirled in the air before once again coming to rest on the ground. Pulling on his gloves, the pilot reached for his helmet resting on the passenger seat and tugged it on, twisting it snug with a snap. 

He took a deep, steadying breath...and stepped out onto Alchera. 

Ever since Niall had received the message from Admiral Hackett about placing a memorial here, he’d been pushing it aside. A memorial to honor those who’d laid down their lives for the Alliance. Hardly seemed enough, considering how dismissive the findings the crew of the Normandy had presented. But the fact he was employed by Cerberus now was cause for surprise in being contacted. Other questions followed though; why had the Alliance waited so long to decide on a memorial? Had he not rose from the grave like Lazarus, would they even have bothered? 

Once he’d agreed, he continued to push it aside. There were other missions to take precedence, a ragtag bunch of crew members to hunt down and recruit, and the Illusive Man to annoy - his personal favorite agenda. Anything took precedence over coming here. He simply wasn’t ready to face the part of his past which had changed everything.  There was hope coming here would heal old wounds, rather than deepen them.  

His steps were measured, faltering when he came upon a piece of the Normandy, his mind thrown back in time invoking memories he’d suppressed of a life changing event from over two years ago.

Two fecking years! 

It was a constant struggle to process the passage of time; dying and then being resurrected without any knowledge of it.  

Pausing at the mako, he was thrown into the past, scenes flashing behind his eyes…Kaidan's white knuckled grip as Niall slid the tank through snow and ice up the mountain on Noveria; Ashley yelling with uncontained glee as he'd skidded close to the edge of the lava pools on Feros; Garrus' mandibles twitching when he'd observe the mako on return to the Normandy; Kaidan's resignation upon being turned down again upon his request to drive...the near kiss they'd shared inside the cab a few hours before their last drop when their world ended.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the approach of another drop shuttle.

A sound came from behind him, out of place in the absolute stillness around him. Niall whirled, one hand reaching for his maglocked weapon, the other erupting in a blue glow. Setting eyes on the source, both hands dropped to his side in shock. 

Kaidan.

Right away, he noticed he LT had changed. They’d spent so much time together; on the ship, off the ship, on the battlefield, he’d learned the LT’s subtle mannerisms. Gone was the quiet, sensitive marine soldier with stars in his eyes, the romantic he’d claimed to be back on the SR-1. In the eyes staring back at him carefully, in the posture of the man before him, there was a confidence and maturity he’d not had before. There was also doubt. 

It's me, Niall wanted to say, to reassure. It just wasn't so simple.

He watched the play of emotions in the deep brown eyes he'd dreamed about so often. Their eyes locked and he was thrown back in time. Although for him, it was only a few months ago...not two years, when they’d been sitting in the mess on the SR-1, drinking coffee and going over their notes on the Terminus. Niall had been going on about the goose chase they'd been sent on...

“I cannae believe they sent us out to the arse end of space for nothing! Wasted two fucking weeks looking for something which isnae even here.” He slammed his fist on the table, other soldiers in the mess startled at his outburst. Niall ignored them. 

“I’m sure they just wanted us out of the way but we’ll find something, Shepard. We just have to be patient.” 

Niall snorted, “My patience ran dry about an hour inta this mission. I’ll contact those doaty bampots and tell 'em what I really think.” 

Kaidan chuckled, took a sip of his coffee before answering, “Not your best idea by a long shot.” 

Winking at him and enjoying the slight blush across the cheeks, Niall smiled, “Aye but it’ll be fun and blow off some steam.” 

In the end, nothing came of it as the ship rocked hard to port and alarms began to blare around them...

A cough brought him back to the present, watching the brown eyes change in the light, the initial confusion fading to doubt, then replaced with wariness. 

"Who are you?" The first words to be spoken aloud between them, in the same velvety rasp which had haunted Niall’s dreams.

They cut deep, hurt worse than any wound he’d endured. He straightened up, pushing the pain away and answered. 

“Who d'ya think it is? Jolly ol' St. Nick? Tis me, Kaidan. Niall.” He felt like he was stating the obvious, words coming out sharper than intended. 

Silence followed his outburst, the sound of wind wailing in the distance filling the stillness. As the quiet stretched on, Niall reflected on the situation, quickly realizing if roles were reversed, he'd be suspicious as well. Indignation sailed away like a balloon on the wind.

Ready to apologize, Kaidan spoke before Niall could ready his words, “I thought--” voice hoarse with agony, he choked on whatever he’d been about to say, unable to continue. Looking away from Niall, he composed himself, took a deep breath and despite his attempt to remain calm, blurted, “You...you were dead.” 

Biting his tongue against voicing the LT’s mighty powers of observation, Niall fought for something a wee bit more serious and relatable. Now wasnae the time for jokes. 

“Aye," the words ‘but now I’m not’ still echoing in the air between them. How could he begin to explain what he dinnae understand himself? As if he were stuck in quick sand, he felt the more he tried to climb out, the deeper he sank. 

“So, the rumors were true.” 

“Och, aye, guess they were.” 

“When?” 

The wealth of emotion in the single word struck Niall right in the heart, nearly making him stagger from the pain. He fought for an answer, disregarding one after another as they came to him. 

With a heavy sigh, he decided on the truth, “Several months ago.” The dark brows inside the black helmet furrowed downwards into a frown he was all too familiar with. Even to his own ears the response sounded lame. “I dinnae know until then. I was...uh...I doonae even know what to call it...brought back to life?” He threw his hands up in frustration. 

Disbelief followed his statement, turning quickly to suspicion. He could see the change in Kaidan's eyes through the visor. Tone flat, he echoed, “Brought back to life." At Niall’s nod of confirmation, his voice rose, "How is such a thing even possible? Who is...capable of such a thing?” 

Knowing how Kaidan felt about the organization, Niall didn't spare him the facts. He'd find out anyway. “Cerberus.” 

The climate of Alchera was cold and frigid, unfit for flora or fauna to sustain life. Even inside his armor, Naill could feel the chill in the air and had simply wanted to walk through the ruins and leave quickly. He’d never expected to find a dog tag or get lost in memories. 

And now, with his confession, the temperature seemed to drop even further; at least where the two of them stood. Kaidan stared at him for several long, agonizing seconds. He didn’t bother answering, turning around and walking away.

Niall jumped forward, his gloved hands capturing Kaidan’s stopping him, “Wait, please. Don’t go.” 

His gaze dropped down to where their hands were joined; Niall's did as well, heart skipping in his chest. “Please.” He wasn't above begging, not when it came to Kaidan. 

Pulling his hand from Niall’s, Kaidan turned away; yet, he didn’t leave. Several minutes went by; Niall held his breath. “How could you? It’s...they’re Cerberus! You know what they’ve done. The...the things we saw!” 

Fully aware of what his impassioned words implied, Niall felt his anger rise in response, “Did ya think I had a choice in this? As if I could pick and choose who would ha’ the honors of...of fixing...of rebuilding me? Fuck! I wouldnae have chosen this at all...if anyone had ever bothered to ask me first. But here I am and will damn well make the best of it, ya ken?”

Silence stretched on around them. “Are you…you?” Kaidan whispered.

How many times had he looked in the mirror wondering the exact same thing? “I doonae know, Kaidan…" He repeated in a whisper, "I doonae know."

With the admission, he could not look at Kaidan anymore, gazed around them instead. He saw a glint of something shiny; another set of dog tags perhaps. 

To fill the void, he explained, “Saw something sparkle in the sun shortly after I landed. Walked over and found a set of dog tags belonging to Pressly. As I wandered among the wreckage I found more from the crew...the ones who…” he couldn’t say it out loud, felt a hand settle on his shoulder. 

Startled, he turned to stare at it, unable to process the gesture with Kaidan’s protests from a few short minutes ago. Did he believe him now or was it all just for show? Yet, Kaidan had never been superficial. Something Niall admired about him, then and now. 

“We’ll do it together.” The words startled him even more than the touch, but he was grateful. 

“Aye. Tapadh leat.” **

Searching the pieces of the Normandy side by side. As the looked, Niall noticed the sky darkening overhead. Caught up in the past, neither of them had paid any attention. A storm was approaching; a large one. Seeing another glint of metal, Niall brushed off the snow and wrapped the chain around his gloved fingers. 

The storm had intensified and was coming at them fast and furious. There wasn’t time for them to get to their drop shuttles and leave.

He turned and tapped on Kaidan’s helmet. “We need to take cover. Now! Get inside one of the drop shuttles!” Niall took off at a dead run towards the one closest, Kaidan hot on his heels. 

Jumping inside, Niall slammed his fist against the touchpad, shutting the door just as the storm growled over them, ice chips beating a staccato against the steel hull. Wind buffeted the Kodiak, causing it to rock before sliding a few inches along the ground. Unable to radio out and with no one able to contact them, they were sitting ducks at the mercy of the storm.  

Niall reached up and took off his helmet, scrubbing his shorn, itchy scalp with gloved fingertips. 

“You...you’re...the scars?” Kaidan finally managed. 

Niall had forgotten. Not completely healed when the Lazarus project had been sabotaged, he was left with scars where his skin hadn’t had time to knit back together. Chakwas told him by remaining calm they would eventually heal and fade but with stress, they would remain...or get worse. 

Well...

He turned towards Kaidan, their eyes locking. Niall wasn’t the man he’d been the last time they’d seen each other. 

“Aye, scars. I wasnae fully healed when...well, when I was brought out of my coma.” He went to replace his helmet. 

Kaidan stopped him, hand on his arm. “No, don’t. I don’t care what you look like, Niall. I just...I was surprised.” 

He nodded. No moreso than he when he first looked in the mirror. The image staring back at him had been a great shock. That mirror had been replaced. Niall went and sat down on the bench in the back; Kaidan remained standing, neither one speaking as the storm raged on outside. It might last an hour or maybe days. 

“Look, Kaidan--”

“Niall, I--”

Both of them spoke at once. Niall gave a weak grin as Kaidan chuckled and he noticed the pink hue covering the tips of the ears. Some things hadn’t changed. He felt as if a weight had been lifted and he’d been granted a boon. 

Looking at Kaidan straight on, he began again, “I ken how it looks. I do. But, before you draw and quarter me, I dinnae now what to do, where to go. The Alliance won’t ha’ me now and I talked with Anderson and Hackett. They know what’s going on with the human abductions. The Council won’t listen.” He spat the name, no more enamored with them than in the past. “What would ya ha’ me do?” 

“Plead your case, push them. Be relentless like you were before. They have to see reason.” 

Shaking his head at Kaidan’s blind faith, he countered, “Do they? Have they ever? Have ya forgotten Sovereign? The Citadel doesnae even remember, the damage wwept away like so much garbage, forgotten and moved on.” 

The shoulders slumped. Niall studied him, drinking in the sight of a man he hadn’t realized how much he’d begun to care about. Until he was gone. Yet, here he was right in front of him. And they were arguing, Kaidan too blind to see what was so obvious. He stood up, stepping forward until they were nearly nose to nose. Kaidan looked up. 

Niall lost himself in the brown eyes, a golden amber when the light overhead caught them just right. How had he never noticed before? The laugh lines spreading out from the corners of his eyes, the freckles above his right eyebrow. So many details he’s missed. No, he’d never bothered to find. Now, he noticed them all...and more. 

Adrenaline surged in his blood, excitement unfurling within him. He remembered the scars over Kaidan’s lips, wanting to touch them, see how they felt beneath his fingertips...against his tongue. They were right there in front of him now. Overcome with a tidal wave of pent up emotions, he acted on impulse. 

Leaning forward, he captured Kaidan’s mouth with his, losing himself in the scent and taste of him, in the soft lips, his tongue tracing the scars...finally. 

Lost in a longing he had no name for, it took Niall several seconds to register there was no reciprocation. His heart twisted painfully inside his chest. So, this was it, then. He took a deep breath, ready to apologize. But, as he stepped away, he stumbled, Kaidan surging forward to initiate the kiss this time. 

The Kodiak faded away, as did the storm outside. Only the two of them existed in this perfect moment and Niall drank it up like a parched man in the desert until they both broke away, simply in order to breathe. 

** thank you, Scottish Gaelic, informal

[sxveme-2]

strawberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER:  I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Two: The One With The Dinner

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2241

    “Who does that woman think she is?” Lily exclaimed as she burst into the Barnes residence, “Telling me I need to calm down. She called my fiance a terrorist.” The blonde fumed, storming into the kitchen to start making dinner.

“Doll what’re you doing?” Bucky sighed as he set Stella down, following the woman into the kitchen, “We have the conference tonight. Remember?”

Lily dropped her hand from the cupboard, placing her face into her hands. She had forgotten that Bucky and she had an Avengers conference dinner that they had to attend. The dress she wore was sitting in their room, calling for her to go put it on. She could feel the pressure laying on her shoulders from the level above her. The blonde turned her head, meeting Bucky’s eyes. He looked sorrowful and sympathetic, knowing that Lily wanted to stay home more than ever.

“Is that tonight?” Hunter asked as he joined the others in the kitchen, “Did we agree that Stella and I were coming?”

“Yeah, why don’t you start getting ready,” Bucky began, “Take Stella with you to her room. I’m just gonna talk to mom quickly.”

Hunter nodded and took his little sister from Bucky’s arms, glancing back at his mother as he walked up the stairs to the second floor of the house. Lily leaned back against the counters of the kitchen, her face still resting carefully in her hands as she attempted to calm herself down. The entire day had been something out of a nightmare for Lily, especially when she learned about what happened at Hunter’s school. The anxiety in her skyrocketed, and she wondered what everyone around them thought of the two’s relationship. About Bucky raising two children. Marrying an “all-American girl”, or so the tabloids had been saying over the last few years when the public got a hold of their relationship and Lily’s story.

“I know you hate these, baby,” Bucky whispered, walking towards the blonde and placing his hands on her shoulders, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been a very, very long day,” Lily whispered, removing her hands from her face and staring up at the man, “Don’t apologize. Let’s just...let’s just go get ready.”

“Wait wait,” Bucky sighed, taking Lily’s hands and pulling her closer to his chest, hand moving to the side of her face.

“What’re you doing?” She sighed, tilting her head into his hand.

“Jus’ lookin’ at ya,” he purred, Brooklyn accent pushing through, “My beautiful, beautiful, fiance.” The brunette cooed, bending down and pressing a gentle and barely-there kiss to Lily’s lips.

Laughing softly at his words, Lily squirmed from Bucky’s grip, “Sam’s right. You have a staring problem.” She teased, poking her fingers into the brunette’s stomach before turning towards the stairs.

-----

Lily sighed as she readjusted her black peacoat. Her hands dusted off the satin material of her dark green dress that had a black lace pattern along the entirety of it. After readjusting herself, Lily bent down to Stella’s height, smiling softly at her beaming daughter. The four-year-old wore a white dress with a baby blue floral pattern along the entirety of it, white tights on her legs, with bright white ballet flats as well. Her dark brown locks pulled into a bun, a baby blue flower pinned onto it.

“You do love dressing up, don’t you?” Lily cooed, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up, running her hand through her curled blonde hair, “Shall we?”

“That makes one of us,” Hunter muttered as he readjusted the white dress shirt he wore, glaring over at the crowd gathered in front of the building, “I feel like a clown right now.”

Lily chuckled softly at her son and ruffled his tousled blonde hair, before picking up the four-year-old girl. The dinner was being held in Gotham Hall, a beautiful place where the Avengers were gathering to recognize a few that were retiring, and welcoming more who were joining in on the initiative. It was a televised event, and each Avenger was individually introduced to the hall, including the families. Meaning Lily, Hunter, and Stella were being introduced alongside the White Wolf, aka Bucky Barnes.

“Did we remember to tell Tony to have the chef make Stella chicken fingers? She won’t eat what’s on the menu.” Lily sighed, following Bucky as they walked towards the entrance, smiling at a few of the paparazzi and fans.

“I told him, as did Steve. Mostly because we had to ensure that Leo also got chicken fingers.” Bucky chuckled, hand resting on the small of Lily’s back, other arm slung around Hunter’s shoulder.

The family waved and smiled as they walked down the sidewalk, shielding Stella’s eyes from the bright lights. Friday night in New York was already an insane time, and with an Avengers event, it only grew more hectic. Which is not always the best for a four-year-old who was not the biggest fan of large crowds. Hence why she thrived in the countryside in Long Island, enjoying her time alone or with a few of her close friends. It sometimes freaked Lily out just how much the girl was like her father. But warmed her heart at the same time.

“Let’s go find our seats,” Bucky whispered in the blonde’s ear as the four walked into the hall, making their way through the halls towards the dining area, finding their seats with Sam and Steve.

“Well look who decided to show up,” Sam chuckled as he embraced Bucky, kissing Lily on the cheek, “You lot clean up well, hm?”

“Your girlfriend cleans up better than you,” Bucky teased as he embraced Rose, kissing his fiances sister on the cheek as well before taking a seat next to Lily, “Even Leo looks better than you.” He teased, winking at the five-year-old boy across the table.

“He was being nice Buck, c’mon,” Steve chuckled, clapping the man on the shoulder before smiling as Natasha joined the table, “Now the whole families together again.”

“Oh don’t go pestering cyborg, I looked at the playlist Tony made,” Sam chuckled, sitting at his seat, “He’s got Marvin Gaye on there. Might be the thing that sends robocop over the edge.”

Lily chuckled and shook her head, pouring a glass of water for Stella and placing a straw that was on the table in it. She loved hearing the banter between the three and laughing at Rose and Nat’s interjections. Lily herself was not the best at bantering back and forth with them all, but apparently, a few of her quips were some of the funniest things said. Hunter as well. Neither of them were big talkers, which is why the two never really enjoyed the events that they had to attend.

“When are they doing introductions? Just to prepare Stella for the camera that comes zooming around,” Lily hummed, catching Bucky’s attention, “You know she freezes when they come by.”

“We’re up first,” Steve commented, sipping his whiskey, “So it’ll be done and over with quickly.” The blonde chuckled, pinching his goddaughter’s cheeks gently, “But they may be doing interviews. Tony sent an email.”

Lily glanced to her side, watching Bucky turn his head away from her gaze and focus on the whiskey he himself had. The blonde shook her head, focusing her mind on the water in her own glass. Hunter seemed to go a bit pale as well, most likely worrying he’d have to speak. Lily nudged Bucky’s arm, nodding towards Hunter. The brunette nodded, turning to the boy and whispering to him. Lily sighed softly, watching Hunter relax at his words.

Time went on and Lily felt herself relax a bit. But when the camera crew entered, her anxiety skyrocketed once again. Bucky’s hand rested on her thigh, the coolness of the metal seeping through her satin dress, causing goosebumps to pop up along her skin. Stella was busy on Lily’s phone, too distracted to really see the cameras entering and everyone setting themselves up. Lily pursed her lips and turned to Bucky, looking up at him through her lashes. The older man bent down and pressed a kiss to the woman’s forehead, soothing her nerves. Or at least trying to, as the cameras made their way over.

“Welcome everyone to the annual Avengers Dinner!” The announcer chuckled, her voice radiating through the speakers around the room, “Let’s start this legendary night with the star of the show, Captain America!” She grinned, “Or, should I say. Captain Americas.”

Lily sighed softly as she watched Stella lift her head, dropping Lily’s phone into her lap. The blonde rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, squeezing gently as the cameras made their way towards the table. The announcer plastered on an obviously fake smile that made Lily want to leave the room, but she stayed silent as she came closer.

“Look at this lovely group,” she chuckled, “Steve Rogers, always an honour to see you here. Alongside the ever ravishing Black Widow, aka, Natasha Romanoff. And who do we have here? Sam Wilson, aka Captain America, and fashion designer Rose Osborne! With her little one.” The redhead grinned, gesturing to the group before turning her attention to the family of four, “And last, but not least, the Barnes. James Barnes, the now-retired White Wolf, with his stunning fiance, Lily Barnes. Have you two tied the knot officially yet?” She asked, lowering the mic to Lily.

The blonde flushed a deep red, chuckling softly, if not awkwardly, “Not yet.” She stated simply, readjusting in her seat.

“What’s the holdup? We’re all dying to know!”

“Just been busy.” Lily hummed, glancing over at Stella, who was staring down at her lap.

“How could I forget! You two have your own kid,” she hummed, glancing over at Hunter, “Kids, sorry. Stella and Hunter correct? How do you two feel about the announcement tonight?”

Bucky jumped in, taking over as he saw Lily’s confused face, “Walker has had a past. But I’m sure he’ll do great. Especially with some reinforced supervision.”

-----

“Walker!?” Lily whisper yelled, pushing open the front door, “What the hell is Tony thinking?” She muttered, dropping her purse as she cradled Stella’s head on her shoulder.

“We tried to talk him out of it.” Bucky sighed, nodding up the stairs for Hunter to head up to bed.

“It’s ridiculous,” Lily sighed, following her son up the stairs, Bucky following close behind, “Was what happened nothing to him? He decapitated a man in a town square.” The blonde continued, walking into Stella’s room, slowly stirring her, “Darling wake up, gotta get you into PJ’s.”

“He redeemed himself near the end of it all,” Bucky sighed, pulling pyjamas out of his daughter’s dresser, “Maybe that counts for something in Tony’s books.”

Lily had her own personal reasons to resent the man. Whenever there was a function where he attended, he was always a bit friendly with the blonde. Bucky mostly stepped in before it got too far, but still, it made Lily uncomfortable regardless. But above all of that, the events that happened with the Flagsmashers was something that Lily couldn’t get past. Bucky had gone to help with the entirety of the ordeal but ensured to keep in constant contact with Lily, who was sitting at home, pregnant as can be.

She remembered the day he came home like it was yesterday.

-----

Lily watched the TV with relief in her eyes. She watched Sam’s speech with pride, her heart swelling at his words. She had always admired Sam, and watching him officially take up the mantle was something Lily would remember for decades to come. Her hands rested on her swollen stomach, counting down the minutes before she could see her boyfriend walk through the door of the Manhattan home they still lived in.

Lily made her way to bed, laying uncomfortably in it. She didn’t remember how she was able to sleep when pregnant with Hunter, but the baby currently growing inside of her was making her want to turn back the time and keep Bucky at bay that night she was positive was the day the fetus was conceived. Though she knew deep down, she would want to relive that night time and time, and time again. As she tossed and turned, the blonde wondered if Bucky was still directly in the middle of the city.

When the door opened, she felt herself almost float up from the bed. Turning her head, the blonde jumped from the bed and walked towards the man, not hesitating to kiss him deeply as his hands found her cheeks. When they broke apart, he dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to Lily’s seven-month pregnant belly.

“Please tell me the arrested walker,” she whispered, running her hands through Bucky’s brown hair, “Please.”

“They didn’t...I’m sorry my love.” He whispered, standing to his feet, “We don’t know what’s going to happen with him.”

-----

Three years later, they figured out just what would happen to Walker. He’d be given the same privileges as people who had saved the world countless times, including that of Lily’s fiance. It sat heavily on Lily’s shoulders as she undid Stella’s hair, placing the elastic to the side and running her nimble fingers through the dark tresses as Bucky helped the young girl get changed into her pyjamas.

After the two tucked their daughter into bed and undressed into pyjamas themselves, and climbed into bed, Lily let out a heavy sigh. Not only was the Walker situation heavy on Lily’s mind, but the announcer’s comments on the state of their engagement did also as well. She never really thought about it. The two had been busy, there was no time for them to really sit down and properly plan a wedding. But then again...Steve and Nat had been able to. Their own rehearsal dinner was in a week. They had gotten engaged about six months ago. Lily and Bucky...they had been engaged for two years.

Yet legally, they weren’t married. And it worried her.

“Why haven’t we gotten married yet?”

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Four (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, murder plot, and gallows suggests hanging herself 2 separate times

wc; 10k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“My skin is sore.” you complain, watching as Leo scowls a bit, clearly not liking how much you’ve suddenly begun to complain. Not a single word came from you during the waxing and scrubbing process at all.

“It’s not that bad.” Cleo tries to reason, and she’s clearly a mind reader too, “The wax earlier was the worst thing you’ll ever have to go through.”

“I think my skin is sensitive, that’s why.”

They seem to consider this for a moment. And without a single word from Beth, she rises from her chair and leaves the first room to go to the bathroom that’s attached. She’s gone for a couple of minutes, and you spend the time gently peeling off dried glue from your body. Wincing when it catches a couple of stray hairs that the team managed to miss somehow.

By the time she comes back, she’s got a yellow bottle in her hands, that you immediately recognize as the lotion that was used on your body earlier. At first, it had stung but the cooling sensation afterwards was worth it. Beth is a quick thinker, you like her.

When you’re sure that there’s no more glue, Leo sits you down in the chair and wipes your face completely free of makeup. When he moves out of the way so you can see yourself in the mirror again, your eyelids are clearly stained a light shade of green. And instead of complaining, you shrug.

Next is pulling off your clothes to trade them out for something more comfortable. And as you’re slipping off the tube top and later the skirt, the exhaustion seems to kick in. Your limbs feel heavy, and every time you lean or bend over, you’re sure you won’t be able to pick yourself back up.

With eyelids half-open, you apply a healthy lather of the lotion before pulling on a pair of knee-length grey sweatpants and tank top. Cleo slides a pair of slippers your way that is so clearly made out of real animal fur, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad at the fact they killed an innocent animal just to use their fur as a pair of shoes.

You wave your prep team goodbye, and don’t wait up on Laurel at all. Dragging your feet through the hallway, Finnick comes out of nowhere, joining your side. He seems to be in the same state as you are. The difference between you and him, is that you got a few hours of sleep in, and he got absolutely none. 

A rough night of basically no sleep, and then an emotionally and physically draining day only hours later had taken its toll on you. On your way to the elevator with Finnick, you find yourself dreaming of flopping onto the Capitol bed, wrapping yourself in the warm comforter and laying your head on that soft pillow. And hopefully falling asleep before your mind can wander.

“I’m going to sleep so good tonight.” Finnick yawns, which triggers you to yawn next. And as he goes to open his mouth a second time, you elbow him to keep a cycle going. He lets out a gentle laugh.

At the elevators stands Elysia, one hand holding them open. You and Finnick don’t bother to pick up the pace, she’s going to stay there whether she likes it or not. She has to take you back to the floor. Almost like an escort.

Finnick sighs, closing his eyes and leaning up against the glass wall of the elevator. He’s got on a white shirt and a pair of deep blue shorts, sandals on his feet. And even with a layer of clothing on, it’s obvious that he’s sweating, and it almost seems to be seeping through his shirt and onto the glass behind him.

Elysia purses her lips, and you can tell that she wants to tell him to stop leaning on it, because it’s ruining the presentation of the small room. But then her face smooths over, and she offers a small smile instead, turning back towards the doors. 

You spare one last look at Finnick, but find the glance lasting longer than you expected it to. It’s clear he’s on the brink of falling asleep upright, lips parted, wet hair sticking to his forehead. Maybe it’s not sweat that's coming from his body, maybe he took a shower instead. It would make more sense as to why his hair is like that. Before you two split to your prep teams, he was as dry as you were.

The elevator makes a noise, and his eyes open again, spinning a little as he tries to get a hold of reality again. He stumbles, trying to catch his footing, and then motions for you to go first. When you go to offer for him to lean up against you, he’s shaking his head and telling you it’s fine.

“You two don’t have to come to dinner.” Elysia tells the two of you, on the couch sits Anchor and Mags, watching a recap of the tribute parade. At your initial entrance, neither of them had paid attention or even bothered to look your way. But now at Elysia’s dismissal, they’re staring, “If you wake up hungry, the room has food service. All you have to do is order anything you want and it’ll appear. But I expect you two will be at the table bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll wake us if we aren’t?” you ask, not really caring about the food thing. You can go to bed hungry, it won’t be the first time. You’re just worried about sleeping in. Tomorrow is the first day of training, and the second time you get to see your opponents up close.

“Yes.” she says.

“Goodnight.” Finnick says, heading towards the hallway, you wave at Mags and Anchor. Anchor is the only one that raises their hand in return, saying his subtle goodnight.

You follow Finnick up the steps and into the hallway. When you go to bid him goodbye, heading towards your room, his hand catches your elbow.

“Can I stay with you?” he asks before you can say anything.

You stare for a moment, the words not processing slightly. Stay with you? Like in your room? He wants to sleep in your room?

“Like a sleepover?” you ask, watching a smile creep up and onto his face.

“I guess.” he shrugs, “It’s fine if not, I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

That’s not the reason, and you know it. It’s probably the same reason why he didn’t want to fall asleep last night; he’s afraid of being alone with his thoughts. In a whole room by yourself, on the brink of sleep fearing the worst in a couple of days, that’s going to bring on an onslaught of nightmares. 

You’ve had that happen to you a couple of times. Not with the Hunger Games just yet, but you’re sure that it’ll come one of these days. The longer you stay here, the more reality begins to set and seep into your head. Before you know it, you’re going to wake up in the middle of the night, alarmed, alert, and afraid.

And right now, Finnick is trying to prevent that from happening to him.

“Yeah, you can stay with me.” you tell him.

He gives a loopy smile, “I’ll meet you a minute, then.”

You split from Finnick now, watching as he goes into his room. You go into yours, making sure that the doors don’t lock behind you. You pull off the ring, gentle setting it into the bowl on the nightstand. Then, you sit on the edge of the bed, every fiber of you greedily begging for you to just flop over and fall asleep now without the blankets and pillows. Without waiting for Finnick to come in.

He doesn’t leave you waiting for long. He comes in with his comforter around his shoulders, and training behind him on the carpeted ground. A singular white pillow is beneath his arm as he stands in the doorway, unsure of where to go. You motion towards where the window is, since it’s not a bad place to sleep if you don’t mind the city lights at night.

“You can sleep in front of the window, if you want. It’s a good view.” you sigh, throwing the blankets open. Any moment now you’ll be able to sleep, and tomorrow morning you’ll hopefully be refreshed.

Finnick heads over, making a makeshift bed with the blanket and pillow already. He collapses into a sitting position, and stares out the window for a moment. Then, he yawns again and speaks, ���You’ve got a better view than I do. You’ve got the lights, and might even be able to see the festival in a couple of days from here.”

“Festival?” you ask.

“Yeah, it happens after the interviews, since it’s the night before the actual games themselves.” he slips beneath his blanket after that, “It’s disgusting really, but what can we do?”

The answer is nothing. So, you say nothing and watch as his breathing automatically slows into even intervals, a clear giveaway that he’s fallen asleep. You stare for a couple of minutes longer, until he eventually turns over and his back is to you. Only then do you slip yourself beneath your blankets and do the same, facing away from him too.

The sleep that you were on the brink of only moments ago, seems to be fading. The late afternoon sunlight freely coming into your room is throwing you off. You’d never be going to sleep at this time. In fact, back home you’d probably still be in school going over math problems or the latest english assignment.

Or you might be heading to Naida’s house after school, fully prepared to get your homework done and thank her for her time. Then, you’d scoop up Alyssum and head home and wait until your brothers would get home. They’d have already spent hours on the water fishing, and they’d come back not even half as exhausted as you are.

You don’t think Reed and Mox missed the tribute parade at all. In fact, they might have skipped the afternoon work entirely because they wanted to see you and how the Capitol citizens would react to you. You wonder if they were disgusted by how much you’d changed. From a feeble little girl to a young woman in just a few hours.

They’d risk getting in trouble just for a glance of you, a quick check up. The next time that they’ll see you is when your score is announced by Caesar Flickerman. You hope you score fairly high on it, because it would be such a relief to Reed knowing that you should have no problem when it comes to getting sponsors.

Mags had briefly explained how training would work this morning. She said that the next three days is training with the other tributes, where the gamemakers would be supervising and taking notes. Everything that you show off or don’t inside of the Training Center will contribute to your score. 

The private training session is really so you can show off anything you didn’t want to show the other tributes. It’s a secret skill, something that you’d want to be a surprise when you go into the arena. Only they are allowed to know what it is, and what happens in that room will stay there forever.

Thinking about it now, you don’t think you’re going to have a skill for that. Everything you know is pretty generic. You suppose that you’ll be learning more things tomorrow, but it won’t be the same. Showing off a skill you've known for years versus something you learned two days ago makes a difference.

You have days to worry about that, maybe you’ll remember something along the way. Tying knots and throwing spears aren’t that impressive. Maybe if you tie a noose and hang yourself from the ceiling, it’ll catch their eye, make a statement. 

Although it’s already no secret that the tributes would rather die on their own terms, rather to the hands of another teenager. There’s been countless attempts in the past, both successful and unsuccessful. It’s the reason why there’s so many safety precautions now. To keep the tribute from dying early on and sending twenty-three in, rather than twenty-four.

To do that would mean to give up your chance to win. It would mean you’re accepting defeat without even seeing the circumstances first. Who knows? You might just end up on an island in the middle of the sea, favoring District Four. Giving your district another head start, on top of all the ones you’ve gathered already.

You’re going to win. You can feel it.

—

In the morning, Elysia kept her promise. You and Finnick hadn’t gotten up on your own, so she came in to do the job for you. It wasn’t all that bad, last night you had expected her to throw water or something onto you this morning. Really, she just knocked on the wall until one of you awoke.

It was you first. And it wasn’t even to her knocking, it was because the whoosh of the doors opening automatically. Once she made sure that you wouldn’t be going back to bed, she left.

And you still haven’t moved from the bed, even minutes later. Finnick is still asleep next to the window, blanket tucked beneath his chin. You’re going to feel awful here in a second when you have to get him up. But it’s not like you have much of a choice.

You’re sure that he’d rather you wake him up, than Elysia. So, you run a hand through your hair in a feeble attempt to tame it, and then you wander your way over to him. Standing over him is definitely creepy.

You nudge Finnick with your foot, hoping that’ll be enough. But he doesn’t even stir, so you go ahead and do it again. This time, his hand flies out from beneath the blanket and he wraps his fingers around your ankle. For a second, you think that’s it, and then he yanks and pulls you down.

He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. The floor disappears from beneath your feet, and you have no chance of catching yourself on the way down. Your hands smear down the window, leaving nice hand marks in your wake.

You land right on top of Finnick, who’s now giddily laughing at his joke. You roll your eyes, getting off of him and sitting back. He sits up, face red and tears gathering in his eyes. You try not to laugh, but the longer he continues, you let out a small chuckle and shove his shoulder with your foot. 

“Very funny. How long have you been awake?” 

He smiles, wiping beneath his eyes, “Since Elysia came in. I was just waiting for you to come over.”

“I was trying to be nice. I should’ve just hit you with the pillow.” You get up, stretching and heading over to the walk-in closet.

Before Elysia left, she told you that the training uniforms should already be in here. You have different options, all different variations of yellow and black. Looks like they’ve got a theme going on at the moment.

The first top is like a regular shirt, just a little modified. The collar is black and comes up to the base of your neck. The rest of the shirt is mustard yellow, and there’s a zipper on the front that leads from the bottom all the way up to the top, exactly like a jacket. It’s a cute top, you pick that one over the long-sleeved and tank top.

And the bottoms aren’t that exciting, plain black shorts or leggings that end at your calves. You pick the latter, and then scoop up the tennis shoes and the underwear too. When you come out, Finnick’s got his things gathered in his arms.

“Thanks for letting me stay in here.” He smiles.

“How was your first ever sleepover?”

“Pretty boring.” He laughs, heading out, “Hopefully the next one will be better?” He proposes, and then doesn’t wait for an answer.

If there is a next one. You go ahead and take a shower after that, paying careful attention to your eyelids to make sure that they aren’t green when you step out. After you get dressed, you pull your hair out of your face, letting a few strands stay if they don’t irritate you too much.

You debate on the ring. It would be nice to wear to make sure that it doesn’t leave your sight, ever. But on the other hand, it’s going to get in the way of learning. Maybe it’ll get caught on something, or it’ll make a lot of noise, or your finger will swell and you’ll have a hard time pulling it off later.

Then again, you don’t want it to get swiped and for someone to think that it belonged to yesterday’s costume. You were wearing a lot of water-wave related things yesterday. It wouldn’t be that far off to think it came from there.

You could very well trust it with Mags. She’ll understand. 

Once your shoes are on, you slide the ring on and decide that it won’t hurt to wear during breakfast. When you step out and into the dining room, you’re not that surprised to see that you’re the last person to come out. You utter an apology to Elysia, and take the only available seat next to Finnick.

Almost immediately, food is served to you. It’s almost the same as yesterday, nothing new. You eat it all measuredly, making sure that the rich taste won’t make you feel sick. That’s really the last thing you’d want in the Training Center, to throw up in the middle of doing something.

And as always, it looks like Finnick has got the same worries. This time, he’s not inhaling the food like it’s the last meal he’ll ever eat. You know he must be hungry, especially since the two of you skipped dinner yesterday. You know you are.

Mags doesn’t eat very much, so she’s done long before you and Finnick are. She carefully slips the napkin off of her lap and sets it into the nearest bowl, waving off the avox when they come around to give her more. Then, she turns to you and Finnick.

“Do either of you have tokens?” she asks, Anchor pauses for a moment, and then his head bobbles in approval. 

“Yes.” you say, placing the spoon back into your bowl before pulling off the ring and holding it out for her to see. She takes it from you, turning it over in her hand. 

She doesn’t give it back, and then turns to Finnick, “And you?”

His fingers dance along his arm until they land on his wrist. The same braided, brown rope is there. You vaguely remember seeing it yesterday and being surprised that they’d let him keep it. Up close, you realize that it’s not really a choice. The ends are tied together, and his hand is too big to just slip it off.

It reminds you of those bracelets that are supposed to ward off evil. Caspian’s sister owns one, and he constantly calls her superstitious because of it. He doesn’t think that it works, and every time she reaches over to it when bad things happen, he rolls his eyes. Always telling her to grow up, when she’s already out of high school.

You think it works. She graduated at the top of her class and instead of being stuck with the same old government-provided fishing job, she got hired at the sweet shop. Which of course, is placed next to the bakery, the butchers, the fabric store and finally, the ice cream parlor. All lined up and expensive.

Even though you don’t like Caspian--or maybe you do now, you don’t know--you like his sister. There had been a few times where she had caught sight of you through the window, and rushed out to give you a treat to share with your brothers and sister. You tried for a while to turn it down, but she always insisted and so you stopped struggling and instead thanked her greatly.

She, Calandra, has had good fortune ever since she started to wear the bracelet. Whether or not Caspian has realized that, you have no clue. But you have, and you think that’s why Finnick wears the bracelet. However, his luck hasn’t really been up, as of late.

“It’s just rope.” Finnick says, “I can’t take it off.”

Mags and Anchor share a look. Anchor makes a face, “All they have to do is look at it, and they’ll see that it’s not really an advantage. I’m pretty sure they can see it during the tribute parade, so we don’t have to bring him along.”

Mags nods, and then turns back to you, “Would you mind if I gave this to the gamemakers to look at for a couple of days?”

You shake your head, “I’ll get it back?”

“If it’s not dangerous.” Anchor says, “Or poses any sort of advantage.”

It’s just a silver ring. You’ll get it back.

“Yeah, you can have it.” you lean back in your seat, resuming your bowl of soup.

Mags pockets the ring, and then doesn’t waste time, going on, “Don’t show off any serious skills, save it for the private training session. You don’t want everyone to know what you’re actually good at.”

“What if the careers ask?” you lean in, “Am I just supposed to leave them hanging?”

“No.” Anchor says, and you and Finnick look over to him now, “Save at least something for the gamemakers. Don’t even share it with each other.”

You hope that won’t create issues between you and Finnick. You know Anchor is right, and he knows better than you do. But the thought of holding back even one skill to keep Finnick on edge the entire time is dangerous. You don’t want him to be anticipating something that might not even happen.

“Right.” Finnick says. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not, and you think you like it that way. You don’t need to know.

Mags excuses herself from the table, saying that she’s going to go hand off the ring, and do other things as well. It leaves just you, Elysia and Anchor at the table. Until Elysia says that you guys should meet her at the elevator no later than ten, and leaves the apartment too.

“Districts One and Two are automatically going to head towards the weapons section.” Anchor says, picking at a bagel, “And you’re going to be expected to follow.”

“Should we?” you ask.

“You already talked to them yesterday and proposed the idea of an alliance, right?”

Finnick shakes his head, “Not exactly. She said we’d see them tomorrow and that was it.”

“Did they seem interested?” Anchor asks.

You press your lips together, staring down into the empty bowl. You don’t know at all. They were definitely friendly after the tribute parade. You got Trink and Lennox to loosen up easily, and Eytelle and Allio followed stiffly. To you, it looked like they were uncomfortable with the thought of working with people younger than them.

It’s very well possible that they think you two are still naive and will find a way to fuck up tremendously, costing their lives or something. They’re worried about the wrong thing, though. You and Finnick have already proved that you’re smarter than that. You’ve analyzed them, their body types, their personalities, and you know what kind of people they are.

Maybe Allio and Eytelle didn’t seem enthusiastic, but Trink and Lennox did.

“Two of them.” you answer first, Finnick looks like he’s about to object, “District Two is still iffy. I think if we hang around them today, we’ll find a way to sell it.”

“That leaves two days to work on skills.” Finnick says.

You look at him, and then Anchor, “How does the center work? Is there a schedule?”

“You’ll go in at ten, and a few hours later will have lunch. You’ll have it all together in a room with tables, then you go back to training.”

“How about this,” you look at Finnick, “First half we spend on skills, and then at lunch we’ll sit with One and Two, and after lunch we hang out with them for the rest of the time?”

Anchor is impressed, and Finnick seems to like this idea a lot better, because he agrees to it. First half of the day will be spent learning and remembering skills, and after lunch will be getting to know the other careers better. A good bargain, you feel proud of yourself for that. 

There’s not much to talk about anymore. Both you and Finnick end up dismissing yourselves from the table about thirty minutes before ten. In your room, you fix unapproved stray hairs and brush your teeth. For the last remaining time, you sit on the bed and try not to think of home.

The time comes around where you have to leave the room. Finnick is already waiting out by the door, having a conversation with Anchor. He’s in a new change of clothes, and it looks like his hair is wet again. Before he wasn’t wearing his training outfit, now he is. While you wear yellow, he wears blue. 

When Anchor notices you, he subtly motions, letting Finnick know. With squinted eyes, you watch as they wrap up the conversation, Anchor pats Finnick on the shoulder, and then they split.

Anchor wishes you good luck. On the way out of the apartment to the elevator, you try to ask Finnick what they were talking about, but he attempts to slyly redirect you to talk about the training that’ll be happening in just a few minutes. It’s a red flag immediately, and you find yourself making note of it. 

Some part of your mind tries to cooly remind you that he doesn’t have to tell you anything, but the thought slowly fades. This is the Hunger Games, every person you befriend, every alliance you make will eventually end in distrust and murder. This is no time to be holding secrets.

You don’t push him.

Elysia is at the elevators, holding the door open. Inside, she lets you know that it’ll be a moment before you actually reach the training rooms because it’s underground. You and Finnick share a little eyebrow raise--even though you’re still pretty irritated--and wait in silence. She tells you she won’t be going inside with you and that you’ll officially be on your own, away from her, Mags, Anchor, the stylists and prep teams.

It comes as a relief. Now you won’t have so many people hovering over your shoulder while you try to figure things out.

The walk to the Training Center is short and quiet. This gives you a feeling that Finnick must know that you know something is up. Good, you hope he comes to realize you’re not stupid.

The doors to the room open automatically, revealing a gymnasium three times the size of the Four floor. And the Four floor is already bigger than your house back home. Just with the first look, you’re able to see all the stations and their accompanying trainer. There’s weapons lined up against the walls, obstacle courses in the middle. 

This is a dangerous playground.

A lot of the tributes seem to be here already, all gathered up together. On the way down with Elysia, she let you and Finnick know that the stylists are the ones picking out the outfits for everything. So, Laurel picked a muted mustard yellow color for you, Pleurisy picked a pretty baby blue for Finnick. And as for everyone else, it varies.

Before you two can join the others, you’re stopped at the doors. Just to keep a track of white tributes are from which districts, you’re required to wear a number on your back. You have a feeling that it’s for the gamemakers, who all sit up in a box on the top right. If they know who you are, they can keep track of you and why you deserve the score you’re going to get.

After you two have got District Four pinned to your back, you head on over. Instead of actually standing inside of the circle with everyone else, you stand back. Letting yourself get a good look at everyone, now. This is vital.

Trink and Lennox lean into each other, Lennox slouching to reach her height. When Trink moves away, he cracks a smile. Her eyes go over the almost-complete circle, eyes landing on you and Finnick. She smiles too, waving slightly as a greeting. Because of this, both tributes from District Three look over their shoulders.

The boy is tall, dark haired and pale. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, but the second he realizes you’re looking right back at him, they loosen into a gentle smile. He’s friendly, and the girl next to him looks like she is too. Light brown hair that’s down but out of her face. The smile reaches her eyes, and you remember how she cried on stage. She might be emotional.

You give a smile back, the girl turns back away towards the head trainer, who’s still waiting on the final tributes. However, the boy still stares, and the longer his eyes linger, the more you feel your face becoming hot. He’s older, and he’s definitely cute. When he turns away, you can feel your heart begin to beat loudly in your chest. How embarrassing.

Allio and Eytelle are standing side by side, stiff looking. Maybe that’s just how they are normally, and it was nothing against you. They do look like they take things a little more seriously than Lennox and Trink. The more you stare, the more the word ‘wary’ seems to fit their description.

There’s Finnick and you, of course. District Five seems to be missing completely, Six isn’t talking to each other at all. Seven seems to be friendly with each other, the boy has a bright smile that never seems to go away. Even when he tries, the girl will say something and he’s back to massaging his cheeks.

The girl from Eight nibbles on her nails, the boy is on the other side of the circle, away from her. The girl from Nine, and both Ten tributes are all huddled together. The boy from Nine, you have no clue. It looks like he’s missing too. Both from Eleven look nervous and Twelve is… just a pair of children. Twelve and thirteen, it looks like. They have absolutely no chance here, and they’re by far the youngest.

The doors open, making everyone look over again. In comes Six, you think, as well as the boy from Nine that you vaguely recognize. They get their numbers on the back of their shirts, and stop around the circle just like you two had.

The head trainer introduces herself now, her name is Pasithea and she’ll be overseeing everything formally. She explains the schedule in detail. At every station is an expert, trained in that skill. The experts are not allowed to move from place to place, but you are free to. You can get up and leave at any time to move on to go somewhere else.

Some of the stations focus on survival skills, like identifying berries, starting fires, and knowing which leaves are poisonous and which are safe. Others are combat, with swords, hand-to-hand, and so on. Because tributes can’t fight with each other, if you want to test your combat skills, all you have to do is ask and they’ll send someone to you that’s qualified.

And even though Pasithea already gave examples of the survival stations, she goes down a list, anyway. Good versus bad berries, leaves, and hiding places. How to start fires, snares and knots. You’re welcome to play memory games, and show off whatever you like. As for combat, the list of weapons is long, and you tune out towards the middle.

You don’t know what half the weapons look like, and you’ve never heard the names before. So, what’s the point in trying until you’re free? Finnick looks like he’s bored of it too, and he shares a look with you, eyes going off to the side as he jerks his head in a direction. You look around him, and your eyes land on the fire starting station.

Might as well. You nod, he looks happy that you’ve agreed. When Pasithea releases you all, allowing you to finally get your hands on things, everyone seems to split off somewhere. Your career friends head right towards the nearest combat and weapon stations, already showing off.

District Seven seems to do the same, they both look as old, or even older than the careers. The girl swings a top-heavy axe like it’s nothing, the boy stands back and watches. If you were to make an alliance with them, it would probably be a package deal. Just like you and Finnick.

At the fire starting station, you and Finnick take a seat around a ring of rocks with wood in the middle. The expert kindly asks if you have any clue on where to get started, and Finnick shakes his head. You offer some half-assed answer of flint and stone and sparking a flame. This seems good enough for her, and she starts by showing you that technique.

Back and forth, you and Finnick try various ways to get it done. You’re able to get the fire started way before him, but once he realizes what he was doing wrong, he outshines you. After flint and stone comes the actual devices that might be included in some backpacks in the arena if you run towards the cornucopia.

For years, you’ve watched people run to the middle, and every time you call them stupid. Who is dumb enough to run to the one place where all the careers will be waiting? All those tributes that have died in the bloodbath--which is what the massacre is called--have to have known that their chances of getting anything out of the cornucopia itself is slim to none.

If you pick off the things that are scattered outside of it, you have a lesser chance of dying. But running inside, where the careers will be protecting their precious goods is just like accepting the fact that you’re going to die. And most of the time, it’s going to be gory and nowhere near quick. They like to make a show out of it.

After you and Finnick seem to have got it down, you and him bid the expert goodbye and move on. Deciding that you’d like to work on something you two actually know a lot about and is fairly useless, you settle on the knot tying station, which is also where the snares are taught.

The expert seems thrilled at your knowledge, watching you list off which types of ropes are used for what. And then you settle down on the floor, tying and retying all the knots you can remember that Reed taught you. You know the names to most still, but there’s some that slip your mind. Despite the name being gone, you still know how to move your hands.

Finnick leans over your shoulder, watching you tie a knot that’ll be nearly impossible to escape once tightened, “Who taught you all of these?”

“My oldest brother, Reed.” you hold it up for the expert to see. She’s got a smile on her face, nodding, “I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve sat on a boat while he and Mox fished, watching me do these.”

He asks you to teach him a few that you feel are important, and you almost feel bad for the expert. They’re no longer the teacher, because you lean over and have Finnick do a series of them until he’s sure that he’s got it down. 

You want to try your hand with the weapons, but Finnick is still pulling you along to the survival places. You follow anyway, thinking to yourself that you’ll be able to try them after lunch. You and him made a deal, and so when it’s your turn, you’ll be able to do what you want. 

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re starving and dehydrated. Inside of the lunch area, they have a buffet-style meal. All the tributes are welcome to help themselves and go back for more whenever they please. You and Finnick help yourselves to foods that you know will be filling but not too rich. After that, plenty of water bottles.

Before you and Finnick can even get the chance to start a career table, you’re being waved down by the boy from Three. The girl has got her head raised, eyes on the two of you. She says something to him, and once he scowls, she looks down and away.

“Where do you want to sit?” you ask Finnick.

“I thought we were going for Districts One and Two?”

“I’ll let you have today if you let me have tomorrow.” you say, “Anywhere you want.”

Unsurprisingly, Finnick heads right towards the table with District Three. It’s a sacrifice, and you’re hoping that it’s not a bad one. You ignore the stares you get from the alliance you’re really after, and settle down at the table.

“Hi.” you greet, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Blaire.” the boy says, sitting up taller, “This is Verda.”

“Finnick.”

The conversation starts off slow, until Verda eventually enters and carries most of it by herself. She asks questions, expands on anything that you and Finnick ask. You were right about them being friendly. Not once is there a tense moment between any of you, and at the end of lunch, you four decide to stick together.

Blaire mainly sticks by your side. He’s funny, and his laugh is a little loud but you’re not embarrassed by it. In fact, the more he laughs, the more you find yourself reconsidering the alliance with the other careers. 

You and Finnick are only fourteen and fifteen. The others are between sixteen and eighteen, they could easily overpower you with all those years of training. One bad move with them, and there’s a chance they’ll kill you on the spot. There’s safety in numbers, of course. But why bother to keep around a couple of teens that are dragging them down?

With Blaire and Verda, they’re older, but you don’t find them that threatening. If they came up to you back home, you’d make friends out of the both of them, no questions ask. Which might be a downfall, and could really get you killed. You can’t be friendly with everyone in here, but Blaire and Verda seem to be different.

Soon, you’re all moving onto weapons--finally!--per Blaire’s request. While learning how to handle a knife properly, Finnick sits on the only open spot next to you, and leans over.

“Still want to be allies with the careers?” 

You wonder if he’s noticed how close you’ve grown to Blaire in the last couple of hours, or how you refuse to even look at the careers. However, he should know that you gave him today. Just because you act one way today, doesn’t mean you won’t act a different way tomorrow.

You’ll change with the seasons if you have to. If it means that you’ll stay alive longer, you’ll play games with people. Keep Finnick close, let him think that you’ll agree with him, and then you’ll play with the careers. Slowly but surely dragging him back to the idea. Because now, he’s made it no secret that he doesn’t want to be allies with them.

You look at Finnick, and he’s got the same face he had on when you asked him what he was talking about with Anchor. It clicks now. He doesn’t want to be friends or allies with the careers, and he was expressing that to Anchor. And now he’s trying to nudge you in the right direction without giving anything away.

It’s too late. You force a smile, looking back down to the blade. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re using a similar weapon against someone. You wonder who will be first, your traitorous friend Finnick on the request of the careers, or the careers on the request of Finnick.

You will go back home. And you’ll do whatever it takes.

So, for now you let out a laugh, nose crinkling and catching the eyes of Blaire, not so much Verda. Finnick’s looking over your face, a smile slowly creeping on. That’s right, “A little.”

If you do switch sides, you wonder if it’ll be for Finnick, someone who you’ve known for years but won’t open up to you. Or the boy across from you, with sea blue eyes that make tears well in your own, because they remind you of home. Or maybe the girl that seems to have a heart of gold, and a smile that can lighten the mood.

You all move together one last time before the day is over, to the berry station where the girl from Eleven is hunched over, easily identifying the edible ones. She passes with a perfect score, and flashes the expert a smile. When she realizes that you guys have joined her, the smile fades and she’s quiet as she moves onto identifying leaves and bark.

And Finnick being Finnick, manages to get her to open up. Her name is Thyme, her district mate’s name is Horace--and he’s halfway across the room--and she’s got no one at the moment. It isn’t until they’re all deep into a conversation about their lives when you realize what’s going on. What Finnick’s doing.

The more you seem to learn about these people, the less you picture yourself killing them. You know you wouldn’t be able to kill Finnick even on a good day, not with how his mom knows you and so does the rest of his family. Blaire’s got a brother, Verda has two sisters and Thyme is an only child with no one but her old parents.

All of this settles uneasily in you. There’s always an ulterior motive with people.

Before you can change your mind, you abruptly push yourself up from where you sit, causing Finnick to falter on a few words, slowly dragging them out. He must think you’re stretching or something, because he goes back to what he was saying. But you turn away from all of them, smoothly escaping the rocky station and crossing the gymnasium.

Being friends with everyone is going to get you killed. He’s still young, he doesn’t understand that. He hasn’t had these thoughts drilled into his head since he turned twelve, there’s no way for him to know that. Even after you tried to push him in the right direction, he went right back to what he was thinking before.

But it’s weird, because he agreed to being allies with the careers on the train, so what changed? Was it that conversation with them after the parade yesterday? Because they didn’t even say anything that sent a red flag off in your mind. You would have noted it like you always do, how vicious they are.

They haven’t even shown that side of them yet. Them going to the weapons could be an intimidation factor, but they haven’t shown viciousness just yet.

Trink looks around Lennox at your approach, and even goes as far as to move him out of the way, clearing a space right between him and Eytelle. In front of them is Allio, who’s making the best out of fighting an assistant. He’s incredibly good, and there’s only one time that the assistant touches him.

“Where’s Finnick?” Lennox asks.

“Making his friends.” you offer a smile, “You guys want to show me how it’s done?”

Eytelle lets out a laugh, “Show us what you can do first.”

Your eyes go over the different stations and how they’re organized. Swords are placed with knives. Spears are placed with tridents. Maces are placed with other top-heavy items like axes. You move straight over to the spears, and listen as they loosely follow.

The second that your fingers wrap around the expensive metal of a spear, you remember Anchor telling you not to show off any important skills. Save it for the private session in two days. You look over your shoulder, straight to the gamemakers to see that a couple have got their eyes on you.

You’ve spent the entire day going around and honing skills, and spent lunch with people you didn’t think you’d find yourself next to. Now, you’ve abandoned them and your district mate, heading straight to the careers. There’s a split second where you think that they shouldn’t be surprised, because you were around these guys yesterday, and then you remember that they hadn’t seen that.

The gamemakers are surprised because they thought this year would be an anomaly. The last third of the careers would be off and away, playing with districts they’ve never really dared to go before. Not with the comfort of knowing that the careers will take them in no matter what. Districts One, Two and Four tend to be the powerhouses, why bother to break a streak?

Looking a little further, it seems Finnick and the rest of them are watching you too. 

You grip the metal tighter, turning back to the target circle right in front of you. It would be easy to do this. District Four is almost expected to know how to do this already. You just need to find a second skill, a much more special one that will wow the gamemakers. For now, you can throw this one away.

You draw your arm back, eyes on the one farest from you. Your face twists when you tense, throwing it with all the right power, and watching as the tip of the spear guides it nicely through the air, and straight to the red dot in the middle of the target. 

“It’s a little off center.” you laugh, because it is. It’s too far to the right, but it’s on the red nonetheless. You turn towards the others, they’ve got smiles on their faces, sharing looks that let you know you did good. Still not vicious, they’re planning something, “Think you can do better?”

“You win on this one.” Trink says, “As for everything else…”

The rest of the training day is spent next to the weapons. You don’t see Finnick again until you’re leaving, and even then neither of you talk. It’s obvious to Mags, Anchor and Elysia that something has happened because the happy air between the two of you is gone. You’re not asked why, but Finnick is when you leave the table to call it a night.

The second day isn’t anywhere near a rinse and repeat of yesterday. At the beginning, Blaire decides that he wants to stay next to you, and it’s kinda hard to shake him when you want to go to the careers. However, going around the gym is a lot less painful with him, because there isn’t a history. After lunch, you’re right back to the careers.

Instead of making fun of you, they teach you the same dangerous skills that they know. You breathe in all in, taking in as much information as you can. You only have tomorrow morning left, after that is the session, the interview, and then the games. Just the thought of them alone gets your heart beating in your chest.

A little bit into the knife-throwing lesson that the expert is giving to you, you learn that it’s easy. When you finally get a shot to throw, just to test the waters, you throw the best you can at the nearest target. When it lands in the middle, you claim beginners luck but know that will be your skill for the gamemakers. After that, you repeatedly fail with throwing and tell the others that you’ll stick to throwing spears.

Just like that, you’ve got what you need to know. 

You all mess around on the obstacle course for a while. Climbing ropes and rock walls. You find yourself scaling the rock wall easily. The expert suggests using just the cracks, which are there to provide an extra challenge to those who are good regularly. You slip a few times at the beginning, not knowing how heavy or slippery your fingers are.

But soon, you’re grasping it, and you reach the top of the wall three times in the time it takes Allio to scale the wall once just using the rocks. Impressed, he gives you a high-five and you get praise from the others as well. You’re a lot more prepared than you gave yourself credit for.

Finnick comes over to the station next to yours with Thyme only once. The two of them take a lesson on sword fighting, which Thyme is pretty bad at, but Finnick isn’t too shabby. You take note of this, and pretend like you never watched them in the first place.

Your friends leave early, claiming to be sore from all the climbing. They want to be in their best shape when it comes to tomorrow. You bid them goodbye, and even consider going back early too. You decide against it last minute, thinking that it’ll be a perfect time to work on hand to hand. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

Blaire comes up to you, leaning against the pillar as he watches you flip the assistant over your head and onto their back. You struggled with their weight for a moment, rusty on doing it. But you managed to get it over with.

“Where’d you learn that one?” he asks.

“My brothers.” you help the assistant up, “Back before my parents died, we wrestled all the time.” it’s right back to fighting. When you’re pouring sweat and feel the tiredness growing behind your eyes, you stop and get water, still talking to Blaire, “They’re like four and five years older than me, too.”

Blaire laughs, “I did the same with my brother all the time. Until the day I accidentally broke his wrist.”

“Older or younger?”

“He’s older.” Blaire’s got a proud smile on his face, “He couldn’t even be mad at me.”

When you get back to the apartment, you see that Laurel is standing around with Pleurisy and Mags. Finnick had left long before you did, and with the looks that everyone gives you, you can see that they’re upset. Not asking any questions, you tell them you’re skipping dinner and don’t leave your room for the rest of the night.

In the middle of the night, you wake from a nightmare in sweat-soaked bed sheets, clutching your throat as you struggle to breathe. There’s tears gathering in your eyes, and you force yourself to get up from bed and take the hottest shower you’ve ever taken. When you leave the shower, your skin is painfully hot and sensitive to the touch.

You curl up in front of the window, knees pulled to your chest as you try not to cry too loudly. It’s late, and the last thing you’d want is to wake someone up and have to explain why you’re so upset. And despite your best attempts, the door opens anyway, and Finnick comes in without a word. He sits next to you on the floor until sunrise, by then you’ve calmed down and your cheeks feel dry. 

When the streets come back alive, he leaves again. You don’t thank him at the breakfast table, you don’t even look at him.

Back at the Training Center, you spend the last couple of hours going around to all the survival stations that you hadn’t bothered to consider beforehand. The careers follow you and even learn a few things too. Once out of the couple of hours of walking around, you find ‘your’ group and ‘Finnick’s’ group at the same station at the same time.

During lunch you hardly eat anything, the nerves sprouting in your stomach and blossoming in your throat. Trink reassures you that you’ll do great, and you spend the rest of the time gently sipping on your water. Then, the private training starts. Lennox is pulled out first, and you all wish him good luck.

After Lennox is Trink, and neither of them return after they’re gone. You watch Allio and then Eytelle go. You’re sitting alone at the table for a while, watching the avoxes clean the table, but leave your water. You think you’re going to spend the time alone, wallowing in nerves when the others come around, Thyme following too.

“I’m going to get a perfect twelve.” Blaire says, Verda lets out a laugh.

“Right.”

“You’d have to do something amazing for that. What have you got under your sleeve?” Finnick asks.

Blaire looks to you, eyebrows raised and motions to the others, “They didn’t see my wicked hand-to-hand skills.”

“Neither did I.” you say, which gets the whole table laughing and a lot of stares because of it.

Soon, Blaire is being called. You all wish him good luck, and you find that it’s the same process as before, watching the people around you get picked off. Verda leaves the table graciously, winking at the three of you before she leaves into the next room. And then Finnick is getting called.

For the first time in a day and a half, you look at him, grabbing his arm before he goes. Finnick turns, green eyes on yours, face set serious. It’s like your own little personal bubble, filled with so much tension that it’s almost funny.

“Score high, for everyone back home.”

Finnick nods, “You too.”

You let him go, and watch as he leaves the room. Thyme doesn’t say anything to you, and you’re glad for it. She’s their friend, not yours. And you don’t even want to bother trying at this point. You’re tired, you have today and then tomorrow, and then you’re going to be fighting everyday to stay alive.

“Boy trouble?” you hear a voice call from across the room. When you look over, the District Seven girl is sitting on top of the table, feet on the chair. It’s so incredibly rude to do that, but you’ve only got so much time left to be kids.

You think her name is Cass, you’ve heard the boy say it a few times in passing. Cass and Mac, tributes of District Seven.

“Not really.” you lean your head up and against your hand, “It looks like that, doesn’t it?”

“Kinda.” A boy says, he’s from Six. He’s stuck next to Mac since the beginning, and you think you saw them having a few private moments. Amos, you think. You can never be sure at this point.

“I wish I had boy troubles.” Elodia, Five, says, she smiles at the ceiling, “All the boys at home used to drool over me.”

“Right.” the boy from her district says, “You were a loser.”

She shoots him a glare, “Watch it.”

“Watch it.” he mocks, and she pushes herself up from where she sits. He’s pretty far away, a whole two tables away. They’ve been apart for the most part since the first day. 

Pasithea doesn’t want a fight, so she advises you all to keep quiet for the rest of the time. It’s not really bothersome to you. You finish your water, use the bathroom and still have a minute or two to spare before you’re called into your session. You pop every possible bone in your body so you aren’t stiff, and head right into it.

With shoulders squared, you walk into the room. You’re informed that you have fifteen minutes to show any skill of your choosing, and then you’re allowed to start. Without a moment of hesitation, you wander your way over to the throwing knives. And as you start, you can hear a few laughs. 

You hope they underestimate you. It’ll just make this so much better.

Looking over the knives they have laid out, you take your time balancing them between your fingers and feeling the engraved handles. You try to find one that’s not so distracting, that’ll fit just right into your palm when you throw it. Again and again, you pick them up and narrow them down.

When you finally find the set you’re looking for, you turn towards the dummy that’s hanging from the ceiling. A morbid sight, really. And you repress laughter, because that was your original thought on a special skill. It’s almost a sign.

You take a deep breath, stretch your shoulder. You know that no matter what, they have to watch you. Knowing that they’re staring at you isn’t going to mess up, it’s the fact that you know you have to perform well. It’s exactly what Finnick said a few days ago.

Finally, you draw your arm back without notice and throw the knife as hard as you can, exactly what you had done with the spear yesterday. It flips once, and then twice. You’re sure that’s going to fuck it up, until they seem to slow down, bigger intervals before it flips again.

The knife hits the heart of the dummy with a dull thud. You throw a second knife, watching as that one lands in the stomach, and then another in the knee. You use up all but one knife, saving the last one for the spear throw target. The dummy is incredibly impressive, since you had only missed twice out of the nine that you threw. One was too far above the shoulder, and one was right between the legs.

The spear is going to be much farther, a larger distance to cover. If you thought throwing before was hard, this one nearly looks impossible. You stretch your shoulder again, take a deep breath, and then throw. It crosses the distance easily in an arc, landing right on the red middle.

Once the gamemakers are sure you’re done, they dismiss you. And you think you saw a few impressed expressions, which eases your anxious thoughts, and allows you to move onto the next worry.

Tomorrow, the interview.

[writerman]

Prompt, if you wish?: Bard finding out about Thranduil’s scar.

I was going to do this yesterday but I fell asleep at 1pm and woke up at midnight last night so... this is a breakfast time reply.

Thank you for your prompt! 

Note to self: try and make these things shorter so you don’t get invested in the story Leo and end up wanting to make it a multichapter fic!!

-------

"My lord, a-are you sure you wish to do this? The mortal king may not react well."

Bard had only caught part of the conversation as he was led into Thranduil's study but did not hear the king's response.

When Thranduil and his advisor entered the room Bard turned to greet them with a smile but only Thranduil returned it.

The advisor did not so much as look at Bard, his attention fixed on his king as he trailed behind him trying to keep his expression neutral.

"And in any case, Galion, the thoughts of mortal men have not concerned you before why would it do so now?" A silky tone was a dangerous one and Bard had heard such being used before.

Thankfully he had never been on the receiving end of such refined ire but he'd seen how well that had ended for the recipient when he had witnessed it for himself as an innocent bystander.

“Be that as it may, my lord, I do not worry for myself but rather,” Galion paused, his hazel eyes slid to where Bard stood but his words were directed to Thranduil, “You.” It seemed the wrong thing to say as Thranduil’s eye twitched ever so slightly as tried to restrain any sort of negative facial expression.

There was a tense moment wherein silence ruled the room and Bard had to admit to himself the whole exchange was very uncomfortable and overall rude. The elves spoke about him as though he was not present and had Bard been anyone else that slight would have cost them dearly.

Thankfully, Bard had endured worse and he was sure Thranduil would explain himself once Galion was safely dismissed to run errands at the other side of the palace.

It was better for him that way.

“That will be all, Galion.” The dismissal was firm but still, the butler had to bite back his response lest it is seen as arguing with the king. Bard knew they argued often, they were close, closer than most royals would be with their staff and they often butt heads over small things that would be forgotten the next day.

This was nothing new but Thranduil had to keep up appearances regardless of who the visitor was, and so, Galion merely nodded and turned on his heel to leave.

Another moment of silence before Thranduil let out a sigh as he watched Galion’s retreating back right up until the door shut behind him. When he did look to his visitor, Bard was gifted with a rather wicked smile.

“I do so enjoy the moments wherein he truly believes he is in trouble.” Wicked words to match that grin and Bard breaks out into peals of laughter, he was soon joined by Thranduil laughing along also. “He will likely try to apologise this evening and all will be well.”

“It does seem like he was trying to ensure your wellbeing more than anything, is there a reason that made you so angry?” It was better to be bold than to meander around a question with Thranduil, he was as fast as a viper and did not suffer those that tarried in their words.

His question sobered Thranduil to a degree and the smile was lost to a stormy demeanour as he is reminded of just what it had been they were arguing about.

Another heaving sigh from the king and Bard moved around to Thranduil’s side. Pulling the elf into an embrace was all he could offer at the moment and thankfully Thranduil was easily drawn in and offered up no resistance.

“Something you want to tell me?” When they parted from the embrace Thranduil looked no less angry but it was clear he was inside his own head and the emotions displayed were not for Bard.

“Hmm, it is not like Galion to have me second guess myself, but in this case perhaps his words were wiser than I initially gave credit for.” It didn’t answer Bard’s question at all but it was a start.

When it was clear Thranduil would offer little else in the way of information Bard moved back around the desk that had originally separated them and took his seat. Upon seeing this Thranduil did the same all the while his eyes were focussed on Bard quite clearly trying to gauge a reaction to something he was still unaware of.

To fill the time Bard reached out to the pitcher set upon a tray with two chalices and poured them both a drink. It had been there when he entered the room so he was surprised that, when he took a sip of the wine, it was still cool.

Thranduil was still as a statue when Bard sat back in his seat, the piercing blue of his eyes still on him to the point that it became quite unnerving. A shiver was subdued as Bard busied himself with his drink again.

In a bid to urge the elf to move or speak, Bard set his own drink down, leaned over the table and with his fingertips slid the other chalice across the table toward Thranduil.

This movement finally prompted Thranduil to relax and he reached out for the drinking vessel bringing it to his lips quickly to drink long and deep.

When he set the chalice down he seemed to have regained something of himself and had the decency to look almost apologetic.

“Bard, my love…” Impossibly soft and yet filled with pain Thranduil addressed him, and before Bard could respond he spoke again, “You know I am an ancient thing compared to you, and this is not a slight against you but I feel you need to be reminded of who and what I am.”

It did not sound good, whatever Thranduil felt he had to reveal, for who the pain was for did not matter as it would likely affect them both. Bard squirmed in his seat and passed it off as getting comfortable, as though he was not terrified that there was a possibility that what would come next had the potential to break his heart.

That was always the fear in the back of his mind.

“We elves, as you know, live impossibly long lives. Our stories span the pages of books so old that they were written years before even your great-great-grandfather was born. We have seen great pain and loss in wars that you believed to be only myth and we bear the scars of those battles also.” As he said this the air around him seemed to ripple and to Bard’s horror, the skin on the left side of Thranduil’s face faded away revealing a scar they seemed new and unhealed raw and red.

The angry wound and the white eye that moved uselessly in the socket was nothing Bard had ever seen before. He stared in silence as fresh blood welled up before spilling down his jaw to his neck and staining the pale blue fabric of the tunic the elf wore.

A hiss of pain brought Bard back and he swallowed the horror as he leapt from his seat.

The sudden movement from Bard, utterly misconstrued as fear, hurt Thranduil down to his very soul, more so than any ancient and magical wound could, the onset of betrayal winding its way around his heart and lungs before he could rationalise Bard’s movements.

But when a cool hand was pressed to the right side of his face the feelings all but vanished, and when Bard came into view looking scared he knew he could not regret his decision to show this part of him.

“Do you need me to call Galion?” Bard’s words were thick in his mouth, his tongue dry as anxiety rose in his chest at the sight of Thranduil in pain. “What is this, what happened?” No reply came as Thranduil replaced the glamour and dabbed at the blood on his neck in a bid to clean himself up.

Seeing the elf struggle, Bard plucked the handkerchief Thranduil had pulled from his pocket and wiped away the blood, all the while his clicked his tongue at the stain left behind on Thranduil’s tunic knowing full well he would never see the elf wear it again.

“Old wounds from old magic, Bard. It is something I will always live with but tell me, does this change how you feel for me?” Thranduil croaked, his eyes on Bard, all the while still reeling from the pain that the glamour slowly numbed from the outside in.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t love you because you have a face men and women would die fighting for. I love you because you are honest and continue to prove that almost daily, not only that but you’re caring and protective… I mean I do also love you because you’re handsome too but that is just a small part of it.” Bard finished with a smile and he laughed when Thranduil only ‘hmm’d’ at his words before pulling him down into a kiss.

“I suppose I can believe you,” Thranduil began once they had parted from their kiss, “But you understand why Galion was so concerned earlier now?”

He did understand, completely and utterly but it did sting that the elf had thought there was a possibility that Bard would reject Thranduil upon seeing the wound on his face. Then again, he had every right to worry for his king so all in all Bard wouldn’t hold it against him.

“I understand, so don’t be too hard on him when you see him next, all right?”

“Let me have my fun, Bard. He already believes he is in trouble with his king, I might see how deep he digs himself into a hole before I reveal he has nothing to fear from me or yourself.”

Thranduil was terrible, but he was Bard’s favourite kind of terrible.

 “For an ancient being, you can be childish when you want to be.”

“Oh, I know.”

[tfw-needs-baby]

midam | mated

read on ao3? -- mated

‘Castiel, I thought Michael and I were already mated!’ Adam huffs, sitting across the table from him.  

‘Well, no. You aren’t mated. Both of you are simply dating, he just calls it mating.’ Castiel replied, showing Jack how to solve a chemistry question. ‘He wants to spend the rest of eternity by your side, joining his grace and your soul together.’

‘But isn’t that more of a friendship thing? Like you, Sam and Dean?’ He replies, and the angel shakes his head in disagreement. 

‘What the three of us have, it’s powerful. I bonded with two soulmates, which technically makes me their third soulmate. My grace is interwoven with the souls, making us sense each other’s emotions and telepathically talk to one another. I’m able to enter their heaven.’ Castiel smiles. ‘We also have marks, to show that we are fully and truly mated.’ 

‘Really? Do you get to choose?’ Adam’s curious now. 

‘Yes. You will have the option to choose your own, and fate herself will have one to place.’ Castiel spreads his wings wide, and Jack jumps at the sight of them. 

‘Awesome! Can I show uncle Adam my wings too?’ Jack jumps out of his seat before Castiel can give a reply, and light, golden wings, similar to Lucifier’s appear on his back. He gives it a tentative flap or two, smiling at the sight and stretching them out. A couple of feathers fell to the floor. 

‘Kid, they look beautiful.’

‘Thanks! I make sure to clean them almost everyday, sometimes me and dad take our other two dads out flying.’ Jack flushes with pride, and Castiel smiles at the two of them bonding, flapping his wings to grab Adam’s attention.

Castiel’s wings are a midnight color, more raven than black. They look like they hide the stars. He takes off his trenchcoat and regular suit coat, losing the tie and unbuttoning the shirt, and Adam puts his hands up. 

‘Woah, okay, I’m currently in a relationship --’

‘I know, Adam. I’m simply trying to show you my bond marks.’ Castiel takes off the white shirt, turning around and closing his wings together, then arching it above his head, revealing two marks. 

S.W. D.W. 

It looked familiar, and he realised he saw those same engravings on the table that Michael has shamelessly fucked him on. Castiel looks at Adam’s flushed face with a curious tilt and a small smirk, like he knows what his big brother has been doing to Adam. 

‘The two of them wanted their initials.’ 

‘Possessive much?’ 

‘Possibly.’

Jack looks at the marks, grinning. ‘You have to show him the stars!’

‘Oh, right. I forgot about those.’ Castiel spreads his wings out, making sure they face Adam and then, dots. Small, glowing white dot spreading everywhere, lines fading in and out to show constellations. Huh. Guess they really do hide the stars. ‘These are the ones fate gave to me. She was very considerate, for Dean has his constellations hidden in his freckles and Sam has it all over his back, upper shoulders and thighs. A speck or few on stomach and chest.’

‘Oh my -- I can’t even say God, because he’s an asshole. Okay, can I touch it?’ Adam jumps across the table and Jack is already touching his wings. 

The angel nodded in agreement, more focused on Jack touching his wings and reading the constellations aloud. ‘This one forms a pentagram, which is the same thing as my anti-possession symbol! And this one is Leo!’

‘Awesome!’ Adam says eagerily, pointing to one forming right in front of Jack. ‘What’s this one then!’ 

‘Oh! That’s Aquarius, well, now it Aries!’ The nephilim replies happily, and Castiel turns around, beaming. 

‘I don’t remember teaching you about the zodiac constellations.’ Castiels says, and Jack thrusts his right arm backward, book flying right into his hand to show his dad, catching it with ease. It’s a leather notebook, decorated with band stickers and says <A Guide To The Stars Above, by Jack Kline - Winchester.> It’s even got the cute <keep out!> sticker posted at the bottom in bright red letters. 

‘I’ve been teaching myself, when I’m at home with Raphael and you and dads are on a case.’ Castiel reaches over his shoulder to grab the book, skimming through the pages and notes and doodles. 

‘I’m impressed.’ 

Jack beams with pride again, and that's the same moment the Winchester duo runs through the library door, worried and glowing dots showing through their clothing and Deans face. 

‘Castiel? What wrong?’ Sam says, scanning the area and relaxing a bit when he sees no threat of immediate danger. 

‘Ah -- I forgot to tell you, Adam.’ Castiel lowers his wings, stars disappearing and the Winchester’s spots stop glowing. ‘They can signal your mate, telling them that you are in danger and a small line will appear in front of them, leading to you.’

‘You want to be Michael’s mate?’ Dean asks, and Adam nods his head. 

‘Oh.’ The older Winchester doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that, he has to keep reminding himself that this isn’t the Michael that took over his body. He sighed, giving a thumbs up as a sign of approval. 

‘Wait, does that mean -- are you and Uncle Mickey getting married?’ Jack jumps excitedly, and the Milligan blushes. 

‘No, I’m just -- well, maybe? Does this count as marriage?’ Adam asks, and Sam shrugs. 

‘If you want to, then go right ahead. Except you have to be naked for this.’  

‘What?’ 

‘And it hurts alot. Make sure you don’t die of blood loss.’ Dean adds on, just to scare him. 

‘Not helping!’ 

‘Michael, can we be mated?’ Adam asks a few hours later, and Michael looks up from the book he’s reading. He’s in a human body, chocolate skin and blue eyes, black hair slicked back. And annoyingly tall for a vessel that size. 

He blinks twice. ‘Adam, did I not ask you to be my boyfriend?’

‘What! No, you did, it’s just…’ Adam scrubs a hand over his face, spinning on his heel to leave. ‘Nevermind. It’s stupid.’ 

Michael appears in front of him then, book making a loud thud as it falls to the floor. He holds Adam’s hands into his, not gently, but possessive, making him smile. ‘What is it? Please, I don’t want you to worry, it causes wrinkles on your human form.’ 

‘I wanted to be mated to you, for all of eternity. Like Castiel, Sam and Dean.’ Adam tries to say it firmly, but his voice keeps cracking and and Michael’s breath hitches. 

‘All of eternity? I do not even know if we have that, with the threat of fath-God keeping everyone awake at night.’ Michael replies, and Adam kisses him. Softly, gently, pouring in nothing but love. It’s only a few seconds, and minor kisses like those somehow manage to make butterflies in his stomach.

‘Then why not now? Even if we don’t have that much time left, I still want to be by your side.I’m sorry, that probably sounds desperate --’

Michael kisses him quickly and hard, and passes a soft smile. ‘That was both meant to shut you up and tell you that I love you. Castiel told me about it.’ 

‘Can we not talk about Castiel in the middle of heartfelt moment?’ Adam says, but still ends up giggling like a kid. 

‘But, I want to be mated to you too. But, you will not die. I’m an archangel, so if you do die, you will end up in the empty. Castiel bonded with two humans, so if he dies in his angel form, he will become a human soul and live in the Winchesters heaven.’ Michael was nervous. ‘Are you sure you want to spend the rest of eternity with me? I’m know to be… commanding.’ 

‘Oh, I love it when you command me.’

‘Adam! I’m serious!’ 

‘Alright, alright. I really do love you and want to spend eternity with you. Besides, I spent ten-thousand years with you in the cage after all.’ 

Adam is sitting naked in a circle made out of white blood. 

‘It’s pure blood. From a couple of demons that became angels.’ Michael says. Adam didn’t ask. The eldest archangel lays a knife with a grass handle right in front of him, covered in Enochian. There are 7 bottles, each the color of a rainbow. 

Uncapping the red one, he spills it onto Adam, chanting some Endochian prayer, and it feels like a large amount of anger and shame spilled into him. For crying out loud, he’s in their bedroom naked, sitting on the cold floor and being poured with -- what was this? Oil? 

Michael places a hand of pure grace onto his shoulder, and there’s a balance of euphoria and anger inside of him, making Adam glance at his mate curiously. 

‘Adam, these will make you feel an onslaught of powerful emotions, but do not act on them, or it will be a while before I am able to perform this ritual again.’ Michael says, and Adam can only nod in agreement, not trusting his voice. 

He closes his eyes, and lets the emotions run through him. Passion, envy, grief, shock. He can envision the colors being spread on his body too. Focuses on Michael’s voice. And then Michael makes him stand, and he feels a prick in his shoulder. The archangel is writing Endochian all over his body, and the Milligan can feel the blood sliding down his skin. It’s not deep, just enough to open up his skin. 

Michael moves Adam’s hand to cover his eyes. ‘I need them closed shut, because my trueform will hurt for you to look at.’

He leaves his hand over Adam’s eyes, just in case. And he kisses him. 

Everything is white. 

Adam screams. 

Nothing. 

🌻

‘Adam? Adam, you can open your eyes now.’ Michael says, smiling. Adam is still standing up naked, nothing has changed, the room is still in the same state as before and yet he feels lighter. The enochian on his body and the colorful oils are gone too. Like a heavy weight has disappeared. He moves his wings to rub at his eyes. 

🌻

Wings. 

Things that birds have.

Those, feathery, flappy, large expandable things that angels have.

Well, yes. Wings. Have you never seen wings before?

Adam jumps at the voice, looking at Michael, whose wearing a smug smile. He’s clearly entertained by his boyfriends disbelief. 

Aren’t you going to say anything?

‘I’M AN ANGEL?’ Adam’s scream tears through the bunker, and Michael winces at the sound. Adam clears his throat, using his human voice this time. ‘I’m an angel?’

‘Yes. I forgot to mention, when you are mated to an archangel, if the mate is human, then they can become an angel.’ 

‘So why aren’t my other two brother’s angels?’

‘Castiel would need permission and grace from an archangel to do so. However, he’s planning on surprising them for their friendship anniversary.’ Michael grins, touching Adam’s wings, and he flinched violently. They’re sensitive.

Michael lets his wings show behind him, pure white with blue streaked at the top. It reminds him of the clouds, forever changing. His hands trace Adam’s back, which is a mess of all sorts of flowers. He couldn’t choose just one, so he went with a flowerbed, hiding a shield underneath. Michael’s mark is two swords starting at his shoulders and crossing each other, flowers intertwined. A blue flame has both the swords on fire. 

‘Where is the mark fate gave us?’ Adam looked at himself, and feels a small burning sensation on his shoulder. Michael shrugs of the white collared shirt he’s wearing, and looks at the mark. It’s a cage, but the door is open with a color changing heart, glowing. The same thing is on Michael’s arm too, and he focuses on it. It stops glowing, and it’s just a rainbow striped heart. 

‘Awesome.’ Michael states, and Adam kisses him eagerly. 

‘MICHAEL!’ Catiel barges into the room, Sam and Dean right behind him. ‘A new angel has been born -- oh.’

Sam and Dean both groan, covering their eyes. 

‘Adam! Put on some clothes, man!’ Dean says, wondering what he did to deserve this. Well, he’s committed a list of sins. ‘I can’t bleach my eyes out.’

‘Wait,’ Sam peeks through his fingers. ‘Are you an angel?’

‘I guess? When Michael and I mated, he turned me into an angel.’ Adam replies, waving his hand at them. ‘Can I get privacy now? I’m still naked.’

‘Yes, you may.’ Castiel replies, as Dean starts whining about him not turning into an angel when he mated.

Michael turns to his angel, rubbing his neck nervously. ‘So, all of eternity, huh?’

‘Doesn’t sound that bad.’ Adam kisses him. 

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 17

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~5100

Rating: R (language, implied inability to consent)

Summary: Drake goes to Ramsford while he figures out his next steps, Leo has something to ask Liam, and Hana is at her wit’s end

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna throw a trigger warning here that there is an interaction in this chapter where a man is clearly looking to engage in sexual activity with a woman who is not able to consent at that time. There is no actual sexual assault or violence, but it’s the type of thing that may hit close to home, so I thought I’d give some warning. It’s in the third and final “section” of this chapter if you wish to avoid it.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

“Hello?” Drake called out, glancing around as he stepped into the foyer of the Ramsford estate. He wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t any staff to greet him, given the Beaumont’s current financial situation, but he figured he should announce his presence somehow. Not just lurk around until someone found him. He was pretty sure he was the only person invited for dinner tonight, after all.

He hadn’t really wanted to come for this dinner, but when Savannah had called him, excited that he was still around and inviting him over now that she was settled at Ramsford, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no. He’d seen so little of his sister over the past couple of years, and even before then, he’d always found it hard to tell her “no.” So here he was, hoping that Maxwell and Bertrand had enough whiskey to get him through the evening.

“Drake, is that you?” Maxwell’s voice called out, echoing through the halls as he rounded the corner, “Hey, glad you could make it!”

“Yeah…” Drake trailed off as Maxwell came over. Maxwell was clearly going in for the hug, but thought better of it when he saw the look on Drake’s face. 

“So, yeah. Dinner might be a bit yet. Savannah is cooking but Bertrand has decided to ‘supervise’ as this is ‘their first dinner party’ as a couple or whatever. I wandered through the kitchen about 20 minutes ago, and it was not exactly going great.”

Drake just shook his head, “I hardly qualify as a dinner party.”

“Yeah, well… try telling Bertrand that. Do you want a drink while we wait for whatever the hell we’re gonna get for dinner at some point?”

“What do you think?”

“Right, stupid question. Come on, I’ll get you some whiskey.”

Drake followed Maxwell through the halls to the private lounge and took a seat on one of the couches as Maxwell wandered over to the bar cart and preparing a whiskey on the rocks and a glass of white wine before he joined Drake on the opposite sofa.

“So, has Riley been having a good time with Hana?”

“What?”

“Hana told me they were going to check out Riley’s favorite place for Chinese take out today and that she was going to see how it stacked up to authentic Cantonese cuisine. I was wondering if you’d heard the final verdict.”

“Maxwell, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Hana’s in New York,” said Maxwell, squinting slightly as he took a sip of his wine. “Drake, did you not know that?”

“No, she uhh… didn’t tell me that.” Drake downed his whiskey in one, pushing himself up off the couch and stalking over the liquor. That information warranted another drink.

Hana was in New York with Riley. Riley couldn’t be bothered to text him, but she was taking Hana out and keeping Maxwell posted about everything they were up to, apparently. It just was him she wanted nothing to do with. 

It was like every other time, and this time, he knew it was his own damn fault that she left him. He’d fucked everything up. He drank his second glass in one swig. He just wanted to go back to his quarters and be alone with his pain, but he could hardly duck out of a family dinner where he was the only guest. Pouring himself one more whiskey, he took a deep breath and rejoined Maxwell. He was gonna have to get through this night somehow.

Maxwell glanced up, tapping his finger on the side of his wine glass as Drake sat down. The silence was tense for a few moments before Maxwell broke it. 

“Drake, I wasn’t trying to pry, I swear. I’m just worried about Riley and I thought maybe-”

Drake jerked his head up and stared at Maxwell, “Why are you worried about Liu?”

Maxwell tensed for a second, “Look, I’m not trying to butt in where it’s not my business or anything-”

“Really? Since when have you had any sense of boundaries?” Drake snapped

“Hey! I’ve given you plenty of space! I get that you and Liam had to work through your… issues, or whatever. But she’s like my sister, and I have a right to be worried about her, too!”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s all my fucking fault. I already feel like shit about it so-”

“Oh come on, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“Then what’s your fucking point?”

Maxwell let out a sigh, “I’m just trying to make sure that both of my friends are doing okay and not isolating themselves and being all lonely and mopey and deciding that it’s better if no one knows that they are actually hurting.”

Drake took a deep breath, “Since when did you get so fucking insightful?”

“My greatest strength is that everyone underestimates me. It let’s me see things,” he said with a shrug.

“Huh,” was all Drake could muster, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“So, if you can promise not to jump down my throat, I’d like to ask how you are.”

Drake grimaced, “I’ll be fine. It just sucks right now because all I can do is wait for the other shoe to drop.”

Maxwell frowned at that. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you could probably guess from my reaction, Riley’s basically ghosting me. I’m just waiting for the inevitable breakup text.”

“Or, she’s mopey and isolating herself, you know, like I said,” countered Maxwell.

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

“So go back and talk to her. The people behind the attacks are behind bars and you, Liam, and Olivia all said that things are looking good from that standpoint. You took care of what you needed to here, time to go take care of things with one Riley Liu.”

Drake shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Maxwell. I don’t even know if she wants me there.”

“I never said it would be simple. But you don’t know what’s going through her mind right now, right? So maybe she wants you there with her or maybe she doesn’t. There’s really only one way to find out.”

Drake bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to keep calm. He couldn’t let Maxwell know that he didn’t know if he could deal with the possibility of face to face rejection from Riley. Not now, after he’d come to think that she might be the one woman who would stay. When Savannah left, it had nearly broken him completely. If he had to watch Riley leave him, too… well, he didn’t know if he could handle it.

“Hey,” called out Maxwell, forcing Drake to divert his attention away from his spiraling thoughts, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think she wants to leave you. But even if she does, wouldn’t it be easier to move forward knowing you did everything you could to try and make things right?”

After a few seconds, after processing the fact that Maxwell could apparently read him like a book, all Drake could say in response was, “Damn, you’re right.”

Maxwell smiled, “I’m fucking insightful, remember?”

Drake laughed at that, raising his glass to clink against Maxwell’s.

After taking a sip of his wine, Maxwell pulled out his phone, “Speaking of being insightful, what do you think the odds are that dinner preparations have completely fallen off the rails?”

“I’m going with about an 80% chance.”

“My thoughts exactly. So shall we preemptively order some pizza?”

Drake smiled and nodded as Maxwell called the restaurant he always used for late night sustenance at Beaumont Bashes. It was strange to think that Maxwell was now a close enough friend that he felt okay about talking with him about anything he was feeling. More than that, he realized that he had misjudged Maxwell a lot over the years. But if the past year had taught him anything, it was that Maxwell had pretty decent awareness when it came to a lot of things. He’d seen the value in Riley before any of them, after all. 

Drake knew he probably should apologize for some things he’d said in the past, both to and about Maxwell, but maybe bringing up his past intolerance of the man was not the best way to go. So instead, he waited until Maxwell finished placing the order and hung up the phone before he got up and walked over to the liquor once again.

“You need a refill, best friend roomie?”

The subsequent shriek of joy was loud enough to bring Savannah and Bertrand running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liam sighed, rubbing his eyes as he scanned through the final reports on all the interrogations. Starting tomorrow, some the initial hearings were happening in public court. Liam had pushed for expedited trials, knowing that the people had been through enough with these attacks and didn’t need the court proceedings to drag at a glacial pace. Of course, this meant he was giving himself less time to develop a firm grasp on the details of the three men whose trials were starting this week for when the press inevitably asked for comments. Still, he knew the prosecutors had it worse, and he was grateful the team of attorneys had agreed with his plan yesterday, even agreeing to meet with Bastien’s agents on a weekend.

He’d slept in his office last night, reviewing the files well past midnight. When he woke up with his head hanging over the arm of his sofa, he’d scurried off to the Monarch’s Quarters, quickly getting freshened up before heading back to his office. He chose his desk this time, hardly able to risk drifting off to sleep again, but it was still hard to stay focused. The reports were full of so many conflicting details, it was hard to keep who said what straight, and he’d been at if for hours at this point. He was about to get up and stretch his legs for a few minutes, but heard a couple of knocks on the door. Before he could call out a greeting, the door swung open, Leo walking straight in and over to the side cupboards.

“Why hello, Leo. Please, come in.”

Leo paused to turn to Liam. “Why, thanks brother!” he said in an exaggerated manner, winking as he looked back towards the wall units, “I was thinking of fixing myself a drink; would you like one?” 

Liam glanced at the clock on the wall. “Leo, it’s not even noon,” he chastised, “and you won’t find the whiskey in that cupboard.”

Leo stopped rifling through to cupboard and walked over to Liam’s desk, a wide grin spread across his face. As he plunked himself down in one of the chairs facing Liam, he raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. After a moment, Liam sighed and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out the Highland Park whiskey and two glasses.

“Keeping it close at hand, nice. I have to say, I like your style. Dad always kept his booze tucked behind the books. Your way is much wiser,” Leo said, accepting the glass from Liam.

“So what brings you by my office? We haven’t seen much of you around the palace the past couple of days.”

“Well, it seemed like things were pretty hectic around here. I thought I would give you some space while you dealt with all the official business. Besides, the casinos worry that something has happened to me if I’m around for more than two days and don’t make an appearance,” he joked. “Anyway, I just came by to let you know I’m flying out tomorrow.”

Liam took a sip of whiskey and nodded. He’d been expecting this since the funeral. He was actually kind of surprised Leo had stuck around Cordonia as long as he had. “Where are you heading this time?”

“I’m spending the next week in Havana, then it’s on to Rio.”

“Of course. Well, you know you’re welcome back anytime. Keep in touch, okay?”

“Yeah…” Leo said, trailing off and looking down at the surface of the desk. It seemed odd to Liam. Usually, when Leo said he was leaving, he appreciated a light-hearted goodbye. Liam figured years of Father attempting to guilt him into staying had taken their toll, so he always tried to show Leo that he understood his need to explore, to go elsewhere. But today, that seemed to bother him, and Liam wasn’t sure why.

“Is something wrong, Leo?”

Leo paused for a moment before he spoke, “You’re doing okay, right?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, you’re okay with the fact that I don’t spend much time in Cordonia, right?”

“Where is this coming from, Leo?”

Leo shook his head, “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t hear what Drake said to me the other day. I know you overhead us.”

Liam nodded slowly. He hadn’t heard everything, but he’d heard enough. And while the fact that Drake had mentioned being torn away from his life had been of more interest to Liam at that time, the fact that Drake had told Leo that he was a bad brother was also something that had stuck in his mind.

“It didn’t seem like the type of statement you’d put much stock in, if I’m being honest.”

Leo tensed at that. “He called me a shitty brother, Liam! Of course it stuck with me! Do you think so little of me that you thought I wouldn’t care about that?”

“Of course not. I just thought that you knew better than to hold Drake’s anger as a source of universal truth, not to mention you never seemed to mind being told you weren’t living up to expectations in this building.”

Leo gave Liam a small smile, “So, you don’t think I’ve been a bad brother to you?”

“No, I don’t feel that way.”

“But Drake was right. I haven’t really been around, I tend to get caught up in my own interests. I definitely have failed you in some ways.”

Liam shook his head, “I don’t expect you to care for me in the same fashion as Drake. He has his way of doing things, you have yours.”

“He called me your drinking buddy.”

Liam chuckled at that, “That’s an interesting perspective. It lacks some nuance, but yes, I suppose you do get me to let go of certain stressors temporarily by encouraging me to indulge in a variety of vices. It’s helpful at times, so I wouldn’t be so dismissive of it.”

Leo just shook his head, “Come on, you don’t need to shield me. If you need to get pissed at me, I get it.”

“Why would I need to get pissed at you?”

“I abdicated, for Christ’s sake! I left you with all the responsibility.”

“And didn’t I encourage you to take that course of action?”

“Yes, but Drake said-”

“Forget what Drake said. His interpretation of our relationship is highly irrelevant, and Drake is going to think what he’s going to think. I am telling you, I do not resent you for abdicating. Being Crown Prince was killing you; you were miserable. I love you, and I want to see you happy. How could I ever hold you taking an action that greatly improved your happiness against you?”

“But I want to see you happy, too.”

“I know you do. I presume that’s why you are very willing to take the full blame for indiscretions conducted by either of us.”

Leo scoffed a little, “Sure, when we were little.”

“And now. I heard Regina had some choice words for you after our night of drinking before the funeral.”

“She said she was amazed that after all this time, I still found a way to be a bad influence on you,” Leo said with a little smile.

“Exactly, and you let her believe that. Leo, you’ve always shown you care about me in your own way. I’ve never felt like you didn’t love me just because we want very different things out of life.”

“Still, the weight of the crown-”

“Is something that I don’t see as a barrier to my long-term happiness. It’s a responsibility, sure, but I am honored that our people trust me as their leader.”

Leo stared at Liam for a few seconds before throwing the whiskey back and finishing his drink. “You’re a good king, you know that right?”

Liam smiled gently, “Thank you, Leo. I appreciate that.”

“And I don’t just mean better than I would have been. You are a good leader. Cordonia is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you. But I think you would have been a better king than you give yourself credit.”

Leo just laughed, “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.” He stood to leave and strolled over to the door, but before he opened it, he spun back to face Liam.

“Do you mind if I give you a piece of advice?”

Liam inclined his head, “I would be a bad king if I couldn’t handle friendly advice.”

“Right, well this more personal than professional.”

“If it’s about Madeleine, give your history, that seems like a rather awkward topic-”

“Nah, it’s more general than that. Just... you need to be selfish sometimes. Not often, let’s say once a week. But you need to do something, no matter how small, that’s just for you.”

“Leo…”

“Promise me you’ll at least consider it. Remember, I love you, so that means I like seeing you happy. And I know you well enough that you might forget about your own happiness if things get hectic. So add it to your schedule or something, but remember, once a week, one thing, just for you.” And with that he was out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hana felt... well, the only way to describe it was gross. She knew that her plan for the evening was not something that was completely acceptable, morally speaking. But she hadn’t known what else to do.

All weekend, Riley had been completely uninterested in talking about anything of substance. She’d listened to Hana just fine and told plenty of amusing anecdotes. However, anytime Hana asked her how she was doing or if she needed to talk about anything, Riley had just brushed her off, saying she was fine before suddenly remembering a story about a funny customer or something of that sort. It was always lighthearted and superficial. There was never one iota of depth to anything she said. It had been shopping and restaurants and tourist attractions before Riley scurried off to get ready for work both Saturday and Sunday, and Hana was done with it. 

Maybe she wasn’t being fair. Both Saturday and Sunday evenings, when she’d been alone, trying to devise a strategy to encourage Riley to open up, she’d come to the realization that most of the weight that she’d felt in their friendship had come from her opening up, not so much the other way around. While Hana had discussed her distorted dynamic with her parents, her failed engagement and romantic inexperience, and her very lonely and isolated childhood, there was very little Riley had told her. She briefly mentioned that her father was long gone and her mother dead, but it had been Maxwell who told her that her mother had died of a heroin overdose. She wasn’t even sure if Riley had any family beyond that, any aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents. And Riley certainly hadn’t confided in Hana about her growing feelings for Drake at any point during the social season or Liam and Madeleine’s engagement tour.

The fact that her friendship with Riley appeared to be fairly lopsided filled her with both pain and guilt. It certainly hurt knowing that the first person in her life she saw as a best friend had probably not felt so connected with her. But more than that, she felt guilty for depending so much on Riley for emotional support and strength without offering anywhere near enough in return. But tonight, that was going to change.

Hana had tried being friendly and open. She’d tried asking gentle questions. She’d point blank asked Riley if she’d heard from Drake while they were at the Guggenheim. But Riley had deflected every single attempt. So tonight, Hana was getting her drunk. She hated thinking of it that way. It sounded so predatory, so malicious. But her intent was merely to use a bit of alcohol to help Riley feel comfortable enough to actually let her guard down and communicate openly. 

Her plan had been simple to execute, at least initially. Riley was off Monday, and given her apparent desire for all things fun and frivolous, it had been very easy to convince her that while in New York, Hana really wanted a little taste of the nightlife. Riley had been thrilled, offering to lend Hana club wear and taking them to a small little lounge after dinner before they headed to a nightclub. She hadn’t been out dancing in ages, apparently, and was very enthusiastic about the idea.

At first, it had gone exactly as Hana had hoped, with Riley downing vodka sodas while Hana just sipped on an amaretto sour as they sat in a little booth at the lounge. When they’d paid the cover to enter the nightclub, the bass from dance tracks resonating through Hana’s entire body, Riley appeared to be tipsy. Hana figured a couple more drinks, an hour or so of dancing, and then they could head out and actually talk.

What she hadn’t accounted for was the swaths of men who didn’t seem content to let them dance without butting in, invading their personal space without even saying hello. All of these men came with offers to buy them drinks, and while Hana always declined, Riley seemed keen on taking every single one of them up on it, wandering over to the bar time and time again, dragging Hana along with her.

Currently, Hana was standing there, watching as a tall man with very blond hair ordered Riley yet another Long Island Iced Tea. Riley was well passed the point of tipsy and was incredibly intoxicated, leaning heavily against the bar, the words she was practically yelling over the loud music slurred into a giant mess. The man in question didn’t seem to mind at all, though, handing his credit card over to the bartender.

“Excuse me!” Hana called out, the bartender pausing to look at her.

“Sorry!” yelled the blond man, leaning close to Hana so he could speak directly into her ear, “I didn’t know you were drinking. What do you want?”

Hana just shook her head and rolled his hand off her shoulder, leaning over the bar to speak directly to the bartender, tugging her skirt down as she did so. The length was not something she was used to, and she was feeling self conscious of how high it would ride up her thighs with her movement.

“Cancel that Long Island Iced Tea, please. She and I are leaving.”

The bartender glanced between the three of them, but after just a couple of seconds, he nodded with understanding. Hana then spun towards Riley,  hoping that she would be a cooperative drunk.

“Riley, sweetie,” Hana said, leaning to speak directly in her ear. 

Riley spun to face her, stumbling slightly on her heels as she moved, grabbing Hana’s arm. “Yeah?” she said, a concerning glazed looked to her eyes as she seemed to struggle to meet Hana’s eyeline.

“It’s time for us to leave.”

“I think she can decide if she wants to leave for herself.”

Hana rolled her eyes. She had hoped that the blond man would have moved on, but it seemed like he had set his sights on Riley. Ignoring him, she linked her arm through Riley’s and started to navigate them toward the coat check, but the man grabbed Riley’s wrist and tugged her back towards him.

“Riley, why don’t you tell your friend you’re having a good time and that I can get you home.”

Riley just looked dazed, her gaze unfocused, so Hana stepped forward and tugged her towards her side. “Riley, come on,” she said before looking at the man, “You are a disgusting excuse for a human being if you think that she is in any state to go anywhere with you.”

“Bitch!” the man spat out, but he seemed to decide that having this fight with Hana was not worth his time as he turned away and walked away from the two of them, probably looking for some other woman to ply with alcohol. Shaking her head, Hana wrapped her arm around Riley and moved them towards the exit. When they were waiting for their coats, Riley seemed to gain a little awareness of her surroundings.

“Where’d Peter go?”

Well, Hana had a name for the blond man with ill intentions now. “He had to go, and so do we,” she said, trying to guide Riley’s arms into her jacket.

“Oh,” said Riley, “Is Peter, I mean, where’s he, yeah, you know?”

Hana just blinked, not really having any clue what Riley’s drunken ramblings were supposed to convey. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get a cab back to my hotel.”

Hana was able to shepherd Riley out onto the sidewalk, but when she attempted to flag down a taxi, Riley batted down her arm, almost falling into the gutter in the process.

“No taxi, only three blocks,” she slurred, stumbling away from Hana and down the sidewalk with surprising speed.

“Riley, wait!” Hana cried out, “Where are you going?” But Riley didn’t give any response, so Hana took off after her. Any efforts to redirect her were met with groans and slurred grumbles and complaints, so after a few attempts, Hana just followed along. Riley was clearly on some sort of drunken mission, and Hana was going to be along for the ride, apparently.

It was a tricky route to wherever Riley was going. There were numerous other bars, clubs, and restaurants in this part of the city, and even though it was after midnight, there were still many people on the sidewalk, many of them just as drunk as Riley. Trying to prevent collisions, dodging cat callers, and keeping Riley upright was taking a lot of effort. Hana barely felt like the sidewalk was any less of an overwhelming place of noise and bodies than the dance club. Her ears were ringing and she was exhausted. She just wanted to get Riley safely into a bed and then go to sleep herself.

After a couple of blocks, Riley stopped in front of a small market, veering towards a side door. Hana was about to correct her that not only was the market closed, but that she was trying to enter what was clearly an employee entrance, but Riley fished a set of keys out of her pocket and fumbled with them, trying to unlock the door. At that moment, Hana realized that this door wasn’t to the market, it was to Riley and Drake’s apartment building.

After a couple of tries, Riley got the door unlocked and open, so Hana followed her into what appeared to be a mailroom for the building and then up a flight of stairs. Hana didn’t know what she had pictured for where Drake and Riley lived, but it certainly wasn’t this. She was trying hard not to be judgemental, but she’d never been inside a building so run down. It had probably been an adjustment for Drake compared to living at the palace.

As Hana trudged up several flights of stairs behind Riley, catching her from falling twice, she couldn’t help but think about Drake and Riley, not only living in this building, but in this neighborhood, in this city. Riley she could kind of imagine, out at a different bar or restaurant everyday, trying new foods and drinks, charming different people left and right. She was so bubbly and outgoing and had a definite wild, impulsive streak.

But Drake? Nearly agoraphobic, routine loving, scoffed at the new and unknown Drake? She just couldn’t see it. He would have punched at least five people on their walk back from the club alone. Try as she might, she couldn’t picture him in a place that was so loud and with so many different people. It seemed like the type of thing he would avoid at all costs. She didn’t know what to make of that. Did Drake have some secret, social side that he only let Riley see? Or was he just miserable and surly all the time? Hana felt like it was probably the latter. It made her sad to even think about. Here he had made a grand romantic gesture, moving to be with the woman he loved, and it was probably draining and stressful beyond his wildest dreams.

Eventually Riley turned down a hallway and made her way to a door labeled 4B. She tried to use her keys, but was struggling to figure out which key went into which lock. After a few seconds, Hana stepped up to grab the keys herself, but before she could even offer her help, Riley started crying, sinking to the floor.

“Riley!” she cried out, crouching down and grabbing her shoulders and rubbing circles against them. “It’s okay; I can unlock the door. It’ll be okay.”

“S’not that,” Riley mumbled. “I jus’ wanted t’forget t’night… T’not feel so bad…”

“Shhhh,” hummed Hana, sitting down on the floor next to Riley, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so lonely. But no one cares,” Riley slurred, head thrown back against the door, “He’s never coming back and I’m gonna always be alone.”

“Riley, plenty of people care about you,” Hana said, trying to provide words of reassurance, but it was like Riley was just giving some sort of emotional speech, and she just kept mumbling the same thoughts over and over again. That she was alone. That she had no one. That everyone would always leave her. So Hana did the only thing she could think to do. She sat there with her, letting her ramble and release her pain. She wasn’t going anywhere, and hopefully that fact would provide at least a little comfort.

Permatag: @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019  @sirbeepsalot  @texaskitten30  @princessleac1  @ladyangel70  @dcbbw @yaushie @octobereighth

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @notoriouscs @butindeed  @addictedtodrakefanfic

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd  @feartheendlesssummer  @ao719  @ooo-barff-ooo​ @sunnyxdazed

[writer-and-artist27]

Chapter 19 Missing Scene

Note: Inspired by two specific chapters in a Fire Emblem: Three Houses fanfic I’ve been reading, titled Godspeed, and taking place between S&S 19 and 20. The ending specifically leads into the main conflict of S&S 20, now that I think on it. I took from this chapter of CYB too when writing. 

Let it be said I regret not writing the scene of Tomo gifting Obito cupcakes. So, I’m fixing it. 

Oh? You’re wondering where this came from? Dunno. Let it be said I have no clue where all this fluff comes from, especially with how the world is dealing with collective trauma. But this oneshot/interlude thingie is loosely based on an actual conversation I had with Josh and Leo when I was in high school, so there are emotions at least.

The theme song I recommend for this thingie is Qonell’s piano and vocal rendition of Credens Justitiam from Madoka. It’s the only thing I found that fit.

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

Staaaaaare. 

I fidgeted.

Staaaaaaaaaare. 

Is he going to let you in or not? Hisako said hotly.

Obito didn’t move when I gently gestured with the plate in my hands for him to take it. He merely kept his gaze fixated on the orange frosting and light white sprinkles covering all of the cupcakes there, his jaw slack enough to hit the floor if it could.

“Obi?” I tried gently.

Obito startled in place at his apartment doorstep, glancing to both sides as if to gauge if someone was watching before grabbing my hand. I did my best to retain my balance and hold onto the cupcakes as he pulled me into his home, eyes frantic as he used his other hand to lock the door behind us. “T-Tomo-chan,” he said slowly once he established we were alone, “this isn’t what I think it is, i-is it?”

Despite the anxiety starting to flood my veins, I still raised my delivery of a cupcake plate towards him. “I felt bad about you having to yell at me and Kei-chan yesterday, so I woke up early to make cupcakes to compensate for the trouble? And as a small apology?”

“I-It’s no trouble!” Obito yelped, his hand immediately letting go of mine to wave around in the air like a limp rag toy. “Sure, it sucked hearing you two talking yourselves down, but being there is what friends do!” His voice pitched upwards like he was in disbelief I was even here offering him something. And his cheeks were flushing red too. What was going on? “You didn’t have to do this, Tomo-chan!”

Oh. 

I sense insecurity here, Hisako added helpfully.

Aye. Outwardly, I smiled wryly and still offered the cupcake plate to him. “But I wanted to, Obi.”

Obito opened his mouth as if about to say something before stopping. Quite comically too. In any other place, it could’ve looked like he had turned to stone. And in any other situation, I would’ve laughed it off and called it a day, but this was still Obito. Obito was still a boy who, in another universe, was so touch-starved and lonely that it took one man manipulating everything for him to turn out evil. And I didn’t want that. I never did. 

“…Why, Tomo-chan?” Obito said finally, his eyebrows furrowed across his forehead. It was as if his mind had finally started turning enough gears to address me as the awkward elephant in the room. “You’re not getting anything out of this.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked honestly back, feeling confused. 

Obito throws his hands behind his head and turns away, gazing elsewhere in his apartment. It’s only then that I notice how musty the place smells. Dusty. Barely lived-in. Almost empty. It takes a bit of my self-control to not glance past his shoulder to survey the place. “You have a lot on your hands already, Tomo-chan,” he elaborated, his hands tightening their grip on each other behind his hair as he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Taking care of the café with Judai-jichan and Hikari-bachan, training with Kei and Hayate, working with Rin-chan in your off-time, and then handling… handling…” Obito attempts to hold back a sigh but fails anyway, exhaling loudly through his nose as he breathes out, “Bakashi,” and I try not to wince at the bad nickname. Grudges were still present, apparently. “So why come here? Why make cupcakes for me?”

Hisako blinks behind her gray glasses as whatever witty retort she had on her tongue is lost in the shared surprise. He thinks you should be spending your time elsewhere. Her voice came out incredulous in our shared mindscape. He thinks he… Oh, Obito. 

I shook my head. “I wanted to, Obi,” I began, my voice quieter in an attempt to be gentle. I had no clue if it was working, but it was enough to make Obito turn to meet my eyes. “You helped me out, so I wanted to do something in exchange. That’s all.”

Obito still frowned. “Friendship isn’t just give and take, Tomo-chan,” he said in the same quiet voice, making him sound all the more serious, but one of his arms still twitched, his gaze flickering between my face and the cupcakes still in my hand. “Friendship is just us enjoying our time together, helping out when we can. You don’t have to keep giving us things just for us to come after you.”

My heart beat at that and I smiled. “That doesn’t stop me from giving you these cupcakes, Obi.”

“You’re not listening!” I jump once Obito rounds on me with a scowl, his voice loud with protest. “You’re always giving things, Tomo-chan! Even when you’re hurting and struggling! You don’t have to do that! We all care for you too! Just…” he simmers down as if he lost steam at the last part, lowering his gaze to the carpet of his apartment. “Why? Why put in all the effort?”

Why try…? Hisako filled in, her tone screaming understanding and sadness all at once. 

I already knew by Obito’s outburst that it was a delicate moment. I was walking on eggshells and anything else could ruin things. 

Like it did with Ty. 

So, without anything to back me up, I said in the same small voice, apropos of nothing, “Because you all deserve nice things and I love you?”

Obito stilled at that. He raised his head to look at me, for real this time, his black eyes wide enough to expose my reflection in the irises.

My tiny nervous reflection.

I tried not to think of a certain other black-haired boy who I loved once, blocking out his voice in my head to open my mouth. “…There’s been times where I look at everyone’s backs and find them looking lonely,” I admitted, shaking my head. “And considering how I’m a civilian and everyone else is shinobi, I just…wanted to give something back, is all.” It still felt like an excuse in the back of my mind, but at the same time, I knew I meant every single word. “There’s so much you all will go through in life away from Konoha, away from the café, Obi. So, if I could do something to help make everyone feel a bit better, a bit happier in spite of the war,” I put on a small smile while offering the cupcakes to him, “that’s enough of a reason, isn’t it?”

Obito blinked at me.

Feeling anxious, I found my thoughts coming out in rambles. “I-I mean, you and Kei and everyone else do a lot! I appreciate you still being here with me in spite of my weirdness, being my friend and caring, so um.” I ducked my head and thrust my hands forward, hoping the cupcakes got somewhere. Seriously, what was wrong with me? “Just take these. Please?”

A pregnant and awkward pause followed my outburst. My heart was pounding enough for the palms of my hands to get sweaty, and once it became obvious Obito wasn’t saying anything, I peeked up from between my bangs to try reading his expression. 

What’s going on? Hisako said for me.

“Obi?” I tried again, gulping. “I-If you don’t like vanilla cupcakes with buttercream frosting, I could try to do something—”

Words failed me once Obito took hold of one of my hands again. He proceeded to lead me into his apartment kitchen and without glancing up to meet my gaze, opened the fridge to gently take the cupcake plate off my other hand. He then placed it inside, probably on one of the shelves, before closing the fridge door and turning back to face me. 

Out of anything he could’ve done, I did not expect him to rush and tackle me into a tight hug. It took all I had to not squeak, inhaling as much air as I could to compensate for the year or two that was knocked out of me in the initial encounter while placing a hand on his back. My feet weren’t on the ground anymore, my calves feeling the cold air coming in from the open window. Sure, I could extend my toes to touch the floor, but… “Obi?”

There was a soft sniffle against the top of my hair. “Tomo-chan,” Obito said finally, my nickname coming out almost like a prayer of sorts as he squeezed me tighter, “Tomo-chan.” This time he gasped for air and I did my best to ignore the feeling of something wet starting to soak the shoulder of my blouse. “Tomo-chan.”

I think you shocked him, Hisako offered, a wry smile on her face. Has anyone said the things you have to him before, dear?

I thought back to Obito’s birthday and felt the realization hit me like cold water. No, I admitted to her, I don’t think anyone has. Except Kei and Hayate and Miyako-bachan and everyone else. 

Who weren’t here in the original Canon, dear, she reminded me almost immediately. Her voice is softer, comforting even. You’re doing good. You’re helping a friend out, so don’t stay here all stiff. 

I wound my arms around Obito’s waist back, hugging him. “Aye aye,” I say softly, resting my nose into the crook between his shoulder and neck. “I’m here, Obi.”

Obito snorts, and this time a hand is on the back of my head, tightening the hug and giving the clear signal that he didn’t want me to let go. “Tomo-chan,” he repeats, a sound caught between a gurgle and a happy sob of sorts following the call of my nickname, “y-you really are—”

“I try, Obi,” I settle for instead, patting his back. “I try. It’s okay.”

I didn’t think I had the courage to let go either. 

Obito didn’t seem to want to point out the little wet droplets covering the shoulder of his jacket once I snuggled him, but at that point, I’m glad he didn’t. 

I could push out bad thoughts and Ty a bit longer with moments like this. 

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

By the time I woke up the next morning to start work, no one in the house but me seemed surprised to hear knocking at the kitchen window. 

“Go get him, sweetie...” Mama muttered from hers and Papa’s shared room once the knocking went past a minute.

Shaking sleep dust out of the corners of my eyes, I drew my short hair into a messy ponytail to run out to the source, nearly balking once a familiar pair of orange goggles caught my eye.

Blue jacket tipped with orange hems and hitai-ite, check. 

“Hi, Tomo-chan!” Obito chirped through the glass, knocking on it again. “Can you let me in?”

I didn’t have the heart to refuse him. “Good morning to you too, Obi,” I said in fond exasperation, shaking my head. “Use the door next time if you want to join us for breakfast.”

Obito just beamed at me. 

[percyscourt]

percy jackson godly parent swap

(those who aren't mentioned in a different cabin stay the same)

PERCY:

son of aphrodite

sally jackson falling for aphrodite in a male form, skin tan and hair jet black, with eyes everchanging between gold, blue and green. sally confused when aphrodite visited her in her usual female form, but realized she loved her just the same

percy asking his mom about his dad, who his mom calls "the most beautiful person she'd ever met"

percy growing up and using charmspeak without even realizing it; "Nancy, just shut up." and Nancy immediately shutting her mouth close, as if she was a robot of some kind. percy brushing this off as the fact that nancy just didn't want to get in trouble

grover and his mom telling percy that they didn't really know who his dad was, but grover had suspicions based on the aura he radiates

his fight with the minotaur still staying the same, except at one point he had to will himself to get up using charmspeak

aphrodite's symbol popped above his head as soon as he was conscious after his fight with the minotaur and percy was sure it was a mistake; how could the goddess of beauty be his father? it wasn't even the fact that she was a god!dess!, it was the fact that percy didn't really see him good enough to be an aphrodite kid, not handsome or stylish enough

percy's siblings annoyed by how little he cares about his looks at first, then helping him find his right style- which they describe as new york skater junkie

aphrodite constantly sending him gifts; letters with love advice, new clothes, all that. and percy secretly reading the love letters but throwing away everything else. (hey he's a confused teenage boy, can you blame him?)

aphrodite constantly voicing her approval of annabeth, and begging percy to just ask her out

percy being absolutely crushed about silena, whom he was closest with, and him and clarisse shutting down anybody who called her a traitor or the enemy

percy being the cabin counselor due to a note silena left behind, just in case, and him stopping all of drew's dumb ideas (the ugly shoes, which were actually percy's shoes he showed up to camp with)

percy arriving at camp jupiter after training at the wolf house and fighting off the gorgons with hazel and frank, only to have people look down at him for being a son of aphrodite

percy trying to impress everybody so much, always trying to show he's so much more than such a pretty face

percy always trying to show everybody he is strong, smart, and a valid addition to the prophecy

percy and his mom fighting against gaea, and them kicking ass at it too

percy learning that being an aphrodite demigod is about loving yourself and caring for yourself, and how that doesn't make you weak, but rather stronger.

ANNABETH:

daughter of ares

annabeth meeting thalia and luke, being quick in words and with her knife, nearly cutting luke's throat

them traveling to camp and annabeth having the natural battle instinct, dodging and slicing at monsters with uncertainty, yes, but also with a little ease and reflex

annabeth being claimed her first night at the dining pavilion, going to sit down with only about six campers, all glaring daggers at her. annabeth not feeling intimidated, but weirdly at home. more peaceful here than at her dad's, anyway.

annabeth and luke swordfighting, and annbeth slowly yet surely becoming one of the camp's best, though she prefers daggers any day.

annabeth getting named camp counselor despite being eleven, because of her seniority in years of being there

her first act as counselor is to redo the exterior of the cabin, because honestly, it's horrendous. she still keeps the theme of war and everything, just minus the bloody boar, because annabeth gets creeped out by it's following eyes

her second action is stopping the "camp initiation" of dunking kids' heads in toilet bowls

annabeth's battle strategies being the best of camp, and her cabin and the athena one always going head to head in capture the flag.

her being one of her dad's favorites and always trying to please him, always pushing herself to be the best

her fatal flaw still being hubris, and she wants to tear down this world for a new one

her having the strongest Odikinesis at camp. her walking into a room and suddenly people remember that thing their friend did to them months ago, then everybody's fighting

annabeth getting the blessing of ares, and oh my her muscles. she's so fit and muscular and built even before the blessing, but after it's like just. wow. percy gets a lot of shit from it "wow you're girlfriend is more jacked than you" but percy thinks she looks great.

annabeth becoming so lost and distraught after percy goes missing that any time somebody mentions him, her grey eyes go black, and an aura of fear falls over that person. of course, annabeth hates that.

annabeth proving to people that ares demigods aren't just dumb, hot-headed jocks, but also smart, strategic heroes.

JASON:

son of invidia/nemesis

jason arriving at camp jupiter as the first and only invidia demigod, determined to join the fifth cohort and turn it around, to avenge those in the cohort who were mistreated and to bring honor back to their name

reyna choosing him as a leader because 1) his strong sense of justice 2) his refusal to let anyone bully other people of a lower ranking 3) while also giving out fair punishments

reyna, along with having her two dogs in her meetings, but also jason as he can sense when people are lookin for revenge/trouble

him getting his memory wiped, waking up in the bus, feeling a strong sense of missing, something he needed to do

seeing that guy hit on and flirt with piper, and jason hating it. he didn't know much- but he knew that he hated people that thought they were everything, people with big egos

jason and his friends getting picked up by this butch guy and annabeth girl, and jason noticing that annabeth was radiating this very vengeful aura. he was so intimidated he almost didn't get on the pegasus, but he didn't think he'd be better off here

jason arriving at camp and getting claimed almost immediately, a glowing scale hovering over his head.

jason walking into the cabin, on one wall seeing a picture of who must be his sister thalia with annabeth and another dude, and on another seeing a bunkbed pushed against the wall. with somebody on the bottom bunk.

jason meeting damien white, his half-brother, and learning about ethan nakamura. at first, jason was completely appalled by how traitorous his brother had been. then, hearing more about ethan and becoming sad, wishing to have met him.

jason even more sad learning that his brother didn't get a cabin while he was alive, and jason vowing to make it up to him by making sure all the gods' kids got their own cabins

jason and the seven fighting against gaea, and jason almost passing out by all the energy people were putting out. wirh every swipe of somebody's sword, it was as if they were basically yelling, "you! this is what you deserve!" and while jason did not see his mother at the fight, he felt her presence near him, giving him extra power

jason dying, begging piper to fulfill his promise of building the minor cabins, because all jason wanted was to keep his promise.

PIPER:

daughter of hermes

tristan mclean falling for hermes in female form, running into her on the beach. like, actually running. tristan running away from the waves after an early morning surf, and hermes literally going for a run on the beach

hermes and tristan going on dates, spending time with each other 24/7, hermes getting pregnant. then hermes leaving, days after piper had been born, unable to tell tristan the truth about gods.

piper growing up wondering how her mom could flake, and how her dad could still be so in love?? with somebody seemingly so normal?? he was tristan mclean after all.

piper growing up, being able to influence people very easily with her persuasive words alone. and when that didn't work, her talent of stealing and lock-picking came in handy

piper finding out about how all her memories with jason were a trick of the mist and her immediate reaction being to hate the gods, and to hate her mother, whoever she was, because why would she let them do that?

piper arriving at camp, nobody sure where to place her. piper walking into the hermes' cabin, instantly feeling at home. but hermes couldn't be her mother. piper was sure.

piper being claimed in front of the whole camp at the campfire, hermes himself showing up to deliever her a special package equipped with top of the line tennis shoes, a winter jacket, and a demand request for her to be apart of the new quest

piper being insanely annoyed with hermes and how he just waltzed back into her life. and how it seemed like he could read right through her

piper hearing about luke and understanding how he could feel hatred towards their dad (or in piper's case, mother), then immediately feeling horrible for feeling this after meeting the stoll brothers

who by the way, became super protective over piper as soon as they met, and who also told her of their prank rivalry with katie gardner in hopes of her joining them. and she did. of course.

piper growing to sort of like hermes, whoch made her feel horrible about betraying the gods in order to get her dad back. piper telling hermes before her friends, to let him know she wasn't a traitor. piper afraid of hermes grouping her with luke. hermes forgiving her, and recognizing her as the hero she is

hermes and piper fighting side by side against the giants, working together as if it was routine

piper beginning to understand how her dad fell for hermes

LEO:

son of athena

athena falling for all of esperanza: her brains as much as her beauty, her strength as much as her character

leo being born with all of esperanza's exterior; curly hair, dark freckles, long legs, and naturally tan/ethnic skin. this making athena love him one hundred times more, seeing him embody the woman she fell in love with, knowing he was going to be unique. knowing he was going to be that much special when he grew up

leo never forgetting anything, especially not years of torment from tia callida. and especially not his mother's death, how everybody blamed him, the words of gaea, everything. wishing he could forget everything, but having a perfect memory. of everything.

this keeping him up all night through every foster home, forcing him to run from each one, guilt dragging him down every step

leo being top of the class at every school he goes to, without even trying. even with his reading dyslexia. leo carrying these grades to the wilderness school, with all the troubled kids who don't care about their grades, just for everyone to bully ask him to tutor them

leo finding out about his friendship with jason being a trick of the mist, and beating himself up about it. constantly. how could he not see it? how could he, the top of every class, the school's pride and jewel, be that dumb?

leo getting claimed as soon as they landed, and being assigned will to give him a tour. leo arriving at the cabin, immediately feeling out of place in the sea of blonde hair and gray eyes

his half-siblings more or less annoyed with his jokes, but nontheless giving him a chance, and them forgetting how they even got along in life without him

him becoming the backbone of the cabin and, soon enough, getting named camp counselor by malcolm pace, who, quickly became one of leo's bestfriends

leo and malcolm making fun of all the couples, and malcolm spilling about the time he accidentally walked in on percy and annabeth hugging, and it quickly becoming one of leo's favorite stories- which he uses to make fun of both parties

leo arriving on ogyia, calculating ways and distances he'd have to travel to get off the island as soon as he landed. thinking the island was something he could solve, and getting extremely annoyed when calypso pointed out it was just magic

leo flying above his mother during the giant war on his invention, festus, which he built with the help of the hephaestus cabin, throwing off his calculated and mathematically composed weapons.

leo waking up after taking the Physician's Cure, finally able to sort of appreciate magic over logic. sort of.

HAZEL:

daughter of hekate/hecate

marie falling in love with the mystery and magic of hekate, and hekate falling in love with marie for the magic she saw in her

hekate granting marie's wish but warning her of its trouble and refusing to stick around long enough to see her and hazel hurt

marie's wish turning into hazel's curse, hazel touching jewels and treasures and them instantly becoming tainted with unfortunes of marie's selfishness

hazel growing up with things happening to her: her wishing something and it coming true, but marie telling her it was just marie's power of fortune telling and whatnot

hazel's eyes and lips trained to read and speak roman, as most of hekate's enchanments are spoken in roman

hazel's little white lies turning into a mist trick, if she lied and said she had an apple, right after marie saw that apple. it was little things, but not too little to go unnoticeable by marie

marie moving hazel to alaska despite hekate's pleads, and hazel feeling as if some part of her was dialed down, as if moving to alaska had diminished this "light" of hers that her mother loved

gaea choosing hazel to manipulate because of her powerful aura

hazel using her Umbrakinesis to shroud gaea in darkness, then caving the world in around her, taking hazel down with her

hazel and marie getting to the underworld and hazel trying to hold on to her life as much as possible, who knows how much time passing, then being tapped on the shoulder by this scrawny boy

this boy, nico, claiming to be hazel's half-sibling, here to bring her back from the open doors of death, with a tip from their mother

hazel arriving at camp jupiter, the first daughter of hekate, hazel being able to manipulate mist and the shadows, even learning how to shadow travel through nico

basically hazel being a badass all throughout the war alongside nico and their mom

hazel's friends helping her realize that her powers are not a curse, but a blessing that she can use to help others.

FRANK:

son of apollo

apollo meeting emily zhang during war, where lots of his kids were

emily thinking he was an egotistical airhead, yet falling for him all the same. emily falling for his never wavering bravery and risk-taking, and apollo falling for emily's safeness yet strength.

frank growing up wondering how anybody could leave his mom, his great mom. frank growing up not missing his dad. frank growing up hoping his dad was at least a good person, and if he wasn't that he didn't pass that on to frank.

frank being a horrible singer, stumbling over his words, yet still being able to heal with his voice, strength pouring from his words to people's ears, telling them to keep going, you got this. like this warm ball of light and comfort was radiating off of him

apollo visiting frank after his mother's death, in the form of a demigod, giving frank his second bow and arrow

frank getting claimed two days after arriving at camp. frank at first sort of hating his dad, this self-absorbed, annoying dude.

people giving him one glance, unable to believe he was a son of apollo. despite his archery skills, he was shy, in the worst cohort, and had none of that "pizzazz." people usually laughed in his face.

frank being ashamed to be in the fifth cobort, when his father was so used to being in the spotlight, so used to being loved and adored, frank being so scared that his father might think he was less

frank getting a blessing from apollo, making him tall with movie star good looks and seemingly glowing skin. frank begging him to dial it down a bit. apollo demanding his son go on the quest, or else

frank's dad constantly popping in during the quest in forms of some homeless man or another, which frank strangely appreciated

frank growing to like him, as he went through the quest, seeing why his mother liked him. seeing a little of himself in apollo, even

frank having the perfect shot, with anything. frank being able to sense the perfect places to put arrows into monsters' chests, being able to sense which place would kill them the fastest

frank meeting will and the apollo cabin, who, unlike camp jupiter, immediately accepted frank and made him feel at home. who never doubted for a second frank's worth, shy, chubby kid or not

apollo constantly voicing how special frank is, how proud he is that frank can be such a geniune hero without all the bravado that apollo himself used.

REYNA:

daughter of pluto

reyna's dad, Julian Ramírez-Arellano, falling for pluto as a pale woman, jet black hair with purple-ish eyes. reyna's dad coming back from war, scarred, becoming more scarred by learning who pluto really was after reyna had been born, and being disgusted by himself and pluto.

julian shoving this disgust on his daughters, screaming, yelling. julian never being the same afterwards. julian always thinking people are out to get him, ideas of war and pluto always haunting him.

julian reduced to a ghost, but appearing to reyna and hylla as a still alive, solid person. reyna driving an imperial good dagger through him, evaporating him forever.

reyna and hylla meeting Circe, and her telling them who their mother was. her promising them a grand future, one where they could get away and above abusive, crazy men, like their father.

then percy jackson and annabeth chase coming, turning reyna's world upside down. reyna going to camp jupiter, hylla to the amazons

reyna's first time shadow travelling being an accident. reyna and hylla being cornered by the pirates at night, reyna just wanting to hide in the shadows of the forest. and then they did. reyna and hylla appearing just five minutes away from circe's spa, both drained from their joint effort but most of all reyna

reyna arriving at camp and almost instantly earning her title of praetor

reyna being able to cast this feeling of fear over people with a single gaze, leaving people frightened days later still

reyna leading her legions into battle practice, hearing the voices of the dead who once held the same weapons in their hand

nico bringing hazel to reyna, asking for her to let the other girl into camp. reyna sensing almost at once that hazel had just came back to life.

percy coming to camp, reminding reyna of the life she could have had. reyna reading his feelings, reyna knowing his past too inckuded death of close ones, maybe even recently. reyna deciding to give him a chance

reyna meeting annabeth and seeing what she saw in percy in her eyes alone, times ten

reyna touching statues of war gods, and being overwhelmed by waves of dead soldiers pleading, begging for help. reyna being able to communicate with some of them, but most of them just mumbled incoherently

reyna going to find the Argo II only for scipio to later get injured, reyna having to put him out of his misery, but reyna still being able to feel his presence as a ghost

reyna shadow traveling the Athena Parthenos alongside nico and coach hedge all the way to camp, nico helping with his powers as a son of hecate

them stopping for breaks at all these historic places, the dead screaming at reyna, begging to be raised

reyna finally raising them at the battle at camp half blood, hundreds of dead demigods rising, tightly gripping their weapons, ready to win back their honor

NICO:

son of hecate

maria falling for hecate's mysterious yet caring, nature and hecate falling in love with maria's soft spoken and kind words paired with her dark hair spilling over her shoulders

zeus trying to strike down the di Angelo kids but hecate tricking him with the mist, though later it backfires as zeus strikes down maria

hecate, furious and devastated, begging hades to help erase their memories, and later place the kids in the Lotus Casino

Nico and Bianca almost breaking out of the daze of the Casino, and having to be served several flowers just to get them to play games; their mom's magic trying to break through and protect them

the di Angelo kids getting out, going to Westover Hall, and hecate paying all the fees

nico falling in love with this game all about magic, studying the plays and spells, learning them. realizing that if he worded them right, he could do some of the minor stuff; levitating, starting little fires, even being able to hide in the shadows sometimes. bianca convincing him that it was all his imagination

percy, annabeth, and thalia showing up and helping the di angelos escape, bianca becoming so scarce and quiet that she turned invisible. everybody thinking it to be a trick of the light

nico being the opposite, drawing attention to himself, all his questions loud, the sound of the forest and nature suddenly shushed, cut off

nico getting to camp and feeling out of place, as no hecate cabin was built, not being claimed. bianca leaving, percy promising, then bianca dying. percy bringing back a hecate figurine, but it being too late; nico slipping into the shadows

nico slowly teaching himself shadow travel and mist control but having to stop days after a simple trick

nico arriving in the maze, using what he could of the mist to distract and confuse monsters

percy and them finding nico, who casts a black stone wall (a trick of the mist) to stop kronos from coming after them, revealing his godly parent

nico having a little bit of necromancy powers, but only for fellow hecate demigods. nico using this in his advantage in the titan war

nico leaving camp after the titan war, only showing up when percy went missing to help look for him. nico finally having his own cabin

nico's mom tipping him off about hazel, and hades and hecate's agreement to let nico pass through the doors of death safely

nico traveling with reyna and coach hedge, helping reyna shadow travel and healing with spells

nico teaching will stronger and faster healing spells to use on the campers

nico learning slowly how to embrace his powers, despite remarks he got over the years of people calling him a freak. nico not feeling so left out and alone

WILL:

son of iris

naomi solace falling for iris' kind eyes and smile that stretches to her eyes, iris falling for naomi's shining eyes, as if the sun lived there

will getting to camp and staying in the hermes cabin until after the titan war, where he was claimed the minute the iris cabin was finished being built

will being able to pull light out of nowhere, in the darkness of nights, like a beacon

will seeing being a healer as art, fixing what's broken and putting it right again

will using his mom's communication skills to calm people down in time for him to heal them, occasionally with the help of nico

will helping the aphrodite cabin with educating people about acceptance and accepting their selves and others

will being chosen to help apollo after he was turned human because of his kind nature and patience

will overall being a ray of sunshine whenever people need him, whatever the circumstances

BONUSES:

clarisse as a nike demigod, and being almost intolerable with her competitve behavior

meg mccaffrey as a dionysus demigod

alex fierro as a hermes demigod

magnus chase as an apollo demigod

mallory keen as a dionysus demigod

halfborn gunderson as an ares demigod

tj as a nike demigod

blitzen as an aphrodite demigod

hearthstone as a hecate demigod

you're welcome

[prince-claremont-diaz]

Whatever We Become

Summary: In Lucas’ final year of high school before he has to face the real world, he comes across the new identical twins, Eliott and Leo. Needless to say, Lucas falls head over heels for both of them. 

Or The twin au absolutely no one asked for

Word Count: 2k

Ao3 version

Chapter Sixteen: We’re all here for you 

For the rest of the weekend, Lucas spent most of his time in bed, only occasionally getting up for food or the toilet. After getting home at almost midnight, after wandering around the city aimlessly for hours, he had done a poor job of cleaning and wrapping up his hand and then retreated to his bedroom for the rest of the night. He adamantly ignored his roommates' concerned questioning from the other side of the door, instead choosing to stay wrapped up in his duvet.

On Saturday evening, on his way back from the toilet again, Lucas noticed a piece of black fabric sticking out from under his shelf full of books, leaning down with knitted eyebrows as he lifted it up. As though burnt, he dropped it on the ground as he realised what it was; Eliott's hoodie.

Despite his best efforts to just ignore it, Lucas ended up wearing the hoodie for the rest of the weekend. It swallowed him whole, the sleeves going past his hands and the hem falling to mid thigh, allowing him to curl up in a tiny ball. He could smell Eliott every time he breathed in, filling his lungs with the familiar scent of cologne, a bit of smoke and something chocolatey.

At 2 in the morning on Monday, as Lucas curled up in the corner of his bed with Eliott's hood covering his head, Manon's voice filtered in through the bedroom door, accompanied by a hesitant knock. "Lucas?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

Before he could protest, the door creaked open and Manon stepped inside. She clicked the door shut behind her, leaning against the wall and looking at Lucas tucked into the corner.

"Manon, I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

Manon shook her head, stepping closer to the bed. She had unmistakable tear tracks on her cheeks and in the low light of his table lamp, Lucas could see her eyes sparkling from unshed tears.

"Me neither," she replied in a whisper, "Can I maybe just… sit here for a while?" Lucas nodded, pulling aside his covers to allow her to climb in next to him. Wordlessly, she settled with her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. She sniffled, wiping away a tear from her cheek.

They stayed like that for a while, sitting together in comfortable and mutually melancholic silence. Despite the constant sinking feeling in his chest since Eliott's disappearance, Lucas felt a sort of solace like this, easily wrapped up with a close friend in quiet affection and empathy.

After a while, Manon finally spoke up, sitting up a little and looking down at the bed. "Lucas… your hand. What happened?" she asked. Lucas followed her gaze, suddenly remembering his poor hand.

"I thought we weren't talking about it."

"But you're hurt," Manon insisted, sitting up fully and trying to take his hand, "That looks really painful, Lucas."

Lucas pulled his hand away, as if her skin were made of fire. Manon gave him a look, shoulders slumping, a pleading look in her eyes. Lucas softened, taking a deep breath. Who was he to try to defy her motherly instincts? "The other night… after something happened, I was upset and took it out on a wall," he explained vaguely, fiddling with the corner of the gauze.

"Oh, Lucas." Manon delicately held his hand, inspecting the bandages up close, turning his hand over and around. "You want me to help bandage it properly? No more questions asked," she suggested, a tiny smile perking up in the corner of her lips. Lucas nodded quietly and then they clambered out of bed and out into the hall.

Once the bandage, which was covered in dark, dried blood, was off, Manon winced at the sight. Even Lucas had a double take. All of his knuckles were red and raw, bruised at the edges, skin slightly torn to reveal raw pink. His fingers were badly scraped up as well, painted with the ugly black and blue of his bruising. "Can you move your fingers?" Manon asked, looking away from his hand and up at Lucas. Carefully, Lucas was able to open and close his hand and fingers. Though it ached, he didn't feel anything out of place. "I don't think anything's broken, nothing's swollen and you can move them." Lucas nodded again.

Manon pulled the first aid kit out from behind the mirror and properly cleaned and used antiseptic on all the many cuts and gashes. Lucas hissed at the burning of the antiseptic but stayed otherwise silent as he let her fix him. Once that was finished, she moved on to wrapping the cuts with more bandages.

"Charles dumped me," she blurted after a few minutes, almost finished wrapping his hand up, "On Friday." She finished, letting go of his hand and leaning against the sink.

Lucas frowned deeper, heart sinking. He knew how Manon felt about Charles. Sure, Lucas always thought he was a bit of a prick, but when he made his friend happy, Lucas didn't care. But now. Now Lucas was having to hug her as she cried into his shoulder at 3 am in their bathroom because of him.

"Let's just go to bed," Lucas suggested once she had calmed down somewhat, reduced to just sniffles.

Manon nodded and without another word, a silent agreement between the two of them, they both went to sleep in Lucas' room.

◇

Lucas walked into school that morning like a dead man. He didn't bother fixing his hair or eating breakfast, only changing into a different hoodie besides Eliott's. His feet scuffed the pavement, ankles weighed down by invisible chains, hood pulled up, head down, running on only a couple hours of sleep. While Manon's presence had certainly helped somewhat, it had still been near impossible to get to sleep.

As he trudged into the courtyard, muttering a somber goodbye to Manon, he caught sight of Yann, Arthur and Basile standing in their usual spot, talking animatedly about something. Upon his entrance, the boys paused their conversation to greet him.

"Woah, hey, man. What the hell happened?" Yann asked once Lucas was close, glancing down at his bandaged hand and back at the deep purple bags under his eyes.

Lucas brushed his friend's comment away, swatting his uninjured hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Can we not talk about it?" His voice, which he had barely used all weekend since screaming for Eliott, came out harsh and scratchy and surprisingly bitter. He cleared his throat.

"You sure? We're always here for you. You know that," Arthur said, grabbing one of Lucas' shoulders comfortingly, a sympathetic smile on his face. Lucas shook his head. "Okay, man, that's okay. But we're still here if you change your mind," he added, ruffling Lucas' hair under the hood.

The bell for classes rang through the courtyard and Arthur, Yann and Lucas started to make their way into the building. Basile, however, stayed back. "Aren't we gonna wait for Eliott?" he asked, holding his arms up as if to say "Duh."

"I don't think he'll be coming, Bas," Lucas said bitterly, already starting towards the school once again.

The other four followed him towards the building and then Lucas and Arthur split off together to head towards Chemistry. "You sure you don't wanna talk about it? I'm all ears," Arthur said as they made their way down the science corridor together, pushing past others trying to get to class.

"Yes, Arthur. Just leave it," he snapped, scowling at his friend. "Please." He looked pleadingly at his friend.

"Okay," Arthur replied. After a beat, "Do you wanna hear about my weekend then? My mum said the most outrageous thing at dinner on Saturday…" And without any further mention of Lucas' issues, Arthur easily slipped into a usual rant about his mother.

After trying to write notes using his injured hand, Lucas was already starting to feel the extent of his injuries. Each time he gripped his pen too hard, his whole hand ached horribly, making him wince. Initially, Arthur stayed silent, watching him write through the pain without any comment.

But eventually, when the pain was too overbearing, making him clench his jaw and tears prick in his eyes, Arthur nudged his elbow, leaning closer. "I know you said to leave it, but that looks really painful. What happened?" Arthur asked, eyes pleading and concerned.

"It's so fucked up, Arthur."

"Okay, one second," Arthur said and then he was raising his hand. "Lucas' hand hurts, can I take him to the nurse?" Arthur carefully lifted Lucas' wrist to show his bandaged hand to their teacher.

"And why do you need to go with him?"

Arthur shrugged. "What if the pain is too much and he faints in the hallway? Someone's gotta catch him." he replied nonchalantly. Lucas gaped at his friend.

Not ten seconds later, they were both out in the hallway together. "Come on," Arthur whispered, grabbing his wrist and pulling Lucas along the corridor. Lucas stumbled after him for a few minutes until they reached an empty classroom, which Arthur promptly tugged him inside and settled on top of one of the desks.

"Why did you do that?" Lucas asked, sitting down in front of Arthur on another desk and fiddling with a loose strand of his bandage.

"More privacy. Less writing for your poor hand, too," Arthur said, as if it was nothing. As if he hadn't just done one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. "Did something happen with Eliott, then?" Arthur prompted, gesturing to Lucas' hand.

Lucas nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "It's so fucked up, Arthur, seriously," he replied, "We went on a date on Friday and he rented out this old theatre to watch some black and white movie just the two of us and it was… so good. It was wonderful…" Lucas trailed off, remembering how Eliott had looked in the faint glow of the screen, heart aching with the ghost of a memory.

"But he was acting sort of weird and jittery and going on about this crazy story about popcorn. Then he wanted to go for a walk even though the film wasn't over yet," he continued, heart picking up pace with a distant, constant worry. "He had a joint which we smoked as well while we walked, but then I sat down for a minute and I was distracted and he just...disappeared. I had no idea where he went and I had to call Leo." Lucas broke off, breathing heavily before he could finish. "Eliott had tried to jump off a bridge."

Arthur's eyes widened, eyebrows raising almost to his hair line. "Seriously?"

Lucas nodded again. "Leo came to the bridge and he yelled at me before he got a call that Eliott had been found," Lucas continued, voice hoarse and wobbly, "He told me Eliott's bipolar." Lucas finished his explanation with tears pricking his eyes, bitterness settling in his stomach along with butterflies flapping mercilessly in his gut.

"Fuck, Lucas," Arthur said, shaking his head in disbelief, "That must have been terrifying."

"It was. I had no idea where he went and he was talking about how we should die that night because we had peaked or something." Lucas lifted his bandaged hand weakly, looking at the raw skin of his fingers, which weren't covered by the bandage. "After Leo left, I punched a wall."

Arthur winced, screwing his eyes shut. "Do you… know if he's okay now? You said they found him, but if all that happened, I wouldn't be surprised if he was still feeling like shit," Arthur asked hesitantly.

Lucas scoffed. "Leo wouldn't even let me go with him to see him, so I don't fucking know," he remarked, a sour taste in his mouth, "All I know is that he's crazy."

"You know, I'm not an expert, but I'm guessing when Leo yelled at you, he was just scared for Eliott. If he's got an actual disorder, this sort of thing could have happened before, so he was probably just worried about that," Arthur pointed out, "I know for a fact that you sometimes snap at people when you're stressed or worried."

Lucas laughed bitterly. "Am I that awful of a friend?"

Arthur shook his head intently, slinging and arm around Lucas' shoulders and pulling him closer. "I'd say you're a pretty good friend even when you're a stressed out ball of anger," he replied with a light chuckle, "But really. Just give them both time."

"But Arthur, do I need to have two crazy people in my life? I don't know if I can handle that."

Arthur squeezed his shoulders, pulling away just slightly to look him in the eyes. "You like Eliott a lot, right?" he asked.

Lucas nodded. "More than I've ever liked anyone else. He was… he was special…"

"Then isn't he worth it?" he asked, pulling away to clamber off of the desk. "If you really like him more than anyone else, if he's really that special, I think it's worth it. He's definitely worth at least trying, I think." Arthur held onto Lucas' shoulders, holding onto his gaze. "Eliott's a good guy, Lucas. It's obvious he makes you happy, so I wouldn't let him go so easily just because it's hard." Lucas sniffled and only then did he notice his cheeks were wet.

"Do you really think I'm capable of that?" he asked faintly, cheeks flushed and damp. He glanced up at Arthur, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

"If you can tolerate Bas, I'm certain you can handle anything," Arthur joked, lightly pushing his shoulder. He frowned again. "But really, Lucas. You've got a whole lot of love to give and I think Eliott deserves to get some of that."

Lucas huffed a laughed, wiping his nose on his sleeve and blushing once again. "Thanks, Arthur," he muttered sincerely, shooting Arthur a small yet grateful smile.

"Anytime," Arthur replied, pulling Lucas to a standing position to give him a proper bear hug, squeezing him tightly. "Now we should probably go back to class before they realise we definitely aren't in the nurse's office." Arthur pulled away from the hug and together they walked back into the corridors and made their way back to class.

Lucas felt just a little bit lighter after that.

AN Sorry for the radio silence on this fic, I started taking another class and I have virtually no free time anymore. 

[vestsfriends]

Divided But United (an Andi Mack HP AU Fanfic) Chapter 2: “Farewells”

Pairings: Jonah Beck/Cyrus Goodman, Andi Mack/Walker Brodsky, Buffy Driscoll/Marty, Amber Kippen/Iris, Reed/Kira, and many more to come.

Characters: Andi Mack, Jonah Beck, Cyrus Goodman, Buffy Driscoll, TJ Kippen, Amber Kippen, Walker Brodsky, CeCe Mack, Bex Mack, Bowie Quinn, Pat Driscoll, Iris, Reed, Lester, Kira, Kaitlin, Kip, Natalie, Gus, Leo, Libby, Dr. Metcalf, Coach Rez, Mr Coleman, and many original characters.

Word Count: 1,887 (for this chapter only)

Note: if you want to be apart of the tag list, please let me know :)

First item, check. Second, double check. Third, triple check...

Jonah scanned his finger down the parchment in his hand for what felt like the thousandth time. He had barely slept the night prior, Jonah was much too excited to sleep. The brown-haired boy was seated on his bedroom floor near his window, impatiently waiting for the sun to appear in the horizon.

Jonah yawned and stretched out his legs in front of him. He glanced down at the green-spotted pajamas he was wearing, smiling silently to himself.

In just a few hours, he would be catching a ride on the Hogwarts Express. No matter how many times he repeated those exact words in his head, Jonah could still hardly believe it. Hopefully everything would go according to how he planned.

He was soon going to the school of his dreams, Jonah would finally find his place in the Wizarding World. Ever since he was a young boy, he had been counting the days up until he would enter the grounds of Hogwarts. And now, it was finally here.

The brown-haired boy hugged his sides in excitement and peered over at his sleek wand resting on his bed, remembering the embarrassing events that lead up to attaining it. Jonah blushed at the memory of the attractive dark-haired boy, Cyrus, and how he had utterly embarrassed himself right in front of him. Yet, even though things hadn’t been too smooth at first, he hoped he could see him again.

Before Jonah knew it, his thoughts were slowly slipping away into the depths of his mind, his head gradually propping up against the wall of his bedroom as he fell into a deep slumber.

•

•

•

A couple hours later when the sun was rising up in the sky, Jay, the human alarm clock, was hurrying from the bathroom to wake up his brother. He tore open the door and sped straight up to Jonah, shaking him from side to side. He was causing such a ruckus that their parents could hear from down the stairs.

“Get up sleepyhead! Wake up! Today’s the big day!” He proceeded to yell at Jonah, who had not stirred.

“You’re going to be late!”

With those last words, Jonah’s green eyes shot wide open, leaping to his feet while almost knocking his younger brother off the bed.

“Ack! Sorry Jay!” Jonah apologized repeatedly at his annoyed brother who now sat at the edge of his bed. “But I need to get ready.”

And with that, Jonah pushed his brother out of the room and locked the door, quickly turning his attention to the completed Hogwarts supply list sitting lopsided on the floor. He snatched it immediately, along with his wand, the textbooks he had bought for school, his suitcase, and his owl’s cage. Jonah heaved, his arms struggling to carry everything, and trudged to the door. Only then did he catch a look of himself in his mirror whilst exiting his room.

“Shit.” Jonah cursed under his breath. He looked himself over in the mirror.

Low and behold, he was still wearing his green-spotted pajamas. Jonah mentally slapped himself in the face as he cast aside all of his items back onto the ground.

Jonah raced to open his closet and grabbed the nearest outfit he could find, seeing as he was already off-schedule. He threw on some black robes with a white shirt underneath, along with a loosely fastened green tie around the collar.

The green-eyed boy scrambled back to his things and pulled the door shut. He hurried down the creaky stairs, his suitcase thumping loudly on the wood.

When he arrived at the bottom of the staircase, Jonah inhaled deeply, trying to calm his beating heart. He momentarily dropped his things onto the floor so he could properly greet his parents who were staring at him with raised eyebrows.

“Jonah, sweetie?” His mother asked, standing up from her chair. “I heard quite a bit of banging coming from your bedroom. Are you prepared to leave?” She gestured towards the door.

Jonah let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. I’m ready to go now.” He grinned happily.

•

•

•

Similar to the Beck family’s trip to Diagon Alley the day prior, they were again swarmed by other witches and wizards along with the addition of many muggles as well. In the midst of chaos, Jonah pushed his heavy cart of items through the herd of people while he gazed down at his train ticket, hardly able to keep his eyes off its golden writing. He searched the signs above for platforms nine and ten, knowing well that the portal to platform nine and three quarters was hidden in between them.

Walking closely behind Jonah was his proud parents and brother who were beyond excited (and nervous) for him to move on to the next milestone in his life. His mother and father held back happy tears as they walked alongside each other.

Unfortunately, during a few moments where Jonah had accidentally been keeping his eyes on his train ticket for longer than he should have, he bumped right into a stranger in front of him, sending a few of his textbooks flying out of his cart and crashing onto the ground.

Jonah jolted his head up immediately. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He held his hands up apologetically. “I didn’t mean to-“ Jonah made eye contact with the stranger, and his good communication skills quickly vanished into thin air.

“Well, I didn’t expect to be seeing you again so soon Jonah,” remarked Cyrus, the attractive dark-haired boy from Ollivanders, with a big smile gleaming on his face.

Jonah’s mind eventually registered that the boy was speaking to him. He blinked away his initial shock and returned a grin. “What a weird coincidence,” Jonah replied softly as he reached down to pick up his textbooks off the ground.

“Is that your family over there?” Cyrus pointed to Jonah’s parents and brother who were standing a few feet back. They had been watching the two boys carefully, sharing knowing looks among the three of them. Cyrus waved at them kindly.

Jonah nodded hesitantly. “Sadly, yeah.” He let out a sigh. “Anyway, I was just heading over to the train platform before I crashed into you.”

Cyrus giggled at him. “Did you want to join me then?” He held out a hand to Jonah. “I know a shortcut. You don’t need to go the long way. I can navigate through the crowd pretty well.”

Jonah looked at Cyrus’ extended hand then back up to his face. Jonah could see a ray of sunshine shining brightly on Cyrus’ face, all of his features standing out more clearly. It seemed as if the wind was blowing through Cyrus’ thick strands of dark hair, making the whole experience feel like a dream. Every aspect of it seemed like the universe was telling him to say yes. Jonah beamed and willingly grasped his friend’s hand. Cyrus’ fingers laced around Jonah’s palm, the warm feeling bringing heat to his cheeks.

Jonah broke the silence. “You promise you won’t take me to the wrong platform? I don’t want to smash my head into a brick wall.” Jonah explained, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

“Of course I won’t. Why would I do that?” Cyrus laughed. “Wouldn’t want to hurt that pretty face of yours.” The dark-haired boy winked.

Jonah’s cheeks flushed darker. “Yeah uh,” Jonah gulped, brushing off Cyrus’ flirtatious comment. “I’m gonna go say goodbye to my parents, it’ll only take a sec.” He awkwardly removed his sweaty hand from Cyrus’ as he walked back to his family.

Jay raised an eyebrow mischievously. “Soo, was that the boy who called you cute yesterday?”

Jonah immediately shoved a hand over the young boy’s mouth. “Shush! Not so loud! He might hear you.” Jonah couldn’t bear to embarrass himself in front of Cyrus even more than he already had.

Jay grabbed his brothers wrist and pried Jonah’s hand off his mouth, ignoring his warnings. He opened his mouth to speak before being cut off by his father.

“Hush now, Jay.” The man smiled at his youngest son. “You don’t want to ruin Jonah’s chances of having a good time at Hogwarts, do you?” He glanced down at Jay who responded with rolling his eyes.

Jonah’s mother came forwards to wrap her arms around the green-eyed boy’s head tightly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” she held him close. “Tell us everything when you come home for Christmas.” The woman ruffled her son’s light brown hair.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Jonah released himself from his mother, turning away from his family. “Bye, see you guys soon!” He bid them farewell before heading back to Cyrus not too far away. Jonah’s parents waved him their goodbyes, their figures becoming smaller and more unclear to Jonah as he walked away.

“Well they seemed friendly,” Cyrus remarked. “Shall we go?” He gracefully held out a hand for the other boy to take, grinning innocently.

Jonah rolled his eyes and played along. “We shall.” With his other free hand, he pushed his cart while Cyrus guided him around the mob.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence between the boys, they arrived at the spot. Standing before them in plain sight was the signs for platforms nine and ten, Jonah’s green eyes now glancing from the two pillars to Cyrus’ proud face.

“We got here so fast,” Jonah raised an eyebrow. “How did you-”

“I told you I knew a faster way,” Cyrus cut him off. “My dad used to have a job that required constant traveling, plus my friend’s parents literally work at Hogwarts.” The dark-haired boy shrugged.

Jonah blinked. “Wait- you know people who are professors at Hogwarts?” He couldn’t believe his ears.

Cyrus let out a giggle at the other boy’s shocked expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to introduce you to them. But I personally think their kids are better,” He continued. “They’re my best friends, and I think you’ll get along pretty well with him.”

Jonah understood. “Yeah, sure. But we should probably go through the portal before we miss the train.”

“Right,” Cyrus stepped aside, letting Jonah go through first. “After you.” He gestured to the brick wall in front of them.

Jonah tightened his grip the cart, gulping down his fear before running into the portal.

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief. The train hadn’t arrived yet.

Jonah was soon joined by Cyrus, whose face brightened with excitement. He pointed to a clutter of people, grabbed Jonah’s arm, and dragged him over.

“Hey, what are you-” Jonah began, beyond confused why Cyrus had yanked him over to a jumble of people waiting by the ticket booth for the train to arrive.

“I’m introducing you to my friends!” Cyrus exclaimed with great delight, his reaction seeming like he had won an Oscar. He motioned his hand over to two people specifically from the crowd, who’s backs were facing them.

Cyrus called to get their attention. “Hey, guys! I’m back.” He cheerfully waved to his friends.

The two people slowly turned around.

“‘Bout freaking time-” One of them snickered.

“Wait-” the two girls were now facing Cyrus and Jonah, their mouths dropped open.

“Jonah?”