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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

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-Potter’s Sister- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Request: Helloooo, I've got a super cliché request but if you're up to do it , great! So I like the idea of Draco secretly dating Harry's younger sister and Harry finding out about this in the worst way possible lol like them in a really compromising situation and he instantly becoming an overprotective jealous brother. That's it! Hope you like it. Have a great day💕

Kody- lmao i’m going to have a blast with this one. Also, Tumblr wont let me reply at the moment so i’ll make due doing request like this

Warning: Harry being Harry, Cursing, Draco being a possessive child.

House: Gryffindor

♡~🐍~♡

“Ron slow down, your going to choke!” Hermione shouts. The ginger rolled his eyes and continued eating. You laugh softly and go to pick up your fork when you spot a certain platinum blond Slytherin get up from his table and walk straight out the great hall.

you place your fork down and look at the three “I have to use the bathroom” you say and Harry instantly looks up from his plate. “Oh okay, are you feeling alright?” he questions, a worried glance on his face. You nod, smiling slightly and stand up.

“Perfectly fine. Just need to use the bathroom” you reply, tugging on a stand of your hair. You walk away from the table and out the great hall. Harry watches you for a moment before facing his friends “Your right Hermione. She was lying to me”

“How can you tell?” Ron asked, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve. The chosen boy frowns slightly “She tugs on her hair when she does.” he explains and Ron nods slowly, understanding. They sit quietly for a couple seconds before Hermione hits the table, catching there attention.

“Well!? Go follow her!” she instructs, waving towards the great hall exit. Harry nods quickly and stands up in a rush “R-Right!” he stammers out and quickly leaves.

♡~🐍~♡

a tap of your footsteps was the only thing you could hear in the empty hallway. You kept glancing around making sure you didn’t see anybody you knew. You had to be sneaky when meeting up with your secret boyfriend. Months of secrecy was not getting ruined because you were excited.

ah yes. You. Y/n Potter, were dating your brothers enemy. Draco Malfoy. It started months ago when Neville Longbottom had told you that your idiot of a brother started a fight with Draco in the courtyard and he turned it physical. You told Neville to lead you to the fight and he agreed.

running with your fellow Gryffindor, you begin to hear shouting. Students cheering the words ‘Malfoy’ ‘Potter’ and ‘fight’. Bloody hell. You walk into the courtyard and saw a group of people huddled around and rush towards them, pushing past multiple students.

in the middle, you clearly see Harry on top of Draco, hitting him in the face. You stand there in horror for a couple seconds, before rushing over. You grab your brother and yank him off the Slytherin boy. “What the hell is wrong with you Harry!?” you shout. He looks at you with pure shame in his eyes.

you look down at Draco and hold out your hand. He looks at you for a moment, almost like he was evaluating you “I’m not going to hit you if that’s what you think, Malfoy” you said and Draco grins slightly before grabbing your hand, using it to pull himself up.

you look up at him. He had a busted lip and a bruised eye. Damn, HArry really did a number on him. You let go of his hand and reach into your pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Reaching up to his face, he leans back “What the hell are you doing?” he questions a bit harshly.

“You have blood on your face” You explain, but he still seems hesitant. You sigh and hold out the piece of cloth for him “Then you do it” Draco shakes his head slowly and shrugs “I can’t even see it, so you can do it” You just give him a nod and reach up, wiping the blood of his lip.

a small contact sended sparks through the both of you and after that. Draco would always find a way to see you. Making small excuses and just study your everyday habits. You being the nice person you were, you gave him the time of day and you genuinely liked talking to him.

feelings developed over time, but once hArry found out about your guys friendship. He forced you to end it, but when you told Draco about it. He said to meet him at the astronomy tower one last time and that’s where he confessed to you and you two had been together ever since.

♡~🐍~♡

as you near the last few steps, you rush up quickly to see your Slytherin boyfriend leaning against the railing. His face lighting up as he sees you “I knew you would come” he speaks first and you smile, walking over to him. “I haven’t seen you in a week. I missed you”

he smiles at your words and wraps his arms around your waist “Aw you missed me. How sweet” he teases. You roll your eyes and look up at the taller boy “Such a narcissist” you tease back and he pouts. “But you love me still, right?”

you smile warmly at Draco and nod “Yes i still love you” your words seem to be exactly what he wanted to hear because he leaned his head down towards you “There is one thing i missed most about you” he whispers and you can’t help but grin “and that is?” you questioned. Already knowing the answer.

he smirks against the skin of your ear “The feel of your mouth of mine of course, love” your body shudders as the Slytherin backed you up into the wall. He smirks at your shocked expression before smashing his lips onto yours. Responding instantly, you kiss back.

you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on the hairs on the back of his neck. A groan left your boyfriend as he pulled you closer to him. “Get the hell of my sister, Malfoy!” Draco was yanked off of you and thrown back, leaving you frozen in shock.

Draco stands up quickly and scowls at your brother “Ever heard of privacy, Potter!?” he spat and Harry scoffed “You were snogging my sister, so no offense but fuck your privacy! How dare you take advantage of her!?”

“Take advantage of her?! You need to get your fucking eyes checked because she was kissing me back dumbass!” Draco retorts, crossing his arms. Harry’s head snapped to you and gave you a questioning look “Is it true?” you nod slowly “He’s my boyfriend Harry. Has been for months”

Harry looked away from you and shook his head “He’s the enemy Y/n!” he shouts and you roll your eyes “He’s your enemy Harry! Your problem. Draco has been nothing. but nice to me!” Harry didn’t seem to believe your answer and grabbed your arm.

“We’re leaving and you two are never going to see each other again!” Harry tries to drag you out, but you fight back “Ow! Harry you’re hurting me!” You shout and Draco takes immediate action. Grabbing your body and tugging you away from your brother.

he holds you close to him and looks at your arm, checking the damage “That’s going to leave a nasty bruise, love” Draco whispers sadly and you frown. Draco snapped his head towards the Gryffindor with a deadly glare. If looks could kill, Draco would never need the killing curse.

“Look what you fucking did! Get over yourself, Potter! I may not like you in the slightest, but i love Y/n. So for her sake, shove off!” Draco didn’t let the boy get a word in before he lead you out of the astronomy tower.

♡~🐍~♡

it had been days since you spoke to your brother. You were so pissed at him and had avoided him at every turn. After the incident in the astronomy tower Draco made your relationship public and most people seemed okay with it. Except for a few choice people.

“I can’t believe she’s sitting with him” Ron comments, looking over at the sight of you at the Slytherin table chatting it up with Draco. “How could someone as sweet as her love such a monster” he adds. Harry nods agreement.

“oh my merlin. Both of you shut up. You don’t choose who you fall in love with. It happens and Harry you have clearly upset and injured your sister and need to apologize for being such a insufferable jerk! ” Hermione shouts, earning a few side glances from other stdents.

Harry nods quickly and stands up “y-yes ma’am!” he stutters and walks off. Ron watches with a horrified look before turning to Hermione “you really are quite scary” all Hermione does is smile sweetly.

♡~🐍~♡

Draco has been leaning into your ear and whispering very inappropriate things in your ear all lunch and squeezing your thigh “You are such a perv Draco Malfoy” you mumble, meeting his gaze and he smirks widely “Only for you” he mutters back and leans in to kiss your lips.

“Ew” a voice says behind you two. You pull away and your E/c eyes are meant with your Harry. You sigh deeply at the sight “Wow thanks Harry” you say sarcastically. “Here to assault her again, Potter?” Draco scoffs, making his friends laugh.

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck “I may not understand how you could ever like him, but after watching from the sidelines for a few days i know he makes you happy and i’m so fucking sorry for hurting your arm. I wasn’t thinking straight and i hope you can forgive me” he says giving you a smile.

“I’m also willing to try to get along with Malfoy. If he does too” Harry adds and faces your boyfriend who sighs before holding out his hand “For Y/n. Anything” Harry smiles and shakes his hand.

“My two boys getting along, how cute”

♡~🐍~♡

Kody- Hope you enjoyed. Requests are open btw. Anyways, peace.

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x reader #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #potterhead #fanfic #fanfiction

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rhenuvee · 4 years

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The Heart in You (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to be a turtle when using Tumblr bc I’m new? My dumbass couldn’t find the delete button- dEaDaSs cLoWnErY right here.

Summary: Both you and Fred are known to have a playful type of rivalry, and none of you two want to be the first to ‘be nice’ to the other. But one day he starts acting weird, and you start feeling bad.

Warnings: swearing :0

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

——————————

Yours and Fred’s rivalry was known to almost everyone in Hogwarts.

You were sort of friends, sure. You had most classes with each other, and sat next to him in Charms. You weren’t always a jumpy type of person, in fact before Fred started annoying you, you were quite shy. You couldn’t bother to remember when the bickering started.

He called you names, stole your belongings, bumped into you purposely in the halls, and now blocked your way when getting out of class. And the worst part, he did it all with that stupidly attractive smile of his. Merlin, how silly did you have to be to be distracted by someone where only their smile could make your knees go weak?

Fifteen seconds left...

It was almost like the clock was giving you anxiety.

“Class...” started Professor Snape with his slow, dramatic tone of voice. You didn’t want to give Snape the impression that you hated his class, but just this once, you had to be the first one to exit. You moved your leg slightly out of the seat, and your hand gripped your bag tightly, swung over your shoulder.

“... dismissed-”

You dashed for the door immediately, and rather sloppily, probably broke or crumpled up things in your bag, but you didn’t care. To your dismay, you collided with a tall, red headed, figure, smiling right down at you.

“Nice try princess.” You looked up to lock your gaze with none other than Fred. His smirk met with your scowl.

“Fred stop blocking my way!” You protested, trying to push him out of the way. Sadly, with his years playing as beater, it didn’t take much force for him to use his arms and stay in place.

He used his tall stature to block the doorway of the classroom, with his arm stretched out so you couldn’t get out. This wasn’t a first, in fact, you lost count a few weeks ago. He made you late to quite a few classes and meals.

A few students exiting gave both of you weird looks, and most treating it as if this wasn’t the first time this happened- because well, it wasn’t.

“Come on lovebirds, there’s plenty more time at lunch to flirt.” said George. He too seemed tired of your bullshit as he leaned on the wall outside of the class. You huffed as you fixed yourself up, and made an ugly face at Fred. He in turn made a kissy face back at you, which made you rush out the door, with your face flushed red.

That annoying jerk, you thought, he always knew how to get to you. But he wasn’t done with you yet. You made your way to the Gryffindor table and sat across from Angelina. The twins as usual, came bouncing in right behind you and sat next to you, one on each side.

“You know love, if you kept making that face it might get stuck like that.” He said leaning with his elbow on the table. “Oh and how would you know that hm? Is it because it happened to you?” you shot back. But deep inside you knew that wasn’t true- it was the last thing his face would be, he was gorgeous. George ooed at your statement and Angelina rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Liar liar as always (y/n), when will you admit that you’re mad for me.” he said cheekily. Of course he had something to say back that would make your face red. “Another day...” sighs Angelina resting her hand on her forehead.

-----

Your body tensed when Professor McGonagall asked everyone to find partners to practise dancing. None of the boys seemed willing to get up from their seat, who would want to practise with you, let alone ask you to the ball?

“C’mon let’s go.” said Angelina taking your hand and leading you to the twins. Oh no, not them, not Fred...

“George would you like to practise with me?” Angelina asked. “Yeah, sure.” replied George before winking to you and Fred. You stood there frozen with your brows furrowed, how could they?

“Well, let’s get to it darling.” he said. “Tch, whatever.” you muttered turning away from his gaze, and getting slightly hotter when he put his one hand on your waist and the other linked with your hand.

You kept looking back at McGonagall, trying to follow her steps, and also down at your feet a lot. To be honest, you didn’t want to meet Fred’s eyes. A few minutes later, you realized he hadn’t said anything or teased you at all. You slowly lifted your head to see what was up.

You were surprised to see his head was also down, looking at his feet. He looked up when he felt your gaze, but instead of his usual smirk and flirty one-liner, you were met with an expression you haven’t seen. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, cheeks with a tiny bit of pink, and eyes filled with... confusion, or concern?

“Sorry love, I almost stepped on your foot there.” he said sheepishly. This was new. You weren’t sure if he was playing or being genuine. “It’s okay.” you reply quietly, unsure of his behaviour.

Midway through the lesson, you could count the number of times he said “Sorry” or “My apologies darling.” It was quite a lot of times, and the weirdest part was that he seemed truly sorry for accidentally stepping on you a few times. You appreciated that he apologized, but this was strange. When Professor McGonagall announced that the dance lesson was finished, you both sighed, and just stood there for an awkward moment.

“Reckon whoever’s going to the ball with me will have an interesting dance.” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah...” you said softly.

“So how was it?” asked George as he and Angelina came over from their spot. “Couldn’t really get it...” replied Fred looking down at his hands. Was he... embarrassed?

Suddenly you felt a little guilty for spurting insults at him earlier, and for hitting him in the arm with your books, and calling him names. Yes, he had done the same too, but it wasn’t like someone as confident as him to get embarrassed and shy. You hoped that it wasn’t your continuous back and forth that made him feel worse of himself.

---

This weird behaviour continued into the next week. People around you were shocked to see you both dialed down at least 50%. You hated to admit it, but you secretly missed the playful banter you had with him.

The Yule Ball was coming closer, and you still didn’t have a date. “Go with Fred.” said Angelina casually. “Are you joking?” you asked.

“Oh? And I thought you both calmed down and finally admitted your feelings to each other.” You groaned at her statement. Alicia and Katie came over. “(Y/n), why can’t you see that he fancies you too?” asked Katie.

“W-well even if he does, I don’t think he does anymore...” you said timidly. “He’ll probably say yes anyway (y/n).” said Alicia reassuring you.

You pursed your lips. They knew you liked him, and you hated that. You were a girl who rivalled against him, both competing for a better argument and the last word. You were told constantly that he flirted with you because he fancied you. Some of your retorts you admit might’ve been a bit much, so why would he like you after all that?

---

The next day, you walked in the Charms classroom with a weird feeling in your stomach. You felt even weirder when Fred plopped himself down, and put his stuff down on the floor of his side? Usually he dropped his belongings smack in the middle, invading your space, claiming he needed ‘more room for his long limbs’, and that you could spare a bit of your space.

“Not going to put your stuff here?” you asked. “Didn’t want to disturb you.” he said before turning back to Professor Flitwick.You could tell that he didn’t sound his best, when he said that. But still, shouldn’t he be busy kicking you under the table, or looking over at your parchment?

---

“Fred!” you shouted a little too loudly as you tried to catch up with him after class ended. He turned around and walked back over to you, before waving to his twin telling him he’ll be there later. Your heart already started beating faster.

“Um, a-are you okay?” you asked. Well, that was a bit too general wasn’t it. “Course, why wouldn’t I be?” he smiled at you, until he went back to looking down at his feet, his hair covering part of his face so you couldn’t see it. Now you really felt sorry, you didn’t know what caused him to act less energetic, less loud, less of himself, but you didn’t want to be one of the sources.

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that you were going to hex the girls if this went wrong. “Please (y/n), we wouldn’t want to go without you!” the girls voices from the other day rang in your head.

“I-I was wondering... if you wanted to go to the Yule ball with me..?” you asked shyly. “Hm?” he hummed, not looking up.

“Would you like to... gototheYuleballwithme?” you said the last part rather quickly, almost a whisper so no one in the hall could hear you. Your face was beet red, scared to face Fred’s reaction.

...

“Knew you would give in darling.” he said brushing the hair out of his face and smirking at you. The familiar fiery hot boiling feeling began to rise from within you, and unfortunately to your face. “And I would love to go with you.” he said.

“Wh- I- FRED!!” you yelled out of anger and embarrassment. “Always knew you had a heart in you, was just waiting for when you’d show it-” “FRED WEASLEY, YOU’RE SUCH AN ASS!” you yelled frustrated.

“Aw, it’s okay (y/n), I mean- hey! You there! Guess who asked me to the Yule ball!” he said tapping a random person on the shoulder. “Fred-” “In fact- EVERYONE! GUESS WHO JUST ASKED ME TO THE YULE BALL-”

“FRED!” you said hitting him in the arm. He was too busy laughing his ass off to feel the pain of your hit. “I hate you.” you hissed, as he calmed down. “I think you’re cute too.” he said sweetly.

“All that ‘sadness’ since the dance practice for the ball was all an act?” you asked frowning. “Well, I wouldn’t call it sadness. But since you said so- I’m feeling a lot better now that you think I’m handsome.”

“I didn’t say-“

“See you at the ball, love.” he said bringing his hand softly to the side of your neck to kiss you on the cheek. You froze with your eyes wide. You were ashamed to say that your mind kept replaying the moment. A few seconds later, your mind snapped back to reality, and started going after Fred.

“F-Fred! You can’t just randomly do things like that! Come back here!” you yelled as he too started running. Both your voices echoed in the distance. George and Angelina saw as the two of you rushed by the entrance of the great hall, up to your usual chase.

“How long until you think they get married?” asked Angelina to George.

“Tomorrow.”

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Link to pt 2: Here

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction

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specs-and-capelets · 3 years

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i’ve posted this before on my other account, but i deleted it and— well, i was just too lazy to put it out again. so— why not i put this here for content?

uhh this is on ao3 too, so if u stumble upon it, it’s published by my account :)

prompt: logan’s an idiot at writing love letters and asked janus for his help

—

It was just another usual day at the Mind Palace. Well, slightly unusual, perhaps, Janus concluded. It is rare of him to be so deep into reading while being outside of his room.

The air was crisp and his current spot was perfectly warm, located on the couch at the Commons, where sunlight shone from the opened window, a mercy and reward from the cold morning Janus went through earlier. It was the perfect time to read outside of his room. There’s no disturbance from the other sides on this time around. Roman and Remus were deep in the Imagination now, probably at each other’s throats, Virgil’s alone in his room, most definitely on Tumblr, and Patton’s outside in the garden, enjoying the day. Yes, it’s certainly the best time of the day to read right here, Janus thought with a slight smile in his lips.

Anyway, it was a just a slightly different day than usual, but still a usual day nonetheless.

Footsteps suddenly emerged from the hallway, slightly disturbing the quietness of the Commons. Janus’ eyes teared away from the words of the book, tensing, like a predator sensing an enemy approaching. Tap, tap, tap, the footsteps sounded. It’s a familiar rhythm, Janus realized, relaxing, his eyes going back to the book.

Logic came into his view not a moment later, most of his body obscured by the book in Janus’ hand. The logical side stopped when he saw him, eyes perking up at the sight of the lying side. Oh? Janus half-expected Logan to greet him or say something first, but he seemed to be hesitating, the words uncharacteristically stuck in Logan’s throat.

“Janus,” Logan greeted after a moment, hands subconsciously playing with the edge of his tie.

Janus lowered his book, meeting Logan’s eyes. “Ah, Logan.” The smirk on his lips was automatic. “Greetings. I definitely did not see you there.”

The tension melted slightly from Logan’s body, the logical side shaking his head at Janus obvious lie. “Of course you didn’t,” He replied sarcastically, but the tone immediately died as he spoke again, “Are you-“ Logan cleared his throat, looking at the floor. “Are you, perhaps, busy at the current moment?”

Janus noted the nervous energy Logan seemed to be radiating, his eyebrow raising up in silent acknowledgment. The snake was intrigued, what is this all about? “I’m sure this book could wait.”

“Ah, if that’s the case then-“ He paused shortly. “I need your— input. Regarding a certain matter.” Logan looked slightly uncomfortable and fidgety as he forced the words out, anxiously waiting for Janus’ reply.

It’s unusual to see Logan so nervous, Janus thought inside his head, not sure wether to be delighted at the sight, or be also be anxious himself about the impending question, because Logan and nervous rarely went together. Well, the most nervous Janus had ever witnessed, anyway.

“Ah, of course,” Janus answered coolly, setting down the book he was unconsciously gripping. “Certainly do not ask away, Logan.”

There’s a slight hesitance in his voice, a pause, a flicker of doubt in his eyes before the logical side started talking again, “What is, in your opinion, the best way to write a love letter?”

What?

“Pardon me, a love letter?” Janus asked, incredulous. Had he he misheard him earlier? Surely that must be the case. Logan couldn’t possibly be asking him about love letters.

“Yes,” Logan clarified as he looked at Janus straight in the eye. “A love letter, that is correct.”

“You’re asking me-“ Janus pointed at himself, still incredulous. “On how to write a love letter?”

“That’s right,” Logan answered again, mouth twisting, his expression falling grim as he looked away. “If you’re uncomfortable on answering, then that is fine-“

“No,” Janus cut him off before he could finish the sentence. He sent Logan an apologetic look, not even bothering at all to hide his look of surprise and bewilderment at the question. “Apologies, I just— I’m definitely not surprised you decided to ask me about that.”

Logan huffed out a laugh at that, which also caused Janus grin slightly. “I, too, am surprised at myself as well.”

“This is more of Patton’s field pf expertise,” Janus continued, looking up at Logan, expression still displaying his look of surprise. “Why not ask him? Or Roman, both of them are better at this than I’ll ever be.”

“I already asked them both about this,” Logan answered, then he made a look. “Patton’s suggestions are not... terrible, per se. He told me to write, I quote, ‘my heart out.’ Write it my own way and avoid holding back any details, especially regarding my— ah- feelings. Do not filter my ‘feelings of love’ for the recipient. But it is far too emotional for my taste.” Logan then rolled his eyes fondly as he continued, “As for Roman, his approach is more fanciful. He suggested that I should write a love poem or a sonnet or something else in a similar fashion. He told me to— woo the recipient.”

Janus snorted at that. Logan and love sonnets? Maybe, but really out of character. “I definitely can’t see how that doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes, exactly.” Logan made an appreciative gesture, smiling slightly at Janus. The snake side found himself smiling back, and oh, what a nice smile he had there. Logan continued, “I also asked Virgil for his opinion on the matter. His answer is, and I quote, ‘Ya should just wing it, Lo, we both know we’re terrible at this.’”

Janus found himself laughing at Logan’s impression. Oh god, isn’t Logan adorable, he thought fondly. It’s not like he’s going to say it out loud, of course. “How about Remus?”

Logan only gave Janus a look.

Janus cringed at his mistake. Of course. Asking Remus would be a disaster. “Yes, you’re right. Terrible idea.”

“And that leaves you, Janus,” Logan continued. “I actually believe you’ll give the best advice out of all of them here, as I see you’re not too emotional nor too dramatic in things like this.”

But aren’t things like this are always emotional and dramatic? “I am certainly not flattered you’d think that my advice’ll be the best, but I.. do not doubt that I can give you something- satisfying,” Deceit replies quietly, giving Logan a weak grin.

Logan sighed softly, something flashing in his eyes that Janus couldn’t quite decipher. “Janus, for this past year, I believe we have gotten quite close. You’re more than capable of giving people good advices, and I’m confident to say that since I experienced it firsthand.” He trailed off, something soft blooming in his eyes. “Please, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

The snake side blinked, surprised and touched at Logan’s statement, and he hoped to god he’s not blushing right now.

“Do not blame me if it’s not satisfactory,” He hissed, adjusting his position as he think. “Patton told you to write it in your way, correct? That may be good, but I think you should try writing what the- ah— recipient would like to read.

“Present the letter in the way the recipient would like best,” He explained. “That way, in my opinion, at least, they’ll notice the thought and effort you put for going out of your comfortable zone and write the letter in a manner you’re unfamiliar with.”

Logan nodded, absorbing Deceit’s explanation. “I see.”

“Be humble. Be sentimental. Try to flatter the recipient while also being true and sincere,” Janus added.

Logan hummed, seemingly pondering about something, eyes flickering back to Janus. “If you— hypothetically receive a love letter from someone, what do you wish to find in the letter?”

Janus snorted. “An explanation to why that person deemed me worthy of love, that’s for certain.”

“Are you being serious?” Logan asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Janus, you know that you are, in fact, worthy of love, right? Everyone else here and I love you and care about you, you shouldn’t hesitate to ask us for clarification whenever you’re feeling-“ He pulled out his flash cards from seemingly out of nowhere, picking out one from the pile and reading it. “—not so gucci with yourself.”

“Of course I know that, Lo,” Janus answered, his voice a tad bit louder than earlier. “I just- uh- I’d definitely appreciate if the hypothetical person explained it in the hypothetical letter,” He explained, out of breath for some reason.

Logan gave him a look, but thankfully, he dropped it off, nodding gratefully at Janus. “I think I have enough information to start writing on my own.” He smiled at him. “Thank you for your input, Janus.”

“Yeah,“ Deceit croaked out, feeling faint. “Of course.”

He watched Logan leave, watched as his back disappeared again into the hallway, making sure the other was completely out of sight before slumping his body further in the couch, covering his face with a hand. He sighed deeply, feeling sadness, bitterness, and regret overtaking him in one big wave.

It’s over, he thought. He had his chance, but he never took it.

Logan’s in love with someone else.

—

Janus liked Logan.

He really, really liked him. He couldn’t pin point exactly when it started, but he remembered it being somewhere when Thomas was in college, back when people called him Deceit, where Janus would find Logan up in the latest of nights and earliest of days as he studied alongside Thomas. The times when Janus witnessed Logan finally getting a break, in a form of passing out on the couch in the Commons, relaxed and so, so soft for someone so rigid. As Janus stared at the sleeping side one night, he realized just how much he had done for Thomas, for them. Janus was extremely grateful for that, and he couldn’t help but to fall in love a little deeper.

He may not show it, pressing his feelings down on his chest and continued on his Disney villain charade, but from the start, he cared deeply for the other sides and had an.. extremely fond feelings for the logical side.

Logan, who’s fierce and passionate about facts and knowledge, who won’t hesitate to correct what is wrong and prove what is right, who constantly seek to improve himself. Logan, who’s also kind and caring and understanding in his own way, softer under that hard, stubborn shell of his. Logan, who’s intelligent, who glowed brightly as he mused about the secrets of the universe and talked on and on about biology, philosophy, astronomy, practically every piece of knowledge he studied, and anything and everything in between.

Janus had always been attracted to intelligence, and god, Logan was absolutely gorgeous.

As the years past, Janus’ attraction to the logical side only grew along with their interactions. Polite smiles and curt nods as they walked pass each other turned into greetings and small talks. Small talks about jams and books turned into debates on philosophy and society. And then, they became closer, sharing tea and thoughts together inside the privacy of Logan’s room. Slowly, as their fondness for each other grew, Logan let his guard down around Deceit. He witnessed his private smiles, witnessed his soft laughs, witnessed his tears.

And as the years past, in silence, Janus liked him more and more.

He didn’t pursue it, ultimately pressing down his romantic feelings towards the other side securely in his chest, hoping that it won’t see the light of day. He thought, at first, that maybe if he just ignored it all, the feelings would all go away. Truly a classic way to not deal with anything, really. He didn’t want to cause Logan more problems than he already had, seeing as the nerd wasn’t entirely attuning to his own emotions. He’s also a liar, a deceitful snake, a bad guy in their host’s eyes. Would Logan want that to be his partner? Sure, they may hang out a lot, but would Logan let him in that far?

But then Virgil got accepted, and then him and Remus followed right after. The tension that grew between Light and Dark, as Roman dubbed it, finally subsided. Everything’s better now. Perhaps not perfect, but clearly a lot more better than before. Still, Janus never confessed. He’s still afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of pain. Afraid to destroy the friendship that they had.

So Janus kept quiet, kept going through his days as he silently pined. And now? It’s too late. Logan now had his eyes on someone, and it’s definitely not Janus who’s going to be at the receiving end of the love letter.

It hurt, knowing someone you loved so much for a long time was going to confess to someone else.

At least, Janus concluded, Logan’s happy. And that’s all that truly matters in the end, isn’t it?

—

“Janus!”

It was the day after Logan asked him about love letters. Janus still half expected it to be a dream or some kind of vivid image his brain came up when he spaced out. But no, it really did happened, and it still haven’t failed to baffle him.

Janus was just heading to the kitchen to get something to drink as he waited for breakfast, but Logan’s voice calling out to him stopped him in his tracks, his head looking back automatically to see Logan walking up from behind.

“Logan,” Janus greeted, his mismatched eyes scanning the logical side. He looked— messier than usual. His hair uncharacteristically ruffled in a careless manner, slightly dark circles around his eyes and he looked... not very awake at the moment, which was highly unlike him. “You look positively good, Logan, it looks like you slept well earlier.”

Logan flushed slightly at Janus words. “I was rather occupied the entire night.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Love letter?”

Logan nodded slightly. “Yes, that is correct.” He cleared his throat. “I have a question to ask you again, if you do not mind answering.”

He’s still on about that? Janus mentally asked, feeling a twinge of annoyance, and maybe a tad jealous. Maybe. It’s not finished? Who is he writing to? What’s taking him so long?

But instead of voicing all that, Deceit only put on a grin, as usual. “Of course, Specs-tacularly Nerdy.” He internally cringed at the nickname. He blamed Roman and his tendency to give everyone ridiculous nicknames.

Logan only rolled his eyes at Janus’ nickname for him. “Various sources suggested to use terms of endearment in addressing the recipient,” Logan said, tilting his head slightly. “Such as ‘My Dearest’ or ‘Beloved’ and other similar to that.”

Janus automatically faked gagged, his hands giving a disapproving gesture. “That definitely does suit you perfectly. You sound perfectly in character using that, Logan. If it were for me, I wouldn’t feel unsettled.”

“Ah, is that so?” Logan grinned at him, and something inside Janus’ chest swelled with affection. Shit. “Fantastic. Thank you again for your opinion, Janus.”

And with that, Logan turn around and ran back to his room, blissfully oblivious about Janus’ internal turmoil, the snake side letting out the breath he was holding as a blush spread on his face.

—

It kept Janus up at night, tossing and turning on his bed, wondering who the hell caught Logan’s affection.

Is it Patton? They both do have some sort of opposites attract kind of dynamic between them. The Heart and The Brain; Patton and Logan. Patton quite obviously adored Logan and the logical side, not so obviously, cared about the fatherly side as well. But wether it’s romantic or merely platonic, Janus was not sure which was true. They hug, they sometimes cuddle on the couch at movie nights, but it’s not enough for him to know that they’re into each-other, or at least, he couldn’t see if Logan was into Patton.

Is it Roman? They had this rivalry dynamic and tension between them. Janus knew better, himself had heard both sides of their opinions towards one another, both holding the other in high regard, respect, and admiration. Because in the end, they both only wanted what’s best for Thomas, and after setting aside their arguments and making some sort of truce, they worked extremely well together. Past all the bickering and arguing and disagreements, they’re very compatible.

Is it Virgil, our resident stormy cloud? They shared many moments together in peaceful quietness as they enjoy each other’s company. When Virgil had his episodes of panic, he’d fall to Logan as the logical side knew the best way to calm him down. They both had deep trust in each other that Janus was honestly jealous of. The left brains of the group. The storm and the grounding earth.

Janus suddenly sat up, realizition whacking him on his head, but Logan had asked them all for advice. Who asks their own love interest advice on how to ask them out? That’s ridiculous. So, the only side Logan didn’t ask was—

Remus. Remus ‘Creativity’ Sanders himself. Janus-

Janus could see them working out. The brain cell and the chaotic madman together. After Remus’ first debut to Thomas, they started talking more, as Remus finally found someone new to grace his presence with and annoy the hell out of. Logan battled Remus’ morbidity with deadpans and indifference, and in the end, they ended up as friends. He was glad that he was spared a little from Remus’ chaos, and that he found someone new to hang out with other than Janus.

It could be Remus, Janus solemnly concluded. With a sigh, he laid back on his bed, thinking why in all hell he’s worked up about this.

Whoever it is, Janus was happy if Logan’s happy. Yeah. He’s totally not sad about that, not at all. And if they broke Logan’s heart? He’s going to strangle them to death.

—

It had been a week since Logan’s last question and nothing noticeable happened ever since.

Sure, they meet up at every once in a while, but Logan never told him his progress regarding the love letter. Did Logan gave the letter already? Was he planning to keep quiet about his new partner? Or was the letter still unfinished?

Janus got his answer late at night.

He was just getting out to get some midnight snacks; a habit he and Virgil seemed to share, apparently. When he entered the Commons to get to the kitchen, he’s surprised to find the television on, illuminating the dark room. The volume was very small, almost muted. There’s a figure slumped on the couch, seemingly watching the documentary show on the tv.

“Logan?” Janus called out, surprised to find the logical trait and not Virgil.

Logan’s head snapped towards Janus’ direction, eyes wide in surprise. “Jan?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping,” Janus scolded quietly, making his way towards the other side. “What would Thomas do without his logic in maximum condition?”

Logan didn’t answer, choosing only to stare at Janus in silence. The snake side raised an eyebrow at his stare.

“How can I make sure that my letter are going to be receive well?” Logan suddenly asked.

Of course. Perhaps that’s why he’s been postponing to send the letter. He’s afraid.

Janus quietly made his way and sat down next to Logan, making himself comfortable as the other watched him. He made a soft sigh before finally meetinh Logan’s gaze, and in the dark, he could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes, making Janus’ chest swelled with sympathy.

“There’s no magic formula for this matter,” Janus answered quietly. “Or, scientific formula. Or any formula at all. All you can do is be sincere with your feelings and— Well- hope that whoever it is reciprocates.”

Logan pursed his lips, eyes downcast. “I’m insane aren’t I to ask again and hope that I’ll get a different answer?”

“Perhaps.”

They fell quiet after that, Janus’ quest for a midnight snack long forgotten in favor of spending time with Logan in the darkness of the room, and in the darkness of the night.

In the morning, the others found them on the couch, asleep, with their legs tangled together, Janus’ arm behind Logan’s back and the logical side’s head resting on the deceitful side’s chest. Their backs and limbs may hurt when they woke up, but the warm feeling of waking up next to Logan was definitely worth it for Janus.

—

There’s a blue envelope sitting on Janus doorstep one morning.

The first thing Janus felt after he registered what he’s seeing was indeed there, was utter disbelief and bewilderment that the letter was intended to him. On his doorstep. Then he thought that maybe his twisted brain decided to play tricks on him and present him with this sick hallucination.

But when Janus bent down and picked up the envelope, it’s solid and real between his gloved fingers, so he’s not hallucinating, that means it’s really there. On the other side of the letter, written neat and precise, was his name, Janus.

So it really was for him.

He brought himself and the letter inside his room, still in disbelief that the letter— Logan’s letter was for him. Him. He marched towards his bed, his eyes still glued at the letter as he sat down on his bed.

Janus opened the letter gingerly, taking his time and mentally preparing himself. He could hear the beating of his heart in his ears, his chest filled with anticipation and a sense of disbelief when he finally pulled the paper out of the envelope. He took a deep breath before bringing the paper into eye level, and finally, reading it.

Janus,

I am writing to you this letter in hopes to convey my feelings for you that I couldn’t bear myself to do face-to-face. It may be cliche of me, but the idea of using a love letter seemed perfect at the time and far less daunting than the idea of stating it directly and verbally.

I believe I started to realize my feelings for you was when we increased the number of times we would ‘hang out,’ as the others would say. I was rather busy at that time, but I found myself that I didn’t mind to cut my work time in order to spend more time with you. It baffled me at first. I’m not the kind to pick interacting rather than working, but I find that you are the only exception. Then I started to think deeper about this.

I found that I am unaccountably fond of your smile, your laugh, your presence, and I wish to see you and be with you everyday. I fell in love with your intelligence, with your wit and your snark, with your sarcasm and your charm. And as we got even closer, I fell in love with your passion for psychology and equal passion for arts, I fell in love with your private, softer, caring nature, I fell in love with your touch.

I am utterly and hopelessly in love with you, and it is entirely illogical for me to be so. But with you, I find myself that I do not mind in the slightest.

I would like to keep debating with you. I would like to bring you flowers. I would like to hold your hand. I would even like to kiss you. And in the mornings, I wish to see your face every time I wake up for the rest of my existence.

Sincerely yours,

Logan

Janus calmly folded the letter back into the envelope, setting it down on his bead while millions of thoughts swirled inside his head.

Then he bolted right out of his room. He had to see Logan now.

Finally arriving in front of Logan’s door, he didn’t waste time and started knocking frantically, anticipation practically killing him inside.

The door opened, revealing Logan’s confused face. “Yes-?”

Janus pushed him inside and slammed the door shut behind him before Logan could even compute that it’s Janus. “You buffoon.”

Logan’s eyes widened in confusion. “What?”

“You absolute moron.” Janus repeated his statement more heatedly, jabbing a finger to the other side’s chest. A fierce, hot blush spread on his face as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What- what are you--?” The utter bafflement was thick in his tone and features, the side stopping mid sentence. It took Logan a few long seconds to realize what in all hell was Janus talking about. A similar blush glowed on Logan’s cheeks as realization hit him. “Ah. The letter.”

“We wasted so much time,” Janus said more calmly, his tone softer than earlier. “I could’ve been kissing you stupid from a long time ago.”

“I apologize it took me so long to realize my— feelings.” Logan looked genuinely apologetic, and before Janus could tell him not to apologize about that, he continued, “And how long it took me to finish the letter.”

A relieved huff of air left Janus’ mouth followed by a smile forming on his lips. Logan loved him. Logan truly loved him.

The logical side looked away, still blushing. With a surge of confidence, Janus took the opportunity to hold his hand, causing Logan to look back at him with wide eyes, the blush burning brighter.

“I can’t believe you used a love letter to confess,” Janus commented playfully, teasingly, as he took in Logan’s red face. God, Janus felt so happy. So very happy that this absolutely wonderful nerd loved him back. After all the waiting, all the pining, all the the things his heart yearned to do with him was all in his reach now. “Why not face to face? You’re usually straightforward when it comes to communicating.”

“I can’t- I cannot bear to see the look on your face if you-“ His voice cracked. “Reject me,” Logan answered quietly, vulnerably honest. There’s a wave of doubt in his eyes as Janus gaze into them.

“Oh, Logan,” Janus said so, so softly, smiling, leaning in. “I love you, too.”

Then Janus pulled Logan by the hand, yanking him down, his other hand firmly holding the other’s face as he pushed himself forward and crashed their lips together.

Logan made a startled sound muffled by the lips that was against his own, but Janus kept kissing him and kissing him, one hand fisted in Logan’s collar and the other cupping his face, overjoyed to know that this wonderful, beautiful nerd was his. The logical side obviously didn’t know what to do with his hands, opting to just rest them on both of Janus’ shoulder.

Janus pulled away, staring at Logan’s eyes, gaze full of adoration. “I love you,” He claimed again, emotional and sincere, so uncharacteristically soft and tender. He rested his head on the other’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug. “I love you.”

Logan, teary-eyed and still blushing, smiled back with equal love and affection for the other. And softly, he said the words back,

“I love you, too.”

#loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #AHSSJJSH THE GRAMMAR HERE IS MOST LIKELY ATROCIOUS IM SO SORRY

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julemmaes · 4 years

Text

Let Me In - October 2nd

Nesta Archeron x Cassian

Prompt sent by @noorismee (I’m sorry Tumblr kinda sucks and deleted the ask, I hope it’s just a one-time thing cause I could go insane)

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

A/N: This was so cute to write and I really really miss my friends right now, cause I’ve just started uni and I don’t understand how many things works so I haven’t seen them in a very long time and writing about them is always kinda emotional. I hope y’all enjoy!

p.s. yesterday I made a mistake, cause I put the acotar general tag list instead of the tog one, so, sorry for the ones who found themselves there eheh

Word count: 2,587

Nesta wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so bad.

She had tried to take this exam four times in the last year. Twice in the winter session and twice in the summer one. Everyone had reassured her that the fifth time would be the good one, that this time she would be able to pass it with full marks.

"I'm sure you'll be the best in the class." Elain had told her only the day before.

So when she had arrived home, today, and had opened the email with the rankings and saw that she had failed again, she had screamed in frustration.

She grunted and dropped her head on the table, banging her forehead hard enough on the wood to make a loud thump. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, yawning and jerking when a flash of lightning lit the room as if it were daytime. She put her hands over her ears, waiting for the thunder and staring at the raindrops racing on the window glass, and when the noise stopped, she started reading one of the billions of theorems she had been studying for months.

She turned the pages until she found the chapter on the Fourier series and started to rewrite everything she needed to assimilate every little connotation of the theory so that she could apply it in practice.

She had been flipping through the book for hours, writing things and doing calculations that she knew by heart now. How was it possible that she knew everything so perfectly when she was at home and when she found herself in front of the test sheet, she forgot the logic behind it?

She picked up the phone to see the time and saw that it was ten forty-nine. She would not go to sleep until she had solved all the problems in the book.

A message appeared on the screen just as she was about to turn it off and she raised an eyebrow seeing who the sender was.

She had immediately informed him when she knew that she had failed the exam again, but then she hadn't waited for an answer and had put her phone aside.

Scrolling through the dozens of notifications - most of them from her best friend - she saw messages from her classmates asking her if she had passed.

When she got to the bottom of the list, she grimaced.

‘Did you eat?’

And a few minutes later, ‘Nesta?’

‘If you don't answer me within an hour and a half, I'm coming to your place.’

And then, exactly ninety minutes later, he had sent another message saying: ‘You asked for it. I'll be at your's in twenty minutes, half an hour max.’ followed by a strangely threatening text, ‘I'm pissed.’

Nesta grinned, muttering to herself, "Joke's on you, I won't open the door." and returned without too much thought to her math book.

Five minutes passed before she heard someone aggressively knocking on the door. She sighed, lifting her eyes from the numbers and pondering whether it was better to let him in or let him die outside in the cold and frost. She was about to get up, tell him that he should leave, when Cassian knocked harder on the door. She frowned.

"Arche! Open the fucking door, I'm freezing out here!" shouted the boy. Nesta laughed, looking at him through the peephole and leaning her hip against the wall.

She spoke loudly enough so that Cassian could hear her through the door, "And don't you think you should have asked my permission before coming here and busting my balls?"

She heard him snort and could imagine him closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Nesta, please," he seemed exasperated, "open this door and let me feed you."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, chuckling, "Feed me? What am I? A dog?"

"No, you idiot." he laughed on the other side, then, in a more serious tone he asked, "Have you eaten something?"

Nesta hesitated, "Sure."

"I can hear the bullshit from here." a little pause, "Come on, open up."

She opened the door slightly, watching him step forward and Nesta closed the door ajar, shaking her head, "Cassian I have to study." if she had let him in she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

His hair was damp and his usually dark-grey jacket was now black.

"Cassian," he repeated in a mocking tone and making a disgusted face, "what? Are you mad?"

She shook her head puffing, tapping her foot on the ground repeatedly. He followed the movement with his eyes. Looking back at her face, he said, "Even if you were, you wouldn't have the right to. I'm not the one who ignored his best friend all day." he put one hand on the door and pushed it, holding the pizza with the other.

When Nesta struggled to keep it closed again, Cassian laughed. They both knew very well that if he wanted to force his way into her apartment, he would have no problem doing so.

He took one look at her and made what she called whipped-dog-eyes, "I didn't get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you're sad, so let me in." She noticed only in that moment the bag hanging from his fingers. She leaned forward to help him hold it. She hated plastic bags so much, they always stretched out to cut off her hands when she had to carry them around.

Then she metabolized his words and opened her eyes wide, "Did you come on foot?"

She opened the door, stepped aside and let him in. Cassian trotted into the apartment, shaking his jacket off and passing the pizza to her, who moved so as not to get wet, "Are you crazy? It's four degrees outside and it's pouring."

He looked so pleased to finally be inside the house that he didn't seem to hear her.

Nesta placed the food and beer on the kitchen table, careful not to wet the books. She hurried to put everything aside and when Cassian came in and saw what she was doing she tightened her jaw. Nesta noticed.

"What?" she asked abruptly, "Everyone has their problems. You are a fool for leaving the house at ten o'clock without an umbrella and walking for half an hour in the middle of a storm and I am trying to make sure I have a future by studying, and if I have to do it in the evening, that's not going to stop me".

Cassian shrugged, "Az stole my umbrella and my mom needed the car."

A twinge of pain tightened her heart.

She shook her head, "Wait here, I'll go get you a dry sweatshirt, I should have one of yours."

He nodded and Nesta saw him as he started cutting the pizza, taking what necessary and setting the table. When he came back he was shirtless and was rattling his hair, squeezing it into the sink.

She froze on the kitchen door, admiring how the muscles on his back tensed with every slightest movement. It was not the first time she saw him without clothes, there had been many occasions, but it was rare for him to undress in front of her in such intimate surroundings. She cleared her voice, drawing Cassian's attention.

He turned towards her, smiling at her and Nesta thought she was going to die. It wasn't the usual cocky smile he usually gave everyone, it was sweet and sincere. She handed him the sweatshirt without saying anything and sat down.

The first bite of pizza - although it was gummy and cold - was an explosion of happiness in her stomach. She closed his eyes, moaning and took another bite out of the slice. Cassian sniggered, watching her as she finished her first slice.

"Geez, it's so good," said Nesta, with her mouth full of food. Cassian had an amused expression on his face. He nodded his head to the cartoon, "Have some more."

Nesta didn't hesitate and threw herself on the pizza, filling her plate. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company. She thanked him only when she had cleaned the plate with the last crumb. He had belittled the whole thing by waving his hand mid-air, just saying that she didn't need to thank him, that it was his job to make sure she survived through this exam session.

When Cassian leaned forward on the table to grab a bottle of beer, Nesta stood up, grabbed the bottle opener and handed it to him. He was about to open the second one, when Nesta stopped him, "I'm not going to drink Cass, as soon as you leave I'll go back to studying and you know what alcohol does to me."

Cassian laughed and opened it anyway, pushing it towards her, "Come on Arche," she did not move and looked him in the eyes more serious than ever, "if you put it like that," he took back the beer and the smile died on his lips. He moved his gaze toward the window, "But I'm not leaving".

She moaned, "What the fuck, Cass." she put her hand in her hair, raising one leg and putting her foot on the chair, leaning her chin against her knee.

"I'm not leaving and I don't want to hear your lame excuses about why I can't stay" he looked at her and the worry in his features made Nesta stand at attention.

His tone became more gentle, "What happened today?"

She wiggled her head for the millionth time, frowning, "What do you mean? Nothing happened," and before he could answer her, she added, "except that I failed the mathematical analysis exam for the fifth time."

"Nes..." he passed his hand through his hair, unwinding it and dropping little water left and right. His eyes never left her face, looking for any sign that would give away her apparent calm.

"Cass." she repeated with the same tone. How could he be so good at reading through the lines? Lines that she hadn't even written, considering how good she had been at ignoring him all day long. She figured, that was also a clear sign that something was wrong.

Not even Tomas, her boyfriend, could understand that something was wrong and she had explicitly texted him "I don't feel very well, I'd rather be alone for today" to which he replied with a simple "Ok, talk to you tomorrow".

Maybe he didn't even care what was bothering his girlfriend so much. Surely he would have been angry, though, when he found out that Cassian had spent the night on her couch.

Cassian sighed, also putting down his beer, "You know, you need to talk about anything, I'm always here."

Nesta felt a lump forming in her throat, so she nodded weakly, not trusting her voice.

He looked into her eyes for a few more seconds and when she could no longer hold his gaze, she turned to her books, staring at the sheets of paper that came out of the pages.

"So," said Cassian, changing the subject for her sake, "what don't you understand about mathematical analysis?

She turned to him in surprise, "These aren't things you would understand."

She wasn't trying to insult him or make him feel less intelligent than she were, but the subjects that were studied in the third year of a math degree course required a broad knowledge of previous subjects. Subjects that Cassian would never have even approached while studying foreign languages and literatures.

"Oh, I know, I don't have a sufficiently developed brain for those things, but you need to be distracted and since you want to study so much, maybe you could repeat it to me." he smiled at her, getting up and standing in front of her, pointing to the living room with a nod of his chin, "Couch?

Nesta stared at him, wondering how it was possible that Cassian was her friend. She nodded, following him into the living room and sitting in front of him, her legs bent under her.

The second she opened the book, the black letters on the white pages seemed to cross over. They seemed to dance, not allowing her to read. She would have been able to explain it without reading, but fatigue was taking over. She closed the book, staring at the cover.

"Everything okay?" he asked with a hint of concern in his tone.

Nesta closed her eyes, carrying a hand over her eyes. Her breath started to tremble. She did not want to cry.

She felt Cassian move on the couch and then he hugged her, "Sweetheart?" he stroked her hair, while Nesta took the book out from among them and dropped it on the floor. She clutched to his chest and took a deep breath. The warmth of him seemed to relax her little or nothing and Nesta only wanted to stop feeling this icy cold that seemed to have been poured into her bones.

"I miss my mom," she whispered.

She heard Cassian swallowing, "I figured," he said in an equally silent tone, holding her tighter, "It's normal Arche, her anniversary is approaching."

Right. The anniversary of Amanda Archeron's death would be in a couple of weeks.

Nesta was convinced that Tomas couldn't even remember the month of her mother's death.

"She was so good. She graduated on time. She did everything perfectly. And I'm here and I can't pass this stupid exam," she said against his chest. Her mother went to the same university, she attended classes in the same halls. She had graduated with the highest grades.

Cassian moved slightly, placing his hand on one of her cheeks, caressing her just under the eye. He had a determined look in his eyes and when he spoke, Nesta knew she wouldn't be able to talk back.

"You managed to get this far for a reason. You are not stupid and the test you are trying to take is not easy. Your mother was a genius, it's true, and I understand that you think you are expected to do the same, but no one is going to use such a thing against you," he reassured her. "We are all on your side. The only one who doesn't believe in you, it seems, is also the only one who should." he smiled sweetly at her.

Nesta moved, fleeing that touch so familiar, so comforting.

"I'm sorry." she murmured.

Cassian was still hugging her, "For what?"

"For making you worry, I should have called you and told you right away. You wouldn't have had to come all the way here." she looked him in the face and found an amused expression there.

"I would have come anyway, Nes. Only sooner."

She smiled at him and hugged him again.

They watched an action movie until two in the morning, hugging on her couch. They didn't go to class the next day, staying locked in the house, eating all the junk they had managed to buy on their little trip to the mini market down the street.

Cassian had also managed to convince her not to touch the books for the day and it had taken a while for her to accept.

She just needed her person.

Looking to her right, she stretched her feet over his lap and he smiled at her.

She was kinda screwed.

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homebody-nobody · 3 years

Note

54 and 62 Jiara

hello I got ~carried away~ who is shocked not me

Rating: T (for language) Word Count: 1653 (oops)

54) Why is there a pregnancy test in the trash? 62) I warned you. He warned you. Your fucking mom warned you.

Dating Daniel Ryder was a bad idea. Kiara knew that. But he was tall, blond, blue-eyed, and deeply emotionally unavailable, and Kie is, unfortunately, the kind of girl with a type. Pope had already confronted her about the similarities between Danny and a certain friend of theirs, so when she misses her period, she knows she can’t call the boys.

After the summer of gold, Sarah became somewhat of a permanent fixture in their little crew, and, reluctantly, old grudges were forgiven, and a new, better friendship formed. Kiara wasn’t sure how to approach that relationship, at first. Being friends with girls was so much different than what she had grown up with, gotten so used to over the years. It’s a different kind of bond. All the same, she doesn’t want to go to Walgreens by herself.

While they wait for the results, sitting on Kiara’s bathroom floor, Sarah knocks her foot against Kiara’s.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she says, and Kiara just shrugs, too disconnected from reality to really get any thought past the swirling storm of panic that predominates her thoughts.

Another minute passes, and the timer rings on Sarah’s phone. Kiara lunges toward the counter.

The test is negative.

Both girls let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Oh thank fuck,” Kiara lets out, dropping back to the floor, her back sliding down the wall. Sarah leans over and drops her forehead against her friend’s knee, laughing, because she doesn’t really know what else to do. She wouldn’t have known what to say, if something else had happened. “I’m not telling Danny.”

Sarah lifts her head, her chin resting on Kiara’s knee instead. “Why not?” she asks.

Kiara shrugs again. “He’ll freak and run.” She shakes her head. “I should have listened to JJ.” He hadn’t liked Danny from the jump.

Sarah scrunches up her nose and wraps her arms around Kie’s leg. “I mean, he warned you,” she admits, and then; “I also warned you. I mean hell, your fucking mom warned you.” She laughs a little bit, and Kiara picks up the leg she’s leaning on and nudges her in the stomach with her foot.

“You’re not helping,” she points out.

Sarah’s head falls to the side, watching her friend’s face, studying the gears turning behind deep, intelligent brown eyes.

“Are you gonna tell JJ?” she asks.

Kiara lands squarely back in reality with a jerk. “Why the fuck would I do that?” she asks, and Sarah almost laughs. She knows how JJ feels about Kiara. Everyone does, except for Kiara.

Sarah shrugs, delighting just the smallest bit in the way the machine in Kie’s head seems to be spitting smoke trying to understand what Sarah has just said. There’s no more argument, though, because the door to Kiara’s room bursts open, announcing the arrival of John B and JJ, who, of course, neglected to text about coming over to pick the both of them up. AFter everything, Kie’s parents have been infinitely kinder to all of the boys, and the Carrera house has started to feel like communal territory, equitable to the Heywards but not quite on par with the Chateau. Although, nowhere will ever feel like home to any of them quite like the Chateau does.

Sarah scrambles up from the floor, and goes back into Kie’s room to stall. Kiara stands and sweeps the pregnancy test in the trash, washing her hands before following Sarah into the bedroom.

“What were you both doing in the bathroom?” John B asks, plastered to Sarah’s back, his arms around her shoulders. Kiara looks, wild-eyed, to her friend, and Sarah makes up a lie about makeup. John B looks satisfied, but JJ doesn’t.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Kie asks, “I thought it was common practice to call before you start bursting into people’s houses.”

JJ pokes her in the side with a good-natured grin, and masks his confusion poorly when she swats at his hand. “There was no bursting,” he protests, “your mom let us in.” She still doesn’t smile or laugh, and he relents, eyeing her all the same. She’s still upset and a little shaken, and Kiara has never been very good at covering up her feelings. He wants to ask her wha’ts up, but he knows that won’t yield anything, not with John B and Sarah there, too. Kiara already isn’t good at vulnerability, much less in group settings. It takes one-on-one time and usually a good deal of alcohol before she lets anything remotely private slip.

John B saves the day. “We came to get you guys,” he explains, “There’s a killer swell at Rixon’s right now.”

Kiara lights up, delighted by the idea of a long afternoon of surfing to get her mind off the close call and the conversation she’s goind to have to have with Danny, and ducks into her walk-in closet to change. Dimly, she hears JJ say something about needing the bathroom through the door, and her heart climbs up into her throat as she ties the halter of her bikini behind her neck, dizzy and praying to whatever might be up there that he doesn’t look in the trash.

They aren’t listening.

They both come back into the room at the same time, JJ drying his hands on his t-shirt (heathen), and Kiara pulling on a loose button-up to serve as a cover-up. JJ, bless him, never does know how or when to keep his mouth shut.

“Why is there a pregnancy test in the trash?” he asks.

Kiara freezes, and Sarah takes a deep, sharp inhale. Still holding her, John B goes ghost-white, his entire body going stiff. JJ realizes his mistake almost immediately.

“Um --” he says, eyes darting between the two girls, and, resigned, Kiara takes the fall, to save the healthy relationship from an entirely unnecessary fight.

“It’s mine,” she says, and John B relaxes, just slightly. JJ doesn’t. Not until she says; “false alarm.”

The silence hangs awkward and heavy until Sarah says something about warming up the van (It’s May), and drags John B out of the room. JJ doesn’t say anything, and Kiara doesn’t know why she’s waiting for him to. He stares at the floor, and she twists the hem of her shirt around her index finger.

When he does speak, she’s surprised at his question. “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks.

“It’s no big deal,” she reassures him, not sure she believes it, herself. “It was negative, anyway.”

“You thought you were pregnant, Kie,” he says, his voice breaking on the word. She flinches. “That’s a pretty big fucking deal.”

“But I’m not,” she insists, stubbornly determined not to understand why he’s so caught up in this.

“Did you tell Danny?” he asks, and she wants nothing more than to run far, far away from this conversation. She didn’t expect JJ to care this much, and possible reasons tumblr and crash together in her exhausted, anxiety-hangover of a mind. She shakes her head, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, and his mouth turns into a thin, flat line, his hand curling into a fist and tapping lightly against the bedpost. “Why not?” he asks.

“Why do you care so much?” she shoots back, and he winces, the words like a blow. She knows why.

“I don’t know,” he says. “If it was me --”

“But it’s not you,” she interrupts, shocked to feel tears forming, hard and crystalline, in the bottom of her throat. “So it doesn’t matter.”

“And whose fault is that?” he responds immediately. The words echo like a whip cracked through the room, and finally, their eyes meet, furious and burning, full of misunderstanding and jealousy and illusions of betrayed trust. “I warned you,” he goes on, the dam finally broken, “I told you he was bad news and you dated him anyway.”

“You’re acting like you were even an option!” she snaps, and there’s the truth of it. She dated Danny because he was almost JJ, because the one thing she really wanted, the one person she really wanted -- she thought he was out of reach. Her voice is ragged and raw when honesty finally climbs and claws its way out of her throat. “Of course, I wanted you,” she cries. “But I couldn’t have you, so don’t go trying to tell me how to live my life.”

When she looks up again, his face is so open and honest it almost hurts. Her chest heaves from the argument and the fear and all the other stress she’s carried around all day. She can’t handle this, not now, and her entire body screams at her to just run, but she can’t, not when JJ is looking at her like that.

“Kie…” he sighs, and without words, the truth paints itself around the both of them, colors finally exploding across the blank, undefined space between them. He crosses the room in three quick steps, and he’s kissing her, holding her face, her hands curled on his chest. It’s an explosion of sorts, an ending and a beginning all at once.

JJ speaks softly when he pulls away. “You could’ve had me,” he says, his thumb brushing away a tear that rolls down her cheek. “You can still have me.” She lifts a fist and lets it thump gently against his chest, letting out a watery laugh.

“You never said --” she starts, but he smiles, and kisses her again.

“I didn’t think I had to,” he explains, and she bumps her forehead against his.

“You’re an idiot,” she says, and he laughs.

“Your idiot,” he says. And then, softer; “if you want me.”

She kisses him once more, and there’s still John B and Sarah downstairs, still Danny to deal with, still a thousand other things that might get in their way, but this moment -- this moment is all theirs.

“Of course I want you.”

#jiara #jiara fic #obx #obx fic #my writing #jj maybank #kiara carrera

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caffeinatedbraincell · 3 years

Text

Hi everybody! Here's another short episode of fluff from my procrastinating brain. Enjoy :)

This fic is inspired by this Tumblr post by @fangirlshrewt97:

Read on AO3

Nile sipped her iced caramel coffee, watching apprehensively as the argument that had started in the car snowballed quickly in the corner of the Krispy Kreme.

“It’s okay. Nothing beats the original glazed, anyway.”

“Shut up, Booker. What kind of donut place doesn’t have peanut butter donuts?”

“Andy, contrary to whatever the hell your sources are, peanut butter donuts aren’t a thing-”

“Yes, they are! I’ve had them before!”

“When, in 1920? That entire decade was full of bad ideas that have since been discontinued!”

Nile was about to step in and see if the situation could be salvaged without causing a right scene when her cell phone rang. The caller ID showed Joe’s name.

“Hello?” she said, moving away a little as the donut disagreement continued loudly.

“Nile, I need you to come pick me up right now,” Joe said tersely over the phone.

Nile was immediately on alert. Was everything alright? Had the safe house been attacked?

“Why?” she asked.

“Nicky is passive-aggressively doing the dishes he asked me to do six hours ago.”

It took a second for his words to register. Nile managed not to laugh out loud, but it was a near thing. Unfortunately, Joe seemed to sense her amusement.

“This house isn’t safe anymore!” he insisted. “Come and get me!”

“Joe- no. Nope. You guys have been married for 900 years! Figure it out.”

“No,” Joe hissed. “No ‘figure it out.’ Come and help me. You’re being an annoying baby sister.”

“Baby sisters are supposed to be annoying. Seriously dude, just talk to him. Apologize or something. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Joe exclaimed sarcastically. “He could whip out his longsword and murder me in cold blood, ever thought about that?”

Nile rolled her eyes. “Look, just… kiss him. Really well. So he forgets about the dishes you didn’t do.”

“That’s not how relationships work!”

“Yes, it is! With you two it is! Now hang up, I need to go prevent Andy and Booker getting banned from this Krispy Kreme, too.”

“Traitor,” Joe grumbled, before cutting the call.

Nile sighed. She looked over at the corner where Booker and Andy were standing out of earshot. Booker was gesticulating wildly, while Andy stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking unconvinced.

It appeared none of the staff had noticed them, yet. And they clearly weren’t close to reaching any sort of consensus regarding donut purchasing. Nile rubbed her forehead in resignation.

Fine, she thought. I’ll go pick up Joe real fast. No one will even notice I’m gone. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and slipped out the door.

Back at the safe house, Joe frowned at his phone. Maybe Nile was right. Sure, Nicky had ignored him as he’d loitered by the entrance of the kitchen, instead focusing way more intently than necessary on scrubbing dried cheese from the bottom of last night’s empty pasta bake tray (in Joe’s defense, the tray had needed to soak more). But standing around trying to make eye contact wasn’t good communication, and it certainly wasn’t an apology.

Abruptly, the kitchen tap shut off. Joe winced. It sounded like the dishes were done. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to go back into the kitchen and face his husband. Regardless of what he’d told Nile, Joe knew he wouldn’t be subject to anything worse than a few more hours of judgmental silence, if even that. His Nicky was quick to forgive.

But when Joe re-entered the kitchen, Nicky had his back turned and was dicing something on a cutting board out of Joe’s sight. Joe sighed. If Nicky had moved straight from doing the dishes to preparing dinner, he clearly did not want to talk to Joe. Joe dawdled in the doorway, considering making a run for it and hiding under their bed covers until Nicky cooled off.

Suddenly, Nicky cursed under his breath. Joe snapped his gaze up, alert. A drop of red splashed to the pristine white-tile floor, followed by another, and another. Oh, Joe thought, feeling his heart rate start to relax. He must have accidentally nicked himself with the knife.

But the drops kept falling, and Joe felt something unpleasant stir in the pit of his stomach. The blood thudding in his ears started to get louder again.

“Cazzo,” Nicky repeated with feeling, reaching for a scrap of paper towel on the counter. The drops kept falling.

A cold sense of dread started to lace through Joe’s entire body. How long does a cut take to heal? he asked himself. The drops kept falling. How long how long how long…

The drops kept falling. A violent wave of vertigo washed over him, and Joe stumbled forward with a strangled cry.

At the sound of his voice, Nicky whirled around, eyes widening as he caught sight of Joe. “Hayati, what-”

Joe swiped a clean knife off the drying rack and sliced it across his palm. Nicky lunged forward, snatching the knife out of his hands and tossing it aside.

“Joe, what the fuck do you thing you’re doing?!”

Joe barely heard him over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. Nicky’s voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. Instead, Joe could only watch in despair as the skin on his hand stitched itself back together. His vision blurred with tears. The words echoed hauntingly in his mind: How long? How long did they have together? How long did Nicky have left? How long would Joe be forced to live without-

“Joe! Look at me!” Nicky grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and shook him, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts. Dazed, Joe raised his tear-stained face in compliance. “Madre de dio…” Nicky whispered, raising a hand to cup Joe’s cheek. “Love, we need to get you inside. You’re trembling. Your skin is burning hot.”

Joe let himself be half-carried to their bedroom. Nicky propped him up against a pillow and moved to leave the room. Joe panicked.

“No,” he protested weakly, clutching Nicky’s wrist. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll only be a moment, hayati. Let me get you some water.”

“No, please, Nicolò…”

Nicky relented, sitting down on the mattress in front of Joe and studying the visceral fear in his eyes. “My god. You’re not okay.”

“Were you even going to tell me?” Joe choked out.

“Tell you what?”

Joe squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop it. Don’t be cruel, amato, don’t make me say it.”

Nicky furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. “Joe? Wha- what are you talking about? What’s wrong?” He took both of Joe’s hands in his and squeezed. “Talk to me, my love. Help me understand. What happened to you?”

“Not me,” Joe croaked. “You. Your hand. It’s not heal- it’s-” He splayed out Nicky’s palm between his own, scraping up every ounce of courage he had to look at it. He froze. “Wait.” He turned the hand over, running his fingers over the unmarred skin. “You accidentally cut yourself. While chopping. Where is the blood?”

“Joe, now you’re scaring me. I didn’t cut myself. What made you think that?”

“You cussed. And then I saw- I saw blood. Dripping onto the floor. There was so much blood, Nicky, and you kept bleeding…”

Several emotions crossed Nicky’s face in quick succession: pain, fear, confusion, worry, and finally, understanding. And then, profound relief. He huffed out a dry laugh.

“Yusuf, my beloved fucking idiot, did you by any chance happen to see what I was chopping?”

Joe raised his eyes to Nicky’s, bewildered. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Beetroot, Joe. An overripe beetroot. I was only alarmed because it was dripping everywhere and staining the nice marble cutting board on our counter.”

There was a suspended pause.

“Beetroot,” Joe mumbled, blinking languidly. “You’re not hurt? You’re not- you know, you’re not…”

“Mortal? No,” Nicky smiled, reaching out to rub his thumbs softly beneath Joe’s eyes. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

Joe shook his head immediately, surging forward to press a frantic kiss to Nicky’s lips. Before Nicky could even respond, Joe pulled away, burying his face in Nicky’s shoulder and sobbing quietly with relief.

“Hayati,” Nicky breathed, bringing his arms up around Joe and pulling him closer. “Shhh. Joe, baby, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” He turned his head to press a long kiss to Joe’s curls, rubbing a hand firmly up and down Joe’s back. “I have you, my all. I’m not letting go.”

Wrapped in the warmth of Nicky’s arms, Joe gradually managed to stop shaking. He mumbled something incoherent into Nicky’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Nicky asked, pulling back slightly.

Joe stared at the bedsheet. “I said I’m sorry for not doing the dishes when you asked.”

“Joe-”

“It feels like it would have been my fault. If- if something had happened to you.”

“Never, my love. You know better. Do not go down that path. I forbid it.”

“But-”

“Enough, Yusuf.” Nicky gently pushed Joe’s shoulders down onto the pillow, moving to sit next to him, back against the headboard. Instinctively, Joe transferred his head to Nicky’s lap. Nicky hummed in contentment, burying a hand in Joe’s hair and stroking softly. “You’ve worn yourself out worrying, haven’t you.”

“Hmph,” Joe grumbled into Nicky’s thigh. “And for no good reason, apparently.”

“There is never a good enough reason to see such devastation in your eyes as I witnessed today.”

“Don’t leave me behind, then.”

Nicky inhaled sharply, stilling his hand in Joe’s hair. For the millionth time, he wished in vain that he could promise Joe this. He leaned down to brush a sweet kiss to Joe’s forehead, hovering there with his eyes closed, willing his husband to forgive his helplessness.

“I love you,” Joe mumbled, already half asleep. “It’s okay.”

Nicky sighed, resuming the soothing motion of his hand in Joe’s curls. “Rest, my heart. I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, Nile poked her head through the front door of the safehouse, looking around furtively.

“Joe?” she whispered. Receiving no response, she tiptoed further into the house. Nicky was standing at the stove, his back turned to her as he stirred something that smelled truly amazing.

Nile ducked beneath the counter to avoid being spotted. The least Joe could’ve done was be waiting for her outside. Then again, she hadn’t told him she was coming, so maybe this wasn’t entirely his fault.

“May I ask why you’re sneaking around, Nile?” Nicky asked, never taking his eyes off the stove. “It’s as much your house as mine, you know.”

Nile groaned in exasperation, standing up straight. “I’m not sneaking. I'm looking for Joe.”

“In there,” Nicky pointed a wooden spoon towards their bedroom. “He’s sleeping, but you can wake him up if it’s urgent.”

“Sleeping?” Nile asked in surprise.

“Yeah, taking a nap. Why?”

“Uh, you’re not…mad at him?”

It was Nicky’s turn to look surprised. “I don’t think so? Should I be? What did he do?”

“No! Uh, nothing. Nothing. I’ll just go…pick up Andy and Booker from the donut shop, then.”

“You left them at Krispy Kreme?”

“Yeah. They were taking forever to decide.”

Nicky chuckled. “Fair enough. Can you taste this for salt?” He held out a spoon of the divine-smelling stew.

“Oh, absolutely,” Nile grinned. Maybe this wouldn’t be a wasted trip, after all.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #found family #fluff #kavi writes #fanfiction #TOG fanfic #it gets a little angsty for a hot second but ends soft #for once I set out to write something short #and it stayed relatively short 😇#anyways yes #this is how I'm coping with *gestures at everything*#enjoy #(feedback welcome! <3)

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 3 years

Text

Space girl

The beginning of most love stories: the moon falls in love with the sun.

(The problem, however, is that most love stories aren’t set in the Boiling Isles. To confirm that the metaphor works adequately, there must exist at least one moon and one sun in your admittedly bonkers world. Is there a sun? A moon?)

Amity shivers where she’s sitting at her window, stares up at the bright bluish orb hanging over the sky and decides it does, in fact, qualify as a celestial body, whatever the hell that means. Luz has been teaching them about the intricacies of the human world, every bit of knowledge that they would require if in case they ever got transported there accidentally, and that includes something called a smartphone, a bus and the shortest way to the nearest vending machine, preferably a vending machine that stocks Mars Bars. Amity suspects the last is just another one of Luz’s whims, but has no way of confirming.

(And what is the point of confirming anything anyways? It is enough to sit in front of Luz, or beside her or anywhere with a direct line of sight to her, so Amity can listen to her blabber on about chocolate chips and scrambled eggs and something called a Tumblr; enough to get lost in the insistent, sunshine shaped cadence of her voice and forget about the perils of the week.

Plus, is the sun ever wrong?)

A month ago, Amity would have been alarmed at how easily she writes down her utter devotion towards a very human someone who gets beaten up on the regular by some ancient eldritch horror. Now the words just walk out of her quill and plant themselves firmly on the page like they couldn’t belong anywhere else, except maybe her paramour’s heart. That’s the problem with the moon falling in love with the sun. it’s annoying yet ineffable and inevitable. It’s also the easiest thing she’s ever done.

*****

Emira figures it out first. Which probably means that Edric knows as well, since Amity is pretty sure the twins share a single mind and keep passing it to each other like they’re in an eternal Grudgby match. However, he’s not the one who appears in her room in the middle of the night to scare her half to death. That’s all Emira.

“What,” Amity starts, one hand on her chest, other reaching instinctively for her training wand at the sight of a green cloud of smoke that’s materialized in her room out of nowhere, “in the world are you doing here?”

Her sister leans against the doorway, like she’s been there all along, takes in her room. Amity knows it’s clean, knows that there is not a speck of dust hiding beneath the floorboards or an errant cape strewn on her bed, and yet can’t help following Emira’s gaze anxiously as it travels across her neatly arranged trophy on the shelf, her table and the loose floorboard she now hides her diary under, before she comes to rest on hers.

“You never told us what happened at the library the other day,” she says, finally.

Amity blinks. “I did tell you what happened. Otabin turned into a monster and tried to sew me, literally, into a book. Had to be fought off.”

She doesn’t continue with the subsequent thoughts in her head. Luz was there. Brave, idiotic Luz with a tendency of barging into adventures without a second thought. Luz, who I would’ve jumped into fire for. Luz, who made (makes) me laugh.

“You mean you and Luz?” Emira asks, innocently.

She bites the inside of her cheek, tries hard not to betray the smile that’s trying to creep up her face at the sound of Luz’s name. Nods.

“Luz is pretty cool, is she not?” Emira continues, and okay, there’s no reason to say someone’s name this much in one conversation. She ambles around her room, touching things at random, while Amity regulates her breathing. This was pathetic. The sound of someone’s name wasn’t supposed to make her feel like her heart was going to burst out of her, wasn’t supposed to climb up her throat and turn into absolute warmth all over her face.

“Uh huh,” she manages. “I guess. Yeah. Eh. Yeah.” Too much too much too much too much.

Emira is suddenly in her face then. She places her hand on Amity’s shoulders, stares right into her eyes.

“Aw, Mittens,” she chuckles. “You’re adorable when you have a crush.”

And then she disappears.

Amity does manage to chuck the object nearest to her (which happens to be her training wand) at Emira’s retreating figure. Then she sits on the floor and curls up into an embarrassed ball. You know, as one does.

*****

The whole jumping into danger for Luz thing would be a lot more avoidable if Luz didn’t have an equally huge jumping into danger for Amity thing as well.

Which is such a godforsaken Luz thing to do. The idiot immersed herself in a cauldron full of sludge for Willow, who she had met minutes ago, of course she would take on her burden for Grom night. Of course she would somehow break the cage Amity had conjured up for her to come save Eda and Edric and Emira and of course she would help her make things right with Willow. If the girl had one coherent thought when she woke up every morning, it was probably this – Ooh, someone’s in trouble? Let me fix it!

(She does inevitably manage to turn a tiny cut into a gushing wound in absolutely no time at all, but would Luz even be Luz without shenanigans?)

Amity loves it. It gives her a heart attack, but she loves how Luz is always ready to help out a random stranger. She’s never met anyone with a heart bigger than Luz’s and a personality sunnier than hers.

(Also hasn’t met anyone who’s cuter, or prettier, or better-looking in a strange black-pink-frilly-yet-well-tailored attire, but let’s not go there)

Either way, it’s completely understandable that she immediately reaches for her wand when Luz climbs up onto her balcony after Grom night, ready to fight whatever it was that was evidently bothering her.

“No!” Luz holds up her hands, shoots her a quick smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling herself relax. “So, um — why are you — here?”

“I could go! If you — wanted to, sleep or—”

“—no! Absolutely not!” Curse her for picking the absolute worst way to phrase a question. Why hadn’t she said Hey Luz, it’s so nice to see you, what brings you here? Or Hey Luz, please walk into my room and never leave.

(You know. Either works)

“I’m glad you’re here,” Amity says, then fumbles for something, anything, to add on to that revealing statement. “I mean, I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

Luz nods, and then giggles when Amity joins her onto the balcony and in the moonlight.

“What?” she asks, a little self-conscious. Also very charmed. Making Luz laugh was like some form of intoxicating elixir; Amity was hooked onto the feeling. Luz laughing made the world brighter.

(God, she was so gone for this idiot.)

“Your pajamas have tiny owls all over them,” Luz points out.

“Okay, that’s it!” she says, half-turning to go back into her room, when Luz’s hand grabs her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Luz is still laughing. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You look cute.”

Thank you, Luz. That’s very nice of you, Luz. You look nice in your strange clothes and oversized jacket as well, Luz. Those were all potential responses she could deliver.

Instead, she makes a choked-off noise that sounds suspiciously like hngg and closes her eyes.

(She’s so gone for this idiot)

*****

“Does your moon look like the one here?” Amity asks, one night of many, when they’re sitting on her balcony staring up at the gigantic thing. There’s some quiet song about stars and lovers that’s playing on that infernal device Luz is always toting around, and Luz is next to her, her arm brushing against Amity’s, radiating warmth out from the point of contact.

Amity wouldn’t mind if she died happy right at this moment.

“It’s a little different, I think,” Luz tilts her head, regarding it thoughtfully. Then she picks up her phone, taps at it and holds it out in front of Amity. “Here, that’s the moon back home.”

It isn’t bluish like this one. Nor is it smooth, unblemished. It’s got marks all over it, remnants, Amity presumes of outside forces long gone by. Enraptured, she leans in for a closer look.

“It’s orange!”

“It was just that day,” Luz informs her. “It isn’t orange all the time.”

“It changes colors?” That was surprising. Also fascinating.

“Not — not all the time. It’s complicated, I guess.”

Amity likes the wide smile Luz holds when she talks about this. Luz is so expressive, she couldn’t hide her feelings to save her life. Most of the time in school, when being faced down by exasperated teachers Amity thinks of it as a curse. Now, however, at midnight, while it’s just the two of them, and she is privy to this unbridled display of everything that makes up Luz, she’s enamored.

“Why do you like the moon so much?” she asks, curious.

“Why do you like the sun so much?” Luz shoots back, playfully.

Oh. That one’s easy. “Because it turns everything golden. Because it’s airy and light. Because it makes me feel warm inside.” Because your eyes turn a particular shade in the sunlight and it’s hard to look at you directly, you shine so bright. Because every time the sun comes up, it is a precursor to me seeing you in school.

Because it reminds me of you.

Luz looks at her, her eyes uncharacteristically wide and serious. “I like the moon because it makes me feel seen. Because it’s almost as lonely as I am. Because I can trust it enough to know that it’s mostly always there, even if it’s behind the clouds at the moment.”

They’re staring at each other, eyes wide, and Amity can’t breathe. She thinks of a lonely Luz staring up at the night sky back in the human world, talking to the moon, and it twinges, sorrowfully, like a ukulele out of tune, at a place deep underneath her chest. Some strange mixture of I’m sorry you had no one to talk to and I wish I’d been there, I wish I’d known you back then — I’d have listened to all your stories.

“Plus,” Luz smiles, “it’s pretty.”

Amity blinks, and the spell is broken. Luz jerks, as if coming out of a dream, and stands up straight. Stammers, fumbles, makes a truly terrible joke about broomsticks and King and the annoying owl slash security guard slash housekeeper and runs off, leaving her completely confused.

*****

It’s when Gus finds out that Amity discovers that everyone and their parent has known about her Grometheus sized crush on Luz the entire time.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” He’s still sulking about it in a corner, while Amity is faced down by Willow, Edric, Emira, Eda and King at the same time.

“Nobody told anyone, strange little child,” Eda waves a hand impatiently at him. “We just have eyes.”

Edric casts a momentary silencing spell on him, but Amity is pretty sure he’s mouthing the words “But I have eyes too”. Not that she’s too worried about Gus. He’ll be fine.... eventually. It’s more the fact that she now has to figure out which parts of her behavior have apparently clued in the whole world to the fact that her heart is waddling around in an idiot’s chest, most times.

“How about the fact that you can’t stop smiling when I bring her up?” She does not—

“Or that you did some pretty advanced magic trying to save her when that Slither-Beast had us?” How did he-

“You nearly combusted when she picked you up after our Grudgby match?” It wasn’t that bad.

She buries her head in her hands. Then looks up at King.

“Do you want to add anything?”

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea until today. I just didn’t want to be lumped in with Gus over there.”

She stands up, picks up her bag. “Okay, I am clearly at a disadvantage here—”

“Mittens, come back,” Edric grabs the back of her shirt, lets her flail for a minute before she gives up.

“I just — I just wanted to get her something nice for her birthday tomorrow, okay? And instead I’m being ambushed by the entirety of Boiling Isles.”

“But we are trying to help you, kid,” Eda tells her, now lounging on the couch with King on her lap. “God knows I love that child, but she has not an ounce of common sense in her. There is no way she’s ever going to figure out you’re in love with her if you don’t—”

“—whoa, whoa, whoa, love? That’s — please — completely crazy — idea. I’m not — in — love. That’s—”

She’s not. She’s not. So what if she keeps interrogating Gus on human things so she can impress Luz with her admittedly flawed knowledge on all things non-Boiling Isles? So what if she hasn’t slept more than five hours for the past one month because Luz comes over at night and they end up talking until past midnight? What does it even matter that Luz is the only person who she feels any form of innate comfort around? Or that every time she lends Luz her jacket when it gets chilly, the sight of an awkwardly clad Luz in that oversized thing makes her heart feel full to the point of bursting?

That’s not love.

(Some strange whisper echoes through her head, leaving echoes of But it could be behind)

Luz is the sun, okay? Bright and beautiful and adored by everyone. There’s no reason she could, or that she even should pay attention to Amity. Her affection is easily given, evenly split between all her friends and the citizens of the world; there’s no way Amity could ever hope to exert enough gravity to make Luz notice her, no way she could dare to hope for a greater portion in Luz’s long list of priorities.

(After all, does the sun even know that moon exists?)

*****

“Come on, Amity!”

She presses her lips flat, tries not to burst into laughter at the sight of an impatient Luz, vibrating by her side, hands opening and closing in the air.

“I know you have a gift for me! And you’ve been hiding it from everyone! Nobody at the party knew!”

“Aren’t you tired from the party?” she asks, knowing the abrupt change in topic is just going to annoy Luz more. It had been a hectic affair, after all. Monster complications in the morning aside, the Owl House had seen an impressive number of guests who wanted to wish Luz a very happy birthday. An impressive number of guests along with an impressive number of gifts.

All except one.

“Nope. Not tired at all,” Luz tells her, promptly. “Completely alert and ready to receive the gift that I know you’ve gotten me but aren’t giving me yet, because you like messing with me.”

Amity twists her face into the visual equivalent of Who, me but conjures up a wrapped box either way. It falls into Luz’s outstretched hands, and then she has to tell her to shush unless they want Amity’s parents grounding her, forever.

(Not that it pleases her, much. She hates telling Luz to quiet down, because it tends to break her out of whatever spiel she is embarking upon, and Amity adores it when Luz rambles. Her eyes shine, and her hands move around animatedly, and her voice, her voice is so, so sweet she doesn’t mind it telling her about things she cannot comprehend)

She puts a hand on Luz’s right arm just as she’s about to unwrap it. “Luz,” she starts, already embarrassed, but determined to power through, “this, is probably not the best gift, and probably not even accurate as well, so you have to tell me if you don’t like it, okay? I’ve got other backup gifts I’d planned on giving you, so no worries, okay? Just—”

“Amity,” Luz cuts in, her excited smile morphing into something a little quieter, gentler, “I already love it.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

Luz shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, still looking at her. Only resumes unwrapping it when Amity nods. Opens the box, and thankfully isn’t looking at her when Amity starts talking.

“I tried — to make it as close to the real thing as possible,” she says, watching Luz look at the off-white orb in wonder. “King helped. He went on something called the, the internet? And turns out your moon has a lot of craters! But it’s pretty regardless, so I tried — to. Yeah.”

She’s not exactly surprised when Luz leans over and hugs her. They’re sitting side by side so the angle’s a little off, but it’s not like she cares. Luz, beautiful, happy, Luz is here and she’s solid in her arms, and she can feel her smile against her neck and Amity is going to die—

“Thank you.” Luz disentangles herself from the embrace, but still pretty close. “I — Amity. Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

But I want to. I want to give you things, and I want to give you things that you like and that will maybe remind you of me. She places a hand on the orb between them, sees it light up.

“It also does this,” she informs Luz, unnecessarily. Then places a hand again, watches it turn orange. “Changes colors. Like yours does.”

She finally looks at Luz again, after a moment of complete silence, only to see her staring back. The look in her eyes is so — so intense (Amity can think of no other way to describe it), that it makes her want to turn away and cover her face. Like it’s going to burn her up if she keeps looking into her eyes.

And then Luz quickly darts forward to press a kiss to her cheek, and Amity combusts.

(Only inside. You’d think it was possible, wouldn’t you? It was the Boiling Isles, after all. But no. Nobody had spontaneously combusted since Elaric the Great and as far as anybody could tell, it didn’t have anything to do with romance)

The kiss lands half on her half and half on her skin because she’s pretty sure Luz hasn’t exactly thought it through either. There’s a single, blissful moment of peace, and then then her heart goes into overdrive, beating away like it’s trying to catch a train.

Speaking of things trying to catch a train, however....

“I have to go!” Luz scrambles away, gets up. Her face looks red as well, and Amity, a little stumped, watches it happen, as though in slow motion. Even through her haste, she picks up the replica of the moon carefully and wraps it up in her jacket. “I’ll — see you tomorrow! At school! Where we both.... go. So. Yeah. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight?” Amity replies, softly.

Right before she’s about to climb down, Luz stops. Turns around, and very quickly says something that Amity for the life of her cannot figure out.

(Also, because she’s still in the tummy-woozy, mind-blank state of just having a kiss pressed to her cheek by the most perfect girl in the world)

“Can you say that again?”

“I, uh,” Luz slows down, deliberately, her voice coming out quieter. “Did you totally hate that?”

Oh.

Oh, gosh, the idiot.

Amity shakes her head, grins at her, hoping that says what she isn’t brave enough to say yet. “No, Luz. I didn’t hate that.”

*****

She keeps the picture of Luz’s tremulous, answering smile wrapped in the fist she presses to her heart a long time after she’s gone.

*****

And that’s how the story ends. With the sun smiling at the moon.

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #fanfiction #okay so i finished the owl house like yesterday and god do i think every single character in it is cute? hell yes #but amity! turns out im not immune to mean lesbians either because first episode and she was already my fav #also because she's exactly as much of a mess as me when i like someone #but anyways #here's a rambling oneshot i wrote about them being cute #also about them being the sun and the moon #so metaphors abound!

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akkalatechlabs · 3 years

Text

The Rise of Amadeus.

So after some talk with @artisticzaati I’ve decided I’ll post the side storyline that blossomed the most Amadeus art and really shows how he is at his peak. It’s written by him and I but I altered it a bit to make it more... readable for tumblr. You’re welcome!

TW: Extreme descriptions of violence and major character death.

Ravii awaited at the spot they made the deal at; Fort Hateno. The corrupted king sat upon a decaying guardian, looking up at the clouds slowly moving across the moon. Round and bright... Closing his eyes he listened to everything around him, the crickets, the wind blowing into the hollow guardians... it was honestly, peaceful. Not for long however, once that man step foot on the field, the kingdom was going to fall into his hands. If everything fell into place as he planned, like pawns on a chessboard, he would sweep this land and take it by force. It all depended on one man. The one who better hold his end of the bargain. If he did not show however...

Ravii takes out the locket in his pocket, looking at it. Opening it up it has a simple name in it beside the picture of that man and a woman together: 'Purah.'

"Purah... Hm.." He closes the locket and shoves it back into his pocket, "I will see you soon it seems." He sighs, hopping off the guardian.

Robbie, far from Ravii looked down at the new sword hybrid in his hands, swallowing nervously. This was all Ravii wanted and it was over.

Simple.

“... Alright. Alright! Get ahold of yourself...” Robbie whispers to himself.

(HE IS GOING TO TURN ON YOU.)

Robbie freezes in place. No... not him. Not now!

“... everything will be alright.” Robbie reassured himself and... the other.

Nodding to himself he walks to Fort Hateno, raising his gaze on Ravii walking away. Robbie inhales and runs over to meet him, breathing heavily.

“Wh-wait-! I am here, as promised! I... I also brought this, as promised!” He holds out the sword bladesaw combination, looking up at him for a moment then bows his head down, holding up the sword over his head.

“It is light and swift as a normal sword but when you pull the trigger, it activates the bladesaw part...” He swallows nervously, staring at the ground. He can feel the other's gaze on him. Looking down on him. Burning into him... He hated every moment of it. But he needed to protect Purah and their child from this man at all costs.

"Impressive... you made it pretty quickly too." Ravii raised an eyebrow, taking the sword out of Robbie's hands. He takes out his other sword to compare the two blades carefully. Testing out the weight of each blade. He swings the ancient tech sword, humming to himself. Swings his other sword right after.

Another amused hum leaves the King.

"You are quite talented. Never met someone who can craft such weaponry like this before..." He glances at Robbie, seeing his head still bowed, "You impress me." He pulled the trigger and gasped as it went off.

Immediately Ravii dropped his old sword on the ground to grasp the new blade with both his hands. Swinging it side to side, full force. Turning around he looks at the decaying guardian and swings at one of the legs, immediately cutting through it.

"It is incredible! Such power..." Ravii smiles and looks at Robbie once more, pulling the trigger to make it stop, using the tip of the blade to lift Robbie's chin to make him look up.

"You have my trust. All of it."

That was no easy feat.

Sweat dripped on Robbie’s forehead as he looked up at Ravii, forcing out a smile.

“Of course! It is always a pleasure to create new weapons... this was a difficult one but I did it! It is one of my best...” He slowly stood up, carefully pushing the tip of the sword away with his finger and took a deep breath.

“Are... Are we done here? I brought you the sword. That is all you asked for, right? Is... is there anything else?” The Sheikah regrets opening his mouth already. He HAD to ask if there was anything else... Careless again.

... As always.

Robbie's expression slowly changes to a grin, crossing his arms and shrugs.

"Not that I would give you anything else. The sword is all yours now, can I leave, your Majesty or whatever you are.”

Robbie suddenly snaps out of it, his eyes widen and he covers his mouth.

“NOT NOW... NOT RIGHT NOW... YOU IDIOT” Robbie thought to himself, directing it to the other.

“ ... M-My apologies I... I...” Robbie swallows nervously. The other one was going to get them both killed at this rate.

Ravii was taken aback by the sudden expression change of the other. His sudden... tone of voice and atmosphere around him sent the King to a genuine shock.

"... What did you say to me? Repeat yourself." He aims the sword to Robbie's face, the tip of the blade just mere inches away from nose. Ravii leans closer to Robbie, glaring intensely at him. Eyes sharp as the blade itself.

"Say that again to me." Ravii glared at the Sheikah.

Robbie’s eyes widen as he gazes at the tip of his own creation in from of him. Slowly his eyes travel up to Ravii's face.

“I... erm, I don't remember. I have this uh, c-condition it's uh... very serious. My brain just mutters weird things and I cannot control it!” This was incredibly unbelievable. Lying was not his best suit, that's for sure. But there was half-truth even with how ridiculous it sounded...

“K-King Ravii, I apologize if I said anything to trouble you. Please forgive me. I beg of you! I'll make it up to you! Another weapon! Or... or... just...” He had to remain calm, this would go very badly if he screwed it up.

“... Th-the guardians. I'll make you a custom one that only listens to you! I can d-do that! Simple!” Robbie held his head down now, looking at his own legs wobbling from the amount of tension and fear he was facing right now. He felt sick, unstable... as if he could faint right here from the high stress.

"... Such disrespect for me will end up being your end. Do not speak to me again like that." Ravii lifts the blade slightly, tilting it to the side, slicing a bit of Robbie's cheek deeply.

"... Understood? You are mine. You speak ill towards me and you will face the consequences. I do not care if you were to die, I'll get to you and..." Drawing back, Ravii nods his head up, ordering Robbie to stand.

"... Purah, was it? If you wish to go against my words or even disrespect me even slightly... her blood will be on your hands. Do you understand me?”

All the color in Robbie’s face drained when he spoke her name... He knew her name.

He... knew her name.

Purah isn't safe anymore.

More was at stake now. More than he could handle. He couldn't handle this, he wanted to run far away with Purah for safety...

Swallowing nervously Robbie stood up, wiping the blood that dripped from the fresh cut on his cheek against the sleeve of his jacket. Smudging the mixture of crimson red and a dark glimmer of black color across his cheek, making a larger mess on his face... His eyebrows furrowed as he hissed in pain between his clenched jaw. Being cut by his own created sword, at least he knew it worked... how ironic was that? Robbie forced a chuckle under his breath at the thought alone. How dare this man make a fool out of his work like this?

Ravii turns around – his back facing Robbie. His cape gracefully following behind him.

The symbol of the Triforce was on it... Ravii wore it with pride.

"Now tell me... these guardians." Ravii spoke, glancing at Robbie with a side glance over his own shoulder, "How can they follow only my orders alone? How do you make them listen to your orders? Is it those ugly things you wear?" Motions his hand to his forehead, speaking of the goggles.

"They do not work for me when I took them. Why do these 'guardians' only listen to you? What makes such a simple person like you so special?" Ravii spat at Robbie, glaring at the Sheikah. He turns around again, about to grab his collar until ... what was that black on his cheek? Ravii clicks his tongue, quickly inspecting the blood and whatever the black stuff mixed with it was.

"Are you... even a Sheikah?" Ravii spoke as he scoops a little of it on his finger and rubs it between his index finger and thumb, looking closer.

"What is this? And why does it...burn?" Ravii wipes it on Robbie's jacket, frowning. "Ugh...disgusting. Let us go, you strange individual.... Clean yourself up. I don't want to be seen with such a mess of a person."

Robbie slowly raises his hand to his cheek, wiping the malice mixed blood onto his hand and his vision starts to blur. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head to gain his focus back.

“Ah... y-yes. The guardians and I are uh, you see... we are linked by a telepathic force. It took a while to master it but with the help of the ma-... ancient texts, I figured it out. It is a technique only the Sheikah can master. Especially me, since I... I have ancient technology built into me.” Robbie smiled a little as he taps his left temple, showing his burnt-out eye as it flickers for a moment.

“Without me, they will go haywire. Well, the ones under my control. There are still some that I haven't gotten to save yet... but that aside! If you have me, the guardians will also be on your side!”

Maybe with that fact he won't get hurt again, Robbie thought to himself.

“Meaning you lied to me just now, didn't you?" The corrupted king looked down at Robbie, his grip on the handle shaking, twitching... aching to cut the man testing his luck in front of him again.

"So, what is the truth? Can they only listen to you or perhaps... they will listen to me if they see who is stronger? Is that it?" A crooked grin slowly arched on Ravii's face, his expression becoming more twisted before the other's eyes.

"They just need to see who is the true leader here! The true king! I will guide them... I will guide them all... rushing to get what I deserve. I don't think I even need you anymore..."

Robbie’s eyes widened at the King, “No-! No... I am not lying! If I make it from scratch, I can program it to listen to you. The other ones are harder to do that. I swear! If I were to get hurt or..." Robbie swallows nervously, “...worse, they will target whoever hurt me majorly. A simple cut will not trigger them... but anything more severe? They will all go haywire and out of control searching for whoever hurt or killed me. I would never lie about something like this.” Robbie glances at Ravii's hand clenching the handle as he spoke. He could tell this man was clearly unstable. Worse than Astor, even...

“I will make you many guardians that listen to your orders! I just need more time! More time... I swear it! Please...

... Please...”

There was a sob slipping in his voice, Robbie was becoming scared and couldn't hold back anymore. Tears were pooling up as he felt he was begging for his life right now.

Ravii shook his head, laughing.

"Look at you! The real colors come out when I drop you. You beg for a use again... how humbling... but also incredibly pathetic." Ravii leans down, face to face with Robbie and wipes the tears off the other man's cheeks.

"Fear not... your actions will not be in vain! I know people like you. You only live to be useful for others. Over and over... but there is always someone better, isn't there? A replacement. Just know... that you will always be in my heart. This senseless vicious cycle will end..."

Ravii smiled, patting Robbie’s chest where his heart was, "And I'll make sure your dear Purah knows how proud you made the kingdom with your sacrifice..."

Ravii drew his hand back and with a swift movement, he lunged the blade into the Sheikah's chest, leaning closer to Robbie's ear, smiling widely. "A worthy right-hand man you were."

Robbie's eyes widen at the sharp pain in his chest, slowly glancing down at his own creation... no...

Robbie tries to push Ravii away as he drew closer again to him.

“... ngh!” Robbie mutters out as his gaze started to blur. No... he can't do this. Everything was blurring.

The pain was unbearable.

Ravii pulls the blade out and kicks him onto the ground as he takes the locket out of his own chest pocket, tossing it beside Robbie.

"As promised... Now then... I have a kingdom to take over and guardians to control. Goodbye, Robbie." Ravii turns on his heel, swinging his sword harshly to whip the blood off his blade as he walks away from the other laying on the ground. Ravii picks up his older sword he dropped from before, placing it back by his hip as he carried the new sword in his hand.

“Pu...rah...!” Robbie whispers as he lays on the ground. Clenching his teeth, he tries to pull himself up - sharp pain would travel throughout his body with every movement.

He cannot let him get Purah. No.. No....

Ravii’s ear twitches as he heard Robbie muttering something under his breath.

"Purah? Oh, that dear one? I'll take very good care of her. She is a pretty one... Maybe I'll make her MY wife!" The King cackles.

“...Ra...vii!” Robbie speaks a little louder, making sure the other could hear him.

With his final breath he whistles for the guardians, glaring at Ravii, his eyesight clearing on the other man. Focused. Scanning. Making sure the guardians would destroy him from where he stood. Even with his last breath he would make sure Purah would be safe from this man.

Ravii, still cackling at the Purah comment suddenly pauses as Robbie whistles. Tilting his head curiously.

Robbie slowly pointed at Ravii as guardians flew over him. Ravii, raising his head glances up at all the guardians flying towards him.

Ah. This was his chance!

"Hear me, mechanical beasts! I have defeated your... leader. You must listen to me now-" Robbie cuts him off with his last breath, simple two words that made Ravii freeze up.

“... destroy.... him!" The Sheikah screamed in pure anger and hatred and dropped. He had no more strength to move anymore.

All the red pointers all focused on Ravii - as much as he adored the attention, he knew this would end badly.

"... You bastard." Ravii clicks his tongue and takes a deep breath, glancing at the lifeless man across from him.

"You were telling the truth, huh?" Ravii shakes his head. Sighing, Ravii rushes towards Robbie and skids to a stop, sitting beside him.

"Shoot me. Your leader here is in shots way... want to hurt him more? Go ahead you idiotic beasts." He glares at the closest skywatcher to him dead center to the eye as he pats Robbie's head, cackling.

"Come on! Do it. Or listen to me..." A smirk arched Ravii’s lips.

The skywatcher scanned Ravii and Robbie beside him. Errors popping up on their side of the screen. Not knowing whether to shoot or not.

“ . . . (bzzzt) . . . Smart.” That was... Robbie's voice from the guardian? No. It was more glitched than his voice.

What was that?

“You are pretty smart for a royal pain in the ass, I'll give you that.”

Robbie's hand suddenly slammed on Ravii's shoulder as he used him to sit up, shaking his head and took a deep inhale and exhaled. That same black ink from before was manifesting by the blade wound.

Ravii flinches at the sudden hand on his shoulder as if all time stopped, he slowly turns his head, seeing the man he watched just die rise as if nothing happened. Like a phoenix from the ashes, he rises again... but this wasn't the same man.

No. He could feel the overwhelming power from him. There was something dark within him and it chilled even Ravii - nothing ever made him flinch.

Not like this.

“That hurt, you know. I told him you would betray us and he fell right into that one, the idiot.” Laughing 'Robbie' pats Ravii's shoulder, leaning his face in front of Ravii's with a big grin on his face.

“How dare you kill Robbie! We were just getting along too! But fret not, I'll save him eventually...

... but!

Until then! It's my turn to shine!” The corrupted Sheikah quickly grabs the hybrid sword he made and stands up fully.

“Time to rock!” He smiles as he swings the sword by Ravii's face

"What?! How are you still alive?!" Ravii screams and goes to grab his old sword just as the other swipes it from him, swinging it by his face - cutting a few hairs hanging from his forehead.

He was faster than Ravii in the state. What happened for him to change?

"What do you mean? You speak as if Robbie has died yet you - Robbie - are speaking to me right this moment! Have you gone mad?" Ravii swallows nervously as he jumps to his feet. He draws his old sword from his side, holding it up while watching the other closely.

"...Just who are you?!" Ravii glares at him, standing his ground now.

‘Robbie’ laughs and points the sword at Ravii while walking slowly around him, gazing.

“Finally someone asks! But you of all people...” His grin grows wildly as his stare intensifies.

“... I am Amadeus. I do not know what I am, but I have a body and mind, anger and passion. Am I alive? Who knows what I truly am. Perhaps I am merely apart of Robbie who was caged for so long... begging to be freed, or someone of my own. Malice with mind and soul of my own somehow? Despite it all...

... All I know is I am alive....and that we are one the same - two sides of the same coin. Unlucky for you, you ran out of luck with this flip. And now that I have full control again thanks to you, well...” Amadeus flips the sword in the air and catches it by the handle, snapping his stare at Ravii again.

“I'm going to make sure you regret threatening Purah into this mess. Robbie begged for her safety and trust. I am not so nice like that.” His head twitches as he glares at Ravii. Thinking for a moment his expression changes, a mischievous grin on his face quickly flashes.

“I'll be kind, I'll pretend to be Robbie for a moment though, just for fun! How would you like to go? A beam from one of my babies here or a sword into your empty void where your heart is supposed to be like you did with us?”

Amadeus taps his arm in a ticking rhythm. Grinning still.

“Tick. Tick. Tick... hurry before I choose for you!”

... For once.

For once in Ravii's entire life, he was speechless and terrified. What WAS this man? No ordinary Sheikah... why didn't he sense that power around him? Did he somehow keep it locked away within him? No... there was no way he could have done that. Ravii shakes his head and glances at the guardians above and the ones quickly scurrying on the horizon. More were coming and he was going to be surrounded - no escape. He had to think quick... Maybe if he struck them like last time, he can kill this "Amadeus" as well...

"You say you do not know what you are... perhaps I have... no, I truly did underestimate you. If you join me, imagine what we could do together - you and I! You could then discover who or what you are! Don't you realize what you can do? With this... with these..." He raises his hands up, looking at the guardians above them, "... we could take over this kingdom so easily. Just you and I alone!" Ravii was clearly shaking and avoiding the choices of his own execution.

"We can take over together, Amadeus. You have so much potential... and you are wasting it on me. Why not of grandeur scale?!" He was pointing his sword at him now; his voice was panicked - he couldn't calm himself.

"Please! I beg of you! Work alongside me!" Ravii’s voice was laced with desperation and fear. He stood, watching the other tilt his head in thought as he screamed and plead for Amadeus to join him.

“Oh, what was that? You beg of me? Wow... doesn't THAT sound familiar or WHAT?

Say it again,

say it again!” Amadeus cackles, clapping and walks towards him as two guardian stalkers follow him closely.

“Yeeeow... muuuusic to my ears!” Amadeus grabs Ravii by the front of his cape and with his other hand he loops his sword around Ravii's sword, knocking out of his hand. Amadeus then slams him against the wall, glaring at him.

“Tick TICK...

Actually, that is too bad... times up.”

“Wh-?!” Ravii winced as Amadeus slammed him against the wall, staring at the corrupted man in horror.

Amadeus tilts his head and pulls the trigger of the sword, making the smaller blades go on, rapidly spinning like the bladesaw.

“You said you want to see who I am? Want to work with me? Well...

... I made my decision.

You hurt me twice with my own weapon, now you'll see it's ‘true potential’.”

Just as Ravii did to Robbie - with a quick motion he drives the sword into the corrupted king, not breaking eye contact as he does so. Watching Ravii as all the color on his face drains. Just like he did with them.

Pulling the trigger again the blades stop and he let's go of the blade, leaving it there lodged in his chest.

Ravii coughs violently as his eyes widened at the horror in front of him. Not the guardians or even the sword... that man in front of him. Ravii has never felt so much fear in his life. The sword he requested was now in his own chest by the creator himself.

“I work for no one. If anything, I want to see this kingdom in ruin by my guardians. No kings nor queens, no monarchy... nothing. I don't care.

... Oh, and you can keep the sword. It was made for you after all.”

Ravii’s vision was shaking, blurred... he felt panic, nausea... all at once and suddenly he felt ...

... Cold.

Dropping to the ground he glanced up at the glowing eye of the monster in front of him. No, not the mechanical beasts... that monster he let out of the cage. Amadeus' eye glowing a dark, deep red looking down on him.

Amadeus watches Ravii fall to the ground and his grin only grows wider. It would be the last thing he sees along with the guardians lasers aiming at him. He waves his hand as he picks up Ravii's old sword and walks away.

The fallen king watches Amadeus pick up his sword and walk out of his sight. Now focusing on the red lasers of the guardians.

Amadeus hum one last word that would be the last thing Ravii hears.

As if all time stopped, everything was silent.

“... Boom.”

The guardians fire their beams all at once and the king's scream were drowned out by the loud boom of the beams.

King Ravii was no more.

Nothing, nor even the sword was left.

Like the kingdoms he left behind.

#my writing.txt ;;#amadeus #ravii dominis ii #king ravii dominis ii #artisticzaati #// here you go everyone.#Amadeus at his PEAK #Also an excuse to sneak in some purobbie in there because I can #PuRobbie all day every day #This is from May 1st too... it's pretty oldish now.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 13: Paper And Ink]

A/N: Can I just take a second to say how happy I am to see all of your reactions to my little fic?! I have never been a super popular writer on Tumblr but I like to think that I have some of the cleverest, kindest, most thoughtful readers around. Your support for and emotional investment in my stories makes me so, so, so happy. Please enjoy this latest chapter...it’s the longest one yet! 💜

Also, MAJOR shout out to @writerxinthedark and her constant insanely astute observations!! Girl, I’m shook. Do you have ESP or what...? 👀

Chapter summary: Roger tries to reach a compromise, John tries to offer solace, Chrissie tries out some retro science, Y/N tries to process some alarming new information.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language! Discussion of substance abuse! Babies! Drama! Angst!!!

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You can’t leave,” John pleads. One of his hands—strong, nimble, a gold band on his wedding finger—is clutching the wooden bedpost. Chrissie paces back and forth beside him, gnawing her thumbnail until it bleeds, silent tears streaking down her ruddy cheeks.

You throw your open suitcase onto the bed and start yanking things out of drawers: panties and bras—the practical ones, not the sexy ones, I won’t be needing those in the immediate future—jeans, velvet dresses, sweaters, socks, mittens, scarves. It’ll be cold in Boston. “I’m going home.”

“Love, please...” Chrissie sobs.

“I’m not staying here.” Your voice is surprisingly steady, resolved even. “I’m not going to stay in this house with him. I’m not going to follow him around the world watching him fuck other women and humiliate me in tabloids. I’m done, I’m going home.”

“You have a contract with the record company, you’re the tour nurse!” Chrissie protests. “Jesus christ, they could sue you for non-performance! When does the band leave, a week from now?!”

“Six days,” John says softly.

“Six days!” Chrissie shouts at you.

“I’m not going. They can sue me, that’s fine.” I don’t have any money anyway. None that’s actually mine.

“You can’t leave,” John says again. His greyish eyes are wide and restless, desperate; you didn’t know it was possible for him to be this agitated. He’s not Queen’s unflappable bassist today.

“Yeah? Observe.” You pick the pink conch shell up off the dresser—the one John found for you on the beach in Ostia, during a tour that feels like a lifetime ago—and tuck it gently into a corner of your suitcase where it will be cushioned by knit sweaters. “John, I have a bunch of your sketches downstairs. There’re some on the refrigerator, some framed in the living room, a couple on the dining room walls...will you go get those for me, please? I can’t leave without them.”

John just stares at you, blinking and thunderstruck.

Next to the empty space on the dresser where the conch shell once lived is the Canon F-1. You consider the camera for a moment, then snatch it up and move to hurl it out of the second-story window.

John jolts out of his paralysis. “No no no no, I think you’ll regret that.” He gently pries the Canon out of your grasp and places it back on the dresser.

“What the hell are you going to do in Boston?!” Chrissie wails. “All your friends are here now! Your life is here!”

“I’m going to get a job at the hospital and marry some boring, predictable man and get a house with a white picket fence and fill it with two exceptionally average children”—if I can have them, and that’s a big if as it turns out—“and a golden retriever and live out the rest of my days in blissful, prosaic anonymity. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on, you don’t want that!” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve never wanted that, that’s why you came to London with the band to begin with!”

“I don’t want to feel like this!” you scream, and all those tears you didn’t know you were biting back start spilling out in hot, torrential streams. Your breath hitches; your throat burns. Like wildfire. John pulls you to his chest, murmurs that everything will be okay, cradles the back of your head with his palm. You know he’s exchanging a glance with Chrissie over your shoulder. That’s why she brought him here, after all; to help talk you off the ledge, to help convince you to stay.

“What a fucking mess,” Chrissie says in despair.

“It’s my fault,” you choke out.

“It’s not,” John whispers.

“It is,” you insist bitterly, sobbing into him. “Everyone warned me and I ignored it because I’m a complete idiot and now I’ve gone and ruined my life.”

“You don’t have to go!” Chrissie implores. “You can stay here. With us, with me and John and Mary and Freddie and Brian. You have British citizenship, you can get a job at a hospital in London if you really want to leave the band. You can stay with me and Bri for as long as you need to until you’re back on your feet, or with Freddie...they’d give you any amount of money you needed to get started...they’d be heartbroken if you left, love, you’ve been there for them through everything, since Queen was just a bunch of nobodies, since we were all flat broke...they’re never going to forget that loyalty you showed them, that faith. They’d do anything to repay you.”

You sigh shakily as you untangle yourself from John and wipe your eyes. “If I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life dodging Roger at birthday parties and holidays and restaurants. And being known as the wife he fucked around on. I’ll be a pitiful mess of a person. They had a photo of me in the News Of The World, did you know that? A tiny little circular photo under a huge, glamorous one of Dominique. ‘Look everyone, check out the dashing rock star’s sad, pathetic, unremarkable, soon-to-be-ex-wife. Surely you can appreciate why he’d shop around.’”

“Yes, I saw that part,” Chrissie says softly. She understands some of what you’re feeling, surely, and yet she must also have a sensation of gratefulness; plenty of musicians wander like tornadoes, touching down and sowing chaos wherever their compulsions take them, but few wives have the misfortune of seeing their names and faces paraded through the tabloids. Suddenly, Chrissie isn’t the most-wronged wife in Queen anymore.

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god. My parents might even hear about this. They could be buying wine and Cheetos at the grocery store and see my husband and his girlfriend on the cover of a magazine in the checkout line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chrissie replies, her voice hoarse. John crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing; but he kicks the wooden bedframe hard enough to send a crack down the center of the footboard.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Chrissie and John whirl to you, panicked.

“Hey, love of my life!” Roger’s chipper voice vaults up the staircase. Someone hasn’t checked the headlines yet. “Baby? You home?”

“Do you want me to stay?” John asks you.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. I’ll hide in the goddamn bushes outside the window if that would be helpful.”

“No, John.” You smile and climb onto your toes to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, to hug him goodbye. He’s warm and comfortable and sheltering. He feels more like home than this house ever has, isn’t that strange? And for a second, just one, you wonder what your life would look like if there had been no Veronica, no Roger.

You’d still be in Boston, you idiot, you chastise yourself. You never would have come to London with Queen if it wasn’t for Roger. And You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about you.

“Thank you,” you tell John. “But I have to do this part myself.”

“Okay. Don’t you dare go cart yourself off to Heathrow without telling me first, alright?”

“Sure,” you say, not meaning it. I can’t let him stop me.

“Good luck,” Chrissie frets, wringing her hands, twirling her wedding ring. “Call me, okay? I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I hear from you. I’ll chew my poor fingers to the bone.”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Hey baby!” Roger materializes in the bedroom doorway, pushes his prescription sunglasses up into his windswept blond hair, peers around the room at you and John and Chrissie. And you’re suddenly reminded of how a room changes when Roger walks into it, how everything shifts somehow, becomes brighter, more alive, brimming with magnificent potential; how cavernously empty the world would feel without him in it. Chrissie glares at him with her arms crossed, nostrils flaring, tapping one fashionable riding boot against the hardwood floor. “Uhhhh...am I interrupting something?”

“Bye, love.” Chrissie kisses you quickly on each cheek and breezes out of the room. You hear her boots clopping as she descends down the staircase. After a moment, John follows her.

“You despicable prick,” John hisses as he passes Roger in the doorway.

Roger is mystified. “Baby, what’s going on?” His eyes flick to the hastily packed suitcase, to the cracked footboard. “What the fuck happened to the bed?”

There are so many ways to ask the same question. When did you decide that you needed to have her? Who is she to you? How could you do this to me? What did she give you that I couldn’t? Instead, what you ask him this: “Have you seen the News Of The World today?”

His brow furrows into deep grooves. “No...” But something primal flashes in his vivid blue eyes, just briefly. Something like fear. He knows he’s done things that would hurt me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unearth them all.

You grab the magazine off the bed and hurl it at him. Roger picks it up off the floor and flips to the front page. His shoulders slump, one hand comes up to cover his mouth, he exhales in a deep sigh; his whole body shifts the same way a room does when he walks out of it: dims, deflates, goes bloodless. He calmly lays the News Of The World on the dresser, folds his sunglasses and sets them down as well, rubs his eyes with the heels of his calloused hands. Then he turns to you.

He’s going to deny it, you think, revolted. He’s going to deny it just like Brian did, try to patch things up in some weak and gutless way, placate me so he can drift off to sleep at night imagining he’s a good husband.

But Roger isn’t Brian. He never has been.

He asks you quietly, in surrender: “What do you want to know?”

Your stomach plunges into freefall, because this is real. Maybe there was some part of me that was hoping this was a mistake, some naïve and hopeful sliver of idealism left over from childhood, from a time when everything in the world was either good or evil and nothing lived in the treacherous shadows in between. “How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Roger, it matters.”

“Not long.” He waves a hand glibly. “She...ah...well she thought I was pretty maddening at first. It took her a while to come around to the idea.”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped. “Jesus christ, Roger. Thank you, that’s great, thank you for that information.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he protests, exasperated. “I’m really not, I don’t...I just don’t...bloody hell, I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what? To fuck around?! Obviously that’s inaccurate—”

“No, to confess!” he shouts. “I never confess, I never admit it, I just avoid or deflect or deny it, and when that doesn’t work anymore I just walk out because usually I don’t care enough to have the conversation. But now I do so I’m really, really trying to give you what you want. I thought you wanted answers. So ask me whatever you want to and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Everyone lies. Everyone disappoints you. I knew that, I really did...but somehow I let him convince me that I didn’t. That he was built of nothing but light. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s a fling, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t corner her somewhere and tell her that you’re planning on breaking up with me.”

Roger winces. I wasn’t going to end up like Josephine, that was the first promise I made to myself on British soil. And look where I am now. “No. Never.”

“Why, Roger?”

He looks away, runs his hands through his hair; he genuinely doesn’t know how to answer.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you even sorry...?”

He speaks carefully, purposefully. “I’m sorry you had to find out, that you were hurt by it. And I’m really fucking sorry about that headline. Discretion is extremely important to me. I never would have let that happen, but you know...” He shrugs, smirking guiltily in that disarmingly bewitching way that he does. Stop, you warn yourself, feeling something in you grasping for reasons to stay. “I haven’t been thinking especially clearly lately.”

“Yes, between the coke and the drinking and the pills you’re quite the disaster, aren’t you?” Scalding tears slither down your face. “So you’re not sorry you did it. You’re not sorry that you’re an addict or a cheater.”

“It’s not about that. It’s...” He searches for the words like premonitions in tea leaves. “Yes, there are drugs and parties and women. There are a lot of those things. But I’m not addicted to any of them. I’m addicted to being Roger Taylor, drummer of one of the best bands in the world. It’s everything I am, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. I never want to live in a world where that’s not who I am anymore. You understand that, what it’s like to feel caged and miserable, you know what it’s like to want to experience things. And so if it takes coke and pills to get up on that stage every night and drum under those blinding lights until it feels like my arm is split open again, okay, no problem, I’ll do it. If women are a part of the lifestyle, a part of being free, then I’ll take advantage of that. And why the fuck does it matter? Why do so many people think that fidelity is the ultimate manifestation of love? Plenty of faithful people hate each other. Plenty of people who screw around are irretrievably in love with one person, are fucking owned by them. I love you. I want to come home to you. I want to raise my children with you if that’s a possibility, and if it’s not then fine, whatever, I’m gonna love you all the same. You’re still on my list, Boston babe. You’re always going to be on my list. Why isn’t that enough?”

“John doesn’t cheat,” you object helplessly. Even if he has all the reasons in the world to.

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s a very different kind of man. A better one, probably. But you’ve always known who I was. And I never promised you an ordinary life.”

You shake your head, hide your face in your hands, can’t force the words to leave your trembling lips. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I thought it could be, but it’s just not.

Roger says, gently: “I know we said the marriage didn’t mean anything”—yes, that was your condition, wasn’t it?—“but that’s not completely true. It’s not just paper and ink. It does mean something. It means that you’re the person I want to take care of, the person I can rely on to provide for my family and friends if something ever happened to me. It means that I love and trust you in a way that is unconditional. That you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to live like this, Roger,” you whisper.

“So what’s next?” he demands. “So you’re going to take that suitcase and run back to the States and...what, get a job at the same hospital you were so desperate to escape from? Back out of the tour? Abandon the band and the friends you have here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you.”

For the first time, you hurt him; you really hurt him. You see it ripple across his face like cold, swirling ocean waves. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided, Roger.”

“Come on, baby, please, we can work this out—”

“I’m not interested.” You zip the suitcase closed, heave it off the bed, and drag it towards the door.

“So even if we can’t work it out,” Roger erupts, bolting to the doorway, to stand between you and whatever a life after him looks like. “Don’t leave the band. Leave me, just me, but not the band. I know you don’t want to leave them. I know they’ll be devastated if you disappear, not to mention they might legitimately murder me over it. Bri can be a twat, sure, but he’s convinced you saved his life. You and I might be the only people on the whole fucking planet who can see how brilliant John is, who understand him. Freddie’s convinced you’re some kind of good luck charm, you know how superstitious he is, he’ll start having those meltdowns again where he insists he can’t sing five minutes before a show and that the band is doomed, the tour will be a complete disaster. We need you. And I want you to keep the job you love, the travel, the mansion, the money, I want you to have all of it. You’ve earned it. You shouldn’t lose it because of me.”

And as you clutch the handle of your suitcase, your mind dashing from one logistical step to the next—grab my passport and some cash out of the safe, collect all of John’s sketches, call a cab to take me to Heathrow—you start remembering things. But you don’t see them like flashes, like misty reveries, no; you feel them like heat from a roaring fireplace, like Mediterranean pebbles digging into the wrinkled soles of your feet, like the deafening screams of crowds filling the Rainbow Theater, the Hammersmith Odeon, the Apollo, the Budokan, Madison Square Garden. Memories of excavating shards of glass from John’s hand in a New Orleans mansion crawling with fantasies and nightmares, of toasting pink champagne in the lobby of the Chelsea Register Office, of museums and parks and beaches and apartments filled with threadbare couches and extravagant dreams, of Christmases and New Year’s Eves, of Roger convincing you to come to London with Queen on a June morning in 1974, cradling your face in his rough hands, promising you everything you’ve ever wanted: ‘Love...Accept. The fucking. Offer.’ And you could run to the other side of the world, sure; but you’re never going to be able to carve those memories out of your bones.

You let go of the suitcase, and Roger’s smile lights up his face like the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful...careful, love...” Roger contorts himself to keep the umbrella over you and the Boston cream pie you’re carrying as rain pours out of a sinister grey sky. You both hurry beneath the roof that covers the front porch and ring the doorbell. Freddie answers wearing a tight green shirt, jeans, and an enormous toothy grin.

“Oh, for me?” he squeals, eyeing the pie.

You step inside as Roger stays out on the porch to shake off the umbrella and finish his cigarette; Chrissie hates people smoking in her house, and one should get what they want on their birthday. “Obviously, it’s for Chris. But I suspect she’ll share.”

Chrissie appears in a blue dress, her wide-set pale eyes alight as she gazes at the pie. “At last! I finally get to try one of these! And yes, Freddie, I’m only going to have the teeniest tiniest piece, so there will be more than enough to go around.” She embraces you and takes the pie. “Is this homemade?! It is, isn’t it?”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie,” you announce with a tired smile. Queen leaves for the News Of The World Tour in two days. You’re leaving with them, to everyone’s palpable relief; Freddie and Brian have never mentioned the headline to you, but they know about it of course. Everybody knows. It’s an elephant in every room, an ancient beast that quakes the floor when it walks.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Chrissie tells you. “I always do.” But she’s a little thankful, too; because spending months away on tour is undoubtedly preferable to a permanent absence, a visibly missing piece like a chip in a tooth.

“I know. I’ll call.”

Roger steps inside the massive Chelsea home. “Happy birthday, Chris!”

She promptly spins away, ignoring him, and ferries the pie off to the kitchen. Freddie wraps an arm around Roger’s shoulder and steers him into the living room where Mary, John, a perpetually pregnant Veronica, and a host of assorted Mullens and Mays are passing the twins around like footballs and chatting over appetizers and tea and cookies. Biscuits, you correct yourself. And the shrimp cocktail are called prawns.

“What did you say your name was?” a middle-aged, rotund, bearded man asks John disinterestedly. “Josh? James?”

“John, actually. I’m the bassist.”

The man frowns as he gobbles down a shrimp. “Oh, how odd, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Yeah?” Roger pipes as he sails over and claps the man aggressively on the shoulder. “Well let me introduce you. This is John Richard Deacon and he wrote You’re My Best Friend, you’ve heard of that one, right? He learned the electric piano to compose it. Yes, he doesn’t just play bass, he has all sorts of gifts. He’s massively talented. He builds amps and manages finances and can sketch pictures that look like freaking photographs...”

You wander into the kitchen where Chrissie is slicing herself a miniscule portion of Boston cream pie. “Oh fuck it, it’s my birthday. I’m having a proper piece of pie, thighs be damned.” She goes in for a second attempt. “You want any?”

“No, I’m alright. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Not compulsively consuming your own weight in snacks to avoid socializing with strangers? That’s unlike you.”

Well, since you asked, I was feeling even more piggish than usual until I found out my husband was fucking somebody else, and also that the entire country knows about it. “Yeah, weird.”

Brian enters the kitchen. “Oh, pie!”

“You want a piece?” Chrissie asks cheerfully. So they’ve made up somehow. Like they always do, like they always will.

“Yes, absolutely, but I’ll get it myself, love. You go enjoy yourself. It’s your day.”

She beams up at him and journeys out to the living room. You are in no rush to join her. Watching Roger charm the crowd, allowing him to dazzle you, to lull you back into his orbit like the subsidiary moon of a vast, ringed planet...no, you have no stomach for that at all. You pour yourself a glass of red wine and try to swallow without tasting it.

Brian’s doting demeanor evaporates like he’s taken off a mask. He sighs, mixes himself a Vesper, sips it as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies you warily. “How are things?”

“Paradisiacal.” Each night you sleep in the guest room with the blue-grey walls and the seahorse-patterned blankets. Roger tried to give you the main bedroom, still sleeps in a spare room in case you ever decide you want it; but you like that the blue room is smaller, more humble, that it smells like John’s brand of cigarettes, that there is no gaping emptiness where Roger usually is. Roger doesn’t try to talk to you about Dominique. He is attentive, optimistic, easygoing, affectionate; he lights the fireplace in the living room and brings you hot chocolate, he wears the red hat you once knit him every time he leaves the house. But he left the paperwork showing he’d sold the apartment—the ‘London Love Nest,’ isn’t that what the headline called it?—out on the kitchen table where you would see it. You know he’s waiting for you to forgive him, as if that’s an inevitability. And every once in a while you feel a guttural stab of fear that he might be right. Someone puts Hotel California on the record player out in the living room. “Every time I hear this goddamn song I get acid trip flashbacks. I start thinking of sharks for some reason.”

“It reminds me of...” Brian’s gaze goes murky. “Well, of a girl from New Orleans.”

The one from the hot tub. The one with a peach tattooed on her shoulder blade.

“We have a stop there,” you say. “You know, on the tour. We’ll be there for a few nights.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

No, perhaps that’s all he’s been thinking about.

“How are you these days, Bri? Two beautiful children, adoring wife, We Will Rock You becoming a fantastically successful single...your world must seem pretty golden.”

“You’d think so.” He peers out the window where raindrops are clinging to fogged glass and the November skies are illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning like Morse code. At last he says, very softly: “I think I married the wrong person.”

“I think I did too.”

Bri raises his eyebrows and clinks his Vesper against your wine glass. “So we were both right. Fantastic. Cheers.”

You gulp down the rest of your wine, feeling your stomach roil in protest. You pour another glass. Brian drains his Vesper.

“You want me to escort you out there?” Brian asks, gesturing towards the living room. “I’ll happily redirect everyone’s attention towards the twins if you’d like. They’re very convenient conversation starters.”

“No, thanks Bri. You go ahead.”

“Alright. If you insist.” A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us, love. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. And I’m sure things won’t feel easy for a long time. But Queen wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there before I punch you in your fragile liver.”

Brian laughs, sets his glass in the sink, and disappears into the living room. You stall in the kitchen by yourself. You sip wine, browse through the family photos displayed on the refrigerator, listen to the polite chatter of the guests from a distance. Eventually you venture towards the living room before losing your nerve and veering down the hallway towards the back porch. Outside the rain is falling torrentially, the sky rumbling with thunder. John is sitting on a wooden bench under the roof and smoking as he gazes out into the storm.

“Hey,” he says, sliding over to make room for you on the bench.

You sit down beside him and hold out your hand. He stares at you for a moment, puzzled, before passing you his cigarette. You take one long drag and give it back to him. John blinks at you, stunned.

“That’s extremely bad for you,” he teases.

“So is getting hammered and driving into cop cars.”

He clutches his chest. “Ouch. I felt that in my soul.”

You shove him, chuckling. He points down at your boots. You swing your feet up to rest in his lap, and he lays his left hand on them while he smokes with his right.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I know you might not want to talk about it. That’s fine. But if there’s any baggage you’d like to unburden yourself of, I’m listening.”

I’ve got baggage, all right. I’ve got enough to fill a Boeing 747. “Everyone warned me. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea to fall in love with him. Everyone except you, John. Why is that?”

He’s slow and deliberate when he answers. “I never wanted you to be with someone because...you know...because you thought you should be with them. Because they were the ‘smart’ choice or the ‘safe’ choice or whatever. I wanted you to make your own decisions, whatever those were. I wanted you to be with someone...whoever that was...only because you wanted to be. Because you loved them.”

You nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I told you once that it didn’t mean anything to someone like Roger when he...you know. When he does what he does. I was telling the truth then, and I’m telling the truth now. I don’t think it meant anything to him. And I don’t know if that kills any of the pain I know you’re feeling, but I hope it does. Because you being in pain is the absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted. Are you angry with me for not trying to change your mind?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you mean it. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because they took away my driver’s license for a year and I’m probably going to need a lot of rides from you.”

You laugh, a brash authentic laugh, and John grins over at you.

Chrissie hauls the sliding glass door open and steps out onto the porch with a frustrated huff. “I know this party is technically for me, but when you’re the mother of infant twins sometimes all you really want is a smoke, a nap, and a bottle of vodka.” She lights a cigarette and plops down into a chair facing the bench.

“How are you, Chris?” What you mean is: Have you screamed much at your husband lately?

“I’m doing pretty well today, actually.”

“Is that because you’re genuinely happy or because you’ve trained yourself not to be sad?”

Chrissie smirks. “You’ll find those feel like the same thing after a while.”

“No, I won’t find out. Because I’m not staying with him.”

“Love...” Chrissie begins.

“I’ll stay in London. I’ll even stay with the band. But I’m not going to stay married to him.”

“Y/N, please, maybe you should think about this,” Chrissie presses. “I know you love him. And I know he makes you wonderfully happy when times are good. Maybe that’s all we can ask for, you know? Wives in our predicament. Maybe we can learn to cherish them when they’re with us, bottle up the magic, store it on a shelf to tide us over until they come back home. No one else is going to light you up the way he does. There’s only one Roger Taylor. Withdrawal from that is going to be hell.”

You glower out into the wind and rain and say nothing.

“And that woman, Dominique Beyrand? I’ve asked around about her, she’s got some husband back in France that she goes home to when she’s not working here. It’s just a fling for her too, it’s nothing serious. I don’t think there was any chance he would have ever considered actually leaving you for her.”

“He bought her an apartment, Chris.”

“Men do stupid things that don’t mean anything all the time. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Sure,” he offers ungenerously.

You stop yourself before the words tumble recklessly from your lips: Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, Chrissie. “I’m divorcing him,” you vow quietly.

“Okay,” Chrissie capitulates. “Okay. I’m sorry, love, please forgive me. I only got two hours of sleep, Teddy was crying all night.” She puffs on her cigarette and sighs mournfully. “I hate to say it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I guess it was sort of lucky you never got pregnant. Can you imagine trying to split up when you have children together? Working out custody and finances and holidays, having to pretend like you don’t want to disembowel each other all the bloody time...it would be torture.”

John glares at her, his left hand still on your boots.

“Yeah,” you respond; but now you’re distracted, because you remember the reason why you had been so determined to ignore the phone when Chrissie called to warn you about the News Of The World headline. Because the kitchen phone was right next to the calendar, and the calendar would report in no uncertain terms that your period was due.

When was that? A week ago?

You can’t be late. You’ve never been late.

“Oh god,” you breathe.

“What?” John asks, concerned.

In reply, you lurch off the bench, stumble to the edge of the porch, and vomit red wine into the wet grass like a gush of blood. Chrissie soars to you and rubs your back as you retch into her lawn. “Oh no, you poor thing!”

“John, go away,” you choke out as he approaches. “I’m humiliated, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You saw me in a jail cell. I’m staying.”

You turn to look up at them. They read the raw horror and shock in your eyes. John’s jaw falls open and he shakes his head, firmly in denial. You could relate.

Chrissie gasps. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“No fucking way,” you wheeze. “After all this time, after all those months of nothing...”

“You better take a test,” Chrissie says. “Come on, I have a kit upstairs.”

She pulls you to your feet and leads you to her bathroom, deftly avoiding the increasingly intoxicated crowd downstairs. John waits just outside the door as Chrissie rummages around in the closet for the test kit. It’s a contraption that looks like a chemistry set, with a dropper and a test tube and a stand with a mirror. You piss into a paper cup—successfully although not with flying colors—and wash your trembling hands in the sink with a piece of pink soap shaped like a seashell. Then you lay on the cold linoleum floor with a folded towel for a pillow and a bucket within reach. Chrissie trickles a few droplets of urine into the test tube, mixes in the contents of a small plastic vial, and places the test tube in the holder that suspends it above the mirror.

Chrissie explains to John: “If she’s pregnant, the chemicals will form a brown ring in the tube. If there’s no ring, we’re in the clear.”

“How fitting,” you chuckle from the floor, dazedly, cynically. “That would be the only ring I’ve ever gotten.”

It takes two hours. The three of you loiter in the bathroom, Chrissie and John perched on the rim of the enormous garden tub, fidgeting and chitchatting anxiously. They alternate popping downstairs, mingling just long enough to not arouse suspicions, bringing back biscuits and bits of toast that they futility try to coerce you into eating. Chrissie doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes in the house, she never has; but now both she and John are chain smoking as they wait and periodically get up to check the test tube.

“This isn’t real,” you whimper. “This can’t be real, right? There’s no way the universe has this ironic a sense of humor.”

“Wait, something’s happening.” John waves Chrissie over to the test kit. She examines it.

“Love...” Chrissie begins, her voice tentative, her eyes glossy.

“No,” you insist. “No way, no fucking way, I don’t believe this...”

Chrissie turns the kit so you can view it, so you can see what she does reflected in the tiny mirror: a single dark ring that informs you you’re carrying Roger’s child.

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eirist · 4 years

Text

A Taste of Summer II

SUNKISSED

One-shot #: 5

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T (Teasing… Flirting… lots and lots of teasing and flirting. Plus a hint that they probably will have an unwritten sexy time.)

Note: Last prompt for the ZoNami Week 2020 at zonamievents in Tumblr. Day 5: Tan Lines. And it only took me months to finish this collection. But it’s done so I can now start my Autumn/Fall prompts.

Summary: His grey eye met hers. And the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was hotter than the sun she loves basking under.

It vaguely registered to him how brilliantly her orange hair shone against the sun.

How it glowed so radiantly…

Vibrantly…

As fiery as her personality.

Any more thoughts running inside his head came to a standstill when her lips slanted against his to deepen their kiss, prompting him to give her more access to his mouth.

She hummed—a rather, satisfied sound—as her fingernails scratched lightly against his scalp.

Her other hand started rubbing the well-defined muscles of his chest; his own was grasping her by the nape, pushing her closer to him while his free arm all but caged her body against his as their kiss turned aggressive.

She shifted on his lap slightly, pressing herself to him as they continued their lip lock.

They were on the top of the island’s lighthouse. Nami had seen it when they docked a few days ago and figured it would be nice to get a view of the whole area from that vantage point. But she only got the time to put her plan to action today—after arm twisting him to accompany her by reminding him of his accumulated debts these past few weeks from all the stress and waiting he subjected her to.

He wasn't all too happy to acquiesce and she already expected that. So she threw in a promise of an undisturbed nap and some booze from the Sunny's secret stash as well.

That changed his mind and sealed the deal.

So they headed towards the old white structure after breakfast despite the irritating, non-stop whining of that stupid love cook about how his Nami-swan shouldn't be left alone with him—the idiot moss head.

Once at the top, Zoro settled down the wide gallery deck as Nami set up her surveying tripod and telescope.

The moment she finished… she made herself at home on his lap.

What was supposedly a 'thank you' kiss had turned into a full blown make out session. And now they are kissing each other like there's no tomorrow.

This is most likely the result of all the tiptoeing they've been doing around each other these past weeks. Ok, more like the tiptoeing HE had been doing these past weeks… because Nami already knows what she wanted and was just waiting for him to come around.

“Mmmm…” she murmured against his lips, finally managing to pull away after a little while. “At this rate, I’m not gonna finish surveying this island.” Her voice was husky, eyes a bit unfocused as she gazed at him.

“Not my fault,” Zoro drawled, stealing one last kiss on her lips before giving her a rather arrogant smirk. “I’m not the one who got comfortable in my lap.”

“It IS comfortable here,” she agreed cheekily, her hand still rubbing at his pectorals.

"I can see that."

“You complaining?”

The corners of his lips quirked up some more and he shrugged.

Her laugh was melodious as she untangled herself from him.

He must say... he was rather disappointed. How can he easily miss the way she was wrapped around him when it was just merely seconds ago?

"You should stop distracting me Zoro," she teased as she stood up.

"Can't help it if you can't stay focused on what you're supposed to be doing."

Nami just chortled at his response. There was that certain twinkle behind her brown eyes as she regarded him... a naughty gleam he had just recently got accustomed to seeing.

She gave him a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin before swiveling around to finally pay attention to her surveying tools.

Zoro leaned back against the metal wall, hands behind his head, ready to pass out anytime as Nami gradually gets into her zone. It’s not like he will be able to disturb her without risking an increase in his currently renewed debt. Plus, she did promise him booze and an undisturbed nap.

And damn he’s going to get 'em both.

He yawned widely as he felt himself relax at the soporific sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below. His grey eye flitted towards Nami to check on her first before he succumbed to sleep.

The swordsman silently observed her… admiring the serene look she had on her face as she scribbled and doodled on that small notebook she had remarkably pulled out somewhere from her tight, pale yellow sundress.

Her orange hair whipped wildly across her face, prompting her to tilt her head towards the wind so they will be blown back and away from her pretty face…

…and sun-kissed shoulders.

“Quit staring at me Zoro,” she suddenly said, looking back at him with a smirk. “You’re making me blush.”

He scoffed.

She snickered at his reaction and went back to charting the island.

He, on the other hand, went back to watching her.

Her brows were furrowed in what could only mean deep concentration. She chewed on her lower lip as she focused on whatever was jotted down her notebook.

He always marveled at the discipline and effort she puts out for her beloved maps. It was almost the same as what he devotes to his training and swordsmanship.

When she’s like this… Zoro realized that he can stare at her forever.

“You’re still looking, Zoro,” her playful voice broke into his thoughts.

He blinked up at her.

Nami was eyeing him again. Though despite the mischievous grin on her lips, he can see that her cheeks were slightly flushed and he knows that it has nothing to do with the sun.

He inwardly smirked.

“I take it you like what you’re seeing?”

He returned her grin with his signature shark-like one. “And if I do? Are you going to charge me for looking?”

“Yes. That’s 200,000 belis added to your debt.”

“200,000 belis are for groping.” Zoro pointed out, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She looked genuinely surprised that he knows that.

“How come I owe you 200,000?” He asked, frowning. “Wait, don’t tell me you put a price on earlier?! I didn't grope, you greedy onna!”

“Idiot,” Nami reached down to pinch his cheek. “That doesn’t have a price. The charge is for catching you ogling at me twice!”

“The hell? You sure are evil,” he grumbled, wrapping a hand around her wrist. A wicked smile suddenly appeared on his face and he tugged her down to him.

She easily let him pull her right back into his lap… arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

“And that’s why you like me,” Nami joshed, beaming at him.

“Who says I do?”

She pouted. “Didn't you kiss me because you like me? Oh you wound me!”

The corner of Zoro’s lips twitched amusedly. “You’re mistaken.”

“Am I really?”

“Really.”

"That wasn’t what you said last night.”

She was right. He did say that when they finally talked about what happened in the orchard after they sneaked out of the villa for a late night stroll along the beach and almost got caught by Robin and Franky.

And Brook.

And Usopp.

And Sanji for crying out loud!

Why are their crew mates such night owls?

Luckily they were able to wrap things up about their relationship and managed a kiss or two before nearly encountering their still awake and about friends.

“Hello?” Nami tapped his forehead with her knuckles. “Are you still there Zoro?”

“What?” He must’ve zoned out, thinking about yesterday’s events.

“Getting lost in your own thoughts huh?”

"Shut up."

He playfully sank his teeth on one bare shoulder.

“Hey!!!"

Zoro grinned roguishly at her and immediately planted a kiss on the spot to appease her. “Can't resist. You're being more cheeky than usual."

Nami scowled at him. "Biting will cost you another hundred thousand belis!”

"Just put it on my tab. You have my permission to cash my bounty once my debt reaches it.”

Her eyes widened. Then she sniggered. “You must like me so much that you’re actually willing to be surrendered to the marines.”

“Yeah.”

She blushed when he easily admitted it but instantly recovered her composure as she tossed her head back and laughed loudly.

Damn! Who knows Zoro can be endearing sometimes?

Nami kissed his cheek adoringly. “I’ll hold on to that. Nothing can make a woman fall so hard than a man willing to be handed over to the marines.”

“To cash out his millions worth bounty.” Zoro added.

“To cash out his millions worth bounty.” Nami agreed with a wide smile. “I really like that part a lot.”

“Tch. Of course you do. You're a money fiend after all.”

She laughed again and childishly stuck out her tongue at him. “Priorities Zoro.”

“Glad to know I’m one of the least.”

“Uh-huh,” she nipped him on the jaw. “Now I'm going to focus on my other priority," she gestured to her equipment. "The earlier I finish, the sooner we can head back. Robin and I planned to sunbathe while we babysit you boys. Pretty sure you all want to run amok and play before we leave this island.”

“Is that why you’re wearing a swimsuit underneath this?” Zoro inquired as his fingers played with the thin strap of her dress.

“That and you know how spontaneous our crew is. First it's a barbecue party then the next thing you know one or three of our idiot hammers’ in the sea, drowning."

“You rarely go after our hammers.”

Nami rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “That’s because we have you and Sanji-kun for that.”

“Hnnn…” he traced the strap on her shoulder before his finger strayed off path, to run along the bikini string that was diagonally traversing her collarbone.

She shivered slightly under his touch. Something inside her immediately sparked.

“I don’t see why you still need to sunbathe,” he was saying as he hooked a finger on her strap, nudging it to the side. “You’ve already had too much sun while we’re staying here.” He touched the tan line she was sporting underneath. “Still not roasted enough?”

Nami looked indignant. “What the hell do you mean by that?!”

He chuckled, dipping his head down and kissing the still pale skin.

And she melted just like that... her annoyance instantaneously dissipating. A familiar heat crept up her entire body and she groaned. “Damn it!”

He was looking smug. Absolutely liking the way he affects her.

This is better than he expected when he kissed at the orchard.

"Thought we're here to map and nap Nami?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. She was slowly learning that Zoro can be a tease when he wants to.

But she wasn't the kind to just let him one up her. Together or not she wouldn't let him take the upper hand.

She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Oh," her voice took on a flirtatious tone. "Here I thought you want to see and touch more."

Apparently Zoro was thinking just the same thing.

“Of course I do,” he played along, whispering in her ear. “How about you lose the dress? Lemme see those tan lines you worked so hard to get?”

It took all her willpower not to let her jaw drop in pure amazement.

Was he really the same person who was hesitant to make the first move? Who managed to turn his back on her while she was top naked in front of him after skinny dipping on the lake?

Who consistently refused to kiss her despite every damn opportunity they have until he cannot stop himself anymore?

She heard the low rumble of his laughter as she just stared blankly at him.

“Is this…” she managed to say after a few seconds of short circuiting. “Your not-so-subtle way of saying you want me naked?”

“I think I’ve waited long enough Nami.” He stated in that deep, lazy yet light-hearted voice that she was secretly fond of.

A delicious shiver of anticipation ran all over her body and made her skin crawl.

“And you actually want me to believe that Roronoa Zoro’s actually interested in things like tan lines and a naked girl?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“You!” She exploded when she saw the corner of his lips twitching. Her moron swordsman was trying not to laugh. “Quit teasing me, you idiot!” She bopped him on the head lightly as he finally laugh out loud.

She glared at him as he continued laughing at her expense.

This is going to be one hell of an interesting relationship.

With a vexed-sounding huff, she scooted away from his lap to stand up, giving his leg a nice, good kick.

Zoro caught her by the ankle. Still grinning up at her, he said, “Just go back to your mapping Nami, I still want my nap.”

“Damn right you still do! By all means kindly please pass out now!”

“And booze.”

“I will drown you later in favorite sake!”

He threw her a cocky smirk as his thumb rubbed circles on the inside of her ankle. “The sooner you finished the better. We can continue where we left off back at the villa.”

Nami raised an eyebrow at him. “Where we… left off?”

His grey eye met hers. And the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was hotter than the sun she loves basking under to get tanned.

“You actually thought I was just teasing you?”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #zonamiweek2020 #zonamieventstumblr #zonamievents

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nonbaznary · 3 years

Text

Carry On Countdown - Day 08: Rain

AO3 // Read it on Tumblr below the cut! Words: 948

Boys like me belonged to the rain: “Simon loves the rain, even if enjoying it as he wants made him get a cold. At least he has Baz to take care of him.”

General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Relationship: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow

Characters: Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch

Additional Tags: rainy day, Kissing in the Rain, Dancing in the Rain, Simon Snow is an Idiot, Simon Snow loves the rain, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, rain fluff, Fluff, Sickfic, Sick Character, Simon Snow has a cold

This work is SO late oh my gods !! I stayed outside in the rain for a bit today and felt like writing / posting this (finally). Shoutout to my cold !

Boys like me belonged to the rain

— I hate to say this, love, but I told you so.

Simon laughed and shook his head. With him lying down and Baz sitting on the bed, he could clearly see the amusement in their eyes. As worried as they were, Baz was trying not to smile.

— You’re lying. You always enjoy saying that you told me so.

— I do,— Baz smiled, giving Simon a quick kiss in the forehead.— but I don’t personally appreciate seeing you like this.

That was mostly true. Taking care of Simon in such a deplorable state – slight aches all over his body, sneezing, weak, rough voice over his sore throat, watery eyes; warmer than his usual, but not enough to pass as a fever and make them worry about the flu, and not just a silly cold – was definitely not Baz’s favorite pastime. Not the “taking care of Simon” part, of course – they’d love to spend the rest of their days taking care of Simon and not worrying about anything else forever – , but the sickness part.

Baz wasn’t there earlier, when it first started to rain. Simon had just finished baking cookies, fresh out of the oven. He was about to take a first bite when the tap-tap-tapping on the window started, the first drops of rain announcing their arrival. Simon went ahead and opened the closest window, sticking his arm out to feel the rain. He immediately smiled when he felt the water in his skin.

Simon had always liked the rain. So much. The sound of the rain, the looks of a rainy day, the grey and the clouds and the cold weather. The rain made him feel more at peace.

Suddenly, feeling the drops in his arm wasn’t enough.

Without bothering to get a coat or shoes or an umbrella, Simon ran to the door, and then downstairs. It was after four flights and opening the front door of the building, still in his pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, that he heard it and froze

“Snow, stop!”

Baz was just getting out of their car, umbrella in hand. They closed the car’s door and ran from their parking spot to the front of the building, where Simon stood.

“What are you doing, you dolt?” Baz stepped inside and closed the umbrella, pulling Simon back with them. “You forgot your umbrella!”

“Hello to you too, love.” Simon scoffed, though he meant it. He hadn’t seen Baz in a few days, and they were coming to spend the weekend. He’d missed them. “I didn’t forget anything, Baz. I was just going out in the rain for a second!”

Baz stayed silent for a moment, blinking at him.

“You’re not wearing any shoes.”

Simon let out a small, impatient laugh.

“Merlin, I’m just going out for a second, I don’t need shoes.”

“You’ll get leptospirosis or something worse, you absolute madman.” Baz huffed.

“I won’t get sick,” he said, you know, like a liar. “I’ll just go out and feel the rain for a few seconds! Rain for itself can’t make you sick.— he rolled his eyes, stepping forward again.”

“No, rain for itself indeed cannot make you sick.” Baz grabbed his arm. “But you’re barefoot and underdressed, and the viruses for colds and other illnesses spread more easily in low temperatures. You’re already stressed and tired because of uni this last week, your immune system will hate you forever if you go out in the cold. You’ll definitely catch something.”

“My body temperature’s always burning up, Baz. I won't get cold and sick this easily.” he squeezed one of their hands and ran to the front door, finally stepping out of the building.

Oh, yeah. This was the stuff.

The rain was so strong. In just a few moments, Simon’s clothes were soaked. He was ecstatic. The thunder, the smell, the feeling of freedom and the rain kissing his skin. It was all so good and beautiful, it made him want to cry. He opened his arms, and looked up, embracing the wonder.

Simon only realized that he was actually giggling when he felt two hands touching his waist. “You’re mad!” Baz said in his ear.

“You hypocrite!” Simon turned around to face them, their arms wrapping tightly around him. “You came too!”

“I can’t get sick.” Baz said, even though their biggest worry was their clothes. Their shirt was so pretty. Why didn’t they stick with their umbrella? “And it seemed like you were enjoying this.”

“Oh, Merlin, your hair.” Simon laughed, touching the drenched tips of Baz’s hair.

“Don’t mention it.” Baz sighed. “Your nose is already red.”

“‘s not. We’ll take a hot shower and I’ll be completely fine.”

He wouldn’t. But still, they stayed in the rain, talking and kissing, enjoying the feeling of the summer storm hugging them. As they laughed and danced to the sound of thunder, Simon was sure that the rain was at least a little bit magickal.

After their warm shower and Simon’s constant sneezing, stuffy nose and sore throat, he thought that maybe it wasn’t that much of a good idea.

— At least I have you to take care of me,— Simon held Baz’s hand.— Even when I ignore your advice and everything goes wrong.

— It’s still just a cold, dear.— Baz smiled.— But, yes. You’ll always have me.

Simon smiled back at them.

— Hey, if I’m already sick, I can go out if it rains again, right?

— Aleister Crowley, help me.— they sighed.— I am not taking care of you if you get pneumonia for going out in the rain against my advice more than once.

— Oh, please!— Simon laughed.— We both know that’s not true.

It really wasn’t.

[ My other works for the countdown ]

#simon snow #baz pitch #carry on #carry on countdown #snowbaz #carry on countdown day 8 #rain #fanfiction #sickfic #fluff #pen and paper

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jjpmoans · 4 years

Text

Fixing it | pjy ft mkt

w.c : 3k+

a/n : This fic was written last year on the same date, when I was busy studying for my finals. I didn't get to finish it and was only able to finish it months after that. So I kept it in my draft for this year's birthday instead. Happy Birthday to the first person I met on Tumblr, the person who helps me to who I am on Tumblr now. I wish that you'll live long and you'll live happily. A lot of things happen but you're still in a special place in my heart. Happy belated birthday @prettywordsyouleft . I hope you like it, though i don't know if it is good or not!

You pull over your car in front of a workshop, grumbling as you calculate the amount of money that will be robbed by the mechanic once they see your car. You are not familiar with car workshops simply because it's not your field of expertise. Usually, the men in the household will take care of the cars while you take care of simpler things like yelling you are hungry and make food for yourself.

But your car wasn't being cooperative for days now, making loud sounds whenever you were driving. Your last straw was your air conditioning somehow became affected by the whole thing and now you have two things to complain about.

So you awkwardly stop in front of a garage which you had never stepped into before. Not that it is special, like you said, you had never directly negotiated with any of them. The only thing you had ever done was take the car when they're ready. This is a new thing for you and to talk with men with oil or dirt all over their faces is nerve wrecking.

Timidly, you step inside the garage, music greets you by blasting loudly against your eardrum. The garage smells like the mixture of grease, tires and also sweats. More specifically, boys sweat. It does not help when some random machine suddenly blows noises out of nowhere and it adds to the chaos you are dealing with. God you are starting to get headaches.

You jump when you accidentally kick a leg which is on the floor and you realize that there is a person underneath the car when he rolls out smoothly from under the car and groans. "You little piece of fucker- oh!" he stops when he sees that you are standing there with wide eyes and a scared face.

"Sorry, I thought it was my co-worker." he apologizes, before he sits up on his creeper and crane his neck to shout, "Customers! Someone who is not a fucker and sits inside the office all day, come tend your customer before I slice your balls."

You nod, cringing at his colorful vocabulary while you stand there awkwardly, waiting for someone to help you. The mechanic lays down, looking at you apologetically, "Sorry but someone will help you. I need to fix this quickly before the owner comes."

Then you both hear footsteps and whip your heads. Another mechanic is coming towards your direction. He throws the spanner into the toolbox, wiping his hand with a cloth and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah get back to your work Jaebum." he falls into step in front of you, casually kicking Jaebum's creeper and pushing him back under the car. "And stop cursing in front of customers." You can hear Jaebum spilling another set of profanities again and you hold yourself from laughing at his immediate reaction.

"Okay so miss?" the mechanic claps his hand and brings you back to reality. "I'm Jinyoung and what is wrong with your car?"

You blink, suddenly have the inability to speak because wow, he looks good up close. His hair is so fluffy and very healthy for someone who works under the car everyday. His body is lean and god, are that arms? Oh god they look really buffed and toned. Is this how mechanics look like? Why didn't you discover this fact earlier?

You heard a long sigh, automatically your head snaps just when you are about to praise other things, you watch him take a long breath and clamp his lips.

"Girls. Of course they don't know what's wrong with their car." he grumbles under his breath and you snap back at his word.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Bring me to your car, I'll check it for you." his eyes search for your car and when he spots it, he marches to your baby with you running behind him.

"Hello? I know what is wrong with my car!" you shout while trailing behind him. Stopping just in front of your car, Jinyoung raises his hand to his waist and stares at you.

"Well?" He crosses his arms. "Explain."

You take in a deep shaky breath because your level of annoyance skyrockets after this awfully rude Jinyoung man tries to say that you're ignorant towards your car.

"Well, it makes sounds. But definitely not the engine. It doesn't make a loud sound, but it halts a few times when I stop at the red light." You explain smoothly, the proud feeling when you manage to make him shut up and listen to you is making a concert inside your heart. "Also, it starts to affect the air-cond."

He nods, walking towards your door to inspect. As a reflex, you drop the key in his hand and he unlocked your car, starting the car. Your car roars to life, you anticipate the moment it changes the momentum and starts to halt.

But it doesn't.

You wait for about two minutes and still nothing comes up. No halt nor loud sound. Jinyoung, one hand on the door and another on the door frame, raises his eyebrows in question.

You stand there, feeling betrayed. It has been days and the car never stopped making those noises but suddenly when you decided to stop by the garage, it suddenly stopped making noises?

Impossible.

"What's up?" Another mechanic shows up, walking toward your direction.

"Well this miss said that the car has been producing loud noises but when we test it, there is none."

"This miss has a name." You bark. Jinyoung ignores you, gesturing to the other mechanic to come closer.

He presses the accelerator pedal and the car roars in no time. Still, there isn't any noise.

"I swear it makes sounds!" you claim when Jinyoung and the others throw you side-eyes. "Maybe she's just afraid of you guys." you reason.

That is completely nonsense and you know better but you don't know how to defend yourself from two gorgeous guys who are currently giving you cynical looks.

The other mechanic bursts into laughter and Jinyoung follows him right after. Well, it seems like they love your humor but that does not mean they will drop the joke.

"I think she's shy with us. Maybe she is more comfortable with girls." Jinyoung laughs. How dare him to mock you! If only you can pull out his teeth. "Should we change into bikinis and skirts Mark?"

God, why are boys so irritating!?? The car is still roaring behind them and sounds nothing like a problem and now you think you started to hate your car. How can she make you look like an idiot?

They both laugh again and not until the Mark guy tries to stop himself from collapsing. "You bet Jaebum will beat our asses for wearing skirts."

Jinyoung gives you a quick look and realises that you are not fazed with their humor, given your straight face. He lets out a snort, handsomely even snorts are supposed to be embarrassing, before talking to you. "Please, I'm sorry for laughing. But it was really funny. Imagine ME in a skirt!"

"You bet." Jinyoung bursts into laughter again watching your anger rising. His eyes crinkle and his lips are widely stretched, maybe he's not that bad. He's handsome but he's a pain in the ass.

A handsome pain in your ass.

Just when you about to retort whatever thing Jinyoung just mocked you, you hear a faint snap coming from the car. Mark apparently notices something is wrong and taps Jinyoung before both of them land their eyes on the car dashboard display.

"Temperature is increasing in Jinyoung." You do not understand anything but you are sure that means things are not good. Both of them watch the display again and while Jinyoung gets in the driver seat.

"Now miss. That is your car problem." In a blink of an eye, Jinyoung is already driving the car into the garage, leaving you and Mark behind.

"Come on. You need to sit down." Mark says, walking you back to the garage. "You are going to hurt your feet."

"Is this your first time coming to a workshop?" he asks. Unlike Jinyoung who made rude remarks at the first of your meeting, Mark is sweet and all smiles, making you feel at ease.

"Am I too obvious?"

Mark laughs, nodding along. "Well you are. It is not common for people to say 'maybe she's afraid of you guys' when their car doesn't seem broken like they think. Most people are really confident that their car does have a problem."

You can feel your cheeks redden at his words. Of course you panicked. It was not making any sense. You have suffered for days from the noises and it just disappeared when Jinyoung and Mark checked on your car. Now you think that maybe your car has a thing for handsome guys.

She's not wrong and her choice is really good. Mark, Jinyoung and Jaebum are stunning. Mark being the most stunning of all, you've concluded that. While Jinyoung is a pain in the ass and Jaebum is hot but full of curses.

You seat yourself at the side, watching the guys start to operate your bonnet. Though it is not that comfy considering there are a lot of sport rims and all sort of fluid behind you. Admittedly, you never like garages because it tends to get messy with oil and all but these boys are clean from them.

Maybe that is why they have a lot of customers. The huge garage alone shows that their business is good.

"So." Jinyoung's voice makes you jump in your seat. God, why is he like this? "Oh, did I scare you?"

"Well, obviously." you mutter. Jinyoung grins, showing his perfect white teeth. "Can you, i don't know, be more gentle when you try to talk?"

"Not my fault that you're daydreaming."

You groan at his reply. Damn, you should not expect anything from him. "You're so annoying. What is it?" The more you let him annoy you, the more victorious he will feel.

"Your car fan broke down." he explains. "And we need to change that. Basically, the motor won't move. When the motor doesn't move then the fan will not move. If it does not move, are you listening to me?"

You snap your attention from Mark who is walking behind Jinyoung, bringing some equipment for Jaebum. Narrowing your eyes, you mentally scold Jinyoung for taking away your attention from an ethereal man who looks too handsome to become a mechanic. He should be a model. Or he can work as your boyfriend. You wouldn't mind.

Jinyoung sighs, tired with your lack of attention. Your eyes focus on him again, muttering an innocent, "I'm sorry, what?"

"No, you're not sorry," he says. You roll your eyes. "And I am saying that you need to change your fan and it costs around 280 dollar."

You mentally calculate it and figure that it will be quite a price. Sucking your breath, you ask him a question as to confirm your decision.

"Will it be broken again?"

"What?"

"The fan." you say. "If I change it, will it break again?" You need this piece of information. Or will it be a waste of your money to fix this one and another keep breaking again? You know your trip to Garage Seven will be worth the time but money? You wince at the thought.

Jinyoung stares at you confusedly and begins laughing for no reason. In the span of fifteen minutes, you have been making Jinyoung either mocking or laughing at you. What are you? A clown?

"What? Why are you laughing?" you ask. "Hey don't laugh, I am serious!" you try to sound stern but fail miserably when Jinyoung hiccups from laughing too much.

"Sweetheart." your heart jumps at the endearment but still annoyed at his laugh. "Your question is basically like asking a doctor will the cancer still be there when you go through chemotherapy."

He still giggles but much more controlled than before. "Of course I don't know that. For now, the fan isn't working so that is the main problem. You need to monitor your car and check it daily. If there's no other problem then it will not be broken again."

"So it won't break again then." You conclude. "I'll change it then." Jinyoung shakes his head, crouching to your level, one knee almost touching the floor and another supporting his arm.

"Why? You want it to break again so you can come to this garage to meet me?" The corner of his lips curve upward. God, you really want to wipe the smirk off his face. He looks completely dangerous and you are not prepared to fall for him.

He grins, winking before getting up on his feet again, heading for your car, joining Mark in the process.

"The princess says it's okay to change it." He says loudly, you contemplate throwing the nearest screwdriver at him.

You watch them operating your car, both of them fall into work in silence, standing side by side while one works on removing the fan, another one passing all the equipment. Their dynamic is really good, no wonder they attract many customers.

Handsome face, wicked smile, dynamic teamwork. What else?

"Here." A bottle of mineral water appears, you look up to see angel Mark smiling widely at you again. What did you do in the past week to have an angel smiling at you like this?

"Drink it." He says as you take the bottle politely and uncap it. "You need to drink in while waiting. It's not going to be long."

He points to Jinyoung, who is working hard to replace the fan. A few strands of hair fall to his forehead, beads of sweats covering his face. "Jinyoung is an ace at repairing. He repairs a lot. Cars, motors, bicycles, machines. Name whatever you want. He's really good at fixing."

"Let me see. Hm. People's hearts?" you shoot down a question. Realising that it might come off awkward, your eyes widen and you frantically raise your hand to correct it. "Oh god- I mean-"

To your surprise, Mark bursts out laughing, eyes crinkling and lips curve upward. His laugh, though you have heard it before, sounds like heaven. Suddenly there is this light behind him and he looks like an angel from heaven. God, how come your creation is too perfect?

"I can fix people's hearts too." comes Jinyoung, cutting off your moment. Why!?

"Why? Is your heart broken?" he wipes his hand on the towel, squatting down to your level and looking up to you. "Who is that guy who breaks your heart?"

Mark looks at you curiously. You are stunned, not knowing what to say. Breaking is an understatement. Men have caused permanent damage to you until you don't think you are looking for love anymore. You will just settle for your life at the moment. But right now two men are staring at you curiously and you want anything to break your heart and ask any of them to fix it.

Damn you're so dramatic.

"It was an old story. Shouldn't be talking about that anymore."

Your answer throws them into silence, both nodding and getting back to work on your car. Not that you don't want to share, however opening a closed wound will only make it worse. Also, your memory of that case is a blur because you opted it's the best to let go instead of hanging on to the pain.

"Ohhh pretty customer!" Another mechanic passes by you and you look up to see him in a beanie, a huge steel necklace hangs around his neck. With soft stubbles on his face, he smiles cheerfully at you.

"Ah! Welcome to Garage 7 miss!" He chirps. Different from them three, this one is a little bit exciting about everything. He doesn't have to jump for you to see through his eyes that he is an over excited one. "My name is Jackson but you can call me yours."

Everything happens so fast that you can register. You blink, followed by the two mechanics earlier, Jinyoung and Mark. Both of them stop in track, staring at Jackson incredulously. Funny that you feel the urge to laugh after watching Jinyoung and Mark are about to throw the pliers in their hand and Jackson who's hand is extending out for you to shake.

You burst into laughter, taking Jackson's hand to shake him. "Call you mine? No thanks. I'll call you Jackson."

Jackson shakes your hand again, slowly becoming too long for a hand shake. Your hand is already aching and you're one second away to pull your hand.

"Drop your handshake Jackson." Comes Jinyoung's warning, chilly and almost sends you into a panic. "Don't touch what's mine."

"I'm not yours." You retort. He cannot take away a good opportunity from you.

Jackson grins, dropping your hands altogether. "Oooofff I feel something burning." he jokes.

"You're dangerous miss. It's the first time both Jinyoung and Mark look like they're going to murder me at the same time. Usually only one of them."

Chuckling, he leaves you, walking over to kick Jaebum's leg, earning a handful of curses. You turn to ask about what Jackson says, only to be greeted by no one.

About ten minutes, Mark comes with your car key and your receipt, holding them to you. "I think it's okay now." He offers a smile, exchanging the paper between you. "Sorry for Jackson's and Jinyoung's behaviour just now."

You look down to read the receipt, your eyes falling to the scribble at the bottom of the paper. Heat starts to warm you, your cheeks tints when you meet his eyes again.

"I'll walk you to-"

"Mark!" Jaebum shouts from the office. Mark whips his head so fast that you are afraid that he'll snap it, turning back apologetically.

"Sorry. Jaebum needs me. I guess, we'll meet again?"

You nod, watching him walking backward toward the office. His smile, his eyes crinkling and his hair falling on his forehead makes it ethereal for you to believe that is actually happening.

'Call me!' He mouths, before getting inside the office.

Still in state of shock and giddy, you enter your car, reversing her out of the garage. As you change your gear to drive, a hand knocks on your window.

You lower the window, your sight being greeted by the upper body of a man. Slowly, he lowers his head, hands on the door frame, supporting his weight.

Jinyoung's eyes meet yours, soft and excited. He exhales his breath quite hard, showing that he runs to catch you before you leave.

"What's wrong?" Comes your question.

"Give me your phone." He asks. You look at him, trying to decipher what he means. "Your phone." He directs his eyes to your phone sitting on the passenger seat.

"Why should I give you my phone?" You ask, nonetheless giving him your phone. You absolutely have no idea why he asked for your phone.

He presses the keypad on the dial, pressing the green button before you can even stop him. "Hey!!! Who are you calling!!!???" He put it on your ear, waiting for it to connect.

Right then, a distant ringtone echoes from his back. He fishes his back pocket with his hand, bringing it to his ear.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Lord. You're damned.

[ Writings ]

#the moans writings #got7creators #jinyoung #jinyoung got7 #jinyoung got7 fanfic #jinyoung got7 fic #mark #mark tuan #mark tuan got7 #mark tuan fic #mark got7 fic #got7 mark fic #got7 mark fanfic #got7 jinyoung fanfic #got7 jinyoung fic #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #happy birthday chelle!#sorry for the late wish!

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syilcawrites · 4 years

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archived memories | 4

Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Type: Multi-Chapter Main pairing: Zelink (Zelda and Link) Rated: T Tags/Genre: pre-calamity, fluff (middle chapters mostly), hurt (toward the last chapters lmao), pining Summary: bits and pieces of zelink scenes strewn in between the canon memories in botw! Snippet from Ch 4: “It smelled like him, a smell she could only compare to the word comfort, with a mix of grass and dirt; like the forest. All the things she liked bundled up into one tunic, and her heart swelled.” A/N: Between Memory 5-7 I scrapped two other chapters in favor of this one and the next, since they felt quite bland... Hope you enjoy reading this! You can also read it on ao3! Click here to see all chapters on tumblr

Chapter 4: thunderstorm

Zelda held up a weak hand as she battled to get air in her lungs, coughing. She struggled to stay on her legs as she bent over, a hand on her knee, almost wheezing at this point.

He placed a hand on her outstretched arm, gently tugging it to try and usher her forward. He looked at her with urgency, but Zelda found it physically impossible to continue.

“Just a second—I, the air is so thin up here it’s hard for me to catch my breath.” Zelda said in a raspy voice, gulping. “Or maybe, just go on ahead with me—“

Zelda let out an airy yelp when he swooped down and lifted her, tucking his arm under her knees with the other on her back. Zelda was too winded to really protest, and she actually did not mind the little break. An apology was at the tip of her tongue, but it disappeared once he began jogging, and her breath once again escaped her as he ascended. She tightened her grip around his neck as the cold, biting wind hit her face.

They were to meet with Mipha in Zora’s Domain, but it was Zelda’s idea to trek through the mountains as a little detour since she hadn’t really explored the mountains around, and it would’ve been the perfect opportunity.

But she may have overestimated her lung capacity. Just a little bit.

Something cold—colder than the wind—pelted her cheek, drawing her out of her thoughts; then another. Until an onslaught of tears dropped from the clouds above them, and Link almost slipped on mud as he made it under the rock shelter he was aiming for.

“Oh dear,” Zelda grumbled, thanking Link as he set her down on the ground. “The rain came out of no where…” They both gazed out into the pouring rain, loud and overbearing. She could hardly hear her own heartbeat against the thrum of the rain drops slamming against the rocks.

When she returned her attention to Link, he looked troubled. And it was probably her fault.

“I’m sorry for getting us into this mess,” Zelda smiled weakly at him. He looked at her thoughtfully and shook his head, a smile replacing his frown. “I guess it would’ve been better if we just stayed on the path. I’ll have to stop myself from being so insistent on taking spontaneous excursions during our duties.” Zelda exhaled, watching her puff of air evaporate into the rain.

“That’s how you find interesting things though,” Link mumbled under his breath.

Zelda blinked.

Link… mumbled something.

He said something?

Zelda whipped her head at him, eyes wide.

“Did you just speak?”

He startled at her loud voice, flinching.

Even when she apologized to him after the Yiga attack a couple months ago, he didn’t utter a word to her. Her face glowed with happiness as she took a step toward him, hands clasped together in front of her.

“Please, say something again!”

Link raised an eyebrow, straightening his posture once more. He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly, glancing up at the ceiling of the rock shelter. “Hi, I’m Link?” He offered with his small smile and an awkward wave of his hand.

His voice sounded rough, raspier than she thought. It was noticeable that he did not speak much, and it reflected in how hoarse his voice was. But for some reason, it spread warmth within her, to hear his voice after all this time.

Zelda could almost burst with happiness—she wasn’t sure why she was so delighted, but for some reason an overwhelming sense of accomplishment overrode her exhaustion, and she threw her hands up in the air between them, laughing.

“I never thought I’d see the day where you’d speak!” Zelda exclaimed, her voice echoing around them. She knew he simply decided not to talk—she heard him sort of speak once before, with his father, but he was so quiet she wasn’t sure if she just imagined it. She knew all the secret areas of the castle during the time she kept trying to hide from Link and had snuck up on them speaking in one of her old hiding spots.

“I’m so glad! I mean, I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for quite a bit now. I want you to feel comfortable, since you’re stuck with me afterall.” Zelda blushed at her forwardness and cleared her throat, taking a step back from him. She averted her gaze, switching back to her usual, composed self. “A-Anyway, I’m glad. That… that you are okay with speaking. Around me. More comfortable, I mean.” She hoped her sudden, odd excitement didn’t scare him out of it.

She peeked at him when he didn’t say anything, and he simply stared at her as if he was trying to hold in his laughter. Zelda pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. Embarrassment slapped her cheeks as she let out a huff. They stood there in silence for a bit, watching the endless rain fall down.

“Hungry?”

His voice startled her out of her daydreams. He held out something wrapped in a piece of cloth.

“Oh, thank you.” She accepted it gratefully, peeking into it. It wasn’t much—baked apples, but it made her stomach grumble all the same. Right when she opened it up, Link was quick to snatch one, gobbling it in practically three whole bites.

“Save some for the rest of us won’t you?” Zelda took a small bite out of her own. He was always a quick eater; she would watch him golf down whole meals by the time she was barely half done with hers.

As she ate slowly, Link laid out a blanket he had down on the ground behind her. When she looked back at him quizically, he patted it, motioning for her to sit down.

“You’ve got mud all over it now,” Zelda frowned. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He stared at her, waiting. Zelda sighed and took a seat, making sure her muddy boots didn’t touch it at least. With a grunt he stood back up and stepped closer to the opening of the little shelter. He lifted his arms over his head.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Her voice paused his movements. He turned around and nodded. Zelda held out her hand in an attempt to stop him, but he held up a finger and smiled before jogging out into the rain.

“What could he possibly be doing out there in the rain?” Zelda mumbled, finishing the second to last of the baked apples. She wrapped the remaining one up, opting to save it for Link when he was back.

She leaned back against her arms, waiting. Watching the rain. It was slamming against everything hard enough that it had started up a mist, to the point where she could hardly see anything.

After some time, she scooted closer to the edge of the blanket, so she could draw her knees up to her chest without her boots touching the blanket, and hugged herself for warmth. She hummed to pass time as she closed her eyes, tapping her toes to the rhythm of a lullaby that her mother would sing to her whenever Zelda was feeling tense and troubled.

It didn’t sound as elegant as how her mother had hummed it, but it lulled Zelda into a sense of security. For a brief moment, for once in a long time, she felt okay.

Thunder jolted her from her short-lived peacefulness as it struck a tree right over the cliff in front of her, leaving it fresh in flames before the pelting rain sizzled it out.

Any warmth she had conjured up immediately evaporated as her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Link!” Zelda scrambled up, shouting into the rain. Her cries were drowned out by the rumbling in the sky. “Link! Where are you?”

Zelda cursed under her breath, pacing the entrance of the shelter as she racked her brain for… for an idea, for something. It would be soundlessly idiotic to go and try to search for him in a rainstorm—a thunderstorm at that now. What use would she be if he found her fried?

But she also didn’t want to simply sit and wait like a sitting duck, but what could she do if she even went out?

Zelda let out a groan of frustration—why did he even go out in the first place?

She jumped in her skin as another roll of thunder shook the ground, and she grabbed onto the walls of the rock shelter to stabilize herself. She let out a string of curses as she gripped her hands together, trying to stop herself from shaking.

Her ears perked up when she heard something out in the rain—tapping, some kind of.. loud pattering, heavier than how the rain sounded.

She squinted out in the rain, leaning.

Then she saw him, looking frazzled and unlike his usual composed self, sprinting toward her general direction, but his eyes looked lost as he frantically looked around. His arms were full with bundles of—

Of… korok leaves?

“Link!” Zelda waved her arms, screaming his name until he finally looked at her. His eyes widened as he noticed her and barreled right at her.

Zelda jumped out of the way as he lunged into the shelter, right before another thunder strike slammed against the ground mere seconds where he was.

The korok leaves had splattered all over the muddy ground, with Link landing face first. Luckily enough, his face had landed conveniently on the blanket. But the rest of his body…

Zelda stared down at her outfit, watching the mud that he had splattered in his grand lunge, drip down onto the ground.

He made a noise when he lifted his head, a sound of exasperation that she’s never heard before.

Her attempted laugh simply sounded like her teeth were clattering against one another.

As he got his bearings, he immediately looked up at her, hefting himself on his feet quickly as he stared at her with wide eyes.

“Sorry!” He said. He seemed overwhelmed, as if his mind and body hadn’t really caught up to speed with one another yet.

“So you were off.. c-collecting… leaves?” Zelda averted her gaze down to the mess scattered on the ground.

He glanced down at the pile, then back at her, then back down, as he waved his hands in an attempt to explain, but it seemed as if his words were stuck in his throat. Panic rose in his eyes as he tried his hardest to get the dirt off of her clothes.

Zelda waved him off, laughing a little at his actions. “It’s fine! I can just wash it out, it’s not a big deal.” She smiled warmly at him as he nodded, staring at her feet. Was he actually embarrassed for once? She felt a little smug that the tables had turned. “Well…” Zelda sighed out, placing a finger on her chin, tapping, as if she was in deep thought. When she glanced at him, his tenseness caused her to burst out into a fit of laughter.

“I-I’m sorry, I was about to tease you, but now I feel too bad!” Zelda continued to giggle as she bent down to pick up the leaves. “Anyway, what were these for?”

Link bent down too, collecting them as well. “Something to cover our heads with…” He let out a sigh. She felt a little bad at how disappointed he seemed.

“To cover our heads with?”

He nodded, holding out his arms. Zelda placed her own stack of collected korok leaves onto his. He set it down on the blanket, straightening them out. “I was going to make a korok cover so we could get out of this rain, and then…” He gestured toward the sky with a wave of his hand.

“How do you make a cover out of korok leaves?” Zelda bent down next to him, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she looked down at the pile with curiosity.

“Well, like this—“ Link began twisting and bending the leaves, working fast and diligently. He stuck out his tongue a little to the side in concentration—a quirk she hadn’t noticed before, and watched as his fingers nimbly worked around.

After what felt like only a second, the korok leaves had twisted together to form some sort of makeshift cover—big enough for the both of them to stand under.

Link held his hands out toward it, as if to say tada! He looked at her expectantly, obviously proud of his creation.

“Where did you even learn this?” Zelda exclaimed, touching the various stems bound together. He was able to combine them to create a sturdy handle, to hold up the weight of the leaves.

“With my mom, when we were lost in the forest.” His eyes warmed as he answered, as if he was peeking into a distant memory.

“With your mom?” Zelda echoed.

He nodded, his eyes a little sad. Zelda didn’t push forward on the topic; she didn’t want to accidentally bring up any painful memories.

“Well,” Zelda said, patting away the dried mud from her palms as she stood up. She shivered as a light breeze wafted into the shelter. “Too bad we can’t make use of your cover, not with the thunderstorm at least.”

“I think it’ll end soon,” Link stood next to her, peeking out just a little. He unhooked the various leather belts attached on him and shimmied out of his Champion’s tunic, handing it to her. “It’s dirty, but it’ll keep you a little warmer.”

She stared at the tunic, then at his collarbone, and how it dipped—

“No, no. It’s fine, I’m okay.” Zelda looked away quickly, staring straight ahead. But he continued to stand there with his arm outstretched. His silent way of saying that he was going to hold it out until she accepted it. Zelda sighed and gratefully took it, muttering a quiet thank you.

It smelled like him, a smell she could only compare to the word comfort, with a mix of grass and dirt; like the forest. All the things she liked bundled up into one tunic, and her heart swelled.

#botw #zelink #zelda #link #breath of the wild #my fanfics #didn't post yesterday cause i was tired but here u go!!#updates will be every tuesday~#thanks for all the likes and reblogs #i appreciate it!#archived memories

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

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Sokovian Bastard Pt.2 (Pietro Maximoff)

Requested: No

Warnings: swearing, cocky Pietro and jealous reader, swearing and uhm..yeah, swearing.

Summary: Being an avenger has never been easy, and after a certain Sokovian joins the team, it really just does not help your concentration. At all. Especially because the two of you just wouldn’t get along.

a/n: SORRY I had to make 2 Parts, Tumblr was bitching around somehow not working, I hope its not a bother, sorry sorry sorry...

My Masterlist

Part I

He just laughed and gave a side eye. “And you could’ve also finished that soldier on your own, I bet?” I huffed again. “I had it under control.” That made him laugh even louder. “Just shut up.” And I did, trying to ignore how good it actually felt to have his arm wrapped around me.

“Still in bed, princess?” I looked up from my book as the familiar accent ripped me out my imagination. “What does that mean, speedster. I had a five centimeter deep, burned-in bit to cure, I don’t know how fast you expect me to get up and fight again.” He said nothing, just leaned against the doorframe of the medical complex. “Besides, it’s been a day.” I continued, eyes wandering over his face. “And I heard that they had wonderful doctors here…you’re just being lazy.” I closed my book and pushed myself up. “That too, but that is not your business to mingle in. Sod off Mr. Speedy Gonzales.” He snorted and shook his head. “I came because Stark was asking if you would still attend to the party tonight?” I shrugged. “Probably yes. Why wouldn’t he just send FRIDAY?” he now shrugged, clicking with his tongue impatiently. “How would I know. See you tonight then.” And with that he was gone. I frowned confusedly. “Whatever that has been again…” I mumbled under my breath, pushing the covers back. Pietro was right…I was just being lazy.

Miss Cho was alright with me leaving, she knew that I was healed again. On my question if she would come too tonight, she shrugged reluctantly, before slyly asking if not Thor would attend too. That made me giggle as I promised her that I would ask for her before I left. After I took a shower, I inspected my hip. The injury was almost completely gone already, the special cell-manipulating technique they had seemed to work fantastically. I was positive that I could attend the party tonight. But first, I had to ask Tony about Thor. “FRIDAY, where can I find Tony?” I asked loudly, pulling a pair of jeans and a white sweater over my shivering body before heading out again. “In the kitchen track, accompanied by Miss Romanoff, Mr. Barton and the Maximoff twins.” Was the immediate answer and I nodded. “Thank you FRIDAY.” “Nothing to thank for Miss.”

“Look who came back from the dead!” Clint cheered as I entered the wide kitchen. Wanda hugged me immediately, a hug I returned with pleasure. “Yeah, death might be a bit exaggerated but…I’m back.” I grinned over Wanda’s shoulder and Nat laughed. “Hungry?” I nodded quickly. “A little bit…ah Tony.” I called out, and he lifted his head.

“Yes darling? I too am obviously ecstatic that you’re back, I was just a little occupied with Pepper…how can I help.” I grinned at him before taking a seat at the bar. “I just wanted to ask if a certain god of thunder would attend too tonight?” Tony (as well as the others) shot me a surprised glance. “Asking for a friend, obviously.” I added with a chuckle, taking a sip of a smoothie Nat had handed me.

“You do know that he has a girlfriend right?” I rose my eyebrow. “Lovely Pietro, I do. However, that doesn’t change the fact that he is nice to look at, right? And also, as I already mentioned, I am not asking for myself. Maybe you should get your “wandering mind” under control.” I gave him a taste of his own medicine now and he clearly remembered. “Sure I do. I can also get you one or two magnifying glasses so you and your “friend” can intensify your ogling.” He snapped, getting up from the chair he’d sat on. My eyebrow wandered up even higher. “Look at you Maximoff, are you jealous you don’t get my unshared attention?” I slid off my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, just like he tended to do it. With a few steps he had planted himself in front of me, staring down with an irritated glare. “Are we a bit needy today, speedster?” I taunted softly, my lips curling up amused. His eyes burned like two blue suns, irritated but then again, I meant to catch a hint of amusement in between the whirl of upset. “Look who’s cocky now…” he pushed out before speeding out of the door in a second. “Coward!” I mocked laughing, turning back to Nat, Clint, Tony and Wanda.

“Sorry…now, is Thor coming?” Tony just nodded. “I uhm, think so.” He said slowly, clearing his voice. “The two of you should really just…make out or something. The tension…” he exclaimed dramatically, setting my cheeks on fire. “Not gonna happen Tony.” I mumbled embarrassed, leaving the kitchen now as well, Nat’s drink in my hand.

Just hours later, the healthy smoothie had been replaced with a pink cocktail, again, by Natasha. She had her arm linked with mine, a similar drink in her hand as well and we walked towards the couch. “Look at the ladies tonight!” Someone suddenly roared and we snapped around, finding Thor himself standing behind us with opened arms. “Well, look at you Odinson. In a suit and all!” I laughed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Natasha simply nodded politely, a warm smile on her face. “Yeah, that cape is sometimes a’lil in the way.” He mumbled, brushing over the jacket. In this moment, Wanda joined us. “How’s Jane doing?” I asked, giving Wanda a smile and immediately after whistled quietly. She looked amazing. “Lass’s doing well. Travelin’ around in those planes and what not. But she’s doing great, I suppose!” Thor smiled happily, giving my back a friends tap. Though it was so powerful, that I almost tripped over. “Sorry lass.” He mumbled immediately, grabbing my arm to stabilize me again.

In the corner of my eyes I saw Pietro looking over to us, giving me a harsh glare before downing his drink. I rose my eyebrows at him before I waving it off. “That’s alright Thor, don’t worry.” He let go of my arm. “I’ll go over to Banner…see ya in a bit!” he excused himself with a smile. “I’ll join! If you don’t mind?” Nat piped in, squeezing my arm softly before making her way with Thor over to the balcony. I relinked my arm with Wanda’s turning her around towards the bar.

“You don’t even have a drink…what can I get you?” She grinned surprised. “Whatever there is…but make it strong. I don’t think I can survive your and my brothers bickering else any longer.” I giggled softly, preparing her glass. “Sorry we don’t get along. Him and I…that’s just not working out.” I explained, searching for a bottle of vodka. “Or you should just make out already.” Wanda repeated Tony’s words and I snorted. “I bet he’d rather jump out of the window than that.” “And you? You wouldn’t?” I stopped preparing her drink for a second. Would I really mind? How fucked up that actually was…I wouldn’t. “Of course I would.” I stuttered a bit too late, feeling my face grow warm. Wanda just hummed. “You know…he came and checked up on you when you were in medical treatment.” She then said and I snapped up. “What?” my eyes darted over to him, confused about what I was supposed to say now. “Yeah he was quite worried.” My eyes trailed over his face and upper body as I watched him chat with Maria. She tilted her head back as she laughed at something he said and a smug smirk formed on his face. “Well however, I’m clearly not his type though.” I said with wink, handed her the drink and walked over to the couch where Tony, Steve, Rhodey and Clint sat around, along with a few other people.

“…and then suddenly this big dude jumped out of nowhere…a mutant probably.” Rhodey just said, taking a sip from his beer. “What is he talking about?” I whispered into Clint’s ear as I sat down. “About our mission, two days ago. Looks like you weren’t the only one who crossed path with a mutant.“ he whispered back before listening to Rhodey again. He had a funny way of telling stories and it was great listening to something you experienced told by someone else.

“And let’s not forget our two lovebirds teaming up!” Steve suddenly mentioned and I snapped up. “Excuse me Captain, I was in a quite tricky situation there and had literally no other choice than let him help me.” I defended myself and Tony grinned. “Well, Pietro over there had an eye on you the whole time, so I knew I wouldn’t have to help.” My eyebrows shot up at that. “He had?” Tony nodded smugly. “Maybe. But you should go and ask him yourself.” Steve nodded quickly. “You really should, because it also looks like agent Hill is stealing your man.” I emptied my drink with a huff and got up. “Hill’s not doing anything.” I mumbled, and those idiots cheered immediately. “So he is your man though?” Tony yelled and I flinched, scoffing at him as I walked towards Pietro and Hill. Pietro’s eyes immediately fell on me as I approached and just seconds after he leaned just a bit closer to Hill than it would’ve been necessary.

I slowed down and bit my lip…why should I even bother them.

It was clear that he had an interest in her, and also he wanted to annoy me, but if it worked that well…probably I should approach him. His satisfied grin however made me rethink and I continued to walk towards him.

“Maximoff.”

“Princess.”

“I heard you had had an eye on me back in the field…wanted to thank for that.” His eyebrows shot up slightly. “Also, cute of you that you checked up on me while I was in treatment.” I added, seeing him grow slightly nervous. “And the one who told you that was…?” “Wanda, Steve, Tony…” I started, feeling my lips twitch slightly. He was embarrassed and that was wonderful. “Well, you’re welcome I guess.” He said, clearing his throat. “Maria and I were about to grab some drinks and then excuse ourselves. She wanted to show me something in the lab…you would be so kind and tell the others, right princess?” he suddenly asked sweetly, a coy look in his eyes. Well, well, well…how the tables have turned.

“Why don’t you tell them yourself?” I replied, honeyed voice layered with venom. Show him something in the lab my ass. His eyes light up as he probably caught on to my sudden and uncomfortable jealousy and his lips turned up. “How mean.” I shrugged before turning around, not looking at Maria once and walking towards the balcony. I wanted to find Banner and Thor and Nat, maybe down some shots with her. “Just a second Maria…” I heard the Sokovian mumble before he suddenly appeared next to me. “Now…who was green-eyed now, princess?” I snorted, keeping my steady walk towards the balcony. “If this is what this was about, then that was very unfair towards Maria. Go and apologize, then go and fuck yourself.” He just chuckled. “Cute. So you were jealous.” The cold air hit me as I stepped outside, no sign of Thor, Banner or Nat to be seen. Shit.

“I don’t know if you can remember but haven’t I said something about your ego before…” I snapped, turning around to him. “You always get snappy when I’m right, have you noticed? And also, I heard them calling me your man….is that how you refer to me now?” I could feel my blood shooting to my face. “I wasn’t calling you that. They did.” He hummed amused, suddenly leaning forwards to trap me between his arms and the glass balustrade. “And you said…?” I gulped. I said nothing because…why haven’t I?

“I said nothing.” I just replied, feeling intimidated by his sudden closeness. “What is this Pietro? I though we don’t like each other?” he tilted his head. “I don’t like you.” ouch, a bit rough now, huh. “You’re annoying, loud, snappy, sassy, cocky and a know it all. You are an insufferable tease and hold grudges forever because if you wouldn’t, you would’ve forgiven me for pushing you off that balcony because I apologized…” I wanted to reply something but he pressed his finger against my lip, “then again you wish me luck, blush easily when others comment about us, are annoyingly funny and witty and apparently a good friend to everyone but to me and, to make matters worse, despite your dislike you seem to have against me, you get jealous so ridiculously easy. I don’t even know what I should think about you.” he rambled and I could only stare.

Everything he said was how I felt about him, his idiotic jokes, his smile, his teasing, his witty and sassy comebacks, his know it all attitude I hated so much, his mean comments and self-esteem shattering remarks, his nicknames he had for me and how beautiful he looked right in that moment as he had me trapped now not only mentally but physically. And I was whipped as well as angry, because…because I held a grudge? Because we took such a long time to talk? Because I still couldn’t help but wish I wouldn’t have to hide that I’d found him attractive and intriguing and all of that? I didn’t even know. But what I did know was, that him making me jealous on purpose was cocky. So cocky that it seemed to be the only thing my overwhelmed brain could muster to mumble.

“Well then don’t flirt with Hill, you sokovian bastard.” He stopped for a second, eyes flickering over my face. “Well then don’t look.” I frowned.

“Cool speedster, then stop smirking the way you do, looking the way you do, cut your hair and dye it yellow and purple and look ugly, stop wearing those skin-tight shirts and tops around the building, stop working out and stop getting buff, stop making doe eyes whenever you want something, stop chewing on your lips when you think, stop annoying me twenty-four seven, stop calling me princess, go get a face lift and grow old and fat and stop making me look!” I bubbled out, outraged about his arrogant comment. Ignorant bastard. “Look at you princess.” He coed suddenly, his voice dripping of self-satisfaction. “You pay attention to details hm?” I gulped angrily, not saying anything. “’Suppose you spent enough time staring then.”

He pushed himself off the balustrade, crossing his hands behind his back. “Now, I am pretty sure I left Hill waiting for too long already and the others are missing you…see you tomorrow I suppose?” and with that he turned and walked away.

That was the last straw. I basically exploded, I was so angry. “Oh you are not doing that.” I hissed, walking up on him angrily. “You are not walking off like that, after everything you just heard!” he stopped, turning around to me. Again, this cocky twinkle in his eyes.

“Then what would you have me do instead, princess?” he asked soft, mockingly, knowing. I was aware that practically every avenger including Maria who had her focus on him anyways, was watching right now. But I count quite get myself to care. “I don’t know Maximoff, but walking off like a goddamn…chaperone is not what I let you get away with, believe me!” I spat out, feeling how hurt now bubbled up in between the anger. “That was what I meant…so ridiculously easy jealous.” He whispered amused before suddenly dipping down and pressing a feathery kiss to my lips. I froze, my brain simply gave up and wasn't even trying to grasp what just happened.

“I will be right back princess, she is just transmitting my data onto FRIDAY’s database so I too, can access the liquor cabinet with the beloved booze.” He grinned softly, dipping down for another kiss and I made wide eyes. “You are kidding me right?” he shook his head slowly. “Not at all. But taking that you kissed me back and all…you are now free to call me your man, if that is what you’re into, alright?” he winked, cocky as ever but with a soft blush on his cheek.

“You are the worst. Literally, the worst Pietro. And I will never stop calling you names, just because you did that.” He laughed softly before carefully wrapping his arm around my waist. “I can live with that…now let me just go and get some booze yeah? We luckily live here, so we don’t have to take a taxi back to my place…” I blinked surprised. “So confident already.” He just laughed.

“As if you would say no...princess.”

#marvel #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #quicksilver #imagines #reader insert #marvel imagine #aaron tyler johnson #thanks for reading #bucky barnes imagine #tony stark x reader #steve rodgers x reader #marvel bunch

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grouptalekindnesssoulstories · 4 years

Text

Two Imps in a Trench Coat

So, I got bored and scrolled through @infinimay ‘s prompt list thingys. I got an idea from Illusions AU, so here we are! I have decided to make them two guys in a trench coat, and everyone else think they hate each other because they are never seen together.

And this time tumblr can’t be a little bitch and delete my progress cause I’m on desktop! Take that you dumb website

Also, I ended up using @enby-phoenix ‘s idea of the author interacting with the characters (Sorry, not sorry? :p I liked the idea)

Words: 1,665

Warnings: Cursing (once again, I can not function without curses), Remus being himself, a panic attack (written by someone with limited experience), threats with no intention of following through, complete self-insert.

“Are you sure about this Re?” Virgil sat on the desk as Remus strained to see from the chair. They were about to send in a response to an ad for roommates.

“Nope! It’s like an ace succubus!” The other imp said cheerfully.

“How does that even translate to this?” Virgil offered a hand to lift Remus up. He ignored it, choosing to climb the back of the chair and leaping onto the desk.

“We do whatcha gotta do! Like-”

“Nope, just send the e-mail you idiot. Both of them, and make sure it’s scheduled at different times, so they don’t link them” Virgil turned to instruct his twin. They had to be careful with their secret.

~~~

“I’m here bitches!” Remus threw open the door on his moving day. The other four roommates were all gathered in the living room. He briefly wondered if his glamour was enough (Virgil had fussed over it for an hour).

“Ah, I assume you’re Remus Jones” One responded, pushing up his glasses.

“Language!” Another scolded after recovering for his shock. The person next to them laid an arm around them.

“Let’s get started” Remus rubbed his hands, moving towards the group “You know I’m Remus, who are you?”

“I’m Logan, I posted the ad. He/him if you could” The first one began.

“I’m Janus, they/them. You can call me Dee though” The next responded, the one who had calmed Mx. Language-dude. “This is Patton, my boyfriend”

“That’s me Kiddo! Oh, I use he/him” Patton bounced after being introduced.

“That leaves this fucker to be Roman” Remus turned to the last of the group. To his surprise, they resembled his illusion pretty closely.

“Yes” He responded curtly. Remus shrugged, dragging his bags in. He had very little, as Virgil had not trusted him to move most of their stuff. He already missed the other imp. He couldn’t do anything to disrupt the glamour, and it was booooriiiing.

~~~

Virgil moved in a few days later. Most of the others were at work. Remus was there, hiding in the closet to keep up the appearance of being employed.

“I assume you are Virgil?” A crisp voice asked. Remus had updated his twin on everything, so Vee knew it was Logan. However, he didn’t want to give away his knowledge.

“Yea, what of it?”

“I’m Logan. I’m assuming you received my last e-mail?” The human swirled the liquid in his cup as he spoke.

“I did. So, where do I sleep?” Virgil shrugged, shoulders aching from all the bags he was carrying.

“Over here. Unfortunately, there is a door between the two rooms over here, so you are in a sense sharing with our....loud roommate addition. I must return to my work” Logan walked away quickly, disappearing down the opposite hallway.

“Re, where are you son of a-” Virgil muttered the moment he entered the room.

“Here!” Remus bounced out of the closet, tackling his brother.

“Shhh, gotta be careful”

“Nah, he can’t hear anything. Perfect for sneaking into his room and getting some emotional action” Re bounced, beaming wider than natural even for an imp.

“Lead the way then. I’m tired from keeping this up. I’ll set up my ‘room’ later. Not like I’ll be using it much anyways if everything goes well”

~~~

“Where is this new roommate?” A quiet voice asked a few hours later. Both imps jolted out of their doze, scrambling to figure out a way to sneak out.

“Who’s turn is it to appear?” Vee hissed, glancing around.

“On, quickly! I bottom” Remus pulled on his brother’s arm. Virgil nodded, climbing onto his brother’s shoulders before adjusting the illusion. After a second of tweaking it and getting his balance, Remus walked them out.

“You called?” Virgil drawled, signalling Remus to lean against the wall. The excitement that hit both of them was addictive in its strength.

“Hiya! I’m Pat!” The tallest of the trio standing there said. He bounced on his toes, practically vibrating in joy.

“Darling, easy” The other human closest to him soothed. After taking their boyfriend’s hand, said boyfriend calmed a bit. “I’m Dee. they/them”

“And I’m Roman” The last one added. Virgil immediately saw the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion rolling off him. It was almost as strong as Pat’s joy. However, it had less of an energy rush. It was so deep, it almost sapped energy.

“Well, I’m sure you know by now I’m Virgil. Any more questions? I want to unpack” Virgil almost snapped. All three stepped back and Remus slid them through the gap quickly. The moment he shut the door to the spare Virgil’s room, he swung his brother off his shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay spider. It’s not you. Do you need your blanket? Or Charlotte?” Remus rumbled, trying to stop the oncoming panic attack. Virgil shook his head, patting Re’s shoulder. Remus nodded and sat next to his brother. The moment he had settled, Virgil hugged him. The pair curled up, Remus humming to soothe the other imp. Before long, both were sleeping peacefully.

~~~

“Do you hate Remus?” Roman sat down heavily on the couch next to the pair. Virgil was currently the one in the illusion, so it was him who responded.

“Never met the guy. If anything, he hates me” Virgil tried to sound as bored as possible. It had been a few months and the twins had gained more energy, fully emerging from their halfling state. They couldn’t risk going anywhere with each other though, and the rest of the apartment had noticed they never were seen with each other.

“Well, what about me? You’ve avoided me ever since you moved in” Roman leaned closer, and Virgil was tempted to lean away, but that would weaken the illusion. It was true he had been carefully keeping away, and had grown closer to the rest of the group...but he didn’t hate Roman. It was the opposite, he couldn’t stand being near him with all of his exhaustion, sorrow, and depression.

“Mmm, nah. You’re just a lot” Vee responded after a nudge from his brother.

“Of emotion?” Roman responded after a moment, a flicker appearing across his face. His plain features seemed to briefly warp. After a moment, he reached out a hand, laying it over Virgil’s paler skin. It passed through Virgil’s illusion entirely after a moment, shattering it.

“Shit” Virgil met Roman’s eyes. Eyes that were glowing softly, and were slowly dissolving a similar illusion. Remus freed himself from Vee and bounced over, tapping the round face that appeared.

“VeeVee, it’s real! It’s purely fat and would make great-”

“Re, stop that thought right now. We both know what it is and it’s gross af” Roman started giggling.

“What’s so funny Princey?” Virgil asked, angling himself towards his brother, and the exit he could use.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just glad I’m not alone, and that I was right. Plus you’re so small!” He waved a hand at the pair. After a nod, they tackled him. After some scrambling, they were perched on Roman’s chest. He was pinned to the couch on his back.

“What are you. It’s obvious this is no illusion. So what” “are you. And how did you figure out what we are” Virgil and Remus began, their own eyes glowing from using their magic.

“I’m a selkie. Someone took most of my skin. And I saw you two the first night. I was bringing food for you both at Pat’s request and saw you curled up with tatters of glamour. I didn’t want to do anything with anyone around though” Roman explained, a nervous smile across his features. The twins exchanged looks and a nod. They scrambled off, freeing Roman by brushing dark red hands over the bonds.

“We are Imps” “and your emotions were impossible to feed” “Off. So we avoided you” The pair informed him.

“Plus Vee has a crush on you!” Remus added unhelpfully.

“Remus, I will shove my feet in your face the next time I’m on top” Virgil punched his brother.

“Oooo kinky”

“You little fuc-”

“Uh...guys? You know Patton and Dee will be coming back from their date soon, right?” Roman broke in, glancing between them. “I also can’t tell you apart now, except by your voices”

“Oh, shoot. he’s right” Virgil glanced at the clock as Roman somehow made the physical version of the 😢 emoji.

“VeeVee has the curly horns, I’m taller at 3′4.5!” Remus piped up at the worst time as the lock jingled.

“SHit on a fucking stick, Remus get your ass over here. We need to get our glamour back on” Virgil yanked his brother over, focused entirely on adjusting the glamour to look natural while still hiding both imps.

“Um, you may not need be concerned?” Roman said awkwardly as Patton cursed outside the door from Remus’s panicked interference on the lock.

“Uh, explain quickly before I burn you with...just quickly!” Virgil almost yelled, struggling with repairing the damage.

“Pat, Dee, May I tell them?” Roman raised his voice. The door swung open as Remus yanked a blanket over him and his brother. Dee raised an eyebrow, walking in and closing the door behind them.

“Tell them what exsssactly?” They almost hissed, eyes quickly taking in the selkie.

“Of course kiddo!” Pat spoke up, smiling brightly.

“I don’t mind, I sssssupposssse” Dee added as all eyes turned to them.

“Well, You know I’m a selkie. Dee over there is a naga! And Pat is a werecat. Which is why he says he’s allergic, but there’s cat hair all over!” Roman said proudly. The imps felt the pride leak out of him. The gloomy emotional cover was breaking apart, showing the emotions he had hidden underneath after the initial meeting.

“We’re imps! Here to suck your soul out through your emotions!” Remus popped his horned head out from the blanket.

“Remus, shut up. You’re gonna get us kicked out” Virgil shoved his brother.

“Are we sharing now? Is it touchy-feely time?” A voice echoed from the ceiling.

“Logan!” All five exclaimed, the imps jumping into the air.

“Yes, it is I. Your favorite vampire roommate” A voice drawled from the ceiling. The various bruises suddenly made so much more sense as the thin man dropped from the ceiling. His whole body looked like he was, well, dead.

“....Re, I’m going to take a nap” Virgil vanished under the blanket again as the various glamours were dropped. The only one without a glamour was Patton, and his unruly curls were a disguise themselves.

“A wise choice. We should all go to bed, including our other roommate” Pat smiled, earning a smile from Logan.

“Don’t fucking tell me there’s another one of you” Virgil’s voice was muffled.

“Oh, I keep forgetting she’s here” Roman whined, glaring at the idiot.

“She? I haven’t heard anything about a she” Re cocked his head. Logan sighed before turning his gaze towards their other roommate.

“Yes, well. She doesn’t typically appear. You can’t see her, unless she chooses to appear” Logan adjusted his glasses.

“Rude. I do appear” A distinctly feminine voice echoed from a spot on the arm of the couch. A blink, and there was a young woman sitting there. There were bags under her own eyes, and she seemed to be upset about something.

“Who are you?” VeeVee poked his head out from the blanket long enough to confirm she appeared human.

“I’m Delphine Ignia. I technically own this place. I can’t take credit for this whole thing though. Fin gets credit for the idea” she turned towards the imps, crossing her legs as she studied them with...normal blue eyes.

“Are you a ghost? Cause I didn’t see your name on the lease” Remus cocked his head, readying a spear to throw as the woman’s leg suddenly swayed as she appeared to think.

“...no you wouldn’t. You see, I’m the one bringing this whole thing to life. I’m the author! Though, I usually think of myself as the writer. I’m not published so I feel like ‘author’ doesn’t fit” She had once again shifted as she spoke, her leg somehow bouncing on the ground as she spoke.

“And you of all people need sleep. You can make a second chapter in the morning. You have the zoom meeting tomorrow” Logan scolded the young woman. She groaned, nodding.

“Yea, yea. I’ll lose the idea though! And I haven’t found the stopping point”

“This is it. If the readers want, you’ll figure out a way. You did with How Far Can You Trust A Serpent” Dee pointed out.

“Fiiineeee. I am having a harder time typing cause I’m tired. Night guys. Sleep well! You have no choice but to sleep!” The woman started fading as her leg’s bouncing slowed. Before the roommates knew it, they were in their beds and collectively drifting off as the...writer, as she called herself, did. They all had a lot to ponder, and Delphine needed to fucking sleep. So they did.

#Delphine Ignia's Stories #sanders sides #sympathetic sides #pre-romantic prinxiety

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