#SORRY i jumped into a deep analysis i got carried away i really like to think about fnaf i cant stop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serialkillerinthemaking · 3 years

Text

below the cut is my insanely long analysis of sa and its metaphors its bad but i did in an hour with a headache so it is what it is

analyzing sa even though it's been said so much it's redundant I just need a place to collect it all ya know

note: none of this is chronological to the story and its probably just going to be the song lyrics

there are many run-on sentences and grammar problems sorry. I'm writing this off the idea that everyone has a decent understanding of sa and its plot.

obviously, mama who bore is about Wendla’s mom not telling her about sex. mwbmr is the same thing except it shows none of the girl's mom tells them about sex.

all that's known starts with the boys robotically repeating Virgil's Aeneid before Melchior breaks out and starts singing. He explains that science and facts are pushed aside in favor of religion and his parents wanting him to fall in line and not question what is taught. that's the general theme of the song. he is determined not to become part of the hivemind and question what is taught. he wants to find and see and experience more than what they know of and are teaching in terms of the world and he himself.

He mentions the stars and them being sort of all-knowing. stars are brought up again in those you've known sort of being a metaphor for society and the children of his generation and the ones to come. In those youve known, he vows to read Moritz and Wendla's dreams to the stars because they are dead and can really communicate with him and therefore rely on him to spread the word of their thoughts and ideas and stories. this being a cautionary tale, those stories must be told.

he mentions the repression of free thought. children are naturally curious of the world around them but as they grow up the adults push them not to be and only to accept what we know now. he doesn't want to lose this and stop eternally searching for more. this is sort of put into the term "purple summer". meaning the story, the cause, the prevention, and the tragic beauty of the story. we'll come back to the meaning of purple summer itself.

he says one day all will know generally meaning what is happening beneath the surface and societies refusal to talk about it and explore it. in purple summer this comes back more concrete. instead of one day, more like a distant hope, he says all shall know. they will know now, soon, not one day in the distant future. In the end, his journey is complete and it goes from one day all will know to all shall know.

tbol and my junk are pretty straight forward you guys don't need me for those.

touch me is basically about the yearning for sex and to know what is. there are some metaphors but they are pretty self-contained within the song itself and don't really have enough grasp on them to go too deep. either that or they're really not actually that deep lol.

woyb is basically about Melchior and Wendla wanting to be with each other and trying to resist the temptation because of oppression

The dark I know well is about the rape and sexual assault of Martha and Ilse at the hands of her father and artist friends, respectively. Again the song uses one central self-contained metaphor that is never brought up again in the context of the show and is pretty easy to understand.

and then there were none has frau Gabor intermittently reading a letter she wrote in response to Moritz asking for money to escape. Moritz jumps in and sings his thoughts as he reads the letter and basically watches his last hope fall through. he feels she tries to sugarcoat the point of the letter. he is mad for saying things in an attempt to make him feel better and to try her best to help, such as writing a letter to his parents. she tells him she still cares for him but can't help him. he feels he has no other option left after failing his tests. you all know the plot you don't need me to explain it.

mirror blue night Melchior is horny blah blah blah I hate this song moving on

I believe while they disobey the church and its a church song irony yeah

(it's so late I'm sorry)

don't do sadness blue wind ohoho lets goooo

Moritz wishes to be a butterfly, no longer having to deal with life, and happily flying. he says he doesn't do sadness because he just can't handle it anymore. the failing the test hurt him and frau Gabor refusing to help was the straw that broke the camel's back. he can't take it anymore. Ilse comes in and sees he's sad. it's cold and dark outside symbolizing his current mood so she sings about the happiness of spring and summer to cheer him up. fall and winter are analogies for sadness and pessimism, spring and summer are happiness and optimism, hence spring awakening, the happiness coming back after the sad times. purple summer also references that but that's for later. she talks about when they were kids happily playing in the sun. wind, a cold sad month thing always comes back but it always goes away. happiness will always come and sadness will always go just like the seasons. Moritz is only living in fall and autumn, not seeing the spring and summer ahead. Ilse gets through her life through optimism relying on the blue wind never taking when it creeps up and always going away once again. and then it just kinda repeats you get the rest.

left behind. he never got to grow up and be an adult and its his parent's (mostly his dad's) fault. metaphor once again fully in the song not really brought up again.

you guys got the rest (more than sufficient critical conjecture on woybr) until WHISPERING whooo

she hears the ghosts because throughout she alive and dead. sort of. everyone is sad. she describes her family's grief at her funeral. the preacher uses her as a cautionary tale and warns others of her fate. they say she did bad things and this how she ended up. such a shame, such a sin. she feels powerless, like she didn't have a voice and only could do what was told of her. she didn't know any better despite her best efforts. she mentions summer longing in the wind. happiness being swept up by sadness was pretty much her whole "relationship" with Melchior.

👏those👏you've👏known

there is so much I'm just gonna analyze it line by line (i consider this the pinnacle of metaphors in theatre considering the buildup)

MORITZ

Those you’ve known

And lost, still walk behind you

All alone

They linger till they find you

self explanatory pretty much

Without them

The world grows dark around you

And nothing is the same until you know that they have found you

Melchior's world has crumbled, he feels like it never going to be the same without them, but he found them.

WENDLA

Those you’ve pained

May carry that still with them

All the same

They whisper: “All forgiven.”

He hurt her, and she's still hurting but she forgives him because there is love in heaven, all will be forgiven.

Still your heart says

The shadows bring the starlight

And everything you’ve ever been is still there in the dark night

everything she was was left behind, but she still finds it here.

WENDLA

When the northern wind blows

The sorrows your heart holds

There are those who still know –

They’re still home

We’re still home

he's still hurting, they're still there.

MORITZ (Sung In Counterpart)

Though you know

You’ve left them far behind

You walk on by yourself, and not with them –

Still you know

They will fill your heart and mind

When they say there’s a way through this

he's living and must continue without them but they are still there in his heart.

MELCHIOR, MORITZ AND WENDLA

Those you’ve known

And lost, still walk behind you

All alone

Their song still seems to find you

They call you

As if you knew their longing –

They whistle through the lonely wind, the long blue shadows falling

they are still there!

MELCHIOR

All alone

But still I hear their yearning

Through the dark, the moon, alone there, burning

The stars too

They tell of spring returning –

And summer with another wind that no one yet has known

The stars are back! they are all knowing and tell of the sadness passing, the happiness returning, with something new.

(MORITZ and WENDLA Join with Counterparts)

They call me –

Through all things –

Night’s falling

But somehow I go on

You watch me

Just watch me –

I’m calling

From longing

a call back to all thats known

WENDLA (Sung in Counterpart)

When the northern wind blows

The sorrows your heart’s known –

I believe…

she still believes in forgiveness.

MORITZ (Sung in Counterpart)

Still you known

There’s so much more to find –

Another dream, another love you’ll hold

he doesn't have to be stuck on them and they are giving him permission to move on and find happiness again.

Still you know

To trust your own true mind

On your way – you are not alone

There are those who still know

a call back to all that's known,

MELCHIOR (Sung Alone)

Now they’ll walk on my arm through the distant night

And I won’t let them stray from my heart

Through the wind, through the dark, through the winter light

I will read all their dreams to the stars

i dissected this line back in all thats known but STARS! they back

I'll walk now with them

I’ll call on their names

I’ll see their thoughts are known

they know now! all will know he knows and know they know! their story will be told!

WENDLA

Not gone –

they are still there!

MELCHIOR

They walk with my heart –

And I'll never let them go

they are still there!

I’ll never let them go

You watch me

Just watch me

I’m calling

I’m calling –

And one day all will know

ALL👏WILL👏KNOW👏

P U R P L E S U M M E R

purple has historically represented freedom, the kids now have freedom and summer here means happiness. so now they have both. purple summer is just yeah knowledge and freedom of oppression and the hivemind because this Germany 1890 bad (its a john Mulaney reference I'm so sorry im losing my mind)

And all shall know the wonder

I will sing the song of purple summer

All thats known, all will know all shall know. They will know because we will tell them.

And still, I wait

The swallow brings

A song of what's to follow -

The glory of the spring

The happiness! The knowledge! The freedom! Its coming! It waking it up! SPRING IS AWAKENING! ahhhhhhhhhh

#spring awakening #dwsa cast #long post #add your own mine are crap #i wanna hear your interpritations of it #gotta give it up for duncan sheik #he really did the most here

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janekfan · 4 years

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Famished

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145478

This was ridiculous.

Perhaps the drink was making him more foolishly in love than usual because he couldn’t stop staring at him and when Jon looked back in turn, he tried to memorize every feature: the delicate flush high in his face, a lazy half-smile, the comfortably loose way he’d unspooled on the couch next to Martin, knee just a scant centimeter from his own.

He was beautiful like this.

“Martin.” Jon set his glass aside, knitting his brows in concern in the most adorable way. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, Jon. I.” He looked away, cheeks hot, having been caught in his not so subtle gawking. “I was. You.” He laughed softly. “I was looking at you.” Jon’s face went bright red and he blinked furiously, ducking his head and peering up at Martin through long lashes briefly before darting away.

Adorable.

They spent a few more moments in easy quiet, listening to the fire burn down in the hearth, the crackling and popping providing punctuation to the unspoken conversation between them before Jon breached it.

“M’Martin?” There was something uneasy in his tone now, in the way he traced Perry’s scar on his palm. In his far-away eyes fixed on the flames licking their way over the logs.

“Jon?” And when that gaze turned upon him, ceaseless and unblinking and awash with damp fear, Martin felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Am I? Did I?” He swallowed, trembling, staring back into the conflagration. “Come back wrong?”

“What?” Martin’s pulse jumped, sped up, because what did he mean wrong? “What do you mean?" And he was so afraid of the answer. Things were good. Nice, even. Since they were currently not running for their lives but in fact experiencing a little downtime.

“Did you kn’know.” Horrified, Martin watched his bottom lip begin to quiver. Watched him bite it hard enough to leave marks to get it to stop before his tongue darted out to lick over the imprints of his teeth. He chuffed a laugh, a sad, awful little thing, and Martin could see his misty eyes glowing bright. “Kn’kn’know that Georgie wished I had died? R’rather than wake up?”

“What?” Rage, disbelief. And Jon flinched back, tears spilling over now with the sudden movement, like it was he who’d done something wrong and, no, no, no he hadn’t. This was all Martin’s fault because he knew Jon wouldn’t have told him this if he hadn’t (accidentally) gotten him drunk. If not for this moment, chances are he’d have kept it all to himself, locked up inside behind his intricate maze of walls. Martin was sick; he and Georgie became a little bit closer during the six months Jon was away. He knew her as kind, as someone who was there for Jon when he couldn’t be. Had hoped that while he was in the Lonely--

Jon still had someone on his side.

He knew little of the choice Jon had been given at the time. But he knew it was either come back. Or don't. And he was so, so grateful he’d chosen to come back to him.

“She’s right, isn’t she? I, I, I woke up. Twisted? I’m wrong, Martin.” The way he choked on the word made his heart ache. He’d drawn into himself again, the cozy sprawl from before tucked back inside like it never existed in the first place, limbs folded around the most sensitive parts of him and Martin felt at once like he was trying to soothe a wild and injured animal.

“No, no, Jon. Of course not.”

“But--” he sobbed.

“Georgie’s the one who’s wrong.”

“It hurt, Martin. To, to choose.” Now the tears came steady, slipping down his thin, scarred face, collecting on his chin until his quivering got the better of them. “Should I have died?” He was whispering, muttering, thinking out loud to himself and much too deep in his own head right now. “How could I have chosen wrong?”

“Choosing to live, to survive, is not wrong.”

“But.” The way he sounded, so. Defeated. As though he’d done the analysis and come up with enough evidence to fill a very large book. And Martin himself was probably in the footnotes.

“No, Jon. No.”

“I hurt people. You. Georgie. Melanie. Oh, god, Tim, Sasha.” He was spiraling, rocking back and forth minutely and to see him so undone broke something inside of Martin. It had taken Jon so long to let anyone close, to accept help, and when he was ready, when he needed it most, no one wanted anything to do with him.

“You didn’t trap them at the Institute.” But hadn’t Tim implied exactly that? Blamed Jon for all that went wrong and then some, as if he’d had any more information than the rest of them. And then died without granting him forgiveness? All this time--how heavy was that to carry?

“I don’t want to hurt people, Martin. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” His rambling was muffled behind both hands as they hid his face, syllables gasping and breathless, hyperventilating.

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t need this.”

“It’s alright.” Jon was constantly pale and exhausted, his hands already shook most of the time. He was starving without statements and refused to let Martin help him.

“Should I.” He lowered his hands, clasped them over his mouth and the stricken anguish in his face made tears sting the corners of Martin’s eyes. “I should let it take the rest of me.” Martin wished he hadn’t strained so hard to hear what sounded far too close to an epiphany for comfort.

“Jon.” Frantic, panting, his damp eyes searched his and Martin found himself shaking his head, because he knew what was coming next.

“Would you. Would you stay?” Mouth pressed into a line, gathering courage. “I w’wouldn’t ask, I, just.” When he closed his eyes he looked so vulnerable, so small, and Martin just wanted to wrap him up and take him away from here, to protect him from even himself. “It h’urts.” Whispered, a confession exhaled on a breath of hopeful air. “It’s been a long time so. So it--”

“Stop.” The change was like quicksilver; wretched mortification flooding into his expression at the thought that he’d miscalculated and he tried to backpedal.

“S’sorry.” Shame and embarrassment, like he’d done something dreadful by sharing even a fraction of what he kept bottled up inside.

“It makes me upset to hear you talk like this.”

“Of course.” He sounded so guilty. “I. I shouldn’t have. I apologize, Martin.” Immediately Jon’s face closed off and he was so good at it, at sliding the mask over his face so smoothly, Martin realized no one in his life ever wanted to hear. He hazarded a guess that Georgie hadn’t either.

“Jon. I didn’t mean. I want you to come to me when you feel like this. Always.”

“But.” He was hugging himself tightly, guarded. Exhausted. Cheeks tear-stained and eyes rimmed red, underscored with deep purple bruises.

“I want you. The thought of. Of watching you hurt like that. Hurt more.” He smiled sadly. “No, Jon. I need you.” Martin didn’t remind him that Elias had all the time in the world to choose another and who knew if that individual would try this hard to cling to their humanity. “And I’m so relieved you chose to come back.” Sobbing anew, Jon shuddered, his nerves most likely open and raw and exposed and Martin should have known better.

He really should have.

Jon yelped like a kicked dog when he laid a hand on his shoulder, toppling backwards over the arm of the couch with a scrambling thud in his attempt to get away from him and when Martin rounded the furniture Jon’s narrow chest heaving from the shock of it, heel of one hand pressed firmly to his forehead, the other curled up tight in the collar of his shirt.

“S’s’sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Martin.” He whimpered, frustrated that he could barely speak, “I. Not.”

“It’s alright.” Martin breathed deeply, exaggerated, so Jon could hear it, relieved that he attempted to copy him. At this rate, he would pass out with how hard he was fighting. “It’s alright.” He knew Jon had experienced awful things; they all have, likely will continue to be stalked by this disaster. But it became so clear in this moment how Elias, Jonah, isolated Jon from the very start. “It’s alright.” Unbidden, the instances where he’d been threatened by the people who were supposed to be his friends swamped his memory. He’d been alone. Completely alone. All this time and if anything, Martin’s stretch in the Lonely made those signs shine brighter in others and Jon may as well have been a beacon. “I understand.”

“No. It’s not you. N’n’nikola.” He was calmer, had forced himself to be so; desperate to reassure Martin that it wasn’t his fault.

“You don’t have to tell me.” But Jon shook his head despite his reassurances.

“No, you. You d’d’deserve to know what. What you’re dealing with.” Oh, Jon, please don’t hate yourself. “She said it would hurt. A’a’and they kept. Kept. Touching me. And I couldn’t make them stop. I wanted them to stop. I really did, Martin.” He swiped almost angrily at the flood of new tears.

“I know, hush, of course you did. Of course.”

“I fought them. Every time. I, I tried.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have been caught in the first place. I, I.”

“Shh…It’s not your fault, Jon.”

“And nobody. God, nobody. Eli--Jonah. No one knew.”

“I know; that wasn’t fair to you.” A month with his captors. And no one even noticed his absence. Or asked after him when he returned. Even after that awful joke he made to try and, and, and to process what had happened to him.

“I just want, want. I want, Martin.” Jon pushed himself into the upholstery and Martin knew if he could have torn his way into the fabric and hid, he would have. His short nails were leaving crescent moons in his arms. “Everything hurts, it’s, it’s too much. My head, my, my skin. I just. Want.”

“Okay, Jon. Okay. It’s okay.” Even though it was the farthest thing from the truth, but Martin wanted to try something before Jon fell even farther away from him, perhaps to a place where he wouldn’t be able to reach. “Jon? Can I touch you?” Over folded limbs, his eyes kept flickering to and from Martin. “I think it would help.” He kept his voice even and low and kind. “May I?”

“Please.” Slowly, so Jon could see each movement, Martin reached for the same shoulder as before, laying his palm over it firmly, and when Jon closed his eyes, more tears spilled down his face. He took a shaky breath, and then another, stronger this time, and Martin let him get used to the weight and the warmth.

Jon was overwhelmed. Stiff and trembling, lashes dark and damp like freshly spilled ink on his cheeks.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” Soft, gentle. “You’re in control, Jon. Tell me to stop and I will listen. I promise.”

“Stop?” He flinched, waiting for pain, or laughter, or mocking, derisive words, eyes still tightly closed. “P’please.” Martin wasn’t insulted by his test, removing his palm and offering him what he hoped was an easy smile, not blind to how Jon’s gaze now flicked between his hand and his face. If that was it for now, so be it. Martin wouldn’t rush him while they had this time together and kept his posture loose and unassuming, ready to wait forever if that’s what he needed.

Those sharp brown eyes were fixed on his hand and Martin knew he would never ask for what he wanted.

“Again?”

“Please.” Hushed, and this time he relaxed, just a bit.

“Could I hold you?”

“Please?” Even softer than before and Martin met him halfway as Jon all but collapsed into his lap, burying his face in his stomach and curling around him.

“Breathe, you need to breathe, Jon.” Gently, he levered him further into his arms. “I’ve got you.” Squeeze and release. Martin held him tight, held him together until he could again do it for himself, I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. And he felt when it became easier for Jon to force air into his body past the lead bands around his lungs Martin was all too familiar with from experience.

Jon couldn’t seem to get close enough, as though the small morsels of affection and comfort from the past few days made him crave it somehow more and he was clinging now, breath hitching with each pass of Martin’s palm over his shoulder blades, the knobs of his spine, each rung in the ladder that was his rib cage and lingering at the gap where two had been torn out of him for another. Always for another. His beautiful Jon; used so poorly by so many. Running fingers through his hair, he murmured sweet nonsense into his ear, tucking his still damp face into his neck and smiling at the deep peacefulness of his sigh, how each trembling muscle relaxed, how he settled against him like he was made to fit just there.

“Jon?” The accompanying touch, the backs of his fingers against his cheek, was as gentle as his inquiry. He was blinking slow, up at Martin’s face, eyes adorably crossed and bleary with his long fingers tangled up in his jumper.

“M’so tired.” He nuzzled the soft yarn, lashes fluttering closed, and Martin could feel it in the way his weight became heavier, how he melted completely, all the fear, all the panic oozed out of him until only Jon was left.

“Bed?”

“Mm.” The sleepiest, tiniest nod, and his love for him swelled in his chest.

“Alright, darling.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh, shh.” Martin cupped his face, ran his thumb over the bone of his cheek. “None of that now, no need to be sorry.” Slowly, he lifted Jon up with him as he stood, catching him up under his knees when they threatened to buckle. “I’ve got you.” Jon had yet to unwind his fingers from where they held on so tightly and he pulled Martin down with him into the blankets.

“Martin.” Lightly, he brushed his lips against a scar left from the Corruption, listened to the little gasp Jon made, and kissed another. Softly, sweetly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, a whisper of green when Martin looked at him just right that matched his pleading susurration. Another scar. And another, there were so many, on his lined face, down the dark column of his throat. The mark left from Daisy elicited a sharp intake, tensing, and Martin soothed him with another press to his forehead. He caressed each scar, determined to replace each awful memory, each awful touch with something better, something that spoke of care, and fondness, promises of love.

“Call’d me, ‘darling.’” He sounded drugged, tongue loose and tripping up, syllables slurring with exhaustion and the chartreuse glimmering now hidden behind closed lids. Martin lifted his palm from where it had fallen away, lingering longest where Jon could feel it the least.

“Of course I did.”

Martin laid awake long after Jon slipped under, stroking his hair, watching him sleep, slack and undone, and hoping the dreams he walked through were at least somewhat kind to both Beholder and Beholden.

#TMAHC #TMAHCweek #jonmartin #Jon sims #Martin Blackwood #panic attacks #touch starved #hugs #trauma #kisses #anxiety #self worth issues #suicidal thoughts #scottish safe house #Nikola and her non con touching #not cool man #the magnus archives #tma

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izukyu · 4 years

Text

𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - oboro shirakumo x reader.

this is a suuper late entry for @heroheads‘s 500 followers writing contest! you’re so lovely and i hope we can talk to each other more in the future mwah.

pairing - oboro shirakumo x reader.

word count - 1.4k +

warnings - none!

summary - who would’ve guessed a run-in with the school’s resident kitten would score you a date with a cute cloud guy?

★ - requests are open!

chasing after troublemakers was part of a hero's job. providing aid in rescue missions and the occasional patrolling duties were also in the to-do list, regardless, it all paled in comparison to actual action. fighting for the good in the world, protecting smiles - that’s the kind of hero the world needed. the kind of hero you devoted yourself to becoming one day.

except chasing down a cat of all things wouldn’t be something you signed up for exactly.

“get back here!” you called, hoping for the feline struggling to run with your essay in his mouth to answer your pleas.

how come a cat that size could make a swift getaway with five printed pages worth of knowledge? in a way, life didn’t seem to favor everyone, especially the hard-working students starting and finishing their assignments the night before the due date.

karma, perhaps?

arriving at school with ten minutes to spare had never seemed like a better idea before, given your morning so far had consisted of having your acquaintance of a cat snatch the homework you dropped before you could retrieve it. truth being that particular assignment wasn’t anything ground-breaking per se, but still. that was your night you sacrificed to finish the damn essay.

the cunning cat, and his rather odd expertise in school shortcuts, eventually drove you two to a deadend. once the troublemaker was cornered, you squatted, carefully closing the distance between the kitten and your mentally exhausted self.

“no quirk culture analysis for you on this fine morning,” a mewl of protest wasn’t enough to make you give in, instead making quick work to retrieve the severed papers. “trust me, it’s really not worth it.”

while your essay crumbled in your hands, you realized maybe social studies and the upbringing of quirks was a pretty boring subject after all - a conclusion even a kitten could come to.

a sigh slipped past your lips, scooping up the furball in your arms before standing up, “you’re a real mean guy, y’know? my teacher’s not gonna buy the old excuse again,” the rather soft to the touch kitten paid no attention to your scolding, opting for pawing your hand instead - a prison of sorts.

another loud voice busted you out of the impromptu petting session, getting closer which each hurried step that echoed in the hall.

whoever was yelling out what they were having for lunch (seriously, was there any need to shout ‘sushi’ so many times?) seemed to catch the kitten’s attention, who swiftly scrambled out of your grip. the more you thought about it, the more you realized that cat would make a damn good houdini impersonator.

your aggressive pspsps-ing wasn’t enough to catch his attention back again, and you found yourself unable to hide the kitten away in time.

“sushi, geez, don’t scare me like that again!”

surprisingly enough, the first thought that came to your mind was how ‘sushi’ was such a lame name for a pet.

the mystery student crouched down to greet the cat, grinning as sushi nuzzled his palm, “i missed you too, ya rascal.”

“... is that your cat?”

you couldn’t help but snicker as oboro, along with sushi, fell backwards, certainly not expecting a third-party to join in. “oh! well... yeah, it’s my cat.”

after that initial greeting, you straightened your tie, getting on your feet with a relieved scoff. “that little guy is certainly something else, it’s not the first time he’s messed with almost all of my notebooks and homework.”

the sudden movement caught sushi’s attention once again. without a single care in the world, he jumped back to you, to which you answered by picking him up in your arms like before. your attention was clearly somewhere else, and you failed to notice oboro’s confused gaze on you.

“yeah, sushi’s a mean one,” he scrambled to get back on his feet, effortlessly towering over you, “if he can’t find somewhere decent he’ll just pee on me.” which part of his brain told him that would be a good way to carry the conversation?

by some sort of miracle, you didn’t mind the odd confession, “you’re just a mean roll - the bad type of crude, ain’tcha, sushi?” a brief pause consisting of you pampering his cat ensued. it wasn’t necessarily an awkward silence, but there was tension in the air apparently only oboro could feel.

he scratched his neck nervously, “you’re not gonna tell the principal, are you?”

“i’m sure that man’s certain i hallucinate cats in my sleep,” you sighed in defeat, gently pulling your finger away from sushi’s mouth. “your secret’s safe with me.”

almost as if a switch had been turned, oboro visibly calmed down, his once uptight shoulders loosening up. “thanks, i’ll make sure to keep him away from bothering you!”

you hummed in acknowledgment, still too busy scratching behind sushi’s ears. “you’re a second year too right? i don’t think we’ve met each other before.”

oboro adapted to the sudden change of topic rather quickly, “yeah, i’m from class a, kinda hurt you haven’t noticed me before.”

his feigned sorrow made you smile.

“oh, i’ve seen you around. your hair’s not exactly the subtle type,” you pointed out, a giggle crawling out of your worn throat as oboro’s hand instinctively shot up to comb through his hair. “plus, it’s a two-way street, it‘s not like you’ve made any attempts to interact either.”

“i have!” oboro’s eyes shot open almost comically, “remember during last year’s culture festival when someone accidentally spilled their soba on you?”

“oh my god,” you were no longer unable to contain your tittering, soon reigning the empty hall with boisterous, genuine laughter. “that was you?”

“i need to emphasize the accidentally part,” oboro reciprocated your emotion, his smile widening by the second, although the small tinge of pink in his cheeks implied it was more of flusteredness than anything. “you were just - your costume for the show… you looked really pretty, and maybe i got distracted!”

too busy to tease him any further, you made an attempt to contain your laughter, alas, a rather vain attempt. “pretty, huh? i would have never guessed you’d be into jumpsuits and tophats. god, costume design for that gig was a hot mess.”

oboro crossed his arms in indignation, although the twitching of his lips quickly invalidated his serious facade, “well, you pulled it off really well. you should’ve heard yamada after, he tried to scold me for spilling his food, but he was too busy laughing at how red i was.”

“you’re too much, shirakumo.”

he blinked in confusion, “you know my name?”

now it was your turn to stutter, lips moving, although there were no words exactly coming out of them. “o-oh, it is? it’s actually a pretty common surname and, truth be told, it was just a wild guess-”

“hey,” a small voice crack cut his words short, “no, no - it’s okay, i know your name too!”

before you could attempt to bail out of the awkward predicament, an quiet purring interrupted the conversation, gradually becoming louder and louder. apparently, sushi saw it fit to doze off in your arms, no longer in any rush to mess with you or your studies.

a lifesaver in disguise.

“right, the kitten,” oboro seemed to be equally thankful for the adorable disturbance, moving closer to take sushi from your arms. “sorry for all the trouble this little troublemaker might’ve caused you, i’m still trying to find him a home.”

“can’t say he wasn’t a pain in the ass, but i’ll live,” you sighed, patting your shirt in hopes of shaking off sushi’s keepsake. all efforts were in vain though, cat hair doesn’t come off as easily. maybe this time it could serve as an alibi for your missing homework.

‘teacher, a cat tore my homework apart’ had a nice ring to it.

“well, i’ll see you around, loud cloud.”

oboro squeezed his eyes shut as you walked away, sushi nibbling on his arm pushing him off the edge. “wait, (y/n)!”

you stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the gremlin and his awfully cute owner.

“i was thinking,” he started, searching deep inside his heart for his trademark courage or wit, really anything that could save him. “i’m pretty sure my internship’s gonna be really close to yours, so maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?”

the loud ringing of the school bell muscled into your chat, leaving you with no other option than to scream your answer out.

“not gonna ask how you know where my internship is,” you joked, smirking at his own flustered grin. “but that sounds... good actually, maybe you could even help me with the homework handsome sushi over there stole from me!”

as students started to fill the hall, some more eager to get to class than others, your cloud friend snickered, his toothy smile serving as a goodbye, “it’s a date then.”

★ - check out the rest of my works!

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

The Colors of my Soul(mates) [1]

[Second oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. Okay, okay! I’ve plaining this AU for almost an year so I’m pretty excited to post it!! dfghjsdfrtyucfvgbhjv yaaaay!! Thank you very very much @olliedollie1204 for such a positive feedback and awesome ideas. it helped me a lot!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Virgil, Logan, Patton and Roman (only a brief mention of Remy) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Warnings: A bit of swearing and depreciative thoughts. It’s mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, tho.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

What can do a creature if not, between creatures, love? - Carlos Drummond de Andrade

- What the fu-

Virgil only discovered he had more than one Soulmate when he was twenty years old, more specifically the exact moment he took a wrong turn and kept going even knowing he was in the wrong way because one hour it would lead him to somewhere Virgil would recognize before his mortal being inevitably starved to death in the middle of nowhere and his eyes got dragged from the visions from thousands of futures created by his mind to a Teddy Bear Store - they seemed to replicate worse than bacteria during Valentine’s Day - and two bears from the crimson shelter suddenly dyed themselves in two milliseconds as he slightly glanced at them.

Two of them. Virgil felt his entire face burn in hot shades of embarrassment with drops of disbelief, almost as if all the people running, stumbling, locked in their own worlds and swearing while walked in the sideway because ‘some stupid teenager decided to just stop and block their way’ could, by only looking at him, stare deep into his soul and realize the one staring astonished the store already carried in his fate another one more Soulmate at home.

One completely different in shape and form, even if also blue, however in a light, sky blue completely opposite shade from the new navy one staring him down - Virgil knew plentily their link wasn’t bonded yet, albeit he was equally sure that the person behind those black glooming teddy bear’s eyes were already judging him, - wondering why, between all the people, he was their soulmate. The other red one was very much likely crackling in his face when an employee came and pointedly turn the adult’s attention to the sign in big, graphed words clued in front of their store:

“You dye, you buy.”

Virgil signed, pushing his hoodie down further, wondering how much time it would take of him hitting his head on the wall to finally pass out. This option sounded much more attractive when he realized that this new ‘discovery’ about himself would cost all his month’s saves.

He asked, to the Universe, the stars, the Earth and whoever was seeing him in that exact moment: why?

Was it a kind of prank? A punishment from fate when, years and tears ago, Virgil lifted his chin up and dared the Universe to give him more soulmates as he locked all his uncolored – although never really free of some weak drops of paint from what one day they came to be – simply stuffed animals, - and nothing more, anymore, - away and promised he would never, ever allow himself to go all through this shit again?

But… That had been… years ago. Almost a decade since that soft voice he got to know so well, the impulsive acts, long conversations and warm feelings.

But…

Time has passed, that is true. Nevertheless, deep down has he really changed?

Virgil stared at the bag carried so close to his chest since his bare hands were sweating and shaking way too much for this task. Yes, he knew his Soulmates won’t feel anything until both of them decided to ‘give the First Step’, accepting to link their souls and fates, for the longest as it lasts. However, he didn’t want to risk it, because what if they felt? What if he in some way broke the Soulmate System when got two at the same time and now everything was messed up and they could already feel his touches even through the bag and the first impression Virgil would gave to them was ‘That anxious, weird boy and his creepy, sweaty hands’ and-

A girl almost hit him as she passed running at his side, making his arms protectively hug further the teddy bears closer to him, arms protectively involving them, the soft touch somehow calming his tumulted thoughts. The lost man took a deep breath.

Clear your mind. Rational thoughts. Focus on the two sides of the coin. Three people wouldn’t be able to break a millennial, unknown system, don’t matter how good he was in screwin… No, a voice that sounded suspiciously a lot like his psychologist calmly pointed, not like that. Virgil huffed, trying again. He was a magnet of problems and bad…Okay, also wrong. Neutral thoughts, focus on neutral thoughts. Come on. Come on.

It was okay.

They wouldn’t feel him until they gave the first step. Right, that… sounded like a start. He didn’t do anything. Now, what Virgil needed to do was go to his house, clean his bed in order to find a good place where he could put and ignore them and then he would get his headphones, listen his playlists and wonder where the fuck his life was going.

It was okay. Everything would stay okay as long as he didn’t give the First Step.

Virgil unconsciously hugged tighter the teddy bears, his fingers finding way and drowning themselves in the soft, cozy fur, combing them in light, soothing touches as he continued his way.

Okay. Everything was okay.

[~*~]

Plurinfanto, or Multiple Souls, it’s the nomination used for the cases when a person has diverse soulmates at the same time and in a same period.

The first known case was with Pharaoh Cleopatra when multiples of her woolen fabric started to dye themselves in various colors and shades. In Ancient Roman, it was believed that the occurrences were blessings from Venus in a sign of prosperity and abundance. Grand, longstanding parties were executed through days nonstop in order to get together those intertwined souls. When the connection broke and the colors disappeared, it meant that days of pain and foreboding were waiting forward.

It is not known for certain the exact moment when the meaning changed, albeit researchers believe it was around the fall of the Roman Empire, when all the invasions resulted in a cultural reconstruction which led to the loss from much of their costumes.

CLICK HERE TO DISCOVER HOW TO HAVE THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS!!!!

[~*~]

The computer made a soft ‘click’ as Virgil closed it and sat on his bed, adjusting slightly his position to stare the three vivid, brilliant stuffed beings contrasting to the general dark theme of his room.

Virgil growled, resting his back on the cold wall, the shivers calming his flowing thoughts about all the variants this whole thing had. No to mention that people change with time, leading to the souls who they “relate” to change as well, meaning that you can have someone in your life for years and then, one month, or weeks or the next day, you can wake up only to discover you and the said person don’t “match” anymore.

And NO ONE talked about this just because it was a freak tabu to doesn’t have ‘an only one soulmate who will be with you until the end of your existence’. Oh, for fuck sake. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he accidently pulled some tangled strands. That sounds like a line of commercial, does anyone believe that bullshit for real?

“Hello dear, newer fellow!!” The popping thought broke his line of reasoning, jumping excitedly in his mind and automatically pulling him out of his wanders. It has a strong and full of… about everything, tune demanding attention. Virgil felt a warm kiss on his forehead, meaning one soulmate – a deep part of him turned his attention to the red colored teddy bear, - had given the First Step. The one who in some moment changed his position so now he was sitting on the floor felt his face get hot again, heart thumping strongly in his chest as his arm moved, fingers stopping inches away from the fur, questioning if he was ready to retribute the gesture.

[~*~]

Many history icons have reports of being Pluriers, as shown in the book ‘The Romance in the History of Those Who Wrote It’, by historian Henry Senyura. The subject is also beginning to gain more visibility after the protest from the teacher Joan A. in 2010, who got touched towards the situation of some of her pupils being forced to choose only one among their Soulmates for the six-month annual exchange, by the end of that period most of them lost or weakened their bonding due lack of communication, small changes of personality and continuous absence. She held a protest at the front of the school, stating that no one had the right to interfere in ‘matters of the heart’.

A lot of fiction works are beginning to address the topic more frequently, as in I’m Not One, a movie directed by Devon Stan; The Seven Colors of Rainbow, a book written by Lílian Lee and the psychological analysis Life’s Watch, recently found between drafts by the famous writer Robin Green, published after their husband’s authorization, Josué Green.

[~*~]

Logan hummed. As it seems, this was a relatively common thing, since the concept of Soul Mates surpassed the barriers of unity and time, being ‘souls who in a way or other intertwined themselves in some part of their life. Sometimes it didn’t necessarily mean a romantic relationship, as the majority of society and media pointed, but it also didn’t hold any assurance that all of them were platonic.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. Remy wasn’t in the dorm so everything was silent enough for him to hear his own thoughts.

It has been a remarkable amount of years since he got his last soulmates, - except for Remy, however they both considered this occurrence as a separate incident - well, until, of course, this day. At least it was a good thing he always carried in his bag extra easy manageable stuffed animals or else maybe the System would dye one of clothes, what would be less than ideal for him in the middle of his philosophy debate. But things got even more interesting when, after his classes, as he arrived at the small, pleasantly well-organized store next to his university, one more stuffed animal colored itself right before him.

He didn’t exactly understand why. Logan considered himself an owner of a… quite strong, strict personality, this added with his difficulty in managing his and one another emotions usually tended to bring some complex tribulations in his rela-

Anyway, that is beside the important matter. The one laying his chin on his crossed fingers undid his pose for a bite of time in order to adjust his glasses, barely fixating his gaze on the two plushies in the desk before him, his third – Pat - resting a few centimeters away, closer to Logan’s fingers, who were barely touching. Mind running. Asking, reflecting, wondering what was the exact amount of time to be acceptable to give his First Step?

‘The First Step’.

Logan never really understood from where and how that expression emerged. It didn’t come from the words’ etymology nor some semantic detour. His most concrete hypothesis consisted of the phrase being derived from old romances.

“Did you know it used to be called the ‘First Kiss’?! But that confused a lot of people who really believed that, to be able to talk and interact with their soulmates they would have to kiss each other, like the Sleeping Beauty! I always got confused in this movie when I was a child, by the way! That ended up messing with a bunch of relationships before they even started, since a lot of peeps don’t feel comfortable enough with strangers kissing them. However, they also speeded up a bunch of them as well…” Logan blinked, his attention escaping from his previous thoughts to the light sky blue plushie of Baby Yoda, for a moment surprised with the sudden input. He felt fingers carefully holding his arms and a bit of ghost movements as Pat probably moved his representation to somewhere else, a hug and warmth engulfing the one yet absolving the new information moments later.

“That was… enlightening.” His voice danced across the room. Even though he was completely aware they could chat telepathically, the childish act of saying the words out loud still comforted him, in a way. “Thank you for your contribution.”

He took a deep breath and closed the tab of research on his cellphone, internally thanking from the escaping of his turmoil of thoughts, his free hand carefully combing the Baby Yoda’s head fur, almost methodic.

“Looo, no!” The other protested with no heat in his tune, leading a toothless smile to resurface in Logan’s features. “Stop doing this. You know I end up sleeping every time!”

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” He deadpanned, already plugging his phones and changing to a most relaxed position on his chair, his eyes traveling across the countless movies on the device before him. “In which episode did we stop?”

“I’m going to fight you.” Pat sounded like he was pouting.

“How so?” Logan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

Silence followed his words.

“Pat?”

“What is the skeleton’s favorite instrument?”

“Pat, don’t you fucking da-”

“Language! It’s a xiloBONE!”

Logan audible growled, fast in his final decision. “I’m going to drop you out the window.”

“I’m going to hug you!” And immediately the one rolling his eyes felt himself being squished in a strong bear hug, huffing only half annoyed.

“You are an incorrigible heathen, let me go in this exact instant.” His answer was a ‘butterfly kiss’ – as Pat was fond in calling them – on his forehead. “Urg, affection.” Yet he smiled and mirrored the act, lightly poking the other’s side.

“We’re on episode 19.”

[~*~]

Roman stared the paper, his pencil’s tip stopped in the middle of the biggest petal’s flower, his eyes narrowing in the hope of a clearest way of how to convert the vague idea he had in transforming the night full of stars in a flower. No to tell he also would need to choose a good pallet of colors indication for it, later, and probably re-do all the process over and over and over until got the best result as possible. A yawn found its way from his lips and the designer stretched, getting up to drink a bit of water and rubbing his eyes, wondering if it was really worth it to make a black tea to help him through the night.

A glimpse of color caught his attention. The navy blue teddy bear on his couch, the main inspiration of his newest tattoo. Roman wondered why it wasn’t resting in front of him while he drew. A corner of his brain, obscured by the tiredness, telling he had a previous good reason for this choice although his actual self carried absolutely no idea of why.

Well, if he couldn’t remember it, it means the reason wasn’t THAT good, right?

Roman held the stuffed animal, spinning with it across the room for a couple of minutes, imagining who would be the person behind it. A king, a queen, a non-binary royalty? Did they like Disney? Musicals? Sing? Would they chat for hours at first with a few words exchanged or would they take a bit to warm at each other? Was navy blue their favorite color or…

Or…

Navy blue.

Oh.

He fixed his glare on the plushie, his hands feeling and slowly drawing in the soft fur of it.

Navy blue, huh? A humorless chuckled flew in the air. It could have no significance, it could be a world of it. It probably didn’t mean what he, for a moment, a so silly, stupid moment, wished it meant. Of course, one day this would happen, right? It was something normal, something expected. Not the magical, right out of the story books or his old daydreams, occurrence.

This wasn’t a second chance. The Universe doesn’t give you second chances. He wasn’t the same boy from eleven years ago, holding his own costumed teddy bear crying his eyes out, hugging he – No, it – the closest as possible, wishing with all his heart and soul for the color, the voice, the thoughts, the rambling, their bickering, the forgiveness to come back again.

No, he grew up. He moved on. He got better.

Then why did a part of him still felt this way? Like he was about to hear the excited giggles, the soft reprimand, that lovely, deep and so truly -and sometimes boring, Roman had to admit – questions? Why would a part of him still say that he could have it all again if he just… waited long enough, hoped high enough, dreamed long enough…

…If he was enough.

There aren’t more than seven billion colors in the world. Roman would be stupid if he really believed there was a path where he wouldn’t stumble in that so (un)fortunate well-known shade of blue again.

Roman growled, his forehead making a loud, dry thumping sound as hit his desk. The one who should be asleep hours ago had absolutely no energy to battle against those thoughts, again. At least for now. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the teddy bear laid on the cold tabletop before him. Well, what a better way to get rid of your own means thoughts than put some stranger’s unpredictable thoughts in the middle of it? Roman slightly pushed the bunch of flowers and some warmup sketches he had out of the way, carefully carrying the representation next to him, nodding. Honestly, that was the best idea he had for a while, why did he even put the lovely thing away?

Awake Roman was so silly, thinking that… something he couldn’t quite recall right now would be a bad idea, he pointed as snorted softly, pressing his lips on the teddy’s forehead, the quote he knew by heart flying from them in a natural flow.

“It is not immortal, since it’s flame. But let it be infinite while it lasts.”

A warm sensation rested on his own forehead moments later, leading the sleepy form to hum happily.

“Is it… poetry?” Oh shit, Roman widened his eyes. His soulmate heard that?? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Roman mentally facepalmed himself. So that was why he usually said it before the First Step!

“Uhh, yeah. Of course. Fidelity Sonnet by Vinícius Moraes.”

“I see. Classicism, I presume. A literature of very soundly pleasant rhymes, indeed. The first sonnet was probably created by the humanist Italian poet Francesco Petrarca, although it got even more known in the western literature after the works of Camões, who- ”

“He is from Modernism, actually.” Roman didn’t know why he suddenly sounded so defensive. Logan felt a cold feeling run his body when the other’s hands let go of him, for a piece of second wondering if it was supposed for him to do the same with the red narwhal plushie on his hold.

“A very common mistake to make due the lack of context.” He retorted, unable to formulate another answer. He had, of course, thought, balanced options and chosen the best topics to discuss with his new soulmates when they bonded. However, his fingers firmly gripped the pen, its tip tapping on the first topic written in the notebook partially forgotten in front of him, the poetry figuratively threw him out of his tracks, leading the decision to be the most impartial as possible due his… not so impartial past memories with that specific shade of red an even more difficult task than it already was.

“Yes. Sure. Sorry, I- I’m just… very tired right now.”

“You should go sleep, then.”

The other snorted with the direct, immediate response. “I should, shouldn’t I? Gotta work, though.”

Some part of Logan’s brain registered the new fact, separating and keeping it in a special place so he would remember to write it down in the new folder he bought, later.

“I see.” … poetry? That wasn’t a hard topic to talk about. The one now nervously cleaning the very clear lenses twisted his mouth. He could talk about this for hours. No, correction: he already had previously talked about this for hours non stop.

Logan strangely felt the urge to rub his face and scream. It has been years, - eleven years and 10 months to be precise – and exactly eight years since the one wearing glasses learned poetry because of him. Because of his constant habit of reciting Shakespeare before they would go to bed, until Logan brought himself to research and decorate all the poems he could muster, taking the task to now wake Prince – the name still carried a strong taste in his tongue – in the same way every single day. Before they realize, that becomes something between them. There were times when both didn’t talk, content in only reciting some verses and hear the other complete them. A part of Logan, that illogical and unfortunately full of feelings one wondered how their rap battles would be if they found each other right now.

Did Prince even maintain his liking the same things he one day did? Does he still recite poetry? Does he maintain the same dreams? The same habits? Does he even remember about him?

Highly improbable.

“You can call me Lo.”

Roman slowly blinked, getting out the fog surrounding his brain to realize he was mindless staring at the pan’s boiling water, surprised the other still there. Well, it seems like he hasn't screwed terribly everything yet.

“Lo? Like Lowrance?”

“Even though my name does contain ‘Lo’ in it, no. It’s ‘Lo’ like Logic. I came to believe it’s a good idea the nomination after a predominant characteristic, since we can’t actively exchange our real names through the Soulmate System.”

Roman’s breath hitched, a memory with yellow-ish edges and nostalgic smell unrolling in front of him.

…

‘I think we should choose you a name with more personality in it, ya know?’ He threw himself on his bed, kicking his legs on the air before immediately scoping the plushie and laying it on his stomach. ‘Like a characteristic!’

‘I don’t see what is wrong with the nickname I choose.’

‘No, no! There is nothing wrong with it! But that could be something just between us!’ Then he gasped, picturing that, if he was inside a movie there would be a lamp shining right above his hair in this moment. ‘We could call you Ro!! You wanted to be a robot, right?’

His soulmate growled and Roman felt a few pokes on his arm, the verbal protest doesn’t taking long before accompanying it. ‘I was three years old!’

‘And I’m never letting you live this down.’ He beamed, both knowing the annoyed scoff he got as response held no real heat. ‘Besides, we could even match our names!!’

‘That would be very counterproductive.’ Roman felt his hair being softly smoothed, a usual indication the other was losing himself in his thoughts. ‘Nicknames are supposed to help us. Having two equal names is not the most efficient thing.’

Roman dramatically scoffed, picking the stuffed animal and half hugging it, his free hand occupying itself in making a couple of gestures to no one, since his soulmate couldn’t exactly see them. ‘It’s not about being productive, Bear! It’s about feelings!!’

‘And since when,’ a light poke was delivered on his belly, making him squeak and mess with the teddy bear’s hair in revenge ‘Everything isn’t feelings for you, your highness?’

…

“Okay,” Roman and his self past disappearing with the fading memory said, in synchrony “You shall call me by Prince, then.”

Suddenly he felt himself falling, his hands quickly holding on the tabletop as the cold, nauseous feeling took over his stomach, more like a punch on it, his veins being filled with amounts of adrenaline for a glimpse of a second.

“Excuse me? Warn a guy next time you decide to just drop his representation, dude! Damn.” Roman shook himself, trying to bring his body to calm down.

“Sorry, I got… startled.” Logan gulped. The word ‘Prince’ echoing on his mind as a broken vinyl disc. What were the chances? That couldn’t be such a common nickname, right? Nor color. Nor interests. What were the chances? What could be the chances? Maybe he was just projecting, being played, tricked by a dangerous partnership between his own brain and emotions. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions due the nostalgic feeling fogging his actions, his thoughts. Perhaps-

“Hey, Lo? Are you there?”

“Yes.” Logan answered, his fingertips colliding quickly with the fabric of his pants as he visualized his options. “Yes, I am.”

“Hm. Okay, then. I’m… glad to know.”

Silence. Logan took a wobbly breath.

“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back; Wherein he puts alms for oblivion; A great-size monster of ingratitudes:”

“Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd; As fast as they are made, forgot as soon.” Roman continued without even noticing until the words danced in the air, just like the years haven’t passed.

Then he understood.

His heart stopped for a second, his eyes widening and his voice disappearing, as if his whole being was afraid to break the moment, the spell; as if this was a dream and a miscalculate step would make everything fade.

“Bear?” Roman felt a light poke on his cheek.

“Hello, Prince.”

Roman choked a laugh, quickly crawling the teddy bear next to his chest, hugging it both firmly and yet so caring, curling around its - no, him - feeling an equal warmth involve his form as he hided his face on the soft fur, giggling and hugging, feeling so happy, so alive and right and good and he would never, ever, ever again let him go.

“I missed you, bitch. Never scare me like this again.”

“I… missed you, as well.” Logan tried to not let the emotion take over his tune, his hand petting the narwhal plushie softly, the words had abandoning him, as it seems. “This reunion is a… good surprise.”

“Oh, shut up, I know you’re having a blast somewhere in that logic soul of yours, too.”

Logan huffed, grinning. “Stop crying on my hair, your troglodyte.”

“Make me, I dare you.”

“Always so dramatic.” They both rolled their eyes, letting the moment be bathed in the deep waters of a comfortable silence.

“Eleven years.”

“We have so, so much to talk about!! Oh, my goodness gracious, I’m going to get my tea. Do you remember about that play I wrote about zombie princes and a dragon witch? You will NOT fucking believe what happened with it!”

“Good thing I have you to explain to me then.” Roman stopped, a gigantic smile taking over his features as he closed his eyes to feel everything even more.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Somewhere in the world Patton and Virgil smiled during their sleep, unable to control themselves when a gigantic wave of pure joy and delight filled every corner of their hearts, coloring it on the most brilliant gleam, just like their stuffed animals resting peacefully on their grip.

19 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Truce

masterlist request guidelines requests are open ♥ per the usssual

this gif hit me in the face :/

pairing: draco x goldentriofriend!reader

request: yes! thank you :) sorry for not actually following the type of soulmate AU you wanted.....i took a creative plunge

summary: draco malfoy and the reader, while having rather tense relations before, are pushed into a strange situation and are forced to work together to get out of it. once they learn the reasoning behind their predicament, things are only complicated further.

warnings: cursing most likely because ~that’s me~ also there’s a mini anxiety attack (i don’t even know if it’s classified as that) so if that’s a trigger i don’t suggest reading this!

a/n: this is the longest fic i’ve writtten in one go and i also don’t have any beta readers or edit it closely, so i apologize for any errors i may have made. if you’re sick of soulmate aus, then this one may not be for you, but i tried to put a fresh spin on it instead of the run-of-the-mill names on their wrists/matching tattoos and whatnot.

music recs: please please please listen to the pride and prejudice soundtrack along with this! it pairs very well, especially with the songs living sculptures of pemberley, dawn, liz on top of the world, and leaving netherfield. so so so good. trust me on this one

word count: 8,596

Thursday morning. It was raining....again. Y/N was getting rather sick of the constant downpour that began the day earlier. She’d exhausted the use of drying spells and eventually stopped doing them--after all, there was no point in going through the trouble if she had to take the trek through the rain in just another hour.

Y/N was reminding her friends, Hermione, Harry, and Ron, of her plight as they walked to Potions.

“I can’t even imagine what would bring this weather onto us,” Y/N told the group, hoisting her robes up so they wouldn’t be dragged through another puddle.

“Can you cut it out?” Ron asked, rolling his eyes and pulling his cloak tighter around his body. “We’re all cold, we’re all wet, we’re all tired. I don’t want to think of it anymore than I have to.”

Hermione smacked Ron’s shoulder lightly, hissing a stressed be nice, Ronald! before turning back to Y/N.

“Be happy that it’s only been two days,” she told Y/N matter-of-factly. “I read in Hogwarts: A History that it once rained for 29 consecutive days. The weather surrounding the castle was temperate and per usual and no one ever found out why. The professors at the time hypothesized that someone got a little angry with the headmaster and messed with the weather. However, I believe...”

Y/N allowed Hermione’s analysis to take her where she wanted it to, instead choosing to study the various groups of students passing by. A group of 4th year Ravenclaws...uninteresting. She knew of some of their older Gryffindor siblings but had never spoken directly to them. A few strides behind, 2nd year Hufflepuffs were splashing around with a 5th year prefect, laughing and relishing the feeling of rain on their faces. Y/N couldn’t fight off the smile forming on her face--there was something about Hufflepuffs that inspired her to appreciate the present.

Then, as luck would allow, a much stormier group of students appeared around the corner: 6th year Slytherins, with, of course, Draco Malfoy at the very front of the pack.

Oh, how much she hated him.

He had a deep scowl etched into his face, his hood pulled taut over his blonde head. A few rogue strands of his hair were plastered to his forehead. Y/N chuckled to herself as the image reminded her of the Slytherin’s brief stint as a ferret in 4th year...except for this time, he resembled more of a drowned rat.

She decided to tell him as such.

“Oi, Malfoy, are ferrets allergic to water?” Her voice carried across the courtyard. Draco froze, his scowl deepening even further.

“What’d you just say to me?”

The Trio was behind Y/N in an instant, pulling back at her.

“Can we not start anything? Please?” Ron pleaded.

“Yeah, it’s too early for this,” Harry added. “Can you take a rain check?”

He yelled the last part out, clearly directing it at both Draco and Y/N.

Too late.

Draco was already in front of Y/N, his icy eyes ablaze.

“Maybe I should give you the same treatment,” he snapped, unsheathing his wand and rolling up his sleeves.

“Oh my god, he’s actually gonna do it Harry,” Y/N heard Ron whisper. “Are you gonna to help?”

“Listen, she got herself into it,” Harry mumbled back. “She could use this as a wake up call to not start any more shit.”

“Come on, Malfoy,” Y/N taunted, holding her empty hands out in front of her. “Do you even know the spell for that?”

“For your information, Transfiguration is one of my best subjects,” Malfoy snarled.

Oh. Now that she thought about it, Transfiguration was the only class he surpassed Hermione in. Sensing impending doom, Y/N reached for her own wand.

She hadn’t been holding it for more than a millisecond before she was disarmed, her wand falling down to the ground and just narrowly missing a deep puddle to her right. Flinching at the sight, Y/N bent down to snatch it up, praying that Malfoy would at least be a gentleman. She had no such luck.

She heard him begin to mutter something under his breath, no doubt the spell that would transfigure her into a ferret. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. He was really going to hex her while she was on the ground?

Y/N managed to jump up in time, abandoning her wand and instead dodging the spell by leaping to the side. Without her wand, Y/N only had one choice to save herself from the next attempt--she had to disarm him manually.

Before Malfoy could gather his bearings Y/N had sprung at him, her bare hands outstretched to knock his wand out of his arm. She was not successful--he jerked his hand out of the way before she could reach it. Instead, Y/N’s hands met the soft skin of Malfoy’s bare arm.

Pop!

The sound rang out, akin to the sound of apparition, but much louder, like everyone in the country decided to apparate at once.

Stunned, the two leapt away from each other. Y/N’s first instinct was to locate her wand, which she did without much trouble.

When she was sturdy on her feet again and ready to fight, she noticed something incredibly strange--not only was Malfoy not rapidly firing hexes at her, everything was completely silent, except, of course, the heavy breathing of Malfoy across from her. He was just as stricken as she was, but his eyes were darting around the scene surrounding him.

The first definite clue that something had happened was the rain. It was no longer falling--but that isn’t to say that the sky had cleared up. No, instead, the drops were stalled in the air, almost like what raindrops looked like when they hit the window if they were suspended in midair.

The second clue was the fact that no one was moving. The whirlwind of motion that had surrounded them in the instances before had halted. Curious, Y/N turned to her friends. Hermione was frozen, her wand up and pointing at Malfoy with a determined expression on her face.

Y/N would’ve smiled, pleased to know that her friends wouldn’t really leave her to be hexed without any help after all, but the situation was far too strange. Her best friend’s eyes were wide and unblinking. A raindrop that had just bounced off her hood was hovering above her brow, the silvery fragments levitating next to it.

“What is this?” Y/N’s voice had lost all previous conviction as the statement broke the crippling silence.

“I...er.....I don’t know.” Malfoy shifted his weight back and forth, deciding to flip his hood off his head now that it wasn’t being assaulted by rain. The fabric collided with the still raindrops above him. Y/N watched as the water fell into motion, pummeling back down to the ground.

“Maybe if we touch everyone, they’ll unfreeze,” Y/N offered.

Malfoy looked like he had something nasty to say in response, but he quickly closed his mouth before jogging over to his friends. He roughly poked Zabini, jumping back directly after to gauge his reaction.

Nothing. Zabini’s body swayed away from Malfoy’s jab, but he did not spring back to life.

“That was a horrid idea, Y/L/N,” he snapped.

“And yet you tried it!” Her frigid hands curled to fists at her sides. “This isn’t my fault!”

“That’s not true!” Malfoy fired back. “The last thing you did before...this...happened was grab my arm! That triggered it!”

“I wasn’t the one trying to hex someone with their back turned!”

The two continued sparring, yelling various insults back at each other and shifting the blame. Eventually, Y/N ran out of venomous things to say and just stood there, her cloaked chest heaving and her fists clenched tight.

“Are you done now?” Malfoy taunted, twirling his wand around his fingers.

“Are you?”

The pair glared at each other. Y/N took note of the fact that they had taken a few steps closer to each other during the yelling match and immediately felt uncomfortable with the proximity.

“What are we going to do?” she asked wearily as she took a step back. “Obviously this has something to do with the two of us...unless this is an elaborate prank pulled on us.”

“A prank!” Malfoy straightened up, a relieved smile on his face. “Exactly! It has to be a prank!”

Y/N furrowed her brow, shaking her head at him.

“You’re an idiot! How could so many people freeze at once! And look at that 2nd year--she’s frozen in midair!”

They both turned to where she was pointing to see a young Hufflepuff floating over a puddle.

“Plus, who would even want to prank us like this? It’s not very fun.” She drew her pointed hand back, crossing her arms instead.

“Well, gee, I don’t know, people don’t like either of us very much,” Malfoy said, his voice annoyingly void of expression.

“What do you mean they don’t like me? It’s you they have a problem with!”

Malfoy shrugged, reaching up to unstick the wet hair on his forehead before flipping the soaked strands back onto his pristine blonde head.

“I don’t know. I’m just brainstorming.”

She glowered for a few moments, refusing to let him off.

“Ok, princess, what would you like me to do?”

The pet name startled her out of her disgruntled state.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re standing there acting like you want me to do something,” Malfoy pointed out. “So, in interest of shutting you up, what is it?”

“Well, I’d certainly like to get back into a world where my friends are acting like they’re alive, yeah?” Y/N tilted her head at him and raised an eyebrow. “But I don’t know if I want to deal with such an intolerable partner such as yourself.”

Malfoy bristled up.

“I’d like nothing more as well. Can we just...call a truce? For the time being, until we get out of here.”

What? Y/N stood frozen as the rest of her classmates in that moment, her brain refusing to comprehend what her enemy had just told her. A truce?

“You mean it?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“You’d think I’d say--” Malfoy stopped himself before he let out another biting remark, huffing dramatically instead. “Yes. I do.”

“Okay then.” Y/N stepped forward, extending her hand and tucking her wand back into her pocket. “Let’s start out simple. Maybe if we touch again, the world will return to normal.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything back, instead reaching his own hand out to grasp hers in a handshake.

“But,” he interjected, right before their hands met, “The truce ends when this situation does.”

“Deal.”

With that, they shook hands. Y/N was overjoyed when she felt an airy, light feeling in her stomach, almost like someone had set off sparks inside her at the meeting of their skin. It seemed as though Malfoy felt it too, as he glanced eagerly around at their surroundings. Y/N followed suit, dragging her eyes away from the blonde Slytherin and praying to see movement resume around them.

Nothing. Everything was still, and the thick, deafening silence hung in the air between them.

“Okay, so it isn’t reversed like that,” Y/N pointed out rather lamely. “What next?”

“Do you think time has stopped?” Malfoy suddenly butted in, ignoring her previous question.

“Well...” Y/N thought for a moment. “Yeah. That’s what I assumed. Do you think it could be anything else?”

“Let’s go find a clock,” he suggested. “I would think that time has stopped, but if it’s a prank, then it probably hasn’t...that would take immense and mature magic to do.”

“Okay.”

♥♥♥♥

It took a while to locate the big grandfather clock that Malfoy insisted was always on time, no matter the occasion. Malfoy kept saying “no, nevermind, other corridor” and grabbing her arm to pull her in another direction.

The most horrifying aspect of their trip was the sheer amount of still students and even faculty that they passed by. McGonagall was in the middle of lecturing a rowdy group of 3rd years, her crooked index finger pointed at them in emphasis.

Y/N found it hard to believe that such an esteemed woman would stoop to the level of a prank this concerning, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try pleading with her.

“Please, Professor,” she whined, turning her head as Malfoy dragged her down the hall. “If this is a prank, please make it stop. I don’t understand why this is happening...”

Malfoy scoffed.

“You really think McGonagall is going to do us any favors when I’m with you? You’re even more daft than I thought.”

Y/N shoulder bumped him aggressively, sending him a sour look.

“Truce, remember?”

Sighing dramatically, Malfoy just steered her down another side corridor, one she had never been down before.

“Ah, here it is.”

Malfoy cast a quick Lumos to observe the clock in the dim corridor and was cemented into his beliefs when he noticed that the second hand was completely stationary.

“Yeah, time’s stopped alright,” he reported, extinguishing his wand. “This probably isn’t a prank.”

He watched in shock as Y/N slumped to the ground by the wall, holding her head in her hands.

“What is it?”

“I can’t believe this is happening to me, of all people!” she exclaimed, vividly enunciating her words with her hand movements. “I’ve never done anything bad, I follow most of the rules, I’m only occasionally a pain in the arse, and now suddenly I’m stuck in a...glitch in the matrix or something, with you none the less!”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

“Truce, remember?” He took extra care to imitate the exact way she said just a few moments ago.

“It’s not an insult, it’s just the truth!” Y/N cried out. “You sure as fuck know how much you torment me and my friends on stuff we can’t change!”

Females. This was why Malfoy never lasted in relationships--girls were different. You couldn’t just treat them like trash and expect them to forget about it.

“Can we please just focus on the task at hand right now? You can yell at me all you want after this is all sorted out.”

Y/N lifted her head from her knees to glare at Malfoy. Perhaps it was just the low lighting that was messing with him, but he thought he could see the slight gleam of unshed tears in her eyes.

“Why? We apparently have all the time in the world,” she countered. “And plus, what if we never get out? What if I’m stuck in this with you forever?”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, leaning on the wall opposite of hers.

“We can’t afford to think like that right now,” he told her. “There has to be a reason behind this. People don’t get wrapped up in these things randomly without us knowing about it.”

“But what if the world is going on as normal right now? What if we just disappeared?” Y/N’s voice struggled to hold in a sob.

“Are you joking?” Malfoy scoffed. “You seriously think that I could go missing without someone noticing?”

“Please, Draco! Stop!”

“Stop...what exactly?” He sunk down to the ground as well. They would’ve been eye level with each other if Y/N wasn’t hung between her knees. “And why did you call me Draco?”

“Is that seriously what you’re concerned about right now?” Y/N wailed. “Whether or not I used your surname? Are you kidding me? We’re in the middle of a crisis!”

Malfoy couldn’t help it--he let out a small chuckle.

“What are you laughing about?”

“A crisis? Really?” He pushed his laughter back, leaving just slight amusement on his face. “I could think of plenty of girls that would consider this a blessing.”

“You’re deranged.”

“Truce!”

“Fuck you.”

Y/N stood up, brushing her robes off as she began to stride off down the corridor they came from.

“Where are you going?” Malfoy called, getting on his own feet as well.

“I’m going to find out how to get out of here,” she responded, raising her voice so it would carry. She didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder. “And since you’re so difficult, I want to do it by myself. Come find me when you want to behave.”

Her figure disappeared as she turned a corner, leaving Malfoy to sort out his own feelings.

Why had that hurt him?

♥♥♥♥

While she was afraid, Y/N couldn’t hide the fact that she was overwhelmed with possibility. If she truly had all the time in the world, then maybe she could read all the books in the library, or study for all of her N.E.W.T.S, or...she shut off the naughtier thoughts. If she had no moral backbone, perhaps she would go around messing with the frozen people surrounding her, but she knew that was a bad idea. Even suspending the concern for basic human decency, she knew full well that Draco was going to try and unfreeze time. If he managed to do so while she was in the middle of mussing up Parkinson’s hair, she would be brutally slaughtered.

So, naturally, she began to make her way to the library. Y/N’s first instinct would be to ask McGonagall for help, but she was clearly not a viable option, so studying and perusing books would have to suffice.

But what would she even search for?

The silence finally felt natural once she stepped into the library. There were a few students frozen in their spots, but not enough to disturb Y/N anymore than she already was. Madam Pince was at her desk, holding a book just inches above the table.

“Looking for something?”

The sudden sound made Y/N leap in the air as Draco appeared around the corner, holding a few books in his hands.

“You git!” she hissed. “Keep it down!”

“Or what? Madam Pince will throw me out?” His lip quirked.

Y/N let out a nervous laugh.

“Oh...guess you’re right.”

He rolled his eyes, turning his back to her to head back over to a bookshelf and shooting an “Am I ever not?” over his shoulder.

She chose to skip over the general Arithmancy, Charms, and Potions sections and headed straight for the restricted section. Without Pince to stop her, she’d finally have free rein, something she had never had before. Momentarily, Y/N was happy, even if it meant that she had to freeze time for it.

Y/N worked diligently, skimming through every book on the shelf. Nothing mentioned instances of time stopping under the conditions that occurred for them--rather, she read a fair bit on time turners and the like. But nothing, absolutely nothing, offered any information regarding time freezing over something as simple as a touch.

She was incredibly disappointed. If she were to choose any section that would help her with obscure magic, it would be the Restricted section, and even it managed to fail her this time.

The familiar rope of anxiety tightened around her throat, and suddenly she was fighting for her access to oxygen. Her breaths became shallow pants as she braced herself against the bookshelf.

Calm down, calm down, breathe, breathe.

“Oh, shit, Y/N, are you okay?”

A flash of blonde appeared in her peripheral, dashing towards her. The sudden movement should’ve startled her, but for some reason, the prospect of having a moving, breathing human with her was more comforting than anything. Even if she hated his guts. Even if he just recently tried to transfigure her into a ferret.

Y/N found herself unable to respond, instead choosing to focus on chanting her inner mantra of in, out for each breath she took. She could see that he was much closer now, sidled up to her left shoulder.

“It’s me, Y/N, you’re okay,” he told her, reaching up a hand to grasp her shoulder. It wasn’t necessarily the sweetest gesture, but the amount of pressure was just enough to ground Y/N and keep her breaths from shallowing into frantic gasps.

She nodded, still not trusting her voice to work. A pale hand that was not her own reached up to push a strand of hair out of her face.

I’ve really done it this time she thought. I’m so off my rocker that I’m hallucinating Draco Malfoy being nice to me.

Her eyelashes began to flutter closed as she swayed and lost her balance. This was new--any time she had felt too overwhelmed in the past, she had only gotten breathless and a little lightheaded, never actually woozy.

She attempted to use her voice to tell Draco that she needed to sit down, but it betrayed her, her statement coming out as a string of mumbles.

“What was that?” She could see his face, granted, it was fuzzy, but even she could decipher the concern etched into his face.

“I need to sit down,” she finally got out, barely hearing herself.

Realization flowed into Draco, and within seconds his arms were around her, guiding her way to the ground. Y/N was a tad shaky on the way down, but she managed to keep her head on straight. Once she was indisputably sitting on the floor, Draco retracted his arms and sat up straight, watching as she leaned back into the bookshelf and cast her eyes to the ceiling, breathing shakily.

He knew better than to push for an answer at the moment, so he waited for her to offer an explanation.

It didn’t take her long to regain her strength. Blinking the cloudiness out of her eyes, she leaned forward and looked Draco in the eyes.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Truce.”

At some point in time, Draco had sat down opposite of her, his knees drawn to his chest, mirroring Y/N’s position. The aisle was cramped enough for their knees to brush every time one of them shifted, and she wasn’t so sure that she minded that. Not anymore.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Draco asked gently, reaching out a hand to place on her knee. He told himself that it was simply to steady her--nevermind that she looked fine and was no longer swaying anymore. He was just a gentleman like that.

“Er...” She swallowed, looking up at the ceiling so she wouldn’t need to meet his eyes. If he saw her now, he’d know just how afraid she was. “I was searching this section, hoping to find something, and I didn’t, and the Restricted section has everything and I realized that if it’s not in here then it’s probably nowhere and no one knows and even if they did they could’ve help us because they’re frozen--”

“Y/N, breathe,” Draco commanded, letting his fingers spread to hold onto her knee a little firmer. “It’s all going to be okay. The Restricted section only would’ve helped if this was Dark Magic, or had some kind of offensive secret behind it. It doesn’t feel like that, does it?” He motioned to the air around them.

Y/N had to agree. She was scared, but at the same time, she didn’t feel like she was in immediate danger. There was no essence of evil around.

“Have you found anything?”

“No, but I’ve only searched the History section. I didn’t find much in there. There were a few odd mentions about time stopping, but I didn’t really get what they were referencing...they were all very old books.”

Y/N nodded.

“Do you want to check Divination next? Just in case.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I can’t say that I’m enthused, but I guess that we have no choice but to do so.”

He jumped to his feet before Y/N could start moving, extending a hand out to her.

“I just got overwhelmed. I’m not going to die,” Y/N grumbled.

“You’re the only company I have,” Draco responded. “How do you think I’d feel if something happened to you?”

With that, he snatched her hand himself and pulled her up, albeit very carefully to her pleasant surprise.

♥♥♥♥

Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to skim a good portion of the books for anything regarding the freezing of time. Y/N was beginning to lose hope as they neared the final section.

Sensing her worry returning, Draco stepped closer to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“We still have the entire library to search,” he soothed, his thumb moving in a tight, slow circle. “Don’t worry.”

Against her better judgement, she leaned back into him, allowing him to support her weight as her eyes squeezed shut.

“How are you not scared?”

“How do you know that I’m not?”

“Truce.”

Draco immediately backed down.

“Sorry. You’re just so easy to disagree with.”

Y/N giggled--actually giggled, to her horror--and attempted to distract herself from the embarrassment by engrossing herself in the next book she had pulled down. Draco had turned back around and was reading his own finding.

Her eyes, tired from the mounds of books she had skimmed before, lazily flicked over the table of contents before seeing a title that stopped her in her tracks.

When Time Freezes, 394

Y/N quickly flicked to the page, her heart beating fast. Could this be it?

It was.

“Draco, Draco, I think I’ve found something!” she cheered, spinning around to grab him. He snapped his own book closed and peered over her shoulder.

Together, they scanned the page, and together, their faces paled and jaws dropped.

“So...we’re soulmates? And that’s even a thing?”

Draco had moved away from her, leaving a few feet in between them. It seemed appropriate given how surprised he was, but still. The desired distance stung Y/N a little, but she was determined not to show it.

“Ridiculous, I’ve never heard of ‘soulmates’ being anything but a fantasy some people get wrapped up in.” Draco’s mouth twisted back into a scowl. Y/N realized that that was the first time he’d frowned ever since they’d begun to work together.

“It makes sense that you wouldn’t,” Y/N prodded. “It’d be such a rare phenomenon...it doesn’t discriminate on whether or not you’re a wizard or a muggle, it doesn’t care if your soulmate is halfway across the world and will never meet you. It doesn’t care if your soulmate dies when you’re both children. To meet a soulmate, even if it was real, would be such a rarity that of course no one would speak of it...with 7 billion people on earth, how would you know?”

Draco nodded begrudgingly.

“So, instead, time just freezes until you can figure this out?”

“It says right here that in ancient times, before humans had moved all across the world, it was much more common and it that was fabled to have inspired the phrase about how one’s heart stops when they see someone they love. And I assume the frozen time, triggered by the first time their bare skin touches, is offered to give the pair time to connect, and er....naturally perform the act that would unfreeze time without even knowing why time is frozen.” Y/N’s cheeks grew embarrassingly hot and she was sure that Draco could see it.

“And...what exactly is that? I didn’t read that far.”

“You have to....” Y/N swallowed and closed her eyes for bravery, “...kiss the other person.”

She wished that she hadn’t looked so pathetic, sitting there with her flaming cheeks over nothing but a kiss.

The sound of laughter broke her out of her pity party.

“What’s so funny, Draco?”

“You’re this flustered by a...kiss? Seriously?” He was doubled over, his hands supporting his weight on the bookshelf. “You’re joking, right? This is no big deal. We just do it, forget about it, and move on, yeah?”

“I thought you’d be less agreeable about it,” Y/N confessed, her face impossibly red.

“I mean, on a normal day, I might have reservations, but I’d do just about anything to get back to normalcy. I don’t think I can take this much longer.”

Y/N felt an unexpected dagger twist in her heart. It was really that bad to spend time with her?

“Of course, let’s just get it over with,” she choked out, hoping that he didn’t see how conflicted she was.

“No, not yet.”

Y/N knit her brows together in confusion.

“We need to be back in the courtyard! If we’re there one second and gone the next, people will have suspicions,” Draco explained slowly.

“Oh...yeah, I forgot.”

♥♥♥♥

On the walk back, Draco laid out very clear rules--if this worked, neither of them would speak about it again. His reasoning was that every married couple he knew weren’t soulmates--if they were, they would’ve said so.

“So, it shouldn’t matter much whether or not we’re soulmates,” he rationalized. “You’re a muggleborn, I’m a Malfoy, this just isn’t going to work out. I’ll go off and marry a pureblood, you’ll go off, and...”

His voice trailed off, and Y/N was suddenly hyper-aware of the lump forming in her throat. All the affection that he had shown to her...fake, just simply the product of their bizarre circumstances. She had thought for a second that he... but she should’ve known better than to trust his kindness; it was all a front.

“What’s the matter, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“You didn’t have a biting remark to my slight,” he pointed out, shooting her a curious look.

“I’m just distracted,” she lied, dragging her fingernails across her palms.

“What could be more enthralling than the fact that we’re about to unfreeze time!” He gestured grandly to the still students around them. They had arrived to their original spot and life as she knew it was about to resume. So why did she feel so bad?

“I don’t know, the fact that the universe thought that we were a perfect match for each other?” Y/N was horrified by the squeak her voice had become. “And the fact that you’re acting like it doesn’t matter?”

Draco shoved his hands back into his pocket, seeming to be deep in thought for a few moments.

“Soulmates are dated,” he finally offered. “Even if you are my soulmate--”

“I am.”

“Still.” His face was stony, expressionless. “We’d never work out. Not in my family. And after all, do you mean to tell me that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone who almost transfigured you into an animal against your will?”

“I...er...I...” Y/N’s tongue suddenly seemed too large for her mouth. He’d really backed her into a corner, and judging by the way he was observing her, he damn well knew it. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps it’s better that we just don’t think about it anymore.” He took hold of her hand, gently leading her over to where they had been standing. “Throw your wand on the ground.”

Y/N did as instructed, letting go of his hand in the process.

“And you, put your hood back on,” she said, pointing at his head.

He did so without complaint.

“So this is it, then,” Y/N stated, a little part of her hoping that he would correct her. “We’re going back to our fighting. The truce is over. And we’re going to pretend like we aren’t destined for each other?”

“If soulmates really were destined for each other, then why do none of them meet?”

Y/N prayed that Draco thought that the wetness on her cheeks was from walking through the sheets of still rain. Perhaps if she kept telling herself that, she’d believe it too.

“Oh, and, Malfoy?” She was bitterly pleasured when he saw the hurt flash in his eyes with the usage of his last name. “Roll up your sleeves, will you?”

Poking his wand in his pocket, he made quick work of the job while Y/N attempted to pretend like he didn’t look like the most precious thing when he had his hood on.

“Okay, so,” he began awkwardly once his sleeves were taken care of, “You’re going to grab my forearm the way you were before, and I’m going to lift my other hand to cover our faces from my side...”

Y/N drowned out the instructions, instead suddenly panicking at what she was about to do.

“...and....Y/L/N, are you even listening to me?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Is something wrong?” She hated the way his eyes shone with what a bystander--or anyone, really--could interpret as genuine worry. She knew better now.

“I just...” Her breath caught. She had no reason to be confiding anything in him, but for some reason, the confession left her before she could veto the idea. “I didn’t imagine my first being like...”

She trailed off, giving up on finding the words to fit her inner turmoil. Draco’s ice blue eyes widened with amusement.

“You haven’t kissed anyone before?! I can’t say that I’m shocked.”

“No need to rub it in.” Y/N looked up at him with the nastiest glare that she could muster, which, unfortunately, was pathetic at best.

“Don’t worry, I’m good enough for the both of us,” he joked, placing her hand on his forearm. “Just shut your eyes. It’ll be over before you know it.”

He gazed down at her, waiting for her venomous objection. When it didn’t come, he took one step closer to her. “You ready?”

Y/N only had time to croak a weak “yeah” before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was wetter than she expected--but then again, the tears running down her cheeks had gained enough momentum to moisten her lips, and the rain certainly hadn’t done her any favors either.

Draco was right; he really did know what he was doing. It was all she could do to grip onto his forearm and allow him to lead. It began gentle enough, just the tender interlocking of his enviably soft lips and her inexperienced ones. Then, in a moment of bravery, his got more insistent, prying at hers tentatively, encouraging her to open them.

She was clinging onto his robes with her free hand, twisting them around and pulling him closer as her tears continued to flow. The salty taste of the kiss gave her away, but she had passed the limit of caring. It was all about to be over, anyways, and Draco had made it more than clear that he had no interest in having her.

Instead of giving into his demands, Y/N steeled herself and pushed him off her.

Pop!

The shrill sound bounded through the courtyard as Y/N bent down, snatching up her wand and pointing it back to a very shocked Malfoy.

“Try that shit on me again,” she spat, hoping that the now falling rain was disguising the wetness on her face. “I dare you. I will ruin you.”

He snarled.

‘Forgive me. I should’ve known better than to waste my time engaging with you, anyways.”

With that, he spun on his heel, turning back to the now breathing group of Slytherins. They were walking out of sight before Y/N could even comprehend what she had done. Had she just imagined all of that? No, that didn’t make any sense. She knew what happened, and she wasn’t a lunatic.

“Y/N, never do that again!” Harry exclaimed, rushing towards her and holding her face in his hands. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Y/N sucked in a shaky breath, gazing up at Harry’s green eyes that were filled with actual worry, the exact thing that Draco lacked.

“I’m okay. Just tired. I don’t know why I did that...I’m sorry.”

She exhaled the apology, managing a weak smile to reassure the boy.

“Can we go to Potions now? The sooner it’s over, the sooner we get to lunch,” Ron complained a few feet away.

Y/N’s smile grew into a larger one as she was reminded of why she chose her friends after all.

♥♥♥♥

Y/N wished that Potions was filled with awkward eye contact and sexual tension...but unfortunately, Draco was treating her exactly as he had previously. Maybe she really was batty. Maybe she really had hallucinated it all.

But one touch to her tingling lips reassured her that she was not loony, and it was only when she brushed her fingertips over them that she noticed a certain blonde boy watching her out of the corner of her eye. The pit in her stomach that had existed since the kiss deepened.

Why did she feel so gross all of a sudden?

In the end, he did not try to talk to her and he most certainly did not try and make peace. Y/N was left to brew in her own confusion, but thankfully, she knew what to do.

After class, she took Hermione aside, telling Harry and Ron that she had “lady struggles” that she wanted to discuss. They both awkwardly nodded and dashed off, leaving the two to their own devices.

“‘Mione,” she began. “So, you know how Malfoy and I kind of...went at it in the courtyard this morning?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and nodded. “And?”

“And, something else happened. I better show you; are you alright coming to the library with me?”

“Am I ever not alright with a trip to the library?” Her face cracked into a smile as the two made their way up to the library.

Y/N tried not to wince as they passed the corridor with the clock. The hole inside her sent pangs through her heart.

♥♥♥♥

“Divination? Er...” Hermione sent her a quizzical look as Y/N pointed to the section she had spent a considerable amount of time in that morning.

“Please just trust me,” Y/N breathed, dragging her friend as she desperately searched for the book. If she found it in the place they--well, her and Draco--had left it, then she would have concrete proof that it was real and not some weird daydream.

Her fingers pulled at a spine that looked suspiciously familiar, rejoicing when she recognized the cover.

“It’s this one, Hermione! Page 394! Read it, please!”

She thrust the book into her friend’s arms before she could contain herself, watching as she skimmed the pages, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“That’s what happened to me this morning,” Y/N told her. “I know that I must sound ridiculously mad, but it happened, and I just don’t know what to do, and now that it’s over, I just have this weird empty feeling inside of me...”

Hermione’s eyes were wide, and, for once in their lifetime, she didn’t look like she quite knew what to do.

“Tell me more. I want to understand.”

So, Y/N recounted the tale of the morning to her, attempting to gloss over the moments where Malfoy was especially soft but noticing that Hermione’s eyebrow cocked higher every time it was mentioned.

“So, he kissed you?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, and I liked it,” Y/N choked out, fighting back a fresh wave of tears.

“I believe you.”

“What?”

“I said, I believe you.” Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m shocked that Draco Malfoy has found a match in anyone, but I love you, and you know that, so if he’s worthy of you...then maybe he’s not as bad as I originally thought.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Y/N argued. “It doesn’t matter whether or not he’s worthy of me. He’s not interested because I’m a muggleborn...but he’s my soulmate, Hermione! How am I supposed to get over this and forget about it? And that empty feeling inside of me is just getting worse by the minute, like this chronic homesickness...”

Hermione allowed Y/N to weep on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around her midsection and holding her close.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’ll all turn out alright in the end,” she soothed. “There’s more to life than love anyways. You have great friends, talent, brains, a loving family...”

Her hand stroked through Y/N’s hair as she began to calm. Y/N sat up, offering Hermione a weak smile in return.

“What would you do if you were me?”

Hermione sighed, clearly expecting the question.

“Well...I wouldn’t give up. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself, either, though. If I were you, I’d tell him how you feel at the moment and see what he says. If he still doesn’t want you, then that’s that and I’d count my losses and decide to start a business to fill the void.”

“Want to be business partners?”

Hermione just shrugged.

“We should go eat, you look weak. Perhaps you should send him a note, get him to meet you somewhere.”

Y/N smiled gratefully at her as they made their way to the Great Hall, hand in hand.

♥♥♥♥

She couldn’t bring herself to write the letter. The furthest she ever got was to the second line of the parchment...always beginning with a

“Dear Dra Malfoy, I can’t stop thinking about you and I want to see you again and I’m willing to forgive you for the past..”

She crumpled up the parchment before the ink even had a chance to dry, no doubt smudging the hastily scrawled words to the point of no repair.

There was no way around it. Y/N was never going to be able to send that letter, much less write it.

She needed a walk to clear her head. The cold air always helped, and when it rained, feeling the droplets on her face grounded her.

Slipping out of bed and padding quietly out of her dorm and common room, she was immediately hit with the rush of cold air. It was cooler than Y/N expected--normally when it rained in Scotland, the humidity in the air kept it from getting too frigid, but it was positively chilling outside.

She paid no mind to where her feet were taking her, accepting the fact that she was along for the ride. They seemed to have a purpose...she was no longer dawdling in the halls like normal; instead, her legs were briskly carrying her down into the lower floors of the castle.

The dungeons. Of course, how could she have been so shocked.

Y/N couldn’t be sure where the entrance was--she couldn’t see the door, after all, it only appeared once one uttered the correct password, but she just knew. There was no explaining it, it was just a fact that Y/N felt as sure about as she was her own name.

She stood there for a while, studying the stone of the wall and imagining Draco coming in and out, going about his everyday life casually, without a care in the world for her feelings. She couldn’t help but wonder if Draco had even considered honoring their destiny as soulmates.

“Give me a sign, please,” she whispered, not talking to anyone in particular. “Tell me whether I should try. I’ll leave him alone if you tell me to. I promise.”

Silence. Dead silence, just like when time had frozen, but she knew better. It was just the middle of the night and she was in the castle’s dungeons...the only people out of bed were tired prefects patrolling.

Speaking of which, footsteps broke the silence as they descended the staircase leading to Y/N’s corridor. She sat frozen in the hallway, unaware of where she could go. There was really only one way out of the dungeons that she knew of--the way that the footsteps were coming from.

Her only other option was to hide, and quickly. Thankfully, there was a tapestry covering an alcove and window that no doubt looked into the lake. She bolted behind it, hoping that she didn’t make too much noise.

The footsteps grew closer, allowing Y/N to hear the conversation going on between the mystery people.The empty hole in her stomach tugged.

There were two distinct male voices, one more painfully familiar than the other.

“--and thanks again for agreeing to help me get into the library at this hour. I completely forgot that that old bat wanted us to write an essay on this obscure Divination thing.”

Draco.

“Anytime.” Y/N could identify the second male voice as Theodore Nott, another Slytherin who was tight with Parkinson and Zabini.

“I think I’m gonna take a walk, so don’t wait up for me,” Draco said. Y/N wished that she could see him.

“Whatever you say.”

Nott murmured something under his breath, and the sound of stones softly moving apart filled the air.

Once he had stepped inside the common room, the stone sounded like it moved back into place.

Y/N had no chance to breath a sigh of relief, because just as she was about to let out a shaky exhale, she realized that a tall, slender shadow was standing right in front of her tapestry. A wand was poked around to the edge before it moved the tapestry away to reveal her hiding spot.

“What, are you planning on jumping me or something?” Draco asked, his eyebrows shooting up in inquisition.

Y/N felt her cheeks burning. Merlin, why couldn’t she do anything but blush when she was around him?

“Can you speak?” His words were deliberately slow and taunting.

“You know the answer to that,” she bit back.

“Ah, gotcha!” His face lit up briefly. “You know, that’s the easiest way to break the ice with you...get you mad.”

“I’m not mad!” Y/N huffed,

“I rest my case.”

“Arsehole!”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re standing outside my common room at 1 on a Friday morning?” He studied her for a second, seeming to realize that she was going to remain stubbornly silent no matter what he did.

“Fine. If you won’t talk, I’ll find another way.” Draco pocketed his wand, moved the tapestry away further, and sat down on the windowsill with Y/N beside him.

It was an insanely close fit--the windowsill was probably not even meant for one person. Y/N attempted to ignore the fact that their legs had been forced to tangle in the process of Draco sitting down.

“I was taking a walk,” Y/N told him. “And I ended up here before I heard you coming. I wasn’t sure if you were Filch or Snape or something, so I hid. Your point?”

If he seemed unsatisfied with the answer, he didn’t show it.

“Pity. And here I was, thinking that you were showing up at my doorstep, begging for me to reconsider my prior decision on...us.”

“Did I ever say I wasn’t?” Y/N dared. “I wasn’t planning on begging, though.”

There. There it was--a deep red blush that spread over his pale face.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Y/N grumbled. “This is weird, very weird, and I didn’t ever think that in a million years I would be pining after Draco Malfoy, but I guess things change. I’ve been--”

“Pining after me, huh?” His eyes had a dangerous glint in them.

“Besides the point. I actually came here because I wanted to.....ehm....” Y/N cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you that I was having trouble moving past the whole soulmates thing without a hitch. It hurts, you know, and I didn’t even think i liked you that much before. It’s like there’s this hole--”

“In your chest? Yeah, I feel it too,” Draco admitted as he intently studied the book in his hands.

“Well, even without the empty feeling, I just can’t imagine willingly passing up my soulmate like this,” she confessed. “It’s easy to say that most people don’t meet their soulmate anyways so it shouldn’t matter, but I can’t imagine getting into relationships when I know that my soulmate is out there and it’s not the person that I’m with...”

“I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, instead giving his statement time to hang dry in the air.

“Do you want to see if there’s anything else in the book?” he finally asked, stroking the leather cover in his lap.

Y/N nodded, and instead of placing the book in between the two of them, she just leaned over, her head just millimeters from his shoulder. She thought for a few moments before letting it fall onto his, squeezing her eyes shut when she heard him suck in a breath.

“Page 394, right?” Draco asked, even though they both could see the table of contents laid out clearly in front of them.

She didn’t even bother responding to his question, choosing to watch him flip through the book to find it.

They skimmed the first page they had read together that declared how soulmates discovered each other. Turning to the next page, they were both surprised to see a bit of an afterthought added.

“So, if you know who your soulmate is and choose to ignore it...” Y/N’s eyes flickered nervously up to his.

“Then you’ll live with a painful guilt forever unless they, or you, die,” he finished, the eye contact that he offered rather wobbly.

The thought sat with the two for a few moments as they pondered.

“Is it that worth it to you?’ Y/N asked after a while, breaking his gaze and looking down.

“Is what worth it?”

“Keeping your bloodline pure. Is it so worth it that you’d allow us both to live a lifetime of despair?” Y/N wished that she hadn’t sounded so much like she was pleading.

She could tell Draco was thinking, something she couldn’t tell disappointed or pleased her. On one hand, he was considering both options, but on the other, he even had to consider when to her the answer was as clear as day.

“No, I don’t think it is,” he breathed, letting the book slip to the ground. Y/N winced as the binding hit the floor with a smack.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “A simple Reparo will fix it.”

Y/N shivered when she felt his breath tickle her neck. She had moved her head off his shoulder before asking the question and tilted her head to the side, and now Draco’s face was leaned in, inches from her own.

This was too good to be true.

“Just like that? You’re going to forget the years of prejudice your parents pressed into you? You’re going to defy the wishes of your family?”

Draco frowned.

“Can’t I say one thing we agree on?” Unlike their past conversations, there was no venom behind his words. “You don’t need to be difficult anymore. I promise I’ll try not to be a nuisance.”

“How am I supposed to trust anything you...”

Before she could finish her rebuttal, Draco had placed a surprisingly warm hand under her chin to tip her face up, gazing sleepily into her eyes.

“Stop getting in your head about this,” he quietly instructed. “We can worry about the rest later. Just...close your eyes and try to feel, not think, alright?”

Y/N waited for the ominous feeling inside of her to warn her not to, but it never came. Without a conscious decision to do so, her eyes fluttered shut.

She did exactly as he told her to do--instead of thinking of the repercussions, she chose to feel each kiss that Draco pressed to her lips, her jaw, her neck. Her fingers curled around the lapel of his suit, desperately clinging onto him as he continued.

When he finally pulled back, she was an unraveled mess of breaths and flushes, and from what she could see, he was too. His ice blue eyes were half-lidded, his moonbeam blonde hair tousled.

Draco leaned on her, resting his head on top of hers.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

final a/n: ooohhhh boy this was a long one, wasn’t it? sorry if the ending was a little anticlimactic. i’m much more into writing the buildup than i am the actual fluffy moments. my apologies for any typos or bad writing you came across in this fic...it was long so i didn’t spend as much time working on editing!

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lia-jones · 4 years

Text

Growing Stronger - Chapter Thirty-Four - Leave Me As Usual

Author’s Note: Hello beautiful people! Thanks to @muart0113, our super talented artist, you are in for a treat! This chapter has some exquisite art, made by our sweet Mu! Thank you, gorgeous Mu, for your immense support and love for the Growing Universe. People like you fuel my inspiration, and are the ones that keep me going when things get a little bit harder!

Victor let out a deep breath, watching it turn into condensation in the frosty morning air. Not even the cold weather would make him give up on his morning run. It was his alone time, when he dealt with all the feelings he had to put aside in his daily life. And that morning, he definitely needed to clear his head.

He took the first step with conviction, and soon he was increasing the pace, making his heart race as much as his head. She had said she wanted to be done with the wedding, that she felt like she didn’t fit in his life. Even if Andrea didn’t know it yet, he did; she was giving up. She was slowly retreating from his life. And he had no idea what to do.

What could he do? The uncertainty of the future was driving him insane. He set his personal feelings aside for a moment, building a scenario analysis in his mind. Base case scenario, he would get married, there would still be issues, but those could be dealt with in the long run. He would support her every step of the way and shower her with love, and eventually, she would understand he could and would make her happy. Best case scenario, they would solve said issues before the wedding. Some miraculous event would make her less busy, she would engage happily and effortlessly in all wedding-related activities, and she would be happy, knowing he would make her happy.

Worst case scenario... Victor sighed, he never liked this part. But one must be prepared for all situations, no matter how painful said situation is. Worst case scenario, she would leave him. She would conclude she didn’t want the life he had to offer, that Levi or any other guy was a better match, and she would leave him. He would be alone.

The next part of the scenario analysis entailed the steps for recuperation, should the worst case scenario occur.

Step number one, he would have to communicate the end of the engagement to all of his guests. Approximately three hundred and seventy out of four hundred. He would make a bland speech about incompatibility and different life goals, trying to protect Andrea’s image at all costs. He wouldn’t let people think poorly of her. If anything, they should think poorly of him. He was the one that failed miserably

Step number two, he would have to cancel all the services for the wedding. Florist, band, wedding planner. He would have to cancel the construction of the large structure he was building in his aunt’s land. He would have Goldman do all that.

Step number three, he would have to control the media. He would assign that task to Mia, with the crystal clear instruction to leave Andrea out of the confusion as much as possible. After that poor excuse of a boyfriend, and seeing her name slandered on the media because of her abuse, he wouldn’t allow her to be unwillingly involved. Andrea should be able to continue her life as if nothing happened. Everything should fall on him.

Step number four, he had to prepare for his father’s lecture. Victor wasn’t expecting any support from him, already guessing the main topics of his speech: he was a fool in love, how could he so easily let these filthy people into his life, his mother would be ashamed of him. Victor would listen to it all and wonder if, this time, his father was right. He could already feel the shame.

Step number five, and this was one Victor was certain of: he would close his heart forever. He would never love ever again. He had found the love of his life, only to see her walk away and break his heart. And he would not allow it to happen ever again.

Victor stopped dead on his tracks, realizing he had gone much further than his usual route. Sighing heavily, he returned home. He now had a backup plan, but he wished he didn’t have to use it. He was prepared for the circumstances, but no plan could prepare him for the heartache.

He entered the apartment, a delicious smell coming from the kitchen grabbing his attention. Andrea was cooking breakfast.

“Victor!” Out of the blue, she jumped into his arms and kissed him, almost toppling them to the ground. The weight he felt in his heart was immediately lifted with her affection.

“I’m covered in sweat.” He warned softly, as she broke the kiss, stroking his cheek. ”What happened?”

“It’s done!” She beamed at him. “I finally finished it! I’m publishing the first half of the study tomorrow morning.”

“It’s done?” Victor could barely believe it. The miraculous event had taken place after all. With the study out of her mind, she could finally focus on them, and the wedding.

“Finally!” Her eyes sparkled with joy, it had been months since Victor had seen that light in her eyes. “I feel like I could cry! I can finally breathe, I can finally relax. No more calls, no more late-night hours working, I can finally have a life!”

Victor squeezed her soft body against his chest. He felt like he could cry as well. However, he had something else in mind.

“That’s definitely worth celebrating.” His voice was low and sensual, as his lips touched her neck. “Let’s go get ourselves clean.” He carried her towards the bathroom, her legs still tightly wrapped around his waist.

“While getting ourselves dirty?” She asked in a sultry voice, hot and moist against his ear.

“Something along those lines.” He smirked, looking forward to the intimacy.

It had been a long time since they last had sex. He loved her intensely, made her lose her mind countless times, allowing himself to get lost in her, as the fog and warm water enveloped them, intensifying their senses. He tasted, kissed, caressed every inch of her skin, until his lustful hunger was completely satiated and she was pliant in his arms, her body soft with pleasure and exhaustion. He didn’t care if they would be late. She was his top priority.

“Now that the study is done, I assume you’re less busy today?” He asked while he ate the delicious frittata she had prepared for breakfast.

“Yes, I’m waiting for a printed version of the study to review. After that, I’m free.” She happily sipped her coffee. Andrea always looked beautiful after sex, her cheeks a beautiful pink, her complexion glowing. “What do you have in mind?”

“We could visit my aunt’s ranch this afternoon and see how the construction is going. Maybe stay for dinner. Mina would love to see you again.”

“Sounds wonderful.” The doorbell rang. Andrea got up to get it.

She returned with a wide smile on her face, holding a folder.

“And here it is, the fruit of my labor.” She opened the folder as she finished her coffee. “Oh no, that can’t be right.” She frowned, as she read some documents. “Hand me that pen, will you?”

And just like that, she was gone, totally engrossed in the folder in front of her, frowning and shaking her head as she read.

“Did I lose you already?” Victor asked softly.

“Sure. Just text me in case I forget.” She answered, absentmindedly, eyes fixed on paper.

Victor held her face gently, kissing her temple.

“I’ll call you later. You’re not listening anyway.”

She seemed to realize she had been distracted, glancing at him with worried eyes.

“I’m sorry, got lost a bit here.” She grimaced, and he chuckled. “Can I call you after I sort this out? It’s really urgent.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He gave her a warm smile. “Enjoy your day.”

He walked in LFG in a much better mood. What was he thinking, considering a breakup? In retrospect, it almost sounded silly.

An hour later, he got a text from her.

I’m sorry, I can’t make it today. Something came up, I need to solve it as soon as possible. Can we reschedule for tomorrow? Love you.

Probably something to do with the mistakes she saw that morning. If the study was to be published the following day, it was only natural that she would need to fix it promptly. He replied with a smile.

It can be rescheduled. In the meantime, I will prepare a list of things you should do as compensation. Be prepared. I love you.

Probably for the best, he thought. He had no shortage of things that were demanding his immediate attention, and maybe the next day they could take the day off, maybe have another picnic. He should call Mina to make arrangements.

It was later afternoon when he called Goldman, looking for his assistant’s wife. One of her clients had an accident that resulted in millions worth of damage, and Victor needed to know how much the insurance would cover, and how much that would cost LFG.

“Diane took the afternoon off, she’s out with Andrea somewhere. But she told me she emailed you the last report.”

Diane’s report was the furthest thing from Victor’s mind.

“You said Diane is with Andrea? Right this moment?” He felt an icy sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Shouldn’t she be? She… She left after lunch.” Goldman looked confused. “Is everything ok? You look pale.”

“Everything is fine.” Victor cleared his throat, closing the laptop and getting up from his chair. “I’m done for today. My phone will be off, call me at home in case of emergency only.”

“Are you sure you are ok to drive, you don’t seem-” Goldman fussed.

“Mind your own business, you have work to do. Like I said, I am fine.” And with that, Victor stormed off. He couldn’t bear talking to anyone at that moment, let alone someone that could read him so well.

Andrea had lied. Andrea never lied, something was seriously wrong. The ice in Victor’s stomach soon grew into a frigid wall. He was nursing a glass of brandy, hoping the frost in his heart would cool the fire in his blood, when Andrea came home.

“How was work?” He couldn’t avoid the irritation creeping into his voice.

“It was fine.” She didn’t look him in the eyes, taking her jacket off and leaving to hang it in the closet. “How was your day?”

Victor was done with idle conversation. He followed Andrea to the hall, ready for confrontation.

“Now you lie to me?”

Andrea’s shoulders tensed, her back turned to him.

“Victor…” She turned to him with a worried expression.

“Do you even want to get married?” Victor threw at her.

He turned to the living room, not wanting to explode right there in the hallway. Part of him wanted to confront her, wanted to demand justice for being wronged and deceived, to make her see how much she hurt him, how a simple lie left his heart torn and aching. Another part of him knew that this would lead to nothing pleasant, and it would just be the beginning of the end. The final confrontation. Although he understood that some things can’t be helped or avoided, that one should just face it and move past them, Victor also wanted to hold on to those last minutes with her, and pretend for a while things could still be saved.

“Victor, listen…” She followed him to the living room.

“I have been more than patient, Andrea.” Victor tried to hide the hurt and fury in his voice, but found he couldn’t. “I know the University has been putting a great amount of pressure on you, and I have given you time, and space. I have respected that. But you have been using it as an excuse to avoid me. You lied to me, Andrea.” Victor looked her straight in the eyes. No matter how painful it would be, she would tell him the truth. “Just admit it, this is over for you, isn’t it? You don’t want to get married.”

“Wait, that’s not fair!” Andrea raised her voice, although the hurt was more visible than the rage. “You know how hard I worked for this, you know I can’t just let it go down the drain! This is my career, I fought very hard for it!”

“What about ME? Why won’t you fight for me? Am I that forgettable?!” His voice came like a roar, echoing in the apartment, surprising him with its force.

The pain inside him was suddenly so unbearable he felt weak in the knees, having to sit on the leather sofa to steady himself, a tear escaping his eyes. Her silence, on the other hand, was deafening, making his ears ring. She said nothing, tears rolling down her face, as she turned her back on him and left, returning a moment after, her eyes full of rage.

“I am doing the very best I can. I’m sorry that’s not good enough for you.” She threw a piece of paper at him, walking away again.

Victor picked up the paper from the floor. It was stamped with that day’s date, from one of the designers he picked for Andrea. It was a receipt for a dress fitting.

The dagger in his heart dug so deep he let out a silent sob. That’s why Diane was with her, that’s why she didn’t say anything about it. She went to the designer to try on her wedding dress. Their relationship was already so fragile, and he managed to completely destroy it with a single blow.

He wanted to get up and follow her into the bedroom, apologize, admit what a big idiot he was, but he couldn’t. The ice around his heart had spread to his veins and froze his muscles in place, restraining his movements. Besides, he knew what she was doing in their bedroom. She was packing. She was getting ready to leave. At that moment, Victor was nothing more than a helpless spectator, watching his dream crumble to the ground, unable to act, unable to stop it. The only thing he could do was pick up the pieces.

He sighed, resigned, as he heard her come into the room again.

“I’m sorry-” She started. He already knew what was coming. He couldn’t bear to hear it.

“I’ll inform the guests that the wedding is canceled. You talk to your family. You don’t need to mind any expenses that were already made, all of those are on me.” His voice was monotonous and detached, hiding the fact that his heart was beating wildly inside his chest.

“Victor…”

“No!” He closed his eyes, another tear escaping them, betraying him. Before she could say anything else, he continued. “Take your time getting your things out of the house, I will stay in a hotel and go on some business trips I have been postponing. I will also withdraw my funding from your study, so you won’t have to see me again.” His voice started shaking, he wanted to cry so much, but he refused. “You have plenty of people that believe in your work. You don’t need me.”

Victor remembered his childhood, and how quickly he was dismissed by his own parents. They loved the idea of having a son, an heir, but they didn’t love him , not truly. All his life, he had been alone, so alone it was hard to picture himself any other way. He was a powerful man in his professional life, but at the same time, in his private one, he was invisible, insignificant. Everybody always wondered why he didn’t have any friends, or close relatives, or a wife, thinking that it was his fault, for keeping people at bay. But the truth was, no matter how hard he tried, no one cared enough to stay. And eventually, he stopped trying.

“In the end, it’s always the same.” He spoke, more to himself than to her. “I was a fool to believe this would be any different. Everybody leaves, every single time. And I’m left alone.”

Andrea suddenly kneeled before him, taking his hands. He was so numb he could barely feel her touch. He kept his head down, afraid to face her.

“You are not alone.” She held his hands tighter. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Victor. I will never leave you.”

“Forget it. “He shook his head. “Maybe you’re right.” His voice was so strained he could barely speak. “Maybe when things are too hard, it just means they are supposed to end.”

“Fuck that.” There was a strong determination in her voice and her touch, as she lifted his head to make him face her. “Look, I know right now you are building a wall between us, I can feel it. But if you ever loved me, if the love you said you felt for me was ever true, you’ll bring it down for a minute and listen.”

He watched her closely and skeptically as she spoke.

“I was wrong when I said that. Things that matter sometimes are hard, but we don’t give up on them, because they are precious to us. They are worth every fight, they are worth every struggle, and sometimes we will stumble and do the wrong thing, but we keep going, you know why? Because they are so rare, so unique that we refuse to give up.”

Victor shook his head in disbelief. Yes, that could be true for most people, but not for them.

“Just give up, Andrea, just leave. It wasn’t hard for you before, I’m certain you can do it again. You have proven to be capable of leading a happy life without me, go and find your happiness. There is no point in wasting time with foolish delusions. You were right to leave me the first time.”

Andrea looked at him with a scary determination in her eyes.

“No, I won’t. Not until you look me in the eye and tell me you want me out of your life.”

He felt his bad blood rising again. He did not like being defied like that.

“Fine.” He scoffed. “I’ll go.”

He should’ve known. He should’ve guessed that Andrea would never relent when she set her mind on something. Before he could reach the door she was already there, leaning against it, blocking it.

“No.” She spoke like it was obvious she wouldn’t let him leave. “Not until we figure this out.”

Victor’s mind was reeling, he couldn’t understand why she was doing this. Wasn’t she the one that said she did not fit in his life? Wasn’t she the one that kept avoiding him, neglecting him? Wasn’t she the one that was supposed to be upset? He had been an idiot, accusing her of lying to him when actually all she wanted was to surprise him? Why was she pushing him around, wanting to make things better again, when she was the one that showed intentions of leaving in the first place?

Why? Why was she fighting if the obvious choice would be to leave, like everybody did?

“Why are you doing this?” Despite his best efforts, tears filled his eyes, revealing how hurt he was.

“Because this happened before, and I left. And there is not a day that I don’t regret it. You think I was happy? I was trying to survive.” She moved to be in front of him, leaving the door clear, a sad look in her eyes. “Do as you must, I don’t want to force you into doing anything. But know this: I won’t be happy. I will never find bliss. And I won’t find anyone else, because nobody else is you.”

The wisest action would be to leave. It had been established that this wouldn’t work, not because he didn’t love her, but because he obviously couldn’t make her happy. An honorable man would probably leave, do the painful thing, sacrifice his happiness for hers. But Victor was weak, selfish. He wanted to stay, he wanted to hold her, kiss her, love her, end the fight. Try again, even if just for the sake of another moment with her. Victor couldn’t move.

She pulled him down and leaned her forehead against his, making his heart beat harder. “You are the love of my life, you always will be. Yes, I could leave, but where would I go? You are my life. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?”

The moment her lips touched his, Victor lost it. He kissed her back with passion, but more than that, with hunger, as he was craving the love she was giving him to soothe his aching heart. He took her in his arms and lifted her up, sitting her on the end table of the hallway, his body pinning her against the wall, his arms trapping her. And she was holding him back, caressing him, nurturing him, giving him the affection he had always dreamed of. When they broke the kiss, he held her tight. The fear of losing her was stronger than ever.

“I don’t want to let you go.” He confessed, nuzzling her neck.

“Then don’t.” She tightened the embrace, and he noticed she was shaking slightly. Guilt weighed in his heart for scaring her like that.

Slowly, he slackened the embrace to look her in the eyes, his nose touching hers, his ragged breath mixing with hers.

“I’m sorry.” They said in unison. Andrea pecked his nose, smiling at him lovingly.

“No, I’m sorry, Victor, this is mostly my fault. I know I have been a mess, and yes, you have been very patient with me. I have been feeling such pressure from so many people I unwillingly disregarded the only one that was actually trying to give me some relief. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t care. I want this to work. Can we work this out?”

“Yes.” His voice was shaky, but his heart felt warmer.

“I love you, Victor.” She smiled at him. “Will you marry me, and build a life with me?”

He wanted nothing more in this world. To have the woman he loved in his arms, to create a life for himself that would be completely different from the one he had before, one where he wouldn’t be alone and invisible. Her words made the warmth spread in him, like light flooding a dark room.

“Yes.” He smiled, his lips touching hers, asking for a kiss.

#mlqc fanfic #mlqc li zeyan #mister love queens choice #love and producer #victor x oc #Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #victor angst

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thisiswhereibloom · 4 years

Text

Today Is My Liberation

As our first year wedding anniversary creeps its head around the night, I can’t help it but wonder why? - Why did things have to take such a turn? Why couldn't we work out the differences? When did you start seeing me with that black lens that turned every single one of my actions into something you hate? - Why did I become this “miserable piece of shit ball of depression” to you? - When did I become disposable to you?

It has taken countless of psychologist hours, self-analysis, mentoring support, reading and learning about the subject to accept that regardless of what I did, would have or could have ever done, the outcome was always going to be the same. It would’ve always been ME. - Today, 12 July 2020, a day before what was supposed to be our first year wedding anniversary, I sit in front of my new home-office desk and start to accept that it wasn’t me, it was NOT me. I am not broken! Despite your and your family’s attempt to convince me that there was something wrong with me because I missed home, the home I left behind to come to the other side of world and build a family with you; or because I cried when you showered me in insults, as your sister said: “you shouldn't be affected the way you are by the words he calls you. They are jokes”; or because a car didn't provide me with the emotional and human affection I was in such a deep need of and in an attempt to ask for help I made a public comment instead of “brushing things under the carpet” as your dad said I should do. Despite the countless times I was called selfish, psychotic, miserable, a disgrace, ball of depression, monster, cunt. Despite your attempt to convince me to go on meds, as in your eyes it was the only way I could be “normal”. Despite the threats to leave me alone in this country I had yet to know and the times you packed up a bag and walked out disappearing for hours only to come back home and force me to apologize for your version of reality. Despite the way you painted me out to be God knows what to everyone in this country because as you told me multiple times, I am the new one here and everyone who knows you so whatever I say, no one would ever believe me. Despite my 4 unsuccessful attempts to reach out and ask for help from 4 of your friend’s partners as they all ignored me. Today, I stand up strong with my head held high as fuck and am proud to say that I am Domestic Violence Survivor. I escaped the cycle of violence from a narcissistic abuser with an incredible group of flying monkeys who not only enabled his behavior but were experts in the game.

If you care to know, I am not mad at you. I feel sorry for the person I got to know these past year and the person that will continue to evolve and possibly only improve the manipulation tactics I was blinded to. I feel sorry for the possible future victims and pray that life has provided them such a strong foundation like mine, to help them get out of the cycle sooner than later. Although, you did not get a criminal conviction as you played it safe as expected, working out for both of our advantages. I am satisfied knowing that you won't be able to lure another girl overseas and bring her to an unknown country to dispatch her as she no longer serves your needs.

However, I am upset at the flying monkeys that not only enabled your destructive behavior towards me, but played your game by joining into the shaming of my emotions and shutting down my cries of help by diminishing and disregarding the pain I was living in. I was once again, by the other 3 people who were supposed to be the closest to me in my new home, told I was broken.

When I asked for space to clear my head, to swim to the surface and catch my breath, I was told I could not be left alone as I was “too emotional”. But how could I not be when I found myself sitting at a round table with you and your 3 flying monkeys telling me I was broken. Telling me to brush off your insults under the carpet, that it was not OK for me to be sad because you never kissed or hug me, or because you called me a disgrace, a monster, a selfish bitch, you told me I ruined your life and that you wished you could ship me back. It was then, I knew I had to join your game while I got ready to leave. So I did.

You know, the last 2 months I saw you is when you were the calmer and “best” version of yourself. It was not because I wasn't emotional or psychotic. Instead, it was because outside our little love nest of hell, I was building my support system, I was being prepared by a professional, I was building escape routes, all while smiling and keeping the tears away from you. I was accepting your commands while staying within my new boundaries. I know you saw me slipping away though. Your second last attempt was the same as always, to buy me with a trip. You tried rushing into a vacation within weeks when we were not even living together. Then, you put on your show by coming back just for my birthday and making me pay for the brunch you took me to because “it’s all our money” but it never was, you asked me to leave my job. Yeah, for the second time in 10 months you asked me to leave my job as you would take care of us. But the truth is, you never gave a single cent. In fact, I had to become strict to obtain financial help from you as the fancy place you decided to live in was being all paid by me with the excuse that you were paying off “our properties”. Little do your people know that, right? - They all thought I was a gold digger. When you bought “me” the car you couldn't afford, just to show off and fought with me to post the beautiful video your sister recorded as I saw the car. Then you complained about me not being surprised enough for it and how I was selfish because of the same. Well, I was not surprised because I already knew you bought it. And I was not ecstatic about it because you did it in a desperate attempt to buy me and keep me by your side after I said you’re losing with all the insults and abuse. You became desperate as I became wiser. I started to predict your next move and by the time you exploded, I was ready to fly and never look back.

You know, all the weakness you saw and fed me is slowly turning into this unstoppable stream of self-empowerment. I am not going to lie, it has been tough, more than anyone who has not lived through it could imagine. In a way, I guess you would say you won because I started taking medication. I did it about 2-3 weeks before our final separation because getting ready for it in silence was eating me alive and causing unstoppable anxiety attacks. Remember how I can’t ever throw up? - Well I was throwing up every day multiple times at work. So by the time it was time to fly, the pills had started kicking in giving a little boost to get the fuck out. So I did!

Today, 4 months since our separation I am starting to see all the pieces of the girl I was, coming back together. I am letting the anger go little by little, I am loving myself again, I am loving life and smiling at strangers down the street again. Who knows, I may be healing enough to open up to love again. Yeah, you heard it right. While you ditched your broken trophy wife aside, there was a line of real men wanting to jump in and hold my hand. Even though one of your last words were, “you’re dying alone” because you tried convincing me that no one would ever want to be with me. Well no, as soon as you let me go my eyes started to shine again, my smile became real and it felt like I was floating in this magical world. I was free. This is your opportunity to judge, so go ahead. Tell people I cheated, since I probably am. You know, since we’re still legally married, although we never really were. But as he says, you were never ready to have a strong woman like me by your side. You needed a follower and submissive person that is OK with you feeding your ego with her soul.

Today is not our wedding anniversary, today is my liberation.

Today I acknowledge I am in deep pain, I have open wounds that will take years to heal and that I will carry with me beautiful scars from the battle you and I fought. Today I proudly acknowledge that I am an Emotional, Mental, Physical and Narcissistic Abuse Survivor. I acknowledge that abuse does not discriminate against race, social or economical boundaries.

Today I can say I accept that you weren’t ready for marriage. I accept that you, just as most people, have underlying issues that need to be worked out before you are ready to give yourself as a supporting husband or even partner to someone else. I also accept that maybe you will never accept that is the case as under your eyes, it would destroy your ego. Today I accept that blood is in fact thicker than water, and that your family had a duty to provide you their unconditional support. Although I accept all these, I am also aware that the damage was not only caused by you, but also by your flying monkeys as they supported and joined in your game.

Today I understand I was brought through this path in my life for a reason bigger than me. That although I don't fully understand what my duty will be, I know there is something waiting ahead that requires me to have experienced what I did with you. I understand that life and God have their ways of testing us, and that even though this past year may seem like hell, I will at some point look back proudly and see how much I have grown and overcome.

Today I decide to let myself free from you.

To be continued…

#NarcissisticAbuse #DVAwareness

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lovehugsandcandy · 4 years

Text

First Snow (Colt x MC)

A/N: Thanks for hosting the @choicesdecemberchallenge, @choicesbyjade and @cora-nova! This is for day 8 and the prompt is presents. (@client-327 inspired this with this piece of art. Also, thanks @client-327 and @brightpinkpeppercorn for the analysis of RoD coffee orders. Very verrry helpful, thank you so so much.)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~3900 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing. Kissing.)

Summary: Ellie has always wanted to see the snow. She just didn’t know she had to live through so much snark to get there.

“You look like a Muppet.”

“Excuse me?” Ellie looked down at her vest and snarled, more bark than bite. “This is very in right now, I will have you know. And just because LA is hot doesn’t mean I can’t try for some Christmas spirit.”

Colt stood from where he had been crouched next to his bike. “And that means you need to don some giant bright monstrosity that makes it look like you scalped a Wookie and dyed it green?”

“Well…you wear red pants.”

“I don’t shed.”

She groaned and looked down. She was leaving a conspicuous trail of forest green fuzz across the concrete floor.

“It’s also LA,” Colt continued. “I don’t think you need a vest.”

“It’s December. That means it’s almost Christmas! I love Christmas.” Ellie had always adored the holiday, though the sunshine and endless beaches of her hometown made the Christmas spirit seem contrived.

“Wow. You are all about the holidays, aren’t you?”

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest, but her defensive stance soon faded as a dreamy look crossed her face. “Yeah? My mom used to love it. She let out a wistful smile and looked down. “I’ve never seen the snow. We always dreamed of taking a winter holiday, playing in the snow or something, but...”

“…Sorry.” He ducked his head, eyes softening. Colt may be prickly about almost everything, but he understood family.

“Every year, I tell myself I am gonna see the snow and it never happens.”

“It’s 70 degrees right now.”

“I know but not everywhere. It snowed two feet in Tahoe yesterday!” She sighed. “Next year. I’ll see it next year. At Langston. I can just picture me gazing out at the snow while studying.“ Ellie chuckled without warmth as she lost herself in the daydream. “I’d have a mug full of hot cocoa and a full set of highlighters and-”

“Highlighters?”

“Are you seriously interrupting my fantasy right now?”

His smirk was wicked. “That’s your fantasy?” He stepped closer, sliding into her space. “I can think of some better fantasies than that.”

She rolled her eyes but she felt herself being drawn in, butterflies in her stomach, electric pulses across her skin, inches away from Colt and his eyes crinkling at the corners and his lips right there. “Seriously?” Her eyes darted to the curve of his smirk.

“I have much better fantasies, I can promise you.” He moved to close the distance when a shout from behind made her jump.

“Ellie!” Logan walked through the door and Colt stepped back; if they hadn’t been so infinitesimally close, Ellie never would have heard the soft groan of a curse from deep in his throat. “There you are. Did you need a ride home?”

She flushed, sneaking a quick peek at Colt before nodding.

She had just turned away when she felt a hand circle her wrist. The touch should have been innocent, just a light touch of his fingertips, but the way his thumb stroked her pulse point made heat flash up her veins. “Hey, Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Tragic holiday backstory aside...” He looked serious, contemplating her.

“Yeah?”

“You still look like a Muppet.”

She couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her and it looked like he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face either.

~~~~~

"What are you doing?!?" She stopped short as she walked through the front door. Usually, the desk was empty and customers would just duck their head in and scream until someone helped them. Occasionally, Kaneko would sit at the front, giving her a short nod as she slipped by to head into the garage. And she had seen Toby there a couple times, devouring comic books and bobbing to the music blaring from the tinny computer speakers.

But she had never seen this.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"You look like you're working the front desk."

"Wow. You are every bit as smart as everyone says. I'm really glad the California Educational System is truly equipping the minds of our youth with such fantastic observational skills," Colt deadpanned and turned back to the monitor in front of him.

"But..."

"Yes, I'm working the front desk, Ellie. Jesus."

"Why?"

"A job?"

"But..." She looked around and dropped her voice. "You're a car thief. Why in the world...?"

"My dad said ‘front desk only, Colt’." He mocked and rolled his eyes. "Until I can prove myself, I'm on lame ass front desk duty."

“But...you never used to work the front desk. You just used to bum around and make snide comments!”

“Oh, I’ll still do that, don’t worry. But now I can get paid.”

"What do you need to get paid for?"

"I dunno. Maybe Christmas presents, Ellie,” he scoffed. “Duh. You're the one who likes the holidays. Shouldn't it be obvious?"

“But…”

“But?”

“But your dad,” she dropped her voice before continuing. “Your dad legit steals million dollar cars. Why do you need a job for money?”

He shook his head. “Just because he gets paid doesn’t mean I do.”

"Ok. But...but...since when do you listen to your dad?"

"Since he's my boss?"

As if on cue, Kaneko walked out, clutching a paper and sliding it across the desk before pulling a wrinkled list and credit card from his pocket. "Coffee, please."

Colt raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not be the coffee bitch.”

Kaneko seemed nonplussed, small smile gracing his lips. "Do you work here or not?" He was obviously having fun with this.

“I work the front desk, I’m not your fucking errand-”

“I’ll go.” Ellie shrugged, swiping the credit card and coffee order. “It’d be nice to take a walk for a few.”

Kaneko just shook his head at his son and turned his back, walking back into the depths of the shop. She was about to head out but froze when Colt hopped out of the desk chair.

“I’ll go with you.”

“What?” She blinked, staring at him. “I thought you didn’t want to be coffee bit-”

“Shut up. Are we going or what?” He knocked his shoulder into hers to interrupt her tease.

She smiled, a soft secret one designed to be seen by him and him alone. “Ok. Let’s go.”

She was amazed when they made it three blocks, an eternity of LA pavement, where her eyes kept finding their way to his no matter how hard she tried to focus on the sidewalk. But right when they pulled the left on Manchester, strong arms pushed her against the brick wall of a pawn shop and, finally, insistent lips found hers. She melted into the kiss, pulling him close by the lapels of his jacket, cool leather a direct contrast to the heat flaming her cheeks, her lips, licking down her spine.

"Ah." She was being held up by the wall behind her and his hands on her hips. Absent those, she was certain she would collapse into a boneless puddle, a stain on the concrete where a girl had been kissed and kissed well. "Is this the reason you wanted to come? It wasn't to help me carry all the coffee?"

"You got me," he huffed low into her ear. "Ulterior motives. I'm actually not helping you at all; I'll just wait here until you pick up the order and then, when you come back, I'll kiss you again."

"Greedy. "

"Hey, I've been trying to get you to myself all week."

She bit her lip and looked up, all coy eyes and sneaky smile. "Well, you definitely don't want to waste this time now, do you?"

And when they finally continued on their way, after two pedestrians made snooty references to getting a room, well, Ellie felt very well-kissed when she got to the counter of the Starbucks.

"Ok. We have a big order, sorry." Ellie peered at the crumpled list, struggling with the variety of unintelligible handwriting. "Toby wants a venti iced frappuccino with a double shot-"

"What? No!" Colt ripped the paper from her hand. "Toby cannot have caffeine."

"Ok…"

"No. I don't think you understand." He grabbed her shoulders so he could look her dead in the eyes. "Toby cannot have caffeine. He once tried an espresso and then decided he wanted to try jogging; Pop had to pick him up in Pasadena when he got tired. Another time, he only had one cup but still was up for 36 hours straight convinced that he was destined to be a world-famous DJ; I had to kick him out when he was trying to make his own dubstep remix on the shop speakers. And then, another time, after having a fucking tea, he tried to redecorate the loft and I had to repaint the entire thing because he designed some half-assed mural of Big Bird eating tacos."

“Big Bird?”

Colt shrugged.

“Ok, ok, jeez.” She grimaced and turned back to the counter. "Can you make it decaf? And just maybe...not write decaf on the cup so he doesn't know?"

The girl behind the counter did not look amused but still nodded, tapping in the order.

"Ok.” Ellie sighed. “What else do we need?"

Colt peered at the paper in his hand. "A cappuccino with turmeric and honey."

"For Ximena?"

"You got it. Mona wants a venti dark roast, black like her soul."

"Colt, come on..."

"What? That is literally what it says."

She shook her head. "Did Logan want a latte or a mocha?"

"Latte. A vanilla latte." He focused on the sheet in his hand, scrunching his nose. "And my old man wants tea. Black tea. Black. No soul."

"Did he write that as well?"

"No, that was all me."

"Urgh. Ok, what do you want?"

"Flat white." He inclined his head at Ellie. "And I bet you want a hot chocolate.”

She looked at him in surprise.

“What? That's what you want, right?”

She blinked at him.

“What?” He was looking at her like she was insane. “You always get that.”

"You know what I get?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh my God, don't make a big deal of it." She beamed at him. "Stop it. Or I'll make you carry it all back by yourself."

"Ok, fine."

She couldn’t have carried it all back anyways. It was seven drinks, two trays, four hands full with beverages; however, even laden with drinks, Colt still took every opportunity to lean in and capture her lips, ending with an especially long kiss hidden to the side of the bay doors. She had to blink away the sparks from her eyes as she walked in. But, even as she gave out drinks to outstretched hands, the butterflies still remained.

She was savoring the first taste of hot cocoa, sweet and smooth and still warm on her tongue, when Logan took a sip from his cup and shuddered, lips pursing into a grimace. "Hey. I wanted a mocha! What is this?"

Ellie turned to glare at Colt but he was already walking back to the front desk, shoulders shaking in silent laughter and an extra bounce in his step.

~~~~~

"You're on front desk duty, again?"

Colt smirked at her, thumbing through an old magazine. “I’m starting to feel like you’re my boss.”

“Ha. If I were your boss, then you would definitely be disciplined for insubordination.”

He looked at her through eyes half-mast and she immediately realized her mistake. “I don’t know where I should start with that. The idea of you bossing me around or the idea of you punishing me.” He laughed as she flushed scarlet.

“How do you always make everything so inappropriate?”

“It’s a talent.” He looked past her at the sound of footsteps on concrete and scowled.

She turned and grinned, fully aware of the different reactions Logan inspired. “Hey, you!”

“Hey, Troublemaker.” He slid next to her at the counter, copying her lean so their shoulders brushed, nudging her gently before turning to Colt. “You still on desk duty?”

Colt glowered at him before turning a page so hard she could hear the magazine tear. “Better than pain in the ass duty.”

Ellie rolled her eyes as Logan turned to her, ignoring the jab. “So, Troublemaker, I heard you were quite the fan of the holidays?”

She grinned, barely noticing Colt’s head shoot up in her periphery. “Maybe...why?”

“Well, what do you want for a present?” Logan’s smile was hopeful, disarming as always.

“Oh, stop, nothing.”

“I’m still gonna get you something.” He winked and Ellie could hear paper crinkling in clenched fists.

“You don’t have to, really.” She tilted her head at him.

“What, my presence is present enough?”

She smirked as Colt gagged behind the desk. “Exactly. That, and you let me drive your car.”

“Free driver’s ed?” Logan put his hand over his heart. “Is that all I am to you?”

“You caught me. It’s like driving school and the opportunity to jump through the window of a sports car, all in one.”

“You wound me.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Ok, I gotta get back to work. Ride home later?”

“Definitely!”

“What do you want for Christmas, Ellie?” Colt’s sing-song mocked Logan, precisely, an eerily good rendition that made her narrow her eyes at him. At least he had waited until they were alone, until it was only Ellie there to hear him at full brat.

“I want you to be touched by the magic of Christmas, Colt, and stop being such a-"

"If I were you, I'd think of a backup gift."

"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what I want? Snow.”

“You want someone to buy the weather?” Colt leaned back in his chair, throwing his feet up onto the conspicuously bare front desk.

She rolled her eyes at him and leaned over the desk. "You asked what I wanted. I told you. Snow."

"Good luck with that one. It's 75 degrees today."

“Well, you asked…”

“I don’t have snow but…” He fished around in the pockets of his jacket, grinning triumphantly as he opened his clenched fist. “There you go. Twenty-seven cents, a receipt from Kelso’s, and some dirt.”

“Why in the world do you even have coins?”

“To give to you, obviously.” He dropped them with a flourish on the counter. “Merry Christmas.”

~~~~~

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"This is the third time you've been at the desk this week.” She leaned over the desk. “What in the world are you saving up for?"

“I told you. Christmas presents."

"For who?"

"Maybe you, Ellie." The glint in his eye was back, the one that reminded her that poking fun of her was Colt’s favorite pastime.

"Yeah, right. You know what I'm gonna get you?"

"I feel like you're about to tell me."

"Coal."

"Hmm..." he leaned closer. "Is that 'cuz I've been naughty?"

Ellie choked.

He only edged closer and kept going. "I have been bad but I'd be so fucking good for you, El-." He bit his lip and Ellie couldn’t pull her eyes from the way a blindingly white tooth made indents in the tender skin. "I'd do good things for you, do good things to you."

"Jesus." The flush traveled through her body like lightning, heat everywhere. He was so close. She slid a touch closer, just enough to brush her lips against his, but then-

"Colt!" The voice calling his name commanded attention, by tone alone.

She pulled away with a frown and she watched a similar frown grace Colt's face as he replied, "Yeah, Pop?"

“Do you have that paperwork on the Martinez car?”

She was close enough to hear him drop his voice as he opened up a desk drawer. “It’s up your ass.”

“Colt!”

“What?” He flashed her a guilty smile, pulling the papers out of a folder and holding them up. “Here you go, boss.”

~~~~~

Ellie furrowed her brow, confused. She had been looking for Colt but he wasn’t milling around the shop, wasn’t sulking at the front desk, wasn’t anywhere. She bit her lips, nervously. It was Christmas Eve, for chrissake- she wanted to give him her present.

Finally, when she had almost given up, her laps around the shop not going unnoticed by the others, he emerged from downstairs. She made a beeline over but wasn’t able to say a word before she saw his eyes narrow as he looked at the present adorning her neck.

“The hell’s that?”

She toyed with the delicate chain around her neck. “My new necklace. Logan got it. He said that he wanted to get something nicer than a spark plug for me.”

“Pssht.” He rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, “Run a few jobs and all of a sudden you think you’re the Monopoly guy.”

“What was that?”

“I said...it looks nice on you.”

“Liar.” She took a deep breath and reached into her pocket, tightly squeezing the metal ring into the palm of her fist. “I got something for you.” He watched her curiously as she pulled it out and handing it over. “I didn’t wrap it, sorry.”

“What is it?”

“A keychain. It’s for your keys.”

“No shit, Sherlock. But what is...:”

“Oh, that.” She grinned brightly. “Coal. That’s coal on the end. Seemed appropriate.”

He smirked and opened his mouth before shaking his head and closing it again, obviously thinking better of whatever snide suggestive remark had been on the tip of his tongue. “Thanks, Ellie. Come here.” She followed him to the front desk, where he ducked down into a drawer to emerge with a box, a wrapped present, white ribbon stark around red paper. “Here. This is for you.”

“Wow.” She flushed and took it, gingerly, paper crinkling underneath her fingers. “You wrapped it and everything, this is so nice!”

“Ximena did it for me.” He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You gonna open it?”

She hadn’t been expecting anything from him; other than stolen kisses that made her heart race, they had never really talked about presents or labels or whether he felt any of the same pull she did when their eyes met. She grinned at him beneath slow lashes and slid her index finger under the tape, slowly opening one seal and then, all at once, ripping the paper apart. “Oh my God, you got me hot cocoa!” She clutched the cardboard to her chest. “Dork. Thank you!”

“Yeah, it’s-” he stopped, biting his lip, suddenly shy. “It’s...you should-”

“Hey, Trouble? You ready to go home?” She turned as Logan walked in from the break room, tossing his keys from one hand to the other. “I’ll let you drive if you want!”

“Ok, yeah.” She looked at Colt, who was standing stock-still in front of her, odd look on his face. However, when she raised her eyebrows at him to silently communicate her confusion, he only shrugged. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” He shot one last, dark look at Logan before walking away, throwing a quick “Merry Christmas” over her shoulder.

As she took the keys from Logan and adjusted the seat, she couldn’t help but wonder. What was that all about? And, while she totally appreciated the present, what had Colt been saving up for?

~~~~~

She still couldn’t figure it out sitting on her bed, idly playing with her new necklace, sliding the diamond up and down her fingers. Why in the world had Colt been working the desk?

She got up with a frown, grabbing the box of hot cocoa and heading downstairs. At least it was a very sweet gesture. Her house was quiet, dark, her dad out on night shift and, with school on break, there was nothing and no one to distract her.

She pulled a mug off a shelf and paused, looking down. The box was open. She didn’t…

Carefully, she slid her thumb underneath the cardboard tab and pulled, peering inside. There was cocoa in here, two packets. But there was also a parcel, wrapped in tissue paper. She opened it up and laughed. Highlighters. Of course. Asshole.

And some papers, wedged inside. It wasn’t a card, just a piece of white printer paper folded to house a few more sheets of paper. She smoothed them out on the counter and gasped. Two tickets to Tahoe. A hotel reservation. And, in Colt’s careful scrawl: to see the snow.

She blinked. Gasped. And blinked again.

Her hands were shaking as she threw everything back in the box, a trick of packaging if she ever saw one. She ran upstairs to get her phone, her wallet, moving so fast she tripped on the way up and had to peel herself off the carpet. She ordered the Dryve while rushing downstairs, almost falling again, and waited by the front door, toe tapping an anxious song on the hardwood as she clutched the cocoa box.

The car came quick, the ride was quick, but she was impatient. Thankfully, when she opened the back door to the shop, it was still, quiet. No one was there to stop her as she ran downstairs, making her way to the door of Colt’s makeshift room.

She could hear him moving around, the slamming of a drawer and subsequent muttered curse, so she knocked. Loudly. And waited.

His eyes widened when he opened the door and saw her standing there. His eyes narrowed in understanding when he spotted the box in her hand.

“Hi.” Her fingers dug into the box, denting the cardboard. “I opened your present.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t need to-”

“I know.”

She took a breath. “No, you really didn’t need to do-”

“I know.” He shrugged. “But you wanted the snow for Christmas.”

“And it’s my trip.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you coming with me?”

He shook his head, laughing. “You can go with whoever you want, the ticket’s transferable. Right now they’re both in your name.”

“I know.”

“You can take Logan and then the both of you will be outta my hair. Might be nice to get some peace and quiet around here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really want that? Logan and I going together on this trip you got me?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Who should I go with, Colt?” She waited, staring expectantly, eyeing him for so long she had to consciously stop the nervous twitch in her thighs.

Finally, finally, finally, after so long she started to reconsider all her life choices, finally he rocked back on his heels and spoke. “Me. I wanna go with you.”

She smiled and launched into his arms, laughing against his lips. And when she came up for air, he was actually beaming, too.

~~~~~

"You are not wearing that vest."

"Oh, I am. There's finally snow, I hafta wear it!"

"I swear to God, I don't know why I'm here."

"Cuz you like me."

"I like the snow."

"Lie. You hate the snow. You'd rather sit inside and glower at the fireplace."

"..."

"You like me."

"I don't like anyone."

"No, you like me."

"Fine. I like you."

"See, Colt? Was that so hard? And it's not so cold if we cuddle up, right? ….hey. Hey, wait a minute. What are you…? Don't you dare-"

"Haha."

"Did you just put snow down my vest?!?"

"...Whoops."

"You are a dead man!"

"Bring it, muppet."

"Dead, Kaneko. Dead!"

And as she tackled him to the ground, she realized the snow was everything she had ever dreamed it was. And then some.

Tags:

Perma

@desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn

ROD

@omgjasminesimone @mskaneko

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

#playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choicesdecemberchallenge #amy writes

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Chapter Ten: Amalgamation

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

SORRY I’M LATE AGAIN. I KNOW, I SUCK!

Chapter Ten: Amalgamation

-~-

Notes: I genuinely can’t believe we’ve made it to chapter ten. It’s been nearly six years since I’ve written a fic this long, and the number of people who consistently come back twice every week to read what I’ve been working on is genuinely astonishing. Somehow after several years of no ideas and a dwindling interest in creating new content, we’ve arrived at 40k words and 1k readers! I can’t believe that we’re here. I’d like to thank HunterJamie, RubixaSeraph, SkylarMorgan1899, and Mallovarwen for commenting again with very enjoyable and helpful feedback, and thank first-time commentator Random Reader nothing special for their wonderful comment. It really warmed my heart. Thank you to everyone for their patience with my late releases this week. I’ve just been terrible at getting things done lately. Now, on to the chapter!

By all accounts, this was going to be the worst storm to hit the region in their current lifetime. The spokesperson on the portable radio that sat in the living room spoke of pitch-black clouds that hummed with dangerously high amounts of energy, abnormally large and concerningly frequent lightning strikes that almost seemed to be aiming towards objects on the planet’s surface, and torrential rains carried by winds just over fifty miles per hour. The streets had turned into rivers and the rivers were bursting at the seams while intermittent power failures plagued every building for miles to come. Reports of fires and car accidents came pouring into the station in droves as meteorologists combed through every piece of data they had, trying to form some sort of hypnosis as to where this freak act of nature had suddenly come from. Their analysis of the weather that day had been completely different. The prognosis was mass hysteria and paranoia across the board. And that was before the possibility of demons had been brought into the picture.

If this had been just a few months before the Redgrave City Disaster, the general public would have been quick to dismiss the notion that something supernatural might be going on, but things had decidedly taken a turn for the worst since then. People jumped at shadows, fearing and feeling the presence of denizens of oblivion at every turn. There was a fanatical talk show host at the end over every dial turn, and twice as many made for TV religious figureheads peddling disaster and armageddon into the open ears and closed minds of their eager listeners. The atmosphere was ripe with dread and superstition, and that was to say nothing about the rumors going around about some shadowy cabal that seemed to be investigating things around town, making a consorted effort to get the locals of the town of Enamel to divulge anything they knew about something dubious that most of the citizens couldn’t make sense of. Reports were scarce and inconsistent as to what this shadowy group wanted, but records of them were coming in from every corner of the region. It was unclear if they should be considered a threat to the general public since they had yet to harm anyone, but authorities were advising people to exercise caution.

Nero stepped into the room and found Kyrie listening to the broadcast, her normally serene demeanor showing slight signs of worry. He leaned over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around her, eliciting a startled sound and an embarrassed smile from the young brunette woman. She gripped his hands for a moment, hugging his arm gently with the side of her face as closing her eyes and let out a melancholy sigh. The young devil hunter couldn’t help but notice her change in demeanor.

“You shouldn’t listen to that, Kyrie. It’s just going to make you worry.” Nero said using the top of his head to nuzzle her hair. He didn’t like to see her like this, as infrequent as it may be.

The normally chipper woman pulled away timidly and stood up, glancing in the direction of the stairs. The children were in their bedroom playing at the moment and she was glad for it. Not so much because she didn’t want to keep up with them (although she did need a break if she was being honest) but because she didn’t need them hearing this. After all the things that they had been through in their short lives; surviving the Savior incident, being displaced and rehomed, and then nearly losing Nero such a short while ago, the last thing she wanted to do was frighten them again.

“Your right, I should probably turn that off,” She said as she turned her attention to the hallway, her eyes seemingly fixated on something behind her domestic partner,” There isn’t anything I can do about the weather, and the power keeps going in and out anyway. I should save the battery in case there’s an emergency. it’s just… all this talk about a cult... ”

Nero put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close, understanding now why she seemed so disconcerted. They had all lost so much during the attack a few years back. She didn’t need to explain to him why she would be worried about something like that. After all, it seemed like most residents of Fortuna were questioning key facets of their lives these days. The formerly devout community didn't show up to prayer as often as they once did if they showed up at all. Their faith had been totally and undeniably undermined. There were open debates about the merits and legitimacy of the Order of the Sword and its actions everywhere they went and no small number of turned heads whenever Nero or any other member of the Holy Knights went. It seemed that the entire city was united in shame and grief.

“Hey… don’t worry about it. You know I’m not going to let anything happen to any of you…” Nero hugged her and released her, allowing her to regain her.

Kyrie fixed her clothing and hair, taking a deep breath before exhaling and shaking herself as if doing so would somehow snap her out of her current state. She sighed and nodded, turning her head in the direction of the staircase again. The children had suddenly gotten significantly louder. After a moment, she stepped towards the stairs, turning back towards him as she went.

“Thank you, Nero… I… I don’t want you to worry. I know,” She smiled tenderly as she headed up the stairs, pointing at something behind him,” I’ll go check on the children. I think someone wants to talk to you.

With that, she disappeared up the stairs. Nero’s brow furrowed in perplexment as he turned around to see that V was in the room with him. Wrapped in the grey blanket that Kyrie had left him and leaning against the doorway to the room for support, he now looked more alert and healthy than he just had an hour or so ago. He had presumably heard and seen their entire conversation, but had chosen not to interject. Nero looked at him quietly for a moment before turning and going to sit on the couch.

He flopped down on the soft cushion and exhaled audibly, not sure how he felt at the moment. Although he hadn’t come to any sort of conclusion regarding this mysterious group that had been plaguing the area, he was willing to entertain the idea that something weird was going on. The odds of this otherworldly inclement weather starting the very same day that they brought V back from the great beyond was far too covenant to be a coincidence. True, it had been a foggy day, but the storm had started to roll in mere minutes after his resurrection and had intensified about a half-hour after they made port. And the intensity of the storm was questionable as well. It just seemed… aggressive, as though it served some other purpose and they were just missing something.

As Nero sat thinking, V approached the window nearest to him. It looked out over the street and down the block, showing a wonderful view of the distant shoreline during more ideal weather. He slowly walked over to it, staying decidedly close to the wall despite the fact that there was plenty of room for him to walk. When he reached his destination, he leaned back against the wall and pulled the mostly sheer curtains aside to get a better view of the outside world. He gazed outside quietly, half-turned away from Nero. Despite the deafening boom of thunder and the blistering speeds the wind was traveling at as it rattled the building slightly, V still found the sight of rain dripping off the overhead exterior window seal and then running down the window soothing.

“... Something isn’t right,” V said, not so much asking as he was stating a fact,” This storm is… unnatural, to say the least.”

Nero nodded two or three times as V turned to face him slightly more than he had been before. The taller man was most certainly fairing better now that Nero got a better look at him. He looked less pale now and closer to his normal skin tone, which was admittedly still pretty pale, and his balance seemed to be more steady. The shivering and clamminess that had plagued him seemed to be gone, and he was coherent.

“Yea, I kinda guessed that,” Nero said with a sarcastic tinge to his voice,” It started right after we brought you back. How’d you guess that something was going on?”

V turned his attention away from the window and turned to look at his brother again. He stepped forward and slid between the armchair and the side table that sat across from the couch and came to a stop in front of the couch. After taking a moment to regain his balance, he sat down on the other end of the couch and turned his attention back to his younger brother. “I can’t say. It’s just something I know.”

It was a sentiment they both shared for the same reasons, but there wasn’t a coherent explanation as to why this was between the two of them. The younger of the two deduced that maybe this was somehow connected to the spell they had performed earlier that day, but he couldn’t be sure. He was willing to believe that Magnolia was far more knowledgeable about these sorts of things than he was. Hell, everyone in his family probably knew more about this than he did. All this talk of realms of reality, contracts, and familiars went right over his head, despite the fact that he was not opposed to learning about any of it.

In an attempt to break the now marginally uncomfortable silence that was forming between them, Nero stood up and walked over to the fireplace across from the couch. He lit the gas fire, relishing in the fact that their home had one and that it wasn’t wood burning considering the age of the place. The cozy warmth started to spread throughout the available space in the room as Nero sat back down on the couch and stretched his arms out, trying to make himself more comfortable and seem more amicable. V wrapped himself in the blanket and curled up into the corner of the couch, giving a casual glance toward the window before shifting his focus towards the warm fire. Anyone with eyes could see that he felt more comfortable now that it was on.

“You turned on the fireplace,” V said casually as he adjusted himself under the blanket in order to be closer to the inviting warmth produced by the flickering flame. Nero nodded, taking a moment to realize that the very obvious statement was more of a question than anything else.

“Yea, well you were under a blanket so I figured…” Nero trailed off, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort. He was just now realizing that he hadn’t quite reached the stage with V where he felt comfortable explaining things like this, and he didn’t know for the life of him why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable. There was just something about V that unnerved him and made him unable to communicate the most basic things. He had never worked well with quiet people, but this was something else entirely. Hopefully, he would get better at communicating with him as time passed.

V looked at him thoughtfully, that devilish smirk that Nero was all too familiar with making an appearance for the first time since V’s untimely death. Nero gave him an incredulous look, unsure of what to do or say about his reaction. He wasn’t entirely sure why he looked so pleased with himself and that somehow made him even more uncomfortable.

Several sets of footsteps could be heard from behind them as they both turned to see Kyrie descending the stairs with the children in tow. She was carrying the once that V recognized; the littlest child named Carlo who had introduced himself earlier that day. But the other two boys who looked like they were probably biologically related to one another were unfamiliar to him, and he to them. Upon seeing him, the tallest child stopped and yanked the middle child to a stop, pointing at him with an excited look on his face. As Kyrie sat Carlo down in one of the living room chairs, the other children filed into the living room, their giant excited eyes fixed on V.

Nero stood up to go help Kyrie in the kitchen. Just as he did, the tallest child tugged on his shirt and pointed at V. “Hey, who’s that,” He inquired with interest and excitement evident in his voice,” You both have that cool white hair! Are you family?”

For reasons that he couldn’t quite place, his entire brain snagged like a rusted clock gear with a rope stuck in it at that question. Yes. Obviously, that was the answer. But for some unknown reason, he just couldn’t make that come out of his mouth. Maybe he just hadn’t truly grasped that concept yet. It was an irrefutable fact by this point, but somehow he just still couldn’t believe it in a way.

After a moment, Nero reached down and fluffed the inquisitive child’s head, nodding to him. “Yea. Were related.”

Before the wide-eyed child could ask him to elaborate, V chimed in from his comfortable position on the couch under his blanket by the fire. “It would appear that I’m his older brother.”

The little child giggled as Nero stared at V in surprise. He wasn’t expecting him to pick up on his burgeoning mental breakdown and come to his rescue. The middle child groaned, shaking his head. “Julio is my older brother! So you're both bigger than me!”

Julio placed his hands up to the sides of his head and wiggled them, taunting his little brother playfully. “Yea! Kyle and Carlo are my little brothers! I’m almost seven!”

V nodded quietly, honestly mildly entertained by the children’s antics. There was something about watching them tease and poke fun at one another that he found genuinely humorous. While his brothers terrorized each other, Carlo climbed down out of his seat and up onto the couch, sitting down surprisingly close to V. Considering the fact that he was around three, it wasn’t too shocking that he hadn’t figured out the concept of personal space yet. But that didn’t stop V from scooting back slightly to give himself more room, pulling his legs into himself closer. The little child didn’t take the hint and instead opted to climb over his legs and plop himself square in V’s lap, wrapping his arms as far around him as they would go to give him a hug.

“I love you, Nero’s brother! You're nice.” He giggled as he continued to squeeze, not really managing to do anything impactful to V’s ability to breathe. Well, at least not with his arms.

The taller man with the white hair stared at him, his eyes considerably wider than they normally were. V pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, his breath catching in absolute shock. The tiny child’s head was buried in his shirt, so he couldn’t see the look of absolute disbelief on the object of his affections face. No, he hadn’t just heard that. There was no way. He must’ve misheard him. After all, Carlo had just met him! But he had. And he was the first person to say that to him in… well…

… Oh...

Kyrie was in the dining room placing down the plates, so she couldn’t see what had transpired, but Nero did. And for the first time ever, he could actually tell what V was thinking because it was written all over his face. He’d never seen him look so startled in the entire time he knew him, but that wasn’t the only thing. He seemed… Almost hurt by the comment, clearly indicating that it had some sort of profound effect on him. And despite the fact that he didn’t know even the slightest thing about V’s personal life (if he even had one) he had an idea why the child’s words might have affected him so deeply. He’s had a rough time growing up. Little things like that meant the world, especially when the person saying them truly meant them. And Carlo wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t lie about something like that.

V sat up and wrapped his left arm around him gently, giving him a careful squeeze before letting him go and hesitantly running his fingers through his hair. He rested his head atop of Carlo’s head for a moment, giving him one last gentle squeeze, eliciting a giggle from the little boy before releasing him. He gave him a thoughtful but melancholy look before accompanying it with one last head pat. He honestly didn’t know what to do with himself. Reciprocating affection wasn’t something he had much experience with.

“... Thank you, Carlo...” V swallowed, trying to repress the emotions he refused to let speak for him,” That is very… kind of you.”

Carlo may have not picked up on V’s tone, but Nero had. The little boy had struck a nerve of some sort, and Nero was genuinely concerned as to how dark of a turn V’s emotional state had taken. He seemed deeply troubled by the comment.

As Carlo hopped down from his lap and ran into the dining room after his brothers, V sat breathlessly on the couch, clearly trying to compose himself. He ran his hands down his face and formed a cup, covering his face up to his nose with them. He leaned forward on his knees, shuttering slightly, and exhaled a shaky breath. Nero watched him quietly, unsure of what to do or say. He took a step forward and put his hand on the back of the couch, acutely aware that touching him right now might not go over the way he intended. V stole a glance at him, silently acknowledging his gesture but now speaking or moving.

“... V…” Nero said quietly as if speaking loudly would do him some form of harm,” You okay?”

He didn’t answer, at least verbally. He looked at him quietly and lowered his hands, exhaling and blinking rapidly as if he had something caught in his eye. After a moment, he nodded once and glanced in the direction of the entryway. Kyrie stood there with a curious look on her face but didn’t ask, clueing into the cat that this might not be a good time. “... I just wanted to say that dinner is ready,” she said as she looked at V, smiling sympathetically despite having no idea what had reduced him to this state,” I made extra in case you were hungry. Feel free to join us.”

She stepped back into the kitchen when she finished speaking. Nero turned back to V and inched his hand just close enough to where his fingertips touched the back of his shoulder but he didn’t grab him. He seemed to have composed himself for the most part. Nero leaned over to get a better look at him and they made eye contact. V shrugged away, uncomfortable. He wasn’t fond of direct eye contact any more than he was of them staring at him.

Nero glanced in the direction of the dining room and then back to his brother, now more settled on what he wanted to say. “You know, I’m pretty sure we have an extra chair around her. You wanna come with me?”

V looked over at him, a thoughtful look on his face. A light smirk that didn’t reach his eyes spread across his face and he nodded. “Yes. I think I would like that.”

-~-

I am so beyond done with myself over how late this chapter is. Like, I’m actually angry. But at least I got the chapters for next week done early so that I don’t have to worry about this happening again. So sorry guys. I suck, but I hope the chapter was good, at least! I’d love to hear your comments. I’ve updated the masterlist on Tumblr since it seems I’ll be having plenty more time to write due to the pandemic.

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frickyeahfanfic · 5 years

Text

SHOULDER ANGEL

pairing: steve rogers/captain america x reader

word count: 2019 (idk how that worked out) 2K

warnings: none just fluff hehe

(PART 2)

summary: you are a mission analysis specialist, hired on by tony. You've worked with him in the past with the initiative, but you just got moved to the stark tower. You are pretty undercover with your work, but you are extremely intelligent and are very good at finding the best drop off locations, escape routes, weapons analysis. (more explanation in the text). The story starts when Happy moves you into Stark tower.

_________________

“Happy, don’t worry, I got it, just let me- OUCH!”

The unsteady pile of boxes you were carrying fell from your arms. It landed with a thud, a few small memorabilia items tumbling out.

“See, Agent Y/L/N, if you had just given the box to me,”

You huff and put the rest of the boxes on the floor, gathered up the scattered items and put it back in your arms, this time more carefully. “I’m fine, we’re almost there, right?”

Happy rolled his eyes, but he too was carrying boxes so you couldn’t see. Behind him was one of Tony Stark’s droids, carrying more boxes. Moving was grueling task.

It had happened too quick. The papers around the apartment complex were notifying the occupants that renovations would be taking place for the next two months. You didn’t have time to think about it, let alone time to find a quiet place to stay. All of a sudden there were hardhats and workers crawling around, like ants in a hole, leaving you no choice but to move out. Frantically, you asked around your coworkers if they knew of a place to stay.

You didn’t know that Stark Tower was an option, but Tony Stark, your boss, quickly invited you to stay for the two months.

As a mission analysis specialist for SHIELD, you were often assigned to plan missions and help with the small (but important) details. One day the main specialist was gone and you had to sub in, completely terrified of the task ahead. Your job that day was to speak into the comms of the Avengers, the Avengers, and tell them the best escape route to the small mission they were on.

“Who is this? This is not Agent Miller,” Iron Man had said.

“Uh, no, this is Agent Y/L/N,” you said timidly into the microphone. You had just suggested an alternate exit route to the one originally planned, which led to the safety of dozens of citizens.

“Agent Y/L/N, I’d like to offer you a position,” the billionaire asserted with a nonchalant sigh.

So that’s how you got added to the favorites list.

When Tony found out that you didn’t have a place to stay, he immediately arranged a room in the tower for you. If there was one favor he could do for you, this was it.

“Y/L/N!”

You spin around, the top box shifting dangerously to the right. The boxes obstructed your view, so you couldn’t see whoever called your name. Your load lightened when the top box was replaced with a smiling face, Tony Stark.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here! Let me take you to your room,” he said like an enthusiastic hotel manager.

You followed him, with Happy close behind, and shared some small talk till Tony found your room. He opened the door, revealing a somewhat plain, but cozy room.

“Here is your key, don’t lose it.” He placed it into your now empty hands. They ached from carrying your boxes.

As he started to leave he paused at the door frame. “Our lounge area is on floor 27. Feel free to hang out with the gang, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.” A mischievous smile spread on his face and he winked, stirring confusion in your mind. He left, with the door open. A continuation of the invitation.

“Thank you Mr. Stark!” You called as he walked away.

Well, you survived the move. You looked at your luggage, then to the door. His words lingered in your head, “I’m sure they’d love to meet you”. Maybe you ought to give social interaction a try.

You left your empty room to go to floor 27.

A woman with striking red hair, dressed in black jeans and a black tank top turned her head as the elevator opened. You brought your laptop in one arm for a safe retreat in case this greeting went wrong, and a box of doughnuts in the other. An offering.

“You must be Agent Y/L/N,” she stated carefully, like a child dipping its toes into a cold pool before jumping in.

You nod and beam. “Yep. Sorry for the intrusion in your… headquarters,” you said her same tone.

“You’re fine. We don’t usually have visitors, so this is a nice change.” she stuck out a hand. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Call me Y/N, please, it is such an honor to meet you.”

Two figures lingered in the kitchen area, laughing and talking loudly. You decided you’d leave the doughnuts over there, and have a chat with them. As you approached, they grew quiet, holding their breaths.

“Hi! I’m Agent Y/L/N!” You said enthusiastically. Emptying your hands you put the doughnuts and your computer on the table beside you.

One man took a sip of his coffee and nudged the taller one with his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “I’m Steve Rogers, nice to finally meet you,” he spoke.

You tried not to look him up and down. He was a work of art.

The way his hair was perfectly combed, face well groomed, blue eyes shining like sapphires. His shirt fit almost too tight, oh those poor seams. The smirk on his face was adorable, like the one you’d see on an adolescent boy when they were up to no good.

“Finally?” You questioned.

He stuttered. “Tony, uh, talks about you a lot. Says you help with us Avengers more than we know, and that we should thank you.”

You laugh. “Just doing my job.”

“Thank you Agent Y/L/N. I’d love to spend more time getting to know you, but I have some duties to attend to,” the man next to Steve said, placing his cup down and dismissing himself. As he left the lobby, he quickly shouted, “I’m Clint, by the way!”

When you turned to look back at Steve, you caught him looking at you, and he quickly diverted his attention to placing Clint’s cup in the sink.

“Are those free game?” Steve said, pointing to the doughnuts.

You tilted your head. “As long as we save a few for everyone else.”

The two of you sat down, across each other and ate a doughnut in silence. He inhaled his, and waited till you finished yours.

“Sorry,” you mumbled with the last bite of doughnut.

“It’s okay, maybe I should have tried to savor mine better,” he chuckled.

You swallow and wipe the edges of your mouth with a napkin from inside the box. “So, you’re Captain America.”

He folds his buff arms. “The one and only. And you’re the shoulder angel.”

“Shoulder angel?”

Steve laughed. “It’s what Tony, and the rest of the team sometimes calls you. See, you’re like our shoulder angel because you always talk to us in our comms and say the right thing. You seriously have saved our butts a few times.”

Okay, you were really blushing now. Captain America was too charming.

“Well without you guys, I wouldn’t have a job, so thank you. Plus you’ve saved like, the entire world a few times so.”

His face was starting to hurt from smiling too much. He made a mental note to thank Tony for inviting you to stay in the tower with them.

A chime emitted from your computer and you opened it up.

“Ugh, agent meeting in 15. I’ll have to call in. I totally forgot,” you groaned. Normally you’d be fine going to a meeting, but right now it meant that you couldn’t spend time with Rogers.

You looked up at him and he met your gaze with his perfect blue eyes. He must have been staring at you because he cleared his throat and averted his attention.

“Forgive me Steve, but I need to take this. It was so nice to meet you.”

As you started to get up, he jumped out of his seat and came around the table to you. You had to crane your neck to look at him, and wondered why you hadn’t noticed his height before. You loved tall guys.

After a deep breath, he spoke. “When you’re done with your meeting, can we talk afterwards?”

You beamed at him. “Um, yes, I would love to!” You were startled at his suggestion, but surprise quickly turned into glee.

“Sweet!” He nodded and watched you leave.

…..

“Thank you for attending this meeting. Please remember the assignments you have been given.”

The meeting had come to a close. As you shut your computer, you looked to the alarm clock by your bed. It read 8:00pm.

You exhaled and rubbed your eyes. Exhaustion, hunger, pain in your neck and back from sitting in front of the screen, man, you were ready to collapse.

Without thinking, you got out of your desk and opened the door to your room. A figure was looming at the door and you screamed.

“I am so sorry!”

“Steve?” You realized.

He tried to stifle a laugh, but he couldn’t hold it in. Laughter echoed through the hallways until it hurt to breathe.

“I brought you some food. You’ve been locked in there for hours,” he said, holding out a paper bag with a Five Guys receipt stapled on.

Who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“Do you want to eat in the lounge area? Or, I mean, we could just eat in here, I haven’t unpacked-”

Steve smiled. “I don’t mind, maybe I could help?” He tried looking around you to see the boxes.

You waved him in and sat on the edge of your bed. He sat next to you, somewhat unaware of how close he should sit. As you rested your legs on a box in front of you he grabbed the burgers out of the bag.

The two of you began to talk, talk about work, about saving lives, about movies, just about whatever. You felt so comfortable sitting next to him, all of your worries seemed to slip away as you talked into the night.

“Thank you so much for getting that for me. I really appreciate it, Steve,” You said, then yawned. It was getting really late and it was hard to keep your eyes open.

Steve turned to look at you and smiled. “It was so nice getting to know you, y/n, I hope we can hang out again, maybe in a more formal setting,” he laughed, nodding to your room.

The both of you stood up simultaneously, and you walked him to the door.

“By more formal setting, you mean,” you paused, letting him finish your sentence.

“A date maybe?” He suggested, going a little red in the face.

You bit your lip. A date with Captain America? The Captain America?

He folded his arms with a newfound confidence. “Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me Saturday night?”

“Steve, I would love to.”

The two of you stood in your doorway, eyes locked. Was he leaning towards you?

“Goodnight y/n,” he said abruptly, turning and leaving you, stuck to your spot on the ground.

It seemed a little rude to leave that quickly, it was out of character from his behavior that whole night. You tried not to think anything of it.

Little did you know he was actually going to hug you, or say something else, but he got too scared. He was worried you’d freak out and after all, you had only met several hours ago.

You slowly shut your door and flopped onto your bed. Wait a minute, you were going out with Steve. Why overthink anything?

As you looked to the bunched up sheets where Steve had been sitting, you remember his laughter, only echoes in your memory. The way he looked at you as you tried to explain something that had happened at work, gosh, every girl wants to be looked at that way. The longing, the hope that was trapped in his pretty blue eyes.

Now you could only wait restlessly to be with him again.

(PART 2)

(author’s note: part 2 probably, thanks for being somewhat patient with me guys, im probably gonna start writing more marvel stuff cause im a hoe for the avengers)

#captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #shoulder angel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #captain america fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #infinity war #endgame #endgame fanfic #iw #mcu fic #mcu #iron man #frick yeah fanfic

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ilikeyouxactually · 5 years

Note

Do you think Elton's mother's concern was genuine about his suicide attempt, or she was screaming "My baby" just for the guests to hear?

PSA: This is being added after I initially uploaded it. This analysis is pertaining ONLY to the movie and the scenes involved. I looked at different scenes and interactions between characters, and this analysis is the product of such. This has NOTHING to do with Elton John or his mother, and is to mean absolutely no disrespect.

Anon, when I got this earlier I was at work and IMMEDIATELY, I was excited to get home so I could write this up. And then life and work got crazy for a few days and the whole weekend for me thus far has been potential house buying?? So yeah, I suck and I’m sorry it took me this long to get it up but HERE IT IS.

Listen. I have a lot of feelings on this, and I did not realize how badly I needed to analyze this. Mind you, it’s going to be a lot. I feel like I need to dive further into this than just the question at hand. Please bear with me and my ramblings, I promise I’ll try to keep them organized.

(Gif belongs to @brycemargot)

So the question at hand is whether I think Sheila’s concern was genuine about his suicide attempt, or if it was just for show? Personally? I do not think she genuinely cared. Not in the slightest bit. Sheila, as we see her throughout the film, is an extremely cold woman.

Right from the beginning of the movie, what we get of Sheila is her screaming at young Reggie to get in the house because his supper’s gone cold. Cut to in the house, and little Reggie asking about his father (like any child would) and Sheila actually giving him attitude and getting offended over it. “What am I, thin air?”

This boy just wants to receive any kind of affection from either of his parents, and he gets none. His mother is too busy half-assed cleaning the house so that she can go out on a date, not with Reggie’s father. And when Reggie starts playing the piano? Ivy beams and says how they should get him lessons. Sheila sees this as a great excuse to get him “out from under her feet.” She’s seeing her own child as a nuisance, just another thing holding her back.

As the film progresses, we see more of Sheila inserting little comments here and there that keep knocking Reggie down. When he’s offered a scholarship at the Royal Academy of Music? She immediately tries to dismiss it. “Things to do on weekends, can’t just drop everything.” Implying her need to go out and do what she wants, is more important than making time for her child and their interests. Thank god Ivy jumped in and offered to take him there herself. Later, Stanley is told about how Reggie might have a scholarship, and when he asks Sheila if she thinks he has that kind of talent, she expresses, “Of course he does. You would know that if you showed the slightest bit of interest in me or this family,” implying that she herself shows interest.

The only time that Sheila seems to show any interest is when Reggie becomes more involved in music and gets into rock and roll and records. But does she actually care? It seems that Fred seems to be pretty into rock and roll, and maybe Sheila is using this is a tactic to try to get Reggie to open up more to Fred and be more accepting of their relationship. After all, their initial introduction was pretty shitty considering it was Reggie walking up to them trying to shag in a car. In broad daylight. If I were him? I wouldn’t have been too fond of Fred. (But I will give Fred all the credit because it seems later on in the film that he and Elton developed a really wonderful connection and that Elton really admires Fred, and for that I’m happy.)

Moving on. As Elton gets older, it only becomes more apparent that his mother does not care. When he comes out to her? She literally says, “Frankly, I don’t care. I just wish you’d keep that sort of thing to yourself.” You mean your son’s relationships? You don’t want to have any involvement or knowledge of the people your son is in relationships with? Personally, I’ve found that it’s typically the shitty parents that don’t want to be involved with their kids relationships. I can’t speak for everyone out there, but my grandparents have always wanted to know about the people I’ve dated, and have expressed that it doesn’t matter who I brought along, be it men or women, they’d want to meet them. And the fact that Sheila says she wants Elton to keep it to himself, she clearly does not care.

And to the party. When Elton’s family initially arrives, we see Elton immediately go to greet Ivy and Fred, while John greets Sheila and the Anderson’s. (Quick note, I thought it was interesting that John–the snake–greeted Sheila and the Anderson’s; a person Elton has a lot of contention with, and people who are absolutely meaningless to him.) Sheila then quickly waves Elton over (the only time in the film she actually calls him Elton in the whole film, mind you. Only because she’s trying to show off and seem impressive to her friends) and forces him to give them a tour of the house right now. She doesn’t ask how he’s doing. Doesn’t ask about him at all. Doesn’t even hug him for christ sake. She plucks at his hair (which for the love of god LEAVE HIS HAIR ALONE) and even steps on his robe. Sheila doesn’t care about Elton’s well being in the slightest. She wants him to show off his big new house, and all the wonderfully expensive things he’s filled it with.

During the party? Elton is off by himself. Literally trying to kill himself. Everyone else is downstairs, and John is keeping Elton’s family entertained. Bernie, in fact, is the only one who makes it an actual point to go looking for him. So when Elton eventually throws himself off the diving board and is then taken away by the ambulance, Sheila trying to grab at him shouting “My baby,” is the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard in my entire life. She only shows concern when it makes her look good, or when the attention will be given back to her. I’m sure after that took place, she was swarmed with people going to console her because there’s nothing more vulnerable than a mother in distress. I’m sure she milked that for as much as she could.

But then later in the film, when Sheila and Fred make a return? Again, all Sheila is concerned for is Elton’s money and what it can do for her. She practically demands Elton to get money from John because she and Fred found a place they’re interested in. I mean. They have money? Can they not buy it on their own? Why does Elton need to buy them a house? And when Sheila finally admits that Elton is driving her away, that’s when shit hits the fan. Elton is driving her away? She doesn’t like seeing him in the papers going on about his drinking and drug use? I think any caring parent would show deep concern for their child’s drinking/drug abuse. Maybe sit them down and talk to them, try to help them. Not make their child’s issues about them and use that as an excuse to get away from them and move far away.

Then we get Elton’s speech about how he isn’t sorry for the fame and pleasure and everything that went with it, and while it’s a somewhat empowering moment for him, it’s so clearly a desperate cry for help. But once again. Sheila knocks him down and makes it about her. She should have never had children. That Elton forced her to give up and sacrifice so much. I mean. I am not a parent. I have never had children. But as a parent? You do give things up. Your child requires your time and attention. So naturally, you cannot carry on with your life the same as before the child came along. You can’t just go out every night, and only do what you want, because the child needs to be considered. Obviously. Some parents won’t do this. Like Sheila. She’s upset because her life changed when she had her baby. Newsflash. That’s what happens. Your life becomes about taking care of your child.

This was. Extremely long. Perhaps longer than necessary. But I needed to get this out.

The bottom line: Do I think Sheila’s concern for Elton was genuine?

Fuck no. There were so many opportunities for her to care and make Elton feel loved throughout the entire film. We never once see her show him a bit of affection, or take the slightest interest in being part of his life, unless she gets something out of it.

Hope you all enjoyed yet another ramble from me

#jess speaks #rocketman #analysis

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pitterpatterpot · 5 years

Text

Lion’s Pride: Chapter Twenty

22.

“What’s the person’s name?” Aelin scowls.

“No idea.”

“What gender?”

“Unclear.”

“Age?”

“Same as Evangeline, thank god,” Aedion sighs.

The queen links her hands and braces her elbows on her desk, eyes narrowed on concentration. The golden morning light trickles into her office, alighting both her and Aedion in a warm glow that contrasts with Aedion’s tired appearance and Aelin’s glare of concentration.

“Have we met them?”

“Possibly?”

Slamming her hands down on the table, Aelin pushes back in her seat. “Do you know anything?”

Throwing his hands up Aedion snorts. “Nothing. Evangeline hasn’t told Lysandra or I anything.”

“Have you asked her?” Aelin pushes, raising a brow suggestively. “Really asked her?”

“No, Aelin,” Aedion scoffs, appalled. “We haven’t done that and neither are you. Gods.”

“Have you asked Gavriel?” Aelin settles back into her chair, eyes deep with thought.

“No.”

Those eyes clear. “No?”

“No?” Aedion repeats, confused at her repetition. “I haven’t asked him.”

“Evangeline might have told him!” Aelin scowls. “He’s her third favourite!”

“Well I- wait, third?” Aedion pauses. “What do you mean by third?”

“Lysandra, then I and then Gavriel,” Aelin frowns, blinking. “Why?”

“Has Evangeline told you this herself?” Aedion fights down a pang of jealousy. “Has she come to you and told you this?”

“No, but I can tell,” Aelin smirks, knowing exactly what the statement has done to her cousin.

“You,” Aedion stands, “are a pain.”

“It’s my best quality.”

~~~

“Evangeline, sweetheart?” Aedion pokes his head into her room. “I was wondering-“

“I’m not dating anyone,” Evangeline interrupts, eyes focused on her book as she lays on her bed. “You can all stop whispering about it.”

“Ah,” Aedion pauses. “A girl or a boy? Or both or neither?”

This time she hesitates, slowly closing the book. “I don’t know. I’m… I’m trying to work this stuff out. Is that weird? I feel like I should already know what I want.”

A surprised laugh bursts from Aedion, the male moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart, trust me when I say that you are not the only person at your age struggling with this kind of stuff.”

“Did you?” Evangeline bites her lip.

Aedion snorts. “Honey, I was in a war camp. I was surrounded by other males. I fought with them in the mud. I slept with them in the tents. I watched them f-“

“Aedion! Ew!”

“I watched them fight!” Aedion chokes. “Fight! What did you think I was going to say?”

Evangeline glares at his grin. “You know what. It’s just… I don’t like how confusing this all is.”

“Yeah,” Aedion ruffles her hair, “I know. Trust me when I say that I will never care as long as you’re happy.”

“Thank you, Aedion.”

“No problem,” the general grins, stepping outside and closing the door.

“So-“

“Gods!” Aedion jumps back, staring at Gavriel. “How long have you been there?”

“I just walked up to you,” the Lion raises a brow. “You need to work on your reflexes.”

“Noted,” Aedion resists the urge to growl at his father’s small smile. “Is there a reason for this strange stalking?”

“I came to talk to Evangeline,” Gavriel starts strolling down the hall with Aedion, “but now it seems you beat me to it.”

“That I did,” Aedion smirks. “You also curious about this secret admirer?”

“Everyone is,” Gavriel admits a little uncomfortably. “If they hurt Evangeline then they’ll have a large amount of fae hunting them down.”

“Poor thing,” Aedion grins. “Too bad we’ll have fun if it comes to that.”

Gavriel shakes his head in amusement. “I’m sure you would. You handled that conversation well.”

“I just said what I wished someone someone would say to me,” Aedion shrugs.

“Do you wish someone had explained such things to you?” Gavriel asks, tapping his finger against his thigh.

Aedion hesitates momentarily, glancing at his father. “Don’t turn this into an excuse to have one of your discussion.”

“And here I thought you liked them,” Gavriel raises his brows. “But really. I know that those years of your life would have been difficult.”

“I- they was,” Aedion grips his arm, his hand slowly sliding down to his wrist. “But not just because of my preferences. I wasn’t in the best mindset to deal with anything back then.”

Something whines and clenches in Gavriel’s chest, shaking its head at the words as if to deny them. As if to shake away how Aedion’s hands are clenched at his sides, a sure sign that the words carry more weight than his son is leading him to believe.

“Evangeline will never have to go through that,” Gavriel says the words with a certainty that he knows is true.

Something softens in Aedion’s eyes and he nods. “I hope she is treated right by whoever she is spending time with.”

Gavriel nods in agreement. “So, back to your time at the war camps-“

“Gods,” Aedion rolls his eyes, walking away. “Let that stuff go!”

“You know very well that I can’t!”

~~~

“Just tell me,” Gavriel slides into the seat next to Aedion at lunch. “Who was your commanding officer? Are they still alive?”

Kyllian looks up at Aedion’s groan. “What’s this?”

“Gavriel wants to hunt down and interrogate everyone who has ever been in charge of me,” Aedion grumbles, picking at the food on his plate.

“General Mikel was the main one,” Kyllian goes back to his food, bored. “You may want to check up on Lieutenant Grackle.”

“Kyllian,” Aedion growls.

“Don’t you growl at me,” the man mutters, glaring back. “Gavriel’s in charge of me now.”

Aedion faces his father with an incredulous expression. The Lion cooly gazes back.

“Stop stealing my men.”

“Give me some details and I’ll let him go.”

“What’s happening?” Lysandra sits beside Aedion. “Who’s holding who captive?”

“Gavriel is holding Kyllian captive,” Aedion scowls, gesturing to the males in question. “He’s using him to gain information on my past.”

“Two words,” Kyllian sighs, “anger issues. So much anger in such a small body, but I suppose he grew into it.”

“Shut up, Kyllian.”

“Well, you did.”

“The first person you had close interactions with,” Gavriel prompts, prodding Aedion’s arm gently. “Just anything.”

Aedion sighs through his nose. “I’ve given you more than I’ve given most people.”

“Did they at least take you out on a date?”

“It was the war camps! The closest you came to dating there was hunting together!”

“Then tell me about the first time you went hunting with someone!”

“I’m leaving!” Aedion announces, setting his plate aside. “Go quiz Aelin about her first time hunting with someone!”

Gavriel frowns. “I already have. It was with a young male from the guild when she was fifteen. They snuck out to a bar.”

“You never turn off, do you?” Aedion breathes quietly, walking away. “Not even with the damn queen.”

“You can’t avoid this conversation forever, Aedion,” Gavriel calls out, standing to follow his son.

Rowan frowns at Aelin as the two males leave. “Is that a true story?”

“Someone needs to satisfy his paternal needs since Aedion tries to be stubborn about it half the time.” Aelin shrugs, sipping at her wine.

Rowan raises a brow. “So it’s not true?”

“I never said that,” the queen flashes a smirk.

~~~

They stand in the training rings, Aedion placing away spears as Gavriel watches him, his arms crossed.

“Well, who was your first ‘hunt’?” Aedion growls the last word as venomously as he can, the back of his neck tingling at the way Gavriel watches him. "If you're so stuck on the subject."

“Ah, of course,” Gavriel’s voice lightens as though he’s come to some realisation. “That’s fair.”

Aedion pauses, turning back to his father. “What? No, I was-“

“Her name was Lavendile, I met her when I was a young male in the town I was raised in. I was sixteen. It was the summer and we-“

“Alright!” Aedion growls, raising his hands. “I don’t really want to know!”

Gavriel raises a brow. “Oh, really? I had no idea at all that it was a part of your tactic to avoid the conversation.”

“Sarcasm isn’t a good look on you.”

“Neither is purple, apparently,” Gavriel deadpans.

“I apologised for that! But in my defence, it was a horrible shirt!” Aedion throws his hands up. “Fine, the truth? The first person I was interested in was a laundresses daughter who I saw around the castle when I was eleven. She was kind to me.”

“And when you first realised you held an interest in males?”

Aedion glares, closing the door to the weaponry. “In the war camps. As I said, it was a confusing time.”

“Was it because of a particular male?” Gavriel follows Aedion from the room.

Aedion halts and turns. “Why is this so important to you? We’ve started talking but it’s as if you just can’t let this go!”

His father doesn’t stop, following after him persistently. “Because I can’t.”

“You’re never this questioning when it comes to females,” Aedion snaps.

“Because it’s different,” Gavriel very near growls.

Something flashes in Aedion’s eyes and he narrows them. “Different. So you want to know who the first male I was interested in was because it’s different to me being interested in a female?”

The Lion doesn’t move. Gavriel simply crosses his arms once again, gold eyes hard and expectant. Aedion analysis of his father's stance before sighing.

“Some other male from the camps,” Aedion turns away. “I don’t know. Nothing at that point in time ever seemed to matter. No one back then mattered.”

“I’m sorry, Aedion,” Gavriel fills the silence.

The wolf snorts. “For what? You didn’t even know I existed.”

“I’m sorry you were deprived of first times that meant something,” Gavriel places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry things got to a point where others and yourself meant nothing to you.”

He sees something flicker in his son’s eyes, feels Aedion’s muscles tense under his hands momentarily before relaxing once again.

“Enough of this old man- male,” Aedion corrects himself, his smirk coming back into place. “I’m going to go check on Evangeline.”

“I’ll come,” Gavriel nods. “We were going to go into town to look at the craft stores at the markets.”

“You two and your crafts,” Aedion grins, making his way down the hallway. “At least allow me five minutes with her before you steal her away.”

“No promises,” Gavriel knocks on the door. “I’ve become rather attached. Don’t be surprised if I take her camping again.”

“Dear gods, not camping,” Aedion mutters under his breath. “You know how well that’s gone for us.”

“Right,” Gavriel sighs, knocking once again. “Evangeline? Are you in?”

“She may still be having dinner,” Aedion scratches the back of his head, yawning. “Or reading. She doesn’t need to go to bed at seven anymore.”

“You should go to bed earlier.”

“Gods, enough! I’m twenty-four!”

“You still need sleep!”

~~~

Aedion yawns. A gentle breeze drifts in from the window, the trees creating a gentle lullaby thanks to the wind. The sun dapples across Aedion’s bare body, tan skin set alight as he slowly sighs. It’s peaceful, for once, to wake up slowly. Gently. Without disturbing sounds in the background and people calling him to action.

So he rolls his shoulders, breathing in deeply once again to stretch the inside of his chest and enjoy the feel of the sheets against his skin. Something gives a pleasing growl in his mind, secretly pleased at the fact that he knows he has slept in and-

“Aedion!”

-Lysandra grips his shoulders and shakes. His eyes flash open and he sits up, immediately palming a knife in his hand.

(If Lysandra can shift into a form with claws and fangs then he can damn well have weapons stored around the bed is he wishes).

“Evangeline is missing,” Lysandra pants, green eyes ablaze with fury. “We’re hunting. Now.”

That’s all it takes for weapons to enter his hands and gear to strap onto his body. Lysandra herself prowls down the halls, movements more feral than anything as Aedion rages behind her. They waste no time in opening the door to Evangeline's room, striding inside and Lysandra shoving Aedion towards a forced open window and a note pinned to the wall.

“We,” Lysandra trembles with her fury, “are going to hunt them down.”

“And skin them alive,” Aedion growls agreement, crushing the note in his hand. “Have you alerted the others?”

“They’re hunting as we speak,” Lysandra’s lips curl into a dark smile. “I thought I should wake you to join me.”

“I would have been hurt if you didn’t,” the wolf gives a wicked smirk. “I trust that Aelin is furious?”

“Oh,” Lysandra breaths, her teeth already fangs, “she is raging like a bonfire.”

The previous cadre members, including Rowan, hunt in their animal forms. They prowl across the ground and soar above the sky. Aelin joins Renn in interrogation, both of them closely questioning anyone that could have heard, seen or participated in Evangeline’s disappearance. Gavriel for his part joins Lysandra and Aedion. The shifter and Lion creep through the garden in their preferred animal's forms, the ghost leopard and lion baring their teeth at anything that moves. Aedion follows behind them, a dark, chuckling whirlwind of aggression and war as he follows the tracks left by the assailants.

“They,” Aedion flips his sword in his hand, “are in the woods. Their tracks lead there.”

Both Lysandra and Gavriel growl. The Lion releases a roar, the message somehow being heard by each fae male as multiple animals begin to either run or soar their way towards the woods. Lysandra growls at Gavriel. The message she sends across is clear.

‘They are mine,’ Lysandra growl clearly states. ‘Mine.’

The Lion bows his head once and runs into the woods. A ghost leopard and general follow. It doesn’t take long for them all to pick up on Evangeline’s scent, to hear her muffled yells with their keen hearing.

And they feel a swell of pride at the yell of a man in pain. They were fools to ever think she wouldn’t fight back.

“Hello,” Aedion smiles at the men gathered in a circle, the cadre members and Lysandra surrounding them in animal forms. “If I were you, I’d run.”

And they do. He doesn’t bother following them, not when every single beast in the clearing runs or flies after them, splitting up to follow different men. Evangeline, bless her soul, is standing, hands tied behind her back and hair messed but teeth gritting the gag in her mouth and eyes just as furious as Lysandra’s. It doesn’t stop Aedion from immediately moving towards her, removing the gag and untying her hands. The bruise blooming underneath her left eye sends a furious growl through Aedion’s gut and up through his throat. Evangeline simply juts her chin out, a brilliant pride lighting in her citrine eyes.

“I punched one of them in the jaw,” Evangeline smiles brightly, another, smaller bruise on the corner of her lip, “and bit another.”

And damn if Aedion can’t help but smile widely at that. “That’s my girl.”

Somewhere, deeper amongst the trees, screams call out amongst the howls and calls of the fae.

~~~

“An eighteen-year-old!” Aedion scowls, gently dabbing a gash on Evangeline’s arm. “Eighteen!”

“Kyllian is two years older than you!” Evangeline scowls. “And she lied and said she was sixteen!”

“That’s still too old,” Aedion mutters, smoothing a bandaid.

“You sound like Gavriel,” Evangeline scoffs, urging a snicker from both Aelin and Lysandra.

“I am not,” Aedion hisses, leaning forward on her bed. “He still questions Kyllian and all my past relationships. I’m just nagging about the psycho that kidnapped you!”

Gavriel screws his brows from where he sits in one of Evangeline’s chairs. “I’m beginning to feel insulted. I’m just a male trying to look out for his kin.”

“You still have blood on your hand,” Aedion grumbles, hiding his smile as Gavriel quickly wipes his palm against his thigh. “And you, young lady, did a magnificent job breaking that man’s cheekbone.”

“I did?” Evangeline beams. “I heard the crack and then they tied my hands. They thought it’d be easy.”

“You did wonderful, darling,” Lysandra says, perching on the edge of the bed beside the girl. “Would you like me to get you anything? Do anything?”

“Could I have some dinner?” Evangeline lights up. “They took me before I could eat.”

Aelin bursts out laughing. “Oh, just like Aedion and Lysandra all right.”

“I’ll get it,” Aedion stands, making his way to the door. “The usual, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll throw in an apple crumble,” Aedion winks over his shoulder before closing the door.

Gavriel frowns at the tension in Aedion’s shoulders, at the way that, thanks to where he’s sitting, he was apple to see Aedion’s face fall as he turned away. It takes no prompting for Gavriel to stand, walking over to place a kiss on the crown of Evangeline’s head.

“I’ll go help with the crumble,” Gavriel suggests, smiling. “Just a bit.”

He ducks out of the room, closing the door behind him. He makes it down an entire level and around a few corners, tracking Aedion’s scent to another abandoned staircase. He makes it half way down and he finds Aedion sitting on the steps, head in hands and shoulders heaving. Gavriel drops down beside him, not hesitating to wrap an arm around his son’s shoulders. Releasing a strangled sound, Aedion tilts his body into Gavriel’s grip, his breath fast and erratic as it surges through his body.

“I know,” Gavriel sighs, closing his own eyes. “It’s been… a long day.”

“I- she- they could have-“

“But they didn’t,” Gavriel keeps his voice firm. “You were strong for her, Aedion, and now she’s safe.”

Another warped noise escapes Aedion, his heaving breaths continuing as his head grows light. It takes Gavriel rubbing the pattern to breath on his back for him to calm down. It takes at least a minute, yet what feels like an hour, for the room to steady and the ache within his skull to become bearable.

“She could have died,” Aedion finally says, voice weak. “And I was asleep. They got her out to the middle of the woods.”

“So what?” Gavriel keeps his voice at a soothing tone. “You’ll camp outside her door?”

“Maybe,” Aedion growls, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Maybe,” Gavriel nods and gives a small smile, hand still on Aedion’s back. “You know she was never in any real danger, Aedion. We found her.”

“I know,” Aedion bites out, sucking in another deep breath. “I know. I just- it’s been so long since I’ve had to worry about her or about anyone or anything bad happening and-“

“Breath,” Gavriel murmurs as a reminder. “Remember to breath. Evangeline is fine. She’s sitting in her room, rightfully proud of herself and waiting for apple crumble.”

Aedion snorts a laugh, hands trembling. “Right. She is. It’s just…”

“I know,” Gavriel sighs. “It’s a shock. Would you like to go back to your room? I can say you were called away for business.”

He sees the hesitation in Aedion’s eyes, the flicker of worry. What concerns him most is the way that determination bleeds away to show exhaustion as Aedion nods his head. He watches his son depart down the staircase, shoulders curved inward and hand loose by his sides in defeat.

Lysandra gives Gavriel a questioning look when he returns without Aedion. The Lion simply gives her a small shake of the head, mouthing ‘bedroom’ to tell her of his location. Evangeline for her part is fully delighted by the apple crumble, leaning against Gavriel’s side as she devours the dessert and describes her adventure.

And Gavriel may have added extra ice cream to the dish. And gave her enough for three people.

She deserves it! He knows when a warrior should be granted a reward, and gods be damned, that girl is going to get one! Soon Gavriel is the only one left with Evangeline, the others returning to their duties and Lysandra no doubt going to check on Aedion. He has no qualms about being left with the girl, with the two of them sitting on her bed as she admits to him how scared she truly was. If anything, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight is a joy that Gavriel will likely never forget.

“I just… I didn’t know what would happen,” Evangeline mumbles, still in Gavriel’s arms.

“I know,” the Lion nods. “Situations such as that are never pleasant. It rattled everybody, you are not alone in this.”

He simply strokes her hair for a few more moments, his fae hearing finding comfort in her healthy, young heartbeat.

“Is Aedion alright?”

“He’s fine,” Gavriel nods. “He’s just tired from the day’s activities.”

Evangeline collects her thoughts for a moment before speaking. “I know everyone gets sad sometimes. That deep kind fo sad that they all look as though they are drowning in. I’ve seen people succumb to it. Aedion would never do that, would he?”

Gavriel starts, at once horrified and shocked by the very idea as fear shoots through his core. “No, sweetheart, no. There are days that are harder than others, yes, and some things are hard to forget. Yet that does not mean that Aedion, or any of us, are at a point where we would consider such a thing.”

“I know,” Evangeline squeezes her eyes shut. “I just don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Gavriel kisses the top of her head, suddenly exhausted. “I know, darling. I know.”

~~~

“Have you talked to her?” Gavriel sits besides Aedion on the bench within the gardens, Fleetfoot frolicking around them.

“I have,” Aedion nods. “Thank you, for telling me what she said. What she was concerned with.”

“It’s fine,” Gavriel shakes his head. “She should know that you would never consider such a thing.”

He expects some kind of response, yet the silence that he is met with is as frozen as Aedion’s frame. His son stares back at him, those amazing eyes analysing him as if trying to draw out some hidden truth. The way Gavriel is unable to read them makes something uncomfortable slither up his spine.

“Aedion?” Gavriel can barely hear his own voice.

“I was fifteen. They took me to the river where Aelin drowned. If a healer that liked me hadn’t found me I may have bled out completely. I cursed her.”

It’s a punch to the gut. A sudden pain that empties Gavriel’s head of all thoughts until nothing but an isolating quiet takes a hold of him. He doesn’t notice the liquid trailing down his face, unable to look away from the many scars on Aedion’s arm, wondering which one was not inflicted by a foreign hand. Aedion for his part says nothing, simply sits and waits.

Gavriel sucks in a large breath and presses a hand to his eyes. “Gods above. Gods above, fifteen. And… gods above.”

Aedion’s voice is hoarse. “It was a time where I did not feel. But being taken to that river, shown the broken bridge…”

It is no surprise to Gavriel that something such as that is what would have chipped away at some final piece in Aedion. “Why did you never tell me?”

“It’s not exactly a light meal conversation,” Aedion snorts, finally looking away. “It never seemed important.”

“Does Evangeline-“

“No, gods, no. I would never tell her. Not when she already has such a fear,” Aedion shakes his head, eyes darkening. “She shouldn’t worry about such a thing, shouldn’t worry about the adults around her in such a way. It is unfair to a child to have to hold that kind of weight.”

“Have you ever…” Gavriel needs to pause to clear his throat, heart thudding painfully. “Have you ever thought of doing it again?”

“There was a time I had an infected wound but never told anybody,” Aedion shrugs half-heartedly. “But besides that, no, no outright attempts. I had too much of a goal afterwards. When I was younger I believed there was nothing. Then revenge became an option. Rage is a surprisingly good motivator.”

“Right,” Gavriel swallows thickly, trying to rein in his emotions. “I- Aedion, you that if you ever, that if things-“

“I know,” Aedion turns back to his father. “But I don’t want to go. Not now. Not when I have so many things to do and to see. I’ve struggled too much to see this reality to leave it.”

Gavriel nods, sending a silent prayer to the gods. They watch the once-green leave’s that have turned to crisp autumn jewels slowly drop to the ground, swaying in the breeze. Gavriel relishes in Aedion’s presence beside him, breathing in the mountain air.

Such fear. Such a horrible, horrible fear. It would be the saddest thing for someone you love to die before you ever gain the chance to meet. To lose that possibility.

And yet they came so close.

#aedion ashryver #evangeline #gavriel #lysandra #tog #lions pride

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gveret-fic · 6 years

Note

Prompt: Kara and Lena take their first vacation together

Lena had always imagined their first vacation to be to Cairo, or Rome, or even Istanbul. Somewhere with a deep history or unique architecture. But she supposed, to Kara, who measured travel by light years rather than miles, there was little difference between Shanghai and Midvale.

But, oh, it was fine. Rather than a relaxing, romantic experience somewhere faraway where her face was less recognizable, Lena was going to meet her lover’s foster parent. Which was just fine with her, of course. If there was ever a thing Lena had a perfect track record with, it was mother figures.

“Lena.” Kara placed her hand on Lena’s thigh. “She’s going to love you.” She squeezed. “And if she doesn’t love you, she’ll at least tolerate you.”

Lena let out a laugh. “Thank you for the reassurance.”

“Cuz I love you,” Kara continued. She took away her hand and swung one leg over Lena’s thighs to replace it.

Lena pulled on Kara’s hip to tug her halfway into her lap, rearranging her in a way that was sure to cause Lena’s legs and ass to fall asleep within the hour, but it made Kara giggle, so screw the consequences.

She wrapped her arms securely around Kara and settled in for the rest of their train ride.

If Kara had gone by herself she could probably have flown. But Supergirl carrying Kara Danvers’ girlfriend all the way to Kara Danvers’ home town might have been a tad suspicious.

By the time they reached Eliza’s home, Lena’s entire lower body had indeed descended into pins and needles. She tried to discreetly rub feeling back into the back of her thighs as Kara knocked on the door.

The door swung open abruptly, and Lena rushed to remove her hands from her ass. Feeling caught out, she crossed her arms over her chest, then immediately uncrossed them, struggling to recall the basics of body language.

Meanwhile, Kara exclaimed and jumped to embrace Eliza tightly.

“It’s so good to see you,” came Kara’s hug-muffled voice.

“It’s been far too long,” Eliza agreed.

Kara stepped back and touched Lena’s elbow. “Lena, my foster mom, Eliza.” She turned to Eliza and said, surprisingly formal, “Eliza, um, please meet the woman I love.”

Lena had to cough to clear the inopportune lump in her throat at those words.

“Hello, Lena,” said Eliza, and moved to step forward.

Hug or handshake? Hug or handshake?

Be cool, Lena told herself frantically.

“Lena Luthor. Pleasure.” She held out her hand.

Miscalculation. Eliza was clearly going for the hug.

They engaged in an awkward dance that resolved in a contorted sort of mutual pat on the back. Two minutes into the encounter, and Lena was ready to sink into bed with a face mask and headphones and the resolution to never have another interpersonal interaction again.

“Please, come in,” Eliza said, as if Lena hadn’t just irrevocably lost her right to be welcomed into anyone’s home ever.

Kara pinched her waist. “Relax,” she mouthed. Lena could only give her a helpless shrug.

Eliza showed them to the living room, where a number of chairs faced a long sofa.

Now what? Should she sit? Is the ability to stand up for prolonged periods of time a desirable trait in a daughter’s significant other? If so, Lena is already failing.

“Kara, could you get us some drinks?” said Eliza. “I’ll give Lena the tour.”

Kara waved to Lena cheerfully and went into the kitchen. Lena sifted desperately through memories of Luthor networking lessons as she followed after Eliza.

Eliza’s home was generic to the point of being literally unremarkable. “You have a lovely home, Dr. Danvers,” Lena brazenly lied. Grasping for a polite comment to make, she gestured at the windows. “I, uh, love your drapes.”

“Oh? I don’t really care about decor and all that,” Eliza said dismissively.

Lena privately noted that she had made no comment about Lena’s use of the honorific. Message received, she thought, straightening her back until she felt a slight twinge.

This was going well.

“This was Alex’s old room,” Eliza was saying. “You know Alex?”

“I do.”

“What do you think of her?”

Lena exhaled. Finally, a subject she could compliment sincerely. “Loyal to a fault,” was the first thing that sprang to mind. “Determined, caring, overly self effacing perhaps. It’s clear that awkward charm and selflessness run in the family.”

Eliza snorted. “Never thought of Alex as selfless,” she said. “Well. It’s good you get along, I suppose.”

Lena felt herself bristle. Certainly more selfless than you or I, she wanted to say. But normal families liked to tease each other harmlessly, didn’t they? Not every unflattering comment was meant to belittle or control.

They finished the house tour and joined Kara in the kitchen and accepted mugs of hot cocoa. Trust Kara to make the best possible choice when asked for unspecified drinks.

“So, Dr. Danvers, I heard from Kara that you’ve been developing a multipurpose vaccine with extraterrestrial immune systems in mind,” Lena tried. “We’re introducing a new alien-safe hypodermic needle next quarter, if you’d be interested in a—”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do business together,” Eliza interrupted bluntly.

Lena swallowed her instinctive retort. Kara was nodding as if this made perfect sense to her, so Lena tried not to jump to conclusions.

Kara took it upon herself to carry the conversation for the next several minutes, and Lena silently sipped her cocoa and tried to find an appropriate place to join the discussion. Every time she gathered the will to speak up, however, the conversation had already moved on.

“Lena,” Eliza said abruptly after a four minute dissertation by Kara on the superiority of mutts. “A word, please.”

Lena glanced at Kara, who held up two thumbs and mouthed You got this but offered no helpful objection. Her jaw worked.

“Of course.”

Eliza herded her into her office. “In here. You can sit in my chair.”

My chair needed no clarification; there was only the one. Lena worked very hard on refraining from clenching her jaw as she sat, looking up at a very much still standing Dr. Danvers, Alien Girlfriend’s Foster Mom.

“You seemed nervous today,” Eliza observed neutrally.

“Oh, I—uh—” Lena immediately regretted opening her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Hm,” said Eliza.

“I don’t mean to—You seem perfectly nice,” Lena blabbered. “I assure you, my intentions toward Kara—”

Eliza waved her hand. “I don’t care about that. Kara’s an adult. If she gets her heart broken, that’s a part of life. She would live, and grow to exceed you in every way.”

Eliza’s gaze was calm and unwavering, and Lena found herself unable to look away. She felt observed, assessed, without any idea as to the results.

“I agree,” she said quietly.

Eliza nodded. “Likewise, I don’t care about your politics, or your media presence, or your taste in interior design,” she continued. “I care about one thing. Do you know what it is?”

“Whether—whether I can make Kara happy?”

Eliza made a noncommittal sound. “I’ll trust you with that,” she said, not sounding entirely convinced.

“Then—?”

“Kara loves you,” said Eliza. Lena knew this, of course, but the matter-of-fact words were jarring somehow, coming from her. “This is why she brought you here. She wants you to be part of our family. Do you want the same thing?”

Did Lena want the same thing? To be linked to Kara in the way most profound to her, to have a family that she can be unreservedly proud of, to be part of something beautiful?

“Yes,” Lena said, trying not to make the unspoken duh too conspicuous.

“Then you are,” Eliza said simply. “Go help Kara set the table. And don’t call me Dr. Danvers ever again. You’ll both be here for Passover, won’t you? Bring some appetizers. Grain-free, you remember.”

Before she quite realized what she was doing, Lena was out of the chair and on the tip of her toes, arms around Eliza Danvers. Eliza reciprocated easily, without a hint of hesitation, her grip tight and steady. Another thing that seemed to run in the family.

“Oh, I thought you might just be a standoffish ass,” Eliza observed over Lena’s shoulder. “Now I’ll have to reevaluate my analysis.”

Lena let out a slightly wet laugh. “Thank you.” She was aiming for sardonic and accidentally landed on sincere.

Eliza pulled away with the classic shoulder squeeze and eyed Lena like she knew every one of her secrets. “We should get back before Kara suspects me of assassinating the woman she loves.” Her approximation of Kara’s dreamy, painfully earnest tone was quite good, really.

Lena decided to file her away as mom who enjoys affectionately making fun of her kids. Also under gives good hugs and does not observe small talk etiquette.

Not altogether an uncharming person, in all honesty.

Back in the kitchen, Kara was humming to herself and munching on a bag of dry granola. Kara feeling at home was truly the most absurd, emotionally fulfilling sight.

Lena surreptitiously wiped at her eyes and sidled up to her. “Eliza enlisted me to set the table for dinner.”

Kara turned to her. “Are you crying?” she whispered loudly.

“No,” Lena told her. And sniffled.

Kara wrapped an arm around Lena’s hip, hand dipping down to give her ass a firm squeeze. Lena laughed breathlessly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kara murmured, putting down the granola and handing Lena a stack of very ugly placemats.

Lena glanced from the placemats to the fridge, littered with Nature magazine clippings, precariously magnetized stacks of bills, and a single tiny cut off photo booth picture of teenaged Alex and Kara making silly faces.

Nevermind Cairo or Rome or Istanbul. There was truly no other place she’d rather be.

#supercorp #my fic #thanks anon!#i took this in a different direction hope you don't mind #anonymous

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sherlockxreader · 6 years

Text

A Time Of Change - Chapter Four - Unknown Deductions

Title: A Time Of Change Chapter Four: Unknown Deductions Summary: Ava Bradford. Behavioral Analyst of the Miami Police Department. Or former Analyst after the events of the past force her to journey to England and take up a job away from the family she had created. Here, she struggles to keep to herself and her life under control, quickly takes over as she readies for her future on Baker Street. Author: Alexa @alex-awesome1023 Words: 3,766 Characters/Relationships: OC x Sherlock Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Past Physical Abuse, Nightmares Author’s Notes: So far so good, everything seems to be flowing pretty good I hope you guys like the first meeting I was super excited for everyone to read this part so i hope you guys like it and if you have any question comments or concerns please feel free to contact me or Maddy! Sorry if i didn't get all of you in the tag i’m still new at this and i don’t know when people send me stuff and the main page. Just send it to Maddy and let me or her know if i didn't put you in or want to be in the tag list. P.S. Its my birthday next Saturday and I’m super excited! 19 is a weird age haha...

Original Character Ava Bradford is inspired by Zoey Deutch. And the credit for the photos and gifs go to google and the people of Tumblr! Enjoy!❤

They enter the room. It’s somber, dark, and the wallpaper is peeling in the corners. In the center of the room there is a flash of pink and a small person kneeling next to the body. It's the same person that Sherlock saw go up the stairs.

You examined the body like it were a puzzle. Running your fingers over the victim’s back and under the collar of the vibrant pink jacket, you felt the dampness it held, most likely from rain. But it hadn’t rained recently in London. You inspect every little detail. Sherlock watches in fascination as you, an unknown girl to him, inspect the body with speed on par to his own. He knows what you are doing by the look in your eye, seeing you reading all the little details and the ideas pop into your head. It was what he felt every day of his life. She’s deducing.

“Oh, this is our newest detective on the job. Detective Bradford.“ Lestrade said noticing that Sherlock had stopped at the entrance to look at you. But you didn't move or even acknowledge them, you were too lost in your own deductions that you didn't register that Lestrade was speaking.

You leaned over the inspect the outflung hand. The victim had scratched in a message with her fingernails into the floorboards, the wood streaked with her nail polish and dried blood. As you looked at the note, you ran your fingers over each individual letter - Rache. German for revenge. Is she… No. It can't be that. Too obscure. You slightly shake your head and push away the idea, trying to think of anything else that would make sense of the message.

“Rachel….” You whisper to yourself just loud enough for the three men behind to hear. But why choose to write this name as your last words?

“Ava?” Lestrade said once again but you were still very much oblivious and stuck in your own thoughts. You get up from your place on the floor with wide eyes, looking round the room aimlessly. What is she looking for? Sherlock thought to himself quirking his brow.

“It’s not here. That’s weird. Why is that weird?” You rambled to yourself, trying to piece every little detail together like the jigsaw it was. “Oh. Oh! It’s mur-!”

“Ava!” Lestrade said more sternly, trying to get your attention. You jumped at the tone and whipped around, finally realizing that you were no longer by yourself. Sherlock saw your expression falter as you turned around, catching his gaze, but before he could identify it, you caught yourself and hid it from his sight. How interesting.

“Oh sorry, I didn't hear you come in. I’m Detective Ava Bradford, I deal with Behavioral Analysis and Criminology.” Looking at the three men and meeting Sherlock’s hard gaze, you gave him a quick look up and down and smiled politely. Looking over at John, you stopped and with a slight tilt of your head, you deduced him almost automatically, his physical characteristics too much of a give away into his past. “You’re a soldier, or were. Afghanistan or Iraq?” You held out your hand in greeting. John exchanged looks with Lestrade and Sherlock, who was at a loss for words. He took your hand and your theory was confirmed with the strong and proper handshake he gave. You could almost feel the slight tremor in his hand. A strong heart.

“I’m John Watson and it was Afghanistan, but how did you…” He seemed to remember something, by the way his mouth quirked up at the side in astonishment. “You’re like him, aren’t you?” John’s face brightened as he pointed towards Sherlock.

“I see the military career in your face and in the way you carry yourself. You should probably find a new therapist though. They’ve got you all wrong. And if your asking if I’m like The Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes over here, then yes, you could say that.” You smirked at John before you looked over at very tall man once more, practically towering over you, beginning your deductions on him as well. Wow, I thought I was short before. “You… like being the centre of attention, the smartest in the room. But there's something more...” You looked up at him deep in eyes and tried to see what it was that you were looking for, little did you know Sherlock was doing the same to you.

Nothing. I can't read her. He thought to himself, getting agitated at the fact that you were a mystery to him, a book that was closed with a lock, whereas you had gotten at least something from him. You both noticed the awkward silence in the room, making you break the trains of thought that you shared. The heavy air in the room made the thoughts of everybody around you all the more obvious, making your nerves jump as you realize what you had done.

“I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m thinking and then I just speak my thoughts out loud. Just ignore me. Please, continue on with the case. Greg, may I talk to you for a moment?” You exit just outside the door, beginning to go through what you found from the body.

“Ok, what is it?” He asked, curious as to what your abilities were like in comparison to Sherlock’s.

“This is a lot bigger than just four impossible suicides. It's murder. I don't know how yet but it's murder. There is a suitcase missing and we need to find it. I need to find it.” You rambled on not really waiting for his response.

“Woah, woah wait. How is it murder? How can you tell? And what suitcase?” He asked with a hard gaze.

“Her suitcase!” You implied, not making yourself any clearer and not waiting to hear his response, you go back in the room to see what Sherlock had come up with. Catching the satisfied grin on his face as he was taking off his latex gloves, you couldn’t help but think in the back of your mind that you wanted to see it again. No, focus. Sentiment is weakness.

“Got anything?” You hear Greg perk up behind you, hoping he would have an insight into what you were suggesting.

“Not much.” Mr. Holmes simply said as he got up from his place on the ground.

You were near the door when you heard an unwanted voice come through. “She’s German. Raché, German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something.” Anderson chimed in from his place in the doorway, making Lestrade and John turn around, you roll your eyes. You saw Sherlock walk towards the door, his eyes to his phone and his hand out ready to shut out the offending person. You took the liberty of doing so for him, closing the door harshly on Anderson’s face. Sherlock’s head whipped to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted as you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet, confident in your actions.

“I’m sorry did you hear something?” You caught the satisfied grin on Sherlock’s face once more before he turned around and continued typing away at his device. You ignored the little flutter in your chest that arose when you came to the realisation that you had caused that smirk.

“So she’s German?” Lestrade asks, looking at Sherlock. You roll your eyes again.

“Of course she’s not, but she is from out of town from a place called Cardiff I do believe.” You pulled out your phone as you remembered seeing heavy rain around that part when you were looking at the weather in Lestrade’s office. I hate the rain, the memories would always come with the storms and cloud my brain. Noticing the silence in the room, you looked up to see Sherlock’s beautiful eyes locked on yours. Stop with the sentimentality already! Get a hold of yourself! “It’s obvious isn’t it?”

“Sorry – obvious?” You heard John ask, making you look break your gaze with the detective. “H-How is that obvious?” His question went unanswered as Lestrade paced the room, his arm crossed over his torso, the other resting atop it with his fist under his chin.

“What about the message, though?” His question went unanswered as the thoughts in the room scattered from one another.

“Doctor Watson, what do you think?” Sherlock asked. Oh, so he’s a Doctor too.

“Of… the message?” John’s voice trailed off as he looked to the two people who were clearly above his intellect. Sherlock rolled his eyes while you avoided his gaze, not wanting to humiliate John any further in front of his… partner?

“Of the body. You’re a medical man after all.” With a deep glare he replied to the Doctor.

“Wait, no. You can’t... we have a whole team right outside for that.” Lestrade gestured towards the door. “I’ve already let him on the scene but I can’t just let him go do what he wants with the body.”

“You can and you will. The others won't work with me.” You saw Sherlock’s focus flicker at the end, the topic obviously a sore point with the man.

“I’m breaking every rule letting you in here.”

“Yes… Because you need me.” Sherlock turned his whole attention towards Lestrade, glancing at you for just the sliver of a moment. Lestrade considered the detective’s words for a brief time but, relentlessly, he let his head drop to his chest.

“Yes I do, God help me.” Sherlock gave a short nod of his head to John, who had crouched down near the body, his hand hovering over the woman’s coat.

“Doctor Watson.”

“Hm? So...” John looked up from the body, looking to Sherlock and then to Lestrade, a little unsure of what he was meant to be doing in the room of professionals. He waved his hand a little in a silent question to Lestrade.

“Oh do as he says, help yourself.” A little defeated, he walked outside, motioning his hand to Anderson to gain his attention. “Anderson keep everyone out for a couple of minutes.”

“You’re letting the freak run the show again?” You turned your head to the closing door, seeing Lestrade scowl harshly towards Anderson and begin to scold him before the door shut, blocking the scene from your eyes. You turned around, that pinch in your chest returning again when you realized that the ‘freak’ Sally had mentioned earlier was none other than Sherlock. Your gaze moved to his back as you looked over to the two men squatting next to the body. John leaned heavily on his cane and you could see the physical stress that crouching caused him. You listened as they exchanged muffled words only meant for the two of them. They seem close. You heard Lestrade come in behind you as John lowered himself closer to the body in order to better inspect the woman’s airways.

“Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her though. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs.” Looking quizzically towards Sherlock, his hesitation still evident on his face.

“You know what it was. You’ve read the papers.” Sherlock looked to John with an expression that egged the man on.

“She’s one of the suicides. The fourth…”

“The fourth in two weeks!” Nevertheless, Sherlock’s enthusiasm was a force to be reckoned with as he began to talk over the doctor.

“What I can’t understand is the victims connection to each other. This woman is in her late-”

“Late thirties, and works in the media going by her clothes and the coordinated pink everything.” You interrupted his quickening speech, staring down at the poor woman, your own excitement taking over. “She’s a serial adulterer, judging by the clean inner edge of her ring; she removed it with each man, polishing it unintentionally each time, but none of them knew she was in a unhappy marriage by the state of the ring itself; rarely cleaned and maintained though it’s at least fifteen years old.

“She traveled to Cardiff today on business. How I know she is from Cardiff is because I know Cardiff recently had a heavy rainstorm when I looked at the weather radar earlier today which is why the underside of her collar is wet; she flipped it up to shield herself from the rain and wind. The mud on the back of her right shoe and calf shows us that she had a suitcase, which is missing!” You finished in under a minute, a little flushed from the lack of air to your lungs.

“It’s brilliant.” John said in admiration staring at you from his spot in the room. You turned your head toward the doctor with a raised brow, surprised by the comment.

“Sorry.” He said quietly. You in return gave a small, cheeky grin, thinking about the compliment, your cheeks now red not only from your fast deductions previously.

“Okay just slow down a bit. Cardiff?” Lestrade shifted his feet back and forth, almost feeling Sherlock’s jealousy emanate from his tense body in the corner of the room.

“Uh yes. Her coat, it’s slightly damp. She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours. Under her coat collar is damp too but the bit facing us isn’t, so she’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can’t have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried.” You add pulling out your phone

“I just so happened to look at the weather radar earlier in your office out of boredom - I wanted to know when it was going to snow - and that’s when I saw that it was raining near there. The area, Cardiff.” You finish as you turned your phone to Lestrade to display today’s weather for the southern part of Britain.

“That’s fantastic.” John commented once again making you smile. You turned to him and whispered in a low voice.

“You know you do that out loud?” You chuckled at his cheeks as they turned a slight shade of pink.

“Sorry. I’ll shut up.” He said looking away in embarrassment.

“No it’s... nice.” You smiled, turning away from him as you remembered how you used to get bullied and called a freak or stalker, and a witch just by saying what you saw. It was simple observation, it wasn't a trick, though those few that did appreciate your talent never saw it as anything else. As you got older and as the hate outgrew the admiration, you simply just ignored all the comments and stopped deducing out loud. You had missed this, the occasional child-like wonder and puzzlement at your deductions. What you didn't know was that the detective saw your expression change with the new direction of your thoughts. It had become distant, sad, and something else he couldn't identify.

“Why do you keep saying suitcase?” Lestrade inquired.

“Ah yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organizer, a planner. Find out who Rachel is.” Sherlock said leaving his thoughts of you and returning to the case, shifting his eyes around the room.

“And she was writing Rachel?”

“No, she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. But the question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?” Sherlock barked at Lestrade making you shake your head at the situation. This must happen often.

“Now, where is it? What have you done with it?” You were wondering the same thing as you closed your eyes trying to think of where that damn suitcase went you hear Greg speak up.

“There wasn’t a case.” Lestrade answered shaking his head in confusion. Sherlock looked up at him slowly with a frown expression.

“Wait, what do you mean there is no case?” You asked as you opened your eyes and looked towards Lestrade, him taking a step back from the surprise on your face.

“There wasn’t a case. There was never any suitcase.” He said cautiously as he flicked his eyes between you and Sherlock, who had immediately straightened up and headed for the door, calling out to all the police officers in the house. “Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?” He bellowed as he made his way down the stairs.

The three of you follow him out and stop on the landing. “Sherlock, there was no case!” Lestrade calls down the stairs.

“There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn’t miss them.”

“Right, yeah, thanks! And ...?”

“It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how, but they’re not suicides, they’re killings – serial killings.” He holds his hands up in front of his face in delight. “We’ve got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There’s always something to look forward to.”

“Why are you saying that?” Lestrade asks making Sherlock stop and look up to the three of us.

“Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here, and they took her case.” You see him pause and say something quietly to himself, you barely making out what he said. “So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car.”

“She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there.” John speaks up, breaking his silence and making Sherlock look to him for a moment.

“No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair! She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She’d never have left any hotel with her hair still looking…” He stops talking as he makes a realisation. “Oh. Oh!” You see his eyes go wide and his face lighten up as he claps his hands together in delight. You could almost see the gears in his head working at high speed even for you. You head back in the room to get a hold on your own thoughts, Sherlock was moving too fast for you to comprehend at this point. Closing your eyes you try to block out the world and try to figure this out.

What am I missing, there is something I’m missing. The killer was here, he made her take the pill herself but how? The missing case is what connects them. That's where he made the mistake. He forgot it was in the car… “That's it!” You shuffled towards the door out towards the landing where Lestrade and John still were and you hear Lestrade yell down to Sherlock.

“Of course, yeah – but what mistake?!”

“PINK!” Both you and Sherlock said in sync as he ran out of the building as you came up behind Greg and John. Lestrade, baffled by the whole thing, turns and goes back into the room while Anderson and his team, who had been waiting on the next landing down, hurry up the stairs and follow him into the room. John looked quite lost with all the commotion going on and you were about to enter the room but Johns expression and body language caught your attention. His leg is hurting him, seems agitated, and… Is on his way out.

You walk into the room getting Lestrade’s attention. “Greg, would it be alright if I left, I have a pretty good idea of what Mr. Holmes was telling us and I want to go question him further. And I can't really do much here that hasn't already been done.” You noted with a smile making your way to the door.

“Alright but you’re still on call, but I doubt you'll get anything from Sherlock, he works alone most of the time.” He said turning his attention towards you away from the body.

“So do I but here I am, working for your division.” You said with a wink as you exited the door.

He called out to you as you walked down to the landing. “Oh Ava, wait a moment. I… I’ve heard about your partner and I’m sorry about what happened. If you need to tal-”

“Thank you Detective Inspector, but that won't be necessary.” You said flatly without turning around. Without waiting for him to respond you headed down the the stairs to catch up to the doctor. Lestrade had seen the fact that you were still sensitive about your old partner. The accident involving both you and your partner occured not a month before you came to London and he was worried that it would affect your work as well as others. Clearly you weren't over it yet. Who would be?

As you exit the building you release the breath you didn't know you were holding. You closed your eyes trying to calm the anxiety that was building in your chest, refusing to think of ‘that’ night. You wouldn’t allow yourself to think of ‘that’ knowing that your mind would replay the incident over and over and you would end up falling down that hole again. Taking a deep breath you snapped your eyes open and marched on. You were stronger now and didn't want to be that weak little girl anymore.

You walked out onto the road looking around to see if you could spot John. He was walking towards the main road. For someone with a psychosomatic limp he sure is fast. You quickened your pace to try to catch up to him only to be stopped by Donovan.

“You should watch your back with him” You stopped in your tracks as you heard Sally’s cocky remark.

“Sorry?” You asked stepping closer to her.

“Sherlock Holmes, he’s a freak and doesn’t need another one to encourage him.” She said fiddling with her radio. It took every nerve in your body to not shove it down her throat.

“You really should think more before you speak. You might actually say something intelligible then.” You walk away before the argument could escalate and make your chances of suspension rise. You look towards where John had been, but you couldn’t see the man with the cane anymore. You sigh and instead turn towards where Baker Street was, flagging down a cab as it passed, your thoughts plagued with pink, war and a detective.