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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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Portfolio

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: AU, Angst, Boss!Harry

Word count: 3.5k!

Warnings: Domestic violence mention, boss/employee dynamic

A/N: Hi! I decided to write another fic after Overnight was received so well! Again, thank you to anyone who read and enjoyed it! I’m not sure how I feel about this one lol but I think it’s good enough to post. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and send feedback! Thank you for reading!!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!

Part 2

You had always been a teacher’s pet. Growing up, you were the kid who worked hard to get a 4.0 GPA just for the rush of getting a compliment on your intelligence from your teacher. You craved that validation for all the hard work you put in and you just wanted people you admired to like you. And not for nothing, you deserved the compliments. At work, you were the first one there and the last one to leave. You loved your job and it showed.

You were currently working your first job with any real power at an up and coming public relations firm, Styles Public Relations. SPR was quickly growing in size and recognition and being brought onto the team was a dream come true. You loved everything about working there. The offices were beautiful, it paid well, and your ideas and proposals were finally being heard and brought to the public. Well, you loved everything except one glaring, irritating, and gorgeous problem: your boss.

Harry Styles was a striking man. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and obscenely attractive. His skin was perfectly tan and when it got warm in the office you could see beautiful tattoos revealed by his rolled up sleeves. Those sleeves were worth more than your life and his head-to-toe Gucci ensembles usually showed his wealth off well. He looked like he should be on the front of a magazine, not behind a desk. Well, he was on the cover of Forbes that one time. While he was so nice to look at, the man was anything but nice. He had an abrasive attitude and not much care for pleasantries or mincing words.

Today, you found yourself on the opposite end of his brutal disposition. You had brought a campaign proposal to him for a newly acquired client and he began to rip it to shreds.

“I don’t know why you thought this campaign was a good idea, Y/N,” he told you sternly. “It’s childish, silly, and unprofessional.” Every word he said dug into you. You tried to attribute his harshness to it being Monday, but you knew he would say this to you any day of the week.

“The client said they wanted something more playful to soften their image,” you defended yourself. “I was doing what they asked for.”

“Well, you did a terrible job at it.”

That stung. You had dedicated your life for weeks to this proposal and had expected him to love it. You hoped this was finally the proposal that would secure your position in his good graces. Apparently, not.

“Okay. I’ll restart the project with a different angle.” You moved forward to grab the binder off the conference room table and flee the room back to the safety of your office. You were shocked when he put his own hands on the binder and slid it away from you.

“You’re off the account. I’ll have someone else do a better job,” he spat. Now, that really hurt. Your ego was closely related to your career and you knew you deserved better than this. You did everything you could to hold back your tears, but one betrayed you and fell down your cheek. You believed you saw his hard exterior soften for a split second before his ruthless demeanor returned.

“Fine,” you breathed, never breaking eye contact with the cruel man. “I’ll leave you now, your highness.” The words left your lips before you could fully register them in your own head. You turned on your heel and rushed back to your office, thinking about the insubordination complaint coming your way.

“Did I just get myself fired?” you asked yourself softly when you were finally in the safety of your own office.

The rest of your week passed in a blur. By Friday, you had accepted your fate and decided to get every passive aggressive dig at your boss you could before you carried your things out in a cardboard box. When you saw him around the office, you made sure to make direct eye contact and shoot daggers his way and you responded to his emails with one word answers. You were also producing the best work you had in years. Turns out, spite was a fantastic motivator for you. If he was going to fire you, he would feel bad about it.

As usual, you spent your Friday night typing away in your office. You were a workaholic and had no problem with staying at work late. Unfortunately, so was your new nemesis.

You caught your first glimpse of him after-hours on a trip to the copier. Your next was on your trek to the coffee pot. Later, on a walk around the office to stretch your legs. Each time you saw him, he was in the same spot. He sat at the conference table surrounded by spreadsheets and graphics and stared perplexed at the piles of paper encompassing him. You knew you could go in and ask him if he needed help, but you wanted to watch him suffer. According to him, you would just do a terrible job anyway.

It was about 7 o’clock when you heard a firm knock on your office door. You expected it to be the cleaning crew asking to vacuum your office. With a ‘come in’ your door opened and your boss’ large body leaned up against the door frame, careful not to enter the office he knew he wasn’t welcome in. While you were shocked he was coming to talk to you, you stayed quiet. If he wanted to talk to you, he would have to break the silence. After a few awkward moments, he did.

“Um, I was thinking about ordering dinner if you wanted to join me.” This was by far the nicest thing he had ever said to you other than ‘you’re hired.’

“Well, what are you getting?”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want for dinner if you take a look at the investor relations portfolio I’m working on.” You were taken aback. He was asking for your help. He needs me, you thought as you smirked to yourself.

“Make it the Italian place down the street and we have a deal,” you countered. You didn’t want to spend anytime with him at all but you were taking this as a sign that 1) he wasn’t firing you, and 2) he thought you did good work. Also, their spaghetti bolognese was calling your name.

Soon you were both knee deep in documents and investor information packets. You absolutely could not believe it but the two of you were collaborating well and making real progress on the portfolio. This was the working relationship you always wanted to have with your big shot boss; the opposite of his constant criticism and belittling of your work.

When the food arrived, you both decided to take a break and eat like an entire company’s stock shares weren’t resting on your shoulders. While your conversation stayed surrounding work, it inevitably steered towards the account he had taken away from you.

“So, how’s my campaign doing?” you asked. You knew it was a risky question but you two had been getting along and you decided you needed an update on the account that had become your baby.

“I gave it to Marcus and-”

“Marcus? Really?” You interrupted him. “Marcus is a shithead.” Your baby deserved better than Marcus.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said in a joking manner, with a small smile. The smile was just big enough for you to notice that he had dimples. He had never smiled in front of you before. “He’s doing a horrendous job and I was going to give it back to you on Monday.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the second chance,” you confessed. “Can you level with me for a minute?” you asked after a moment of silence. “Why did you rip into me like that? You could have just told me that it wasn’t right for me and taken it away.”

You watched him think for a moment. He scratched at his five o’clock shadow (that was more like a 9 o’clock shadow now) and you could tell he was searching for the right words.

“Because it got you fired up, but I could tell I hurt your feelings and I apologize.” You never expected an apology for the way he acted and you no longer regretted showing him your emotions. He had hurt you and he should feel bad for it. “I thought you were getting complacent in your ideas and you’ve been killing it since Monday.”

“Thank you for the apology. Here I am thinking you did it just to be a dick.”

“Is that what people in the office really think of me?” He looked genuinely hurt and you felt slightly guilty for being the bearer of bad news. But you hoped if he saw it from his fearful employees’ perspective he would lighten up a little.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He nodded his head. “You act like you have a stick so far up your ass it’s touching your brain and that you’re better than everyone else because your suit costs more than my rent.” If he never minced his words, why should you?

“Oh Y/N, tell me what you really think,” he said after a pause with a light chuckle. You were surprised by his reaction. You never expected him to take something like that so well.

“Listen,” you began again. “I understand and respect your toughness on us. But there is a line between criticism and just being mean.” You decided this was a time to call him on his shit, during this very very rare moment of comradery between you. You wanted to have a healthy relationship with him, maybe even a friendship.

“I understand that I can get a bit harsh. It’s just the whole ‘is it better to be loved or feared’ thing. I’ve always thought fear would be the safer option.” You felt like you were getting to pull back the layers of his hard shell and see the human being underneath for a brief period of time.

“But if you were truly loved, no one would ever betray you,” you whispered softly, always the romantic.

“Love has never been reliable, has it?” Your heart broke for him and you realized someone doesn’t become as hardened as he is overnight. Something did this to him.

“What about love being the most powerful force on earth?” you wiggled your eyebrows at him, referring to the slogan for an engagement ring campaign you were both working on.

“Well, when your wife tries to steal the company that you built together and run away to Spain with her personal trainer, love gets a little bit more complicated.” There it is, you thought to yourself. This was the first time he ever felt like a real person to you; not like a teflon shell of anger, wealth, and ambition. His features looked softer and he seemed less like your evil boss, and more like someone dealing with a painful trauma.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” you said softly, genuinely meaning it. “Oh shit, sorry. Mr. Styles,” you corrected yourself. He laughed at your mistake and you watched his dimples reach their full potential. He looked down at the table, obviously a little uncomfortable with his rare moment of vulnerability with the woman who was probably the biggest pain in his ass in the office. Before you knew it, you had decided to share your own uncomfortable vulnerability.

“My ex put me in the hospital while I was still living in New York,” you began, watching his eyes immediately jump to yours and listen intently.

“Oh Y/N, you don’t have to talk about this… I didn’t mean-,” he tried to stop you but you figured if he shared with you, you could share with him.

“No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time,” you reassured him, shaking your head softly. “We were fighting because I found out he had been cheating on me. I had packed a bag and was trying to leave when he pushed me down the stairs of our apartment building. I broke my arm in two places and I had to have a few surgeries.” You rolled up the sleeve of your blouse and showed him the scar that ran down your forearm. You scanned his face and it looked like he genuinely cared about you for a moment. You brushed it off. “After that, I decided I needed to leave New York.”

“Why London?” he said gently.

“I was obsessed with this English boy band when I was growing up,” you laughed. “I guess I romanticised London in my head and decided it might be a good place for a fresh start.”

“While I’m incredibly sorry you had to go through all of that to get to London, I’m very glad that you found your way to me,” he spoke tenderly. His face was serious, but not the seriousness you were used to while getting scolded about your work. It was gentle and like he meant every word he said. You were happy you found your way to this version of him too.

“To the firm, I mean,” he corrected himself and you felt a weird pang of sadness inside of you. You are just his employee, remember that, you thought to yourself.

“I’m happy I found the firm too. If only I could figure out how to deal with my hellish boss?” you asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes dramatically and laughing at him. You realized that this could definitely be taken as flirting, but you decided were okay with that.

“Maybe they’re just trying to push you because you are by far the best campaign director they have,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back in his seat and watching your every movement. You felt your cheeks heat and the rush of adrenaline from finally getting his validation. This was all you ever wanted from him.

“Oh, I know,” you smirked, leaning back in your own chair and studying him as well.

He really was gorgeous. His quaffed hair had fallen over the course of the day and a few stray pieces hung on his forehead. His black dress shirt fit him so well. You were fully able to appreciate the tailored fit after he had shrugged off his blazer and removed his tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons to reveal glimpses of two swallows that sat on his collarbones. A chain that you had never gotten to see hung around his neck, a cross and the Star of David resting on his chest.

“We should get back to work,” he murmured after a few extended moments of staring at each other.

“Probably.”

You two worked for another hour or so before you let out a small yawn and Harry insisted you both call it a night. Although you protested and told him you were fine, he was firm in his demand that you go home and rest. As you packed up your things in your office, he hovered in the room and watched your every move. Conversation was relaxed and casual, not stained with the malice you usually had towards each other.

He took your briefcase from your hands, offering to help as you struggled to carry a poster and a few proposal binders, and carried it as you walked in step with each other out of the office. When you reached the front doors and went to go your separate ways, you were met with a puzzled look on his face.

“Where are you going? The parking garage is this way?”

“Oh, I don’t have a car. I take the tube wherever I have to go.”

“Let me drive you home,” he offered. When you denied his proposal, you were met with a stern, “Let me drive you home or you’re fired.”

Although you fought him the entire walk to his car, asserting that you were fine to take the train, you climbed into his beautiful jet black sports car with a huff and a pout. He had a triumphant smirk on his face that you were tempted to slap off, but decided to take this as a sign from the universe that you just weren’t meant to get blisters from your heels walking home tonight. You watched as his long fingers gripped the steering wheel skillfully and you both sat peacefully, the silence between you only interrupted when you gave him occasional directions to turn right or left. The soft sounds of a Fleetwood Mac song you couldn’t remember the name to flowed through the speakers and his mouth silently lip-synced the words. You admired him the whole drive home and you didn’t want to get out of the car when he pulled up to your building.

You both departed the car, walking around to the trunk where he had stashed your briefcase. Your casual conversations had long passed, both of you beginning to mourn the night you had together. You had enjoyed this night far more than you anticipated and you hoped this would be the first of many late nights at the office that he would join you for. You looked up at him when he handed you your briefcase and you both stood there in silence for just a few more fleeting seconds, neither of you wanting to be alone yet. You were first to break the noiseless night.

“Thank you for dinner and the ride home, Mr. Styles.”

“Please call me Harry,” he said with a subtle smile, stepping up on to the curb, closing much of the space between you.

“I can do that, Harry.” His first name felt foreign on your lips but it was a welcome change.

“Thank you for all your help tonight. I needed your fresh set of eyes on that portfolio.” This interaction felt so intimate; his words hushed and complimentary, intensified by his body’s proximity to yours.

“Whenever you need me,” you breathed, refusing to break the eye contact you were both desperately holding on to.

With one swift step he pressed your bodies and your lips together, backing you up until your body pressed against his car. You dropped your briefcase to the ground and your hands flew up to the base of his neck. He tasted like the lemon cookie he had ordered for dessert and you smelled his intoxicating cologne as you drank each other in. His hands snaked their way under your blazer and rested on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His kiss was deep and demanding and you weren’t sure if you ever wanted it to end.

This morning you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him and mere hours later you were ready to bring him up into your own. He was infuriating and rude and knew just how to push your buttons. But, he also seemed to be gentle, kind, and thoughtful when he wanted to be. Harry Styles was an enigma. You couldn’t wrap your head around him and it drew you to him even more.

Your bodies flowed in perfect sync with one another and your open-mouthed and hungry kisses were so hypnotizing you couldn’t think. Harry was the only person that existed to you anymore, tuning out the murmurs of a passersby, and anywhere your skin touched his was lit on fire.

Finally coming up for air, you breathlessly peeled your lips away from the other. You both refused to break your eye contact, your hands gripping tight to his biceps to steady your weak legs, and scanned each other’s faces.

“You have a little something,” he murmured, reaching to wipe your smudged red lipstick from your bottom lip with his thumb. You leaned into his touch and smiled up at him.

“So do you,” you panted, staring at his lips that were now stained red.

You both just stood there for a little while, soaking up the other’s company before you pulled away and things got more complicated. He was your boss after all, was this even allowed? Did he want to be something more than coworkers? If things ended poorly, would you still be able to work together? Would he be nicer to you now?

“It’s late. You should get some sleep,” he eventually broke the silence and your spiraling thoughts.

“I agree. You worked me real hard today,” you smirked at him, unable to pass up the innuendo. An amused grin spread across his lips and he took a step back from you, releasing you from his grip against the car. He gathered your things you had dropped on the ground during his assault and handed them back to you.

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek that lingered a little too long to be considered friendly. It made your cheeks burn.

“I’ll see you Monday, sweetheart” was the last thing he said to you before he climbed back into his car and drove off into the night.

Part 2

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #boss!harry #CEO!harry #one direction #harry styles au #harryandhockey

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

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january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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iridescenthor · 4 years ago

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king & queen

Pairing; Peter Parker x Reader

Time Frame; Homecoming

Summary; You worry for Peter, more times than not. When he learns this he pulls you away from homework for the night and takes you on a swing around the city.

Warnings; strong language

an:// First fic on this account and first Peter fic ever lol kinda scared. I do write for multiple fandoms and requests are open!! For Marvel I write for Peter, Tony, Loki, and I’m trying to ease into writing for Thor but I can’t get his personality down good so it’s a work in progress :( I also will write for BTS, all Harry Potter characters, some 70/80s movies and more - feel free to send in an ask if you’re wondering if I write for someone specific. Thank you :)

School had been absolutely kicking your ass lately. Homework upon homework was being assigned in almost every class, and on top of that multiple quarter tests coming up that you really needed to study for considering the material being taught lately was just completely skimming right over the top of your mind.

Normally school came easily to you. You prided yourself in your ambition and intelligence, school had never been a problem for you. Now it was different, now you knew where your boyfriend actually ran off to every night. When he had first told you what the Stark Internship was, you had been ecstatic. Peter was Spider-Man? That’s amazing! It was something he genuinely loved doing and if anything it made you fall in love with him even more after learning he spent his days protecting the city for nothing in return. However it didn’t talk long for the anxiety to kick in.

Now instead of having the weary feeling in the back of your head that he was doing something behind your back, you had an overwhelming feeling of nausea at the thought that one of these nights he would never make it back to Aunt May - to you - safely.

Worrying for his safety was the main cause of your procrastination in completely work efficiently lately. It would never stop as long as you were with him, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t begin to work on at least keeping up your grades while waiting for him to text you that he was home safe for the night.

So, like you had been for the past couple of weeks since he filled you in on his secret identity, you tried to push your anxieties out of your mind and focus on the tower of work in front of you waiting to be completed. Sitting there like a lovesick teenager with your mind on your boy all night was not going to help you pass your classes.

An hour passed, and soon that slipped into two hours. You had managed to complete most of the work assigned but definitely not to the best of your ability. It was already half past midnight, and no text from Peter. You were completely aware that maybe he got caught up on the way home and someone needed help but it didn’t stop you from worrying. He’d usually texted by now, but so far there was nothing. You gave up on the homework for the rest of the night - opting to finish some during study hall the next day or just full-out leaving it all to do tomorrow night.

After packing away the remaining school materials into your bag, you changed into some comfortable sleeping shorts and one of Peter’s oversized long-sleeve shirts. Turning the lights off and slipping under the covers of your bed was the easy part, but no matter how many times you tossed and turned you couldn’t fall asleep without knowing if Peter was sleeping soundly in his bed or bleeding out in an alley on the other side of the city.

It was one on the dot when a soft tapping filled the burning silence of your room. You turned from facing your closet and spotted a crouched figure on your fire-escape. Your heart lunged happily when you recognized the familiar blue and red of the suit Tony stark made for him. You yanked the covers off your body and threw your legs over the edge of your bed, running to open the window as quickly and quietly as you could. Once it was open, you didn’t let even let him reach up to pull off his mask before you were throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. “I was so worried.” You whispered, pressing a few kisses to his collarbone.

He chuckled cutely, climbing in the window to hug you closer to him. “I’m sorry I showed up without texting you first, I forgot my phone at home. I just wanted to see you.”

You smiled, pulling away a little to grab the hem of his mask and pull it gently over his head. Finally you were able to look him in the eyes, and the realization that he returned to you safe once again was enough to immediately calm your nerves. He smiled at you, leaning down to press a short kiss on your lips.

An idea seemed to come to his head as he pulled away excitedly. “Hey, say neither of us were tired and we both wanted to get a little adrenaline rush before sleeping. Would you be up to it?”

You grinned, immediately pulling away to slip on some moccasins. “Are you offering what I think you are?” He nodded cheekily, turning to climb out the window once more. Once he was crouched on the railing of the fire-escape, he reached his hand out to you.

“Wanna go for a swing?” He proposed formally, a giddy grin pulling at his lips as you accepted his hand. He helped you out onto the balcony, before pulling you up to stand next to him on the thin railing. You looked down below, already feeling the excitement building in you at the sight of the ground twenty stories below you, as he helped steady you when a particularly strong gust of wind blew past.

He looked at you, adoration pooling in his eyes as he watched you hold onto the supports of the stairs that continued up the side apartment building. “Ready?” His left arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you into his body and your response was immediate - not a hint of hesitation apparent. You trusted him, you trusted him with everything in you. You released the support beams and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.

You pressed your nose affectionately to his cheek and smiled at the red tint building on his face - whether it was from the wind or the close proximity of your bodies you were unsure. “Ready.” You confirmed in a whisper. A grin spread across his face like wildfire, and in one swift movement he yanked the mask over his head, hoisted you up so your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, and jumped from the railing. Before you both were even halfway to the ground he shot out a web and latched onto the railing of a balcony on another building.

He swung you both forward, releasing the web and shooting out another one whenever need be. Every time your bodies dropped your stomach would squeeze and twist uncomfortably but the smile never left your lips. You moved your head so you were looking back over Peter’s shoulder as he swung, and immediately felt the air leave your lungs. This was what Peter saw every night? It was beautiful to say the absolute least. The lights from the city were all different colors and they were currently all blurring together from the speed of his swings.

You watched the cars driving on the street below and a laugh slipped from your lips. Peter reacted by squeezing your waist tightly with the arm holding you to him as he managed to finally stop you both on the rooftop of one of the fancy hotels in the city. He landed with a soft thud and moved a few steps away from the edge. You unwrapped your legs from around him, placing your feet on the gravel of the rooftop yet neither of you let go of each other. He pulled his mask off once more and laughed happily, pressing his nose to skin behind your ear, breathing in deeply. “How was it?”

With your chin propped up on his shoulder, you squeezed your arms around his neck in a tighter hug. “Amazing. So amazing.”

He pressed a couple slow kisses down your neck until his forehead was resting on your shoulder. “I love you so much.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you pulled away to look him in the eyes. You unwrapped your arms from his neck, opting to cup his cheeks in your hands as you spoke with unwavering adoration. “I love you too. So much more than you’ll ever know.” You leaned in, locking his lips with your own in a slow kiss. “I was so worried about you today. It’s the longest you’ve gone on patrol.” You mumbled against his lips.

“I’m sorry baby, I got caught up. Quite a few robberies for just one night, it was kinda weird.” He explained softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck again.

“It’s alright lovely.” You whispered back, tracing a circle on the back of his neck. “I just want you safe, that’s all.” You sat there for a while longer just embracing each other as the wind picked up. You shivered when you felt it whip at your bare legs. He felt you shake and immediately pulled away with a frown.

“Oh shit babe, you can’t sit out here with just shorts on - why didn’t you say you were cold?” He scolded gently, pulling you with him to the edge of the building.

“No,” You whined, trying to tug out of his grip. “I want to keep hugging you. You’re all warm and you smell good.” A blush rose up on his cheeks once more and a small breathy laugh escaped his lips. He tried to pull on the mask before you noticed his reddening face, but you would have been able to see how flustered he was from a mile away.

Once he was standing on the edge he pulled you flush against him, grabbing at your wrists and wrapping your arms back around his neck. “Cuddle?” He suggested, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask. “I can call May and ask if I could sleep over yours tonight?” You let out a squeak of excitement and nodded vigorously, jumping up to wrap your legs back around his waist with his help.

His left arm wrapped securely around you once more as he got ready to jump. “Sounds like a plan then.” He confirmed, and even with his mask covering the grin on his lips, you could still here the excitement coating his voice.

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brand-strategy-consulting-blog · 3 years ago

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eighty Three

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 25th, 2003

Remy stared at the menu hanging over the counter and blinked back his tears for just a little while longer. Today had been a long, frustrating day, and he was just going to be making his way to Sleep Easy for more long, frustrating work. He needed a break. He needed sleep. He needed food. But he wasn’t about to get any of those things, because he had to keep working even when the going got tough.

August walked out of the back and stood back to the counter like Remy was doing, sighing. “At least it’s closed now?” she offered.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Remy groaned. “I can’t keep up this amount of work.”

“Just a little while longer and you won’t have to,” August consoled him.

“I know,” Remy sighed. “And you’d better come work for me, because I definitely need someone with experience to help train the newbies.”

“Of course,” August said. “Just say when. I’m with you.”

March 28th, 2003

Remy was staring at the numbers so long that they were starting to blur together. He knew what he had to do, he knew how to run a business, but there were days where it was just...almost too much.

The doorbell rang and Emile called, “I’ll get it!” so that Remy could keep working. Remy both loved and hated Emile for that. He kept focusing on his work for all of the twenty seconds it took for Emile to welcome the person on the other side of their door. When the person responded, Remy’s pen clattered onto the desk. The two voices continued on, and Remy could feel himself moving without telling his body what to do. He walked down the steps of their townhouse, and found Emile talking to the voice in question...but, it couldn’t be... “Toby?” Remy asked.

Toby looked over, put his suitcases down, and smiled. “Hey, baby bro. How you doing?”

Remy’s eyes welled up with tears, and before he knew what he was doing, he ran forward and crushed Toby in a hug, sobbing into his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, baby, it’s okay,” Toby said with a laugh. “I never stopped loving you. I never stopped wanting to write. I should have known that our parents were lying about the letter. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.”

Remy just held his brother tighter, continuing to cry.

“Tell you what, though, your boyfriend is a catch,” Toby said. “I don’t know any of my past girlfriends who would track you down for me.”

Remy took a step back and sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “He’s the best,” Remy said with a weak laugh. “I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him.”

Emile kissed Remy’s cheek and Remy laughed again, tears tapering off. “How about I let you two get caught up, while I take Toby’s stuff to the guest room?” Emile offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“No, he knows. He’s gonna insist, though, so I wouldn’t recommend fighting him on it,” Remy said with a beaming smile.

“Oh. Okay then,” Toby said. “How about we get one of those killer cups of coffee you can make and we chat?”

“You come to my house with no warning, cause me to have an emotional breakdown, and then ask me to be a barista for you?” Remy asked, a shocked laugh flying out his mouth. “Wow, Tobes, you haven’t changed a bit!”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, God, I didn’t mean it like that—!”

“Remy, no. Toby, I guarantee he was joking, he does the same thing to me all the time,” Emile said. With a grunt, he picked up Toby’s suitcases. “Remy, go easy on him, your parents abused him too, remember?”

Remy paled a little, and sobered a lot. “Oh, Jesus. Forgot that bit.”

Emile rolled his eyes. “I know. Go easy on him. Make yourselves coffee. Hug. Cry a little. Catch up. But go easy on him.”

Remy saluted Emile and watched as he went upstairs, before the realization hit him. “You bastard, you called the number Dice gave you without me!”

The faint, “Yep!” Emile called back made Remy want to run upstairs and slug the no-doubt smug grin off Emile’s face, but Toby put a hand on Remy’s shoulder before he could.

“You okay?” Remy asked when he turned back to find Toby crying.

“You’re real. I just...you’re alive, and joking, and energetic, and you’re real,” Toby said. “I haven’t seen you this animated since you were in the fourth or fifth grade.”

“Yeah. Being away from Mom and Dad combined with Emile sorta...force-feeding me the idea that it’s okay to feel kinda...helped,” Remy said awkwardly. “I don’t really know what to tell you. The change was so subtle it feels like I barely noticed after a while.”

“I need to pay that man a million bucks. You smiled at me, Rem. You genuinely smiled.”

“Don’t give him more money, he already has a trust fund,” Remy joked, walking to the kitchen.

“Woah, hold up, what?!” Toby asked.

“How do you think he hired a private investigator to find you? Guy’s kinda loaded. Less so since he bought the shop and put some of his money into the PI, but he still has a lot,” Remy said, setting everything up to make coffee.

Toby shook his head. “Holy shit, Rem, you need to tell. Me. Everything.”

“In due time,” Remy said, beaming at Toby. “In due time, I promise I will.”

Once Remy had the coffee pot on, he hugged Toby again, taking in how he still smelled like the laundry detergent he used, how he wrapped his arms around Remy like he was scared Remy would break, how he was warm and alive and felt safe to Remy’s brain. Toby let out a shaky breath. “This doesn’t feel real,” Toby admitted. “None of it feels real.”

“I know,” Remy responded quietly. “But it is.”

“Am I intruding?” Emile asked from the entrance to the kitchen.

Remy stepped back by maybe six inches, still leaning into Toby slightly. “Not at all,” he said. “What’s up?”

“These fell out of your bag, Toby,” Emile said, passing over three pairs of packages, each pair wrapped up in different wrapping paper.

“Ah! Just as well, I was going to go upstairs to get them for Rem in a minute anyway,” Toby said. “Hey, Rem! Want to open three years’ worth of Christmas and birthday presents?”

Remy laughed in shock. “Seriously, Tobes?! You didn’t have to!”

“I know, but I wanted to,” Toby said with a grin, passing Remy one of the pairs, which had a fair amount of dust on it. “These are the earliest, go ahead and open them.”

Remy tore into the paper on the bottom one, and groaned, holding up a For Dummies book on accounting. “Mom’s idea?” he asked.

Toby snorted. “No, I was trying to be tongue-in-cheek about it. ‘In case you want to skip the college classes and save some money.’ Mom would have killed me if she’d known.”

“You know what? You’re right,” Remy said, using the book to point at Toby. “You are absolutely right about that, I’m sorry for implying that you’re in cahoots with her.”

Toby snickered and Emile blinked. “You two look nothing alike at first glance, but your mannerisms are practically identical.”

“That’s the best part about being brothers,” Toby offered. “People would ask if we were twins because we acted so alike.”

“Nah, we just spent time with the people in the house who hated us the least,” Remy laughed, opening up the other present. “Oh...wow. Toby...where did you get these?”

“I know a guy in college who’s a woodworking fanatic,” Toby said as Remy inspected the cooking utensils. “All of them are hand-crafted. Check the bottom of them.”

Remy did and grinned when he saw the initials “RP” embossed on every last one. “I don’t know what to say, Tobes.”

“Oh come on, that pales in comparison to some of the woodwork Liam does,” Toby laughed. “Open the other presents. Two thousand one, next.”

Remy put the book and utensils on the counter, and opened the next set, which turned out to be related. A cookbook that specialized in baking recipes, and a book that taught you how to decorate cookies and cakes to make them look fancier than they were. “This’ll come in handy for the store!” he exclaimed, looking at Toby with a grin. “I’ve always wanted to know how to make the expensive cookies!”

“Game for one more set?” Toby asked.

Remy nodded, taking the last set of packages. He tore one of them open, revealing a soft, fluffy, baby blue sweater that looked like it would give vague shape to Remy’s relatively flat body. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I know clothes are really hit-or-miss, but I saw this and I don’t know why...but it just screamed like something you would enjoy.”

“Yeah, no, definitely,” Remy agreed.

“Uh...it was from the women’s section...if I’m being totally honest,” Toby said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Remy said. It did matter, but not in a negative way. No, it told Remy that one day, Toby might be okay if Remy were to wear something feminine around him. There was hope after all! “I love it still.”

“One last thing,” Toby said.

Remy opened the small package and laughed when he pulled out a shot glass, decked out in rainbow and shaped like a certain unmentionable body part. “Mom would have killed you if I opened that in front of her.”

“Meh, by this time I knew that she wouldn’t be around whenever we saw each other again, so I figured, ‘what the hell? Get him a shot glass that he’d love to use.’”

“I will love to use this on the rare occasion that I drink,” Remy agreed. “And not just because I can pretend it’s Emile’s.”

Emile choked and Remy gave him a wicked grin in response, giggling like mad. Emile took the shot glass out of Remy’s hands and said, “I’m confiscating this so you can’t continuously make jokes about it. You can get it back when you want to use it.”

Remy pouted. “Come on, Emile! I’m done joking!”

“So am I. You’re not getting this back until you want to use it for its intended purpose. I know what you would do to tease me with it, and I’m not having it,” Emile said.

“Am I missing something?” Toby asked.

“You remember when I had a brief lollipop craze in highschool?” Remy asked.

Toby blinked. Then, he turned slightly disgusted. “Rem, that is so much more about your sex life than I ever needed to know.”

Remy giggled shamelessly. “Relax, Tobes, we use protection like you told me to,” he offered.

“You’re getting progressively worse now. Trying to see how bad you can get?” Toby asked.

“Pretty much!” Remy agreed.

“God, I really hate your antics sometimes. Never you, though, Rem.”

Remy beamed. “I love you too, Tobes.”

The coffee machine beeped and Remy poured two mugs full, passing one to Toby. “Shall we go sit on the couch and hang out and stuff?” Remy offered.

“Once I hide your dick glass, sure,” Emile said, ducking out of the room.

“I will find it when you least expect it, Emile, this house isn’t that big!” Remy threatened.

He got no response.

Toby snickered and led Remy to the front of the house, and Remy flopped down on the couch after resting his coffee on the new coffee table. “Tobes, being an adult is hard,” Remy whined.

“Tell me about it. What’s eating at you?” Toby asked.

Remy sighed. “...I worry that I’ll never be enough. I mean, you’ve seen Emile. He’s training to be a therapist, he’s spoken about getting a doctorate one day. I could wind up marrying a doctor, Tobes, and I’ll just be the over-glorified barista who couldn’t stand his managers so he made his own place.”

Toby stared at Remy, coffee in a white-knuckled grip. Remy frowned. “What?”

“So much,” Toby said. “So, so much.”

“Start with the biggest thing and we’ll work our way down,” Remy said.

“Marriage?!” Toby asked incredulously.

“When it’s legal,” Remy agreed.

Toby blinked. “You were going to tell me?!”

“Duh? You still up for being my best man?”

“Hell yes!” Toby exclaimed.

“Next?”

“You’re worthy of so many things. You’re not just an over-glorified barista, you’re a culinary genius and Emile and I both agree on this. Just because you don’t have a fancy diploma doesn’t mean you’re lesser.”

Remy blinked. “Doubt.”

“Reassurance,” Toby replied. “I’ve seen the way Emile looks at you, Rem. The man is smitten. Even if you were lesser, which you’re not, he would never leave you for anything.”

Remy smiled softly. “Anything else?”

“...Abuse?” Toby asked, voice small. “Like, I knew some stuff wasn’t normal, exactly, and some of it was extreme, but abuse?”

Remy’s smile faded and he nodded.

Toby’s eyes clouded with tears. ��She said it was my fault that Jamie stalked me,” he admitted softly. “Because they acted so similar and Mom thought she was perfect for me. It wasn’t until I said that I broke it off because she was trying to force herself on me—which is true, I didn’t make it up—that she sided with me. I knew Jamie was abusive, but Mom...”

“It’s okay,” Remy promised, putting a hand on Toby’s shoulder. “We’ll get through it together.”

“Promise?” Toby asked.

Remy nodded. “I promise.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts remy

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lesbianbending-moved · 4 years ago

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okay so i haven’t watched LOK yet bc i’ve been so scared to ( i’m obsessed w atla don’t hate me) since it first came out & ppl hate on korra so much & say ur better off just not watching it. but from what i’ve seen on ur account u seem to be a bigger fan of LOK than ATLA... why so? (no disrespect to lok at all i just want to know why before i start watching it bc i’ve heard so many bad things about it) thank you! 🥺♥️ love your account!

hi! thank u sm!! i wouldn’t say i like lok more than atla, i love them both for different reasons!! it just depends on the vibe i’m in (recently i’ve been in a lok vibe can you tell). i think there are parts of atla that lok is much better at portraying and vice versa, but i don’t like comparing the two shows bc they are v v different (which is where a lot of the hate comes from). i’ll b honest, i was v hesitant to watch lok bc atla was the most formative show for me growing up but now i love it so much! i can’t say whether you will like the show bc everyone’s different but i will say if you go into the show hoping for an atla pt. 2 you won’t like it. if you are open to change in the atla universe and want something that feels familiar but also v different you will love it. i agree with the idea that lok is a more ‘grown up’ version of atla, and for that reason i want to (as objectively as i can) give a brief breakdown of the differences b/w both shows:

PLOT:

this is the first HUGE deviation: atla is very character driven where lok is very plot driven.

each has it’s pros and cons, but bc the plot changes with each season of lok while the show remains plot driven this leads to some characters feeling underdeveloped. this wasn’t necessarily the writers’ faults, they went into each season not knowing if it would be the last, so there isn’t a whole lot of time to have character driven episodes like atla’s ‘tales of ba sing se’ or ‘appa’s lost days’. which leads me to!

CHARACTERS:

here’s the honest truth - lok has much deeper, complicated, and developed female characters than atla. both in numbers and in growth, lok succeeds at this.

lok is v woman-centric with many women of all ages who have complicated relationships with themselves, their family, their loved ones, etc. they don’t try to make their women likeable or perfect, they are all allowed to be loud and angry and right and wrong and they’re allowed to make mistakes and grow. they’re people. even if a character doesn’t have entire episodes dedicated to them, they still have arcs that span seasons and make them feel like real people. the women of lok made me realize how much more we could have had from the women of atla (not that they aren’t amazing or well developed, it’s just deeper characterization)

korra has an arc that rivals zuko. i could go into it but i don’t want to give spoilers :^) and even parallels him in an episode in book 4 called ‘korra alone’ (the best lok episode sorry).

for this reason every woman in my life who has seen all of lok has loved it (actually i am the only woman i know who doesn’t have a preference of lok over atla)

VILLAINS:

the villains in lok are much more complicated than in atla. they all are compelling and make us ask questions about ourselves as the villains hold ideals that we all believe in but take them to extremes. for example:

if a group of people feel they are being persecuted and demand equality, how far is too far? what if a group has genuine grievances but resorts to violent guerilla warfare and terrorism against innocents as that is the only way to gain equality?

what if a new leader arises who wants to take down a monarchy that has only brought pain and suffering to a country? what if this new leader truly loves their country and will do anything to ensure everyone prospers after centuries of the rest of the world allowing them to be degraded by idiotic monarchs? what if this new leader who is wildly popular among the masses becomes a dictator? do you replace the dictator who loves their country and has made true strides in progress for an airhead monarch with no idea of how to rule a country?

WORLDBUILDING

this is where lok loses a lot of people who are atla purists (this and the plot driven nature of the show where they are attached to atla being character driven)

lok takes place 70 years after atla and it shows! the world has grown! it has changed! the places that look the same (ba sing se and the earth kingdom villages) are shown to be poorly led and in political disarray. they didn’t evolve in the last 70 years because there was no leadership to move them forward.

the first thing i noticed (outside of the snazzy 20s music) was the bending. i’m gonna be honest, i did not like the bending at first. atla shows bending as a very classical art form, so to see it has changed so much in lok worried me at first. once i began to appreciate the attention to detail as to how a world evolves, i realized that the changes in bending are one of the coolest parts of the show.

it’s not completely different. it’s just different enough where you can see the logical progression of time that would come through in the real world. it makes sense for lightning bending to become more common! it makes sense for more people to know metalbending as toph teaches a new generation of earth benders who continue to pass it on to others! it makes sense for the styles of bending to have changed in places because it’s a living art!

looking back on it, the bending feels like this: atla bending is like reading a classic like jane austen or shakespeare where lok bending feels like reading a contemporary novel. you can see the resemblance, you can see where the younger generation gets their inspiration, but the language has evolved. it’s so cool.

i got your other ask and i will answer it separately as i don’t want to make this unbearably long!! i hope this helps!

EDIT: just wanted to add real quick that bc they have the same creators and writers the writing of lok feels v similar to the writing of atla! it has the same charm and depth while also showing growth. so you don’t need to worry about the writing styles/characterizations feeling totally unbalanced. anyways!

EDIT AGAIN: if you don’t mind v minor spoilers i reccomend watching the trailers for book 3 and book 4. they don’t give away much but give a good idea of the tone of the show and might give a better insight as to if it’s for you

#long post #Anonymous

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x-reader-theater · 5 years ago

Text

Even Shields can’t Protect my Heart

Relationship: William T. Riker X Male!Engineer!Reader

Summary: Serving on the Enterprise is a dream come true, and the people only make it better.

Warnings: Cursing, and lots of engineer jargon that’s probably woefully incorrect.

Word Count: 10,382 words

A/N: Ho-ly shit. This is a long time coming. And it’s super long. Wow. Well, I didn’t want to do another series so here’s a ten thousand word something that I wrote because I’ve been obsessed with Star Trek for the past two months, and there’s barely any reader stuff for Next Generation, and no Male readers whatsoever, which is disappointing. But, I’ve written something purely for my own amusement. I feel a little bit like Q, but I love them so that’s not a bad thing. Anyways, please like, reblog, and tell me what you think! Asks are always appreciated! <3

"Computer! Where is Commander Riker?" You call out from your personal quarters. You're seated at your desk, papers all around you.

"Commander Riker is in holodeck three," Computer responds. "Would you like me to hail him?"

You shake your head. "No, Computer, that's alright thank you." You stand up from your desk and reaffix your badge to your shirt, making sure your pips are still attached to your lapel. Satisfied with how you present you leave your quarters, making a beeline to the holodeck suits. You've used them once or twice before, recreating your small ranch where you're from. It wasn't the same without the actual people there though. There was only so much you could program the computer to do.

As you round the corner you slam into someone coming at you at full force. You stumble back, catching yourself on the wall before looking up into the face of Data, who was walking through the halls staring at his data-padd. You laugh in your head at that one.

"I am sorry, Lieutenant. I did not see you there," Data states, looking down at you.

You straighten out and brush yourself off out of habit. "It's alright Data. What were you so focused on there?" You lean forward to see what he's looking at.

"Oh, it is just a simple riddle Commander LaForge has given me."

You smile. "If it's so simple, why are you so concerned with it?" Data looks confused for a moment and you pat him on the shoulder. "Sometimes Data, the most complicated questions have the simplest of answers."

And with that you leave, turning around the corner to the holodeck suits. You hear Data say behind you, "Oh! Silence!" and you laugh as you walk. Coming upon holodeck three, you tap the open button, and watch as the doors open to reveal a bar, 1950s in decoration, and a few men standing on the stage, Commander Riker being one, playing to an empty room. Riker sets down his trombone and looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

"Commander Riker, I had a question for you… but I seem to have… forgotten it…" you say, trailing off for a moment. "What… is this place?"

You look around the bar, and cock your head at the sight of no people. "It's just something of my creation. The people held a bad memory, but I love the space, the atmosphere." Riker smiles and looks around. "It's like no other."

You smile and sit down at one of the tables, saying to the room, “Computer, can I get a glass of whiskey please?” You feel pleased when it appears in your hand. You take a sip of the non-alcoholic recreation and gesture with the glass towards Riker. "Don't stop on my account. Maybe when you're playing the question will return to me," you say with a sly smile. You have no idea where this burst of confidence came from, where this spark of self worth and ability to flirt with the Commander came from. You just really wanted to hear the Commander play.

You get your wish. Commander Riker picks up the trombone again and perfectly slots himself into the already playing band. His playing makes you close your eyes. You had no idea the commander could play an instrument. He isn't perfect or absolutely amazing to any extent, but he is good. And you are seeing a side of the commander you've never seen before.

You get up, slowly letting the music carry you to the bar, where you let the holodeck refill your glass of non-alcoholic Whiskey. You smile languidly and watch as the amber liquid fills the cup once more. Picking up the glass you place it to your lips, taking a drink of the burning, but still pleasing, liquid. Setting the glass down you see the Commander start to set down the trombone. You raise your eyebrows and watch as he comes over.

"Why did you stop?" You ask as he sits across from you. The music hasn't stopped, no you feel all the eyes of the players on your back. For being a simulation, they feel incredibly real.

Riker summons a glass of a dark liquid. It fizzes and doesn't look like alcohol. It gives off a sweet smell. "It's hard to talk with a 'bone to your lips," he says casually.

"What do you want to talk about?" You cross your legs and set your glass down on the bar, before folding your hands in your lap.

Riker sighs and looks at his own glass, the dark liquid filling up again in the glass, as if by magic, but you knew it was the computer. "You're a new officer, correct?" He asks.

You lean back against the bar slightly, placing an elbow on the dark wood to steady yourself, your fingers still intertwined. You shrug. "Relatively. About two years. Shorter than most on the ship. Much less than yourself," you respond carefully. You don't want to say the wrong thing and break what you have just built up. It was a delicate sort of conversation that was precious.

The Commander clears his throat and reaches out, as if to touch you, bit he stops himself. "I-uh…" He clears his throat. "I was wondering how you were feeling about your time on the Enterprise? You have progressed remarkably fast through the ranks of Starfleet. There have only been three others faster than you Lieutenant. Ahem, Lieutenant Junior Grade [L/N]."

You smile and unclasp your hands. "I am enjoying my time here immensely Commander Riker," you respond in kind, a genuine smile on your face.

The Commander puts his hand up for a moment to stop you from speaking. "Please. In a setting like this, just William is fine."

You smile. "Okay, William. As long as you call me [Y/N]."

The Commander, William, nods. "Yes, yes, of course. It's only fair."

You smile, humorously. "And you're nothing if not fair," you joke. He laughs quietly. "But yes, William. I am having a very good time here on the Enterprise. I never thought it possible for me to have this, this position, be on this ship, know these people. After I was transferred from the U.S.S. Valentina, I thought I could never never find family again." You laugh as you lean back, thinking about your messed up family. "The captain, well, he's like an overbearing father you just can't help but love." You laugh at the idea of being a father. "Dr. Crusher is obviously the mother. Lieutenant Commander Data is like a brother, Geordi the same, but also different. Lieutenant Commander Worf is that fun uncle who always tries to get you to do things dad doesn't want you to." You start laughing when you think back to that time Worf tried to teach you how to fight like a Klingon with a Bat Leth. Or that time he trained you to use an actual Klingon D'k Tahg. "And Counselor Troi is like an aunt who always knows what's best for you."

"What about me?" William asks, leaning forward slightly.

"You?" You contemplate for a moment. Where did you see him? "I don't exactly know. You're not a brother, an uncle, a father. You've just sort of… been there. I don't know…" you trail off, looking away at the floor. You feel your cheeks flush slightly, and shake your head, hoping William doesn't notice.

You get up suddenly, not looking at William. You clear your throat. "Ahem, excuse me. I need to get back to work."

You go to leave, but William grabs your wrist. "Why, we were just getting comfortable." You know he's smirking, and you feel pain in your chest as you pull away.

"Please Commander. I have neglected my duty long enough. I must get to engineering," you say, walking away from the Commander.

"Computer, end simulation," Riker says, but that doesn't stop you from walking out of the doors and making your way to engineering, leaving the Commander alone in the empty holodeck.

It's three weeks until you see the Commander again. You've been keeping to yourself, talking to Geordi and Data mostly out of the you've gotten a few direct orders from the Captain and even Commander Riker, but you haven't seen him in person ever since that time in the holodeck. If you even hear him talking in the hallway, without even looking you will turn away, your cheeks flaming up.

Now, you can't ignore it. The Commander is standing right beside you, leaning over the console, his chest and inch away from your shoulder.

"What do we see here Lieutenant?" The Commander asks.

You point to a blip on the screen and say to Riker, "It seems there's some interference coming from the planet below Commander. It's sending out wave after wave of radiation I've never seen before. I asked the computer and they couldn't find a single thing like it!" You exclaim. You have a grin on your face as you say this.

"Why so cheery Lieutenant?" Commander Riker asks.

"Well, this is all so new! I've been studying different kinds of radiation since my academy days and I just can't find anything related to it. Permission to do a deep scan and some tests? It would be better to get my hands on some of the radiation up close, but we don't know how dangerous this is!" You exclaim excitedly.

Riker chuckles and says in a low tone, "Sure. Go for it." You smile and turn to start the deep scan of the radiation. Riker doesn't move. "I didn't know this was an area of expertise for you. I would have had you come on this ship earlier."

You roll your eyes and look up at him. “Yes because you care so much for engineering.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’d be surprised about what I’m interested in.”

“Oh I’d like to know more about those interests that I supposedly do not know about,” you say with a smirk.

The computer beeps and you and you turn away from the Commander to look at the results. It’s a low grade radiation, something with a lot of energy, not harmful to humanoids but harmful to smaller life forms. Children might be susceptible to it. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before. “Hm… Interesting,” you say, leaning into the screen.

“What is it?” Riker asks, leaning in with you.

“I’ve never seen anything like this. It must have something to do with the geology of this planet. Permission to run a scan of the surrounding area? I want to make sure everything is safe for the captain to report to Starfleet, so we can actually put a colony here,” you explain.

The Commander nods. “Of course.” He gets up to leave, but stops before exiting engineering. “And Lieutenant?” You look behind you, pausing in your work for just a moment. “Meet me in Ten Forward. At 2000 hours.” He grins at you and you nod. He walks out of the room and your eyes don’t leave him until the doors from engineering close behind him. You’re smiling, happy with the conversation you just had with the commander, and excited for tonight, for you to meet with the commander tonight. You don’t know what it means, what this flirting thing you have with the commander is, what’s going on between the two of you. But you do know one thing:

You're so fucked.

Ten Forward is close to empty by the time you step into the main room. The secondary shift for the night has taken their positions for the night, which means most of those who usually populate Ten Forward are on duty.

Commander Riker must have chosen this time specifically because of the lack of distractions. He's very good at what he does.

You spot him by one of the windows overlooking all of space. He looks very regal silhouetted against the dark expanse of the universe, still in his command uniform. You’d be surprised if he didn’t sleep in it. You yourself have changed out of your engineering gold into something more casual, something that reminds you of home. No one really dresses like this anymore, but your family has always been one for tradition. Your checkered button down is tucked into your boot-cut blue jeans, which are over a pair of old cowboy boots. They were your grandfathers, and they are still in beautiful condition. You walk over to the commander, your hands behind your back, wringing out your fingers as you approach. You can feel the bile rising from your chest but you swallow it down. The hairs on your arms stand on end the closer you walk. The clicking of your boots is the only sound you hear over the roaring of blood in your ears.

Riker looks up at you as you approach the table. His face breaks out in a smile so genuine you're afraid his face might split in twain.

You sit down in front of him. There's music playing in the background. Light piano. Nothing you recognize. Riker must have asked Guinan to play it. You sit down in front of the Commander.

"Hello Mr. [L/N]. I didn’t think you would make it," he says as you take your seat.

"Hello Mr. Riker. I was caught up in engineering. Geordi had to physically pry me from my chair," you return.

Riker leans back and chuckles. "Please. Like I said, call me William."

“And like I responded, call me [Y/N].” You lean back in your chair and cross your arms. “I’m not on duty, am I?”

William chuckles and leans in as someone comes up to your table, a man who’s carrying a drink tray. “Hello, what can I get you?”

You don’t take your eyes off William as you say to the server, “Whiskey. Real.”

The server turns and begins to address the man leaning into you, but he interrupts. “I would like the same.”

You look up at the server and say to him, “And can you get us some Texas Barbeque? My father’s recipe if you will. It will be under [L/N]’s Texas Barbeque.” The server nods and you smile at him as he walks away. William is staring at you, incredulous and a little confused. “What? I’m feeling nostalgic tonight.”

“Is that why you’ve dressed up?” William asks

You chuckle. “I think to most this would be considered dressing down.” William laughs lightly along with you. “But yes. While the rest of the world has progressed past the need to ranch animals, my family has resisted the change. But, with that, they also make the best Barbeque you can find.”

William smiles. “I see. What does this ‘ranching’ entail exactly?”

You shrug. “It’s mainly just raising animals. My family's been doing it for ages. They used to go into the larger town, I believe it was called Austin before San Antonio grew too large and incorporated it," you explain. "Anyways, they would kill the older chickens, pigs, and cows to sell to local butchers. Or on Sundays there was something called a "Farmers Market" when there were more farmers than there are now." You lean back in your chair and cross your arms. "Now we just raise the animals, taking care of them before they die." You grin as a large plate of Barbeque is brought over and places in front of you. It's beef, you recall as you bring up the family recipe in your mind. "Amd, if an animal gets injured or otherwise can't take care of itself, we kill it, cook up the meat into barbeque, and use the bones, hooves or feet, beaks, and anything 'inedible' and use it to make a broth. That allows us to make soups and other foods that last us a long time. At least until the next animal dies."

You pick up the barbeque with your fingers as William goes for his fork and knife. He looks at you quizzically before setting down the utensils and going in with his bare hands. You smile at that. You take a bite of the sweet but slightly charred meat, the juices running over your tongue and down your chin. You let out a small laugh and chew as you use your napkin to clean up what got on your chin and subsequently, your neck.

William smiles at you and swallows before saying, "I never thought to eat finger food on the first date."

Your brain goes blank for a moment. Is this a date? Are you on a date? With your Commander? That's almost as bad as the Captain. But do you want it to be a date? Do you want to go through with this? Yes.

Your lips quirk into a smile and you taste a little bit of the char still on your lips. "My mother used to say it builds a connection utensils could never hope to achieve. It breaks down walls, and allows everyone to be honest. There's no hiding, no pretend here. You get messy, you work through it together. Just like you should." You smile fondly at the memory. You miss your mother. You haven't seen her in a few years. You talk often enough, but screen communication is never as good as the real thing. You can't hug your mother through a screen. Maybe the next time you're near earth you'll ask if you can make a stop for a few days.

William smiles at that and picks up a piece of barbeque with his fingers and days before taking a bite, "Your mother is a very wise woman."

You direct your smile at William now as you say, "She sure is."

“Uh… Commander? I think you’ll want to see this…” You say, directing your comment to Geordi.

He walks over and leans over your shoulder, huffing as he sees what’s on your monitor. “Well I’ll be…”

“But Commander?” You say, making it more of a question than a statement. “How is this possible? This can’t be real.” You lean in towards the simulation the computer is providing and say quietly, “There’s no way the radiation could be moving!”

Geordi places a hand on your shoulder. “Well, figure out how. It doesn’t seem to be affecting anything yet but we can’t know for sure.”

You nod and turn back to the computer, where you start running continuous scans on the now moving radiation.

You lean back in your chair and rub your eyes, letting out a yawn before blinking at the screen in front of you. It’s nearing the end of your shift. You reach out for a glass of water, but your hand hits air. Right. No drinks in engineering. Your stretch your arms as those on the night shift take their place. You feel a hand on your shoulder and jump at the sudden touch.

“Oh! Sorry Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to startle you,” ensign Torres says.

You shake your head and press a hand to your temple, a pain starts to drill into your temple. You unclench your jaw but that doesn’t help. “No worries ensign. I was just thinking.”

He places another hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to sick bay?”

You shake your head, but that only makes the pushing pain worse. “No, it’s just a headache. It’ll pass. Eventually.” You start to move from your chair, but you stumble into ensign Torres arms. He reaches out and catches you as you feel the pain deepen, like a screw being pushed into your skull without a drill or a screwdriver to help. You wrench your eyes closed. The engineering lights are too bright. You cry out in pain and can barely hear ensign Torres call out to the computer, “Esign Torres to Sickbay! Medical Emergency in Engineering!”

You hear someone say from the otherside, “Acknowledged. I’ll be there in a moment. Crusher out.”

The pain keeps building. Soon you can’t hear the beeping of the Engineering, something that’s come to feel comforting. There’s a buzzing in your ears and your face becomes hot as you continue screaming. You don’t know if there’s any sound coming out anymore, or if your throat has just been run raw, and nothing escapes but air. You feel your knees hit the floor, the pain from the sudden fall gives you a moment to think about something else, before the pain returns to your temples and you feel the air escaping your lungs again. You clutch at your hair and you wouldn’t be surprised if your hands were full of chunks of your own hair. You feel more hands on you, dragging you up to your feet. You’re still screaming when a hypospray is placed at your neck, and you finally fall into unconsciousness.

The pain doesn’t stop.

You look around the dark. You’re not dreaming, you’re actually here. You reach down and feel your shirt, the yellow engineering uniform is coarse underneath your fingers. You look up and shout out, trying to call out to something, but it’s as if you’re in space, and there’s nothing for your voice to bounce back from. Looking around, you realize you’re not in the pitch black you thought you were in. There’s small stars dotting the blackness.

They’re not stars, you realize, because they start to move.

They swirl and congeal in front of you, and as you look up, this humanoid made of stars looks up as well.

“Who are you?” you ask into the quiet room. With the coagulated humanoid in front of you, your voice has something to reflect off of.

The creature tilts its head and repeats back in a poor imitation of your voice, “Who are you?”

“I’m [Y/N],” you say. “Who are you?”

You reach out a hand, and the stars follow, like a mirror. You reach out your left hand, it reaches out its’ right. “I’m [Y/N],” it mimics again. The voice is closer this time. “Who are you?”

You look down, your arm dropping to your side. You sigh. “This obviously isn’t working…”

“This obviously isn’t working…” the mimic says.

You look up and the amalgamation of stars follows. You squint your eyes. You reach out.

You take a step forward.

This isn’t a dream. You can move forward. The stars take a step back.

It doesn’t take a step back exactly the way you took a step forward. It shows hesitation. Your eyes widen. It isn’t a mimic. It’s doing this because it doesn’t know anything else.

You reach your hands out, gently, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” you say softly.

You take a step forward.

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” the stars reply back.

They take a step forward.

Your face breaks out into a grin and you take another step towards the creature. They take a step towards you. You reach out, each step closing the distance between the two of you. You feel the energy in the air, the charging of electrons the closer you get. The hair on your arms stands on end. You feel goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. There’s a prickling of static building in your fingers. You reach closer. Pins and needles burst from your heart, traveling through your veins out into your limbs, your fingers and toes going numb.

You reach out.

Your fingers brush the stars.

You feel the pushing of the pain from before at the back of your skull, but you feel the stars trying to communicate to you to let go. You close your eyes and feel the stars envelop you. You open your mouth, breath out, and let the stars in.

They rush into your mouth, into your throat, and for a moment you think you’re choking, but you don’t need to breathe. They settle, higher than your stomach, past your lungs and ribs, right in the middle where your heart sits.

And you know everything the stars want you to know.

You gasp awake, your eyes split open. The bright lights of sickbay make you want to close them again, but you force yourself not to. You look up and see Dr. Crusher and a few of her nurses standing around you. You can hear them talking, but you can’t understand what they’re saying. You’re still panting when Dr. Crusher walks over and places a soft hand on your back. You shake your head and it's as if your thoughts clear away and you can finally understand what language they're speaking.

"[Y/N]?" Dr. Crusher asks gently. "Can you hear me?"

You nod. "Yeah." It comes out as barely a whisper. You wince as your throat screams for water. "W-" you try and say. "Wa-"

Dr. Crusher looks over at one of her nurses. "Can you get us some water? And something to help with the throat?" The nurse nods and moves away. Dr. Crusher smiles and says, "It's going to be alright. You're going to feel better soon."

You nod and grab the glass that's handed to you, quickly gulping down what the nurse gives you. She also hands you a throat lozenge, which you quickly pop into your mouth.

"Better?" Dr. Crusher asks.

You nod. "Yes," you say, your voice only cracking slightly now. While your voice is quieter, at least you're talking now. "Much better. Thank you Dr. Crusher."

The doctor smiles. "Please. Call me Beverly."

You smile. "Okay Beverly." You try and lean back against the wall, but you wince. Your body must have tensed up so much your muscles hurt too much to move properly. "Thanks," you say, grateful as she leans you against the wall.

Suddenly, the doors to sickbay slide open and Commander Riker bursts in, panting. "What happened? Is everything alright?" He asks breathlessly, his eyes locking onto your form.

Beverly smiles. "Yes. Everything is okay. I'm glad you could make it Commander."

You look at her confused. "While I'm not complaining, I have to ask why Commander Riker is here…"

She smiles at you and stands up. "You were calling out for him. When you were asleep."

You feel your face heat up as she leaves the room, leaving you and the Commander alone.

He sits down where Beverly was sitting before and places a hand on your knee. "How are you feeling?"

You shrug, but wince as it doesn't come out painlessly. "Sore," you say with a laugh. William laughs along with you.

He reaches out and grabs your hand. "I was worried about you. When they said who it was I didn't know what happened!" William exclaims, his right hand flying out but his left still holding onto yours. His right hand rests again on your clasped hands and he says quietly, "What did happen?"

You look him in the eye and say, determined, "I need to talk to the captain."

You move to get up, but William pushes you back into the sickbay bed. "Whoah whoah whoah. Let's not be too hasty. Do you want to tell me, and I'll tell him?"

You shake your head, wincing at the pain it causes in your neck, and the phantom pains of the headache fall into the forefront of your mind. "No. It's an emergency. I need to tell him."

William sighs and squeezes your hands. "Alright. But he's coming here. You're not going to him." You nod carefully and William touches his combadge. "Commander Riker to Captain Picard. Please come to sickbay." William looks at you and says, serious, "It's an emergency."

You smile, and squeeze William's hands.

A few minutes later, the captain comes in. "Yes, what's the emergency?"

William doesn't even say anything. He just gestures to you. You let out a breath. You've only talked to the captain once, when you first came onto the Enterprise. Usually you talk through Geordi. You look up at the captain and say confidently, carefully, "We have to stop scanning the planet."

"What?" Picard asks confused. "Why?"

"Because that radiation I detected?" you offer. "That's not radiation. At least, not really. The reason it was moving is because it's alive, captain."

"What?" The captain looks dumbfounded.

You sit up more in the sickbay bed. William helps you sit up. "The pain I felt? As it was entering my mind? That's the pain it feels while we're scanning it. The tachyon scans we've been doing have been killing it, captain."

"But-but that's a class M planet. Others will want to come and claim it."

You glare at the captain. "Then find a way to protect it." The captain hesitates, obviously thinking about what you're saying. Your eyes narrow even further and you turn to the computer that's against the wall next to your bed. "Computer? Play footage from engineering, 2200 hours."

The screen lights up and you can clearly see yourself sitting at a computer console, falling asleep in your chair. Ensign Torres comes up behind you, and starts talking to you. It's too quiet to make out what you're saying. You stand up, fall into Ensign Torres' arms, and then all you can hear is your screaming. You look at the captain as he watches, pain and sympathy cross over his features. You just watch him. William squeezes your hands as he watches, tensing up at the sight of you in pain. You remember the pain, as clear as if you were experiencing it now. You tense up as the apology given from the new lifeform rises to the surface as well.

"Computer," Captain Picard says suddenly, just as Beverly comes into frame. You're still screaming. "Stop video." The video stops and the screen goes dark once again. Captain Picard sighs and places a hand on his forehead. Your eyes haven't left the captain. He looks up at you and says quietly, "I'll see what I can do. Number one, I'll see you on the bride in-" He looks between the two of you, then down at your hands. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And he walks away.

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding when the doors to sickbay close behind the captain. You lean forward, exhausted after your display and pleading with the captain. William leans forward and catches you, your head resting on his shoulder. He runs his hands through your hair and says quietly, "That was amazing." You smile against his shoulder, but you don't have the energy to move. "Very convincing." You chuckle and reach your arms out to hug him, but you pull back, letting out a small groan of pain. William chuckles and pulls back, pressing his hands to your shoulders to keep you upright while he slides you down the bed. "Come on. You must be exhausted. I'll see if Dr. Crusher can get you something for the pain." He lays you down on the bed and you smile as your eyes close. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

He gets up to go get Beverly, but by the time they return, you're asleep in your bed.

“[L/N]!” You look up from your personal project you were working on.

It’s your lunch break and you’re tinkering with a new invention, but every time you use it on something, when you turn it off, the force crushes the object inside. It’s not doing what you want it to, and you have to find a way to stop it from collapsing when it’s turned off.

Geordi walks over to you in the hallway outside of engineering. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He asks right as you take a bite of your sandwich.

You hold up a hand, chewing for a few moments as you set down your tools, and you put your device down. You swallow and say, “Sorry.” Geordi holds up a hand as if to say, ‘no worries,’ and you continue. “I’m better. A lot better. Beverly is a true miracle worker.”

Geordi chuckles and says pointedly, “She’s a doctor, not a miracle worker, Lieutenant.” You chuckle along and start gathering up your equipment, popping the last of your lunch into your mouth. You start walking toward the nearest replicator, and Geordi follows along. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you in a while. I’ve been busy.” You nod. You understand how busy the senior officers have been these past few days.

After leaving the planet, with the new radiation lifeform, the Enterprise was called to Starbase 83 to facilitate a discussion between the Klingons and a new race that was discovered on a mining moon. They drilled into the crust of the planetoid where they discovered a series of underground tunnels and caves, that were home to a race called the Hiyattas. They’re an insectoid race, with humanoid bodies, and they’re so new as an intelligent race they barely have 5,000 words to communicate with. In comparison, Federation Standard has over 170,000 words. William has been too busy to see you for the past few days, but occasionally, when he has the time, or the captain orders him to rest, he’ll ask you to join him in Ten Forward, just to see each other, and to catch up. He’s been updating you on the Hiyattans, and you’ve been telling him about engineering.

You place the empty plate on the replicator and press a button that dematerializes the plate. “Anyways, I just wanted to know how you’ve been, being back in engineering after… well after what happened,” he says.

You smile. “I’m fine. Still a little sore, but Beverly told me that’s normal after something like that.” The doors to engineering open and you place the invention and your tools on the table where Ensign Weaver who gets out of their chair and goes back to another station. “Can I ask you a question Commander?”

“Of course,” he says.

You sit down in your chair, and turn to face him. “Why are you so concerned with me? You’re never like this with anyone else. Why me?”

He smiles and says cryptically, “Don’t worry about it lieutenant.” He places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently. “Welcome back lieutenant.”

He walks away and you say, confused, “Lieutenant Junior Grade, sir!” He doesn’t acknowledge you and just leaves engineering. You lean back in your chair, more confused than you have been in a very long time. “What just happened?” you mumble to yourself.

You collapse into your chair in Ten Forward, leaning on the table that William is sitting in front of as well.

“Everything alright?” he asks as your head hits the metal table with a soft thunk. You just groan in response. “Rough day?”

You laugh, though there’s no mirth behind it. “You could say that.” Your voice is muffled by your arms closing around your head on the table.

William reaches out and touches your arm, grabbing it gently, as if to say, ‘hey, relax.’ You move your arms away from your face and sit up, though you’re still slightly slouched. “Hey, talk to me. What happened?”

You sigh. “Everyone’s been so weird today. First!” You sit up more and William grabs your hand, not to calm you or anything, but just because he can. “It was Geordi, asking me how I am and talking to me more about personal things than he ever does. Then it was Lieutenant Worf, who refused to talk to me. I wanted to ask when the away team would be back, but every time I tried to contact him over coms, he would just tell me to talk to him later. I had to ask Ensign Martinez to talk to him for me.” You lean forward more. “And then! Chief O’Brien wouldn’t tell me how long the away team was gone for when I went to see him in transporter room three! I tried to run a diagnostic on the energy output from the transporters, so see if we could cut anything down for greater engine efficiency, but he just shooed me out of the room! Told me he’d do it himself and report back later! I asked Keiko what was going on with him but she wouldn’t even give me a straight answer. She would just mumble something about being busy or tired, and then take care of Molly.” You lean back in your chair with a huff, but your hands are still being held by William’s. “The only one who hasn’t been weird is Data, but he’s already weird. He was the only one to actually talk with me today. Though he kept saying ‘I’m sure you’ll be happy today…’” You shake your head. “It’s just been a weird day.”

William smiles and leans forward, kissing your fingers lightly before encasing your hand in his own. You feel your cheeks heat up and you look away. You’ve been flirty with William, sure, and you talk a lot, but you didn’t think he actually felt anything for you. At least not the same way you feel about him. You were content to remain friends, but this… this feels really good, even if your stomach is doing flips right now. “I can’t wait to see how happy you are.”

You look back at him, your stomach dropping, as well as your shy smile. You groan and drop your head on the table again. “Ugh, not you too!”

He just starts laughing.

You’re in your room the next morning when your combadge beeps at you from the dining table in your quarters. “Captain Picard to Lieutenant Junior Grade [L/N].”

You pick up your combadge and affix it to your uniform before tapping it. “[L/N] here.”

“Will you come to my ready room? I wish to speak to you about something.” You nod, even though the captain can’t see you.

“Aye sir.” Your badge beeps to denote the cutting of your connection to the captain, and you let out a deep breath.

You try and steady your beating heart as you walk out of your room and to the turbolift. You only pass a few people, but you can’t help but feel as though they’re watching you. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you walk into the turbolift and the doors close behind you. “Bridge,” you say and the turbolift starts moving. You’ve only seen the bridge briefly once before when you first stationed on the enterprise. You were in the turbolift when one of the senior officers went up there. You saw it for as long as the doors were open. You didn’t get a good look at it.

You feel your heartbeat rising as the lift rises higher and higher. You take deep breaths to steady yourself. You feel like you’re about to faint. The doors to the bridge finally open, and you barely catch a glance at William before your feet take you past the bridge crew and to the captain’s ready room. They’re definitely all watching you.

You hear Counselor Troi say to someone, probably Commander Riker, before the doors to the Captain's ready room close, "He's definitely nervous."

The doors close behind you, and suddenly, you're alone with the captain. "Ah. Lieutenant. Please, sit down."

You do as you're told, but not before saying, "It's lieutenant junior grade, sir."

He smiles and sits down across from you. "Yes, I've noticed you say that a lot. Is there a reason?" He folds his hands in front of himself.

You shrug. "My father taught me not to take credit for things that aren't yours. Everyone needs a chance to prove themselves, and you shouldn't take that away from them," you explain.

Captain Picard smiles and leans back slightly. "That is a very good insight Lieutenant… Junior Grade," he says after a moment. You smile at him. "Do you know why I've asked you here today?"

"You sound like my principal in highschool," you mumble out. The captain raises an eyebrow at you. "No sir."

He smiles. "I have heard nothing but good things about you from my senior officers. Geordi, Commander Riker, Deanna, even Data's said something positive about you." You don't say anything. You don't know what to say. You wait with baited breath as he continues. "I have continuously heard great things about you. And so I called you here to congratulate you Lieutenant."

"Congratulate me on what sir?" You don't correct him this time.

He smiles at you. "On your promotion. Congratulations Lieutenant."

You stare at him. "I-I don't know what to say Captain. Thank you!" You exclaim.

He smiles. "It's not me. It's your own accomplishments. Now, we really should get back to work. We have a starship to run after all."

You nod, still in shock and stand to leave. When you're about halfway to the door, the captain call to you. "Oh, and [Y/N]?" You turn to look at him. "I want to see you on the bridge now. If you could take more shifts on the bridge crew every once and awhile, that would be preferable." Your shock turns into excitement as you nod. "Dismissed."

You're sitting at the helm, your fingers don't know what to press first. Sure, you've run all types of simulations in star fleet, and have been reading up since your promotion, but the truth is, you don't know what to do. You've forgotten. Your mind blank.

"Lieutenant? Are you alright? Do you need me to plot the course to Starbase 116?" Commander Data asks, his voice softer than normal, as if he's trying not to embarrass you. It's all very human.

You let out a deep breath and shake your head. "No. No Data. I've got it," you say. You reach out, trying to remember which button to push first, when you feel something behind you.

"Push the red one on the right first," Commander Data says low in your ear.

You press the button, and with muscle memory start to lay in the course to Starbase 116. You look up and smile as you see Commander Data nod and go back to the Captain's chair.

This is going to be a long night.

You walk into Ten forward, swaying a little with each step you take. You almost fall into the bar but catch yourself as you walk to the table William is sitting at. You’re still in your uniform form earlier on in the day. You slump into your seat and sigh as you look up at the server that appears next to you.

“Coffee, extra sweet,” you say. William holds up a hand to say he’s good and the server nods and walks away.

“I thought you hated coffee,” William says.

“I do.” You lean back in your chair, your arms falling to your side, almost numb. “But I need to stay awake.”

Riker looks at you, concerned. “Why do you need to stay awake? Do you have a night watch shift?” He asks, a little astounded. You wave him off, blowing a raspberry with your mouth as the server comes back with your coffee. You make a grab for it, but William slides it in front of himself, out of your reach. “No, you don’t get this until you answer me.” You sigh and reach for it, but he just holds your hand. "Why are you drinking coffee?"

You sigh and place your forehead on the table. Your stomach's been swimming all day, and now it's just gotten worse. You haven't eaten anything since breakfast. You shake your head on the table. William reaches out and you feel him lace his fingers into your hair, touching the tips of your ears with his fingers. You sigh. "I've been taking extra night shifts on the bridge because those are the only times I can do them."

William looks at you, concerned. "[Y/N], you're working yourself too hard," he says, quietly.

You shake your head. "I want to do more for the captain, be on the bridge more like he requested, but I can't just give up engineering. It's such a large part of me I can't just throw it out the window!" You exclaim, though that makes your head spin. You wobble slightly as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Whoah…" William sighs and when you open your eyes, you see the same server from before taking your coffee away. "Bu- wa-" you cut yourself off as you reach out towards the server, too tired to actually get up and go after your coffee.

William stands up and walks around to your chair. "Come on. I'm taking you to bed."

"But- but I have to be in the bridge in fourteen minutes! Commander Data is expecting me!" You exclaim as William takes your hands and lifts you up, placing a hand around your waist and throwing your own arm over his shoulders. William presses his combadge and says, "Commander Riker to Data."

"Commander Data here sir," comes the reply.

William starts walking with you, more like dragging you, out of Ten Forward. "Lieutenant [L/N] is unable to come to his shift on the bridge. It's an emergency."

You hear Data acknowledge it, but he adds on at the end, "Is the Lieutenant okay? He's not hurt is he?"

William looks down at you. "He's not hurt."

You can almost imagine Data nodding. "Data out." The comm cuts out.

"I think Data thinks of you as a friend now." You look up at William as he says this, approaching your door now. You live on deck ten, so it always makes it convenient to go to the forward.

You smile. "Good. I consider him a friend too."

The doors to your room open as you approach and William takes you inside. He seats you over to your bed, and you practically throw yourself onto it. You sit up and go to remove your shoes, but William holds up a hand to stop you. You comply, and he removes your shoes for you. He sits down on your bed and you lean over, resting your head on his shoulder. He leans over and kisses your hair lightly. You almost don't feel it in your sleepy haze.

Looking up, you see William's bright blue eyes. They're alight with affection and warmth, and you want that warmth. You want to feel that affection he apparently has for you. You lean up, pressing your lips to his, moving your hands from the bed to his neck. He starts kissing back, slowly but it's something. He moves his hands to your wrists, and pulls away as he moves your hands away from his skin, some of the only exposed skin on him when he's in uniform.

He smiles in the dim light and says softly, "I really want this. Trust me, I do. But not when you're tired."

You nod, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your jaw before getting up. He lets go of your wrists and they fall back to the bed with a soft "thunk". He smiles and kisses your forehead.

"Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow." You nod and scoot up the bed, falling asleep before you can even watch William walk out the doors.

You're sitting in Ten Forward, three days later, your new invention and your tools spread out over one of the tables in Ten Forward. You’re so close to a discovery, to being able to test it, but you have to find a way to not burn out the circuits after every shutdown. You’re hunched over your work and you don’t even notice as someone pulls out the chair and sits down in front of you.

“Still hard at work, huh?”

You jump, looking up into the blue eyes of William, who’s smiling at you. You place a hand over your heart, a decoupler pinned between your palm and your breast. “William! You scared me!”

Even though you’re shocked, you’re laughing with him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so entranced in your work,” he says.

You sigh with an exasperated smile. “I’m so close.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what this is,” he says, pointing towards the invention on the table.

You look up at him, as if to ask, ‘Really?’ but he doesn’t back out of his statement, so you go ahead and explain. “Well, this…” You hold up the metal puck, blue, red, and white wires poke out of the bottom. “…is a personal shielding device. It uses a magnetic resonance created in part by me to cover the body and deflect anything from a phaser blast, to an old earth bullet, to a rock thrown at your head.” William is looking at you with wide eyes. “But-” you say, cutting him off from speaking, “I haven’t figured out how to make it work without the phaser blasts draining the energy from the shield and burning out the internal configuration. Last week I figured out the issue of it crushing the object inside of it when it’s shut off, but it still overloads the power couplings.”

“This is so over my head, but this is a brilliant invention! How did you come up with it?” William asks.

You shrug. “I just thought, ‘Why should ships only have shields?’.”

You grin, and William laughs, leaning back in his chair. You just watch him laugh, his smile so wide you’re surprised his cheeks don’t split to make more room. His eyes are closed, but when you were explaining your technology, you could see adoration in his eyes. As you’re grinning at him while he laughs in his chair, you watch this man you’ve talked to every day for the last few months, and you realize something as his comforting eyes open again.

You are in love with William T. Riker.

“Alright lieutenant! Let’s fire this up!” Geordi says from the other end of Engineering two days later where he’s monitoring the shielding device.

You nod and press the final button needed to remotely turn on the device, even though there’s a switch on the side for whoever needs it, for it to be activated. The light hum of the magnetic resonance is almost impossible to hear next to the massive warp engine. You watch as the light reflects for a moment off the shield as it wraps around the vase Data was willing to give you for the test. The magnetic resonance hasn’t vibrated the vase to pieces yet, so that’s good.

You turn to look behind you, and say, “Commander Data? Fire when ready.”

He nods and holds up the phaser, firing it on the shield. You watch as the shield pulses from the phaser blast, moving and warping, and you watch with baited breath as the vase wobbles slightly, but stabilizes after only a moment.

You let out a breath as Geordi calls out, “Shield holding at 83%!” You have to force yourself to focus on your breathing, because you know you will hold your breath until the experiment is done. “Shields holding at 67%!” You watch as the shield starts flickering, but it’s still steady. “Shield falling to 42%!” The phaser still isn’t getting through, even though the resonance is flickering more and more, but you notice the shifting of the field is done around where the phaser is hitting, but it’s solid where the phaser is hitting. “Shield now at 27%!” The buzzing sound of the shield is now louder than the phaser as it pushes itself harder to protect the fragile vase. “Shield falling to 15%!” Geordi calls out to you and Data. “10%!” You watch as the shield starts falling away from the back, still holding strong against the phaser blast. “5%! 4! 3-2! 1%!” You watch as the shield flickers out for one last moment, before the phaser penetrates the magnetic resonance field, and the phaser strikes the vase, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. The phaser stops before it can do any more damage.

You watch as, even though the vase isn’t there anymore, the shield comes back online, taking the previous shape of the vase, before collapsing, and turning itself off.

Data lowers his arm, the phaser resting at his side. Geordi walks over and stands at your side, placing his hands on his hips as he says to you, “Congratulations Lieutenant. You have created the first and only personal shielding device.”

You just stand in shock, a loose grin on your face.

“Why don’t you join us for poker some time! I’m sure Commander Riker has asked you to join a few times?” Beverly asks as you sit in medbay, getting a cut healed from your rather rigorous exercise while fighting a few holodeck romulans. It’s not your program, lieutenant Worf let you use it for the time being. Your shield was being particularly annoying today and you needed to let off some steam.

You shake your head. “No, no. I don’t play your kind of poker.”

“Seven card stud?” Beverly asks.

You shrug. “I only know how to play one type of poker, so I think I’d be a little outmatched," you say with a light laugh.

"Well, what kind of poker do you play?" Beverly asks. "Maybe we can learn!"

You look up at her and say with a straight face, "Texas Hold 'em."

She looks at you confused. "What?"

"It's a poker game that was popular in the 21st century, but after the nuclear wars, only those in Texas really held onto it. Us Texans love anything with the word 'Texas' in it," you say sardonically.

Beverly laughs as she finishes healing your cut. "Alright. You should be good to go." You smile at her and jump down from the bed, rolling your neck and sighing when you hear the pops it makes. You move to leave, but she stops you with a shout. “Oh lieutenant!” You turn to face her. “Maybe you should steer clear of the holodeck for a little while. Come play poker with us. You can teach us how to play your game, and I’m sure the commander will love to have you there.”

She smiles at you knowingly, and you just smile and nod before leaving sickbay.

“Picard to engineering! Can you get us out of here!” Captain Picard yells over the comms. Because Geordi’s on the bridge, he put you in charge of engineering.

You press your combadge and shout over the general hustle and bustle of engineering, “We’re trying our best captain! The tractor beam from the planet’s interfering with our escape plan! I don’t think we’ll be able to leave unless we can shut down that tractor beam!”

The combadge goes quiet for a few moments and you call out to Barclay to join you at the main engineering consoles situated in the middle of the floor. Your combadge beeps again when Barclay moves to your opposite, continuing his work. “Picard to Mr. [L/N]. I need you on the bridge.”

“Aye,” you say, nodding to Barclay who nods back, and you leave engineering for the bridge. Before you exit, you stop by your station and grab your personal shield, holding onto it as you make your way to the bridge. The ride in the turbolift is silent. No one interrupts. You’re alone.

Until the door to the bridge opens up and all you can hear is shouting. “[Y/N]! Over here!” Geordi calls out to you, waving you over. You move over to Geordi before the doors to the turbolift can close again. “We’re having a hard time shutting down their tractor beam.”

You lean in next to Data to look at the computer monitor. “Have you tried a reverse tachyon beam?”

Data nods. “Yes. They have a force field up. We can not get through.”

You nod and start mumbling to yourself, “And we can’t beam anyone in there-”

“Wait, no I think we can,” Geordi says, typing on the display. “Here.” He points to the monitor, where you see the subspace fluctuation in the shield, a hole not big enough for a phaser blast, but just big enough for a transport.

“Yes, yes. I see,” Data says, before turning to the chaotic bridge. “Captain,” he says, not raising his voice at all. Picard turns, still having been able to hear Data over all the comotion. “I believe we can transport a small away team down into the surface. This is the only way to disable the tractor beam. We have…" Data pauses for a moment and you fill in the rest for him.

"We have twenty four minutes before the warp core shuts down and we're pulled to the surface," you supply.

Picard nods. "Commander, assemble an away team."

Riker nods. "Data, Worf, you're with me."

They go to leave but you stop them. "Sir?" You interrupt the Commander before he leaves. "Sir. I think I should be the one to beam you all down. I've done the calculations and I know I can get you there safely."

Riker looks to captain Picard, who nods. Riker motions for you to follow. "[L/N]. You're with me," Commander Riker says.

You follow them into the turbolift, and down to transporter room one. You walk in and quickly dismiss the ensign on duty. He walks out of the room as you input the exact transporter coordinates.

You look up and everyone's already on the transporter pad. "Commander, one more thing before you go…"

You walk up to him, and reach your hand out, grasping your life's greatest work as you place it in the commander's hand. He looks up at you in sock as you say to him, quietly, "You never know what you'll find down there…"

He looks up at you in shock, and you walk back to the transporter, your fingers over the engagement.

"Lieutenant? Energize," Riker says.

You slide your fingers up the panel, and as you do, the three men start to dematerialize. Soon enough, they're gone, and you wait with baited breath, hoping you do it right.

You feel your heart stop as your combadge beeps and Geordi's voice filters through. "Lieutenant? You did it! Come and join us back on the bridge,"

"Aye sir," you reply.

You wait and watch from the bridge, barely daring to breathe. The bridge has gone silent. It's eerie. The bridge is usually full of life, buttons being pushed, talking from the commanding officer to their officers, and vice versa. Now, you're sitting at OPs, waiting for something, anything to happen.

You don't have to wait long, because soon enough you're flung against the OPs terminal, and you have to cling to it so you don't Tumblr over it.

"What was that?" Picard asks the room.

You start typing on your console but Geordi's faster. "The tractor beam is gone captain. As well as the shield. It seems they were shut down."

You get up from OPs and look back at the captain, going to say something, but you're interrupted. "Away team to Enterprise. Please beam us directly to sickbay. Commander Riker is hurt." It's Data's voice.

Your heart stops beating, and you look to the captain. You don’t even need to say anything. He just nods, but as you get up and walk past him, he places a hand on your arm gently. “See me in my ready room after your shift ends.”

You nod and he lets go, letting you rush down to sickbay. The doors don’t slide open fast enough and you almost slam face first into them. But they do eventually slide apart and you enter, your breathing so fast you’re afraid you may pass out. You spot him, William, lying in one of the sickbay beds against the wall. You push your way through the bustling room and over to William, who grins as he makes eye contact with you. You let out a deep breath and practically throw yourself into the chair next to his bed. He reaches out and you grab his hand.

You feel something fist sized, warm, machinery. “You saved me. You know that?”

You let the shield fall to the ground and lean over, kissing William T. Riker.

You let out a nervous breath, clenching and unclenching your hands in the turbolift as you make your way down to William’s room. You’ve never actually been in his room. You’ve imagined it, what he would have in it. Pictures of family, flowers from Deanna, lots of blues and reds. The turbolift doors open, and you have half a mind to turn around and go right back the way you came, but you shake your head, stepping out of the turbolift onto the senior officer’s crew quarters. You walk down the brightly lit hallway and to the door you remember Beverly telling you was William’s.

You let out a breath, and push the doorbell.

It only takes a few seconds before the doors slide open, and a shocked William is staring back at you. “[Y/N]! What a nice surprise! What are you doing here?”

“Beverly invited me. She wants to learn how to play my poker,” you explain. “I even brought my own cards.” You hold up the pack you’ve used for years. Your lucky deck.

“Oh well, come on in!” William steps aside and you carefully make your way inside, smiling as you see Geordi, Beverly, Worf, and Data all sitting around a circular table, chips layed out in front of each of them. William pulls up a chair for you next to Beverly and himself, as well as some chips for you to use. You sit and place your cards on the table, Data scooping up the old cards.

“What’s the game, [Y/N]?” Beverly asks.

You start to shuffle the deck, almost as well as Data but no one can ever be as good as Data at anything. You stop, placing the cards in front of William to cut as you say, “The game is Texas Hold’em. May the best, win.”

135 notes · View notes

lightsburnbrite · 4 years ago

Text

Things We Do for Love: Part 2

(Third part to Such a Thrill and The Devil is in the Details)

As the months passed, Leon slowly started to form normalcy. His apartment resembled more of a bachelor’s pad as Karina’s personal items were removed. In an effort to get his mind off of things, it wasn’t uncommon for two or three of Leon’s friends to come and stay for weeks at a time and he genuinely appreciated the company but it didn’t replace the fact that Karina was gone. Mathea, never one to miss an opportunity, soon moved herself in and resumed her role as the doting girlfriend.

“Ha! I’ve found her.”

Leon let the basketball rebound off the floor before holding it still. Putting the net up in the living room seemed like both his best and worst idea to date. “What? Found who?”

“Karina.” Sebastian called back out. He wasn’t Leon’s official agent, but he acted in a managerial capacity in addition to being Leon’s close friend. “She’s listed on the website as the Associate Curator of European Art.”

Leon put the ball down and walked over to the sofa where Sebastian was lounging. He stopped short, trying to decide if he would feel better knowing where Karina was or if he would feel worse. “What website?”

“AGO.” Sebastian looked up from the screen at Leon. “Does Marius really not know where she is?”

Leon shook his head. “No. Their parents haven’t come out and said it but he figured they’d cut him off too if he tried to get in touch with her. What does AGO stand for?”

“Art Gallery of Ontario.” He turned his laptop towards Leon. “As in Ca-na-da, eh?”

Leon smirked at Sebastian’s over pronunciation but he couldn’t help but smile at Karina’s picture placed alongside her bio. She looked essentially the same, her hair might have been a bit longer and she had it straightened in this picture, but she looked genuinely happy. Leon knew that Karina had a “professional smile” that she used to counteract her natural inclination to frown but the smile she wore in her picture proved her to be happy and proud of this new position.

“Oh damn,”

Leon turned back to Sebastian who was on his phone now. “What now?”

“Looks like she’s got a new…” Sebastian hesitated. “Well, have a look.”

Sebastian had pulled facebook up on his phone but he didn’t know the person who’s profile it was. It was a picture of a group of six people at what looked to be an outdoor wedding reception, the bride and groom were placed in the middle with two people on either side. Karina stood to the very right, tucked neatly against the side of man who looked to be about the same age, her hand resting on his chest while his was placed low on her hip. Again, Karina smiled brightly while the man had more of a smirk and that instantly put Leon off him. He had been hoping maybe she was just the man’s plus one as a favor but then he read the caption and his heart sank.

Happy Siblings Day to these two weirdos. Loved having everyone together again at my wedding. Loved it even more that we finally got to meet baby brother’s new girlfriend who is the sweetest!

“What’s his name?” Leon looked over to Sebastian again. “Can you tell?”

Sebastian took his phone back and shrugged. “Look at the tagged names. Obviously we know Karina’s and if they are siblings then look for last names that are the same. Here we go…Cosmo is your guy. Or, I guess it’s more like her guy. Heh. What the fuck kind of name is Cosmo.”

Leon groaned but curiosity eventually got the better of him. At various points throughout the day, he was looking through multiple forms of social media belonging to a floppy haired hipster that had somehow caught Karina’s eye. He was mainly active on instagram, posting random landscapes and other seemingly artistic compositions. Leon was relieved that he didn’t see any pictures of Karina on there but when he came across a few pictures of Elsa, that was somehow worse. It had now become a serious relationship in his mind because Karina had allowed her beloved dog around this man.

Karina had effectively vanished from the face of the Earth in the 14 months since she left Leon. At first, Leon thought she had just blocked him but when she ‘liked’ one of his posts about a charity endeavor he and Joshua were working on, Leon realized she had just been silent. That initial ‘like’ broke the seal, it seemed, and just like that, she became active again. There were a few selfies and a few more pictures of Elsa but then came the pictures of Elsa and the new boyfriend. It wasn’t a blatantly obvious picture of the two of them, but he recognized the fragment of a roman numeral tattoo he had on his arm from other pictures.

While laying in bed one night, Leon was scrolling through pictures. Mathea moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, um..” Leon cleared his throat and thought of how he could explain that he was essentially stalking the new love interest of his estranged wife. “Karina has a new boyfriend.”

Mathea took his phone and looked at pictures of the two of them and sneered. “He’s got a big nose. Whatever, you’re hotter.”

It made Leon feel at least a bit better to hear her say that, but there was now way Mathea could be objective. He had decided to give Karina a call and see if she would actually answer. Karina had donated a sizable amount to his charity and calling to say thank you seemed to be a good reason. To his surprise, she answered.

“Hi Leon, what’s up?”

He instantly smiled. “Hey, Maus. I, uh, wanted to say thank you for your donation. That was really generous of you.”

“Of course.” She held the phone away and coughed. “You and Joshua are doing great things, I’m happy to help.”

“Right…” He nodded even though she wouldn’t be able to see him. He wanted to say it was good to hear her voice, that he was happy she was ok and hoped she was doing well but all of a sudden, the words came before he had the chance to stop himself. “Mathea found your wedding dress the other day. I guess I could ship it to you?”

“Oh, um, honestly, I don’t want it back. You can do what you want with it.” She hesitated. “Listen, Leon, I was thinking it’s time that we finalize things. We’re kinda in limbo right now and I think we both just need to move on. I’m going to be in Munich next week, would you be able to meet with our lawyers?”

Leon let out a sigh. She was right, but it still hurt him to hear it. “Um, yeah. We can do that.”

They sat in a meeting room around a circular table and had an unsurprisingly civil conversation.

“I see that you maintained separate accounts so that makes the division of assets somewhat more straightforward.” Leon’s lawyer shuffled some papers before addressing Karina specifically. “Will you be petitioning for spousal support, Ms. Müller?”

Karina shook her head. “No. I’m not asking for anything, I just want this to be finalized so we can move on.”

His lawyer nodded. “And you are fine with returning the ring and vacating the residence?”

“My client has already returned the ring and has maintained a residence in Toronto for the past year.” Karina’s lawyer interjected now. “We are mainly concerned with making sure that your client will not be trying to get anything from Ms. Müller.”

“I see there is a dog, was the animal obtained together-”

“Elsa belongs to Karina. I’m not contesting that.” Leon spoke up. “Any piece of artwork too, it’s all hers.”

“Ok,” Karina’s lawyer responded. “Both parties agree to part with what they entered the marriage with. Is this correct?”

“I don’t know…I guess i just feel like…” Leon sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel like we’re rushing things along.”

Karina sat perfectly still in the chair next to him, straight as a pin. “Leon, we’ve been separated for over a year, it’s time for us to move on.”

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Leon sighed again and tried to wrap his mind around how their relationship had progressed to this point. “Alright. What do you need me to sign?”

Once the papers were signed and notarized, their lawyers shook hands and departed leaving Leon and Karina to sit in silence.

“Do, um…” Leon was getting frustrated with how hesitant he was feeling. “Would you want to get dinner tonight?”

Karina opened her mouth before frowning slightly. “Leon, that sounds very nice but I’m not sure if that’s the best idea.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s just this feels like a shitty way to close things.” He shrugged. “I thought this would be an ok way to make it up to you.”

She started to say that there was no need to make anything up to her, she held no ill will towards him but ultimately she thought better of it and simply nodded. Karina would have rather done anything else than to sit down to dinner with him but considered it one last good faith effort before moving on completely.

Leon set the reservations at the restaurant of the Charles hotel where Karina was staying. He had done so out of convenience for Karina, she knew that, but she also knew he had probably forgotten the time when they sat in the same restaurant and she confessed that she was hopelessly in love with him.

With a sigh, she pulled a simple black shirt dress from the closet and made sure it hadn’t gotten too wrinkled in travel. After deciding that her hair and makeup were fine, Karina checked at the front desk but was shown to the table despite Leon having not arrived yet.

She glanced over the menu but didn’t see anything that really jumped out at her so she let her eyes wander around the restaurant. Karina looked up towards the entrance just in time to see Leon holding the door open for Mathea who was wearing the same dress Karina wore to their wedding. Seeing the two of them walk in together caused Karina’s stomach to plummet to the floor. She saw a server pass and she held up one finger to flag him down. “I’m sorry, could I get a double vodka soda with a slice of lemon, please? Thanks.”

She stood as they were ushered to the table, avoiding any sort of eye contact as they sat down.

Leon smiled and placed a hand on her forearm. “You look great, Mausi.”

Karina smiled but more out of a desire to be polite. Mathea being there to begin with put her on edge, but the display of affection from Leon only made it worse.

Mathea didn’t pass up the opportunity to look her over from head to toe, ending her gaze with a smirk. “Do you ever wear anything with color?”

“Rarely.” Leon had to stop himself from laughing as Karina delivered the line deadpan.

Her expression turning to a sneer, Mathea would not let Karina get away with besting her. “You look like a nun only there’s the problem of your devil worship-”

“Mathea, enough.” Leon cut in now, attempting to keep a somewhat civil conversation.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Mathea.” Karina offered a kind but entirely forced smile. “A bit unexpected if I do say so, especially in that dress.”

Mathea grinned. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? I needed to have it taken in, I was practically swimming in it before!”

Leon immediately ducked his head. “Sorry, I thought you’d be bringing…sorry.”

“Bringing who?” She pressed him, curious as to who Leon would have had in mind.

He inhaled deeply. “I thought your boyfriend would have come with you.”

“Nope. Just me.” Karina forced a smile. “No boyfriend.”

“Hmm.” Mathea smiled more smugly now. “That’s a shame. Leon and I just got back from Ibiza, we had a great time together with Marius.”

“Lovely.” Karina nodded slightly, attempting not to bristle at the mention of her brother. “Glad you had fun.”

Leon went on about various events and goings on, seemingly oblivious to Mathea’s desire to agitate Karina and Karina’s subsequent distress.

“You know,” Mathea looked over to Leon and smiled fondly. “I’ve always wanted to see what you call ‘the big house’. I’ve always wondered of it really was that big.”

Leon hesitated, knowing that would be a sore spot. “No, that’s not really-”

“It's being rented, actually,” Karina hadn’t intended it to be a jab but the shocked look plastered on Mathea’s face was incredible satisfying. “About eight months ago.”

Mathea shook her head. “No, you had no right to do that without consulting us. What if we wanted to use it? I thought it would make a nice setting for a wedding.”

“A wedding…” She spoke softly and did her best not to show her irritation that Mathea was even part of this discussion. “It's my house, my estate. I discussed my thoughts with Olga and she was ready to move on as well. Apparently Marwin told her that he didn’t want me to feel weighed down by the house and should sell it if I wanted to. I thought about that but I didn't want to part with it because of my memories with Marwin there.”

It wasn't intentional, but Karina enjoyed watching Leon flinch when she mentioned wanting to hold on to her memories of Strohmann.

“But you were married. Leon should have gotten half.” Mathea was practically scowling now. “Or spousal support.”

Leon held his hands up. “No. There is no reason for me to ask anything of Karina just because she’s worth more than I am. I’m not going to be petty or vindictive because you want a bigger place to live.”

The waiter had arrived with Karina’s drink and prepared to take their orders as well when she stopped him. “Thank you, but I think I’m actually just going to take this to my room. If you could charge their meal to my room as well?”

Slightly dumbfounded, the waiter nodded as Karina stood and raised her glass to Mathea and Leon. “Enjoy.”

Back in her room, Karina drained her glass quickly. The alcohol hit her hard on an empty stomach but it wasn’t enough to numb her yet. She grabbed the room service menu and ordered a dinner she would appreciate much more than anything at Sofia’s and a bottle of Prosecco to wash it down with.

Leon was visibly sullen for the rest of the evening which only frustrated Mathea.

“What are you so pissed about?” Mathea sat in the passenger seat and sulked.

It took Leon a minute to respond. “You could have pretended to be nice.”

“Sorry? I just figured we’re never going to like each other and we’re never going to see her again so why bother?” She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh. “Besides, we can actually talk about getting married now.”

Leon didn’t respond. He figured it would be better to wait to tell her that he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get married again.

#Leon Goretzka #things we do for love

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solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Promise Me Forever [3]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 3/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

The rest of the day passes with more ease than Lir could have hoped for. Dante gets her set up on the computer, a marvel of technology she never truly got to use before, creating an account for her and walking her through how to use the search engine, where to find the games that were pre-installed. The fact that she has access to solitaire, even if it's digital, delights her, and she wastes a few hours playing through it. Then she finds a news site and reads through the articles on the first page; a lady, her mother said, should know what is going on in the world in order to make conversation with her husband.

Dante, for his part, doesn't seem to do as much work as she'd thought. There are a few phone calls that he answers tersely, but none that make him move from behind the desk, where he dozes. Lir tries not to look too closely at the magazine over his face. The woman on the cover is far more curvaceous than she could ever be, and she wonders, more than once, if that's the sort of thing he prefers.

She's just gotten up to see what she can make them for dinner when the door to the shop opens. A young man enters, and the similarities between him and Dante are striking enough that Lir can only stare as he crosses the room towards her. "Is this her?" he asks.

Dante rocks up. "Nero? The hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, you're the one who called me," Nero retorts. "You scared Kyrie half to death with that warning of yours, so I wanted to come and see for myself what the fuss was about." His piercing gaze shifts back to Lir. "She doesn't seem so dangerous."

"Dante?" Lir's eyes go wide as he strides over, and the way he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at her gives her deja vu.

The boy narrows his eyes as he scowls. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Okay, lay off," Dante calls over.

She shrinks back towards the wall as he rolls his neck. "Start talking, lady, or—"

"Hey!" They both turn to see Dante leaning forward in his chair, a scowl on his face. "I said lay off."

"No, you said there was a woman here who was trying to kill you." The young man flings out his arm as he turns and scoffs. "I'm here to help!"

"Some help," Dante laughs. "You are about twelve hours too late."

"Yeah, well I spent all night behind a dumpster looking for a pack of demonic squirrels." He looks around with a frown. "Did you clean?"

"No." Dante nods to her. "She did. Her name, by the way, is Lir, and she's not going to kill anyone as far as I know. Though I might if you don't back up."

It doesn't sound entirely genuine, but Nero does take a few steps away, though he continues to eye her distrustfully. "Where'd she come from?"

"Somewhere up north."

"Why's she here?"

Dante glances at her as he says, "Personal business."

Nero points at him, obviously exasperated. "Listen, you. Kyrie was in tears when I got home, she was so worried about you. If you got her that fuckin' worked up over nothing, I'm gonna come over there and shove my fist up your—"

"Nero? Was that your name?" Lir interrupts, quickly standing.

Her heart is pounding when the young man turns and frowns at her. But if he is threatening Dante, she should help somehow, so she holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lir."

He regards her suspiciously before shaking her hand. "Yeah, I'm Nero. Dante's a friend of mine." He puts his hands on his hips, and again the similarity between the two is striking. "So what's your personal business?"

"I'm here to marry Dante."

Before she can continue, Nero bursts out laughing, leaning over to brace himself on his knees to keep from falling over. "Dante! Oh my fuck, you ordered a bride? Are you insane?" He leans back with another round of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. "Damn man, if you were that desperate I could have set you up with one of Kyrie's friends or something."

"I didn't order her," Dante sighs. "She's . . . It's sort of an arranged marriage thing."

"Wait, what?" Nero looks at her, and she nods. "Shit. Well, I feel sorry for you, Lir. This guy might be one of the best in the business, but he's never had any luck with the ladies."

"So I've heard." She glances between them again, noting the light hair, the strong jaw, the similar stance. "How do you two know each other again?"

"We met in Fortuna," Dante says. "I was on a job to deal with a cult, Nero worked for said cult. Wound up going against them when he realized what they had planned, but it's not like he knew they were bastards."

Nero gives a shrug. "I thought he was evil at first. Tried to kill him a couple of times."

"Never came close to it," Dante interjects, and Nero flips him off.

"Oh, I see." Lir studies them closely. "It's only . . . Well, you look so similar that I thought you might be related."

Nero scoffs loudly as Dante leans against his desk. "This guy? Yeah I don't think so." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'd put a fucking bullet in my head if—"

"Okay, watch the language." Lir swallows her chuckle as Nero scowls at him defiantly. "You see? Everything is fine. You should head home."

"Yeah." But he's looking at her now, not Dante. "If you ever need to get away from this jackass for a while, give me a call. Kyrie would love the company. Hope you don't mind kids, though. We've got a couple. She runs an orphanage." There's more than a hint of pride in his voice, and it makes her smile.

"I'd love to visit, as long as Dante doesn't mind."

It's the right response by what she's been taught, but the way the two men glance at each other makes her feel that maybe it was the wrong thing to say. "Right," Nero says. "Well, be seeing you."

"Tell Kyrie I'm sorry for scarin' her," Dante calls after him. The door closes, and he sighs and settles back into his chair. "Kid's a pain," he says to Lir, "but his heart's in the right place."

"He's, um . . . interesting." She glances at Dante, who has gone back to his magazine. "You met him in Fortuna?"

"Yup."

Dante turns the page as she settles on the couch, frowning. "I read about Fortuna. That was last year, right? They had a cult dedicated to Sparda, your father."

"Yup."

She leans forward, brows raised expectantly, and when Dante doesn't look up she sighs loudly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't you think it's strange that there is a city founded on the demon Sparda, and a boy there exactly like you?" Dante looks up finally, but she rambles on, "They had many of his artifacts, right? Maybe Sparda isn't dead. He could have been living there, and there might be evidence there that proves what I've been saying. Maybe we can find him! And if we find him, then maybe . . ." She looks at him with wide eyes, the wheels turning in her head with the possibilities. "Perhaps you're not the son of Sparda I'm looking for."

His expression goes so cold that she instinctively steps back. It's as though all the progress she'd made in the last twenty-four hours has disappeared, leaving them back in the mire of mistrust they'd started in. "He's been dead for almost forty years," Dante tells her, "and the only sons he had were yours truly and Vergil, who's been dead for twenty."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. Lir knows that she's supposed to soothe him somehow, but, because she is the cause of his ire, she has no idea what to do. "I only meant that maybe you would be free from dealing with me. I wasn't trying to—"

"And Nero," Dante continues, speaking sharply over her, "has been through enough shit in his life without you going and causing more of it for him because you think you have to bed one of Sparda's bloodline to be worth something."

Tears rise very suddenly, humiliation flooding through her. "I'm sorry," she whispers, but Dante has already returned to his magazine as if nothing had happened.

She blinks rapidly, then turns and moves quickly through the building, hurrying up the stairs and to her room. Lir keeps herself from slamming the door, closing it firmly and moving to sit heavily on the bed, breathing slowly in and out to keep herself from crying.

After several minutes, she wipes her eyes and smooths her hands down her shirt. "I'll make it up to him," she says out loud, standing on shaky legs. Then Lir heads to the bathroom, getting to work scrubbing it from top to bottom, pouring her mixed up emotions into making the marble sparkle.

She is elbow deep in some unpacked boxes in his bedroom when Dante comes to find her. "Hey, Lir, about what I said—"

Lir looks up to see him looking around the room with a grin. "Hey, it looks great in here!"

She opens her mouth to respond before closing it, not sure what she should say to him, or if it even matters that she replies. He moves over and kneels next to her, reaching into the box to pull out a baseball mitt. "Huh," he mumbles, then sets it back inside. "Find anything interesting?"

"I've only just started," she says quietly.

"Right." His fingers drum on his thigh. "I'm sorry. I know I was a bastard to you, and you didn't deserve that. But Lir, you . . . I mean, do you want to just marry me? Is that it for you?"

Lir freezes. The question is one she has never heard before, and she realizes she has never even considered it before. "It's hard for me to answer that," she replies slowly. "If I don't marry you, then what am I going to do?"

Dante shrugs. "You were talking about getting a job. You could do that. What do you want to do?"

She looks away, heat rising up her neck and burning her ears. The fact that she doesn't have an answer is humiliating, and she turns back to the box so Dante can't see her blush. "I'll have to think about that," she murmurs.

"Hey, why don't you give that a rest for a bit?" Lir glances out the side of her eye to see him tilting to the side, trying to catch her attention. "I'll take you out to eat. There's a good diner nearby."

"That's okay." She stands and clears her throat, trying to look composed. "I can make something, it's not a problem."

"Nah. You've done a ton already. Unless . . ." Lir looks up to see him giving her a teasing smile. "You don't want to go to dinner with me."

"I don't understand." He cocks his head, reminding her of the large hound who'd slept in the gardens and kept the foxes away from the hens. "Doing something like that is considered a date, is it not? A romantic gesture? Why would you ask me to go with you if you have no interest in me?"

Dante pauses, his brows furrowed. "It can be, I guess. But it's also a friendly thing. Or you can think of it as a reward. Shop looks better than it has in years, you've made two of the best meals I've ever had. Why wouldn't I want to pay you back?"

"Taking care of you is its own reward," she replies.

"Lir . . ."

"No, I mean it!" She tucks her hair behind her ear. "You seemed happy, and that was nice. I liked making you happy. I just keep . . . messing that up, and I'm sorry."

Dante gives her a smile, then nudges her with his elbow. "Go clean up. Meet you at the front door in five."

He turns and heads into the washroom, his shouts over how clean it is making her giggle. Lir heads back to her room, using the guest bath to wash her face and hands before running a comb through her hair and changing her shirt into a short-sleeved blouse. After a brief debate she dusts some mascara on her eyelashes and applies a bit of lip balm before heading downstairs to meet him exactly five minutes later.

The sight of him renders her speechless. Breathless, too, if she feels like being a bit more cliche, but he looks so good and it's the first time she's really taken him in as a whole since she arrived. The dark denim of his trousers clings to his thick thighs and firm backside almost like a second skin, just loose enough to avoid being considered indecent, and she quickly lifts her eyes up to his chest when she notices the hinted bulge between his legs. But that's no better for her, as the button-down he's wearing shows off his broad shoulders and strong arms, and his hair is loosely gathered at the nape of his neck, highlighting his soft lips and straight nose.

Dante is, in a word, devastating.

Her skin feels too tight and too hot when he grins at her. "You look nice," he says.

"Do I?"

Her voice comes out like a weird half-whisper, and he nods. "Yup. Like a normal person."

That isn't what she had expected, but he is sliding on his leather coat and pressing his hand to her back, leading her to the door. "Okay if we walk? It's only two blocks."

"Yeah, it's fine." Dante doesn't offer his arm and she doesn't ask, so they stroll together side by side. Lir takes the chance to look around, trying to familiarize herself with the buildings and streets. Everything seems so on top of everything else, and the paved sidewalks offer little greenery as she is used to seeing, but Lir smiles to herself as she takes it all in. The slower rural life never seemed to really suit her, and she enjoys the energy from the city around them as she follows Dante to the diner.

"You ever been to one of these?" he asks, breaking her from her thoughts. Lir shakes her head, and the smile that lights up his face only makes him more handsome. Her mouth goes dry as she studies his lips, wondering if they're anywhere near as supple as they look, how they'd feel on hers, on her throat, at her breast. "You'll love it. A waitress brings you a menu, and you pick what you want to eat. Cheap, delicious, and sure to fill you up."

Like you probably would, she almost says, but merely nods, blushing furiously. "It sounds strange," she says. "Are the waitresses paid?"

"Yeah, but not a lot. But they get tips." He opens the door for them and leads them to a booth, taking opposite sides. It is only half filled, and Lir looks around curiously, watching the waitresses move between the tables. She can see into the kitchen in the back over the counter, and the place is filled with a rich mixture of delicious smells.

A woman comes over and hands them two large menus. "Look at you! Brought a girl this time, hm?" She winks at Dante who smiles back, and the waitress pinches his cheek. "Cutie. Want your usual?"

"You know it." He leans against the seat, slinging his arm over the top of it. "Cindy, this is Lir. She's staying with me for a few days. Lir, this is Cindy. I told you about her yesterday."

Lir nods, murmuring a polite greeting. The waitress, Cindy, is tall, with an hourglass figure that makes her a bit self-conscious. Of course all the women he knows would be gorgeous, she thinks, and the fact that she'd dressed up a bit makes her feel ridiculous now. "Hey, darling," Cindy greets her. "You need a minute to look over the menu?"

"Please," she replies softly.

"Sure thing! I'll get you some water. Just give me a shout whenever you're ready!"

Cindy heads behind the counter and Lir, her appetite gone, studies the menu, looking for something light she can pick at so as to not offend Dante. Is this what it is to be jealous? Why is it bothering her now, and not before? She's debating between a Caesar and a garden salad when Dante clears his throat. "You alright?"

"Yes."

She hears him shift. "You sure?"

"Please," she whispers. "Please, don't ask me. I don't want to make a fool of myself."

"Uh . . . okay. What are you thinking?"

That this was a mistake, she thinks, but Lir clears her throat. "A salad."

"No way. Get a cheeseburger. They are the best here."

Lir glances over the top of the menu. His expression is charming, and she closes the menu and sets it down. "Okay. Cheeseburger it is."

He smiles at her a bit warily. Is he afraid that she's going to burst into tears in the middle of the diner? Cindy returns, and they order, and when their food arrives Lir can only stare, half in awe and half in horror, at the monstrous burger, mountain of fries, and giant sundae placed in front of Dante. He sets in on it, wolfing it down as she carefully works through her own plate; it's greasier than anything she's ever eaten before, cheese dripping from the patty, and the fries are crisp and salted.

It's delicious.

Dante pays when they've finished, stretching his arms over his head with a hearty belch that has her side-eyeing him. Then, with a playful farewell to Cindy and a hefty tip, he offers Lir his hand and helps her up, letting her go as they leave the diner. Being next to him now feels comfortable, if still uncertain, and they say very little on the walk back towards the Devil May Cry.

"I gotta ask you something," Dante says.

She looks up curiously. "Of course."

"You seemed, uh . . ." He rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know how to put this. Like you've never seen a burger before? I know you are from the boonies or whatever, but . . ." He gives her a side eye that has her blushing. "I mean you were impressed with that old computer in the shop and that thing is almost as old as I am!"

Despite the embarrassment from his assessment, Lir giggles. "I grew up . . . I guess sheltered is the right word. My family is part of a group that heads our community, and as the direct descendants of Ler, there was even more pressure, all eyes watching. As a daughter of the family, I was expected to wait for the son of Sparda." She chuckles at the look he gives her. "I know, it seems strange, doesn't it?"

Dante shrugs. "Doesn't sound too off from the Order in Fortuna. It's just odd to hear when people treat Sparda like he was some big deal."

Lir looks at him in shock. "Sparda is a big deal! He delivered humanity from the demons! And now you carry on his work."

She smiles at him, but he looks unconvinced. "You're starting to remind me of Vergil."

"Vergil?" Lir struggles to recall where she's heard the name before. "That was your brother's name, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. He was obsessed with gaining our father's power and got a lot of people killed doin' it. Then he wound up serving Mundus until . . . Well, there probably wasn't much of him left by then."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

Lir places a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently, and Dante shrugs. "Long time ago," he says. "It's just still funny to me to hear people making a big deal about Sparda. To me he was just . . . my dad, I guess."

She thinks of her own father, his warm smile and big bear hugs, the little gifts he would give them of candy and trinkets, the way he would sing loudly when he indulged too much and laugh at her mother's tutting. Could it be possible that the great knight Sparda, deliverer of humanity and savior of the world, drank too much and embarrassed his wife with his singing?

"Is there anything you want to do?" Dante asks, pulling her from her thoughts. "While you're staying in the city, I mean. Something you want to do tomorrow?"

"Could we . . ." Hesitating, she comes to a stop, and he turns after a few steps to give her a curious look. "Could we go to the aquarium? I read online that there's one not far from your home, and I . . . I'm sorry, it's a silly request."

Dante makes a noise that might be a cough. "Nah, nah, it's . . . Nothing wrong with wanting to see it. Sure. We can go."

"Really?" Lir claps her hands excitedly, then reaches out to take his arm. "I've always wanted to see one! I've only seen pictures."

Dante barks out a laugh as they cross the street, but he doesn't comment on Lir holding onto his arm. "You lived by the water and yet never saw a fish?"

"I've seen fish. But not ocean creatures." She sighs and puts her head on his arm, thinking to herself as they walk. "Even if I do go back home, it'll be worth it to see some jellyfish."

"Would all that really happen to you?" he asks, his tone serious. "Taking your tongue or whatever?"

Lir straightens, suddenly aware of how close they are. She lets go of his arm but he moves closer, so they walk elbow to elbow. "I don't know, honestly," she says, laughing nervously. "I'm the first one to meet a son of Sparda. Not really a precedent."

"I see." He turns them down a corner, and then stops, leaving her to turn curiously. "What I don't see is where we are."

Lir looks around, frowning. "We're lost?"

"Not exactly. I thought we'd take the long way, but . . . oh wait! There's Front Street. Come on."

Dante drapes an arm over her shoulders, tucking her neatly to his side. The warmth of him makes her flush, as does the intimate nature of the act, but the blooming hope that maybe this means good things for them is crushed when he leans down to whisper into her hair, "On my mark, find a place to hide yourself. Something's been followin' us for the last couple of blocks, and it's gonna get messy."

"Demons?"

"Probably," he agrees. He gives her a squeeze before releasing her, pushing her forward with a hand at her back. "Go."

Lir takes two steps forward. Then she feels it, something dark and dangerous that pulls on her lungs and stomach before dousing her like a bucket of cold water. She turns, afraid to look but unable to stop, and watches as Dante reaches under his coat and pulls two revolvers out. Beyond him, in the shadows, emerges three creatures the likes of which she has never seen. They look like bugs: huge, overgrown bumblebees, with stingers on the end of their lumpy bodies and claws that reach outward.

"Go screw off," Dante says.

The click as he pulls the hammer makes Lir jump. Run! she yells at herself, but before she can gunfire erupts. The flash from the barrel is bright on the dark street, the lampposts somehow out and bathing them in darkness. One of the creatures screams as it is hit, another advancing with a swipe that Dante ducks and avoids easily.

She stands frozen as she watches him fight, firing off shots that connect each time and leave the demons howling and spraying dark blood. It is a horrible sight, something out of a nightmare, but Dante seems almost unbothered. He seems to barely break a sweat as he delivers a kick to one, using the lid of a trash can to smash into another, and by the time he has eliminated all three, Lir's heart is pounding in excitement.

Dante flips the back of his coat up with a chuckle, replacing the guns before turning around. He catches sight of her gaping and frowns deeply. "Didn't I tell you to hide?"

"You . . ." Her voice is too strangled to work properly, but there's so much she wants to say in that moment. Thank you for protecting me, you really are the son of Sparda, where did you learn to fight, did you recognize them, the list expands with every second that crawls by until, fed up with her own inability to speak, Lir darts forward and flings her arms around his waist, sending him stumbling a step.

He gives a curse as he catches her. Lir takes a few steadying breaths as the adrenaline pulses in her veins. "You were amazing," she breathes, looking up at his startled expression. "The way you handled them so easily! Your skill is incredible!"

"What? Nah." Dante eases her back, but Lir keeps hold of his jacket as he rubs his cheek sheepishly. "They were nothing."

"No! No, you were . . ." Her voice fades away as she looks at him almost dreamily. "Just like the great knight Sparda. You are a hope for humanity."

He opens his mouth. Closes it. It looks, to her, as though he is trying to figure out what to say, and her suspicions are confirmed when he clears his throat. "Look. I know you were raised to . . . Well, I don't know that you worshipped him, but to at least respect him, but you gotta . . . Can you relax with the hope for humanity stuff?"

"Oh." She lets her hands fall away. "Of course. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't realize that it was making you uncomfortable. I'll refrain from it from now on."

"I mean, this is the guy who I watched nearly set a house on fire trying to make burgers, y'know? He was never a hero to me." He scratches the back of his neck. "Just . . . strange. That's all."

Lir nods, and they stand there for a moment, not making eye contact. Finally she says, "You were very good though. Thank you for doing that."

"Yeah. It's my job, right?" Dante huffs out an awkward laugh before jerking his chin. "Come on, we're only a couple of blocks from home."

Home? Lir doesn't comment as she follows him, but she doesn't take his arm again either. They don't speak again until they are back at the Devil May Cry, and the two once again stand awkwardly in the foyer, Lir's eyes down as she watches him shuffle his feet.

It's Dante who breaks the silence with a sigh. "I keep saying the wrong things, huh?"

"What?" Her gaze snaps to his face.

"I keep forgetting that people out there only know about the legend. Makes sense that you'd say those things about him. I only meant . . ." Dante tilts his head back. "Ah, hell, I'm no good at this."

"Will you tell me about him?" Lir asks. "What he was really like?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Dante says. "It's getting late."

Lir nods, feeling more than a little disappointed. "You're right."

"We should be hearing from Lady tomorrow," he offers.

It should be good news, but it feels heavy. The sooner Lady confirms her story, the sooner Lir will have to move on. "Yeah," she replies. "I'll head upstairs then."

Dante doesn't say anything, so she turns and moves to the steps. "Goodnight," he calls to her when she reaches the bottom.

Lir turns around hopefully, but he's at his desk, back turned as he looks through the mail. "Goodnight," she murmurs back before heading up the steps.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dmc oc #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #myfic #collab #promise me forever #pmf

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makiema · 5 years ago

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Zeke and Eren : Contrasts

With the events of SnK 120, it seems like the Jaeger brothers dynamic will largely make way for whatever the endgame Isayama has in mind. In this Chapter we see how much Zeke and Eren contradict each other. Their different upbringings are directly accountable for their difference in approaching the problem of the Eldians. However, there's more to this. Whatever the brothers stand for, whatever they desire and whatever their significance in the narrative- everything is in contrast. So, this is just an analysis on their contradictory personalities and ideologies and how it led to the surfacing of two polar opposite conclusions regarding the fate of the Eldians.

• Eren stands for love. As is evident from chapter 120, Eren was a dearly loved child. Carla had earliersaid "he's already special because he is born into the world". Zeke said, "looks like the second child was loved". Grisha loved Eren to the point where he was even ready to forget his duty as a Restorationist.

But, let's look at Zeke's past. Was he loved? NO. His parents only ever burdened him, and even though he refers to Xavier as his father-figure, all that Xaver did was impose his own nihilism on Zeke. That was not love, that was just the making of another war criminal. Zeke and Dina hated the Marleyans and Xaver hated the whole world. So basically Zeke is someone who grew up learning hate.

• Eren stands for life and hope. When I say, Eren stands for life I mean how much he values life. He'd never support a plan that means ending all Eldians because he was born into the world and therefore values the process of birth and life above all else.

Also, I believe this is why he was placed in front of the Coordinate, that is basically all the lives of the Eldians [Paths] connected together. The Coordinate therefore directly alludes to the Tree of Life in Norse mythology, which signifies the cycle of life.

As long as there is life there is hope. Throughoutut the series, Eren is stated to be the "hope of mankind" and he carries out whatever is requisite of him believing that. Eren, when he inherited Grisha's memories, heard Eren Kruger talking of the cycle of hatred and how he hoped for the future generation to learn love, breaking the cycle. Eren's hope for the future is further confirmed in SnK 120 with his disapprobation of Zeke's plans.

Now, coming to Zeke, he stands for death and despair. He was directly responsible for wiping off almost the entirety of the Survey Corps. His spinal fluid is stated to be responsible for wiping out entire villages overnight. We see that happening in Ragako. Even Levi states how Zeke doesn't care for life. Zeke's disapproval of the importance of birth and life can be traced back to his grooming by Xaver. All that this questionable father-figure taught Zeke was how trivial and unworthy life is. The whole idea of euthanisation was ingrained into Zeke as perfectly normal. How then can we expect him to know the importance of life? Also, Zeke has been exposed to despair since the very beginning given his parent's negligence towards him, his inability to keep up with the others during training, and most importantly, Xaver's horrifying nihilism.

No wonder his whole attitude towards life is one of despair. Zeke thinks Eldians and the whole world will always be at despair too and only death can give them relief. Zeke completely negates any hope for the future to the extent where he doesn't even want Eldians to have a future. Unlike Eren, the ideas of freedom, love and hope are alien to Zeke who grew up in a repressive, pessimistic environment where he is skeptical about any future that is not blighted by war.

• Eren stands for free will. He was groomed by Levi in a way that he has the freedom to follow his own will. In Eren's formative years, he was always advised by Levi to make decisions on his own and to trust his own strength. Levi acknowledged his love for freedom and encouraged him to make firm choices that he won't regret. During the Uprising Arc, Levi left it on Eren to make a choice and he came to a conclusion on his own by deciding to trust his own strength. In the Marley arc, Eren did whatever he deemed fit even going against orders. Eren decides on his own. This is the ability he developed thanks to his sort of father-figure, Levi.

Zeke, on the other hand, was groomed by Xaver who prevailed on him the improbability of ever achieving freedom as they're biologically linked with the Founder.

Contrasted to Levi, who put full faith on Eren and invested on him to save humanity, Xaver never had any faith on Zeke. From the beginning he was convinced that Eldians were beyond help and that even Zeke cannot liberate them in any way other than just erasing them off the face of Earth forever. Zeke, as a child, didn't get the freedom or opportunity to develop his own will like Eren. Even though he thought he was relieved from the brain washing of his parents, he only signed up for another sort of brain washing under Xaver's guidance. Xaver gaslighted a young, naive Zeke and made a cold, killing machine out of him who holds little to no regard for life. Zeke is always drawing him in when talking about Euthanasia. It almost seems like the conclusion Zeke reached is not inspired from free will, but is rather an outcome of Xaver's cynicism.

• Eren stands for freedom. Eren is free to decide on his own but his idea of freedom doesn't end there. He wants freedom not for himself, but for his whole race, for the world and even for Ymir Fritz as we can see him genuinely feeling sorry for her.

To him, freedom is a fundamental right of everyone and he must make sure that everyone realizes this right. And to that end, he will even behave rudely with his friends. Also, Eren confronting Mikasa kind of had a good outcome in that she decided to stop centering her life around Eren. Eren wants her to live and decide for herself, to move on from idealising him to an oppressive extent.

Zeke, however, stands for enslavement. He's a slave to a lot of things and therefore his thoughts too are shaped along that line. There's no direct allusion to this but, him not being able to move on from his past is self-explanatory. Zeke is not free in the sense that he still can't let go of Grisha's faulty parenting. Everything he relies on has to do with his past. He holds little to no consideration for present events. On the other hand, Eren held himself responsible for the death of the former Levi squad, but he let go of that with time. As a boy, he raved on about exterminating Titans, but he let go of that when he learned about the truth. He wanted to kill Reiner brutally, wanted to kill everyone living past the sea, but with time he grew past these feelings and accepted reality. Eren does not live in self-denial, he has been disillusioned more than often but, he had moved forward each time accepting reality. But, coming to Zeke we have a character who is a slave to the past and is extremely delusional- delusional to the point where he just cannot bring himself to accept the fact that Eren has not been brainwashed, that Zeke is not after all an entirely shitty person and that there may just be an alternative to the horrible idea of euthanising Eldians. He projects his own trauma on the world and just as he cannot save himself, just as he cannot let go of his scarred past, he believes a similar fate awaits all Eldians, i.e., they cannot let go of their past atrocities. He is chained to his past and believes the world is too. This is why he develops a negative saviour complex where he thinks he can set Eldians free only by denying them any probable future.

Another thing to remember is that Zeke's driving force is primarily his belief that humanity is enslaved to the fate of waging wars and is at fault just for being born. This directly contradicts Eren's belief that everyone is free from the moment they are born.

Thoughts on the aftermath : Zeke and Eren are both vested with the responsibility of all Eldians. Their contradictory personalities led them to arrive at different conclusions regarding the problem of their race. So, which of them will prevail in the end? It remains to be seen. But, with the way the plot has progressed, it can be said that the future generation will survive. Eren Kruger asserted the importance of loving someone so that the cycle of hate is broken in the future; Gabi and Falco represent the future generation and Falco's confession of love and marriage is more than hinting at a future where the cycle of life persists. Long before this, after the Serum bowl, when Levi gave Armin the serum, the end note affirmed the need of passing on responsibilities to the next generation. The next generation is important, the future is essential. Also SnK 120 established that because of Paths the concept of time (or linearity of time) is often lost what with Grisha being able to see the futuristic Zeke.

So it can be safely deduced that the future can influence the past. This has happened before too with Kruger talking about Mikasa and Armin and Eren waking up from his dream of the future. The influence and impact of the future is established time and again in SnK, so one can assume that the future generation will survive.

But then what's to become of Zeke? This is pure speculation but a change of heart could be a possibility. Zeke is now officially the powerful villain™️ with him having greater control in both Paths realms and in the real world. Eren could have something up his sleeve but after providing this much insight into Zeke's sad history, (not to mention how intriguing his whole character arc is) it's unlikely that Isayama would just make Eren defeat/kill him. Rather, perhaps Zeke would be redeemed. Zeke's love for Eren can bring about his potential redemption. The Jaeger brothers contrast each other in every step but when Zeke met Eren, he found love. Even now, when he can do whatever he wants, he seeks his brother's validation. A character who grew up learning hate and despair has finally found love and hope. Zeke has a saviour complex and wants to save Eren but ironically, Eren was the one who saved Zeke. It is because of Eren that Zeke understands sibling love. Ever since his encounter with Eren, we find him saying he 'understands' Colt's feelings towards Falco. Maybe, in a similar way, Zeke will gradually come to value life too and give up on euthanasia? Also, in this panel we see how Eren is sort of confidently calling Zeke to see the next memory.

Just a guess here, but maybe he believes it will be Zeke's empathetic awakening? However, with Isayama saying he wants to hurt the readers, things can take a really ugly turn. Even Eren's death flags are close [I'm not crying]. To sum it up, killing off Zeke would be a waste and in the aftermath, him surviving to repent for his sins would fit into the whole gray morality theme of SnK. If Eren and his memories can bring about some positive change in Zeke, it'll help Zeke's character arc reach a proper conclusion. It will also resolve the conflict between the Jaeger brothers and conceivably bring forth a reconciliation between the hero and the villain which'd further highlight the subliminal moral ambiguity in the heart of SnK.

#snk #snk meta #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #zeke jaeger #zeke yaeger #jaeger bros #snk thoughts #snk analysis #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #aot meta #snk 120

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queenhawke · 5 years ago

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ok goddamn here are all my Gripes with the timeless children/s12 more broadly in one post so i can just get it all out there and stop thinking about it hopefully.

this is far too long and frankly very rambly and incoherent but i absolutely do not have the time or energy to write some sort of Coherent Essay lmao

but uhhh tl;dr get ya head outta the past and into the present, chibs

ok so first of all it’s just a badly written episode. like chibs my dude my bro my pal why the Fuck did u think having the master just Exposition at the doctor for 40 minutes was a good idea. why did u think that i would care about any of the 4??? side characters (i can’t even fuckin remember how many there were!!!) when they are just. complete nonentities. why should i care about obi-wan ko sharmus sacrificing himself when he’s just. There. and his backstory gets explained 5 seconds before he dies and it’s not even that interesting. wHyYyyy would u leave Time Lord/Cyberman Hybrid for the last 5 minutes and then have them just stand around doing nothing!!!! why on GOD’S GREEN EARTH would u take the genuinely interesting concept of a cyberman zealot/cult leader and then just be like ‘ye so he wants to be a robot and also he has a big Death Bomb now for some reason’. like having the master point out that it’s a dumb plan doesn’t make it any less of a dumb plan aaaahhhhhhhhh

BUT ALL THAT ASIDE all that nonsense aside.......... what is this timeless child thing, really. like what does it add to the doctor as a character. what does it add to the time lords as a concept? like. the Big Shocking reveal is that...... time lords are bastards, lied about shit and manipulated an innocent child? like YA BRO WE BEEN KNEW, that is exactly what they did w/ the master in the end of time (which. i also thought was dumb but w/e). like this ain’t new, chibs! except now it’s about them doing it to the doctor and now it’s Revealed that the doctor is the Most Specialest Person In Time Lord History and like

why tho

like is this really more interesting than the doctor just being a regular, even kinda shitty time lord who became a good person

“oh but it adds more mystery” does it???? how?? bc idk what y’all saw but to me it looked like they just explained the doctor’s entire fuckin backstory. like. all we don’t know is

1. where the kid came from, which honestly...... isn’t that interesting a question bc it’s either like another planet/dimension or mayyyyybe it’s some sort of stable time loop thing idk but like. yawn. sorry maybe other people find that exciting, it sounds extremely boring to me.

and 2. we don’t know the full extent of what the doctor did w/ the Division (which. god i can’t stop thinking about the video game whenever i see that name) but like........ ok let’s say maybe the doctor did Bad Shit when they were w/ those time lords. that’s kind of the implication right? either they were forced to do bad shit or they initially voluntarily did bad shit and then rebelled and that’s where ruth!doctor comes in. like that seems the most likely trajectory that storyline takes

but

that’s all way in the past

like that’s happened and judging by ruth they’ve basically already learned and grown from that AND THEN presumably they got mindwiped and started over as a kid so like...... can you even hold the current doctor accountable and also like.

like it’s done

like it’s over

ruth is here

we’re already at the end point of this progression you know

i mean unless chibs intends to do episodes from the perspective of that pre-hartnell era, which i kinda doubt but who knows. but otherwise, the only way you can show that whole like... chain of events, is through flashback and exposition and i just. hmmmm im already tired

“oh but it fits perfectly in the lore and it makes sense and” ok but i don’t!! care!! how it fits in the Lore!! like if you do care about Lore that’s cool but like im sorry i fundamentally don’t give a shit UNLESS it is backed up by genuinely interesting character stuff and i just

don’t see anything here that wasn’t already in the show u know

“oh but morbius doctors explained!!” u think the casual audience knows or cares about the fuckin morbius doctors??? im not a casual viewer and i don’t even give a shit about the morbius doctors. im sure people do!!! i know people do But God Jesus Christ the last thing dr who needs to do is continuously go back into its own history to fix plot holes that really aren’t important to any of the characters at all. it’s a 56 year old show, there’s gonna be inconstencies and unless “““fixing”“““ those inconstistencies leads to actual interesting stories i Just Do Not Give A Shit

and like i get the feeling that this whole thing was smth chris chibnall has had in his head since forever, like this was his Big Bold Plan when he was a young guy watching classic who. and like. i get wanting to do that story now, but... the show has moved on, the world has moved on. he can do whatever he likes, but things have in fact happened, and sometimes you gotta adjust your big dream story to account for those things that have changed. sure, every showrunner is completely entitled to do with the show what they want, BUT the audience is still experiencing the show as one continuous story, and you gotta take that into account unless you want it to be super jarring for them! you want the master to blow up gallifrey, but gallifrey has been blown up + brought back in very recent history? find another way. this story could easily have been done without destroying gallifrey. i mean, have the master kill some time lords, sure, whatever. but keep them around! have them react to the doctor finding out the truth, have them confront each other!!! isn’t that a much more interesting story, anyway?

ok jesus this is getting way too long LISTEN

here are my main points:

- like the cartmel plan before it, it takes away far more mystery than it adds. it takes the vast and endless Unknown and turns it into like... a “mystery” plot the size of your average scandinoir thriller. before, the doctor’s life before an unearthly child could be anything you want. now it’s.... this

- the actual execution of it is bad. the dr sits in a cage for 40 minutes and is shocked and then she gets over it in that same episode

- it robs the doctor of a certain kind of agency and accountability. instead of a privileged time lord who got better through their travels and companions, now they’re an abused, adopted child who was always an outcast. and that’s not like..... an inherently bad story!! i get why that resonates with people, i do. BUT BUT BUT....... why does that have to be their story. why does that have to get shoved into the doctor’s backstory when that could be the story of a companion? why are you replacing one story when you could be creating new ones?

i think actually that’s my Main Gripe with all of this.

why is this the doctor’s story?

for an era that is supposed to be all about inclusivity and diversity and Space For All, why is the end result that the companions get shoved to the side in favour of doing gallifrey and the master again, in favour of Lore, in favour of the fuckin morbius doctors? why would you dangle jo martin in front of my face and then reduce her to the Magical Black Woman trope in this ep? why does the character who has up to this point been portrayed by 13 white men and 1 white woman, get the backstory about being an adoptee, why are you making all these past doctors people of colour and of different genders, instead of just... acknowledging that doctor who’s past wasn’t very diverse, and forging ahead with NEW stories instead.

doctor who thrives on change, but this isn’t.... like it’s not going forward. it’s looking back and prioritising the past instead of focusing on the present, on the new generation. i didn’t like s11 much, but not using any past monsters was a good refreshing choice! no, they weren’t all great, but we got stuff like demons of the punjab and ITYA out of it, stories that were genuinely great and new. and in many ways s12 was an improvement, but going so full-in on classic monsters and stories... it felt like a step back.

i want new stories. tell me about yaz. tell me about ryan. tell me about places that aren’t england or gallifrey or other places we’ve been to. tell me about monsters that aren’t the daleks or cybermen or time lords. tell me about new mistakes the doctor makes. let her fuck up now, in the present. let her make bad decisions, let her do shitty things now, not lifetimes ago. let graham, yaz and ryan fuck up. let the fam clash with each other, really clash, not this half-assed stuff we had this season. tell me new stories with these new characters, that i still feel like i barely know despite having had two full seasons with them.

and give me jo martin as the 14th doctor goddamn

#jo has thoughts #this is Too Long #but hopefully now i can Rest

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chinguwritings · 4 years ago

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A 3RACHA Fan-Fiction

|| Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 ||

By: Admin Kay

Chapter 3 - Shared Feelings

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Hanahaki AU

Rating: R (swearing, sexual scenes)

Word Count: 4.2k

“Changbin,” Jisung called as he knocked on his bedroom door. Not receiving an answer, he welcomed himself in and found a still sleeping Changbin curled up on his bed. “Hyung?” he called again, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Did you see Chan’s text last night?”

“Hng?” he mumbled into his pillow as he shifted under the sheets, “I didn’t check my phone last night.”

“Oh… well, he wanted to have a 3racha day today so he invited both of us to go to the amusement park with him. Do you think you’re feeling well enough to go?”

“Not really… I still feel like shit.”

“Damn…” Jisung sighed, worriedly glancing back at Changbin, “He wanted to celebrate after finishing our recording so he was really looking forward to it… I’ll let him know you don’t feel good.”

He waited for a confirmation from Changbin, but got nothing, so he decided to just head back to his room and start getting ready. Jisung really did feel bad that Changbin couldn’t come, but secretly, he was kind of excited that it would just be him and Chan… it was like a second date!

“Hello?”

“Hi, Chan-hyung!” Jisung greeted through the phone as he looked through his closet for a nice outfit, “So um… I’ve got some good news, and bad news.”

“Okay, let’s hear the bad first.”

“So, Changbin has been sick since yesterday afternoon… this morning I checked up on him, but he said he still doesn’t feel good so he’s not gonna come today.”

“Oh, he’s sick? He seemed alright at his recording yesterday… tell him I hope he feels better soon. So what’s the good news?”

“I’m going!” Jisung said excitedly, finally deciding on an outfit and laying it out on his bed.

“Oh,” Chan chuckled at the excitement in Jisung’s voice, “Alright, so it’ll just be the two of us then?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered, trying to sound a little less giddy as he changed into the clothes he’d picked out.

“Okay then, I’ll be at your place in like fifteen minutes to pick you up.”

“Sounds good! See you soon.”

“See you.”

Cupping his face in his hands, Jisung laughed hysterically to himself, unable to wipe the huge smile off his face. He couldn’t even process the excitement he was feeling about being alone with Chan again, and even more so, at an amusement park. Even though it wasn’t intended to be a date, the given circumstances were sure as hell making it seem like one.

Recollecting himself, he finished styling his hair and gave himself a few spritz of his favorite cologne before packing a condom and mints in his pants pockets, as always, and just as he finished getting ready, he heard his phone go off.

[Chan 11:43 am]: Im here

As excited as he was, he was also nervous. This was the first time they’d be spending time together with Chan knowing Jisung was gay, and although he was supportive when he came out, hanging out now would be completely different. What if Chan started being awkward around him because he knew Jisung was into guys now? He knew Chan was a nice person, but this was sexuality they were talking about; if Chan was straight and he suspected that Jisung had a crush on him, the close friendship they shared and developed up to this point could be put on the line. It was a bit scary for Jisung to be honest, but he really liked Chan, so he wanted to make a genuine effort to be with him. If it didn’t work out, well then he would just accept that it’s not meant to be… at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey,” Jisung greeted as he opened the passenger side door of the company van.

“Hey,” Chan smiled, peering over at Jisung as he made himself comfortable and slung his seatbelt on, “You look nice!”

“Oh, uh… thanks!” Jisung stuttered, his eyes falling to the floor nervously, “Um… you too.”

“No need to flatter me,” Chan chuckled as he put the car back into drive and started making his way to the amusement park. “So… do you know when Changbin started feeling sick?”

“Hm… not exactly, but it must’ve been shortly after the recording yesterday. He said he was gonna meet me at the practice room, but he didn’t show up, and then when I got home I found him in the bathroom. It didn’t sound too good…”

“I see…” Chan nodded, a serious expression on his face as he focused intensely on the road.

“Yeah… he said it’s just food poisoning, but I’m not too sure. Sometimes, Changbin tries to act tough and hide when he’s hurting, but I don’t like to fight with him about it,” Jisung shrugged, turning to look out the window before continuing, “I’m sure he’ll go to the doctor if it’s bad enough, so I’m trying not to worry.”

“I agree, as long as he knows his limits he should be fine.”

* * *

Changbin groaned as he stretched out his arms and then reached for his phone, checking the time through half lidded eyes. Damn, it’s 2 already? he sighed, rubbing his face as he slowly sat himself up and dragged himself out of bed.

“Jisung,” he called as he walked out into the hall towards Jisung’s bedroom, but there was no answer. “Jisung?” he called again, knocking on the door before opening it and peeking inside. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…

Finding an empty room, he quickly made a round around their small apartment to double check, but as suspected, Jisung was nowhere to be found. Changbin only sighed in response knowing there was nothing he could do about it at that point. He was just in utter disbelief that Jisung cared more about going out with Chan than staying home to make sure his best friend was okay… was something going on between them?

He had suffered enough last night, getting caught up in his thoughts about Chan, so he tried his best not to think about it; the last thing he wanted was another bad flare up. Wanting to keep himself busy, he thought it’d be a good idea to clean up around the house, taking out the trash, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, vacuuming, and so on. By the time he’d finished, it was almost dinner time, so he decided to go out and treat himself at a nice restaurant since Jisung was probably gonna be out for a while more.

As he sat at his table waiting for his food to be served, he found himself scrolling through his social media to pass the time; it was pretty boring though, there wasn’t much to see. He was just about to get off of the app when he noticed a post from the 3racha account on his feed, so he scrolled down to see what it was. To no surprise, it was selfies of Chan and Jisung and they were posing together on the ferris wheel.

Even though he wasn’t surprised, Changbin definitely wasn’t happy about seeing pictures like that. All he could think to himself was, why couldn’t it be me? He wasn’t one hundred percent sure if Chan and Jisung had feelings for each other, but seeing as Jisung had been acting strangely these days and avoiding Changbin’s questions, it was hard for him to ignore the eerie feeling he’d developed in regards to their relationship.

If they really did have something though… why? What’s so different about Jisung that Changbin doesn’t have? What does Chan see in him? Is it because Jisung is more bubbly? Taller? Better looking? It bothered him knowing that Chan could possibly like Jisung and not even that long after their one night stand. Did Chan really not care about him?

He was able to go the entire day flower free, but good things don’t last forever, right? Just as the waitress brought his food, he could feel the familiar tightness building up in his lungs accompanied by his increasing heart rate and an intense urge to cough.

“Um excuse me…” he called to the waitress as she walked away, “Where’s the restroom?”

“In that corner over there, just past the wall,” she pointed as she spoke, “You’ll see the sign.”

“Thank you,” Changbin barely finished as he rushed to the corner as she’d directed, tears filling his eyes as he continued to fight back his urge to cough. It’s not that this disease was critical and would cause people to panic if they saw someone who had it; it wouldn’t cause death in its early stages and it wasn’t contagious. But Changbin found it rather embarrassing and it just made him feel extremely pathetic. How can an idiot really be hung up on a person who treats them like shit and doesn’t like them back? If people knew that some dude was struggling with unrequited love long enough to have reached the fourth stage, green petals… then doesn’t that show weakness? That he’s not strong enough to move forward? Besides being noticed by people in public, maybe that’s also why he was so afraid to tell Jisung. He didn’t want him to think he was weak.

Arriving at the bathroom just in time, he shut and locked the door before his lungs spewed dozens of green lily petals into the toilet bowl. It always hurt more after dwelling on his thoughts for a long time and it also seemed to be hurting more as his disease continued to progress; when would it end? Clutching his sides in pain, he closed his eyes as he tried his best to steady his labored breathing. It took a few minutes for him to finally regain strength enough to pull himself back together, although part of it was forced just because he wanted to get out of that place as soon as he could.

Once he got back to his table, he asked for his check and to have his food taken out instead, not really having much of an appetite anymore after his sudden outburst. By the time he got back home, it was nearly 8, but still Jisung hadn’t come home. How long were they gonna be out anyways?

* * *

“So did you have fun?” Chan asked as he and Jisung found an open table to sit down and eat their food at.

“Yes! Thank you so much for bringing me,” Jisung smiled as he bit into his burger.

Chan chuckled, finding Jisung’s reaction cute, “I’m glad. We should definitely do this more often.”

Jisung’s eyes grew wide at Chan’s comment, surprised to hear that he felt that way. It’s true that he might’ve been thinking more of it than it really was, but knowing that Chan wanted to spend more time with him regardless if it was platonic or not made Jisung’s heart flutter. The more he could bond with Chan, the more he felt like he had a chance.

“I mean… unless you don’t want to,” Chan interrupted teasingly in response to Jisung’s silence.

“N-no no, that’s not it! I do want to… I was just surprised… is all…”

Chan could only laugh again, seeing how flustered Jisung was. He wasn’t really sure, but he was starting to get an inkling that maybe Jisung had a crush on him. Even though this whole amusement park hangout was meant to be for 3racha, he was thankful to have another opportunity with just Jisung so he could test if his hypothesis was correct. “Did you have any last things you wanted to do before we leave?” Chan asked before finishing off his food.

For a moment Jisung sat there, thinking if there was anything else he wanted to do. As he glanced around the park that was now beautifully illuminated in the night, there was actually one thing that stood out to him and caught his attention. “Um… if you’re up for it, do you want to go on the ferris wheel again? Since it’s dark now, maybe we can see the city lights.”

“Sure,” Chan smiled, “I wanted to go again too, actually.”

After finishing up their food and cleaning up the table, the two of them made their way back to the ferris wheel. Thankfully, the line wasn’t too long so they were able to get into a cart fairly quickly. Slowly the cart made its ascent as other people boarded after them and as Jisung mentioned, once they were high enough, the breathtaking view of the city came into view, the street lights glowing under the starry night sky.

“Hyung, look,” Jisung gawked as he stared out the window, “It’s so beautiful.”

Chan took the opportunity to scoot closer to him, slinging his arm over the back of Jisung’s side of the bench as he peered over his shoulder, “It definitely is… but I’ve got my eyes on something else.”

Jisung’s face suddenly began to heat up, hands growing clammy as his heart began to pound. He was really hoping it was him that Chan was referring to, but it seemed too good to be true. He didn’t want to give himself false hope.

“Y-you do?” he answered, not wanting to make assumptions too quickly. As he turned to face Chan, he was startled to see that he’d scooted closer while he wasn’t paying attention and his face was now just a hair's width away from his own.

“Stop me if you don’t like it,” Chan barely whispered before pressing his lips against Jisungs. His eyes widened at Chan’s abrupt advance, his face even more flushed now than earlier as he sat there in shock. “Not gonna kiss me back?” Chan mumbled as he pulled away, his hand going up to brush over Jisung’s cheek, “I’ll stop if—”

Before he could finish, Jisung reconnected their lips, his arms wrapping around Chan’s waist to pull him closer. Chan chuckled against Jisung’s lips, feeling his fiery passion emanating from the kiss and how much he’d probably been longing for this moment to happen… so it was finally confirmed that Jisung did in fact like Chan.

The two gasped for air as Jisung finally pulled away, still slightly appalled by what had just happened. Did this mean… Chan liked him too?

“I guess… you really are a virgin, huh?” Chan teased upon noticing the slight tent in Jisung’s pants, likely from their brief make-out session, “I believe you now.”

“Yah…” Jisung whined as he turned away from Chan, embarrassed, and covered his crotch area with his hands.

“What? I didn’t say it was a bad thing. You’re young, better to save it for the right person anyways.”

“And what if… I think that person is you?” Just after Jisung said that, he regretted it; that wasn’t at all how he planned to confess to Chan. He imagined it being much smoother and more romantic.

“Is that so?” Chan grinned, “Well, if you think so, I’d definitely love to be that person for you.”

“R-really? I mean… not just the sex part, though… I actually… really like you, Chan-hyung.”

“I know, and I like you, too, Jisung.”

Jisung had the biggest smile plastered onto his face at the sound of Chan’s words, tempted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Chan really just told him that he liked him back and this was the first time they spent any time together after their last hang out when he first came out. It was a little hard for him to believe but he also didn’t think Chan would lie to him, especially about something as sensitive as romantic feelings.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cart door being opened by one of the park attendants, who then gestured for them to exit the ride. The two boys bowed slightly, thanking the person as they stepped out of the cart and started making their way back to the van. Jisung was still speechless and lost in his thoughts as they walked and Chan could tell; he didn’t want to interrupt though, so he let him be, following close behind until they finally arrived back in the parking lot. By the time they left, it was past 8 and so when they got back to Jisung’s place, it was almost 9.

“Hyung…” he started, catching Chan by surprise as he parked the van up against the curb.

“Hm?” he replied, turning his head to face Jisung, “Is something wrong?”

“Um… there’s something I wanna try…” he stated shyly, eyes falling to the floor as he awaited Chan’s response.

“Alright, what is it?”

Jisung was hesitant about answering, but he really just dug his own grave. He already brought it up so there was no running away now. “Uh well… do you think we could um… go in the back seat first?”

“Oh?” Chan questioned, cocking his head at Jisung who looked quite embarrassed, “Yeah, that’s fine with me.” Chan smirked to himself knowingly as he got out of his seat and met Jisung in the back seat and shut the door behind him. He didn’t know exactly what Jisung wanted to do but he could definitely assume the premise of it. “So, what is it you wanted to try?”

Jisung froze, staring at Chan as he tried to build up enough courage to share his request, but he kept having second thoughts. He couldn’t help but think it’d be strange and abrupt to just ask Chan to make out with him again, and on top of that he’d probably end up thinking Jisung was desperate. After that little taste Chan gave him on the ferris wheel though, he just couldn’t get it out of his mind; he wanted to feel it again but this time longer, more passionate, and maybe it could even lead to more if he was lucky… he didn’t carry a condom with him at all times for nothing.

After waiting in silence for too long, Chan snickered before finally breaking the silence, “Let me guess… it has something to do with what happened on the ferris wheel.” Scooting closer, Chan placed a hand on Jisung’s thigh, his other hand going up to caress Jisung’s face, thumb brushing over his smooth, rosy cheek.

Jisung barely nodded, eyes wide with anticipation in hopes that Chan would be the one to initiate it again. He barely made out a grin forming on Chan’s lips when he let his eyes flutter shut, waiting to feel the amazing feeling he felt on the ferris wheel for the second time.

For a moment, Chan only looked at him in amusement; it was adorable how Jisung became so reliant when he was nervous, but he was almost certain now that he knew what Jisung wanted. Leaning in, Chan finally pressed his plump lips against Jisung’s, earning himself a little gasp from the younger boy. The hand he had upon Jisung’s face, soon shifted instead to the nape of his neck sending chills down his spine while the hand on his thigh slowly inched higher and higher, giving him light squeezes in between. He could feel his insides tingling from the combination of sensations he was feeling and to add to that, Chan slipped his tongue into Jisung’s mouth without any warning, making his breath hitch in his throat.

Jisung could feel the crotch of his pants starting to tighten again, his burning desire for Chan building up again and intensifying, far exceeding what he felt on the ferris wheel. He never knew that he could be so attracted to a guy in this way, or any way really, it made him want to do everything with Chan and he couldn’t get enough of his touch.

Reaching for the hand on his thigh, Jisung did something completely unexpected; he wasn’t sure if it was his hyperactive libido acting or if he was just that comfortable with Chan now, but before he could even think about it, he had dragged Chan’s hand further up his leg until it finally landed on his bulging erection. He felt Chan smirk against his lips before slightly pulling away to speak. “I didn’t know you could be so bold,” Chan chuckled, fingers curling around Jisung’s girth as much as his pants allowed.

As much as Jisung wanted to reply, his brain was too overwhelmed to form words, only a soft moan slipping out of his mouth in response to the new sensation. Even with clothes in between, Chan’s hands just felt so damn good and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Hyung,” he whimpered, gripping Chan’s bicep to brace himself, “Y-you… can do what you want… t-to me.”

“Are you sure?” Chan asked, momentarily halting his movements.

Nodding his head, Jisung desperately urged his hips upwards, wanting Chan to continue his glorious fingerwork. “I trust you.”

Chan grinned in acknowledgement before proceeding to touch Jisung again. “Okay. I’ll go easy on you… since you’re a virgin.”

“Yah… you always make fun of me,” Jisung whined, inhaling sharply as Chan began toying with his head, “Have you done it before or something?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, pausing his hand movements again to undo Jisung’s pants, “And I only make fun of you because I think you’re cute.”

Jisung felt his face heating up again at Chan’s words, eyes glued to Chan’s hands to avoid his gaze. Did he really just call me… cute? I must be dreaming…

The air felt cool around Jisung’s throbbing cock as Chan pulled down his briefs, letting it free, precum starting to seep from the tip in anticipation. Chan skillfully spread the substance around with his thumb before wrapping his fingers around his shaft, slowly beginning to pump him.

Jisung struggled to hold in his moans, the skin on skin contact of Chan’s hand on him presenting a new degree of pleasure that he’d never felt on his own. He honestly imagined it’d feel comparable to masturbating, but there was just something about Chan’s touch that felt so much better, though, he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was exactly. He’d barely done anything, and Jisung already felt like his end was nearing.

“Feel good, Sungie?” Chan smirked against his ear, gently nipping at it before pressing a few kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

“Fuck,” Jisung groaned, face scrunched as he tried to fight back his orgasm, wanting to hold on to the blissful feeling Chan was giving him just a little longer.

“You’re close aren’t you?” he mumbled into his neck, fingers sliding up to play with his slick, sensitive head, “Just relax.”

“God, Chan-” Jisung gritted his teeth as he clenched onto Chan’s shirt sleeve, feeling his insides starting to tingle. He was holding on to his composure by only a single thread, but Chan had other plans, showing him no mercy as he suddenly picked up speed making Jisung gasp. “Chan I’m—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, and intense pleasure erupted throughout his body, making him tense up as his head fell forward, hair covering the profanities that he mouthed as he spilled his hot seed. Chan hovered his hand over Jisung’s member to prevent the substance from shooting onto his clothes, instead letting it drip down his hand and accumulate in one place. Once Jisung finished riding out his high, Chan kicked out a tissue box from under the seat to clean up the mess, while Jisung attempted to catch his breath and collect himself before doing anything else.

“That was… amazing,” Jisung mumbled, slumped back in his seat with his eyes still closed.

“I’m glad,” Chan smiled as he wadded up the used tissues and tossed them into the front cup holder to discard later.

Wearily, Jisung turned his head, staring at Chan through his hooded lids before his gaze fell down to Chan’s crotch.

“Hyung! You’re hard,” Jisung gasped, reaching down to cup his bulging erection when he was abruptly stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

“You should go,” Chan spoke solemnly, a glint of worry in his eyes, “Changbin is probably waiting for you.”

“But Chan!” Jisung whined, “After you did that for me… I have to return the favor…”

“Another time, Jisung… it’s 9:30 already.”

“But—”

Pressing his lips to Jisung’s, he quickly shut him up, but the kiss was brief as he still stood by his earlier words. “Go,” he said again as he pulled away, quickly opening the side door and hopping out after, “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Jisung was sad to leave, but he knew Chan was right. Changbin was home alone, sick for literally the entire day because Jisung wanted to spend time alone with Chan. He hated to admit it, but it was an extremely selfish decision and he didn’t even want to think about how Changbin probably felt; he knew it’d make him feel even more guilty than he already did.

When Jisung stepped into the apartment, he found Changbin sitting on the couch watching TV, completely unphased by his arrival.

“Wow. Aren’t you late,” Changbin remarked, his focus never leaving the tv as he spoke.

“Y-yeah, I guess… a little?” Jisung said nervously as he took off his shoes and set them aside.

“So, how was your date?”

“W-what? What do you mean?”

“Stop playing innocent already. It’s getting annoying.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw the damn van parked outside at least twenty minutes ago, don’t lie to me! What the hell were you doing in there for twenty minutes?! or maybe even longer, I don’t know!”

“I…” Shit.

|| Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 ||

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kipattiyabh-blog · 4 years ago

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dyaz-stories · 6 years ago

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Don’t Save The Citizen

One more writing for Sky High! Obviously still Warren/Layla or Greenpeace, as their ship name goes (perfectly, may I add). Hope you enjoy!

Available on fanfiction.net and Ao3

Virtually everybody in Sky High knew that Layla Williams and Will Stronghold were invincible, or at the very least, yet unbeaten, at Save the Citizen. Sure, they weren’t the first with that title, but there was no doubt, in anybody’s mind, that they were the best heroes possible — that, despite Layla having proudly decided to remain in the Hero Support class. Even with their constant victories, they graciously left the floor for others if they wanted to fight, and never picked their own adversaries, unless they had been asked to.

Playing against them, rather than about competition, had become all about progressing, getting better as a hero, and understanding how to find your enemy’s weak points. They were always nice and helpful after defeating their previous adversaries, too.

Basically, they were pure hero material, to a point that was almost annoying.

Scratch that, to a point that a lot of people found it annoying.

Of course, there were people who genuinely wanted to kick them off of their pedestal. Some had already tried, and some had yet to make their move.

Rachel Munroe was one of them.

She’d been watching for weeks, assessing the situation, carefully examining their every move, until she had come up with a plan that she thought she could make work.

Of course, Will Stronghold wasn’t a problem. Sure, the kid was impressive, and his cleverness when he faced with challenges during a fight was something to take into account — something she was glad she had had the opportunity of seeing, because he certainly didn’t display it the rest of the time. However, she was convinced she could take him. She wasn’t born yesterday either, after all.

No, the biggest unknown factor was Layla Williams. She wasn’t the one who did most of the fighting, standing back, watching, careful, ready to jump in at any point to support Will. Yet her powers most certainly weren’t any less impressive as her partner’s, but that was the problem.

Rachel had no idea just how good nor how strong she was.

She had come up with a plan, sure, having found in the rest of the school the perfect person to take down plant girl, but Layla was still the main reason why she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she would win.

She hated that, but at the same time, there was a nice thrill to it.

“Anyone want to have a go at Williams and Stronghold?” Coach Boomer’s voice was vaguely annoyed. Seriously, no one in school would have been surprised to discover the guy was secretly a Super Villain, based on how much he seemed to dislike heroes winning.

“Here, Coach!” Rachel yelled, standing up.

He turned to look at her, then gave her an appreciative nod. Girl had arrived in the school recently, made her way straight to the Hero Class, and you know what? He still entertained the hope someone could take the two, and she was as good a bet of anyone else.

“You go, Munroe! We need a second—”

“I’m calling Warren Peace!”

There was a shuddering silence after her announcement, everyone staring as Warren stood up, slowly. Even though he was now regularly seen talking to other students and seemed to be on, if not friendly, at least neutral terms with both Layla and Will, he still had the reputation of someone you absolutely shouldn’t mess with. The Coach allowed a dangerous laugh to escape his lips. Oh, he wanted to see that.

Everyone missed the brief, worried exchange of glances between Warren and Layla.

It was time to fight.

If you asked Layla what her main asset was, she would no doubt have answered you it was how focused and calm she could remain, how in control she was. She would define herself as being the opposite of Will, who, well, had the tendency of using his emotions as a fuel to fight. It worked out rather well for the two of them, so she couldn’t say she minded. In fact, that was exactly why they made the best of team and the best of friends.

Friends, most definitely, though half of the school probably thought they dated. Well, they had, but it had only lasted a couple of weeks before they came down from the high induced by the whole Royal Pain situation, and realized for Layla that she just wasn’t in love with Will anymore — funny how that can go — and for Will, that while he loved Layla, there was nothing remotely romantic about his feelings.

But this was not the right moment to think about that, even if she needed to convince herself that they had a chance to win this.

She didn’t know Rachel that well just yet and hadn’t particularly marked her down as a threat, since the black-haired girl was rather discreet, however she had seemed… surprisingly confident earlier. Which was not exactly reassuring.

Layla exchanged a quick look with Will. The boy looked rather relaxed. Some times she appreciated the natural assurance he had gained once he had gotten his powers, others she wished he would take things more seriously.

Like right now, for example.

Layla did not like to lose.

She talked a lot about how competition was bad and everything, and she firmly believed that. She thought the system at Sky High was deeply flawed, and currently her plan for the future was to become a teacher here and try to change it.

Still, she couldn’t stand the idea of losing.

She watched Warren and Rachel get in place, facing them, having put on the suits the villains always wore. She wondered how Warren felt about it. She knew for a fact that he hated being treated as a villain, even if it wasn’t in direct reference to his father. She couldn’t read it on his face though, as he was wearing his impenetrable scowl. She thought she’d gotten better at that, but apparently it turned out that he could very much hide it from her if he chose to. She felt a painful squeeze in her chest at that thought.

He glared at her and Will darkly, and Rachel quickly moved towards him, pulling him down by grabbing his shoulder and whispering quickly in his ear.

He seemed to listen, and then she pulled her hand away with a yelp, the sight almost getting a smile out of Layla.

Yeah, Warren didn’t take too kindly to being touched without a warning.

“Stronghold, Williams,” Coach Boomer said. “You’re the heroes. You have three minutes to immobilize your opponents, and save the citizen.” They all knew the rules, obviously, but he still had to remind them at the beginning of every fight. “And… BATTLE!”

There wasn’t a second lost then. With the assurance given by months of practice, Will dove forward.

That was their most ‘basic’ move. With his ability to fly, he could just go get the citizen — and then it wouldn’t take too long for him and Layla to figure out a way to immobilize the villains, especially with the help of her plants. It was rare for people to be able to stop him for that first one.

This was one of those times though. Right as he was nearing the citizen, a strong gusts of wind suddenly pushed him backwards, sending him against the limits of the arena, at the bottom of which he fell down with a grunt.

Layla immediately turned towards Rachel. She was grinning, hands up, eyes shining in an unnatural way. She looked like she had already won. It was only seconds before Will was up next to Layla again, and that did make her smile waver. Layla gave Will a nod, and it was her turn to use her powers, moving her hands just a little. A giant root came out from seemingly nowhere, and Will easily jumped on to it, wrapping his arms around it as it carried him towards the citizen again.

Rachel’s wind slowed Layla down a little, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop her completely, which the black-haired teenager seemed to realize soon. That was exactly the type of info she would have liked to have earlier — but it would be fine. After all, it was exactly for that kind of reasons that she had picked her partner.

What on earth was he doing, by the way?

“Peace!” she shouted, mostly focused on her fight against Layla’s power, knowing that there was no use trying to make Will fall with his super-strength at work. “The hell are you waiting for?!”

Warren hesitated one second too long.

“Get your head in the game, Peace!” Coach Boomer shouted from his chair.

Shit. He really, really didn’t want to do that.

He lit up both of his arms, and threw two fireballs at Layla’s plant.

He hadn’t been ready for her scream, that sounded like a scream of pain, and for a second he almost ran up to her to make sure she was okay, but he couldn’t do that as Will, letting go of the root, started running towards him, almost managing to punch him back before Rachel’s wind caught him again. This time she apparently decided on keeping him dangling in the air, where he remained for a moment, powerless, with no support for him to escape her. She shot Warren a grin, but her victory was short-lived. Layla had already fully recovered, and wasn’t out of plants just like she had hoped.

Under Will, a tree grew up, and as soon as he got hold of it, it wasn’t hard for him to get himself out of Rachel’s clutches.

By then though, half of the time was already gone.

The time had stopped moving in the arena, people had stopped breathing. This was… This was not high-school level. They were seeing a true heroes-villains fight unfolding in front of them, and no one dared making a sound, even when, for a brief moment, there was no movement down there.

Layla and Will looked at each other once more, before she cocked her head towards Rachel. He understood immediately, something that came from their years of friendship and months of fighting side by side.

Layla was right, of course. Rachel had planned things one way — her against Will, Layla against Warren.

They had to switch things up.

Without a warning, they both started running opposite ways. Will straight towards Warren, but this time, before Rachel could do anything to intercept him, Layla was casting her plants at her. For one second, everything seemed to go just as planned.

Layla was easily one of the best students of the school in terms of control of her ability. When she was there, Gwen had probably been better at her than that, even during her first high school, but Layla could still do basically whatever she wanted with her powers, which was why she had no trouble protecting herself from the wind with leaves in front of her, and she knew she’d get her branches around Rachel sooner rather than later.

Well, that’s what she had expected, at least.

With her powers, it had made sense to her that Rachel would be specialized in long-distance fighting and not so much in hand-to-hand fighting.

So she had most definitely not expected Rachel to surge through her leaves and to kick her backwards, immediately sending her in Warren’s direction with the help of her wind, simultaneously grabbing Will with it once more. This time she wasn’t fast enough for him not to be able to catch some of Layla’s plants, now all over the ground. She grimaced when he escaped her once more. She had never used her powers that much in one fight, and she was starting to feel exhausted. Shit. She didn’t want to lose.

“One minute left!” Coach Boomer miraculously remembered to shout, going mostly ignored by his students, and in fact even earning himself a couple of “shhh” coming from the bleachers.

They had no time to waste, Layla decided. They still had to immobilize Rachel and Warren, and she had no idea how they’d do that for him. She didn’t want Will to knock him unconscious, and as long as he was here, she wouldn’t be able to use her plants on Rachel either. She could of course bury him under enough wood and leaves so it would take him some time to push through, but that sounded extremely dangerous, and she liked to keep things safe.

Still, she started developing her plants and they soon were creeping all over the arena, covering it entirely in some sort of moving, swarming nest, circling around the ankles of the three others, only loosely around Will to make sure he could stay on the ground but would be able to move.

It was when she attempted to make Rachel fall down that things took a turn for the worst. The second Rachel started staggering, waving her arms to keep some balance and starting to use her wind for herself as opposed to against Will, Warren threw a fireball while setting himself on fire, effectively burning everything that was around him.

Laya should have known. She should have expected it. She knew the connection she shared with her plants, the pain she would undoubtedly feel if they were hurt. She shouldn’t have used that many at the same time.

It would take her a long time to stop blaming herself for it all.

She lost it. She had never even thought it was possible for her. It had never, ever happened before. Not even in anger.

But there was pain, everywhere, and everything hurt, and it needed to stop.

Now.

Will couldn’t afford to turn around to see what was happening, even as the plants stopped moving and seemed to lose their life somehow. They had less than fifteen seconds left — it was now or never.

Grabbing the carpet of roots created by Layla, he used his strength to shake it, once, and the second a surprised Rachel did fall backwards, he was up in the air.

Oh, no. No, she wasn’t letting him do that — not when she’d come this far! Rachel rose a hand to stop—

But Will hadn’t let go of the roots as he’d jumped up. Its move as he ripped it off the ground had her rolling off of it, and when he landed back down right as the alarm rang out, he pulled it back on her, effectively trapping it underneath it.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and for once, Coach Boomer actually sounded happy to announce Layla and Will’s victory.

Layla didn’t hear any of it.

She was just regaining control, just understanding again what was happening around her, in front of her, what she was doing. Warren had set her plants on fire and then— Warren.

Her plants moved away from him, freeing his throat and his face, allowing him to breathe, and he fell to the ground, choking. They had been tied so tight around him that his fire didn’t get the oxygen it needed to burn, she realized, absolutely horrified.

“Warren!” she cried out, running towards him, going completely unnoticed underneath the crowd’s shouts.

It had only lasted a few seconds. It wouldn’t have been enough to kill him, and she knew that but it killed her to think she had hurt him. She didn’t— She didn’t hurt people. It wasn’t her power. She never even knocked them unconscious, as Will did sometimes. And to think she had hurt him, of all people…

Her hands founds his shoulders and Warren looked up. For a second, his eyes met hers, doing his best to reassure her in that silent way, and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, squeezing it tightly.

Then, he let go, and he moved away. She winced when she saw his hand rubbing his throat in discomfort, but she didn’t get more time to get close to him, to ask him if he was okay before Will lifted her up, flying through the gymnasium, under the other students’ acclamation. He’d taken the time to free Rachel first, because of course he had, and she watched them, arms folded, frowning.

Well, they’d won this time, she decided with a smirk. Barely.

Next time, she’d be ready.

But when her eyes met Layla’s, she knew she wouldn’t be the only one.

Technically, she should have waited until the end of class. That was their agreement, and Layla was good at respecting agreements.

But today, she grabbed him and dragged him into an empty classroom.

“Hey, what d’you think you’re…”

Before he could continue, the door was closed behind him. For once, she figured they could afford it. People wouldn’t think much about it — after all, it was very “like her” to worry about someone she had injured, even if it was during Save the Citizen.

“Listen, I’m—”

“You’re not fine!” Layla snapped, pushing him on to a table so he would be at her level as she lifted his head carefully, grimacing at the marks she’d left around his neck.

Warren finally stopped moving, grimacing ever so slightly when her fingers traced said marks. Layla closed her eyes briefly, undoing one of her bracelets to set it on the table with trembling fingers and, under Warren’s surprised eyes, one of the beads grew into a plant.

So that was how she was doing it at Save the Citizen? Well, shit. He had never even noticed her doing that, and yet he paid very close attention to her when she was playing.

He watched her cutting leaves and pushing some sort of ointment in her hands before raising them towards his neck. He caught her wrists before she could do anything. She was shaking in a way he had never seen of her. She barely tried to fight him before breaking down into tears.

“Hey, hey,” he said, trying to hide his discomfort at seeing her cry. “I’m fine. I’m okay.” He didn’t know what to do with this. His hands travelled on her arms to settle on her shoulders, attempting to carry out his emotions and his reassurance that way.

“Stop saying that!” she protested between sobs. “You’re not!” Even now, as he was trying to comfort her — when she should be the one doing the comforting, dammit! — she could tell his voice was hoarse, that it had a hard time coming out.

She hated it.

He allowed her to cry for a moment, before she could regain her usual control. Sniffing, but her hands still again, she moved once more and this time, he let her take care of his neck, her soft hands and the fresh whatever-that-was soothing his skin.

“Aren’t you giving out some precious informations to the opposite team?” he tried to joke, pointing at the plant on the table.

Layla chuckled through her tears.

“Stop trying to make me feel better, Warren,” she said softly. “I know I fucked up.”

He rose an eyebrow at her cursing, and his hands tentatively went to her waist, slipping under her shirt and brushing against her skin. She drew in a shivering breath and let him pull her closer, standing between his legs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when he put his forehead against her.

“’s okay, hippie. I know you didn’t mean to do that.”

“But it’s not okay, Warren,” she sighed. “I don’t want to hurt people. Ever.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want it to happen again.”

This time, Warren didn’t say anything, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on top of hers.

“Yeah, I know that too. But it’s not a bad thing, to know your limits. We all have to find them, here. It means you know where you still have work to do. Even for you, there’ll always be things you have a hard time doing.”

Layla let herself relax against his broad, warm chest. She felt guilty for letting herself be comforted when he was the one who had just been hurt, and she could only guess he was talking of experience. Except that his fire would do much more lasting damage than her plants — or, well, than the ones she was carrying on herself in general.

There was still so much she didn’t know about him.

So much she wanted to know.

Warren kissed her forehead.

She smiled.

Then he moved to her closed eyes. Then to her cheeks. And then, finally, he kissed her. He was always behaving with such restraint, when he started kissing her, like he was afraid he would burn himself.

Or like he would burn her…

She kept the kiss soft and gentle, following his jawline with her fingertips, but wasn’t too surprised when he pulled away with a grunt, refusing to look at her as a blush spread on his face, obvious even under his tanned skin. She knew it was her tenderness, her kindness that got to him the most.

She had to admit, she kind of liked it.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

His dark eyes met hers. “I told you, I’m fine. It’s not the first fight I lose.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Warren.”

He smiled. She wasn’t going to let go of that, was she? “Apology accepted, hippie.”

She leaned in to kiss him again, this time with more passion, more heat, pressing herself closer to him. He groaned against her mouth, running his fingers through her hair as he put his hand on her lower back possessively.

The kiss was brief though, because as soon as she opened her mouth against his, Warren pulled away, panting.

“Not now. Someone could come in.”

Layla sighed, but nodded. It had seemed like a good idea, at first, this secret relationship. She knew how much people could pry in someone else’s life when it was none of their business, and she wasn’t exactly impatient to hear people calling her a whore for being with someone other than Will.

She suspected that wasn’t Warren’s idea though, suspected that he didn’t want her facing accusations for being with him — school’s bad guy, villain in the making. She hoped he at least knew how much she didn’t care. One day, she would have to convince him about that.

Today wasn’t the day though.

She kissed him one last time, squeezed his hand gently, then slipped out of the room.

Warren watched her intently, then closed his eyes once she had gotten out. His throat almost didn’t hurt anymore, but that wasn’t all the healing Layla did on him. There was so much she was making better just by being there. Just by accepting to be by his side.

He had no right to make her face any problem for being with him, he was well aware of that. But she made him want to be selfish. So he would enjoy this as long as he could, as long as it lasted.

Until the inevitable moment when he would have to let go of her.

#sky high #layla williams #warren peace #warren x layla #my writing

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