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somnambulants · 3 years

Note

omg i think it’s considered a little bit of a pride mont hate crime that you don’t have MORE nat fics 🥺 so hehehe how about i request some pouty jealous!nat?

Notes: omg thank u! happy pride 💛 this went super off topic BUT i hope you still like it! jealous!nat is my new favorite thing.

Summary: Natasha may have a little bit of jealous streak. You discover you don’t mind. Word count: 3.8K

You are not a jealous person.

That’s not to say that you aren’t prone to bouts of insecurity, you definitely are, and especially at the beginning of your relationship with Natasha. For the first few months after you’d begun dating, you’d been on edge the entire time; in a constant state of wondering, agonising, for the day she’d finally realise you weren’t good enough for her and up and leave.

Through all of that, you’d never given a lot of thought to whether your girlfriend is the jealous type. Mostly because Natasha is the most beautiful person you’d ever seen but also because it’s not like she would ever have a reason to be jealous; the minute you’d met, you had never so much as wanted to look at another person.

The thought never crossed your mind. It was laughable to you.

As unbelievable of an idea as it is, you’ve been together for just a few months when it slowly begins to dawn on you that you may not be the jealous type, but Natasha most definitely is.

In all – although admittedly, there weren’t a lot – of her relationships, Natasha has never cared enough to worry about being jealous over a significant other.

This is why the visceral reaction she has to watching people flirt with you comes as such a surprise to her.

The first time it happens, you’d only just begun dating and were at one of the many events the avengers were required to attend. Still wanting to stay as low-key as possible, you’d both privately agreed to not spend the night attached to one another.

Something Natasha is now beginning to regret. Immensely.

Currently, you’re across the room, talking to a woman Natasha vaguely recognises as a reporter and all she can focus on is the way the woman is looking at you.

It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up because Natasha knows that look; has given you that look many times over the course of your relationship – a hungry, I want you right now, kind of look.

“Nat!”

Steve suddenly materialises beside her and the fact that she didn’t see him coming is evidence of how distracted she is. It makes her scowl even harder. Taking in her expression, he all of a sudden looks like he’s trying not to laugh as he follows her gaze to where you were standing. “You feeling okay? You’re looking a little…green.”

She resists the urge to kick him in the stomach. “Bite me, Rogers.”

He snickers and starts to say something else, but whatever it is, it’s lost on her as the sound of your voice across the room acts as a honing beacon and regains her attention immediately.

She watches, grip tightening around her drink, as you throw your head back, laughing at some joke the woman must’ve made. Seeing this as a green light, the woman leans in, brushing a lone piece of hair over your shoulder.

It doesn’t matter that Natasha can see how your spine immediately straightens up, or how you step back to widen the gap between you and your admirer.It doesn’t matter that you very clearly don’t return the attention being given to you.

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters because all Natasha can see and feel is red. If she had the ability to burn people with her eyes, that woman would have been incinerated on the spot. There wouldn’t even be tiny little dust particles left behind.

In the midst of her rage, she doesn’t even register the glass in her hand shattering until she’s covered in glass and red wine and there’s blood running down her wrist.

The sound of the glass breaking makes a good portion of the room’s occupants turn around to stare, you included. Instantly, you’re at her side, cradling her hand between your own.

“What happened?”

In its current state, Natasha’s brain seems to be lacking its usual quick thinking, and she just stares at you dumbly for a second until she spots the reporter you’d been talking to skulking in the background, watching with a petulant look on her face, evidently irritated by the interruption and the white-hot rage comes flooding back even more ferocious than before.

God, that insipid woman is lucky this event was specified no weapons allowed because if Natasha had a gun right now, she --

“--Natasha?”

You’re looking at her with worry in your eyes and as much as she’d love to go ‘accidentally’ push that woman off the edge of this very tall building’s balcony to a very certain death, she feels her insides soften into mush as they often do when you’re around.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Accident.”

It’s a flimsy excuse and one that wouldn’t fly on a normal day, especially not with you. She watches you purse your lips, giving her a doubtful look but you seem to make the decision to let it go as you lead her out of the room with the intent to find something to clean her up with.

You may not be a trained spy or even the most perceptive person on your best day, but you can still sense it when something is up – especially with Natasha. After the party, you’d had an inkling that maybe your girlfriend wasn’t telling you the whole truth and that something else was actually going on but after seeing the look in her eye, you hadn’t pushed her.

In spite of her unwillingness to share, a few weeks later your inkling is confirmed.

“I’ll order this time,” you yell over the loud music at the bar you were currently at. It was not your scene at all – or Natasha’s but Carol had recommended it on her last trip back to this earth and after a long, long week, you’d both agreed you deserved a night out, away from avengers’ duties and this is where you’d ended up.

Natasha gives you a nod and you stand, only having to wait at the bar for a few seconds before the bartender makes a b-line for you, ignoring the grumbles from the patrons that had been clearly waiting a lot longer than you.

“What can I get you?”

You recite Natasha’s drink, then your own and the bartender makes them with record speed. When you try to hand her the bill to pay, she waves her hand dismissively and gives you a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t –“

The bartender, who you now realise is quite pretty, runs a finger along the back of your hand and gives you a wink that is definitely more flirty than friendly. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”

You sigh in defeat, giving her a smile in thanks and turn back around, making your way back to your table in the corner of the room where your girlfriend is still sitting but now with a face like thunder.

To anyone else, Natasha would probably look neutral but to you – well, you can see the irritated look in her eye and the slight crease between her brows and you know she’s pissed.

In the future, you’d look back and want to slap yourself for not seeing it straight away but in the present it just makes you a little worried.

“Everything okay?” you ask, setting the drinks down on the table. You think about all the possibilities of what could’ve happened in the short time you’d been gone and try not to panic. “Did something –"

“No,” Natasha says and then seems to realise the sharpness in her voice because her face softens in apology. She leans over to give you a quick kiss and it makes you relax slightly. “Everything’s fine.”

Comprehension starts to trickle in when she scoots over so she can wrap an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, and when you follow her line of sight, you realise she’s glaring over your head at the bartender, who pales immediately and doesn’t so much as look in your direction again.

Oh, you feel your eyes widen as it finally hits you: oH.

You look down into your drink and try to hide your disbelieving smile as you finally understand: she’s jealous.

If it were anyone else, you think you probably wouldn’t feel like this – would likely be outright irritated and a little offended at the behaviour -- but with Natasha you can’t help but find it kind of … cute.

A little giddily, you lean over to press a kiss to her jaw and feel her relax a little against you. “Wanna go after this one?”

Natasha’s face doesn’t change but you see a little shift in her eyes as she nods and pulls you in for another kiss, this one a little more heated – for your benefit or the bartenders, you don’t know, and don’t particularly mind either way as you let yourself get lost in it.

After that night, it becomes so apparent to you and you don’t know how you’d missed it all this time. It happens all the time. All. The. Time.

On the street, if someone so much as glances your way, she’s already staring back at them with an expression that would be terrifying even to you if she directed it your way.

At work one day one of the new recruits, a kid, really, comes up to you and asks you, voice trembling if you’d let him take you out someday and the next day Natasha knocks him on his ass so hard and so many times that you’re kind of surprised – and a little impressed—that the poor kid doesn’t quit right on the spot.

Even in your apartment building, one of your maybe-slightly too friendly neighbours gets similar treatment in the elevator one night when you and Natasha are returning to the building at the same time as her.

Just as you enter the elevator, you hear the voice of your neighbour calling out.

“Hold the door!”

Panting, your neighbour enters the small space. “Thank you so much, I have had the worst, oh –” her eyes land on Natasha beside you and she looks at her with something you can’t quite place in her eyes. “Who’s your …friend?”

“Oh!” you exclaim and you know you must sound surprised. Was it not obvious from how Natasha was always here that you were dating? “This is Natasha. My girlfriend. Nat, this is Charlotte, my neighbour.”

You can see Natasha in the reflection of the elevator walls, so you see the smug self-satisfied look she gives your neighbour as she wraps an arm around you possessively.

So, yes while you notice it all now, you still don’t say anything because a small – and by small, you mean large, massive actually – part of you kind of likes it; likes the fact that the Natasha Romanoff, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life is somehow yours and even more unbelievably, somehow she thinks you’re worth getting worked up like that over.

At this point, you’ve been dating for over a year and somehow it must’ve slipped the memo to let all of the avengers know because somehow every time you’re at the office, it seems like a new person is finding out about your relationship.

It’s really hard to keep up with everyone and their individual missions, which is how you find yourself in your current predicament.

“--ah, well-well,” a familiar voice calls out and you look up from the report you’d been studying. “If it isn’t the most attractive and coincidentally my favourite honorary avenger.”

In the doorway of your office, Sam is grinning at you in that playful, flirty but also joking kind of way that’s distinctly Sam Wilson. You grin back and stand to let him pull you into a hug.

“Did you just get back?” you ask, vaguely remembering him telling you he was going on a mission at least six months ago. You think it was in Istanbul, but you can’t quite remember the specifics.

Sam pulls back and goes to open his mouth but doesn’t get the chance to speak as Natasha appears in the doorway.

“Samuel,” she drawls his name, eyeing his arm around you. She visibly brightens up when she looks at you, though. “Y/N”

You can’t see yourself, but you know your face must light up as your eyes land on her by the sudden realisation that crosses Sam’s face. The casual kiss she drops on your cheek comes as confirmation.

His mouth drops open as he looks between you both. “Oh damn, you two?” he asks, smiling genuinely. “Damn!”

To the naked eye, Natasha doesn’t seem amused by his revelation, but you know her well enough by now to be able to spot the glimmer of humour in her eyes.

Sam, however, doesn’t seem to be adept at reading her as you are and so when she advances a little closer, his eyes widen and he immediately backs away.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know!” he exclaims, hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

The expression on Natasha’s face turns sinister in nature. You watch and try not to laugh at her theatrics, attempting to adopt a sympathetic expression when he desperately looks to you for help.

“Well,” Natasha says, faux-friendly. As she passes by him, she gives him what looks like a bone-shatteringly hard arm squeeze – if the pained expression on Sam’s face is any indication -- and comes to stand beside your desk. “Now you know, buddy.”

“That I do,” he says, backing up until he reaches the door. “Anyways, I gotta, uh –"

Not even finishing his sentence, he high-tails it out of the room so fast you barely see him leave. You turn to Natasha with a frown. She looks back at you innocently, but you catch the way her lip twitches a little bit before she breaks into a full blown smirk.

“You’re going to give someone have a heart attack one day, you know,” you say, half-serious. “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t already.”

Unbothered, Natasha shrugs and reaches out to tug you closer to her in order to kiss you, a little more intensely than you would normally allow at work. You melt into it with a sigh, smiling a little.

Eventually, you have to pull away when you start to struggle to breathe and your head starts spinning. Natasha makes an unhappy sound, trying to follow, but you stand firm.

“Nope, you’ve got to go before I’m the one that has the heart attack.”

With a pout, she gives you one more kiss before she gives into your request.

You’ve never seen Natasha drunk before – hadn’t even thought she could get drunk but tonight she’s definitely wasted -- all thanks to Thor and whatever is in the mead he’d bought with him.

One thing you quickly realise about drunk Natasha is drunk Natasha also means confrontational Natasha.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about –”

Her and Tony are almost nose to nose at this point, about ten minutes into what was now a heated conversation, and you’re kind of wondering if either of them even knows what they’re arguing about. You don’t think so and by the looks on the other avengers faces, they seem to have as much of an idea as you do.

As Natasha and Tony continue to argue, you look to your left and the young waiter who’d been hovering by your table a little too attentively all night is immediately by your side.

So Natasha can’t see you, you quickly mouth the word water to him and thankfully he seems to understand because he gives you a quick nod and then disappears, reappearing just as swiftly with a glass in his hand.

“Here, Miss –"

“No!” Ending her argument with Tony as abruptly as it began, Natasha jabs a finger at the waiter, who looks to you for help while she glares up at him balefully.

The poor guy looks terrified, so you quickly intervene, touching Natasha’s knee to bring her attention back to you. It does the trick, but she seems to underestimate how close in proximity you already are and she ends up half in your lap to the delight of the other avengers in attendance, who all let out various different whistles.

“Mine,” she says childishly into the crook of your arm. You only just manage to pick it up so you know you must be the only person who heard her. With your help, she sits up a little and makes eye contact with you as she repeats herself, more seriously, as if you hadn’t understood the first time: “mine.”

“I – oh --okay,” you say, grabbing her hand as it starts to creep a little too low to be polite in your current company. “How about we get you home?”

After hurriedly saying your goodbyes, twenty minutes later you park in your driveway and begin the not-so-small feat of getting her inside.

“Damn,” you grunt a little under her weight as you help her up the stairs to your apartment. “What do they put into that Asgardian mead?”

You make a mental note to ask Thor about it and then promptly forget as you reach your front door and fumble around, looking for your keys.

Even in her inebriated state, Natasha somehow pulls herself together enough to reach into your bag and pull them put for you so you can unlock the door.

Which she promptly falls through. You just manage to catch her before she hits the floor, and she leans against you, burying her face into your neck.

“Come on,” you order gently, softening as she groans into your skin. “Bed.”

“No.”

As if to emphasise the word, Natasha shakes her head, but to your surprise, she starts to make her way to your bedroom anyway. She’s still a little unsteady on her feet but nothing like you’d be if you’d drank as much as she had. If it were you, you would definitely have been comatose about seven shots and multiple hours ago.

“Alright, you get into bed,” you say. “And I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Natasha scowls. “No,” she says. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh at the petulance you hear in her voice, shadowing her to the bed, where she immediately sits down and attempts multiple times to take off her heels with little success.

“No?”

Finally having enough of watching her struggle, you lean down and undo the straps of her heels, gently pulling them off her feet. You watch as she flops back on the bed and then covers her face dramatically with a groan. “You don’t get it,” she says unsteadily.

“I don’t get what?”

“You’re mine,” she repeats her earlier words, uncovering her eyes to look at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

You thought you’d managed to cover your amusement pretty well until you see the glare she shoots you that says she can see it loud and clear. After a beat of silence it becomes clear she’s not going to say anything else.

With difficulty, you slowly manage to get her into a sitting position and help her out of her dress, pulling the covers up around her and retrieving a glass of water that you place on her nightstand so she can drink it in the morning.

You then change yourself and go the bathroom to remove what makeup you’d had on. To your surprise, she’s still awake when you emerge, half-propped up against the headboard and looking at you with bleary, unfocused eyes. It makes your heart turn to mush immediately and you get into bed beside her as quickly as your feet allow.

She immediately curls up into you and you wrap an arm around her, pulling her as close to you as humanly possible.

“I am yours, just so you know.”

There’s a second of silence where you start to think that maybe she’s fallen asleep, until she shifts against you to meet your gaze, looking a little more alert and coherent but still out of it.

“Good,” she says softly.

The next morning, you wake before Natasha and slip out of bed to make her coffee and to find some pain killers, having a gut feeling she’ll probably need them. Your feeling turns out to be right. When you re-enter the bedroom, she’s laying face-down but clearly awake by the muffled groaning you can hear coming from her.

“Whys’it so bright,” she mumbles into the mattress as you approach the bed, turning her head ever so slightly so she can meet your eyes. You grin down at her.

“Ah, it awakens.”

She scowls up at you and you laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as you slide back into bed, careful not to jostle her too much. She leans her head against your leg, slowly sipping the glass of water you’d left for her last night before reaching for the coffee on the nightstand.

You fall into a comfortable silence; you running your hand through her hair as she drinks her coffee, humming contentedly.

“How are you feeling –"

“I don’t like it when people look at you,” she interrupts suddenly, staring down into her coffee mug and sounding uncharacteristically nervous. You freeze but since she’s not looking at you, she doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s not because of anything you do. I just don’t … like it.”

“Okay?” you hedge cautiously, not really understanding.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” she says. “Me. Being like that. I didn’t know I was even the type to –"

“It doesn’t bother me.”

At your quick interjection, she looks at you for the first time and whatever she sees on your face makes her smile faintly. “It doesn’t?”

You bite your lip. “Not at all.”

She mirrors you, now smirking. “Oh.”

After this, it starts to become a game: one you feel like you win every time.

#natasha romanoff x reader

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raewritez · 3 years

Text

Still | Pt. 2

continuation of this request: I’m thirsty for a love triangle. Maybe Sokka and Zuko fighting for the reader’s affection. And she chooses ____!

warnings: simping, jealousy, obliviousness, she/her pronouns

Sokka’s ending

Zuko felt guilty.

The Water Tribe boy had been sulking for days now, grumbling under his breath and sending pointed glared Zuko’s way. The jokes he would’ve usually made around the campfire remained unspoken, replaced instead by uncomfortable silence and heavy sighs. Zuko knew Sokka well enough to know this wasn’t normal, and though Sokka had denied any accusations of moodiness or changes in behavior, Zuko had a hunch as to the reason for his despondency.

He’d recognized it when he’d first arrived. The affection that seemed to follow the two of you like an aura didn’t go unnoticed by the Firebender, and though he’d tried to ignore it he knew that wasn’t fair. Not to Sokka, not to you. Zuko knew you were upset - he saw your worried stares that lingered after the boy and the way your fingers extended towards him as if they were pulled. You’d been quieter, too, Sokka’s hostile demeanor wearing you down and inflicting you with endless confusion and longing. Zuko saw, and he knew. No one could deny it, the care you had for him. It was as obvious as Sokka’s care for you.

Zuko rose early - with the sun, as he liked to say - awakening with birdsong and peeking sunlight. He strained his eyes open with a yawn and a stretch, rubbing his palms along his face. Exiting the tent, he was surprised when his eyes fell on a figure perched atop the cliffside. They were hunched over, their head in their hands and their hair loose from its usual tie. Zuko exhaled, sparing a glance towards your tent before heading Sokka's way.

The awkwardness crept up on him, growing with each step and seizing his limbs in the way it would feel to walk through cold water. The ground crunched under his boots and the sound drew to him blue eyes that darkened upon sight, turning away and returning to their gaze resting upon the valley. Standing behind Sokka, Zuko shuffled on his feet before deciding to sit. His legs hung over the rocky terrace, hands prickled by gravel. Mustering up his courage, he spoke.

"Um, you're up early."

Sokka barely spared a glance, opting to focus on the array of pebbles lining the ground. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "Couldn't sleep."

Zuko nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, for sure."

A moment of silence, and Zuko felt like caving in on himself. It hadn't been this tense between the two boys for a while, not since before Zuko chose good. They were friends, choosing each other's company on errand runs or fishing trips, bonding over sparring and the mere companionship of another friend like themselves. There hadn't been this awkwardness, this distance. But that was before, before you became something more and playful banter had become unspoken competition. But it wasn't ever a competition, not really, and Zuko had realized that. Because the means of your affection were unchallengeable, and Zuko knew who they belonged to. And though the heart of his childhood self may have once longed for yours in return, it simply was not him.

"Sokka," he said, shaking away his uncertainty. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Sokka's eyes met his, and Zuko became aware of the soft resignation in his expression. He mustered a smile, that charming grin that always managed to sooth the group's worries, that could put any mind at ease.

"Hey, don't worry about it, Zuko. If this is about what I think it's about, then there's really nothing to talk about. It's all you, buddy."

Zuko's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"It's all you. You know, you don't have to fight me or anything. I get that you guys have history and I can respect that, you don't -"

"Sokka, what are you talking about?"

His brows furrowed, confusion glossing over him. "We - we're talking about Y/n, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then it's fine. You can go and tell her how-"

"Sokka."

"-you feel and it'll be totally fine. I mean, I don't care like, at all. If she's happy I'm happy, y'know? And besides, you guys-"

He was talking rapidly now, hoping his words could make up for the hole in his chest. He was loosing you, he just knew it. And to Zuko, no less. Spirits, he did not want to see you with him, didn't want to see you with anyone but himself alone. But you were more important than how he felt, and if you loved Zuko then that's-

"Sokka!"

His rambling was cut short, and he found himself panting a bit from the lack of air. The look on Zuko's face was disbelieving - some sort of stupidity-laced astonishment accompanied by a mischievous grin.

Sokka swallowed. "Yeah?" he croaked out.

"It's not me."

He shook his head. "Zuko-"

"It's not," Zuko spoke. His words were firm, final. His prince's voice. "Maybe at some point I wanted it to be, but it's not me. I know how you feel about her, Sokka. And I know she feels the same."

His mouth fell open at his commanding tone, at the puncturing decisiveness of his words. The meaning of them set in a moment later. "Are you- are you..."

"Yeah," Zuko smiled. "I'm sure, Sokka."

His blue eyes stared once again across the valley, gleaming with vulnerability and cautious hope. After a moment, he grinned, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. "She feels the same." He spoke it like a child, giddy with excitement and whispered like a prayer. Zuko couldn't help the tug of his lips.

"O-kay, buddy," he said, standing and stifling a chuckle at Sokka's dreamy expression. "I'll leave you to it, then."

He began his way back to the campsite, his friends finding their way out of their tents and filling the air with the beginnings of morning greetings. A second, then a call.

"Zuko!"

He turned, finding Sokka appearing much more like his old self. "Thank you."

Zuko nodded, and with bittersweet content walked down the slope.

///

The sun was a red shadow across your eyelids, and the muscles fought to strain it out. You could make out faint chattering, scuffling feet and an aroma emanating from the fire that lured you to your feet. You stretched and yawned, muscles sore from days of traveling and mind clouded with an exhaustion that went deeper than could be made palatable by the nourishment of sleep. You were tired of Sokka's attitude and you had half a mind to excuse him from the luxury of your kindness. Whatever. You weren't going to let him ruin your morning.

Mornings with your friends always held a certain domesticity that never failed to bring a smile to your face. Katara stood, as she usually did, above a pot that no doubt held some delicious combination of fruit or steaming rice. Aang was tending to Appa, sending a smile and a wave your way with a call of "Good morning, Y/n!". You smiled and waved back, offering a call of your own. Toph was still sleeping, and Zuko...was talking to Sokka? Strange...you could've sworn they were fighting at the moment.

You walked over to Katara, winding your arms around her waist and placing your head on her shoulder. "Morning, 'Tara," you mumbled sleepily. "Whatcha making?"

"Rice, and some meat we got from town," she replied, chuckling a bit at your affection.

"Sounds good."

From atop her shoulder your eyes met Zuko's, and he offered you a smile. You peeled yourself off of her and made your way over to him, sparing a glance at Sokka's figure still hunched over the cliffside. "Hey," you said.

He stopped in front of you. "Hey."

You peered over his shoulder. "Sokka's up early."

He straightened up suddenly, eyes brightening. "Uh, yeah! You should go talk to him! You know, just the two of you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because! You guys are friends, and friends should talk to each other. Maybe he has....something really interesting to say?"

He was just about bouncing on his feet now, and you were extremely confused as to why he was pushing you to go talk to Sokka. Sure, you wanted to, but he definitely didn't. And...why was Zuko acting so weird?

"I guess?"

He nodded reverently, placing his hands on your shoulders to steer you behind him. "Yeah! So go, um, have fun!"

He walked away briskly, and you were left in confusion. You turned to where Sokka sat, leg bouncing and hair loose, just how you liked it.

You guessed it couldn't hurt, right?

Walking up the sloping hill, the view of the valley below pooled out in front of you. Endless green kissed by sunlight, sounds of glistening streams playing like a far-off song. Your eyes fell on Sokka, and your heart tugged. You missed him. You had longed to speak with him, to be alone together in perfect contentment like you used to, but he 'd either shut you down or you'd loose the energy to try again. But maybe Zuko knew something you didn't, so you mustered up the courage and sat down next to him.

His eyes darted to you instantly, widening as he sat up straighter.

"Hi," you muttered, picking gravel from the earth to sift through your fingers.

"Hi," he breathed.

You turned to him and he stared, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He wondered if you could hear it. Your eyes were curious and hesitant, and he felt suddenly shy under your gaze.

"How're you doing?" You asked him, absent-mindedly drinking in the sight of him cloaked in all his morning glory.

"Good," he answered quickly, sharply. "H-how're you?"

"I'm good," you said softly. He stared, seemingly lost in thought, before shaking his head as if in awakening and turning away. You sat there next to him, bathed in silence and uncertainty. For once, you didn't know what to say to him. A moment, then another, and you began internally berating Zuko for his "advice". You were reaching the conclusion that maybe this wasn't a good idea, when an intake of breath from beside you stilled your thoughts.

Sokka's mouth opened and closed, and a war was painted on his face. He wanted to say something. He looked to you, and at meeting your eyes he seemed to grow more secure. He scooted closer, shuffling across the ground so that your knees were but a breath away and you could feel the enchantment of his warmth.

"Y/n," he bit his lip, searching. Spirits, how was he supposed to do this? These were not the conditions in which he'd imagined the truth would arise, but here he was. "Yes?" you questioned, and he calmed. You would listen, you always did. You wouldn't leave, you never had. Finally, he breathed. "I'm sorry."

Those words were out, and everything else followed after.

"I'm so, so sorry. I've been awful to you. I didn't mean to be, but I guess I was just...jealous? I mean, you and Zuko....no, that's not fair. I know you guys are friends and were friends for a long time, but I guess I just...I mean, you were my friend, and then he came and I only realized it then, and then I was upset because you were with him and not with me, and I couldn't even tell you that I realized it because I was being so stupid, and-"

"Realized what, Sokka?"

He paused, mouth snapping shut. Your expression was questioning, a bit lost from his ranting, and he was implored to confess.

"Y/n, I-" He met your stare once again, those e/c eyes that he had fallen so deep into. Deciding words were not for him, he did the only other thing that could possibly convey what he felt, and how much he felt it. He moved forward, grasping your face between his palms. He leaned in slowly, awaiting any signs of discomfort or rejection. When he found none, he pressed his lips to yours.

It was surprising, how soft his lips were. They seemed to carry every bit of warmth that he'd ever shown to you, every ounce of love he carried in his body. He moved smoothly against you, and you melted. Your eyes slipped shut, arms winding around his neck and fingers running through his hair. He kept you pressed firmly against him, and you would have no complaints if you were told you were trapped there forever. His palms cupped your cheeks, thumb stroking the skin. Air was not thought of until it had to be, and you pulled away, though not more than a whisper.

He kept his forehead pressed against yours and you smiled, a laugh pulling forth from your lips. His chest rumbled with yours, stealing another peck from you with a wide grin.

"That's why you were ignoring me? That's dumb, Sokka."

He chuckled. "I know, I'm sorry."

You smiled, leaning up to press against him once again. "It's ok," you said. "You can make it up to me."

—————-

taglist: @satans-bae-and-queen

#avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #atla #fire lord zuko #aang x reader #legend of korra #avatar #avatar: tla #sokka x reader #zuko x reader #sokka #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x you

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fbfh · 3 years

Text

I mean, you did ask - leo x reader

all characters are aged up to 18+ for smexy subtext

word count: 2k

pairing: leo x gn child of calliope reader

genre: adventure, romance, hints at a lowkey soulmate au

summary: after a bumpy reunion turned interrogation with your friends, you finally prove to Leo that you’re someone worth catching up with

warnings: swearing, friends hold you at knife point (for good reason) memory loss, dimesion/reality travel, the phrase “horrible sexy little goose” not about an actual animal, moderate time difference between worlds, reader is acting like a cocky piece of shit half the time, you call yourself sexy a lot, annabeth slaps reader and reader is unbothered, reader and leo hae very visceral reactions upon seeing each other, piper picks up on this, moderately aggressive face grabbing, discussing personal info with someone somewhat privately, brief mentions of hand holding and hair pulling during sex, you spill tea about the rest of the demisquad, I think that’s it pls tell me if I missed any

song rec: choke - i don’t know how but they found me

a/n: this is from a very vivid daydream I had so er ah if reader seems op coded that’s cause she is uwu

You were excited to reunite with your friends after so long, but being tied up and held hostage at knifepoint by the people you love who don’t even remember you wasn’t the welcome wagon you were hoping for. Then again, as a child of Calliope, you can’t say you’re surprised.

Apollo has a lot of kids, but demigod children of the muses are exceptionally less common. They’re volatile, really powerful, extremely engrossed in their art, and usually care more about their latest thesis paper or painting or manuscript than going on quests, and more often than not have very specific powers. You, for example, love quests but feel like you never get to go on any, usually because you’re fighting monsters somewhere else. One fun little power you inherited from your mom is - somewhat involuntary - dimension shifting.

A lot of times you just get summoned somewhere else, with a little inherent background knowledge and your weapon, set free into the new world like a horrible sexy little goose. There’s usually some kind of objective you need to meet; find this person, set something in motion, give someone support in a time of need, deliver a package. After that, you get sent back to your family at camp half blood. The catch, one of them at least, is that a few days Somewhere Else could be no more than a few minutes in your homeverse.

Another catch is that because of all that, and the fact that you wouldn’t know how to begin explaining, let alone if anyone would believe you, no one knows you can do this yet. Chiron has an idea, but you’ve never told anyone outright.

You guess now is as good of a time as any to come clean, as Percy holds his sword threateningly close to your neck. You let out a disbelieving laugh, and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, okay… you want the truth?” he starts to back off, and you continue, leaning forward, “I’m not surprised you’d want to know where someone this sexy-” your words cut off as Annabeth’s hand slaps you across the face. You let out a laugh of disbelief, cheek stinging.

“A cheap shot, Annabeth? Wow, I really didn’t take you for the type,” she grabs your face, leaning in close, knife once again against your throat.

"How do you know my name." She hisses, and behind her, the door opens. Messy dark curls peek over her head in your vision and you know instantly who it is. Your heart starts pounding, loud and hard, and something heavy starts swirling deep in your gut. Your eyes lock as soon as he enters the room and an instinctive smile blooms on your face, knowing what's inevitably on its way.

"Hey Sparky…"

Your voice, slow and drawling (and, he'd be lying if he didn't say kind of very sexy) impales him as soon as he enters the room. He watches your pupils expand, eyes locked, immediately swept away by your magnetic aura. A fox like grin decorates your pretty face, and he gets the feeling you know more than you let on. Way more. He's so drawn to you on a guttural level, way more than he's ever been to someone before. His face is hot, and when you slowly wink at him, he feels flames erupt on his cheeks. It takes him a second to put it out, feeling your white hot gaze on him the entire time.

Piper, who's been helping with your interrogation, looks back and forth between you two as this progresses, taking in a breath and mumbling a shocked, "Oh," as she begins to understand.

"How are those repairs coming?" Jason asks, oblivious to everything that's happening between you two.

"Uh… nearly done…" Leo mutters, watching as you hold back an elated giggle at the sound of his voice. You never forget how good it feels to see him again, but the fresh feeling is always better than you can imagine. Jason glances between you two, and walks over to Leo, suspicious of your interest in him.

"I'll walk you back," Jason says, glaring at you. Your eyes stay locked with Leo's until the door finally closes again. Piper stares at you, bewildered by the tension turned to frantic energy crackling around both you and Leo. She can sense it on him even after he's out of the room.

Annabeth finally drops your face, pacing and pinching the bridge of her nose. Percy slams him hands down on the table and levels his face with yours.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. How do you know us?"

You stare at the table for a second, still thinking about him. You have to see him again. You’ve waited for too long, you just can’t do it anymore.

“H- okay. Um,” You blink a few times, facade falling away almost instantly as you look up in a silent prayer that this doesn’t go as badly as you feel like it will. You sigh, looking back up at the other people in the room, a new, deliberate intention in your eyes that they hadn’t seen before.

“You want to know why I’m here?”

Their answer is the silence that follows.

“You’re not gonna believe me.” They look around at each other, collectively thinking about everything they’ve been through in the last year alone.

“Try us.” Annabeth replies. You sigh again, and introduce yourself. “...I’m a child of Calliope, muse of epic poetry, and I know you all because we grew up together. One of the fun - quirks, I inherited from my mom is traveling into different stories, or realities, I guess. It’s hard to control, and sometimes happens involuntarily. I adapt to wherever I am, and the universe sort of auto adjusts to follow the rules that stories have to follow.

The reason you don’t remember me is because I was gone for a really long time, and your story had to keep going. Trying to find me wouldn’t have moved the plot forward, questioning where I went would have been confusing, so it did the simplest thing and edited me out so you could get closer to meeting your objectives.”

Once again, their silence is your answer.

“Guys, sidebar.” Annabeth says, pulling Percy, Jason, and Piper out of the room for a moment. The come back in a little while later, and she looks you dead in the eye.

“If you really know us as well as you say you do, prove it. Tell us you’d only know if we were as close as you say we were.”

You sigh yet again, having lost count at how many times that’s happened today alone. You roll your shoulders and bob your head, irritable that you’re still restrained and itching to move.

“Is there anything we can do before the whole tell me something really personal thing?”

Percy looks at you, challenging.

“Can you do it or not?”

Another noise of exasperation leaves you, and you agree, resignation all over your face.

“You know what, yeah. Okay, we’re doing this. Someone go get Leo.” An involuntary smile once again launches onto your face at the mention of his name. Jason starts to object.

“Hey, I’m not going to spill something personal about someone when they’re not in the room.” They agree reluctantly, and Jason leaves, returning again with Leo. You look at him again, enraptured by his presence. He can’t say he doesn’t like the attention - a hottie like you looking at him like that? Yes, please - but something about it feels different, and he gets the feeling there’s a lot more going on than they’re aware of.

You nod your head once, indicating for him to come closer. He gets a little closer. You widen your eyes, nodding two more times, and he hesitantly gets within whispering distance.

You turn your head to your left, dangerously close to his face. He can feel his pulse already speeding up. Heat radiates between your faces, your breath fanning over his neck as you whisper slowly,

“You really… really like holding hands, and when I pull your hair during sex.”

He pulls away from you quickly, beet red, bewildered expression obvious to everyone in the room. “H-how-”

“How do you think?” You reply calmly, loving everything about him, “Okay, to be fair…” you nod once more, eyes flaring, and he leans in once again, equally hesitant and curious. Your words tickle his ear, seeming to light up his entire nervous system like a firecracker.

“I really really like when you bite that spot on my neck, just below my ear.”

He pulls away again, trying not to literally and figuratively combust. He stares in your eyes intensely, searching for anything besides the truth. He finds absolutely nothing. He turns around, unable to look his friends in the eye.

“They’re legit, guys.”

“Wait, what did you say to him?” Piper asks, unsure if she wants to know the answer.

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees, “what if it’s some kind of mind control-” Your deep, burning desire to finally hold Leo after god knows how long is starting to beat your better judgement, and you really, really want to be untied from this stupid chair. “Annabeth! Your favorite show was Cyber Chase growing up, you used to come up with plans on how to defeat Hacker, your best was cutting off his food supply - good strategy, I’ve used it before, myself.

Percy, you feel like you can’t sing because you were forced to participate in an elementary school recital and some kid called you tonedeaf behind your back, it kicked you right in the RSD balls.

Piper, you’re a closet weeb, you watched Ouran High School Host club obsessively and still do sometimes, you fell for Jason because he had, quote, 'Tamaki's looks and Kyoya's brains, the ideal man'.

Jason, that scar on your lip is from biting a stapler as a child-"

"Okay, everyone knows that-"

"-and," you continue, showing no signs of stopping, "the reason you ate the stapler is because you were pretending to be a trash compactor because you saw one on TV.

Nico is totally not right outside the door keeping guard right now, but if he were and you asked him if he likes the diary of a wimpy kid movies he'll ask how the hell you know that - should I continue."

Again, the answers are in the silence hovering in the room.

“I think it’s about time to catch me up on what I missed.”

A beat passes.

“Right,” Annabeth says, blinking and readjusting her ponytail as she sits down across from you, Percy already taking the bindings off of your wrists, “so, about the quest…”

She starts to fill you in on the details you missed, bringing you up to speed. After a little while you all decide to call it a night. Piper senses your energy ramping up in spite of the exhaustion settling in. You finally bid them all good night, but Piper’s not sold by your forced yawns. After what feels like another lifetime, you finally leave the room you’ve been in for hours with one objective.

You can’t stay away from him anymore, you have to find Leo.

After navigating a maze of hallways and doors, you finally push open the right one to see him looking up at you, and find yourself saying for the second time tonight,

“Hey, Sparky…”

His heart is racing, and he gets that heavy, full feeling in his chest again, not having fully shaken it from the last time you saw each other. Looking into your eyes makes him nostalgic for something he can’t quite remember, and he knows with full certainty that you have more history than he’s aware of. He wants more than anything in this moment to remember. He sets down the wrench in his hand, taking a step toward you.

“Hey…”

#leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

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shouldntcryoverit · 3 years

Text

a clone fit for a ball.

Commander Fox x Reader

I think initially I wanted to write this as a whole story, but it’s quite a lot and (because i haven’t been too active) I just sorted wanted to post something yk :) hope you enjoy! <33

———————————————————————

It’s a dramatised reality if you think about it. The idea of a gathering with the only intention being to appease the aching sore that is political pillow talk, is one that is so pompous it seems that those who benefit from the scheme are the ones who design it. It’s a drawn out, legislative, painfully particular game of charades disguised in lavish clothes and large hats. In almost every way, those garments are often large enough and sparkly enough to hide the deceit they cover, and persuade each mindless baboon that is gormless to fall victim to it to enter into the game themselves. It’s a repetitive cycle, and stupid though it may be; it does work.

Though there was beauty in it that you just couldn’t deny. The decorations were enough to mesmerise you entirely; lavishly hung around each bannister and archway of the senate hall. Bright colours of orange and pink were scattered across the flower arrangements that littered the walls and their accents. Whatever had been done to spritz life into the chandeliers and lighting had worked its magic, for the perfectly lit definitions gave luminosity and warmth all in one squeezing breath. It was inviting and spectacular; a collaboration of everything the senate appeared to be. Even as the floor beneath your heeled feet glistened with rich delight, the pit in your stomach still swallowed your joy.

Your hatred for all things political had always been your strength and your weakness, especially as a senator. You represented your home planet well enough to protect it’s people, but you would not stand for the same deceitful bulldozing that reduced planets and people to nothing more than pawns or money makers. It meant that you stood for nothing you disbelieved in, including ridiculously regimented senate balls.

Nevertheless, you needed a way in. Your planet had been overlooked for far too long; the cries of your people ignored. You needed a trade deal and you needed one that wouldn’t result in republic outposts and war dependancy littering your already fighting home world. A ball was a good opportunity for political match making, and it was one you couldn’t give up.

It was that reasoning that had led you as far as a blue, bejewelled dress that suffocated what waist you apparently had, and hugged each curve with malice. Even with the anger dripping from your rouged lips, you couldn’t deny it. You did look rather pretty. It was a small triumph, but one that gave you confidence enough to manage the heels that’d been handed to you. As you caught a reflection of yourself leaning heavily against the arm of a guard in a particularly shiny section of the wall, you realised just how pretty you did look. Perhaps there was something addicting in the madness of it all: perhaps there was something powerful about a low cut dress and tousled hair.

Your entrance was timely, a rushed manner donned after slightly too much time taken trying to find the dammed place. Typical of Coruscant, you muttered. Two guards in white and red nodded at your arrival, both seemingly emotionless under their plastoid helmets. It was something that’d always confused you about the clone army; all painfully identical, yet lightyears apart from each other. A brotherhood was one thing, yet could you even call it that?

The thought itself was fleeting, though one you were sure to ponder later. You passed those statues of guards within seconds and continued on your warpath to the ‘reception’. It didn’t take much for you to be recognised; the perks of being one of the only senators with detailed and beautiful facial markings. It was something you prided most. The rest was a blur, but you made it into the hall and straight into a chair that’d apparently been pulled out for you. The man to your left was a kindly looking togruta, the woman to your right your stern faced guard, who looked murderous in comparison.

“My dear, aren’t you cold?” The togruta asked with a genuine smile. The question made a small laugh sprout up your throat.

“Perhaps, though my heart is beating far too fast for it to be uncomfortable.” You replied with that charming tone in your voice you’d perfected.

Everything was an act; your shoulders perked up and back to lift your chin in power and confidence, the planned placement of your hands across the table, your silken voice as it left your silken mouth. Even the unplanned conversation would seem regimented, though the Togruta’s nature settled your mind with authentic care.

“Ah, now that I can understand.” He shuffled, uncomfortable or unsure you couldn’t tell. “I do apologise, but I cant seem to place you.”

You paused again with an unfaltering expression of tenderness.

“Oh well I know you, Governor Roshti. But I don’t blame you, I took over from Madame Liobrev shortly after she resigned from senatorial status. This is my first ball to say the least.” There was a hint of an exhale by the end of your scentence, it felt good to admit even subtly that you were out of your depth.

“Well it doesn’t show, I only hope my name hasn’t ingrained in your mind the way it has in so many’s.” The sadness that fell across his face was just as genuine as the smile that it had replaced. It made the compassionate side of you ache.

“You did what this god forsaken war made you do, I see no reason for shame to fall upon you or your people. Battle leaves us all defenceless.” The spite of your tongue was heavy; anger for the war too many fell victim to.

“Thank you, my dear.”

You smiled once again, before turning back to your guard. She was perched haughtily on her seat, weapon securely hidden but it’s presence obvious. Her attire was in contrast to yours; armour and garments all of dark colours and metal accents. She looked like a warrior, and you were momentarily envious.

“Taurin you really ought to relax. Senators aren’t that vicious. Or at least not when they’re sedated with flattery and shiny things.” You joked, desperate to take the edge of both her and yourself.

Taurin, the guard, bowed her head in humor, a distant smile forming over her pursed lips. It was one you were incredibly fond of, and one you had grown to recognise as endearment.

“M’lady, it’s not the senators I’m worried about.”

You laughed; a breathy laugh that corrupted your lungs and throat.

“What more could you possibly find challenging about a ball this compensated for. Perhaps it’s that my shoes will grow painful on my feet? Enjoy yourself!” You pressured with sweet intentions.

She turned to face you with a vindictive smile laced with sour belief. Her eyes trailed over your reeling eyes in silent conversation, seconds before they jolted off their steady trajectory just past your head. What had been childish remark soon freezed over to slight panic and question. You noticed the change almost instantly and frowned with creased eyebrows. As your head began to swivel to turn to her opponent, she screeched and forced you down.

The fall from your chair wasn’t high, but the adrenaline and shock of the direct hit made it seem endless. You hit the hard floor with a mind numbing crack, one that caused your eyes to widen before you realised it was only one of the many jewels that laced your back splintering; rather than something a critical. Nonetheless, the shot that flew past certainly was real.

The bullet soared over your head, frowning that it had missed it’s target. You couldn’t even process what had happened before Taurin fell to your level, teeth clenched in agony. You reacted as best you could with hands fumbling around her leaking wound; but she swatted you away and thrusted your head down once more. That one bullet, the one that had cursed your luck and gone for your guard in spite of it, had previously had a purpose. Your mind lingered on that fact for a second before you pushed past it. Searching eyes found Governor Roshti’s, who had copied your move and positioned himself just under the table.

You couldn’t hear much over your panting breath; nothing except the shouts and screams of senators whose useless lives felt threatened, so naturally, just like their entire life’s work, they do nothing except complain and wail. It was dark under the thick tablecloth, too dark for anything to be made clear to you. Taurin had wriggled further away and was holding her position behind your table, a gun most definitely in her hand.

Three shots. Four shots. Two. One. Silence.

Now really all you could hear was your panting breath. The blood rushing through your ears made a ringing sound, and the tingling in your veins made the fastness of your heart seem ordinary. Governor Roshti made no adjustments to his stance at the silence, but you were itching to unfold your coiled legs and poke you head up and out of the cover. Like most things you did, you did it without asking. The carnage wasn’t as bad as the screams foretold it to be, but as soon as your vision shifted you saw the agony splayed over Taurin’s face.

“Help! Medic!” Was the instantaneous shout from your lips.

One of the clone guards from earlier shot up. He wore a kama around his waist and his armour was weathered; something that told you he was rough without him having to speak a word.

“Ma’am sit back down, we don’t know where the attackers went.” He commanded.

“I can manage.”

His helmet tilted slightly in what you assumed to be annoyance. With two fingers pointing he signalled for a medic to step forward. The new clone looked significantly younger through the way he held himself and the shining of his uniform. With Taurin being led away, you finally let go of the breath you’d been holding.

“Ma’am-“

“I’d like to know who just tried to kill me.” The clone looked slightly surprised at the deadpan tone of your voice. “And who shot my closest guard.”

He grimaced from under his helmet and lifted his hand up to his visor to tap into his comm channel.

“This is Commander Fox, what’s our status?” He spoke; a velvety tone lacing the authority in his voice.

Fox. It wasn’t bad. Your mind shifted once again as his comm crackled back at him.

“Suspect... run... in pursuit... ty hunter.” Was all you could make out, but it didn’t take a genius to fill in the gaps.

“They won’t find the assailant while pampering senators.” You spoke, cringing slightly at the privilege you held yourself; here you were demanding Commander of his time, all because you have some morsel of perhaps undeserved power.

“I’m sorry” Perhaps an attempt to reconcile your blundering thoughtlessness would change the trooper’s aggravated stance. “I only meant that it would help if the senators uninvolved were to be sent home and out of your hair, it can’t be fun listening to them whine.”

His head tilted slightly in what you hoped to be a grin. “You’re not wrong, but I’m afraid I can’t keep you alone in protection. Not when we don’t actually know who was the intended target.”

“Commander, let me help. Before I was a senator I was a member of the guard. I’m afraid I can just about handle myself.” There was more than a hint of pride in your voice as you spoke.

Fox shook his head and lifted off his helmet. It would be far to say you lost your breath at the sight of his actual face. In the few seconds you spent mentally sketching his face into your brain, your mind fastened at his slightly too-long-to-be-neat mop of curly hair, and how it fell playfully over his deeply tanned forehead. His cheekbones were sharp enough to shut you up (which was, as he’d come to discover, wasn’t actually that easy) let alone the bite of his jaw.

But it was his eyes that made you most intriguing; deep and wise auburn eyes set perfectly amongst weathered skin. They watched you for a moment before the eyebrows above them lifted slightly in confusion.

You hadn’t meant to stare. Or maybe you had, it was unimportant.

“Fine, I’ll take you back to the office while the boys take the others to a safe space.” He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem as begrudging anymore; a small victory.

“Thank you, although I may need a change in shoes.”

At this he did grin; and it was marvellous.

#commander fox #the coruscant guard #tcw #the clone wars #commander fox x reader #clone wars #fox x reader #fox x you #the clones #clones #the cw #incorrect clone wars

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malkumtend · 3 years

Text

I Like Your Laugh - A SquirrelCrow AU - Chapter 22.

Feathertail didn’t move once, save for the gentle hold of her tail on Squirrelpaw’s back, as the apprentice cried into her chest. The cat let her friend release her swelling emotions, keeping close all the while until Squirrelpaw was ready to let go.

That wouldn’t be so soon.

Squirrelpaw didn’t think she had the heart to step away, lest it make her wake up to the bleak forest she could not call her home. Just a moment ago, it looked like Squirrelpaw had lost all the friends she had learnt to love. She had already lost Feathertail once, she couldn’t lose her again. Her nose nuzzled deeper, her smile broadening as Feathertail’s purr rumbled over her small body.

“It’s alright, Squirrelpaw.” Feathertail mewed. Her voice seemed to echo in starstruck ripples across the air. It felt nice; like a smooth stroke over Squirrelpaw’s back. “I’m not going to disappear if you let go.”

The chirp, sweet and strong, could have only been made by her.

Squirrelpaw didn’t step back, but she looked up. Feathertail was still there. Her blue eyes glimmered impossibly. Every part of her from her fleecy soft tail to the glorious shine of her silver fur was as real as could be here. Squirrelpaw smiled, blinking away a few soft teardrops. “I missed you so much.” She said, pressing her cheek against Feathertail’s chest again for good measure.

She missed feeling like this. So happy. So comforted. It had been so long.

“I know. I missed you too.” Squirrelpaw felt a smooth tongue brush comfortingly over her ear. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Despite the familiar love in that voice, Squirrelpaw’s chest overturned.

Safe.

That was what Feathertail should have been as well. Squirrelpaw bit her lip as the sting of realisation racked in her skull. Even if she could smell and feel Feathertail here, the blunt, cruel voice of reality made itself heard in her head. This wasn’t real. Not for Squirrelpaw anyway. Because she had seen the last remnants of Feathertail in her world. She had buried her beside the cats once called her friends.

The real parts of Feathertail were days away in the shadow of a waterfall. Lost in the memories of a final battle and sacrifice. The casualties of a failed plan.

Squirrelpaw’s failed plan.

The ginger molly’s face burned with painful responsibility. Almost instantly, Feathertail’s purrs ceased. “Squirrelpaw?” She mewed.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I was such a mouse-brain.” Squirrelpaw muttered, disgust strangling her chest. “Thinking that monster wouldn’t realise the prey was poisoned.” She looked up with a forlorn apology in her eyes. “If I had actually thought about things for once…”

“Squirrelpaw…”

“It’s true.” Squirrelpaw meowed, “I was so convinced it would work I didn’t even think about the consequences. And look what happened.”

Only three chosen cats returned.

Crowpaw becoming lifeless with torment.

Riverclan left without a sign.

The blame was clear.

Squirrelpaw’s face fell, feeling how little she deserved to look her friend in the eyes. “You should have come home with us, and now…” The hot drips of tears welled up again. “I’m so sorry, Feather-”

The apprentice flinched as she felt something touch her chin. Squirrelpaw let out a shivering breath as Feathertail gently lifted her face until they were eye to eye. She half expected there to be cold disappointment in that gentle face, a culmination of the hate she deserved.

But Feathertail’s face was the same as always. Kind, warm, worrying.

Squirrelpaw tried to look away, feeling suddenly guilty again, but Feathertail’s paw kept their gazes locked. The silver cat let out a noise that could only be described as glistening. At once, their mystical surroundings seemed to twinkle.

“Squirrelpaw, please don’t be so silly.” Like always, even her scoldings sounded like encouragement. The paw brushed over Squirrelpaw’s dampening eyes. “I didn’t think I’d need to tell you that it wasn’t your fault. What happened that night was already decided long before we met the Tribe. There was nothing that could have been done.”

That did not make Squirrelpaw feel any better. Not when Feathertail still wasn’t with them. “But maybe there was?”

Feathertail shook her head, her smile small. “There wasn’t. It was my destiny to die there, Squirrelpaw.”

Hearing that word was so much more gruelling than Squirrelpaw anticipated. Her eyes closed as she whipped her head feverishly. “No. Your destiny was to save Riverclan. That was what you were chosen for.” She didn’t want to imagine that she couldn’t have saved Feathertail. There had to be some way.

“I thought that as well.” Feathertail said, her eyes glazing. She looked up to the stars for a long moment. “But now I don’t think I was meant to save the clans at all. I told you about the voices I heard the night before we rescued Stormfur.”

Squirrelpaw slowly looked up, vaguely remembering the mention of voices.

Feathertail nodded. “I heard them Squirrelpaw. The ghosts of the Tribe. My own mother’s voice. I didn’t know what it meant at the time.” Her sparkling body seemed to illuminate as her eyes closed. Squirrelpaw watched in awe as colours began to churn above them. The shadowy blue twirled like a hummingbird in flight, its starry wings fluttering and casting aside like soft clouds. Shades of yellow and red awoke in the blue, like chicks chirping for their first feed, before growing beside the dusky colour. Mixing in ways that Squirrelpaw thought were impossible, the misty sky stroked aside and caught itself in an unbelievable symphony of light and dark. Somehow the sky looked stuck between twilight and sunlight.

It was glorious.

Feathertail breathed like she could feel every stream of light in her fur. “But now, I think I understand. The Tribe was why I was chosen, Squirrelpaw. With all of your help, I achieved what I was destined for.” Smiling, Feathertail licked Squirrelpaw’s cheek. “I have my friends to thank for that.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t speak, her mouth ajar, still too amazed by the twisting sky and her friend’s familiar benevolence. She breathed into her dry mouth. “But… But what about Riverclan?” She asked softly.

Feathertail blinked, then a soft grimace took over her mouth. There was a shade of knowing about her. “Riverclan will survive without me.”

Squirrelpaw’s chest began to hurt. The stony face of Leopardstar and the smug cruelty of Hawkfrost stung her memories. “Feathertail.” How was she expected to say this? To say that the leader Feathertail had stood by all her life, even after being betrayed by her as a kit, had treated her sacrifice like nothing. The apprentice swallowed like stones were caught in her throat. “Riverclan said they won’t come with the clans.”

“I know, Squirrelpaw.”

Surprise battered into Squirrelpaw like a falling tree. Feathertail knew? How could she…

“I’ve never left your sides.” Feathertail said, she stepped forward to rub her pelt with the apprentice’s. Squirrelpaw could hear the scratch of pain in her voice. “There hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t been watching over you all. Not once. I’ve seen everything Squirrelpaw, you don’t have to explain what’s happened.”

There was a bizarre sense of relief that crossed Squirrelpaw at that moment. She didn’t need to be the bearer of the terrible news. But when she thought about what Feathertail said, what it meant, she realised just how much Feathertail must have seen.

The destruction of the forest.

The rejection of the leaders.

The breakdown of her friends.

What realisation made way onto the apprentice’s face was enough for Feathertail to wilt in a way that made Squirrelpaw’s head hurt. A sickly feeling seemed to soak in her fur like damp mud. The image of Feathertail watching her clan ignore everything the cats had protested and fought for… “We tried.” The ginger cat said weakly.

“Oh Squirrelpaw.” Feathertail cooed, “There was nothing you could do. It was never going to be easy to convince all the leaders, even if I’d been there with you.” She nudged the molly with a soft paw. “You should be proud! You were able to convince Firestar and Tallstar after all! That’s better than nothing.”

“But it isn’t what we went on the journey for.” Squirrelpaw’s voice was a bitter low. “Every clan is meant to leave. That’s the only way we’ll all keep safe. But Shadowclan and Riverclan…” Squirrelpaw felt her claws clench as she saw Blackstar’s disbelieving snarl and Hawkfrost’s smug sneer. “If only the leaders would listen!”

A disappointed look shivered through Feathertail. “It is a shame that they’re not convinced yet. But you can’t lose hope, Squirrelpaw. I’m sure Tawnypelt and Stormfur will be able to convince the clans.”

“What if they can’t?” Brambleclaw’s question echoed in Squirrelpaw’s lips. “You saw how Blackstar and Leopardstar reacted, right? They won’t listen to a word we say!” Her eyes burst wide open. “Why didn’t we get a sign?” Squirrelpaw cried. “If we had just seen it the leaders could have known we were telling the truth! Where was Starclan when we needed them?” Suddenly hearing her own voice, her throat tightened as she looked around in fear. “Is-Is this Starclan? Or… a dream? Where are we?”

If she had practically cursed Starclan in their own territory it wouldn’t do much good back home. Squirrelpaw bit her lip as she stared at Feathertail frightfully.

Feathertail let out a gentle chuckle, “Don’t worry. I’m sure every cat in the forest is wondering where Starclan are right now?” She began to walk off into the direction of a bright field of flower laced hills, motioning with her tail for Squirrelpaw to follow. The apprentice gladly strolled on beside her, still keeping her head low in case she had offended any of her ancestors.

“You are dreaming, Squirrelpaw. But this place is connected to Starclan.” The Warrior explained. As they began to approach the flowery scopes of land, Squirrelpaw was amazed when she saw the flowers bend in their beds of land, as if the hills were creating a path for them. The crisp path of emerald grass was cool and sent a pleasurable shimmer over the she cats paws. “Every Warrior is connected in their spirits to Starclan so some can see it in visions or dreams if Silverpelt allows it. But this place is a little different since its connected to me.”

“Huh?” Squirrelpaw flicked an ear. “Connected to you?”

Feathertail nodded, still advancing up the hill. “Each spirit is their own, Squirrelpaw. And each has their own path to take once their time in life is over. My path led me to the Tribe of Rushing Water, and since I died on their land…” Feathertail paused as she reached the top of the hill, and her fur began to wisp back in a cool breeze as she overlooked something. Squirrelpaw rose a brow, her heart racing suddenly in a curious drive. She pounced up the path to where Feathertail sat, and her jaw dropped at what she saw.

The hill overlooked a wide, overreaching river that slid between two starlit patches of land. Squirrelpaw blinked in astonishment. The river seemed to be made up of thousands of beaming stars that twinkled a pure blue in the soft ripples of water. A cool, murky scent filled Squirrelpaw’s senses that she soon identified as the scent of the Tribe’s cave. But with it was the wet tang of salt as well as the summery aroma of wet sand and pebbles. They melded together to craft the sweet bite of the sea.

Colours danced in the air, dynamic on the rush of the water. They rushed over the horizon in a gentle drift that sounded familiar to the tide of the waterfall. Dew flashed on blades of grass, casting what looked like more stars into the sky.

“Where we are is the border between Starclan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting. To be honest, I think I got lucky with where I ended up, don’t you?” Feathertail’s chipper laugh bounded into the horizon.

Squirrelpaw could only nod, too spell bounded to speak. It was true. This place was beautiful; beyond Squirrelpaw’s wildest dreams. She could smell the distant traces of prey and hear, like waves in the furthest corners of the light, the scattered, whispery echoes of laughter and smile cast voices.

This place was everything the stories of her elders could have imagined and more. And Feathertail somehow had found herself between two worlds that seemed to accept her, instead of refused by both. Squirrelpaw’s heart swelled. This paradise was just what Feathertail deserved after everything she’d done. At the very least, Squirrelpaw could be happy that her friend was somewhere safe and bright instead of the terrors in the forest.

She would never come back, but Squirrelpaw could let her heart soothe knowing that Feathertail had been rewarded for her sacrifice.

But when she thought of home…

Squirrelpaw’s ears pinned back as illness clawed her again. “But… why didn’t Starclan give us a sign?”

Feathertail sighed, “I’m sorry. I can’t answer that.”

Squirrelpaw gave her a wounded look. “Why?”

“It’s not up to me. I don’t have the power to make those kind of decisions.”

“Then who does?”

“There are many cats Squirrelpaw.” She shrugged sadly, “I’m just not one of them.”

“But what about the forest?” Squirrelpaw exclaimed. “You’ve all seen what’s happened to the forest! The clans are going to break apart if nothing changes! We need Starclan to help us!”

Feathertail’s face grew grave, “There are some cats down there that don’t believe Starclan has any power in the forest anymore.”

Squirrelpaw grit her teeth. That was true. Blackstar had openly declared that the forest had no meaning for the clans anymore. Perhaps it wasn’t too hard to see he didn’t trust Starclan would save them if they hadn’t stopped this destruction at all.

“Is that it then? We can’t get a sign because there are clans that don’t believe what we’re saying?” They had all tried to make them see, but what could a group of Warriors who’d ‘abandoned’ their clans do to persuade a group of angry, starving cats. Did the clans truly have to divide because of the choices of a few leaders?

Feathertail’s muzzle wrinkled, as if she was being held back from saying the truth. Another sigh left her. “Maybe. Perhaps it just wasn’t the time.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “We can’t waste any more time as it is, Feathertail!”

“I’m sorry, Squirrelpaw.” Feathertail’s mew was drenched with sadness. “I would help if I could. I can’t bare the thought of my Clan suffering through this.”

Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but scoff, her tail swiping angrily. “According to Leopardstar, Riverclan has nothing to worry about at all.” The stony look on the leader’s face was nothing but an insult to Squirrelpaw. Did the mouse-brain not understand anything? How could she just look at the chaos around her and just ignore it? How could any leader be so selfish?

Feathertail kept silent, looking aside. A twist of guilt came over Squirrelpaw at bad mouthing her friend’s leader. But… surely Feathertail knew that Leopardstar was going to hurt her clan if she did nothing? She kept quiet herself, waiting for Feathertail to respond.

The silver cat’s eyes looked distant. The sway of her tail told Squirrelpaw how hard she was thinking of what to say; as if carrying its own battle of will with every pulse of muscle. “Leopardstar is a stubborn cat. I can tell you that much myself.”

That was an understatement. Squirrelpaw knew to keep her mouth shut.

Feathertail’s eyes furrowed. The bare hint of anger looked distorted and wrong on the she cat. “I would be the first to admit that Leopardstar has made many terrible choices as a leader.”

Squirrelpaw shrank a little as the meaning dived into her. The rotten story of bone hill crept up her spine. After something like that, Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but wonder if being stuck with Leopardstar as a leader was its own prison for Riverclan.

But Feathertail’s anger didn’t last. On her face, it never could. With a deep breath, her face was as calm as the rivers water once again. “And there was a time when I thought Leopardstar did care more about herself than Riverclan. But not anymore. I know it seems hard to believe, but everything she does is what she thinks would benefit her Clan most of all.”

Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes. Whether it came from her father or Feathertail, she couldn’t let it soften her impression of Leopardstar. “Even if that’s true, Feathertail, it doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“I know.” Feathertail said with a soft laugh. “But I can’t let that ruin the fact that she was my leader.”

Squirrelpaw paused. “Why?” Didn’t Feathertail have the right to judge her leader’s poor decisions?”

Feathertail stared off. Above her the surge of red and blue began to mellow. “After what happened during Tigerstar’s reign, I was angry at her for so long.”

Of course she would be. She’d been betrayed for Starclan’s sake. That wasn’t Feathertail’s fault.

“I won’t lie to you. There were many times when I wished that Leopardstar would just go away for good. Every day in fact.”

At that, Squirrelpaw did freeze. While that kind of resentment was certainly understandable, the idea of Feathertail wishing for any cat to just die was too bizarre. But Squirrelpaw supposed that every cat, no matter how nice, had their limits.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I just hated her, blamed her for giving us up like that. But one day a fox attacked our territory and got a hold of Leopardstar. She told us to run away but I helped save her life.”

“What?” Squirrelpaw struggled to grasp that. A leader had nine lives to lose, while a Warrior only had one. Did Feathertail really risk her own to save a leader she hated, a leader that had allowed a cat to attack her as a kit? “But why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do. And if I ran away, when I knew I could have saved her, that would have been just as wrong as what she did. She may have chosen her own mistakes, but I wasn’t going to do something like that.”

All in all, that answer was just what Squirrelpaw would have expected from Feathertail. Too good for her own good. Saving a cat even though she didn’t forgive her.

It was things like that that made her one of the greatest cats Squirrelpaw ever knew.

Feathertail exhaled, the strain on her brow dimming. “After that happened, she finally came over to me and apologised for what happened.” A light chuckle purred in Feathertail, “That was never something I expected from her.” She paused again.

Squirrelpaw bit her lip. “What did you say?”

Feathertail turned, and her face was as soft as spring moss. “I forgave her.”

The apprentice sighed, more in disbelief than anything. “How?”

“Because when she screamed at me to run away from that fox, I realised who Leopardstar was. She isn’t a bad cat. She cares for her Warriors more than anything.” Her eyes closed as an embarrassed simper waved over her. “She’s just unfortunately a fool of herself, sometimes at the very worst moment. If she thinks her decision can benefit the greater good, she will follow through with it. She’s a hot-head, but she isn’t an awful cat.”

Was that much better? Squirrelpaw hated more than anything that she doubted her friends words, but even if Leopardstar believed she was doing the right thing, it didn’t erase the fact that her foolish decisions were foolish decisions. This was a time where no cat could afford to doubt their only chance of survival. It was hard to feel sorry for a leader instead of the many cats they put in danger.

“I understand what you mean, Feathertail.” Squirrelpaw sighed, resignation clouding her eyes. “But that doesn’t change her decision. Leopardstar doesn’t want to travel with the clans. What does that mean for Riverclan? They didn’t even believe Stormfur! What else can we do?” If Feathertail had any words of wisdom that she could share out of Starclan’s light, Squirrelpaw was desperate to hear it.

Feathertail turned to Squirrelpaw and just smiled. “Leopardstar learnt her mistakes before. I think she’ll soon realise what she needs to do. I trust her.” She began to slowly pad down the hill towards the river.

Squirrelpaw blinked. Was that it? Trust?

She bounded after Feathertail. “Feathertail?” Squirrelpaw exclaimed, “She wasn’t convinced after fourtrees were torn from their roots! She won’t change her mind now!”

“She might.” Feathertail said gently, “I think we both know that what’s happening to the forest isn’t going away anytime soon. Sooner or later, I think Leopardstar will see that Riverclan can’t stay there anymore.”

Squirrelpaw ran her tongue over the inside of her teeth. “But Riverclan hasn’t been affected yet! And even if they are soon, it won’t matter if the other clans have already decided to separate! Shadowclan is already thinking of moving to the Twoleg-place!”

“They haven’t yet.” Feathertail responded, shifting her paw to avoid stepping on a lone flower. Then she stopped where she stood, making her friend pause beside her. “There’s still time, Squirrelpaw. I’m sure that Stormfur and Tawnypelt will do all they can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” She faced Squirrelpaw, gleaming. “And I’m certain that you, Crowpaw and Brambleclaw will do all you can to help as well.”

The bite of those words, of the belief in them, was excruciating. Squirrelpaw slowly looked down, a harsh dread spilling inside her. She had seen Brambleclaw’s defeated face, and it was becoming harder and harder to fight the loss enveloping them all. Especially after…

Squirrelpaw wanted desperately to be the strong cat Feathertail clearly thought she was. But everything was falling apart, including her own beliefs. She hated it, she really did, but she was losing her own will after seeing it drain from each of her friends.

If they were even friends anymore.

It seemed the leaders had taken that choice from them as well.

Each of their faces had been a shell. Nothing reminiscent of the cats Squirrelpaw had fought life and death with. They didn’t sound the same anymore. It was like they were husks for their clans instead of cats that had battled to save them. Their clans didn’t trust them anymore. What chance did they have when they were divided.

She had heard words that her own nightmares hadn’t given her journey mates to speak.

She had said them herself.

“Feathertail, I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.” She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Feathertail at that moment. The imagination of the heartbreak was painful enough. “We can’t go against our leaders. Things aren’t the same anymore.”

Silence.

Squirrelpaw cringed. Now she really couldn’t meet those sad eyes.

“I-I want to help them. I promise I do! B-But…” Her jaw squared, “I don’t know what to do! It’s like the journey didn’t even matter! Tallstar is pressuring my father to leave soon; what am I supposed to do if me and Brambleclaw can’t convince them for more time?”

More silence.

Squirrelpaw’s mouth trembled.

Of course.

There was no answer she’d like.

“I-I don’t even know if the others think we’ll be able to leave together. We-We might have to…” She didn’t know if she could say it.

The feeling of soft paws on her ear made her voice die down. “Feathertail?” Squirrelpaw looked up but a paw kept her still.

“Just a moment.”

The paws were fussing over her ear. Squirrelpaw felt something delicate and smooth brush the outer fur. The pungent waft of honey sent a shiver in Squirrelpaw’s senses. It almost felt like…

Her breath slowed. She knew this feeling. She suddenly felt the urge to cry.

Feathertail proudly sauntered back, admiring her work. “There. It suits you.”

The flower was thin and red, petals tufted together like dandelion fluff. It lay in Squirrelpaw’s ear like it had always been there. She could barely feel it even. But she recognised the weight of a flower. She carried one for a long time.

Cherished times.

Feathertail’s smile thinned. She ushered Squirrelpaw with her tail, reigniting their walk to the river. “Let me ask you something,” The cat cooed. Her voice was devoid of judgement which scared Squirrelpaw all the more. “Do you really believe that the others would let their clans abandon you?”

Squirrelpaw sighed, “Feathertail, they don’t have a-”

“Ignore that.” She prompted, “I want you to answer me that.” She meowed. “Do you, in your heart, really think the others would abandon you?”

Two cold blue eyes burned on the apprentice’s brain.

“Crowpaw said that he would.”

Feathertail let out a soft breath, “Forget what he said. I’m asking if you truly believe that they would?” Squirrelpaw felt Feathertail’s eyes on her as if they were a leader’s. They didn’t blink once, as if they refused to until they got an answer. “If it was their clan that agreed to leave while yours refused, do you think they would just leave you behind?”

Squirrelpaw’s gaze flew up.

If her clan had refused to leave instead?

The idea hadn’t caught her before. It was like she was a fly trapped in an invisible web. She thought of her and Brambleclaw, stuck worrying while Firestar refused to leave their home. She thought of Leopardstar and Blackstar or even Tallstar, content with letting him stay in his stubborn prison. And then she thought of her previous friends, safe in their decision to leave. If it meant their survival, would they truly just abandon a cat they’d travelled beside?

The question should have been made of fire and dark, ready to swarm whatever they could feast on.

But all it left Squirrelpaw with was a hollow breath.

Because whenever she thought of any of those cats turning their backs on them, she didn’t recognise what she saw.

“I… I don’t…” Squirrelpaw spluttered.

“No?” Feathertail offered with a light shake of her whiskers.

Squirrelpaw exhaled, her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “…No.” She said sagely.

“And why do you think that?”

“Because… they just wouldn’t.” She had no reason, just a cracked stone of certainty.

“You trust them?”

Squirrelpaw almost felt offended, “Of course I do!”

“So why don’t you trust that they’ll do everything they can to stop their leaders?”

“That’s… That’s different.”

“Is it?”

Wasn’t it?

“If you trust that they wouldn’t leave you behind, wouldn’t they trust that you wouldn’t leave them behind?”

“We’d never leave them behind!” Squirrelpaw affirmed, “That’s what Firestar is trying to avoid!”

“So if they trust you to do that, don’t you have any faith in them trying to make sure the journey is completed?” Feathertail’s tail gently stroked the underside of Squirrelpaw’s chin. “Otherwise, what would be the point of believing in your clans?”

It was hard to tell why Squirrelpaw felt something inside of Feathertail’s words. It might have been because they came from a Starclan cat, it might have been because they offered a rare chance of hope that Squirrelpaw couldn’t let slip.

Mostly it was because it came from Feathertail.

The cat who had always made her honestly sound so strong.

Squirrelpaw hadn’t realised they’d made it to the river until Feathertail had stopped at the bank. She looked over the edge and gawked. This close, it really did look like there was a horde of small winking stars swimming in the currents like golden tadpoles. She felt a soft touch on her shoulder that she knew was Feathertail’s paw.

“I know how you feel, Squirrelpaw. I saw the meeting.” Her face twisted as she pulled the apprentice a little closer, resting her chin on the soft head. Squirrelpaw shivered, holding in her breath. “It broke my heart to see you all in such pain. I wish there was something I could do.”

Squirrelpaw sank her cheek into the chest morosely, “But you can’t.”

“No, I can’t.” Feathertail nodded, “But you all can. You need to have faith in each other, even if it seems pointless.”

“I… I want to, Feathertail. But…”

“No buts. If you don’t believe in them for a moment, then you’re showing that you don’t trust yourselves. I know it’s hard, but you can’t give up. I won’t either. I believe in Leopardstar the same that I believe in all of you.” Feathertail pulled back, her paws on both of Squirrelpaw’s shoulders. The apprentice met the confident eyes with a lack of breath. “If you don’t have trust, then you don’t have faith, and without faith there’s no hope.” Feathertail’s stare stiffened, “And without hope… what do you have?”

Nothing. Nothing was what you had.

Squirrelpaw stared brokenly at her friend, as if trying to piece together a forgotten memory.

Feathertail sighed, her head lowering, then rising up with a small, but full, smile. “Please Squirrelpaw. Please just trust in them. Tawnypelt, Crowpaw… Stormfur-” Her breath went jagged for a second, but she quickly rebuilt herself. “They need you. More than ever. Please don’t give up on them. Because they wouldn’t give up on you.”

Give up. There were times where Squirrelpaw wouldn’t touch that phrase with a whisker. It made her feel too much. And she knew why that was.

Because the phrase brought nothing good in its wake.

At home, it had become so powerful.

But here, in the light of Feathertail’s pure confidence, Squirrelpaw felt the slightest power to reject it once again. Because even in her coldest moments, she couldn’t imagine those cats ever giving up on each other. They may not believe in themselves, Squirrelpaw hardly felt she could do anything.

But maybe that was why they trusted each other so much?

They placed all their beliefs into their… Friends or not. It meant something.

Squirrelpaw hoped.

It was like Feathertail said, without hope, there wasn’t anything.

Her mouth began to curl into a reluctant, but rewarding smile. “I’ll do my best, Feathertail. I promise.”

She had to try. Because they would do the same for her.

Feathertail wouldn’t waste her hope on nothing. Squirrelpaw would make sure of that.

Feathertail beamed, purring extensively. “Thank you, Squirrelpaw. That’s all I ask.” The two she cats found their gazes drawn to the water again. It was mystifying; watching the maelstrom of colours glitz with a feverish vitality. The beauty of it all gave Squirrelpaw a fresh wash of peace.

“I can’t speak for the others, but I’ll do what I can. For all of us.”

Feathertail stepped back with a light laugh. “I know you will. I have faith in you all.”

Squirrelpaw smiled at the hope in her friend’s voice. She had always been the one to lift their spirits. The one who dreamed for them all.

‘That was my mistake.’

Squirrelpaw thought the voice had come from the water at first. It was too hostile and crooked to git here.

But that was because it came from home.

Squirrelpaw saw her face warp in the water.

Feathertail’s did too.

“Yes.” She said cooly. “That was something else we needed to talk about.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t even question how Feathertail knew what was wrong. She was too sickened to do that. She realised that by seeing everything at the meeting, Feathertail had truly seen ‘eveything’. Including those painful words.

What could Squirrelpaw even say? Crowpaw’s sudden attitude had knocked the wind out of her as well. If Feathertail had heard Crowpaw demean her sacrifice, her beliefs, their journey like that?

It had hurt Squirrelpaw immensely. For a number of reasons.

Feathertail must have had it so much worse. After all she had…

“I really wish you’d told me, Squirrelpaw.”

Squirrelpaw blinked. In the water, Feathertail’s mouth was in a straight line and her eyes were half-lidded. Squirrelpaw looked up at her, a brow raised. “Told you what?”

Feathertail faced her, and her head cocked knowingly. It was the thin, disappointed smile that first made the incredible tremor of complete and utter horror sink into Squirrelpaw’s throat like a weasel’s jaws. Her pupils shrank as she suddenly felt all of her breath sucked out of her. Her throat began to hurt, and she really felt now that she was going to vomit.

Feathertail just sighed, deep, out of her nose. “You know what I mean, Squirrelpaw.”

Oh dear.

Squirrelpaw began to look for some kind of excuse, anything at all. But Feathertail just looked at her so calmly and unjudgmental that it was impossible to form a sentence.

“I- I- I jus- I couldn’t-” She looked up again in a panic, and when it became clear that Feathertail wasn’t going to do anything else apart from crane her head and let her disappointment deepen a little more, Squirrelpaw let her head drop in defeat.

There was nowhere to hide anymore.

Not from Feathertail.

Not from herself.

“How- How did you find out?”

Feathertail’s lips tugged to the side, “I told you. I haven’t left your side once.” She licked her chest, “It gave some time to really notice some things.”

Squirrelpaw covered her face with a forepaw, hissing through her teeth. Was she really that obvious? How pathetic. The paw dropped and she stared dejectedly into the water. “I’m… I’m sorry Feathertail.”

“Oh Squirrelpaw, don’t do that.” Feathertail actually looked annoyed this time. She brushed her face with a paw, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

Squirrelpaw picked her head up, cowed by the frustration but intrigued by the question. “I- Well, because you… liked him? And I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Stop liking him too! Come on, Squirrelpaw, do you really think I’m that shallow?”

Squirrelpaw looked away, biting her lip. She’d already managed to say something wrong. It would only get worse from here. She kept her face ruefully away from Feathertail.

Her ear quivered at a soft sigh. “Squirrelpaw, please look at me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

A pack of stones lay in Squirrelpaw’s stomach. If there was any kindness, they would let her sink into the water like she deserved. It never came so Squirrelpaw was forced to accept her punishment and look back at her judgement.

It just hit Squirrelpaw then that for some reason, Feathertail didn’t cast a shadow onto the ground. “Squirrelpaw,” She said gently, “I’m not upset that you felt the same as me about Crowpaw.”

Squirrelpaw’s whiskers twitched with disbelief. “You’re… not?”

“No. I’m upset because you didn’t think you could tell me about it.” Feathertail’s eyes dimmed a little guiltily, “I’m upset because I didn’t notice how much you were hurting the whole time.”

Every muscle in Squirrelpaw tightened and every instinct and emotion overflowed. “Feathertail… it wasn’t your fault. I- I just never told you.” She looked down again. “I never told anyone. I couldn’t.”

Something tired and pained cast over Feathertail, “I know. That’s one of the things that’s hard to take.” She didn’t stop even when Squirrelpaw’s tail began to shake. “I mean, you were my best friend, Squirrelpaw. I didn’t realise what I was doing when I told you how I felt.”

Squirrelpaw grimaced, “I, uh, kind of figured it out before you told me.” She licked her shoulder, aghast. “Sorry Feathertail, you weren’t really hiding it.”

Feathertail blushed, then her lips parted for a quiet fit of laughter. “Guess I was even less subtle, wasn’t I?”

Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but smile along. “You could say that.”

“I’m sorry. If I’d known that you’d liked him too I would have tried to talk to you about it.” She moved forward, her eyes half closing with a frown. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have talked about it!”

Squirrelpaw looked up with a tight frown, “I- I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? We’re friends aren’t we?”

“Of course!” Squirrelpaw meowed, “That’s why I didn’t say anything!”

Feathertail drew back, a sad look in her expression.

The dismay in Squirrelpaw’s stomach was hard to swallow down. She had kept this hidden for so long, for everyone’s benefit but her own. And here she was, about to reveal it all to her dead best friend. Why did life have to be such a thorn in her tail?

“You liked him, Feathertail. Probably before me. I couldn’t get in the way of that.” The tenderness she looked at Feathertail with was overshadowed by a gruelling dejection. “You’re one of the greatest cats I know, Feathertail. If anyone deserved to be with him, it was you. I didn’t want to make things… harder for anyone if I suddenly got involved.”

She didn’t want to prove that nagging hiss, the one that told her all she did was ruin things for others, right. She didn’t think she could live with that.

“Squirrelpaw.” The pensive glow in Feathertail’s eyes unnerved the apprentice. “That wouldn’t have happened at all. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you. You really kept quiet all this time because you thought you’d upset me?”

Squirrelpaw could only nod. It made sense after all.

“Oh my.” Feathertail murmured. She stepped forward again and Squirrelpaw could see the tired, but honest love in her expression. “Squirrelpaw, I know you just wanted me to be happy. But please, we’re friends. We shouldn’t keep secrets like that from each other. Especially if it was hurting you.”

“It wasn’t hurting me.”

All Feathertail needed to do was stare to show what a terrible lie that was.

Squirrelpaw groaned. “I just… if you two could have been happy together… I think I could have lived with that.” Was her voice breaking at the end of that? She hissed. Why was she so bad at keeping herself together?! She sniffed. “It doesn’t matter now. You heard what he said right? He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Feathertail said it smoothly. Plainly.

That just made Squirrelpaw angry. Impossibly, frustratedly angry.

“Are you kidding me? Yes, he does!”

“I can assure you, he doesn’t.”

Once again. Just plain and simple.

Once more, Squirrelpaw grit her teeth.

A growl left Squirrelpaw’s throat. She couldn’t stop it, even as she found herself glaring at Feathetail’s reflection. It was too much of an effort to look at her like this.

“You weren’t there!” It was a mouse-brained, technically a lie, excuse. But Squirrelpaw wasn’t thinking. All she thought about were his words.

“Yes I was.” Feathertail said softly, she tried to stroke Squirrelpaw’s back with her tail, and succeeded when the ginger cat didn’t find the energy to move. “And I never heard him say I hate you.”

“He might as well have! He said that it was a mistake to think we’d be friends! He said that your sacrifice didn’t matter! What else could he have meant?”

“He did say that didn’t he?” Feathertail said gently, her half-lidded expression finding Squirrelpaw’s squinting scowl. There was a moment where Squirrelpaw accepted this as a reluctant victory.

But then Feathertail spoke on. “But what did you say back to him?”

‘She’d be ashamed of you.’

Squirrelpaw’s heart squeezed as she felt the words run over her mouth like sand. Inside the water, Feathertail’s reflection took on a quiet glance that Squirrelpaw could barely look at. It was only the shame that kept her neck stiff that didn’t take her away.

“He deserved it.”

“In a way, I suppose he did. But I’m not ashamed of him, you know? I could never be ashamed of either of you.”

Squirrelpaw kept quiet.

“It’s just sad; seeing the two of you fight.” Feathertail’s body edged close

“He started it.”

“The Twolegs started it, Squirrelpaw. But I know what you mean, he had no right to say what he said.”

Squirrelpaw wasn’t as pleased by Feathertail taking her side as she thought she would. Mostly because she’d have preferred it if those words hadn’t been said to begin with.

“He acted like we were strangers.” Squirrelpaw’s bitter mew hissed. “I thought he’d changed. But it was just like when we first met.” Her tail lashed with broken-hearted rage. The poison in his snarl, the ferocity in his eyes, she’d seen it before. Her head dipped. Maybe it was her fault for getting her hopes up.

To Squirrelpaw’s ever increasing unease, Feathertail just nodded her head, still empty eyed. “I know. He did really act awful, didn’t he? And you’re right, it did remind me of how he was at the start. He didn’t want to know any of us.”

If Feathertail was a storm, then her words were hail. They battered Squirrelpaw mercilessly in their agreement, making Squirrelpaw squirm and shake in sickness she didn’t fully understand. She didn’t speak.

“So?” Feathertail’s voice rose into a questioning mew. “Why did we ever like him in the first place?”

There, Squirrelpaw stood face to face with her reflection. She felt confused, because in the water, she was surrounded by some kind of glow that took over every patch of her. Above the surface, she was dry inside and out.

But something was making her tremble.

“I mean,” Feathertail continued casually, “We knew at the start that he hated us. So why did we both grow to like him so much?”

The longer Squirrelpaw stared, the more she was sure she was going mad. Because she could swear that the water was changing, twisting, mirroring a stream of visions. At first a black tide rippled, angry and wolfish, sterile and disconnected from anything, it stared with hatred, two blue eyes creasing in the hissing foam.

But Squirrelpaw thought.

Why?

The water changed.

The water seemed to push and pull like a tide, and each time Squirrelpaw saw something new. She watched the black shape turn grey and strangely start to glow. Maybe it was the stars. Maybe not. But regardless, it changed and churned.

“I know why I liked him anyway.” Feathertail’s voice whistled somewhere close. “So how about you? After all, I remember that at the start all the two of you did was fight? Why after all that did you become friends with him?”

Good question.

Squirrelpaw’s head felt like wet moss. She couldn’t think.

The water spoke for her.

She heard a voice anyway, as a flurry of images slipped through the river.

‘I don’t need to take credit from another clan either, Squirrelbreath!’

‘Thank you… What? She derserves it. It was brave.’

‘Any clan would be lucky to have that kind of apprentice.’

‘And you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily.’

‘Yeah… I’d like that.’

‘If you need to talk, we can, you know?’

The next image made Squirrelpaw touch her cheek. She felt the tingle of her fur as her cheek was gently licked.

For a moment she thought that the frantic steam of her breath had made a fog over her eyes, when in reality her eyes had become full of tears. They didn’t drop immediately, just lay obscuring her vision, moulding the scowling dark shape until Squirrelpaw was sure she could see something new and intimate.

A face she knew, that smiled.

Softly, Squirrelpaw smiled back at the vision. “I became friends with him, because I found out who he was.”

Feathertail began to purr, content. “Really?”

“Yes. He acted like a complete mouse-brain at first. And I can honestly say I hated him.” Her head turned from the water, stationary, looking into Feathertail’s chest fluff. “But after a while, we became friends. He was still a mouse-brain.” The two she-cats laughed fleetingly, “But he helped me… a lot. And he was kinder than even he thought he was, I think. He was brave, and funny, and…” Squirrelpaw sniffed. “Good. He was a good cat.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t look up as Feathertail’s paws wrapped themselves around her shoulders, gently letting the smaller cat’s forehead bump against her chest. Feathertail let the cat cry, not flinching, always patting her back with her paw. “Hmm. Sounds like you really do like him?”

Squirrelpaw laughed and cried into the fur. “Yeah. I love him.” Maybe she said that so faintly because of the stupendous relief it gave her to say it out loud. “And now he…”

“Squirrelpaw. I promise you; he doesn’t hate you.”

“But he said-”

“I know what he said. But remember that he’s a mouse-brain.” Feathertail snorted, “Sometimes cats say things they don’t mean when they’re upset.”

Squirrelpaw cringed. Point taken.

“I’m not saying you should forgive what he said. But no matter how he acts, we both know he can’t do this on his own. The same that you or I couldn’t.” Feathertail let her head rest on the apprentice’s neck. “You didn’t give up on him before, I wouldn’t think you would now.”

“It isn’t that easy. The clans are fighting for their lives. How am I supposed to help him, or anyone for Starclan’s sake?” Squirrelpaw sobbed.

The fur pulled away, leaving Squirrelpaw alone for a cold second. Then a placid set of paws came over her eyes, as soft as a mother cradling a kit. Squirrelpaw sniffed again, but her eyes were dry. She blinked. Feathertail sat before her, a strong grin on her jaws.

“You’re a smart cat, Squirrelpaw.” Feathertail meowed. “I know you’ll figure it out.”

All her life, Squirrelpaw had yearned for a cat to believe in her. It was Feathertail that had done that for the first time, and even here, in this mist of stars and doubt, she did the same. A warmth began to beat inside of Squirrelpaw like a second heart.

Feathertail’s paw moved over the flower, adjusting it safely, a trace of sad resignation in her eyes. Squirrelpaw mewed in confusion, then looked around. Her jaw dropped. The mid-air stars had began to glow, bright and shining, making Squirrelpaw begin to squint. The sound of the river began to crash. Fear began to claw Squirrelpaw.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re waking up.”

“What?” No! This wasn’t fair! Squirrelpaw didn’t have the strength to say goodbye again. “No, Feathertail, please!” She lunged forward wrapping her paws around her friend again, her grit teeth and tear soaked eyes let the silver fur absorb them. “Please don’t go! We, all of us, need you!”

The paws tenderly touched the apprentice’s shoulders again. “No. You need each other.” Feathertail’s mew began to fade as the sound of water began to drum into Squirrelpaw’s ears. “Stay safe. I promise I’ll always be watching you all!”

“No!” Squirrelpaw sobbed. “Please! Stay with me just a little longer.”

“You’re strong, Squirrelpaw. Save your clan. Save the others. Look after him.”

Squirrelpaw sobbed until the white of the stars filled her eyes and the roar of the river drowned out the sky. But she was aware of Feathertail’s smile, constant on her cheek. And she felt her ear smooth as if it was being groomed.

When she awoke in the gully, she found that she was in fact receiving a wake up groom from Shrewpaw. He poked her with his paw, calling for her to get up as Firestar was about to announce something important.

Squirrelpaw didn’t respond, even when Shrewpaw and Whitepaw began to ask what was wrong. She touched the fur beside her ear and felt nothing there. Her head dipped low. She might have stayed there the whole morning if it wasn’t for the twitching of her nose.

Her eyes widened, her back fur flaring as her legs stiffened up.

Shrewpaw and Whitepaw cocked their heads in confusion when Squirrelpaw asked them if they smelt what she smelt.

Was that?

She sniffed again.

But the forest was… how did she…

She sniffed again.

Her paw touched her ear.

She sniffed again.

The smell was stronger.

Not so calmly, Squirrelpaw began to smile, and a surge of confidence grappled her chest. Then she bounded past her shell shocked friends out of the gully and into the morning light and the faint scent of honey.

She wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever. And not as long as she knew that someone was watching her, believing in her.

…

By the starlit pool, a lone silver shape sat quietly. She stared at her reflection, contemplating.

“Are you okay?”

The silver cat didn’t need to turn. She could recognise the voice of her mother.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her mother strode to the edge of the river, her mouth fixed into a knowing line.

“You know how it will end for them, right?” The older cat, if she could still be called that in this gleaming afterflife, said. It was better to be honest. It wouldn’t be respectful to her daughter to be anything but. “That he didn’t… return your feelings?”

Her daughter nodded, accepting but reluctant.

Silverstream hummed into the gentle stream. “And how does that make you feel?”

For a long time Feathertail only sat there, silent. She breathed, her eyes hidden from her mother. “Well, there’s definitely a pain in my chest. It isn’t that nice, obviously.”

Silverstream waited.

Feathertail turned, and despite the tears in her eyes, she truly looked overjoyed. “But I’m so happy for them.” She beamed.

Silverstream smiled. “That’s nice.”

#squirrelflight #crowfeather #crowsquirrel #squirrelcrow #Feathertail #Warrior Cats #Warriors #warriors fic #the new prophecy #warriors au #thunderclan #windclan #starclan #i like your laugh

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cakesunflower · 4 years

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Two’s A Party [C.H. One Shot]

A/N: So basically I read this sentence prompt that went “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, something’s wrong with you” and instantly thought of Calum and viola this was born. Funny how I was legit talking to @5sosnsfw last night about how writing smut is so bleh and then I wrote this about 24 hours later. Calum just does it to me, man.

This is written in 2nd person which I rarely ever do in a proper one shot so enjoy it while it lasts LMAO. This is all just smut/situations leading up to it.

It’s only about 4k words so...... Happy reading!

The party had died down around two-thirty in the morning, your apartment engulfed in a pleasant, calm lul as opposed to the enjoyable rowdiness your friends brought with them. Besides, it wasn’t even a party, per se. More so a get together with your closest friends where you watched movies, ate lots of food, played board games, and drank even more alcohol. It was a fun way of winding down from the week and getting ready for the weekend, jobs and other adulting commitments making it difficult for you to see your friends as often as you’d like.

Especially those who didn’t stick around for too long, given their lifestyle, vastly different from your own, had them constantly traveling.

“Are you still going?”

Your eyes flickered away from the TV, which was playing an episode of Vampire Diaries—you weren’t sure why; you vaguely remembered one of your friends wanting to watch an episode just for Ian Somerhalder—and you looked up at Calum emerging from the hallway. He was eyeing the glass of wine you were sipping from, his own eyes a bit glassy from the hits he’d taken, curls ruffled a top his head as he slowly made his way over to you.

He was the last one still at your place, the rest of your friends having climbed into their Ubers after bidding goodnight, and you didn’t mind at all. You loved Calum’s company, sober or otherwise, and you didn’t have to tell him he was welcome to stay over for him to know.

You lowered the glass after swallowing the bittersweet sip, a lazy, tipsied smile gracing your lips. It was your second glass of wine—thought that was after a round of ill advised shots Luke wanted to take and a couple of hits from one of your other friend’s pen. You weren’t drunk, but a pleasant, enjoyable buzz hummed through your veins and tickled your skin. Your head kind of felt heavy on your shoulders, nothing you weren’t used to, but it was a welcome feeling.

“Don’t judge me in my own home,” you responded, watching as Calum snorted as he stepped over you. You were sitting on the ground, on a floor cushion that was softer than your couch, back against it as you absently watched the show with a throw blanket on your lap.

You felt the couch subtly move behind you, hearing Calum grunt gently as he laid down, legs dangling over one side of the arm rest as his head rested on the couch near where yours was as you remained seated. “Why’re you sitting on the floor?” Calum asked, voice raspy and just a little bit muffled due to his cheek pressed against the couch.

You licked your lips, tasting the wine, wondering if you should pour some more as you drawled, “Why are you asking so many questions?”

You knew why, of course. He wasn’t entirely sober, and whether he was drunk or high—especially high—it was when every question that ran through Calum’s mind was voiced. His need to know things always took over, asking, asking, asking. And you were always patient with him, always answering, wanting to do your best to feed his hunger of knowing. That’s how it also worked when you told him about the classes you were currently taking in grad school, and he asked you about the lectures and readings. He couldn’t go back to school like he wanted, not yet anyway, so you let him live vicariously through you. Calum always did the same when you asked about his life on the road, the wanderess in you never silenced.. Give and take, always.

Calum was silent for a few moments, the only sound in your apartment coming from the TV as the show continued on. You watched with slightly hooded eyes, unable to truly focus. At this point, you may be more tired than high. But you wanted to enjoy Calum’s company for as long as you could.

“Can I ask you another question?” he finally spoke up, the lazy drawl in his deep voice enticing. When you hummed in response, Calum asked, “What the fuck is sexual abandonment?”

You let out a groan, throwing your head back, just barely grazing Calum’s side where he lay as you felt and heard him chuckle at your reaction. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as thoughts of your ex flashed through your mind, more annoyed than pained. There was no love lost, but Calum was really blowing her shit right now. “Listen, shut up. I can’t believe I dated someone who used that as a reason to break up,” you huffed, straightening your head with a shake of it. Calum’s chuckles were deep behind you, all too amused, as your face scrunched up at the mere thought of your ex-boyfriend. He really had said he was dumping you because of sexual abandonment. You figured that’s why you’d never date a law student again. Or someone named Greg. You snorted as you raised your glass of wine. “I’m surprised he didn’t sue me.”

That only had Calum laughing harder, your smile growing as you swallowed your wine and looked over your shoulder. He was pressing his face on the couch cushion, shoulders shaking from his raspy laughter, and you could see the crinkles by his eyes as he did so. He was fucking adorable.

You bit your smiling lower lip, forcing yourself to look away from him and back at the TV screen, face scrunching up once again in distaste as you sounded disapprovingly, “Ugh.”

“What?” Calum questioned through a somewhat squeaky and endearing voice as his laughter dissolved into chuckles, taking a breath to calm himself down.

“That,” you answered, pouting at the TV as you watched one of the characters kiss the other’s neck, the recipient of it looking far too much like she was enjoying it. You couldn’t relate. “Not fun. Does absolutely nothing.”

From behind you, you heard Calum let out a disbelieving scoff, and without even looking at him you could hear the frown he wore as he said, “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, something’s wrong with you, doll.”

You finished off your wine with a roll of your eyes, putting the glass on the coffee table and blinking back some focus as you realized you put it a bit too close to the edge and pushed it further to the center of the table. Settling back against the couch, you informed your Australian friend, “No one I’ve ever been with has turned me on by kissing my neck. Either they just suck at it, or something really is wrong with me.”

Calum clicked his tongue in disapproval, and you felt his right arm wind around you, settling across your collarbones as he remained behind you. You enjoyed his warmth, the closeness not unfamiliar, until he shifted and you felt his lips brush along the shell of your ear as he murmured lowly, “They didn’t know what they were doin’. You need someone who does.”

Either you were drunker than you initially thought, or this was starting to take a turn you hadn’t been prepared for. Still, the sound of his husky voice sent a shiver down your spine, stomach flipping excitedly as you played with him for a brief moment, perhaps as a way of testing to see if you were right about the direction this was headed in. “Let me know if you find anyone willing.”

The hand that was wrapped around you was settled near the nape of your neck, throat working when Calum dragged a finger along the side of it in a featherlight touch. “Already have.”

Yeah. This was definitely going where you realized you desperately wanted it to go.

You inhaled deeply, the anticipation suddenly buzzing your veins more than any of the drinks had, biting the inside of your lower lip as Calum hummed, “Come up here, yeah?”

You moved without much thought, getting up from the floor to scoot up to the couch as Calum had moved, the blanket falling to the floor. Without having you face him, he had you settled between his legs, relaxed, hands settling at the juncture of your thighs where the heat of his touch seeped through the thin material of your leggings. Your heart was thundering your chest, in overdrive as you breathed in the scent of his familiar cologne deliciously mixed with the faint scent of weed, feeling Calum sit up behind you as his chest pressed against your back.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, voice all too enticing, “just watch your show.”

It had been challenging to focus on the damn show before; did he really think you’d be able to now?

Still, you did as he said, ridding of any tension built from anticipation as you leaned into his sturdy chest, gaze on the show playing on the TV as you felt the first soft pressure of Calum’s lips. He started on your left side, where your neck met your shoulder, and you reveled in the coincidence of your decision to wear a tank top tonight.

Calum’s movements were slow, purposeful, as he pressed close mouthed kisses, starting a trail leading up the side of your neck, and each touch of his soft lips against your skin had you lightly biting your bottom lip. It was embarrassing how the sensation of his lips already had you realizing that, yeah, this was better than anyone else who’d ever tried this on you.

His hands were on your hips, teasingly sliding to the juncture of your thighs, the brush of his fingers flipping your stomach desirably. You weren’t oblivious to the way your heart was picking up its pace, already starting to find it difficult to focus on a bunch of vampires on the TV screen as Calum’s lips reached the spot where your jaw and neck met. The added sensation of his stubble scratching gently against the previous kissed spots, along with the tickling brush of his curls, had you biting your tongue as you tried to keep your breaths steady.

The wine that buzzed in your veins only heightened everything you were feeling, taking in a soft breath when Calum teased your skin with a nibble. Your eyes fluttered as his kisses trailing down started slowly becoming more intense, more playing with your skin with the use of his teeth and tongue, heart leaping in your throat when he chuckled against you. You felt his deep, quiet laughter in his chest against your back. With a squeeze of your hips, Calum murmured, “I can tell you’re already enjoying this.”

You didn’t want to give in too easily—give into what, you weren’t sure—despite leaning your head back just a little against his shoulder, hooded eyes still on the TV as you breathed, “Only a little.”

Calum, of course, took that as a challenge.

He scoffed lightly, bringing his left hand up to cup your right jaw, turning your face towards his as he lifted his head to look at you. The distance between you two was practically nonexistent, and you wondered if his dark, blown out pupils were because of whatever high he may be riding or because of what he was doing to you. You knew yours damn well had to do with him.

There was a boyish, wicked smirk growing on his lips, his hand warm against your cheek, thumb brushing along your lower lip as he leaned in close. You tried to ignore the way your heart jumped when Calum’s lips brushed against yours, just barely, so close but not entirely, as he whispered arrogantly, “You’re a shit liar.”

And then his head was ducking once more, and this time as his lips trailed to your collarbone, you felt the newfound passion behind his kisses—one that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

The enticing burn of his stubble was soothed by the warm press of his lips, only to be teased unforgivingly with his teeth and tongue as he bit and sucked at your skin, determined to leave marks you both knew you’d wear proudly. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes still on the TV but not at all in focus, head leaned back to willingly give Calum access. Your right hand gripped the edge of the couch, digging into the soft material, while the other had a mind of its own and reached up to bury your fingers in the back of Calum’s head, lost in the strands of his curls.

He took his time with the kisses, never dialing back on the fervor, knowing just how much he was picking up your heart rate as he felt your body react to him. It drove him crazy, hearing the small gasps and sharp inhales you sounded every time he added a new mark to paint your skin with, wondering if you could feel just what you were doing to him, too. You could.

Calum’s hand that was gripping your jaw shifted, just a fraction, enough to allow for his thumb to slip past your lips, grip on your thigh tightened when you, without hesitation, wrapped your lips around the thumb and sucked. “Fuck,” Calum groaned breathily, lips dragging on your skin as you didn’t even try to hide the smirk that threatened to grow.

He kissed another mark he left on you before lifting his head, lips no longer on your skin and thumb no longer in your mouth. Your eyes met his dark ones, his no longer glazed from the weed but solely because of you, barely giving you a chance to let out a breath as Calum used the hand that held your jaw to turn you towards him more, closing the gap as his lips that had been teasing your neck for God knows how long finally met yours in a searing, toe curling kiss.

The two of you moved, lips never leaving one anothers as you turned to straddle Calum where he sat, the TV in the background drowned out by the sounds of your sharp breathing as you kissed, suddenly feeling a bit too constrained by the clothes that you both wore. You felt yourself easily getting lost in the feel of Calum’s lips against yours, working perfectly as the kiss deepened and the tongue that had been teasing your neck effortlessly slid against yours. Your fingers gripped the hem of Calum’s shirt, and he easily got the message as he reached behind to grip the material off his back and lift it off of himself completely, the kiss breaking for a brief moment that you used to take off your own tank top.

You grinned lazily at the sight of his unruly curls, messed up by your own fingers and the act of taking off his shirt, biting down on your lower lip as you noticed Calum watching you watch him. The incredulity of this whole situation wasn’t lost on either of you, but it wasn’t something you wanted to think about. That would come later.

So for now, Calum wrapped his arms around your waist before getting up effortlessly with your legs around him, smirking at the startled exclaim that fell past your lips as Calum lowered you onto your back on the couch, getting on his knees above you. Reaching your hand forward, you gripped the pendant of the necklace he wore, tugging him down to connect your lips once more, mouth craving to slant against his as Calum eagerly returned the kiss. He used one hand to plant by your head to keep himself above you, the fingers of the other digging under the band of your leggings and panties and giving them a quick tug downwards.

You couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips as you helped him in taking off the offending materials, the kiss breaking as he sat up to rid himself of his own pants. Both of your movements weren’t as frenzy as the pace of your heats, taking your time in ridding the clothes despite the pressing urge to once again close the gap between the two of you.

You looked up at Calum, your breathing heavy, as he sat on his knees between your legs, gaze never leaving yours as he rolled on the condom he’d taken out from his wallet. You wondered if his lips once again craved yours, wondered if his felt electric from the kisses shared while yearning for more, admiring the pinkness of his mouth from treating you so well.

There was a heat firing up your body as Calum openly admired you as well, laying bare all for him. Did he also find this turn of events unexpected? Was he also grateful things had taken this path, just like you were? Because fuck it if you never imagined getting to be with him like this, savoring every piece of him for as long as you could.

He leaned down to kiss you again, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his chest press against yours, gasping into his mouth when his finger teased your slick folds. Calum’s lips curled into a smirk, the rasp of his voice chilling as he groaned at your wetness and mused, “No one could’ve turned you on like this except for me, doll.” Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails sensually dragging across his skin as he added another finger into you. “Always remember that.”

As if you could ever forget.

You were lucky that Calum took mercy on you, hearing the whimper you released and he swallowed amidst your kiss, pumping his fingers a few times, dragging them against your walls, admiring your tightness before pulling them out and teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. Being verbal wasn’t something you found yourself capable of, all of the sensations starting from the second Calum had pressed his lips to your neck to now overwhelming you, but you knew Calum and you knew he would wait until you gave him the go ahead.

So you kissed him, tugging at his lower lip with your teeth, the press of his chest against yours syncing your heartbeats, as you begged, “Please, Cal.”

He reveled in the moan you let out as he buried himself inside of you, the kiss breaking as your eyes shut and head tilted back at the sensation of him filling you. Calum dropped his lips to your throat, curls and eyelashes brushing against your skin as he squeezed his own eyes shut at the feel of you around him, snug and right. He cursed under his breath, guttural and blissed, feeling the confirming squeeze you gave his bicep a moment later that allowed him to create a pace that effortlessly drove you both crazy.

One leg on the couch while the foot of the other planted itself on the ground, Calum so easily hit that spot that had your heart jumping and head dizzying. You were overwhelmed by him; by him filling you up so well, by his lips on your throat, by the hand that wasn’t holding him up reaching between the two of you so his thumb could toy with your clit.

Calum lifted his head, taking in the flush of your cheeks and blissed out look in your eyes as you looked up at him through a hooded gaze, and he couldn’t be more entranced if he tried. He smirked breathlessly, nipping at your lower lip, grunts falling past his throat as he praised, “Take me so well, baby. How’s it feel knowin’ only I can get you like this?”

You let out a sharp breath, the urge to feel his lips against you strong as you confirmed breathlessly, “So good,” before kissing him like your life depended on it because, honestly, it felt as though it did.

The familiar coil in the pit of your stomach tightened as Calum kept his pace, thumb still circling your clit, and you knew that Calum knew you well enough at this point. You didn’t realize how well until he urged, “Let go, baby.”

Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you felt yourself do just that, the satisfied, blissed out sounds you let out music to Calum’s ears as his own release soon followed, burying his head in the crook of your neck so you could feel the press of his lips and scratch of his stubble. Even the pendant of his necklace dragging across your skin sent shivers down your spine, the mix of all these heavenly sensations taking over in the best way possible.

Your breathing was labored, as was Calum’s, whimpering softly as he pulled out of you and rid of the condom in the makeshift garbage bag made from one of the empty takeout bags. Calum then picked up the blanket and you lazily shifted over as much as you could towards the back of the couch, letting Calum settle next to you—though you ended up a bit on top of him. Neither of you minded.

You stared up at the ceiling, willing your heart to calm down as you reveled in the warmth of Calum’s bare body against yours in the minimal space your couch offered. The blanket reached up far enough to cover your chest, Calum’s toes just barely peeking out from the other end. He’d propped his head on the armrest, your own laying against his chest as his fingers lightly trailed up and down your arm as his own stayed wrapped around your shoulders. The TV was still on, as was that damned show, though neither of you paid it any attention. How could you, when you’d just done what you did?

Your stomach was still fluttering, lips electric, biting them before breaking the silence between you two. “So I guess nothing was wrong with me. Everyone else just sucked.”

Calum let out a deep chuckle at that as his fingers that had been dancing on your arm trailed over to your neck, brushing against the sensitive spots that were blooming into the bruises he’d intentionally left. Voice a low murmur, the smirk ever present, he responded smugly, “I know.”

You scoffed, lightly smacking his chest with the back of your hand, earning another laugh from him. Reaching your hand up, you took Calum’s that was trailing along your neck and played with his fingers, a thought popping in your head as you bit the inside of your cheek. Watching your fingers play with his, you dared yourself to hum, “Know what I’ve been wondering?”

He allowed you to pull off one of his silver rings before taking it between his fingers and sliding it over your thumb, the only place it’d fit. “What’s that?”

You took a silent breath, preparing yourself as the anticipation started building up without much doing. Tilting your head, you looked up to meet Calum’s curious gaze, his eyebrows quirking at the not-so-innocent smirk tilting at your lips. “If the rumors about your head game are true.”

His eyes darkened and you knew you had his attention—not that you’d ever lost it. And when your smirk widened, biting your lip, Calum’s own wicked one came out to play, already pulling off the blanket to make his way towards your sensitive heat. Your heart jumped, gasping as he got to his knees on the floor and gripped your hips to turn your body towards him, smirking up at you from between your legs as he taunted, “Only one way to find out.”

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @tea4sykes @wildflowergrae

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detectiveupstead · 4 years

Text

Coming Back [Upstead One Shot]

A/N: my little take on what happens after 7x18 “Lines”. Jay is the first person Hailey talks to after Voight tells her of her New York FBI assignment.

He was waiting for her at Molly’s, wondering what was taking her so long to show up. The rest of the team was around him, the buzz of the bar familiar as those who just got off work congregated to the local bar. Jay noticed something off about Hailey during the case, knowing her well enough at this point to pick up on any subtle shift of her demeanor to know something was going on in that quick-thinking head of hers. But she hadn’t told him, probably hoped he didn’t notice. Jay smiled wryly into the lip of his beer bottle, giving an absent shake of his head. She should know better at this point.

Jay glanced towards the table where the rest of the members of Intelligence were, mostly trying to keep Vanessa distracted from the outcome of the case that resulted in her losing a relationship she held close. Jay felt for her, aware of how rough the past few days had been for Vanessa. His gaze slid past the table just as the front door of Molly’s swung open, and he straightened where he sat on the stool at the bar when Hailey walked in.

There was a blankness in her expression as she entered, and Jay’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly as she walked past the table with their team members, returning their greetings with a brief smile but never pausing to stop by them. Instead, her blue eyes met Jay’s green, flashing seriously, and Jay knew immediately something was going on.

As soon as Hailey reached him, she said, “I have to tell you something.” She gestured towards the door, ticking her head towards it, and Jay nodded.

Silently, he got up and followed her, briefly exchanging a confused glance with Kim as he went. He shrugged his jacket back on as they made their way through the busy bar, walking out after letting a few people in. The sidewalk wasn’t busy, cars driving past occasionally on the street Molly’s was located on. Two men stood a few feet away leaning against the building, sharing conversation and cigarettes. The sidewalk was illuminated by the streetlights, and the music and chatter from the bar was muffled as they walked a few feet down the path.

“What’s going on?” Jay asked once they stopped, hands shoving into the pockets of his jacket as the familiar Chicago chill bit at him.

Hailey glanced away from him for a moment, the muscle in her jaw working, and Jay recognized this as her trying to find the right words. His eyebrows drew together, an uneasy knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he waited. Finally, her eyes met his, bright blue even at this time of night. “Voight’s sending me to New York for a few weeks as a loan officer for the FBI. I leave tomorrow.”

She spoke factually, trying to keep her voice monotone and flat, and yet her reluctance to following a direct order seeped through the longer she stared at Jay. He, in turn, looked right back at her, her words taking a moment to process, silently hoping that she was kidding, unable to say anything. Because panic had instantly flared in his head, feeling as though the universe was repeating a cruel joke—and Jay wasn’t sure if he was surprised that this time, it felt a hundred times worse.

His lips parted, yet no words came out, a tight lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. The Chicago weather had nothing to do with the way Jay stood frozen, all too aware of his heart beginning to pick up its pace, the panic slowly but surely increasing and threatening to take over every cell in his body.

History was repeating itself with a twist. He’d already lost one partner to New York—to the FBI. What kind of shit cards was he being dealt with to have another one leave, too, even if it was temporary? Jay knew the situation wasn’t the same. He knew he and Erin were done before she left—knew that leaving was her choice. She wanted to be gone. To leave Chicago. And leave him. So she did, without a word or a goodbye. Gone just like that.

And that had hurt. It hurt so damn much, to the point where Jay started spiraling in a way that frightened him, only allowing himself to get help, to get better, after Voight and Hailey gave him the push he needed. Hailey.

He knew she didn’t want to leave—hell, he could see it in her eyes, swimming with distraught and reluctance and absolute loathing for the assignment she was given. This wasn’t her choice—a difference from when Erin left. Another major difference: Hailey was giving him the respect of letting him know instead of merely disappearing.

Yet, Jay still felt as though he couldn’t quite breathe easily. Like someone had reached into the cavity of his chest, wrapped an iron fist around his heart, and was squeezing until there was nothing left to squeeze. And maybe that was a bit of an overreaction, but it seemed appropriate. Jay was too used to losing people, whether it be of their own doing or to death, but Hailey—she was someone Jay never thought would leave. She was someone he counted on never leaving him, even if the idea of it may seem wishful.

Jay appreciated and respected the partners he’d had in the past, whether it be in the military or as a cop, but Hailey was someone Jay was desperate to have at his side forever. A voice in the back of his mind teased him every time that thought came across—wondering if he meant it in a professional sense or more personal, more intimate. Jay tried his best not to dwell on it too much, not wanting to dig himself into a hole.

Was he even aware the hole had been dug, and he was already a good few feet in?

But now she was going and Jay didn’t get a say in the matter, and it foolishly pissed him the hell off.

“No—what the hell? Not happening,” he scoffed with a shake of his head, refusing to accept what he already knew was a done deal.

Hailey’s expression fell, like she expected him to react this way, eyebrows drawing together in an almost sad frown. “I don’t have a choice, Jay,” she rasped quietly, giving a shake of her head that had her blonde ponytail only slightly swinging. “Voight signed off on it himself.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Jay groaned through a clenched jaw, turning away from Hailey as he ran a hand through his hair. His back was to her, staring out into the parking lot, letting out a few heavy breaths as he tried to calm himself down from the anger mixed with panic running through his veins. He ran his hand down his face before turning to look at Hailey. With a shake of his head, he demanded, “Why the hell is Voight sending you?”

Hailey was silent for a moment, lips pressed together, as if she didn’t want to tell him. But Jay kept staring, green eyes clashing with blue, until she let out a breath, the air fogging in front of her, before admitting, “He says they run things differently there. By the book. Thinks it’ll be a good lesson for me.”

The frown of Jay’s face disappeared, chin lifting as understanding dawned on his features. The uneasy knot in his stomach only tightened, willing his fingers not to curl into tight fists as he looked down at the blonde woman in front of him. In a quiet voice, Jay asked, “This is because of what happened to Darius Walker, isn’t it?”

Hailey’s throat worked, instantly telling Jay that his thought was right, blinking once as she added, “And then some.”

Jay gave a disbelieving shake of his head as he broke their gazes, looking away as his jaw clenched together tightly. Darius Walker’s death was brought on by what Hailey did, talking to those gangbangers who had no problem seeking revenge for their dead brothers. He knew it and Voight knew it. Jay knew, the moment he talked to her after she’d done it, that Hailey was turning towards a road he didn’t want her going down. Ever since her CI Cameron’s death, there was a cloud hanging over Hailey that Jay had been trying to figure out how to get rid of. He certainly hadn’t helped matters when he ended up in the hospital, he knew, and Hailey was crossing lines Jay knew only Voight to cross.

And it terrified Jay, admittedly, to see Hailey like that. She was one of the best detectives he knew, a hell of a cop, and he didn’t want her to lose any of that because of some bad choices. As much as he hated to admit it, Jay saw the motive behind Voight’s decision of sending her to New York. The lines were clear there, no doubt about it, and he understood Voight wanting Hailey to take note of it, to work along with it and bring it back home.

Jay just hated that it had come to this in the first place. Hated that he could’ve helped her, been there for her, more.

“You’re pissed.”

He hadn’t said anything for a few moments, and Hailey uttering those two words reeled Jay back into reality, a sharp huff escaping him as his eyebrows lowered into a glare. “Damn right, I’m pissed. I think I have a right to be, given that my partner just told me she’s leaving.”

So many things—so many things he was pissed about. Deep in his heart, Jay knew this move would prove to be important for Hailey, understood Voight’s reasoning for it. But his chest still felt heavy, weighed down by the ghosts of the past that never seemed to entirely leave him, unable to completely ignore the sinister voice in the back of his head that taunted him with Hailey leaving for good. Away from Chicago. Away from him. He’d recovered from his past heartbreak. But looking at Hailey, at the woman who’d become his partner, his best friend, his confidant—Jay just knew if his fear came to light, this would be a heartbreak he wouldn’t recover from.

Hailey’s eyebrows knitted together, taking a step towards him, eyes never leaving his. She seemed to have read his thoughts, as always. “I’m coming back, Jay,” she reminded him pointedly, her sharp voice contradicting the softness in her blue eyes, desperate for him to believe her. It was enough to get his muscles to relax, to let some of the anger burning his blood to disintegrate. “It’s a temporary assignment, just a couple of weeks. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Despite himself, Jay scoffed, shooting her a flat look. A car drove by, its headlights illuminating Hailey’s face, and something softened in Jay’s chest at the glow of her features. Bright blue eyes glowing with reassurance, and a gentle smile successfully calming him down. With a raise of an eyebrow, he retorted, “You say that like I’m not gonna notice that you’re gone for a few weeks.”

Hailey raised her eyebrows. “You better,” she replied, her light tone cracking the tension. A ghost of a smile curled at her lips as she added, “I gotta have something to come back to.”

Jay’s throat worked at her words, though he still smiled, a warmth spreading through him as he nodded, “I appreciate you telling me, Hailey. You know, before leaving.”

“Of course,” she responded, as if not telling him hadn’t even been a thought that crossed her mind. “We’re partners, and even though I haven’t been completely straight with you, I wasn’t going to leave the state without telling you,” she continued with a gentle laugh.

A wry, almost bitter smile curled at Jay’s lips. Without thinking, he muttered, “You’d be surprised how many people would.”

What did it say about Jay that he felt more pain when people merely walked out of his life on their own accord as opposed to leaving by death, even if slightly?

He looked away as soon as the words slipped past his mouth, teeth clenching together as he focused his gaze on anything but Hailey. It wasn’t as though Jay was embarrassed by what he said—with Hailey, there was no room for that. Being openly vulnerable wasn’t exactly one of his strong suits, but his blonde partner was slowly changing that over the years for the better. And despite moments of morally gray decision making, Jay had a feeling it was mutual.

“I’m not any of those people,” Hailey spoke up, drawing Jay’s attention towards her once more. She looked at him meaningfully, a softness in her beautiful features that always stole Jay’s breath. Hailey was, without a doubt, so effortlessly stunning and if Jay wasn’t so damn good at his job, if he was someone else, he’d probably get distracted by her in the field. It didn’t mean he didn’t try to steal glances at her whenever he could, though. Jay watched as Hailey took a step towards him, gaze never leaving his as she peered up at him. “This is my home. I’m not leaving it. Or you.”

Jay’s heart leaped into his throat as he stared down at Hailey, the truth weighing down her words meaningfully, hanging between them in a silence not even the business of Molly’s could disrupt. And as Jay looked at Hailey, there was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell her—thoughts and feelings he’d been holding in for longer than he’d care to admit. But he was going to wait for when Hailey got back, to tell her when she was finally back home—back with him.

So he swallowed the emotions bubbling up, and instead he smiled, adoring the sight of her own small grin, before asking, “What time’s your flight?”

“9:15 A.M.,” she told him with a slight tilt of her head.

He smirked gently. “I’ll drive you. And I’ll bring coffee.”

Hailey raised her eyebrows, a teasing tilt in her voice as she asked, “You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

Jay gave a serious nod as they both began making their way back into Molly’s. “I’ll be sobbing on the inside.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder as they walked inside, a smirk dancing on her own lips as she approved, “Good.”

He wouldn’t be sobbing, of course. But as soon as Hailey would walk through the terminal gates at the airport, Jay knew he would be counting down the days until he could see her again.

#writing #upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #cpd #chicago pd #chicago p.d.#hailey upton x jay halstead #jay halstead x hailey upton #hailey x jay #jay x hailey #jay halstead one shot #hailey upton one shot #jay halstead fanfic #hailey upton fanfic #jay halstead fic #hailey upton fic

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typicalmidnightsoul · 3 years

Text

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼- Chapter 11

𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣

I am not a victim of my life, what I went through pulled a warrior out of me and it is my greatest honour to be her- Rupi Kaur

IT HAS BEEN SO LONG AND MY LAZY ASS ISTG I AM SO SORRY I APOLOGIZE DEEPLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!! hopefully I will start to update more frequently <3 <3 i LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

Annabeth needed answers. She sat on her prayer mat. The room she was in was made and used only for prayers and readings of the holy book, there roof was able to disappear on command so it could be used to talk to the owner of the skies. Annabeth looked up at the night sky filled with stars and whispered. “Oh Lord of the skies, you see all, you are omniscient, please only you can provide answers to a grandmother wanting to protect her grandchild. Only you.” She picked up the dagger Nesta had gotten from Cassian. A dagger she had kept all these years, she had taken it from Nesta’s armoire. This was the first gift between two mates. The first offering, albeit it was unknown to the both of them but it held a significant meaning. She touched it and instantly went into a trance.

Devlon stood in front of Cassian. “Don’t lie to her Cassian.” “You saw the threat, Devlon.” Cassian’s voice broke. “She is in love with you,” Devlon’s voice was disbelieving. “I know…I know.” “You are going to hand her over to that-to that monster?!” “I don’t own her… she’d never forgive me if I didn’t” his final whisper rang out the vision.

Annabeth was pushed out as a voice said, “Let it be, Mamma.” Annabeth let out a cry, “Addie!! Adelaide…are you here?!!” A figure made of some light stood in front of her. It was Adelaide Archeron’s ghost.

She smiled as her image stuttered a bit the blue glow around her fading.

Annabeth walked forward, “Is it really you Addie?”

Adelaide nodded, her image stuttered again this time more violently, “I can’t stay long Mamma. I-I’ve spent most of my energy protecting Nesta through the transition.”

“That was you..?” Annabeth stepped towards her but a fear in her daughter’s eyes held her back.

“Addie what have you given to be here?”

Adelaide smiled sadly, “My family needed me. I had to do it. I… I can talk to you for a short time only if you need me…But whenever I touch anyone living who I love to protect them with my powers…It pains me…my aura dims.”

Annabeth shook her head at the cruelty. Adelaide had to protect Nesta through her… ‘transition’ as she called it and the only way she could’ve been able to protect a living person was only if she touched them.

She would not let her daughter’s sacrifice go to waste.

“I need answers my love, what should I do?”

Adelaide’s smile died, “You know what you need to do, Mamma. You have been avoiding it because you fear what happened to me will happen to Nesta.”

Annabeth stiffened, “Is it wrong I want to protect my grandchild?”

“Yes. If you never let go then she won’t be able to survive this. You tried to stop the prophecy before and you not only tried to stop the inevitable you were punished…I died and you never found out. Don’t let that happen to Nesta. She grew up alone just keep on reminding her that…I-” a tear slid down her face-“That you are there for her.”

The door opened softly and Vera stepped in, Adelaide smiled at the sight of her mother-in-law.

“Hello Addie, I sensed you were here.”

Adelaide smiled, “Hello Mama Vera.”

Vera smiled sadly, “It’s time isn’t it?”

Adelaide nodded at her and turned to her mother as her image started fading.

“It’s time you told Nesta the truth Mamma.”

“You need to tell her the prophecy.”

The blue glow was the last thing left in the room, the remnants of a person who does not live.

-----------------

6 Months Later

Feyre was expecting the Royal Family of Rask to come to the River Estate. She smiled as she expected Nesta to be in front of the door but there was only a frantic Jonah.

“Nesta is gone.”

Feyre hadn’t seen Nesta since the… outburst in Illyria. But she expected her to be in Rask at the least.

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“Gone…disappeared. Poof.”

“Jonah Astor Archeron you are a mated male, a husband and a father. I do not expect you to use the word ‘Poof’.”

His mate Caroline came up behind him. She turned to Feyre,

“There is an explanation to Nesta’s disappearance.”

“An explanation that no one has told me! Where is she Caro?”

Jonah was exasperated, to say the least. He turned to Feyre,

“Can’t you use your voo doo magic to find her?”

Feyre tried to find words to explain her ‘voo doo’ magic-

“OK FINE! Another person who doesn’t give a shit about Nesta! I’ll just go to Helion or Eris.”

Feyre and Caro both exclaimed at once “HEY”

And Jonah turned around, “What?”

Caro spoke first “we get you’re worried about Nesta… we are too.”

Feyre added, “And I am worried about her…it’s just…if Nesta wants to stay lost to us then she will. We can’t stop that.”

Jonah sneered, “Is that what you told yourself when you exiled a rape survivor to a sexist camp where what a male says goes?”

Feyre felt night flicker behind her as Rhysand appeared, as her whole family did.

Elain said, “Jonah that is not fai-”

Annabeth winnowed next to Jonah.

“Now, now children. Let’s not fight.”

She turned to Feyre as Vera gave a nod and look of heavy approval to Jonah’s comment.

“We need to talk.”

------------

They all sat down as Rhys waved a hand at the book in Annabeth’s hand.

“What is that? Its power is interfering with mine.”

Annabeth smiled “this is the holy book.” Her smile died “It holds a prophecy that holds the destiny of everyone in this room.”

Well straight to the point then. Audrey thought.

The colour drained from everyone’s face.

Vera said, “Nesta asked us to not tell you because and I quote ‘they’ve been through too much with the war’-”

“She did?” Elain asked, astonished.

Vera nodded, “Yes she did but we… well we don’t really care.”

“No!” Annabeth said, “We do care but we feel it is necessary for you to know.”

“Sure.” Vera said under her breath

Annabeth touched the covers of her book.

“Brace yourselves.” Was the only warning as she opened the book and a glow appeared a voice that seemed like time itself spoke.

When the moment comes that rivers run dry, a surrender shall usher forth the return of dragons. Once the sky burns with fire, the banished one shall bring the rise of hope and an age of magic.

When the time comes that lightning strikes twice, a challenge shall bring forth the rise of a new evil

It shall be on the day that rivers run dry, a silver haired woman shall usher forth an age of tranquillity and an age of anarchy. Upon the day the moon turns bright, the accused shall bring forth the return of monsters.

Once what's shrouded is revealed, the lost one shall bring forth the end of peace

Two kingdoms of brutality and riches and culture will join in matrimony and grandeur.

There comes a day when the dark one returns, a broken heart shall bring forth the rise of a kingdom and a shift in power.

Feyre shivered.

“It’s not talking about Nesta is it…?”

“I am afraid it is.”

Jonah let out a breath, “When-when I saw her in the market…she had the under layer of her hair coloured silver. I asked her if she got it dyed but…”

Caro held out her hand squeezing her mate’s,

“That wasn’t a choice baby.”

He looked at her fear shining in her eyes,

“It’s started? My sister…”

Elain let out a jagged breath and turned to Azriel.

“The last line of the prophecy, ‘When the day comes that what's shrouded is revealed,’ do you think that’s the coffin I saw in my dreams?”

Everyone stilled.

Feyre stood, “You’re having more dreams?”

Elain nodded and took a pen and paper from a nearby table.

And wrote ‘ignis caelestis’.She handed it to Vera,

“That is what was written on the side.”Vera’s hands shook as she passed the sheet to Annabeth.

“The celestial fire.” She translated.

Feyre shot a questioning look at Rhys who shook his head. He didn’t know.

Before Feyre could ask a knock broke the silence.

Luna stormed in, Lily and Audrey behind her.

“We found Nesta-“

“Where?!” Vera demanded shooting up.

All colour drained out of Audrey’s face and Feyre noticed the shadows that had settled over the days of searching for Nesta.

“Last we heard she was talking to Helion. She was showing him the scroll of the prophecy.”

Vera smiled and turned to Annabeth, “See Anna. I told you my granddaughter wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

She turned back to Audrey, “Well come on then let’s go.”

“We can’t,” Lily said.

“Helion has shut the golden city. Everyone except him and his ministers and Nesta have been evacuated with immediate effect.”

------------

Cassian slammed the wall. He shouldn’t even have been in Velaris today but after hearing the Rask royal family were coming for dinner he had forced himself to go. The coiling feeling of unease in his gut begged him not to.

He should’ve listened.

And now…God knows what was happening.

A little messenger boy came bustling in as if he had been forced to do send the bad news.

“Um my King, I-I-“

Cassian tried a grim smile, “Can I help you?”

“Um- there have been sightings of the High Lord of Dawn and Autumn and the Princess of Adriata entering the golden city.”

Cassian furrowed his brows, “I- just the princess of Adriata? Not the High Lord? Are you sure of this information?”

“Yes sire.”

At the same time Azriel winnowed into his office Lady Vera at his side, and nodded at the boy.

Cassian knew he had bad news from the look on his face.

“What now?!” He fumed.

Azriel’s eyes were filled with sadness as Vera said.

“Cassian we need you to come with us. Please don’t say no. We need to see your father.”

@mis-lil-red

@wannawriteyouabook

@absolute-dissapointment

@skychild29

@aesthetics-11

@perseusannabeth

#nessian fanfic #nessian #nesta archeron

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calumthoodposts · 4 years

Text

Broken Home | Part 5

Warnings: Vomiting and so much angst it's disgusting.

It was oddly rewarding for Calum as he watched Reyna dig into the bagel that he had bought her. Although he couldn't give himself credit for the progress she had made, he couldn't help but feel that being there for her had given her a slight shove in the right nutritionally-adequate direction.

They sat at one table with Michael and Crystal, while the other two couples sat at the table adjacent to them in the rustic coffee shop. It was an unfamiliar choice of decor as everywhere else seemed to have taken on a modern approach.

The walls were wood and the seating area was pressed against windows at the front of the building. Lightbulbs hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow glow across the tables that had tiny tea candles as centerpieces.

Reyna’s first week with them was arduous. Him, KayKay, or Ash would often wake up to the sound of her retching into the toilet. After most meals, the same would happen and he’d hold her hair in his grasp while his other hand rubbed up and down her bony shoulders. She wasn’t as hesitant to eat in the third week as she was in the first and he felt pride in her for that.

She was listening to what Sierra was saying to her left as she chewed with her hand covering her mouth. Calum was a stranger to every word that was being said but he smiled appropriately when Reyna did, less at the audible content.

“You’re staring mate,” Michael muttered quietly beside him before taking another bite out of his sandwich.

Calum straightened and cleared his throat of nothing, “Just zoning out is all.”

Michael made a disbelieving choking sound and pushed all the food in his mouth to one side before mumbling, "You've always been a shit liar, haven't ya'?"

The dark-haired boy simply dismissed him with a shake of his head and went back to spinning a green plastic food basket on the table with his hand. He tried to listen in on the conversation between the rest of the group, but context clues didn't get him very far so he opted for sitting confusedly while 'zoning out'.

He thought about what they could all do together for the next three weeks that the band was in New York for. Although not much had happened passed their first real night in the city, the time had flown by much too fast. Minutes and hours didn't make a difference to their schedules as they were just patiently waiting for their next interview to swing around.

"She seems a lot happier," Michael spoke again.

Calum shot his eyes up to look at the girl across from him that Michael acted as though wasn't in earshot. She was laughing with Sierra about something and her attention was fully taken by it, her eyes glinting with interest and her body leaned toward Sierra to show she was listening.

"You're the least inconspicuous man I've ever met," Calum warned. Even with the tumultuous babble going on around the table, Michael's voice could still carry its own attention.

"And you're the most?" Michael exclaimed. "Mate, you've been ogling her all morning!"

Calum didn't fight back with a reply, he only lowered his eyes to the basket on the table to avoid drawing attention from the girl in question. She was wearing a gray halter top with dark high-waisted jeans that complimented her frame. Calum was having trouble not staring at her chest, which was pretty adequate considering how small she was in every other area, and he couldn't help but admire her.

The dark hair that framed her face and washed down her body kept him lured in with earnestness and curiosity that he didn't often feel. He was more than content with staring if it meant that he got to occasionally witness the rare toothy-grin she seldom gave.

"Hi, sorry." Calum raised his head to the left where the shy face instantly matched the shy voice.

A girl around their age stood with her phone clasped tightly in her hand–so tight that her knuckles were reddened ivory–and bright red cheeks. She gave all of them a polite smile and remained silent, watching everyone watch her with an almost fearful demeanor as though she would crumble under the intensity of being in the same room as them.

"Hello!" Michael greeted and gave a small wave. This prompted her to continue as if it was the final bit of reassurance that she wasn't imagining them being there, "I just wanted to say I'm a huge fan of you guys."

Ashton let out an adoring whine and he stood up to give her a full-body hug. "That's so sweet. Thank you so much!"

"You guys are my heroes if that doesn't sound too pathetic." She laughed.

"Not at all. What's your name, love?"

"Adrianne," The silver-haired girl responded. "Sierra, I'm also a huge fan. KayKay and Crystal, you both are so gorgeous."

The three girls beamed brightly up at her and responded with 'thank you's'.

"I'm sorry, I don't know your name." Adrianne set her sights on Reyna who was looking the other way until she realized she was being talked to.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Reyna." The raven-haired girl smiled politely and gave a small wave. Her twisting to look at the girl was dorky and awkward and Calum smiled slightly at her expense.

"Are you-" Adrianne trailed off and glanced between the two that sat at the table nearest to her.

"I'm just a friend of the band," Reyna answered quickly. Calum couldn't tell if her urgency was out of dismissive disgust or her being non-confrontational, but he preferred the latter. He'd feel soul-crushing embarrassment if it was due to the fact that she couldn't see him like that, although not a part of him could blame her.

“Ah, well. In that case, it’s so good to meet you too!” Adrianne giggled. Calum furrowed his eyebrows and pondered what case would possibly make it unpleasant to meet Reyna. In the midst of a burning orphanage or in an armed bank robbery wouldn't be pleasant, but the condition of their relationship couldn't possibly change where on the scale of 'good' meeting her was.

It wasn't uncommon for fans to show Calum more attention than the rest of his band. His relationship status being rather dormant like a dead mouse in some shed somewhere for nearly three years while his mates all had their person had, by default, left fewer options for everyone. Calum smiled politely at Adrianne as she spoke to the group, all the while looking at him with a hunger that left little to the imagination.

By the time the silver-haired girl had said goodbye and left the bagel shop, she had successfully slid a piece of paper with ten digits scribbled neatly across it in a not-so muted manner. The scrawl had obviously taken some time, every number formed uniformly to the one prior, and Calum studied it as the conversation ensued around him, none of the boys commenting on it as they left quick glances to Reyna who, much to his chagrin, looked entirely unbothered.

"You gonna call her?"

Calum's gaze trailed over Reyna smoothly, who was leaning with her elbows on the table and her chin in her palms as she grinned at him teasingly, and quirked an eyebrow in an almost challenging manner, "What's it to you, kid?"

"Just tired of watching you brood all the time. It's quite sad, like one of those shelter commercials. The only thing missing is the violin."

Calum stared at her with a chest that felt tight, the feeling like the excitement that was so uncontainable that he couldn't help but grin and tighten his throat to suppress a pathetic squeal that he would never be able to live down. All because she grinned at him with a brightness that emphasized her attention to the obvious irony she tried to highlight.

"Spend a lot of time watchin' me brood?" He replied easily, picking up his coffee and nursing it as he waited on her reply.

"So you aren't denying it?" Reyna confirmed, artfully evading his question. She straightened her back, "Maybe you should call her. It might be good for you."

Calum narrowed his eyes in mock contemplation and looked at the plants lining the wall to his left. It was a predicament in that he could almost say with a profound stoic certainty that what was definitely good for him was already hardly three feet across from him and shared a bed with him more than once, smiling at him like the Cheshire cat in triumph at his wordlessness. He wanted to prove her wrong and dispel her idea that she had, in fact, conjured the remedy to his "brooding", but he just couldn't disprove her and risk extinguishing the glint in her eyes as she peered at him expectantly. So he said nothing, letting her believe that he had some feigned interest in the silver-haired Adrianne, and finished his coffee.

--------

She often felt inextensible guilt late into the night. Reyna knew that as Calum laid beside her facing the closet wall he could feel the bed shake as her body shook with sobs. He was sleeping, this she knew by his soft snores that mixed with her sharp intakes of breath as she tried to calm herself down.

She always tried to hold it in, save these moments for when she was alone in the shower and the water slapping onto the tiles could scream above her whimpers, drowning them out so they couldn't act as an inconvenience to anyone else. Less than half of the time she was successful. Nights like these were the ones that drudged up the most guilt.

The sky was clear and the moon danced on the windows of buildings outside, waltzing in time with the city lights. Everything down below was an orderly chaos, people meandered on the sidewalks in the city that never sleeps chasing the nightlife. It was beautiful chaos that never failed to make her breathing ragged.

The guilt that Aaron couldn't see the sky because he was in a prison cell ate away any appreciation she could have of its beauty. The realization that she had let it drag on for so long and doing jackshit to help herself made her heart heavy. She had missed out on the best years of her life, she feared, for a man who did nothing but hurt her.

Guilt for what she went through. Guilt for what she was putting Calum through. She knew by his slight intake of breath when she had unsuccessfully wallowed silently. His reaction was always the same bittersweet ritual. He'd stretch his limbs out and yawn, before turning over and reaching his long arms around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. He'd snuggle his face into the crook of her neck, his breath fanning over the expanse of her shoulder and collarbones delicately, warming her cold frame endearingly.

His whispers of reassurance only made her cry harder every time. With a gravelly voice, he'd reassure that he was there and that she wasn't going through the night alone. All of these moments brought her the realization that if he was any other person on the planet, she wouldn't be capable of this type of catharsis.

But he was Calum. He was Calum and his arms were what she desperately needed in times like these to keep her from falling apart.

They shifted, her face burying into his bare chest and him wrapped around her shaking shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer. The pair selfishly, unbeknownst to the other, breathed each other in and Calum's fingers clenched the fabric of her clothes.

"I hate how you have to hold me like I might blow away," she whispered, voice hoarse and tired.

His muscles tensed and he groped her frame tighter to him. Reyna knew it was cruel to put him through this. He was a busy man who barely got enough sleep as it was prior to when she kept him awake at night worrying over her feeble sobs that didn't seem to dissipate with how many weeks went by. She thought of how unfair it was for him to have to endure the pain with her when he had nothing to do with it. She imagined his thoughts as griping and irritated, impatiently waiting for her to get over it.

What she couldn't imagine was how his heart felt possibly heavier than hers at the knowledge that his hold on her that was vice-like wasn't to keep her there with him but to go with her when she did. Not once had he ever hushed her cries, he just rubbed her back and urged her to let everything she could out in hopes that it would get her closer to falling asleep with a smile.

--------

She had been ugly crying for what felt like hours until she finally put herself together enough to sit up in the bed that she had only slept in once. The type of cry where your mouth was open but no sound came out, a full breath being impossible to get and you settled for small gasps.

Her closet was still bare and the apartment felt like a communal hotel room that you could share with complete strangers. Almost like uberpool, she somehow trusted them not to murder her until she got to her destination, wherever that destination was for her, even though she couldn't say she entirely minded the brutal prospect of being killed in her sleep at that very moment.

Her throat was dry and scratchy and as she dried her tears and eventually managed to space out her breaths, she stood from her bed and walked to the door. Maybe the fact that her eyes were swollen to a point nearly comparable to anaphylaxis–or because her brain felt hollow–she didn't notice the white light spilling into her room from under the crack in the door.

Calum stood in the bathroom, conveniently placed directly across the hall, and was fiddling with the bandages on his face. When he heard her door open, he looked at her in surprise before it quickly was squashed with concern and apprehension.

He didn't ask what she knew he was itching to and that small act of decency saved her from wanting to pull her own hair out. 'Are you okay' was always the most idiotic thing that had ever come out of Aaron's mouth after she had been crying. He was a lot dumber than he looked and Reyna was grateful Calum wasn't the same way.

"Did I wake you?" He asked instead, as though the light she hadn't noticed under the door had been such a burden, as though her face wasn't red, tear-stained, and raw.

She stared at him like he was a cartoon character brought to life and maybe it was the lack of sleep that left her emotionally limited, but she couldn't hold back the amused giggle that left her lips. His question was an attempt to take the weight off of her, this sweet man who didn't know anything about her was so in tune with her simply because she was human, the complexity of which wasn't that much of an enigma at all.

Her emotional well was dry. The kind of exhaustion she felt was manic, the type that released the wrong emotion in the least opportune setting simply because there weren't any other banks of emotions to draw from.

"Just needed some water," her voice sounded like absolute hell. "Would you like help?"

His fingers were too large to properly grasp the edges of the bandages on his face. They were lifting enough to need to be trimmed, but not enough that it would be an easy task to do by himself. Not that it was easy to do in the first place, her knowing about it all too well.

"I-" Calum started, opening and closing his mouth like a guppy and fiddling with the bandage on his face some more until he gave up, sighing and facing her. "That would be great, actually."

She gave him a soft smile and approached him, studying the butterflies across his face to see what she was working with.

"Can you sit on the toilet?" She requested as she started the tap to wash her hands. He was a fair bit taller than her–fair being inconsiderate as he towered over her like an ent–and she had no premeditated intentions on poking his eyes out with the bulky kitchen scissors.

The proximity had her holding her breath as she moved to in between his legs. Her hand cradled his face as she gently motioned for him to look up slightly and she fiddled gently with the white bandages that were a stark contrast to his brown skin.

"You've been crying."

It wasn't a question, only a bleak observation that had her clearing her throat awkwardly.

"Yeah," she reached for the scissors on the counter and gently peeled back the highest one, "You sanitized these, right?"

He gave her a soft small and reached for the isopropyl on the counter, shaking it in confirmation.

"Good." She whispered and got to work maneuvering around his wounds.

The silence between them was deafening and the only thing that broke it was the snipping of the scissors. He sat with his eyes closed and his head leaned back, giving her an opportunity to really look at him without being fearful of making uncouth eye contact. She frowned at the sight of the green and blue mixing with yellow in his face and the gash underneath the bandages. It was a conscious effort to keep her touch on his light as she didn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain.

Nearing the last bandage, she noticed the small moles on his cheek that created their own miniature constellation, ensuring that his face was as unique as it could possibly be. She watched as his Adam's apple bobbed and clipped the last straggling bandage before letting out a breath and stepping away.

When he opened his brown eyes that had a million hues he met her gaze before she quickly looked away and down to the floor. She didn't want to get lost studying the flecks of color in them or compare their warmth to the piercing green that she was accustomed to. It didn't feel right to her and she felt sick as her mind wandered back to Aaron.

"You'll be good to take them off tomorrow night or the next morning if you move a lot in your sleep. They look like they're healing pretty well." She turned on the tap again and washed the scissors and her hands.

"Where'd you learn to do this stuff?" His curiosity was ever so present and Reyna looked at him as he stood, reveling briefly at the way his hair curled around his ears and at the way his broad shoulders moved forward.

She allowed herself to think fondly of them with a small smile, a comparison to the entire year and a half before "My parents."

The air was heavier somehow. His body language faced her fully while his mind seemed to be somewhere else, the brown irises swimming with contemplation. She wanted to know what was running through his head: what warranted the silence that came after she mentioned her parents that seemed so distant from her now. They were fading memoirs now. Her mother's short, yet demanding stature with black hair and bangs made her look years younger than her father who looked like her exact opposite. Tall, fair-skinned, with eyes that were green and gray and blue.

"Thank you," he spoke with a tone barely louder than the quiet, holding her gaze in the mirror with an expression of sincerity.

"It's really the least I can do."

And he would hear her say this an uncountable amount of times, but he'd never tire of it.

--------

Reyna wasn't very much of a drinker. Occasionally, she would open a bottle of wine or dig the tequila out from under the sink, hidden with Lysol bottles, dish soap that doubled as hand soap, and extra ninety-nine cent sponges. The tequila was always saved for particularly difficult nights and it was in such an inconspicuous place because it was one of the three things she had all to herself. Books and the cleaning supplies were the other two as Aaron would be sooner caught actually attending his NA meetings before he would go anywhere near either of those.

Her first paycheck wasn't huge by any means, but Reyna was proud of it. After putting over half of it in the fund to pay Calum back–which she was afraid she'd never be able to fully achieve–and buying four new books, she also invested in four bottles of wine.

That purchase is what brought her to the kitchen floor at three in the morning, her and KayKay wine drunk and spewing out nonsense stories that had them in that weirdly satisfying limbo somewhere between crying and laughing.

Reyna barely had self-control when it came to sweet things that she could actually ingest and being sat next to a bowl of cookie dough for five minutes because they had forgotten to preheat the oven was a serious test of her willpower.

KayKay, being the wise person she was, suggested that they were celebrating, which didn't require abstinence of any kind, and took the first pinch of cookie dough. That brave first step had Reyna cracking and she indulged herself.

"My dad and I used to bake all the time. His favorite was a tiramisu." KayKay giggled and took another sip, cringing at the taste.

"Was it good?" Reyna inquired while swirling her own drink in the cheap wine glasses she had bought for this occasion.

"God no." KayKay chuckled. "It was awful every time and he couldn't seem to get it right. As a chef? He was an absolute power to be reckoned with. Not so much as a baker." The girl smiled fondly.

"Well, this cookie dough is fucking fantastic so I think we pass as semi-decent bakers," Reyna offered and grabbed a piece of the dough before popping it into her mouth. Not ever being great at proving her point, she gagged when it settled on her tongue. "Not so incredible when mixed with wine."

KayKay cackled at Reyna's facial features all scrunched up and pug-like. Leaning her head against the cupboard, Reyna smiled fondly at the girl who had completely lost it, drunken giggles stumbling from between her cherry lips and eyes screwed shut tightly.

For the first time in a while, she felt fortuitous. The girl next to her was one of the most incredible people she had ever met. Her mind weaved entire stories and poems that were art forms in and of itself, but the pieces she expressed were in a new realm. Reyna was lucky enough to be next to her and sharing space with her, it was only a plus that she was able to actually talk to her and discover more. Her kindness amounted to surpassing astronomically and she was the person that Reyna could consider a friend.

Wonders truly do never cease, Reyna thought.

“Yanno, I dated this guy before Ashton,” KayKay recovered and snatched more cookie dough from the bowl, “I depended on him for absolutely everything and I always felt so guilty about it. My parents raised me to be self-sufficient, but I somehow managed to erase their hard work because of this one guy.”

Reyna nodded along, the story sounding hauntingly familiar, “I knew he wasn’t right for me but I wanted him to be so desperately that I stayed. It caused a huge rift between me and my parents. They weren’t angry or anything, just the most disappointed in me that I’ve ever seen them, and that was somehow so much worse.

“I eventually broke up with him nearly a year after everything and started to reconnect with mom and dad, and then dad got sick.” She poured herself another glass full of wine, finishing off her bottle and taking a large gulp before she continued.

“I hate myself a little less every day, but I can’t help but think about how much time I wasted. Ashton got to meet him before- I just wish it was when he was at his best.” Reyna wrapped her arms around the girl, reveling in an inexplicable way that she was softly smiling while recalling something so terrible. Maybe it was the wine.

“I hate that you had to go through that,” Reyna whispered in her hair.

“Me too. I realized how much I hated depending on a man for happiness and so did my dad, but at one point my dad was that man. He never hurt me and I know I hurt him, but I think dependability can be miraculous if it’s done with the right person at the right time.” KayKay’s smile continued to beam and Reyna knew who she was thinking of without a word needing to be said.

“You guys are good for each other.” The prodigious condition of their relationship was enviable. They were two souls that just clicked, and although Reyna was too cynical to believe in soulmates, they were the closest exemplar.

“How do you feel about Cal?”

Reyna was silent and wide-eyed for a moment, suddenly coming to the realization that she hadn’t drunk as much liquid courage as the other girl had, and threw her head back to finish off her wine before pouring another glass.

“He’s one of the best men I’ve ever met,” she paused and drank more, “And I’m lucky that he sees me as a friend, at least I hope he does.”

“He likes you a lot more than that.”

Reyna shook her head in disbelief. There was absolutely no chance in hell that the man who was more physically appealing than a sculpted god had any interest in her. He was intelligent and witty, and those two things don’t bode well when paired with her. Only broken boys liked broken girls, the ones that sold drugs in alleyways and had multiple black hoodies but only a few pairs of pants. “We’re just friends.”

“No, Rey. Cal and I are just friends. You and I are just friends–"

"Really? I was starting to get my hopes up."

KayKay ignores her comment with an unamused stare, "He doesn’t look at me the way he constantly gawks at you. He doesn’t care about me like he cares about you.” She sat up on her knees with newfound energy, grabbing another ball of cookie dough. “Look, I’ve been around Calum long enough to know when he’s interested in someone. He has never treated anyone the way he treats you. Trust me, Ash and I have tried to set him up with our friends and he just isn’t- it never clicks.”

Reyna stared at the girl and recounted everything she said. She could certainly feel the wine kicking in as her face felt like it was on fire. Mind swirling with speeding thoughts, all of them going on different tangents as she tried to get a grip.

Calum liking her was like winning the Powerball lottery. Not only was his affection more than she could ask for in a single lifetime, but it was also next to impossible to win. She had a better chance of being struck by lightning or having a grand piano dropped on her head, both of which had a larger probability than Calum liking her more than a friend. Wanting what every young heart sought after, she wanted something beautiful to find her beautiful, but she didn't think that something was Calum.

“Alright, I’m gonna put these into balls before we don’t have any dough left to make actual cookies.” Reyna quickly evacuated herself from the hardwood floor and got to work.

Less than half the dough was left so it made about six cookies, which she would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed. She placed them in the oven, her current state making her overly cautious about burning herself, and set a timer. Looking at the girl on the floor with pity, Reyna wobbled over to where KayKay was leaning against the cupboard with her eyes closed.

"You hanging in there?" Reyna smiled sympathetically, finding humor in the blissed-out smile adorning her lips.

She burst into a fit of drunken giggles before opening her eyes into a squint and Reyna knew at that point how insanely drunk she actually was. "I'm amazing."

Reyna smiled and crouched in front of her–albeit, very haphazardly– and placed her hands on KayKay's knees. "Wanna eat these in the morning? It could be a good hangover snack, plus I think we should get you to bed." Hoping to coax the overly happy girl within reason.

"No, I'm having so much fun." She protested petulantly.

"So am I," Reyna stood and got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water before crouching down again, "I have tomorrow and the day after off, we can have more fun then."

"But it's fun now," whinging and throwing her head back in childish refusal, her head came in contact with the cabinet and she mewled a pathetic 'ow'. Reyna watched and cringed knowing it would only add to her headache in the morning.

"Okay, but if you go to sleep you can cuddle with Ashton." Bribing her drunk friend wasn't something she was proud of but she doubted she would remember it anyway. She practically basked that moral gray area.

"You're evil." KayKay narrowed her already-narrowed eyes at her.

"But I'm never wrong. Let's get you to the bathroom to brush your teeth and then get you to bed." Reyna coaxed.

The girl on the floor sighed and closed her eyes in preparation for hauling herself off the floor.

Before long, KayKay breathed and reached her hand out to grasp the countertop but instead grabbed on to the end of the extra baking sheets Reyna had taken out of the oven. Under KayKay's weighted grasp, the pans flipped and, much to Reyna's horror landed on the floor with a loud smack.

"Shit." KayKay groaned at the noise.

In a drunkenly panicked frenzy, Reyna scurried to pick up the pan lying on the floor facedown hopelessly. The damage had already been done, that much being obvious by the curly-haired boy who stood in the hallway entrance shortly after with his eyes squinted sleepily at the bright kitchen lights.

Reyna could feel her cheeks flush, adding on to the rosiness that was elicited from the alcohol. "Sorry," she fumbled with her eyebrows pinched together and hair stuck to her chapstick-coated lips as she held the pan to her chest apologetically, "Were we– we can– did we wake you? Stupid question. We were just– Sorry. Sorry." Reyna stammered pathetically.

"Are you sorry about something? I really couldn't tell." Calum jested, walking further into the kitchen.

Reyna said nothing and did even less than that, holding her breath anxiously as she watched him with blurry eyes. His hair was all over the place, having become his signature look after he slept on it damp from taking a shower just before bed, and his toned torso was on full display for her to eat up like she was starved. She was disappointed that his legs were hidden beneath sweats–the ones she borrowed her second night there– and she had to admit that they looked much better on him.

"Jesus, KayKay," the boy chuckled as he rounded the counter and took in the disheveled girl on the floor, "Need some help?"

"I'm literally fine," KayKay grumbled and attempted to stand and nearly fell right back onto her ass. Reyna placed the pan on the counter, holding out her arms to support her friend before looking at Calum, "Would you? She needs to brush her teeth first."

He, of course, obliged, helping her down the hall and into the bathroom before flicking on the light and putting toothpaste on her toothbrush for her. Reyna remained in the kitchen making piss-poor attempts at grasping onto her cognitive abilities. She stayed in the middle of the floor and sighed out the breath she held, her attraction for the man down the hall increasing like her blood-alcohol levels.

Pushing her crude thoughts to the back of her mind, she grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water before trekking down the hall and meeting the two by KayKay and Ashton's bedroom door. "Drink this, please."

KayKay groaned but acquiesced, grasping the glass and taking small sips. Reyna abandoned them again to grab acetaminophen from the bathroom cabinet and forcing her to take it. Sending her to bed was the easy part, all Reyna had to do was take the glass and open the door, although she watched her until she was safely tucked into Ashton's side.

When she shut the door, she turned to find Calum's gaze fixed on her. She gave him a weird look as she tried desperately to decipher what the look in his eyes meant. His earthy hues held something she'd never seen and instead of staring to figure it out, she took a mental screenshot before walking passed him into the kitchen.

He followed her at a distance, her aware of his piercing gaze digging into her back as she cleaned up the wine glasses and bottles from the floor. When she finally turned, he was much closer than she thought he'd be. Bathed in white light, he did nothing but stare at her from beside the fridge with that impossible-to-understand look in his eye.

"Have fun?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and gestured to the bottle of wine with only a few swigs left in it.

"I did," she felt her face heat up under his scrutiny, "Although I'm sure we're both going to be paying for it tomorrow."

It bothered her how he could be so silent, yet speak so loudly with his body language and facial expressions. She was getting better at speaking his language, but at that moment in time when her head was waltzing with the alcohol in her veins, she hadn't a clue what his smirks and glances meant.

He moved closer, "You seem to be less of a lightweight than I thought."

Her mouth fell open in mock offense and a gasp escaped her, "I'll have you know that I can hold my alcohol really well. At least I'm good at pretending like I can."

Calum smiled and leaned his lower back up against the counter comfortably, an action that had Reyna pouting as the surface easily was level with her waist. His eyes flickered to her pouting lips briefly before dragging back up to hold her gaze steadily, "Kind of wishing you weren't drunk right now."

Reyna cocked her head and grasped her bottle of wine. Putting the cork back into the bottle was never her strong suit and she rarely ever needed to practice that skill since she typically opted for just finishing the bottle, "I'm not drunk, just a little inebriated."

Calum laughed, "Using synonyms won't soften the fact that you're pretty fucked up." He grabbed the neck of the bottle she held close to her for leverage, causing her to look at him once again.

She was desperately trying and desperately failing to avoid all contact with his chocolate orbs but like a magnet, she was stuck in them. Calum worked the cork back into the wine bottle with ease and she admired the way the muscles in his forearms flexed and relaxed at the motion. "Why?"

He didn't answer until he put the bottle into the fridge and let out a breath. "Don't worry about it, Rey. It just slipped out."

"You can't just say that," She whined childishly, her features forming into another pout. "It makes me wonder about it more. Tell me."

"No," Calum shook his head, "Let's just go to bed."

"Drunk me is even more persistent than sober me so we're going to be here until you tell me." Reyna placed her hands on the counter behind her and jumped up onto it. She swung her legs casually and peered around the room, pretending not to care that he was staring at her with narrowed and amused eyes.

"Not a chance," Calum spoke and stood in front of her with his arms out to her, "Let's go."

"Not a chance."

"Reyna," he rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance at her mocking him in a purposely shitty Australian accent. The small amused grin that played on his full lips betrayed him, and Reyna couldn’t help but bite hers to fight back her own smile, "I'm tired." He closed the distance between them, nearly standing in between her legs.

"Absolutely nothing is stopping you from going to bed," slipped from her mouth, while what she was really thinking was something along the lines of, 'Holy fuck this man is breathtaking.'

She admired him through her lashes as he towered over her. His height was a small detail that intimidated her at first, but it soon turned into one of the things she found impossibly sexually appealing about him. His face had since healed and left his skin smoothly flawless. The scruff that dusted along his jaw had excitement bubbling in her stomach as she waited in anticipation for him to say something.

His thick eyebrows were in a straight line as he concentrated on her face in deep contemplation, “You really want to know?”

She swore that his eyes flickered to her lips for a second before flashing back to her eyes. Reyna held her breath, her head spinning from both the alcohol and his proximity to her. His cologne was comforting and familiar, relaxing her effortlessly. She nodded wordlessly.

This time, she knew she hadn’t imagined his gaze flicker to her lips as he held it there for a moment, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek gently. His hand was colder than her flushed face, but somehow still managed to send heat coursing through her entire body. Three of his fingers grazed her neck because of how large they were, sending a sensation like electricity to her heart that was beating wildly in her throat.

She parted her lips as he leaned in closer to her, his nose brushing against hers and his bated breath fanning over her face, “Because I really want to fucking kiss you right now.”

If Reyna held her breath any longer she would pass out. Physically, Calum was an Adonis that had her invariably captivated. What piqued her otherwise repressed deeper attraction to him was his mind; capable of writing lyrics straight from his heart onto a page and caring about perfect strangers, not once taking into consideration what he would get out of it.

Her brown eyes met his before she looked down at his lips, then back up again. She thought it had to be some sick joke; somehow cameras would appear out of the cupboards and she’ll have been crowned the most gullible woman to ever walk the earth.

"I want you to kiss me.”

“You’re drunk,” he breathed, making no attempt to widen the gap between them.

Reyna chewed on the inside of her cheek and contemplated how to get this idiot to kiss her already. She appreciated his self-control and his chivalry that usually made her like him even more, but in that moment it was difficult for her not to throw her head back in frustration.

She knew by the way his eyes skipped between hers that were drinking him up and her lips that he was skeptical. Worry was indisputably formed in the crease of his brow and his nervous gnawing on his bottom lip. He was worried that she wouldn’t remember it or that she would regret it.

She wished more than anything that he could hear her thoughts, how they raced rampantly with fantasies of him in her head. She wished he could be in her head so he could feel the electricity that his hand on her cheek brought, or the security she felt of being trapped in between his body and the counter. The feeling she had was unforgettable and something she had never felt before.

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me.”

His face scrunched up into a happy grin, genuinely relieved by her admittance. Her hands smoothed up his chest and onto his shoulders, one moving to the nape of his neck and pulling his face closer to hers until she finally-finally-felt his pillowy lips on hers. Neither of them moved, testing the waters that had her skin alight.

She was the first to pull him impossibly closer and they moved their lips together. The need to breathe was shoved to the back of their minds and he placed the hand that stabilized him on her waist, gently rubbing her side over her shirt.

Loud fireworks popped off in her head, feeling fuzzy like the smoke that’s left behind in the air. Her legs acted on their own accord as her knees pulled him to her, fervently savoring the feeling of having him like this.

The world was forgotten, so she felt, and all she could sense was him. Her being so deep in the treacherous waters had her nearly jumping out of her skin and clinging to him with a squeal when the timer on the oven bulldozed the moment they were having. Calum laughed and snaked both of his muscular arms around her waist and hugged her to him.

She breathed heavily and laid her forehead on his chest, reveling in the rhythmic rise and fall that assured her that she had actually just kissed him.

With an airy chuckle he smoothed his hand over her hair and down her back, before pulling away to look at her beautiful face, “Your cookies are done.”

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #luke hemmings #luke hemming imagines #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagine #michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer #fanfiction #5sos #5sosfam #sierra deaton #KAYKAY #kaykay blaisdell #Crystal Leigh

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Changing Tides

AO3

...

“ROMAN! Stop!” Logan was screaming at him, as he heard the distant splash in the water, but he didn’t care. Anger unlike anything he’d ever known was swelling in his chest, pure and utter loathing that he pushed into his song, making it so utterly warm and wonderful it was a calculated sort of cruel.

In his song, the man’s ‘wife’ had loved him, given up the sea for him. They raised a beautiful baby boy together, with love, they shared fond, warm memories, happy memories, and then, as his hope and lightness was at it’s peak, Roman ripped it all away, his song going cold and sharp as he forced reality back in, forced him to see what he’d done, forced the pain he’d shoved onto others back at him ten fold, until the man couldn’t stand the grief and plunged himself, helpless into the waters, a vicious sort of satisfaction welling as the man sunk deeper, helpless against his song, against the waves.

“Virgil.” He recoiled, his song shattering on his lips as he gasped in a breath, the music abruptly stopping as he choked on his own voice, shoving it down, silencing it inside himself with monumental effort.

“logan…” he gasped out, shaking as his vision cleared, as the seething hate faded to emptiness in his chest, something in him cracking. “I was going to do it. I was… I couldn’t stop…” He felt a comforting hand on his cheek, and looked up at Logan.

“I know. I’m angry too. I would have lost control as well. But that’s why there’s two of us, to keep each other in check.” Logan swam up and poked his head just above water, seeing a sopping wet drunk sputtering, clinging to the pier, Janus’s boat well out to sea already. “Now, let’s go catch up with Janus. This mission isn’t over, yet.”

Roman nodded, taking a deep breath, following in Logan’s wake as he swam up to the boat, launching himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the main deck.

“I assume you-“ He cut himself off, eyes widening at the state of Janus. He was sitting on the ground, legs stretched in front of him, leaning against the mast. Logan could see patches of red soaking through his dark coat.

“Got it? Yes, I did.” He held up a folded piece of clothing, a tired, triumphant smile on his face. “Tell Roman to be careful with it, won’t you?” Logan took it, slipping back into the water, handing it off to Roman with a short nod, as the larger mer took off at full speed, wake left in his trail. He hopped back on deck with a sigh.

“What happened?” He asked, Janus already removing his shirt so Logan could heal him, wincing as it stuck to the wounds peppered across his torso.

“The fool shot me.”

“Was smart enough to shoot you with something that would actually do damage.” Logan murmured, assessing the injuries with a clinical eye. Janus huffed.

“Keep complimenting him, why don’t you, just leave me to bleed out.”

“You’re worse than Roman, I swear. Stay still, and I’ll be done faster.” Logan rolled his eyes, soft green power lighting up the deck, Janus for once doing his best to do as he was told.

…

The music was jarring. Its discordant chords shrieked and screeched in his ears, like glass scratching and squealing, like nails on a chalkboard. He was being tossed and turned by the waves of sound, clawing at his skull, drowning him in sound, and he opened his mouth to scream, but only a whimper escaped, choking on the water that seemed to fill his lungs, burning with every breath.

“shh, I know, baby. Just keep breathing for me, ok? Just keep hanging in there.” He knew that voice, through all the rocking and roiling turmoil swallowing his senses, he knows that voice, could feel the soft rag dabbing at his forehead, the water doing nothing to soothe the burning heat inside him, the tsunami waves trying to drag him under.

It’s getting so hard, now, to breath. To think. The music was sweeping over him, dragging to the depths, and he gasped for air, but was met with nothing, water filling his lungs as he choked and sputtered and heaved, clawing, flailing, desperate for anything, any relief, any air, there isn’t any air-

Distantly, a note. Soaring and high and sweet. It cut through the rest, not his, not from his own mind, and distantly, he felt himself being lifted, felt sea air on his face, shivering at the sudden cold, starting to lose the final shreds of awareness as he went completely limp.

…

“No, no, no, come on Virgil, come on buddy, we're almost there.” Patton pled, feeling the boy go limp in his arms, barely a breathy wheeze escaping his lips.

“Roman, you have it, please, you have to have it!” he gasped out, letting out a breathy sob as Roman silently held out a sweater.

Without a second thought, he carefully laid Virgil on the sandy beach, shaking so hard he could barely pull the kids arms through the sweater sleeves.

“Please. Come on Virgil. Wake up.” Roman, voice a mere whisper, carefully pushing back Virgil's hair, shaking at the silence from the small human, breath not even rattling his chest anymore.

“No, no, no, nothing's happening, why isn't anything happening?” Patton asked, frantically searching Virgil's face for any sign of life.

“The zipper. Patton, zip up the sweater!” Patton's eyes widened and he fumbled against the fabric, cursing his clumsy fingers for every extra second it took to find the metal and slide it closed.

There was a shining light, for a moment it blinded them both, a distant song filling the air with sweet notes, before vanishing, leaving them looking at Virgil with twin expressions of awe.

His tail was long and slender, sparkling with deep violet scales that gradually lightened until they met his tail. Sensitive, strong, but nearly paper thin fins flared out at either side of the end of his tail, an electric deep pink, each one rippling and shining a thousand different shades in the dim morning light.

“Oh gods, he's gorgeous.” Patton breathed out, Roman opening his mouth to reply, freezing as Virgil made a soft sound, hands curling weakly into the sand, eyes slowly flickering open.

“Ro-roman?” Roman nearly cried at that voice, as small and scared as it was.

“Hey there, stormy night. You… you’re going to be just fine, alright? Just get some more rest, for me.” He murmured, letting a hint of music slip into his voice, a soothing lullaby, that had Virgil drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly.

“now what?” Roman asked, sinking back into the water, eyes drifting back to Virgil, unable to look away from his beautiful, glimmering scales, noticing the ones outlining his eyes for the first time, along with small fins on either side of his neck, flaring slightly in and out with each breath of his gills.

“He needs to stay in the water, for now, at least. He needs the ocean. Take him back to Logan’s?” Patton asked, feeling Virgil’s forehead, letting out a long breath. “His fever’s broke, but he’s gonna be exhausted.”

“Pat… are you sure?” Roman asked, knowing how attached the selkie had already become to Virgil, thinking of him as his own kid. Patton nodded, looking back up at Roman.

“I’ll wait here for Janus and Logan to get back, fill them in. I’ll check on the kiddo later. I know you’ll take care of him, Ro.” Roman nodded, smiling smally as Patton kissed Virgil’s forehead, before backing up, letting Roman carefully scoop up the small merrow.

Instantly, the kid curled against him, tucking his head against the crook of Roman’s elbow, his long tail draping over his other forearm. He stirred slightly before resettling, going limp against him with a small sigh.

“alright, little mer, let’s get you resting.” He murmured softly, shooting Patton one last small smile, before slipping beneath the waves, careful not to buffer Virgil too much in the water, keeping a careful eye on him to make sure his gills kicked into action fine, letting out a low breath when nothing seemed to be wrong and Virgil kept sleeping soundly, as he cruised into Logan’s cave.

He tried to settle the kid down on one of the soft kelp beds, but as soon as he moved to back away, Virgil cried out, clinging weakly to him, his gill fins flaring out in distress.

“ok, ok, I’m sorry, I’m not going anywhere.” He placated quickly, laying down next to Virgil, who instantly snuggled back up to him. he chuckled, careful and gentle as he curled around the merrow, humming softly, watching Virgil sleep peacefully, letting his voice carry wherever it wanted.

…

Soft. He was on something soft, something swaying against his skin. He was warm, too, pleasantly so, not burning up. He snuggled closer to the warmth, yawning, snapping his eyes open as he felt a low rumble.

Instantly, he jerked away, yelping as he shot backwards, something wrong with his legs. He tried to kick and went sprawling, already starting to hyperventilate as simply breathing felt strange, felt wrong, something on either side of his neck moving instead of his lungs, and god, he was drowning again, wasn’t he?

“virgil. Virgil you need to breath. Everything is ok.” Logan tried to placate, and that was wrong too, where was he, how was he here, what was happening?

“can’t. can’t… it won’t… can’t-“ He choked out, black spots exploding through his vision.

“You can. I know it feels different, but you can. Just breathe, in and out.” Logan said softly, taking Virgil’s hands in his, the kid instantly squeezing onto them for dear life. “In and out, Virgil. Nice and slow.” Logan coaxed, relaxing a bit himself as he saw Virgil’s breathing start to even out, though it was still too fast and shallow for his liking.

“what... happened? What… what is this, Logan, what…” Virgil’s gill fins were flared wide in distress, on the verge of panicking again.

“Virgil. You’re ok.” His eyes shot to Roman’s, wide and disbelieving.

“Yeah, you both keep saying that, but I’M BREATHING WATER AND SUDDENLY HAVE A FUCKING TAIL!” He screamed, said tail slapping against the bottom of the cave, ripping his hands from Logan’s and tangling them in his hair, curling in on himself, panic overwhelming him once again.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and recoiled, hissing, the spasm of his tail sending him flying through the water, gasping as it propelled him into a wall, head cracking against it, more spots dancing across his vision at the disoriented pain.

“D-don’t… please… don’t…” he gasped out, shaking, suddenly surrounded by the dimness of the cargo hold, a hand gripping his wrist, pulling him through as he begged, pleaded, for him to let go, please, let go, digging in his heels, screaming as his father took the lid off one of the storage crates and threw him into it, slamming the top back down.

He pounded against the rough wood, but something heavy had been placed atop it. He shifted, laying down, kicking with all his might against the lid, barely even moving it a millimeter. Still, he kept pounding, clawing, kicking, until he was gasping, until he couldn’t anymore, until he was bruised and broken and his voice had given out from screaming, and the darkness was closing in, and there was no room, no space, no air, and it was hot and it was dark, and he was never getting let out of here, his father was going to forget he’d even put him in here, and he was going to die in this stupid wooden box, he was going to suffocate.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hands over his ears, rocking back and forth, the darkness was too much, there was nothing, nothing to keep his mind at bay, nothing to focus on except all of his fears, except everything his mind conjured, phantom touches, eyes, movement, whispers, telling him all the ways he could die here, all the worse things that could be happening, phantom pains flaring to light as he screamed again, pounding the lid, until his nails were ripped to shreds and his knuckles were bleeding, splinters stuck to his palms, heedless of his clothes tearing against the rough wood as he fought for a single breath of fresh air, sweating and suffocating.

“Let me out let me out let ME OUT!” He sobbed, and suddenly there was something warm around him, suddenly he felt movement, suddenly he was no longer stationary, feeling almost as if he were flying, except it wasn’t wind in his hair, quite, something else swaying, rocking him, a gentle humming slowly breaking through, and he gasped in a lungful of air, actual air, salty and cold and shocking, and it broke him out of his flashback with the force of a train collision as he sputtered and gasped and choked on his tears, clinging with all his might to Roman.

It was Roman, Roman was holding him. That’s who was singing softly, rocking him gently, he was cradled in Roman’s hand, and he gave in, slumping weakly as the fight instantly drained out of him, shaking as the adrenaline left him weak and trembling and vision blurred from tears and saltwater and exhaustion.

“hush little baby don’t say a word, mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird…” he let Roman’s voice wash over him, bringing out half memories of his mother’s voice singing the same song, the same melody, rocking him to sleep.

“i’m sorry.” He whispered, feeling Roman’s eyes on him, warm and worried.

“It’s alright, baby boy, it’s perfectly fine, little firefish.” Roman murmured softly, a soothing, musical lilt still tinging his voice. He simply shook his head, breath hitching as he folded tighter against Roman.

“Virgil… did that really happen? Did… he really do that to you?” He was still shaking as he nodded.

“N-not o-often.”

“Even once is too often, little merrow. I should have killed him, I should have kept singing and let him drown.” Roman growled, tail fins flicking in anger.

“What? When did you… Roman, what happened? What… what happened to me?” Roman’s heart was breaking at how small he sounded, how small he was, and scared, and hurt, and yet this small, amazing half human trusted him with all his heart.

“it’s… a little complicated. But you know how Patton has his seal skin? How he can change back and forth?” Virgil nodded. “You’re like that, except instead of a seal, you’re a merperson. If you take off your sweater, you’ll change back.”

Virgil looked down at himself, noticing for the first time the faint purple tinge to his skin, shimmering faintly in the light. If he concentrated, he could feel something over his body, almost like a soft diving suit, and he could feel the zipper, though he couldn’t see it. Weird.

Then his gaze drifted downwards, and his eyes widened as he took in his long, graceful tail, the scales shimmering and sparkling in a mesmerizing pattern as minute shifts of the water caused the reflection to change. It was electric and deep and matched the color his hair and eyes had shifted to. Slowly, he reached out, running his hand down his tail, shivering at the odd feeling of scales against his palm, surprisingly… soft and warm, his fins a bit more rubbery, a lot thinner and more sensitive.

“holy shit…” he whispered, tracing the faint line where scales stopped and flesh began, half believing he must be dreaming, because holy hell, he was a merperson!?

“Besides the panic attack, how are you feeling?” Roman asked softly, and Virgil bit his lip, taking a moment to catalogue himself.

“F-fine. I… I was sick, right? I remember… I remember Patton, and Janus, then it all gets… hazy.” Roman nodded, eyes serious once again.

“You were. We… almost lost you, Virg, you gave us all a run for our money. If you’re feeling better, we can go back to Logan’s place, alright? He can explain this all better than I can. And on the way back, I can teach you how to properly maneuver that kicker of yours, so you stop flying into things. Once you get going, it should be pretty instinctual. Just let your body move and don’t overthink it.” Virgil smiled smally, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Overthinking is kinda what I do, princey.”

“There’s the attitude I was looking for. Shall we?” Roman asked, tilting his head towards the surface, feeling Virgil grip onto him just a bit tighter, and Roman suddenly realized the last time Virgil had been in the ocean, he’d thought he was going to die there. “hey. It’s ok, sea star. I won’t let anything down there hurt you.” Virgil took a deep breath, slipping out of his arms so he was bobbing up and down with the waves, though he still held onto Roman’s fingers, no doubt steeling himself.

“O-ok. I… I trust you, Ro.” And Roman’s heart melted even more at that small admission, sure he would destroy absolutely anything that even looked at Virgil the wrong way. Nothing was going to hurt this kid ever, ever again.

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krispyalpacaduck · 4 years

Text

Music Lessons With The Devil Chapter 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Lucifer x OC fic

Rating: R for language

A/N: I’m starting to lose steam so I hope y’all still enjoy this :). Tag list is open! Let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Weren’t you crippled?” Maze said snidely as I walked up to the bar.

“Nice to see you too, Maze.” I laughed.

“We’re closed.” She said pointedly.

“It was just a shot to the leg. Nothing major.”

Maze looked me up and down. “Too bad.”

“Now, now.” Lucifer said walking up to us. “Be nice. How’s the leg?”

“Eh,” I began, shrugging my shoulders. “Hell will have to wait for me.”

“I beg your pardon?” I’d never seen a more shocked, disbelieving look cross anyone’s face before.

“The Devil has a spot reserved for me.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“It’s just a phrase, Lucifer.” I laughed. He’d referred to himself as the Devil again.

“Yes, I heard what you said. The question is why did you say it?”

“It’s doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters! You don’t walk around saying a phrase like that and not explain yourself!”

“Lots of people do it. I don’t see you Halloween catting over them.” His expression literally looked like one of the Halloween cat decorations with its fur up.

“Would you guys just shut up?” Maze snapped.

“This isn’t over.” He turned to me, pointing his finger. “Did you bring it?” He asked.

I set my pack down on the counter.

“What’s this?” Maze asked, curiously.

I unfolded the pack and pulled back the velvet covering.

“Knives? You throw?”

Lucifer coughed, his eyes wide. “Can she ever…”

“And?” Maze said, uninterested.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve brought her here to throw with you!”

She scoffed then laughed. When she saw Lucifer’s expression, she stopped.

“You’re serious?”

I craned my neck to look at Lucifer. “Told you it would be a waste of time.”

As I started to pack up, her knife came up to my throat. “Wait.”

“Mazikeen!” Lucifer growled.

When she was distracted, I grabbed the dagger, flipped it around in my fingers and then threw it, watching it embed into the wall next to us. She looked at me with an unreadable expression, then said, “I like you.”

Turning to Lucifer, she said, “How did you find out she could throw?”

I cocked my head as I walked to get her dagger out of the wall. “Yes Lucifer, how did you find out?” I smiled really big, a cocky look on my face.

“It was a bit uncalled for, really.” Lucifer said.

“He crashed my college class. I got pissed and threw a letter opener at his head.”

“Damn near hit me in the head! This close!” He said to Maze, his fingers showing how close it was.

Maze high-fived me. Lucifer looked positively betrayed.

“Hey, you brought her to me.” Maze said.

“She’s right you know.” I said.

“Oh, shut up and pour me a drink.” Lucifer sighed.

“You better be careful with this one. She just may best you.” Maze told him.

He scoffed. “Nobody bests the devil.”

Maze leaned in close to him. “I’ll be sure to tell Amenadiel that the next time I see him.”

“Funny girl, aren’t you?” Lucifer said, a tight expression his face. “I’m beginning to think it was a bad idea to bring you two together.”

Maze and I shared a look and rolled our eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were toe to toe with each other. She even showed me a few tricks. We’d been knocking back drinks and I didn’t realize how much we’d been drinking until I stumbled trying to throw.

“Alright. I think that’s it for me.” I said, laughing.

“Hmmm….let’s do one more. We’ll bet this time.”

“Oh?”

“How about a challenge.”

I made a “continue” motion with my hand.

“I’m going to throw this drink umbrella and attempt to knife it to the wall. If I win, you kiss Lucifer.”

I spit out my drink. “What are we? Middle schoolers?” I chided.

“You guys are always eye-fucking each other so I’d thought you’d at least like to kiss first.”

“Hold on a second! I’m never the eye-fucker.” I protested.

Lucifer instantly perked up and moved right next to my face. “Ooohhh. I quite like this bet.”

Thinking of any possible way to get out of it, I just went for the easiest choice. Sighing, I said, “Alright and if you win, I’ll give you $50.”

“Deal.”

Lucifer was watching the throw most intensely than he had the entire time. Maze went first and naturally didn’t miss. As I lined up my shot, I intentionally missed. Not by much. Maze gave a victory cheer and put her hand out. I slapped the money into her palm with a smile on my face.

“Good game.”

Leaning against the bar, I felt Lucifer behind me, his lips almost touching my ear.

“You threw the throw. Didn’t you? I’m hurt.” He whispered.

I hoped I didn’t visibly shiver. Tilting my head back to look at him, I said, “Ancient Chinese secret.”

“Clever little minx.” I saw him lean in, staring at my lips. Just as he got within range, I put my finger on his lips.

“Nope. I lost the bet.”

When I brought my head back up, my vision swam. Holding my head in my hand, I said, “Ooh bad idea.”

“Lightweight.” Maze teased.

“Gravity is a bitch.” I whined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! You coming tonight?” Chloe said, bouncing up to me.

“Nah. I think I drank enough for a while today with Maze.”

She looked confused. “Since when were you two on good graces?”

“Since Lucifer set up a knife throwing appointment at Lux.”

“Huh. Anyway, you should come with us tonight. Lucifer is saying it’s his “rebirth” birthday party. Whatever that means.”

“Dude, I didn’t even attempt to understand him and I’m not about to start now. He had a really weird reaction today when he asked about my leg and I told him that Hell would have to wait for me. It was like he took it as a personal offense that I would even suggest such a thing.”

Chloe laughed. “You’re hardly going to Hell, Is but who knows? Lucifer’s a weird dude.”

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I said, “But seriously, how do you deal with that man? He’s so frustrating.”

She sighed heavily. “I know he is. But he really does lend some interesting insight to my cases and dare I say it, he’s become a friend.”

I bopped my head up and down, throwing my lip out.

“Maze tried to get me to kiss him today.” I blurted out.

“What?!”

“We were throwing knives and she bet me that if I lost to her that I’d have to kiss Lucifer.” I went quiet.

“So! What happened? Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I threw the throw.”

She clicked her tongue. “I bet he didn’t like that.”

“Yeah he put on a good show about it. Even tried to kiss me afterwards and I stopped him.”

“You should give him a chance, Is. He likes you.”

“Right. He likes me like he likes all of the other pretty tails that pack his bar every night.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Come on. At least come with me. Just because.” She was giving me that puppy dog face that I could never resist.

It was my turn to click my tongue. “Alright. You’ve convinced me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dressed in my best rave clothes, I met her at the door. Lucifer had made us VIP holders so we didn’t need to wait in line.

“Well, damn. First time I’ve been VIP of anything.”

“Right?” Chloe agreed.

We sauntered in to find the club already jumping. I was wearing a choker around my neck, a black tube top and white cargo pants and my hair in a high ponytail. Maze saw us and motioned for us to come over. As I looked around the club, I saw Barb hanging all over Lucifer. It was kind of funny but I felt bad for him. She was barely wearing anything and left nothing to the imagination. That was the first time I’d seen him not interested in someone.

Maze poured us two shots, looking me up and down.

“Who is this?”

“Shut up.” I said, laughing.

“Rawr.” She said, making a claw with her hand.

“So…are we going to see a shuffle tonight?” Chloe asked.

I craned my head to look at her from under my eyelids. “Funny.” I said, scrunching my face up.

“We’ll see about that.” She said under her breath.

“What was that.”

“This place is jumping I said.”

“Huh uh. Don’t. Just don’t.”

She put her hand on her chest. “Me? I would never.”

I pointed at her. “I mean it, Chloe.”

I watched Lucifer run behind the bar, popping up to look between the bottles. Maze was looking at him, puzzled.

“What are you doing?” She admonished.

“Just making sure everything is running smoothly.”

“From between the bottles? It’s not like you to run from a human. Let alone a woman.”

“Ugh, she’s unbearable!”

He looked to me.

“You have to help me. It’s Barb…” He says, looking around worriedly. “She won’t leave me alone.”

I bit back a laugh. “But she’s so sweet and she loves when you speak French.” I said in an obnoxious voice.

He gave me a dark look. “Shit. She’s coming up here. Pretend we’re together. Just so she’ll go away.” He hissed.

“No way! Go get one of your flooz-”

Suddenly, he hopped the bar counter and had his arm around my shoulder. He pulled me into him, my hand on his chest. We locked eyes for a quick second before I tried to struggle away.

His grip on my shoulder tightened. I glared daggers up at him in warning.

“Please.” He whispered into my ear.

I growled in response, the pity I’d felt for him earlier taking over.

“Hey! That’s where you went!”

Her face dropped when she saw me looking up at him.

“Thought you said you two weren’t together?” She glared.

He looked down at me, a hurt expression on his face.

“You did?” Complete with puppy dog eyes.

My eye twitched.

“I’m sorry, Barb. It happened quite…suddenly.”

I brought my other hand up and patted him on the back, making sure to put more force into the 3rd pat so it stung, all the while trying to keep a snarl from crossing my face.

“Rude.” He said quietly, his brows furrowed.

I looked up at him with a smile like venom on my face, popping my eyebrow up. I looked around for Chloe. She was gone. Barb folded her arms across her chest, popping her hip out.

“Give us a kiss, then. Go on!”

I paled.

“What?”

“Go on! If you’re together, prove it.” She had a knowing look on her face.

I laughed nervously. I looked up at him, as he looked from me to Barb. I looked back to Barb, digging my nails into his chest. “What is it with people obsessed about us kissing? He’s not really big on personal displays of aff-”

I heard him sigh and then I felt his hands on my cupping my face, turning me to face him. I didn’t have any time to react before his lips were on mine.

I inhaled sharply, my hands popping up. His tongue slid into my mouth like smooth bourbon. He tasted like a slice of Eden. My entire body softened from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I couldn’t deny the effect he was having on me. Slowly the sounds of the club died away as I gave in. His lips were a work of art and he certainly knew how to use them.

I felt him smile against my lips as he felt the change in me. He deepened the kiss, keeping a hand on my face and using the other to wrap around my waist and pull me closer into him. I’d never been kissed so thoroughly in my life. In that single instant, my universe flipped upside down and I could see why women kept coming back and why some lined up to be with him. He dropped the hand on my cheek, fingertips tracing down my neck as he pulled away, sneaking in a kiss right underneath my jaw. I exhaled, my eyes closed, shivering. When I opened my eyes to look at him, he smirked and booped my nose.

We both turned to look at Barb when she scoffed.

“Whatever. Call me when you’re bored of her.”

Lucifer smiled as she walked away, then turned back to me.

“So…that’s that then.” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I had goosebumps all over.

“Was it too much?"

“Just a bit...yeah...”

I was panicking inside. The wall needed to go back up. Fast. I needed a distraction.

Chloe came up next to me, her voice contorted in excitement. I watched Lucifer wink at me, looking mighty pleased with himself as he walked away, mingling in the crowd. I dropped heavily into a bar stool.

“So…. what was that?”

“What was what?” I said, taking small sips of my drink.

She looked at me like, “Seriously?”

“Oh that? That was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“It was to get rid of Barb. She’s been bugging him since we got here. He needed a way to get rid of her.”

“Annnddd he chose you?”

“Don’t look too much into it, Chlo.”

“Didn’t figure you the type to be a bleeding heart.”

“I’m not a complete ice queen. For 0.2 seconds, my pity overran my judgement. I’ve heard stories about Barb and he looked genuinely disinterested as she hung on him so I decided to help a brother out.”

Talking to Chloe helped me to calm down.

“About that distraction...” I said to myself when I heard the beginning of Spooky Scary Skeletons Extended Mix Remix start up and looked at her.

“As usual, you know exactly what I need.” I slapped her lightly on the arm and ran to the dance floor with a bunch of other people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG LIST:

@ayanna-wild @using-our-made-up-names

#lucifer x oc #lucifer morningstar #music

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Blue Skies (Woozi/Jihoon Lee)

Genre: Supernatural, Crack, Fluff, Crossover, Romance ☁

Word Count: 2,598 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Jihoon ☁

World: Seventeen & NCT ☁

Prompt: “I’m too pale for this.”

Author’s Note: This was heavily inspired by a story that @prettywordsyouleft told me as well as that one episode of Bleach where they go a beach trip. This fic is dedicated to Sem and Chelle♥

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It was the beginning of June, a time for building bonds and having fun. On one particularly hot day, you found yourself at the beach alongside a large group of friends and your lovely boyfriend. The day started out pretty normal.

Around noon, your boyfriend called you up and announced that Seventeen would be going to the beach in an hour. He didn’t sound pleased at this at all, thinking of a thousand and one ways he’d rather spend the day. Jihoon was a workaholic by nature and he’d prefer sitting in the studio working on a new song rather than sitting on the hot sand. Although you preferred summer over winter, you weren’t fond of being burnt to a crisp under the sun, but if all your friends were going, you knew you’d regret not meeting up with them. It had been a few days since you last saw your boyfriend and several weeks since you had seen your good friends, Chelle and Sem.

Thirty minutes after his phone call, a van pulled up in front of your house, driven by one of Seventeen’s managers. You knew it was only one of several vehicles considering the size of the group. Minghao was sitting up front with Mingyu and Seungkwan taking the second row of seats. Vernon and Jihoon were in the back, leaving a spot for you between them.

After getting assaulted with hugs by Seungkwan and Minghao, you settled into your seat and their manager started toward the beach. Even with the A/C on, the van was warm, but you briefly wondered if the two bodies on either side of you had anything to do with that.

Jihoon shifted, resting his head on your shoulder as his hand found yours, fingers lacing together. With a smile, you pecked his forehead.

A bright flash filled your vision as Seungkwan snapped a picture of you both, cooing like he was watching a novella. Jihoon glared at him but muttered under his breath for him to forward the picture.

“We’re here!” The van pulled into the packed parking lot and you felt yourself frowning. There were so many people there that you were starting to feel anxious.

Jihoon squeezed your hand, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Having such an amazing man by your side was certainly helpful, but it didn’t erase the anxiety completely. Something just felt off and your momma had always taught you to listen to your gut.

You helped the boys carry their items as they searched for the rest of the group, weaving in between families and groups of teenagers. They were at the far end of the beach, which was a bit less crowded but still decently filled with people.

The sky was as blue as the water, not a single cloud around to stop the sun from beating down upon the earth. You could feel the rays penetrating your skin. ’I’m far too pale for this,’ you thought, resisting the urge to sigh as you rubbed your arms.

Jihoon plopped down onto the towel as soon as you placed it over the sand, arms folded behind his head as he closed his eyes. You chuckled at him, pecking his cheek. He may not be happy about being away from work, but at least he could use this time to get some rest.

Chelle and Sem pulled you into a hug when they saw you, happy to catch up over the happenings of the past few weeks. It always felt refreshing talking to them. They energized you and helped you relax despite the stressful environment of being around so many strangers.

Hoshi came up behind Chelle, his arm around her waist as he greeted you with a smile. You didn’t miss how her cheeks dusted with pink. “Who’s up for some volleyball?”

“Sorry, I’m waiting to enter the sandcastle contest. It’s starting soon.” Sem declined the offer.

“I’m just un-athletic.” You shrugged, sticking your tongue out at Jihoon when he laughed.

You parted ways with them, promising to meet up later in the evening. “I’m thirsty, wanna come with me to get something?”

In response, he held his arms out, wanting you to pull him to his feet. Jihoon wasn’t the thinnest person in the world, but his short stature and slim body meant he wasn’t very heavy. Or perhaps you were just stronger than average.

You pulled him up with ease and he thanked you with a smile, lacing your hands together as you walked towards the drink bar. The seating area was covered by a roof to block the sun, but there were no walls, leaving it open. The actual bar where the drinks are made was a small shack made of dark oak wood.

“Can you get me some lemonade? I’ll grab us a table.” Jihoon offered and you nodded, watching as he picked a table at the front, right next to the support beam.

Most of the customers ordered their drinks and returned to their groups, but several decided to hang out under the roof, allowing the area to buzz lightly with conversation and laughter. The customer in front of you got her order and you stepped forward, pulling out some cash from your wallet.

“Can I take your order?”

Why did that voice sound so familiar? You looked up, meeting the soft brown eyes of the one and only Mark Lee. He smiled brightly when he realized it was you.

“Ah, hello Y/N!”

“Mark? What are you doing here?”

“The owner’s son didn’t show up for his shift and he desperately needed someone to fill in. I was happy to help, plus I get free watermelon!”

You chuckled at his excitement. “I meant why you’re here at the beach.”

“Doyoung hyung wanted to see Sem, so he begged our manager until he finally agreed. The rest of NCT is here too, somewhere.”

The older woman behind you cleared her throat rudely, glaring at the both of you.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out for them. I’d like to order a lemonade and a coke, please. Both medium.”

He took the money with a smile, not affected by the woman’s rudeness. “Coming right up!”

You stepped to the side as you waited for your drinks, catching Jihoon’s gaze as he scanned the room. He smiled at you softly and you felt your heart skip a beat.

Throughout your years of life, you had dated many different people, always on the search for your own true love. You were a hopeless romantic and just wanted to find your soulmate, but none of the relationships ever lasted more than a few weeks. They just weren’t the right fit for you, despite how lovely they actually were.

You were twenty years old when you first found Seventeen on YouTube and you instantly fell in love. Their songs never failed to make you smile and you loved how talented and hard-working the members were. They had great chemistry that warmed your heart and drowned you in feels. It was easy to choose your bias in the group – from day one, Jihoon had caught your eye, demanding your attention. You’d always have to watch their music videos multiple times because you’d find yourself focused solely on him and not the content itself. He was gorgeous, his personality was great, he was hardworking, talented and clearly cared deeply for the other members.

In your eyes, he was absolutely perfect.

A year and a half later, you learned that Chelle was dating Soonyoung, one of Seventeen’s many members. Knowing about your crush on the short boy, she offered to introduce you to the group, to which you nervously but excitedly said yes.

It had been like a fairytale, honestly. As soon as you entered the room, your eyes snapped to him without having to search. His gaze met yours and it felt like everyone else vanished. The room had gone silent and he was the only thing you could focus on.

Jihoon had always been the type of person that didn’t believe in love at first sight. When it came to soul mates, he neither believed nor disbelieved in it – he simply never gave it any thought. But on that day, he learned that he had been very much wrong. The rest is history.

Even after nearly two years of being together, you still felt like you were falling in love with him all over again every time your eyes met or when he smiled at you so softly. If you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up.

“Y/N~” A cold drink was pressed against your cheek and you startled, whipping around to face a grinning Haechan as he leaned over the counter.

You returned the smile as you took the two plastic cups. “Couldn’t resist helping, huh?”

“What can I say, I’m an angel~”

“I need two pink lemonades and a sweet tea!”

“On it!” Haechan called, sending you a wink before getting back to work.

You went to sit across from Jihoon but he gently grabbed your arm, guiding you onto the metal chair beside him.

“The only good thing about this trip is I get to be with you.” He murmured into your ear, pressing his soft lips below your jawline.

Butterflies erupted in your belly and you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your throat. “Things have been so busy lately, we haven’t had much time together.”

He hummed when your fingers slid through his blonde hair, gently caressing his scalp. “We could always go somewhere a little more private.”

“Like where?” You breathed out. “Everywhere is crowded.”

His hand rested on your thigh, hot breath fanning across your neck as he spoke in a low baritone. “I’m sure I can find a place.”

Before you could respond, a terrified scream pierced through the air, making both of you tense up. “What the hell was that?”

Jihoon stood, eyes narrowing at the expanse of beach. “I don’t know.”

More screams filled the air as people started to run away from the opposite end of the beach. Dread filled you as you realized something important – that’s the direction Soonyoung and Chelle had gone! Without a second of hesitation, you bolted in the direction of the screams, ignoring Jihoon’s frantic calls.

What you found made your eyes widen in shock.

Close to shore yet not quite on land was a giant octopus, towering over you. Its tentacles were swinging wildly through the air, smashing against the sand as they attempted to grab the last of the fleeing beachgoers.

“Y/N!” A terrified yell of your name and your eyes snapped up, landing on Chelle. One of the tentacles was wrapped tightly around her body, swinging her through the air. Another had latched tightly onto Soonyoung, holding him upside down as he beat it with his fist. “Run away! It’s dangerous!”

Your eyes darted around the beach, looking for something you could use as a weapon. Jihoon finally caught up to you, taking a second to catch his breath.

“Here,” he held out his hand, revealing a sheathed sword.

“Where did you – ”

“That’s not important. We have to help them.” He met your eyes and his determination and courage transferred to you. You nodded, pulling the blade from its sheath and steeling your resolve. A tentacle launched towards you but you managed to sidestep it, using the momentum to leap onto it. With a war cry fit for an anime, you stabbed the sword into its flesh before taking off, forcing the blade to split the tentacle in two.

The beast roared in pain, the swings getting more aggressive and harder to dodge. It swung around, slamming into the metal and forcing you backward, your bare feet digging into the hot sand. You struggled, using all of your might to push back, but the tentacle didn’t move an inch – you were stuck in a deadlock.

Jihoon cried out as he ran towards you, slicing through the tentacle before it could break your defenses. The sword he held was identical to your own.

“I… I don’t think I’m strong enough to defeat it, Jihoon.”

He set the blade down, gently cupping your face. “You’re stronger than you could ever imagine, love.” He leaned in to kiss you but he violently jerked away by the monster.

“Jihoon!” Your eyes jumped between your three friends as they struggled against their binds. You didn’t know what to do. Were you strong enough?

’You must believe in yourself, Y/N!’

“Sem?”

A corporeal Sem appeared beside you, smiling as her hand rested over your own which was gripping the blade tightly. “I will lend you my power, but it’s useless if you don’t believe in yourself.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes tightly, ’I can do this. I WILL do this. I’ll defeat this beast and rescue my friends!’

Sem’s body broke into particles that the sword absorbed. Your body started to glow the same ethereal blue that hers had and you felt your power level rising. You could feel it, the energy coursing through your veins. With one final yell, you took off at full speed, leaping into the air with the sword raised above your head.

“LET MY FRIENDS GO!!” You screamed, bringing the sword down with all your might. The blade sliced the creature down the middle and it jiggled for a few seconds before expanding. It’s skin burst, sending green goo flying everywhere. The tentacles exploded one by one, sending your friends falling to the Earth below.

Jihoon did a flip, landing on his feet. Soonyoung tried to mimic it but belly-flopped the sand, Chelle falling on top of him. Sem materialized out of the sword, rushing to check on her best friend.

With a relieved sigh, you fell to the ground, looking up at the blue sky. Jihoon plopped down beside you before throwing his body over yours. You would have chuckled if not for the foul-smelling goo that covered you both.

“I’m so proud of you, baby girl.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. “I knew you could do it.”

Your cheeks tinted, fingers curling around the hem of his swim trunks. “I couldn’t have done it without you guys. All of you gave me the strength I needed.”

He smirked, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “In that case, I think I deserve a reward, don’t you?”

You leaned up to press your lips against his but he pulled back, suddenly chuckling in an evil manner. “Umm, Jihoon, what’s wro – ”

His eyes started to glow a neon green as his laughter grew in volume.

“Get away from him!” Sem cried. “He’s been infected!”

Before you could react, his hand covered your eyes and everything went black.

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With a yelp, you sprung up in bed, breathing heavily as you frantically patted yourself down – there was no trace of the green goo.

Jihoon groaned from beside you, still half asleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I had a weird dream…” You muttered, resting a hand on your sweaty forehead.

He reached up, throwing his arm across your chest and pulling you back down against the satin sheets. His face nuzzled in your neck, his leg swinging over your own. “I told you not to watch anime before bed.”

“Right…” Although your body relaxed, you couldn’t help but wonder why the dream had felt so vivid, so real.

Little did you know, Sem and Chelle had experienced the exact same dream.

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ziracona · 4 years

Text

Anybody who wants, enjoy this part of a reject draft for A Lullaby for the Dark, but it’s the version where the Entity said Anna rights. (below the cut. chunk happens after Min is gone but pre-Entity)

Quentin tried to struggle out of her arms and she fought to keep him, not expecting that from him with as much effort as he was putting in this time and stumbling over herself a little bit. He made it onto his feet, her still with an arm around his back, and another closed around his forearm, and he help up his hand, palm out, shaking his head at her.

“Cahveentyin, безопасный,” she pleaded, “Cпрятать Вы. Все нормально.”

“You have to let me go,” said Quentin, just as pleadingly, holding her eyes through the mask, “If you want me to be okay, you have to let me go back.”

“Остаться—Cahveentyin нормально,” said Anna desperately, trying pick him back up.

“Нет!” said Quentin, a lot more definitively, trying to jerk his arm free.

“Почему?” asked the Huntress, upset and trying not to let go, “Остаться дома.”

There was a flicker of something above them, and a strange feeling in the air then. It was funny—Nea had never actually felt that before, she didn’t think, but somehow she knew what it was. And not because of things Philip had said, or because of how the basement had always felt, or anything else that had ever been close to it—it was because there was nothing else that could feel like that, and she was sure of it. Fuck, thought Nea desperately. “Quentin!” she shouted, sprinting the five feet to his side and going to rip his arm free.

He looked up too—probably felt it too, she thought. He had too. And so did the Huntress. She let go of Quintin instantly and shoved him behind her and towards the nearest scrap of brush, calling, “Cпрятать!” after him with urgency, and Nea didn’t know what that meant, but she was pretty sure it meant either hide, or run.

And they did. As soon as he was down, Nea had his arm, and they tore off together for the brush Anna had indicated, and as soon as they were close, Nea just dropped and hit the ground, dragging him with her under the bushes.

Breathing hard, Nea looked up through the leaves, Quentin beside her in the dirt. The Huntress was a few paces off, watching them with concern, and then she turned away and the sky opened up.

She heard Quentin’s breath catch beside her.

Nea had never felt something like this before. Back in that old asylum, hearing the knock at the door that was coming for her, and not being able to run from it, Nea had been scared, but this was different. It was overpowering. Like if your body had the setting in video games where you’d see a boss high above your level with skulls beside its name as an emotional setting. She literally couldn’t move. The fear, the thickness in the air, it was so strong. There was no fight, no flight. Just the urge to cower, to hide, to pray it would go away and to hold your breath and not look. And realizing she couldn’t move, Nea tried. The second the thought, ‘I’m too scared to run,’ hit her, Nea fought it, and tried to get up, just a little, just to see if she could, and she couldn’t, and she started to panic. This wasn’t something she had to deal with very much, or for very long, here in the realm, and she wasn’t used to it. This kind of thing to her wasn’t like it had been with Quentin, lashing out and fighting. The fear that had lived in her after being chained up and killed slowly in a basement took hold in her chest and her body went back there, assuming the helplessness it had had before, locking up, giving up, and she just wanted to shut her eyes and shake—shut everything out—stop thinking, and stop being, until it was over.

“Quentin,” she tried to whisper, remembering she wasn’t alone, but she couldn’t get it out, and he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Anna, at the sky. She tried to reach out a little, find his hand or his arm, touch him so he would look, before she couldn’t fight the urge to shut her eyes and stop moving, and she found skin and tapped a finger with her pinky, and Quentin looked at her, worried and horrified, and then he saw the look on her face and she saw him get it. He nodded at her wordlessly and slid an arm over her back, pulling her closer to him, half under him, sheltered, and she closed her eyes, one of his hands around hers, trying to be calm. Quentin looked down at her, checking to see if that was helping, and she didn’t really have the energy to smile, so she squeezed his hand. It’s cool—this is cool. The Entity didn’t even see you. It’ll go away, and everything is going to be fine. Fine. Fine…

There was a sound from the thing above them, and Nea could just barely see it. A long slit of blackness, with fire, like it had torn a hole in the sky itself and coming through that where the same long talons that had killed her countless times in trials, but God, so much bigger, and longer, and more, and the Huntress was standing there, looking up at it. The sound was like a hissing, sort of but, not—a little like whispers, and a little like the sound of metal, or scratching. Something she knew had to be some kind of a voice, but that didn’t sound like a real voice at all. And the darkness in the sky started the crawl through the hole and descend, getting closer, making the air thicker, harder to breathe.

The Huntress watched the thing in the sky and moved carefully, eyes fixed, walking between it and where the were hiding and then up towards it, and even though Nea already wasn’t making a sound, the urge to be quiet shot through her and she tried not to move—not to breathe, and there was a horrible noise from the sky, like voices but made out of metal and fire, and like a whisper or a hiss but somehow so loud it was painful, and it made her cringe just to hear it. Not just with physical pain, but with fear.

She heard Quentin whispering something under his breath beside her, but so quiet she couldn’t tell what. His hand was up around his necklace, clutching it, and he looked almost as scared as she felt, but he wasn’t looking at the thing, he was looking at the Huntress.

“Я нашел Малыш,” said the Huntress up to the sky, like she was answering it.

There was sound from the sky again, from the blackness and the talons and whatever was beyond it, dark and serious and horrifying, like a threat, like death, and the Huntress tilted her head, listening.

“Я содержать Малыш моя,” said Anna when it stopped. She pointed to the house. “Cодержать Безопасный. Любовь Малыш. Не для охоты.”

The thing in the sky hissed again, the sound sending overpowering shudders down Nea. She didn’t understand how Anna could stand in front of that thing. Its presence was overwhelming. It was like being inflicted with fear as a condition. Nea couldn’t shut it down. What the fuck, what the fuck. This is okay. Stay calm. Nothing bad has happened. It’ll be okay. You’re with Quentin, and it doesn’t know you’re here.

Anna turned and looked right at the bush and motioned with her arm.

Beside her, Nea saw Quentin’s eyes bug out and she felt her heart stop for a beat. Neither of them moved, and instead they both stopped breathing. The Huntress tilted her head, and then motioned again, face concerned.

“Stay here,” whispered Quentin.

Nea tried to stop him, but he was up too fast, before she could grab his arm, and he stepped out slowly from the bush, hands up and out like he was surrendering to the police, and Anna smiled at him.

“Малыш моя,” said Anna, pointing to him. She motioned Quentin to come to her, and he did, meticulously slowly, breathing shallow and fast, eyes on the thing in the sky. The talons moved idly, flicking, and turned with him, following his motion like a head. When he reached her side, the Huntress pulled Quentin against her chest and looked up at the cloud.

For a moment, there was no sound, just the claws moving idly, and then somehow the huge darkness made a completely different sound. None of that made sense to Nea, because none of the things making the sound had changed—still like metal and whispers and fire, but there was almost a tone to it. What the fuck?

The Huntress’ face lit up, and she looked down at Quentin, who was still staring at the Entity in rapt horror, and patted his head and tugged him closer against her.

The—what? That’s good. Right? M-maybe it—fuck—how could this possible be good? Shit, shit, shit—it won’t kill him—will—oh fuck—what do I do, what do I?

One talon slowly extended towards Quentin, and he tried to back up from it, but Anna held onto him and shook her head. He turned towards her, face horrified and pleading, but she just gave him a reassuring smile and held him still. Nea saw him struggle, and she tried to get up and to go help—she fought to—but the pressure was so strong she couldn’t—she couldn’t get up like Quentin had, no matter how hard she tried, like struggling in quicksand, just sinking deeper, and she heard him say something to Anna, she didn’t know what, because it had been in Russian, but he was pleading with her, and she still wouldn’t let go. The talon reached him then and Quentin turned to face it, leaning back from it as far as he could, shuddering as the thing got close, and as it met the skin on his forehead he shut his eyes and Nea fought with everything she had to make it up and help him, and there was a little sound like embers crackling in a fire, and she made it to her knees eyes fixed in horror on the sharp chunk of living medal against her friend’s head, and then it withdrew. The second it did, Nea suddenly felt the fear and the pressure it had been emitting lift, almost immediately.

Breathing quick and shallow, Quentin kept his eyes shut for just a moment after the thing had left his skin, and then slowly opened them, disbelieving, taking a moment to register that he was unharmed. But he was. Nea froze again, lost, but relieved, and as confused as he was, and the Huntress patted Quentin on the shoulder reassuringly. He looked up at her, not understanding.

There was a final sound from the Entity as the extended talon reached the other idle claws, and then they started to withdraw. Nea stared at it, trying to comprehend what was happening. She saw Quentin look from Anna to it, trying to do the same thing, the fear on his face being replaced with confusion, and then whatever was confusion in a much deeper and stronger stage, absolute bewilderment or something maybe, and there was a sound like burning for a second, and then the little rip in the sky vanished and the thing was gone.

Quentin looked at Nea immediately, and she shot the rest of the way to her feet.

“Are you okay?” asked Nea, running as fast as she could to be beside him, “I—I’m sorry, I froze up—I was trying to help, fuck—I’m sorry,”

“—No, it’s okay,” said Quentin, definitely meaning it, but looking very confused, “W—”

Anna spun him around to face her and snatched him from under his arms and lifted him up, suddenly beaming at him. “Cahveentyen oстаться!” she called up to him, overwhelmingly happy and spinning in a little circle, overflowing with excitement, “Все нормально!”

“Y-yeah,” said Quentin a little shakily, smiling down at her, “I really thought you and me were both dead for a second there. You’re okay, right?”

“Nрийти дома!” said the Huntress, bringing him up to her and bumping his nose and forehead with hers.

“Hang on,” said Quentin, smiling back at her on impulse, but looking a little bit confused too as she set him back down and dragged him excitedly into a hug, “You just said ‘home.’”

“Is she still trying to kidnap you?” asked Nea, dismayed, “After the Entity showed up? I mean we’re alive but that seemed kind of close to me, right?”

“Yeah—I—I don’t understand,” said Quentin, looking back at her through the smothering hug, “Do you have any idea what just happened? I thought. I thought it was going to…to kill her, or me—or—I guess maybe not kill, but punish—hurt. It just.” He looked up at where it had been, confounded, and then at the Huntress as she slowly released her hold a little, but she was still just overjoyed. He turned and looked back at Nea. “Wh-why didn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Nea, just as confused and worried as he was, looking from Anna to him, “It seemed super fucking mad until you walked out. Did it do anything to you when it touched you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Quentin, reaching up and feeling his forehead worriedly. The Huntress followed his motion and patted the forehead sympathetically. “Do I look different?”

“No,” said Nea, shaking her head, “Didn’t even cut you.”

“Why did she call me out?” asked Quentin, looking back at Anna.

“Why did you go?” said Nea.

“I thought—that—maybe—maybe she was in trouble,” answered Quentin, tripping over himself, “And if I came out, it might go easier. I didn’t want it to get mad if she asked me and I didn’t go.”

“Jesus, Quentin,” said Nea, “You could have died!”

“I know, I know,” said Quentin, still harried, “But this is all my fault for coming here anyway, and Feng said I shouldn’t, but I did, and I guess it—it’s okay though.” He hesitated, staring into space, looking like he was thinking a million miles an hour.

“We should run, right?” said Nea, “Before it comes back?”

“Yeah,” said Quentin, “We should go.”

Nea started to bolt, and Quentin tried to follow, but Anna caught his arm and shook her head at him.

“A—are you kidding me?” said Quentin, staring at her, “We just got insanely lucky—we can’t chance that again. You and I could have died.”

“Quentin, just lose the jacket!” said Nea, gesturing frantically for him to come with.

“What? Oh—” He looked down at the sleeve the Huntress had a hold on, and sighed unhappily. “Man, I loved this jacket. I’m really sorry Mom.” Quentin shifted his weight and leveraged his arm free of the sleeve she had, slipping his other arm out at the same time, and took off as fast as he could the millisecond the jacket was off.

The Huntress made a dismayed sound and took off after them, but they were still pretty close to the barrier, and Nea and Quentin just barely made it ahead of her. “Подождите!” called the Huntress.

Nea didn’t stop. She hit the grass line and tore through. Quentin didn’t stop either, running full-tilt just a half a foot behind her, but he smacked into nothing and stumbled back, hitting the invisible wall so hard it slammed him back into the grass.

“Quentin?” said Nea, hearing the thunk and turning on her heel, horrified.

Quentin dragged himself up and tried to follow her again, less fast this time, and hit the barrier a second time. Quentin stared at it, confused and dismayed, and placed his palms against it then, just pushing. Behind him, Anna reached them, and she stopped, watching Quentin, her own face relieved. Quentin didn’t even register her presence, though. For a moment, he just stared at his hands, and then after a second he looked up at Nea in horror. “I can’t get through.”

“What?” asked Nea, even though it was incredibly apparent exactly what he meant, just because she couldn’t believe it.

Quickly, she stepped back over the line and grabbed his arm and tried to drag him with her, but nothing happened. The hand she had hers around slammed against nothing and bent and wouldn’t come through, no matter how hard she tried to drag him with her.

“Ow—ow—okay stop! You’re gonna break my wrist,” said Quentin, and she let go. The Huntress moved up behind him and gave Nea curious look, then placed her own hand against the barrier, looking pretty interested by the whole situation. Barely even registering she was there, Quentin stared at the wall, scanning it, thinking, desperation slowly spreading across his features. “Nea, I’m stuck,” he said, looking up and meeting her eyes.

“But why?” begged Nea, who knew this, but also had no idea how to go back to the others and explain why Quentin was missing. Even if he would be safe here for a little bit. What the fuck?

“I—I think it gave me to her,” said Quentin, looking sickened and staring past Nea at nothing.

“Gave you—what—like a fucking reward?” asked Nea, heart sinking at the words coming out of her own mouth, replaying the way things had looked in her head, and thinking that almost, in a horrible way, made sense.

Quentin met her gaze and nodded at her slowly.

“What does—what does that mean,” said Nea, “You just live there now?”

“I don’t know,” said Quentin, even more upset than she was.

“Neeyah?” asked the Huntress, motioning Nea to come back over to their side too.

“Uhhh, I don’t think I should,” said Nea awkwardly to the big woman, “Pretty sure if I go over there, you’ll grab me, and no one will ever know what happened. Sorry—I know you mean well, but I’m also low-key freaking out.”

“You’re only freaking out low-key?” asked Quentin.

They stared at each other for a second, Nea and Quentin, and then Nea bust out laughing.

“What! This isn’t funny!” said Quentin miserably.

“It kind of is—I’m super sorry, but,” said Nea, wheezing, “Quentin you’re such a drama magnet.”

“That’s not fair!” said Quentin, struggling not to smile himself, because she was almost physically doubled over. “I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“No, I know,” managed Nea, “But—only to you—” She had to stop talking.

Quentin sighed and shook his head at her, arms crossed, but he cracked a smile even though he still looked pretty distressed.

“It’s fine, I think,” said Nea, straightening back up, “I can just go get a key and get you out through the hatch, and there’s nothing the Entity can do to stop that.”

“What if it keeps taking me back until we all run out of keys?” asked Quentin. “Also, there’s Anna.”

At her name, Anna tilted her head at Quentin curiously.

“Well, didn’t Claudette and Dwight just carry the Wraith out once?” asked Nea, thinking back.

“Oh wait—you’re right,” said Quentin, brightening considerably.

“Hey, I pay attention in meetings. I just don’t speak up,” said Nea, flashing a grin, “Want me to carry you?”

“Can you?” asked Quentin.

“Hell yeah—I’ve been working out with David,” said Nea, “And by ‘I can carry you,’ I mean, ‘I can fireman carry you, or piggyback,’ there’s no way in hell I can do it like the Huntress does.”

“Fine by me,” said Quentin.

“Do you wanna just hang out with her for a little bit, though?” asked Nea, “I mean, isn’t this kind of what you wanted?”

“What?” said Quentin, “Well—I mean I like her a lot, but I don’t want to get trapped in here, without you guys.”

“But you might not even have to go to trials,” said Nea, “Don’t you want a break?”

She could tell from the look immediately on his face that that had not occurred to Quentin. “W—but. That wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you,” said Quentin, “If everybody else still has to go, and I don’t—that’d be really shitty of me. I mean, I know I didn’t ask the Entity to change my player permissions from Survivor to Cabin Accessory, but. It’d be…” he kind of shook his head, stumbling through all this, “fucked up. No—I-I should get out as soon as I can.”

“Well, the Nightmare is kind of gunning for you super hard, so this might be for the team best right now, and for your own good,” said Nea thoughtfully.

“No! Don’t say that,” said Quentin, distressed, “Don’t leave me here.”

“Relax, dude, I’m not gonna like—abandon you,” said Nea. “But don’t you want a little time with your mom?”

“She’s not my—I,” Quentin hesitated and looked over at Anna, who was watching their conversation with a lot of interest, and smiled when he looked at her. He smiled back automatically, and then looked guilty about it and glanced back at Nea.

“It’s cool—I get it,” said Nea. “You didn’t have a mom, right? Tbh, I wish I’d been one of the people she latched onto. My parents didn’t care for me much, and it would be nice to get another shot at that with somebody. If you want to stay and spend some time with her, especially now that I guess we know for some reason the Entity isn’t going to nuke the two of you if it finds out, that should be fine.”

Agitated, Quentin considered that for a second. “But that’s really selfish,” he said finally, unhappy.

“Yeah well, when do you ever do stuff for yourself?” countered Nea, “Like never. You work all the time. Go have some fun—I would. Besides, it’ll make her happy.” Nea flashed the Huntress a smile. “Plus, now that she knows you’re fenced in, she might not even tie you up.”

Quentin made an unhappy sound and pressed his palms against the barrier, agitated and trying to think.

#my fave like in this whole draft is just Anna going Neeyah? : ) trying to sly trap another kid right on the heels of success 1 #Anna said Anna rights lol #I have so much weird stuff in my cut content doc #In Living Memory (fic)#In Living Memory #writing

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drowning-in-dennor · 4 years

Text

Where We Belong

Going to high school as the new kid isn’t easy, but luckily for Harald, he manages to find someone to help him survive the experience. [Written for @hetabang, with art drawn by @pixeltalia.]

Part One: Gratitude

For the millionth time, Harald reminds himself to thank his brother.

When they got the news of Stellan’s promotion, Harald thanked him once for putting food on their table. When they moved, he thanked him a second time for getting them a place to live. And now, as he stares up at his new school building, Harald’s just about ready to pull out his new cell phone, text his brother and spam him with “thank you”’s until he gets blocked.

Filios International School, the plaque reads, nailed to the iron-wrought gates of the school campus, and it doesn’t take a genius to know, with one look, that the place isn’t somewhere just anyone can get into.

Oh, but Harald did. He remembers passing the entrance exam, though barely so, and getting his admission letter. Stellan ruffled his hair and smiled the day they got the news, saying, “a brand new start for the two of us.”

It’s not until somebody clears their throat behind him does Harald stop staring up at the campus and actually start walking inside, following groups of his classmates into the grand school building.

The interior of the school is just as extravagant as its exterior, with winding staircases that lead up to classrooms with elegantly-carved doors. On the first floor, Harald looks around him, seeing walls adorned with vibrant murals; the floor, mosaicked with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny tiles; the ceiling, made of glass and allowing sunlight to shine in and bathe the school in its golden light.

Everywhere Harald looks, students are milling around. Some of them shriek as they reunite with old friends, some of them walk hand-in-hand with lovers and some lean against the wall, checking their cell phones.

As he looks at his classmates, most of them walking upstairs and disappearing down corridors, Harald realises that he has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. Awkwardly, Harald trails behind a group of girls up the stairs. There, the two carved-glass doors that stand in front of them turn out to be common rooms - one for girls, and one for boys.

Harald pushes the one on the left open, stepping inside to see some boys lounging around on plush-looking armchairs, some of them rummaging for books in lockers and some of them reading at desks. He approaches the left wall, filled from ceiling-to-floor with locker cubicles, and pushes his half-empty backpack into the one labelled with his name.

After that’s done, he stares around the common room, thinking, well, the hell do I do now? He settles for leaning against the lockers, trying to look as confused as possible and hoping someone takes pity on him.

Ten minutes later, when half the boys have left the common room for their classes, Harald’s still leaning against the wall and feeling even more baffled than before.

The bell chimes after five minutes, and the only boy left in the room shuts off his computer. Harald watches as his last hope to figure out his school picks up his folders, gets up from his seat and prepares to leave.

Steeling his nerves, Harald decides to clear his throat and step away from the lockers. “Uh, excuse me?”

Luckily, the boy turns around. “Yeah?”

He fumbles for his timetable, stammering, “I’m in class 2B, and I’m not really sure where my classroom is, so, uh, do you mind telling me where to go?”

The boy stares at him for a moment, before heading toward the door. Harald thinks that he’s doomed, before the boy says, looking back, “follow me.”

Without a moment of hesitation, he scurries behind the boy and follows him down sunlit corridors, passing brightly-painted doors and blank bulletin boards, before they reach a blue door with “2B” painted on it with bright-yellow paint. “Here we are.”

“Thank you so much.” Harald pushes the door open, relieved to find out that the teacher has yet to arrive.

The boy, however, marches in before him, past students who murmur greetings and kicking desks out of the way, before plopping down in a seat at the back. “Hey,” he calls, “what’re you waiting for?”

Realising that he’s still standing agape at the doorway, Harald walks into the classroom, staring at the ground until he reaches the seat next to the boy’s. When he stares up at him, Harald adds, hurriedly, “wait, if you don’t want me sitting here I can mo — “

“Nah.” The boy pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, fiddling with the shiny screen. “I can help you out in class, or something. What’s your name?”

Stunned into silence, Harald pulls out his student card and shows it to the boy.

“Okay.” The boy shrugs. “My name’s Leon. Nice to meet you, Haraldur.”

“Harald,” he corrects, “just call me that.”

Leon shrugs again, still typing rapidly on his cell phone. “Sure.”

They remain in awkward silence for a while, and Harald’s about to say something when the teacher walks into the classroom.

…

“How was class?”

Harald stares at his lunch and replies, “good.”

“Are the teachers nice?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You didn’t get lost, did you?”

“Nope.”

Stellan eyes his brother suspiciously over his cup of coffee. “You sure everything went okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re giving me one-word answers.” He pokes Harald in the forehead.“When that happens, you’re usually upset about something.”

“Well, I’m not.” Harald takes a sip of his water. “Things actually went better than I expected. I managed to make a new friend.”

That gets Stellan’s attention. He leans in, clearly holding back a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m not that antisocial, y’know.” He rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling too. “He’s just some guy in my class. His name is Leon. And, uh,” he adds, “he spent most of the classes just using his phone under the desk.”

“Really?” Stellan remarks again. “I hope he won’t be a bad influence.”

“He won’t, he won’t,” Harald says quickly, “the teachers all seem okay with him. He let me sign up for theatre with him, too.”

That gets his attention. “You’re already part of a club?”

Harald almost laughs at his brother’s disbelieving expression. “Yep.”

“You’re better than me, then. When I was in high school I spent all my time in the library.” Stellan gets out of his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “My shift starts in fifteen minutes, so I have to go.” He heads towards the diner’s cashier, pulling notes out of his wallet. “Have fun in school.”

As he watches him leave, Harald begins packing his bag, ready to follow.

Part Two: Guidance

Harald glares at the angry red “F”.

It seems to glare back.

Leon slings an arm around his shoulders, waving his test paper that flaunts a bold “A”. “Failed again?”

“Don’t rub it in, idiot.” Harald elbows his friend in the gut and stuffs the test paper at the back of his folder. “I suck at Chinese, I get it.”

“Why did you pick it, then?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” He scowls. “I wanted to pick Farsi, but they were full and I got tossed here.”

“This is, like, the third time you’ve flunked a quiz,” Leon says, “don’t you think that you need to change the way you study or something?”

The suggestion is met with a deepened scowl. “I’ve tried that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” Harald snaps, though he instantly regrets the outburst. Leon pats him on the shoulder and tugs at his frown, clearly still glowing over his good grade. Harald lets him mess with his face, not in the mood to yell any more.

“Yo.”

“Hmm?”

“You need help in Chinese.”

“Clearly.”

“I have an idea.”

“That’s never a good thing.”

He thumps Harald on the back. “Shut up. As I was saying, I have an idea to help you bring up your Chinese grades.”

Harald raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“I was thinking that I could tutor you.” It’s clear from the expression on his face that he thinks it’s an excellent idea.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

Leon frowns. “Why, though? I’m practically at the top of the class, and I’m your friend.”

“My only friend.”

“I’m your friend,” he insists, “and I want to help you out. So why don’t you come over to my place after school so I can help you out?”

He takes a moment to think of a rebuttal to that. He can’t. “Okay, okay, fine,” Harald finally says, “you can extend your goodwill to this illiterate, pitiful fool.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Leon reassures, although he’s grinning triumphantly. “You’re not pitiful, just illiterate.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Leon teeters back in his seat, lolling his head back. “I’m an amazing person, I know.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me that I have a presumptuous asshead as my best friend.”

“Any time.” Leon’s widened grin is annoyingly bright.

…

Two hours later, in Leon’s apartment, Harald begins to regret his decision.

His friend is clearly having too much fun showing off, bringing out his old Chinese textbooks from primary school and loudly proclaiming, “this is the stuff I learned in my first year of primary school. Maybe they can help.”

He glares at the textbooks, covered almost condescendingly in bright colours, bubbly fonts and cheerful characters. He flips the textbook open. The overly-large characters printed on glossy papers are barely recognisable.

“Is that still too hard for you?”

“Shut up, I’m already really embarrassed.”

“Why?” Leon sits down next to him, slamming down a packet of manuscript paper. “There’s no shame in having trouble learning a language.” He shrugs. “Hell, when we first moved here I could barely speak English, and look at me now.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “You don’t speak with an accent. I have an accent in both English and Chinese!”

“But there’s nothing wrong with an accent! That just means that you went through the hard work of learning a new language.” Harald jumps when Leon grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. “Look, I’m sorry for being an ass about your grades. You’re stuck with this language, so you might as well be good at it. I can help you with that.”

Harald shakes his hand off. “Right, okay, whatever. Where do we start?”

Leon grabs the nearest textbook, which appears to be targeted toward six-year-olds. Harald does his best to not feel even more embarrassed. “This one, probably. You’re not too bad with the basics.”

“You overestimate my skills.”

“Come on, you’re not that bad.” Leon flips the textbook open and yanks out a piece of manuscript paper. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Very reassuring.”

“I’ve seen waaaaaay worse, trust me.” He points to the passage. “Now, let’s start.”

…

“I think we made pretty good progress today.”

“I feel less illiterate.”

“See?” Leon crosses his arms, that perpetually victorious expression on his face even more so. “You’re not terrible at this, you just needed a little push in the right direction.”

Harald smiles a little, gathering his notes and stuffing them in his bag. “Thanks, Leon. Really.”

“Hey, no problem.” He winks, stacking up the textbooks and hefting them up. “D’you want to meet up again next week?”

“Sure.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and begins heading toward the door, raising a hand in a wave. “See you next time.”

Leon waves. “Bye.”

…

The next few lessons fly by, copyings and recitations making Harald even more familiar with the language. He stops getting zeros on his homework, discussions in class become less awkward and he stops being miserable while staring at his textbook.

After another successful tutoring session, Harald prepares to leave when he remembers something. “Oh, crap.”

Leon looks up from tidying up his desk. “What is it?”

“My brother’s working overtime today.” He claps his palm to his forehead, looking at the darkening sky from out the window. “He won’t get home until ten o’clock.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Leon shoves the pile of textbooks and exercise books into a drawer. “You can stay for dinner.”

Harald stares at him in disbelief. “I can what?”

“Stay for dinner,” he repeats, “Yao can cook for you, too.”

“No, no, I can’t, I’ll just go to the diner.”

He grabs Harald’s wrist, making him jump about a foot in the air. “Like hell you are. If you eat all that greasy diner food, you’ll get heart disease and die at age twenty-one.” Leon pauses. “Gosh, I sound like my brothers. But anyway, you’re going to stay for dinner.”

“I — “ he sighs, sharply elbowing Leon in the ribs. “Okay. I’ll stay. Only this time, though.”

…

More lessons, more improvement. Then one day, their teacher announces the arrival of a dreaded event — another quiz. Harald jots down the date in his planner, then the syllabus. It’s nothing that he and Leon haven’t covered, nothing that they’ve reviewed over and over again, but he can’t help feeling nervous.

After school, he takes the familiar route to Leon’s apartment, tossing his now-enormous folder of notes and textbook onto the table. Leon flops down, puffing his bangs away from his eyes. “The quiz is going to be so easy.”

“For you, maybe.” Harald pulls out a blank sheet of manuscript paper. “For me, it’s going to be a one-way ticket to failure.” He writes down the title with a little more force than necessary. “That is, assuming I’m not there already.”

“Hey, you’ll be fine. As long as you study enough and remember what we went over, you won’t fail.” Very unhelpfully, Leon adds at the end, “hopefully.”

“I just love how reassuring you are.”

“I love me, too.” He leans over to look at Harald, who’s jotting down notes of the first few chapters of his textbook. “But really, don’t worry about it. If you take the quiz all nervous and stuff, you’ll make a ton of careless mistakes.”

He has a point. Harald flips the page of his textbook, perhaps a little too violently, and blots out a mistake. The blue ink smudges when his hand brushes over it. Leon sits down next to him, reading a bright, garish comic book. Harald tries to ignore his whistling, at how at-ease he seems despite the upcoming assessment.

An hour and a half later, his hand cramping and four pages of notes packed with his writing, Harald gets up and packs. When he bends down to pick up his bag, pain shoots through his back and he winces. Across the table, Leon glances at him. “Really?”

“What do you mean, really?”

“Your back hurts, doesn’t it?” Leon stands up, tossing his comic book onto the table and scooping up Harald’s bag for him. “And I’m pretty sure your hand’s cramping, too. You have to take breaks sometimes, or you’re going to burn up.”

“Okay, Mom.” He stretches again, picking up his bag and walking away. “I’ll take care of myself or something. See you.”

…

Leon tilts back in his head so his head rests on Harald’s desk. “So how do you think you did?”

“I have no clue.” He pokes Leon’s forehead, then his nose, watching as his friend grows cross-eyed. “I just hope I passed.”

“That’s no good, you should give yourself higher standards.”

Harald prods him again. “I’ve never passed before, give me a break.”

“I guess.” At the front of the classroom, the teacher calls Leon’s name. He saunters confidently toward them, taking his test paper and staring at the results nonchalantly.

When it’s Harald’s turn to get his test paper, he folds the corner over the red letter, waiting until he gets back to his seat to read them. Once he sits down, he unfolds the cease and looks down.

“You’re kidding me.”

“What?” Leon turns around to look at his test paper. “How did you do?”

“I passed!” Harald shows him his test paper and the C+ on it, fighting a smile. “I actually passed, holy crap, this is amazing.” He sets down his paper before deciding to hug Leon. “Thanks for helping me out.”

Squeezing him back, Leon smiles.

#aph hongice #APH Hong Kong #APH Iceland #aph fanfiction #my writing #hetabang2020 #bringbackhetalia2k20

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