#a student stabbed someone while i was on the clock at one of the high schools i taught at

[itstimeforstarwars]

There is an ad that keeps coming up on my dash that basically says “aren’t you tired of work sucking so much and being so difficult? You should try teaching!” and, uh, as someone who used to be a substitute teacher—

#chit chat #bites you bites you bites you #teaching isn’t hard??? teaching doesn’t suck??? teaching????? #in this economy? #under these conditions?? #give me a fucking break #yes i did enjoy teaching yes i did adore the kids but it did suck and it was very difficult #a student stabbed someone while i was on the clock at one of the high schools i taught at #seventh graders were always intentionally difficult and liked to try and make me cry in their classes #also there were two separate occasions that i showed up to work only to be informed that the class had gone on a field trip without me #like another teacher took them and the bus had left an hour ago #that was always exciting #also the fuckin hall monitors had it out for me #they were always yelling at me for wandering the halls and i always had to have my badge to prove i was not a student #but they never wanted to help me find the office or classroom I needed to get to #and this was all pre covid i imagine it’s far worse now

[robthegoodfellow]

Billy Hargrove’s Extensive Knife Collection

Rated G - 1.5k (or read on AO3)

commissioned by @ihni​ for harringroveforturkey! based on a discussion of our Swedish Billy headcanons 💛

(tw for brief reference to Steve being mistaken for a sexual predator because of his shady-seeming presence at the Byers)

...🔪🔪🔪 ...

The thing was—Billy Hargrove just seemed like the type to have one or more knives on him at any given moment. Like, he gave off this general sense of imminent violence, this erratic rage simmering away under the skin. Even before Hargrove beat his head into the Byers’ floor, Steve had known the guy was pretty much always a breath from destruction. It wafted off of him like the woodsy cologne that Steve had smelled and distantly pondered moments before he stopped smelling anything for a while, on account of the bastard punching him in the nose a hundred times.

So yeah, when Steve saw him during their lunch period, a couple weeks after the thrashing, the dregs of autumn warmth barely clinging to the air—a couple weeks after Hargrove had snagged him in the hallway, thrown him against a locker and seethed I find you near my sister again and I’ll gut ya quicker n’ you can blink—a couple weeks after Steve realized he was maybe into volatile dudes and that said volatile dude thought Steve was into little girls, what the fuck—like he was saying, a couple weeks after all that, when he saw Hargrove emerging from behind the gym building, from the direction of the running track, folding a knife and slipping it into the pocket of his leather jacket, he felt compelled to investigate.

Given that Steve hadn’t yet figured out how to assure someone you weren’t a creepy predator without sounding like a total creepy predator, he waited until Hargrove was out of sight, then crossed the parking lot and peered around the corner, ventured as far as the bleachers, even—but saw no signs of a recent stabbing. No student or teacher or animal bleeding out on the ground.

So he shrugged and went back inside.

But then, over the next few days, he realized he’d never once seen Hargrove in the cafeteria since that blond curly mullet had first darkened Steve’s door. Not once. And because Steve apparently hadn’t had enough combustible encounters of late, he went looking.

The bell was about to go when he got to the bleachers—and no Hargrove. Steve had half a mind to skip next period; it was history and he hated history—so fucking boring, and he hadn’t done the homework—so when he circled to the back of the metal stands and saw something pale on the ground underneath, he happily let it draw his feet nearer.

It was… a horse. A small, roughly carved wooden horse, about the height and length of his palm. Not like, a detailed horse, just the vague shape of a narrow face, a curving neck, a stout torso, and four straight simple legs. No hooves, no tail. But still, undeniably a horse.

He thought it was kinda neat, so he took it home with him, put it on his bedside table next to the alarm clock.

The following week, when he scouted the bleachers again—driven from the lunchroom because Nancy and Jonathan had been making goo-goo eyes at each other and it was still a bit fresh, that particular wound—around the same place he’d spotted the last carving, he found a wooden… bear? Or maybe a fat dog, but the rounded ears and butt were reading more “bear.”

He took that one home with him, too. Had the silly passing thought that it was nice for the horse to have company. A friend.

It was the third time patrolling that he confirmed what some small incredulous part of him had been theorizing all along. Steve skipped lunch entirely, went the long way around to approach the bleachers from behind, stopped at a distance nonetheless.

Because there, leaning against the announcer’s booth, high up in the stands, hunched over his lap, one leg hanging loose between the slats of the seats, was Billy Hargrove.

Steve would know that mullet anywhere.

Smoke drifted above him, dissipating lazy. Occasionally the hanging leg swung a bit, sort of childlike, which was—a fucking trip. Steve stayed where he was, just watching awhile, then, not knowing what he’d do or say if Hargrove spied him spying, and not wanting to disturb his peace at any rate, he turned and walked back the long way again.

So he could just—think.

When he snuck over to the bleachers before driving home the next afternoon, curiosity getting the better of him, he learned what Hargrove had been whittling that time.

It was unfinished. Maybe he’d grown frustrated, because it was more ambitious than his previous figures: the beginnings of a bearded face, its features only just manifesting from the fine-grained block.

Nearby, half-hidden on the dirt ground, was another surprise. He would’ve missed it if it hadn’t gleamed, catching the sun precisely at the right moment, because its handle was the exact shade of the surrounding moldering maple leaves—this deep reddish brown.

A knife.

But not really the kind of knife he’d imagine in Hargrove’s possession—and not the folding pocketknife he’d glimpsed before. No, this was—an antique? Sharp blade about three inches long, and the handle this weird oblong shape, the letters WGF burned into the wood toward the base.

And maybe he should’ve left it there—because Hargrove would notice it was gone, was bound to come looking where he last had it—but Steve was selfish. A bit of a jerk.

So he pocketed both. Didn’t add them to his bedside collection, though.

No, they were still in his pocket the following day, a Friday, as he strode, heart hammering, to the bleachers, ears ringing like the lunch bell forgot to shut up.

Hargrove was already there, pacing under the stands, cursing under his breath, the dirt bare from frantic swipes.

Steve cleared his throat—and holy fuck that was a switchblade, that was a switchblade Hargrove had whipped out in one fluid movement as he whirled, the steel flashing free.

“Please don’t gut me for real!” It was choked, high and hysterical, hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry—I just—” Fumbling, he reached into his coat, drew out the knife.

The moment Hargrove saw it, he darted, quick as a cat, and snatched it from limp fingers.

“I—uh, found it,” Steve finished, lamely.

Hargrove didn’t look at him, busy sliding the knife into a worn leather sheath he’d produced from somewhere in his jacket. He tucked both it and the folded switchblade back out of sight, and Steve faintly wondered just how many knives Hargrove carried on his person.

“You waiting for thanks or something?” Hargrove asked, his tone very much indicating that thanks would not be forthcoming.

“What—what is it? The knife?” Steve asked, because he did, after all, have a death wish. “It’s… important?”

Maybe he should just let Hargrove stab him, Steve thought, mentally face-palming. Put him out of his misery.

Hargrove glared at him a long moment, then—to Steve’s everlasting shock—he answered. “A sloyd knife. My morfar’s—grandpa’s.”

“Oh,” Steve said, heartened, trying to work up the nerve to—just do it. Haltingly, he drew the bearded figure from his pocket. “For—um, carving stuff?”

Hargrove stared at the misshapen block of wood, unreadable, but Steve firmly reminded himself he’d faced down monsters from a hell dimension, and soldiered on.

“Is it him? Your… morfar?” Did his best to repeat the sounds, awkward.

Hargrove blinked, still didn’t respond.

Steve waved his extended arm a bit, encouraging. “You should finish it.”

Finally, fucking finally, Hargrove reached out, took it.

Sensing he was fast overstaying his welcome, Steve backstepped, nodding sharply, and turned toward the parking lot—then jerked around again.

“I’m not a perv,” he blurted. Because there wasn’t any graceful way to say it, he’d realized, flushing hot in the cool air.

Hargrove cracked a smile, a small little thing, and Steve stupidly traced it with his eyes, riveted. “I know.” He scuffed the dirt with a dusty boot. “She said you were—babysitting.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, silently thanking Max with his entire being. “I was. Doing that.”

And to ensure he didn’t humiliate himself further, Steve spun, marched to the school entrance without looking back.

He spent the next week avoiding Hargrove, not wanting to seem like the stalker he was in case the guy had put two and two together on the lack of discarded carvings among the leaves.

After last bell, students pouring across the parking lot en route to weekend plans, Steve trudged alone to his car, which would convey him to an empty house. His key was in the door before he saw it, perched on the windshield wiper.

A rugged face above slouching shoulders, slender waves gouged in his moustache and beard that suited the curly hair peeking beneath one of those old-fashioned caps with the short brim.

He looked up, unconsciously seeking the spot Hargrove always parked, and saw him leaning against the Camaro, staring back.

Steve smiled.

…🔪🔪🔪 …

Edited to add, in case anyone’s curious:

All about Dala horses

Carved bear looked like this

All about Sloyd/Slöjd knives

#harringrove #swedish billy #harringroveforturkey #harringrove for turkey #this was a much-needed fluffy break from the angst fic #so EXTRA thanks to inhi #billy hargrove #steve harrington

[ctrl-shift-escape]

Brief tracker of the events I can remember for next time:

Jan 11th 5:30 am: I wake up to my alarm in various states of shock. I might not react to the alarm until much later depending on whether I land the end right. Also figure out a way to shut off my alarm clock: it is getting a bit annoying hearing about the whole Wordpress and Twitter thing honestly.

Jan 11th 11:30 am: The housefire I mentioned happens. Well, it's not actually a housefire but an apartment fire because someone leaves the stove on. This occurs around six blocks down from where I live. The fire does not kill anyone, and it is quickly contained.

Jan 11th 2:00 pm: A shooting occurs on the opposite side of harbor where I live. It involves several high school kids and the local Checkers. Police state they don't know why the shooting happened or why the high school students are out of school in the first place. Two of the high school kids are in critical condition. I will follow up on this story later.

Jan 11th 7:00 pm: An 11-year old boy is run over by a driver in a hit-and-run. Witnesses say the driver struck the child, paused and then drove on, jumping the curb and smacking a mailbox while they did so. The boy is in critical condition. I could not find any news of this during the next three days or whether the child died or get better.

Jan 11th 11:00 pm: Powerball Drawing: 04 08 46 47 48 05.

Jan 12th 2:00 am: Not sure if this is a gun or an engine backfiring, but I do hear something that sounds like a gunshot very close. This is also the time where the apartment hallway is most clear. Goal is to walk the hallway.

Jan 12th 9:00 am: A 23-year old man named Maurice is discovered dead inside his apartment, closer to downtown than the harbor. He's been dead for a lot longer. I'm not sure if I should touch this one because I really don't want people to think I'm the murderer.

Jan 12th 2:00 pm: This is more for me than an important event. The boss of my current commission (and several past ones) goes to yell at me for the work I didn't do because it is tedious to keep doing it cause of the time loop. I should really just post the code onto Tumblr and just copy it every day to send to him. But at the same time, I really just want to do something that would make his life a lot less enjoyable.

Jan 12th 4:00 pm: The big McDonalds fire happens several blocks down but closer to the city than the harbor. A frycook panics and throws water at a deep fryer fire, resulting in flaming oil splattering all over the place and catching more stuff on fire. Fire Department is called and attempts to cross over Central Ave (why are there are so many streets called Central Ave?), only to find that a three-vehicle accident blocks the street, including one rollover. The McDonalds fire is part of a block complex of shops and takes out that entire row of shops and apartments. Several people die as a result.

Jan 12th 7:30 pm: A bodega is robbed at knifepoint. The cashier is stabbed after telling the robbers there is no money and dies. Police is offering a cash prize for the identity of robbers.

Jan 12th 11:00 pm: My boss gets even madder and starts sending very angry texts about how worthless I am and how I should be grateful he's giving me scraps and that I should be honored to know that he's a big tech bigshot. He never mentions where though. I should probably block my boss from the very start. This is a thought.

Jan 13th 5:00 am: Something hits my window, I noticed. I live on the 4th floor. It might be a bird.

Jan 13th 9:00 am: Boss says I should prepare to lawyer up unless I do my work right now.

Jan 13th 5:00 pm: The first of several emergency text messages come through the phone about staying inside and stuff. I try calling the phone number, the nuclear power plant, and the police department. All of them are busy assisting other callers or just redirect me to somewhere else.

Jan 13th 7:21 pm: The power plant explodes. The loop resets.

#event tracker #log tag

[in-tua-deep]

Oooooo the red bock au sounds so interesting! Does Five caught himself thinking of his brothers just as numbers and weapons like Reginald talks in his book? Does he read Vanya book to remind himself that they are still human even though he reads it through lens of someone hurt by them all? And I feel like the handler would know either way about the books but o it's so much fun to see five being paranoid

I think having both books and both perspectives reminds Five that... he’s getting some very biased accounts of his own siblings. I think that when he’s still young, he writes down as many memories as he can remember because... he starts to forget, at some point. 

Vanya’s book talks about how volatile Diego and Luther’s relationship is, and so Five writes down the time Luther and Diego teamed up to toss Five off a balcony when Five kept switching the pens in their hands with pipe cleaners during a lesson (and he will maintain until his dying day that he was just practicing his control, c’mon guys!)

when Reginald’s notes call Allison an “insufferable, narcissistic creature,” Five remembers Allison bribing him to cause trouble and distract Reginald so that she could use the microwave unobserved to heat up some water bottles as makeshift heat packs for Luther’s sore muscles

when Vanya calls Ben “easily manipulated,” Five recalls Ben arguing theories with him at 2am after one of Ben’s training sessions where Ben almost flipped his bed when Five jokingly suggested that he could use the horror’s tentacles to bounce up and down like a pogo stick before Ben tackled him and tried to beat Five to death with an encyclopedia of sea creatures (affectionately)

I think having Reginald’s journal actually helps in a lot of ways, because Five automatically autocorrects literally all of Reginald’s thoughts to be like, mostly inaccurate and much harsher than they need to be. So when he reads Vanya’s journal he also autocorrects and is able to recognize that it is a very biased and somewhat harsh view of his siblings

(he doesn’t distrust them as much as he does in canon, with only Vanya’s harsh words to cling to with no reminder that they were all raised by a man capable of unfathomable cruelty, no reminder that authors can be oh so biased)

outside of his equations, there’s notes to himself written in the margins of Vanya’s book. Sometimes they’re just small, pointing out that Klaus had fought to include Vanya in trap week (Klaus then proceeded to team up with her and managed to catch Five in a snare - he actually still has a scar around his ankle from his upsidedown thrashing before he managed to steal one of Diego’s knives to cut himself down) or pointing out that Luther’s chilly attitude when they were ten was probably the result of Vanya outperforming him in every standardized test they took because of Luther’s ridiculous inferiority-superiority complex

at the very least he has comparison, because Reginald’s book calls Klaus an absolute failure while Vanya’s book called him “sweet, as a child at least”

As for the Handler... she’s aware that he has Vanya’s book and a red notebook, but I don’t think she actually knows what’s in the red notebook! Reginald was notoriously secretive, after all

So the Handler assumes that the red notebook is where Five keeps his time travel equations because aw, he hasn’t given up! how cute!

She makes an assumption that, logically, makes sense. Of course Five is still trying to figure out time travel, no matter how much he denies it! Of course he’s writing the equations down! What a silly boy, thinking that he could hide this from her, of course she knows about his little plans to save his siblings ;3c

And because she’s so powerful and knowledgeable and one step ahead all the time, she makes an assumption and assumes that it is fact. Because she’s so smart, of course she isn’t wrong! She’s had Five clocked from day one!

(The Handler thinks she has Five all figured out, a creature so based in sentiment. Why would he carry a book around that details the torture his siblings went through? He hates his father, why would he ever carry around his father’s notebook! The Handler has a fatal flaw, and it is that she doesn’t understand loyalty and sneers at sentiment and those are two of Five’s most powerful driving factors. Five lives for his siblings and would die for his siblings, almost his entire life has been dedicated to saving them. Not the world, just his family.) 

(She understands that Five considers his family to be exceptionally valuable, but doesn’t comprehend that Five is 100% willing to die for them should it come down to it. Why on earth would anyone value something like siblings over their own life? Absurd. I genuinely believe that the Handler thinks she could get Five to betray his siblings with the right leverage, and so she fundamentally does not understand Five as a person)

To be fair to the Handler, the whole academy’s morals and just. completely and utterly fucked. Luther condemns the murder of innocent civilians even if it would save the planet but doesn’t blink an eye at killing the ‘bad guy’ Commission agents. Diego stabs criminals as a pastime while still holding himself at a moral high ground for saving people, despite the fact that too many criminals are forced into crime by unfair circumstances. Allison used her powers to bolster her career without even blinking but now refuses to use her powers at all because of the manipulation of one (1) child, not even against ‘bad guys.’ 

I mean. Vanya wrote an entire salt book without consulting her siblings that had lasting impacts on at least one of her sibling’s career in the public eye and potentially impacting her siblings relationships with everyone who had every read the spark notes on her book, without the opportunity for reprisal. Publishing your entire family’s dirty laundry as personal emotional catharsis is... kind of a dick mood, lets be real. Especially when you were all abused children raised in an environment of excessive violence and rigid structure. 

Like yeah, of course Allison is good at manipulation and lying - she grew up with an abusive and over-controlling father. She probably lied as easily as breathing about where she’d been, who she was with, what she was doing, etc. The only privacy they got in that household was what they seized with their own hands and carved out for themselves! Is it fair to say that Allison’s superpower is dishonestly?

Is it fair to say that Klaus got crueler as he grew? He was tortured and turned to drugs as an unhealthy coping mechanism, and then he sat down at a table and looked at all the other little kiddies who did not get locked into a crypt overnight. In fact, there was one child who never got any extra training at all! Can you imagine the jealousy? The bitterness? Klaus might have been exceptionally cruel to Vanya as a teenager, she had everything he wanted and dared to complain about it. Can you imagine listening to someone wistfully wish they could join in on missions when you know that the cost for doing so has been carved out of your soul?

My point is, none of these little bitches have anything that resembles a sane moral compass. They’re unpredictable as fuck! It’s like herding cats! You never know what they’re going to do next! Oh? Are they going to investigate in any logical pattern? No, because Diego just remembered Patch exists and helping her print flyers for the annual police ball is more important than saving the world or whatever lol

Luther is over there investigating the moon! The moon! Meanwhile Allison is breaking and entering her sister’s student’s house because she got shady vibes off of him one time and she has never heard of a proportionate action in her life. 

Meanwhile Vanya is going through the phone book trying to call up psychiatrists who have any familiarity with whatever fucked up meds Dad put her on because like, she would like to Not Be On Them (fuck you dad) but also understands that danger of quitting cold turkey something you have been taking for years and would like a professional opinion on how to safely decrease and eventually eliminate her usage, thanks (Klaus is hanging over her shoulder pointing out the ones who will sell you non-prescription drugs for a price and Vanya mentally crosses those ones off of her list to call)

Five is probably joining on the breaking and entering because Allison promised she would sweet talk to eye dude if he did her this solid 

(Five complains at length about how investigating the apocalypse should not be a solid because she would 100% die as well if the apocalypse came to pass)

#the red book au #plus like. some thoughts and opinions lmao #look Vanya's book was healing and cathartic for her #does that mean it should have been published? #FUCK NO #it's biased as all fuck for starters and could genuinely impact her siblings jobs and relationships #anyway the hargreeves are all cats #they do their own thing regardless of what they should be doing #their orders of priorities are fucked tbh #what do you mean vanya's job isn't equally as important as saving the world? #she has to pay rent somehow five !! #klaus is down to go threaten a seedy dude but can they investigate dad's will after pretty please? #maybe there's a clue! or numbers about inheritance! #if dad disowned them then diego is forging the will tbh #not because he wants the bastard's money but it's the PRINCIPLE of the thing #Anonymous #long post #far tua long

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

A week passes, and her interaction with Agent Mulder fades into the recesses of her memory. She files it away under “times a cute guy hit on me,” alongside overly friendly waiters and optimistic students.

She and Ethan’s anniversary is coming up next week and she’s been grappling with the best gift to get him; something practical or indulgent? He is a prolifically thoughtful gift-giver and she feels pressure on each special occasion to select the perfect thing to give him, though the pressure comes only from herself. She’s contemplating this as she finishes up an autopsy, replacing the organs in the chest cavity and suturing up the Y-incision.

“Dana,” the pathologist about to come on shift calls out to her, “someone is asking for you.”

“I’ll just be about ten minutes, Trudy. Who is it?” she returns, gently settling the young woman’s liver back into her body.

Trudy shrugs. “Tall guy in a suit, cute, dark hair.”

She feels a flutter in her belly and then immediately chastises herself.

“Tell him I’ll be right there, please.”

She apologizes internally to the decedent as she rushes through the final steps, not taking quite as much care as she typically does.

After scrubbing her hands and fixing her hair, she steps into the hallway to find Agent Mulder sitting on a bench. His back is against the wall, his long legs crossed casually as he studies the art hung opposite him. He looks so composed and confident it unnerves her.

“Agent Mulder, what can I do for you?” she asks, forcing confidence she does not feel into her own voice.

The smile that lights up his face when he turns to look at her makes her flush, and she can feel the heat in her cheeks. Being unable to hide her emotional response behind her fair complexion has always been something she resents.

“Scully, good to see you. I wanted to follow up on the Dugan case, you said you were interested in understanding the motivation behind your autopsy findings,” he says as he stands and walks towards her, his tall frame looming above her such that she has to look up at his face. He stands close enough that she can smell his aftershave and see the stubble coming in on his cheeks.

“Oh, yes, I was curious about that,” she replies, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Why does this man make her so nervous?

“If you’d like, you can meet with the lead behavioral analyst on the case. They can tell you how they drew parallels between the wound pattern you observed and the perpetrator profile,” he offers, a slight tilt to his head as his green eyes jump around her face as though he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“That would be great, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that,” she replies self-consciously, feeling as though she asked for something she shouldn’t have, even though she’d never requested this.

“Do you have time today?” he asks, lifting his wrist to glance at his watch. She knows it’s just past 4 pm.

“Um, yes, actually, I’m done with classes for the day and that was my last autopsy. I was just going to do paperwork for a bit, but I can defer it until tomorrow.”

A small smirk flashes on his mouth, but quickly disappears.

“Alright, why don’t you meet them at that cafe you mentioned in, say, thirty minutes?” he asks.

“Okay, that should work,” she replies, “what’s their name, so I can find them?” She should have just about enough time to change and get there by 4:30.

His eyebrows lift as though he just realized he forgot something, and he pauses before continuing.

“Uh, Fox. His name is Fox. I’ll describe you to him, he’ll find you.”

“Fox?” she asks dubiously, “is that a real name?”

He purses his lips. “Sadly, yes.”

“Alright, well, thank you, Agent Mulder. It was, um...it was good to see you again.” She extends her hand with her chin held high, trying to portray an air of professionalism and not one of a girl with a crush, which is how he makes her feel.

He takes her hand and smiles at her warmly, a little something coy behind his eyes.

“Likewise. I hope to see you again very soon,” he says confidently, and she feels her belly tumble yet again.

——————————————————————————

He stands in the hallway until Scully disappears into the staff locker room, then books it over to Cafe Adamo to get a quiet table in the corner. He’s not sure exactly what he’s after here; she has a boyfriend after all. He just hasn’t been able to get her out of his head all week. When the lead analyst on the Dugan case had a family emergency and needed to take leave, he jumped at the opportunity to take over the case, getting a little thrill from reading over her report and incorporating it into his profile. It felt as though they were creating something together.

He watches the clock, a pit in his belly as he wonders how she’ll react to learning that he tricked her into having coffee with him. He barely knows her, but gets the sense that she doesn’t take shit from anyone. That is, in fact, what draws him to her. Well, that and those plush pink lips. He hasn’t been this affected by anyone since he and Valerie split.

When the door swings open and she steps through in fitted jeans and a black T-shirt, he feels a wave of nausea. She’s even more beautiful in street clothes than she was in scrubs, her tiny waist curving up into a modest bustline. She scans the room and when her eyes fall on him, she quirks her head to the side and her eyebrows knit in confusion. His heart starts to pound and he stays glued to his seat, watching her traverse the room until she reaches him and gives him an expectant look.

He holds out his hand. “Fox Mulder,” he says with a guilty smile, and she lifts her chin before tucking it to her chest, taking his hand with a pensive expression.

“I see,” she says, her tone skeptical. It’s clear that she is unsure of his intentions.

“I am the lead behavioral analyst on this case, for the record. I am now, anyway,” he offers, and watches her doubt deepen. What the hell did he think was going to happen, catfishing an unavailable woman into a date? “Will you sit?” he asks hopefully, and she does, though he can tell by her posture that she is one wrong move away from fleeing the scene.

Someone comes by and takes their coffee order, and he sets his profile on the table, getting right to the reason he asked her here lest she think he’s completely full of shit.

“You noted that the victim was stabbed repeatedly in the exact same location, giving the appearance of one wound,” he explains, “we’ve seen something similar with the other victims, and at this time my theory is that the perp lost someone close to them in this manner, perhaps a family member or parent. I believe they’re re-creating the injury that killed their loved one, though because these crimes are so rage-fueled they feel compelled to injure the victim more extensively than just the one wound. The repeated stabbing in the same location provides an outlet for that rage while preserving the one-wound injury that is the cause of death.”

She reads over his profile with interest, nodding along as he speaks. “That’s very interesting,” she says, lifting her head to look at him, and he feels a swell of pride at her praise. “You had to trick me into getting coffee with you to tell me that?” she adds flatly, and now it’s him who is blushing.

She smiles victoriously at having made him uncomfortable, a bright, dazzling, toothy smile, and he’s overwhelmed by how attracted he is to her. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again and just shrugs.

Their coffee is delivered and he watches intently as she licks at the foam on her cappuccino. Her blue irises dart up to meet his and he startles at having been caught, picking up his own cup and taking a big gulp that burns the roof of his mouth.

“Your name sounds very familiar,” she begins, “why do I feel like I’ve heard it before?”

“Uh, I had a bit of a reputation at one time,” he says with a regretful tone. “Are you familiar with the X files?”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Spooky Mulder,” she says with realization, “that’s where I’ve heard your name.”

He grimaces. “Not my favorite nickname, but yes, guilty as charged.”

“But you’re in the BSU now? Not on the X files anymore? I’m surprised I’ve never seen you around Quantico,” she remarks, and he can see her relaxing a bit.

“No, the X files division was shut down a couple years ago. I was in the BSU before I reopened the X files, and transferred back after I was reassigned. I’m part of a small BSU team that works out of the Hoover building, so I’m not down here all that often these days.”

“Why was the X files division shut down?” she asks before licking more foam from the rim of her mug, and he shifts in his seat.

“Well, how much time do you have?” he asks with a shy smile, “it’s a long story.”

She returns his smile. “Not that much time. So you’re into aliens and all that paranormal stuff?”

“Well, let me ask you this, Scully,” he says, leaning in, “do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

She gives him an incredulous look, but answers. “Logically, I’d have to say no.” He nods and sits back, but she continues. “Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft’s capabilities…”

“Conventional wisdom,” he interrupts, “I just happen to disagree with it.”

“On what basis?” she asks, curious but not derisive, which is what he’s used to getting in response to his theories.

“If you’d seen what I’ve seen, Scully, you’d understand why I believe in such extreme possibilities.”

She tilts her head expectantly. “Do tell, Agent Mulder. Or should I call you Fox?” she asks with a haughty tone, though a playful one, and he blushes again.

“Please, it’s just Mulder. I even make my parents call me Mulder. I’m sure you can understand why with a first name like Fox.” She makes a face that says she can’t argue with that, and he continues. “I’ve seen things, Scully, things that defy all logic and can’t be explained by the laws of science. Repeat abductees, men who can stretch their bodies and travel through the slats of a heater vent, prehistoric monsters dwelling in the woods.” She’s giving him a doubtful expression, one eyebrow cocked suspiciously. He laughs a little. “I know I sound crazy, but it’s just crazy enough to be true. When convention and science offer us no answers, might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?”

She screws up her mouth, politely suppressing the “you are certifiably nuts” expression that wants to present on her face. He’s used to it, and takes no offense.

“What I find fantastic, Mulder, is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there, you just have to know where to look,” she says in a tone that is both playful and sincere.

He smiles at her, sure he looks like a total dope. This conversation is more intellectually stimulating than any he’s had in months.

“You should come see the X files sometime, Scully. Tell me how you make scientific sense of what you see.”

“You have them?” she asks with wide eyes.

He shrugs guiltily. “I may have acquired a few on my way out.”

Her head dips lower in disbelief. “Is that allowed?”

“No, definitely not,” he answers with a chuckle. If only she knew the extent of his flaunting of bureau policy during his time on the X files.

She smiles at him in a way that he can only interpret as openly flirtatious, an acknowledgement that she finds his insubordinate behavior a little bit enticing. As suddenly as the smile appears, it vanishes and she checks her watch.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she says as she stands.

“Right, you’ve got somebody waiting for you,” he says with a regretful tone.

She looks at him guiltily, then thanks him for the coffee and leaves. He sits there for a long while, staring at the door she exited through.

“Shit,” he says aloud to no one.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #alternate universe #fanfiction

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 6

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

To say that I was doing well after I left Derek’s house would be a lie. I really don’t understand why it hurts so much. We barely knew each other outside of a few encounters. Was it just me that felt the aching in my chest? I want to believe that he felt the same thing, but that seemed selfish. That I wanted him to miss me. That I dreamed of him showing up at my window and begging to see me. But that wouldn’t be real, that was a fantasy. Derek would never act like that. That was just my fantasy. 

I promised Stiles I wouldn’t get romantically involved with Derek, but it was more painful than I have ever imagined. 

-

I sat in Coach Finstock’s office while the school day went on. Relacing the netting on the crosses that were used in case any of the players broke their own. The repetitive movements were mind numbing so it was probably for the best. I could zone out and not think about Derek. 

Tonight was parent teacher conferences for some students who weren’t doing well academically, both Scott and Stiles were a part of that list. But who could blame them? One of them was a werewolf and the other was friends with the aforementioned werewolf. The weeks seemed to run together, it didn’t even feel like autumn yet, but we were halfway to winter. 

I had stayed away like I promised. The only times I even heard about Derek was from what Scott told Stiles. They were both planning on finding the alpha and taking him down together. That would be good for him. Good for both of them. I have been feeling so many emotions since then. A lot of anxiety and anger. But they never felt like my own. I sighed and rested my eyes for a minute, the repeated movements slowing my brain down enough to sleep on Coach’s desk. 

The man in front of me was badly burned, one side of his face was pink and muddled, much of his hair was burned on that side. 

“I need your help.” Derek’s voice echoed, “If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything. Just… Just something to point me in the right direction, okay?” The man, his Uncle Peter, stayed in the same position. 

He sighed, “Someone killed Laura. Your niece, Laura? Whoever he is, he’s an Alpha now… but he’s one without a pack, which means he’s not as strong. I can take him. But, I have to find him first.” Still no response. 

“Look, if you know something, just give me a sign. Is it one of us? Did someone else make it out of the fire?” 

Still getting no response, he became agitated, “Just give me anything! Blink! Raise a finger! Anything!” He growled, reaching for the man, “SAY SOMETHING”!

“Hey.” I jolted at the sound of Finstock’s voice. He stood in the doorway of his office. 

“You alright, kid?” He asked, his eyes went from my face to the crosse that I was aggressively fixing the net on. What was that? Was I… seeing what Derek was seeing? No, that was impossible. Insane even. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” I went back to relacing, tugging the knots taut and reaching for a lighter to burn the ends of the string so they wouldn’t unravel. 

“Do I need to kick his ass?” He asked, his large eyes looking a little more crazy than usual. He was trying to seem threatening, but I wasn’t threatened by his booming voice and looks anymore. He was alluding to someone not treating me right but it couldn’t be further from the truth. 

I chuckled a little, “No. It’s not his fault. He’s going through a lot right now.” I stood up and placed the crosse in the spare locker with the rest of them, “Besides, I probably shouldn’t be dating considering the last guy I was dating murdered my parents and tried to murder me.” The humor was dark, but what a way to cope. 

“Any news on that guy?” He stood up straight, walking to his desk. 

“Nope. I think he skipped town. He’s the feds' problem now.” 

“Does Stiles want to be a doctor?” He changed the subject, he was looking at a paper in his hand. 

“Uh… Not that I know of.” I shrugged. 

“Because he wrote a detailed history of male circumcision on his economics test.”

-

I got out late, well past the time the student teacher meetings were over. Filing records, grading a couple things for Finstock and ordering more pearls for the upcoming games since we were running low. These days really run together, especially when you’re trying to forget most of the year that happens. 

Speaking of happening, was I really seeing the same thing Derek could? It didn’t make sense. They were just random dreams. Like the one the other day where Derek was speaking to this woman about how she didn’t kill his sister. That was just a dream. But… Why could I feel sadness? Sadness, guilt and pain.

I got home, seeing that Stiles’ Jeep was nowhere in sight meaning that he was off to do more werewolf nonsense with Scott. I trusted Scott to keep him safe, but that didn’t mean I wanted Stiles running around where there was an alpha on the loose. 

That night I made dinner, ate, saved two plates for Uncle Noah and Stiles and sat in the living room. They were running a story on another body that had been found. A bus driver killed in an animal attack. They were calling it a mountain lion. A mountain lion was more likely than a werewolf normally. But here we are. Officially werewolf capital of the world. I turned off the TV and laid back on the cushions, closing my eyes. Maybe a couch nap would relax me a little, it would kill my back in the morning, but I would be able to tell when Stiles came home. 

Scott and Stiles were walking towards me across the school lawn, playfully pushing each other. 

“I’m gonna kill both of you.” Derek’s voice said, “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?” He was frustrated and angry, but also a little scared. Finding the alpha is what he needed to do, at the same time though, this person got the jump on Laura. 

“Sorry…I didn’t know it would be that loud…” Scott said sheepishly. 

“Yeah, it was loud… And it was awesome!” Stiles cheered. 

“Shut up.” Derek barked.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf.” Stiles mocked. 

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asked, looking around me. 

“What?” Derek asked, I turned to see an empty backseat, “I didn’t do anything…” I saw Scott and Stiles’ eyes widen as pain exploded through my back. Blood gushed from my mouth as I was lifted up. I was coughing and choking on my own blood. Pain and fear were running through me, my heart pumping so quickly causing more and more blood to gush from my mouth. The last thing I saw was the world rushing by me as I was thrown towards the school wall. 

I woke up before I made impact. My heart was racing and my back ached. I reached behind myself awkwardly. The only thing I felt was the raised bumpy scar from my stab wound. So it was just a dream, but it felt so real. So…Was it real? Did I just experience Derek…

I looked up at the clock and saw it was well into the early morning. I got up and made my way upstairs, Stiles’ door was slightly open and there was still light inside. I just went in, panic already starting to build in my chest. Stiles was sitting at his computer, he turned and looked up. He looked like he had a long night. 

“Stiles, is…” I swallowed thickly, “Is Derek d-…Dead?” My lip was trembling. He opened his mouth to answer then closed it.  He avoided my eyes. 

“I really don’t know.” He explained what happened at the school that night. How the alpha attacked them and chased them around the school and that when they got out, Derek’s body was gone. 

“I don’t know if he crawled off somewhere or if the alpha dragged him away before the cops showed up. But I’m pretty sure I won’t have to go back to school until Monday. We tried to blow the alpha up. And we also kinda blamed Derek for it.” 

I shook my head and chuckled, “Nice. Throwing a dead man under the bus, after all he’s done for me.” 

“It wasn’t my idea!” He shouted in a hushed tone, “We thought he was dead for sure. But now I don’t know. Besides, we couldn’t give up the big secret to a hunter’s daughter, a dick, and Lydia who has been through enough already.” I nodded and left the room. He called after me but I couldn’t be in the room anymore. Just… they could have blamed anyone. A rabid animal even, but they were blaming Derek. I closed the door and leaned against it, slowly sliding down until I met the floor. My chest felt tight and I wanted to cry. I had cried so much lately I didn’t know if I could. My emotions were running so high and it was so confusing? Why was everything so different? 

-

It was Monday morning and tonight was another full moon, meaning Scott was jumpy and could turn at any moment. The night before they had gone off to “hang” but Stiles was really bad at hiding the alcohol he had taken to get drunk with Scott. 

I was eating cereal at the kitchen table when Stiles came down. He was groaning and definitely hungover. 

“Booze doesn’t pay, does it?” I smiled. 

“You’re more chipper than usual.” He grimaced a bit, holding his head. 

“Not chipper, just really good at fakin’ it.” I went in for another spoonful. He looked away, hearing Uncle Noah coming through the kitchen on his phone. 

“We are watching his family’s house. Maybe he’ll wind up there?” Uncle Noah looked up, seeing Stiles, “Give me a second.”

“Don’t you have a test to get to?” He asked. 

“What’s going on? Did you find Derek yet?” Stiles asked, more pep in his voice. 

“I’m working on it. You go take your test.” He said firmly. 

“All right, Dad, listen to me-” Stiles stood up.

“Go!” He shouted, I had never heard him shout before. 

“This is really important! You have to be careful tonight, okay? Especially tonight.”

“Stiles, I’m always careful.”

“Dad, you’ve never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least, not like this.”

“I know. Which is why I brought in people who have. State detective. Go take your test.” Stiles grumbled but grabbed his book bag and left the house. Uncle Noah sighed and went back to his phone call as he followed Stiles out the door. 

-

Later on in the day, Stiles texted me. He probably shouldn’t be, especially with his test. 

STILES: Scott had a panic attack about Allison. He said he might kill someone.

I sighed, my thumbs dancing over the phone screen. 

(Y/N): Then we’ll chain him up so he can’t get out. I’ll pick up some chains at the hardware store.

-

After a stop at the hardware store, I got to the lacrosse fields where Coach Finstock was looking over a list. 

“How’s the pink-eye epidemic?” I asked. He rolled his eyes. 

“Real good, half of my players had to go on the bench. Goddammit, Greenberg.” I looked over the list. 

“Who’s Bilinski?” I squinted at his sloppy writing. 

“That one.” He pointed his pen towards Stiles. 

“You put Stiles on the first line?” I smiled, perhaps my subtle hints had worked. 

“Yeah, and we made McCall co-captain.” 

I blew air out of my mouth, “I’m sure Jackson shit a brick.” 

He shook his head, “Yeah, he’s not taking it well.”  I shrugged and made my way over to the bench where Scott and Stiles were in the middle of a conversation. I didn’t join, just listened in. 

“Yeah, she likes you. She’s totally into you.” Scott smirked. Stiles grinned, clearly excited. The She in this scenario could be none other than Lydia Martin. But there was something about Scott’s tone that threw me off. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia making her way to her seat in the bleachers, pulling out a compact mirror and fixing her lipstick. I didn’t want to believe that Scott would do that to his friend, but the facts were pointing towards it. 

Practice seemed to be going well, that is until Scott got pushed over during a practice run. I could practically feel his anger from across the field. 

“All right, you’re up, big boy! Let’s go!” Coach called. Scott retaliated this by knocking into another player, and sending him hard on his back. I winced, intaking a breath through my teeth. 

“That’s it, McCall! That’s the spirit! You earn it! Earn it, McCall!” Coach grinned. Maybe this is why we had so many players on the bench. Coach could see victory when Scott played. It was Stiles' turn on the offensive against Scott. With the full moon so close, I don’t think their friendship would do Stiles any favors, he shoved Stiles away just as hard and fast as the other player. Each time he got a goal. The next player, Danny, also was a victim of werewolf rage since Scott hit him in the face, sending him to the ground. I grabbed Coach’s whistle and blew it, calling for the play to pause. 

I jogged up to Danny and knelt down, some other players surrounded as well. 

“Danny, can you hear me?” He nodded slowly, holding his bleeding nose. I stood up, “Take him to the bench guys.” I walked back over to Stiles and Scott. 

“Everybody likes Danny. Now everybody’s gonna hate you.” 

“I don’t care.” Scott said smugly. Stiles shook his head and went back to the benches. 

“What the hell is your problem? You make co-captain and it goes to your head.” I shoved his shoulder. He breathed out, his eyes glowed yellow 

“You don’t want to mess with me right now.” 

I narrowed my eyes, “Is that a threat?” He smirked, his eyes going up and down my body. 

“It could be.” I looked at him in disgust. 

“First Lydia and now me? You’re a really shitty friend, Scott.” I made my way back to Stiles who was staring back at the bleachers. Jackson and Lydia were talking. 

“He did it.” He whispered. I squeezed his arm lightly. It was going to be a long night.

-

That night, Stiles and I went to the McCall’s house to get prepared for the full moon. Stiles carried a duffle bag to the best of his ability, even though it had the steel chains  and locks I had bought. One of the only reasons I came was so if I needed to I could get him out quickly. The other was because I didn’t know how he would react to the situation with Lydia. Stiles unlocked the door and went inside. Did Mrs. McCall know he had a key?“

Scott?” We heard her call. Mrs. McCall turned the corner and saw us in the hallway. She was in her scrubs, probably going in for a late night shift.

“Stiles.”

“And (Y/N).” I waved.

“Ah.” Her eyes went to Stiles' hand, she pointed, “Key.”

“Oh, yeah, I had one made.” Well, that answers that question. 

“That doesn’t surprise me. It scares me, but it doesn’t surprise me” And then, like a buffoon, Stiles dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud. 

“What is that?”

“Uh, school project.” He lied. Mrs. McCall, who either believed the lie or just wanted to change the subject, asked: “He’s okay, right?” 

“Who, Scott? Yeah, totally.” Stiles lied.

“He just doesn’t talk to me, not much anymore. Not like he used to.” She said somberly. I could only imagine that’s how my mom felt when I went into high school and into a phase where parents were uncool. 

“Well, he had a bit of a rough week.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Yeah. Um, okay. Uh, be careful tonight.” 

“You, too.”

“Full moon.” She looked out the window. Stiles and I stiffened. 

“What?”

“There’s a full moon tonight. You should see how the ER gets. Brings out all the nutjobs.” 

“Oh.” He breathed out, both of our shoulders dropped.

“Yeah…” She said awkwardly. 

“Right…”

“You know, it’s, um, actually where they came up with the word "lunatic.”

-

We opened the door to Scott’s room. Stiles dropped the duffel and turned on the lights. We both jumped when we saw Scott sitting in his computer chair. 

“Oh my god.” I put a hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath. 

“Dude, you scared the hell out of us. Your mom said you weren’t home.”

“I came in through the window.” he said blankly. Stiles and I shared a glance. 

“Okay, um, let’s get this set up.” Stiles bent down to get into the duffel bag that was near the radiator, “(Y/N) got the heavy duty stuff.” I kept my distance from Scott, staying right by the door, ready to grab Stiles and book it. 

“I’m fine,” Scott said, causing us both to stare, “I’m just gonna lock the door and turn in early.” We all knew a door wouldn’t stop him, he had other plans in mind. 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, “Cause you got this kinda serial killer look goin’ on in your eyes. I’m hopin’ it’s the full moon taking effect cause it’s starting to freak me out.” 

“I’m fine.” Scott repeated, “You should both go home.” 

“Alright, we’ll leave.” He stood up then stopped, clearly trying to put his back up plan into motion, ‘Well would you at least look in the bag and see what we bought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don’t.”

“Just in case you’re feeling a little anxious.” I smiled. Scott got up and walked to the duffel bag. He bent down and pulled out the thick, metal chains. 

“You’re thinking I would put these on? Chain me up like a dog?” He snarled and dropped the chains. 

“Actually, no.” Stiles quickly pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slapped him on Scott’s wrist, chaining him to the heater. I grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away when Scott lunged. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Scott growled. 

“Protecting you from yourself.” Stiles sighed and glared, “And giving you payback. For making out with Lydia.” And there it was. Maybe I should have checked the bag for other items he bought. He went downstairs, leaving me and Scott in the bedroom. 

“(Y/N), uncuff me!” He struggled. 

I shook my head, “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I don’t have the key.” 

He lunged and growled, causing me to jump. I looked away, embarrassed that I was showing him that I was afraid. But I was afraid. I’ve known this kid practically his entire life and he was turning into a completely different and dangerous person. 

“You like that? Hmm?” He hummed suggestively. I shook my head, talking to him was probably going to just make things worse. Thankfully, Stiles had come back…with a dog bowl.

“I brought you some water.” He said, pouring water from a bottle into the bowl and setting it down in front of Scott.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU” Scott roared and threw the bowl at Stiles.

“Stiles…” I whispered. The situation was getting dangerous. 

“You kissed her, Scott! Okay? You kissed Lydia. And that’s my…The one girl that I have-'' Stiles shook his head, “You know, for the past three hours, I’ve been thinking it’s probably just the full moon, you know? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing and tomorrow he’ll be back to normal. He probably won’t even remember what a complete dumbass he’s been. A son of a bitch. A frickin’ unbelievable piece of crap friend.”

“She kissed me.” Scott interrupted. 

“What?” Stiles looked so betrayed. 

Scott grinned menacingly, “I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me.” Stiles glared and walked out of the room, I followed behind. 

“She had her hands all over me, she would have done anything I wanted! ANYTHING!” Scott’s voice rang through the house. Stiles paced back and forth outside the door. 

“Stiles?” Scott called through the door, “Please let me out. It’s the full moon, I swear! You know I wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. Stiles, let me out. This is starting to hurt. You said it, Stiles, it’s the full moon. It’s Allison breaking up with me. It’s not just a break, she broke up with me. It’s killing me! I’m feeling hopeless. Just let me out.” Stiles paused, looking towards the door. I looked him in the eye, shaking my head. 

“He’s just trying to make you feel bad.” 

Stiles nodded, “I can’t.” He called. 

“No! No no no!” Scott shouted, followed by screaming. And then silence. Stiles opened the door, Scott was gone. Only broken handcuffs remained. I grabbed a set of chains and started going downstairs. 

“Stiles, stay here.” 

“(Y/N)!” He called, grabbing my arm before I went out the door. 

“Stay put.” I glared, shutting the door behind me. Scott was a sweet kid normally. But if I needed to keep Stiles safe and if that meant knocking out a couple of his teeth then I would. I went around back to his window and followed the path of broken grass into the woods. I gripped onto the chains tightly, ready to swing if I needed to. My plan had been to knock him out and chain him to a tree. Not sure how well that would work though. 

I stopped in a clearing, having lost the trail. Behind me a twig snapped. I’ve always been an act first, ask questions later in these situations. I swung the chain, cracking Scott across the face. My eyes widened at the state of him. Like Derek, he had coarse hair growing down his cheeks, the bridge of his nose was scrunched up and appeared more animal like, his brow bone protruded. His jawline though? Still weird. 

Scott’s head had swung to the side with the chain, he looked back slowly, and glared as he spit blood onto the ground. The scrape on his cheek healed almost immediately. 

Ha ha, I’m in danger.

“Scott.” I said cautiously, taking a slow step back, “You know me. I’m your friend.” He wasn’t moving closer, but he also hadn’t stopped looking at me with his glowing yellow eyes like I was food. 

“So, uh, you blow off your steam. Do some running, clear your head, that good stuff. And I will see you tomorrow. Okay?” I smiled nervously, he didn’t answer, “Okay.” Now it was time to run since I had gotten myself a decent head start. I turned and ran, hearing a roar and footsteps behind me. I threw the chains back over my head, hoping to trip him or hit him in the head. That didn’t seem to do much since he didn’t slow down. 

All at once I was body slammed to the ground and turned on my back. Scott was sitting on top of me, leaning down he roared loudly in my face. His large pointed canines shone in the moonlight. 

I screamed, shoving and kicking at him, “SCOTT! SCOTT PLEASE!” He thrusted a clawed hand down towards my chest that I barely caught. He seemed slightly confused, but pushed down. I whined, using everything I had keeping his sharp claws from my chest. I couldn’t even breathe.

“Scott, please don’t hurt me.” I begged through my teeth. He roared again, raising his other arm to strike when something flashed across my vision. Whatever it was, it knocked Scott off of me. I gasped for air, my lungs and  muscles were screaming at me. The two began to fight, growling and snarling. I sat up, scrambling to get out of the direction of the brawl. I couldn’t see much in the dark since the clouds had covered the moon, but whoever it was got Scott on the ground, roaring down at him. The other stood up straight just as the moon’s light peaked through. And there stood Derek Hale - tall, proud, and very much alive.

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

Read part 7 here!

Oh boy, who could have seen that coming? Anyone who’s seen season 1, that’s who. 

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Comment below or message me about being on the taglist :)

You Saved Me tag:

@nyotamalfoy

@fruitloopzzz

@babygirl-angel-love

@aestheticeggs (hi eggy)

#derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader

[wondernimbus]

conflicted — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

prompt: fred’s joke shop dreams are a little worrying.

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

Is she cross with Fred?

Yes. But it's not her fault.

Or at least that's what she tells herself, because her pride is much too high for her to admit otherwise.

"I just don't—I don't get him," says [Y/N] with a deep, frustrated sigh, scowling at the surface of the black lake. "I understand that that's what he's passionate about and he genuinely enjoys making prank products—and don't get me wrong as long as he's happy, I am too—but he's.. he's not even trying, George, and that's what's bothering me."

Beside her, George Weasley grunts. "Are you sure I'm the best person to be telling this to?" he asks uncertainly. Thankfully, today, he's not being as much of the joker he usually is; probably because he can tell [Y/N] is being deadly serious. "Freddie and I are literally on the same boat. I should be offended."

[Y/N] spares him a mere sideways glance before she lets out another heavy exhale and fixes her gaze back onto the lake. "You're the only other person I can think of who can get through to him," she tells George glumly. "Maybe you'll succeed where I've failed."

George wrinkles his nose.

The pair of them are sitting by the Great Lake on Hogwarts grounds, both staring intently into the murky surface as if waiting for the giant squid to come out and swallow them whole. Other students mill around, talking and laughing amongst themselves. A group of third-year Hufflepuffs is playing a very intense game of frisbee. Some students just lay on the grass, basking in the warm glow of the sun.

George and [Y/N], meanwhile, are hardly out here for sunbathing. In fact, the somber looks on their faces are a sharp contrast to the perfect picture of a bright summer's day happening all around them. [Y/N] had asked George to come talk to her today after she'd fought with her boyfriend—who happened to be his twin brother—Fred Weasley.

While [Y/N] and Fred rarely fought, whenever they did, it was usually about the same thing: Fred's future. Like a normal girlfriend, [Y/N] wants what's best for him, and she's not entirely certain Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is the right path for him to go down on.

"It's just—it's risking a lot, George," she mutters, absentmindedly plucking at an innocent blade of grass on the ground. "You guys are good at what you do and everything, but it's.. you're taking a shot in the dark, is what I'm saying."

George hums. "I really should be offended," he sniffs, adjusting his arms from where they're set atop his crossed knees. "But I suppose I get where you're coming from. You're worried."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Who?"

[Y/N] looks up at him, then shakes her head. "Nevermind. Forgot you weren't Muggle-born. Go on."

George shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Muggles."

"George."

"As I was saying," he continues, "The idea of a joke shop doesn't sound quite as promising as a job at old Saint Mungo's or the Ministry, but who cares? It's what Fred wants. It's what we want—hey, wait, why aren't you as worried for me as you are for Fred?"

George swivels around to face her, a look of proper hurt on his face. [Y/N] can't tell if it's fake or not, but it's certainly exaggerated—he's pulling abnormally large puppy eyes.

"Because you're not my boyfriend," says [Y/N], deadpan.

"I know, but I'm your friend—and future brother-in-law—"

Cringing, she groans, "Will you stop pulling that face, please, George? It's creeping me out."

George's face droops back to normal. "Whoops. My apologies, future sister-in-law who only cares about my brother's future but not mine."

[Y/N] rolls her eyes. "Let's be honest, George—if I stopped beating around the bush and asked you to drop all your joke shop plans, would you?"

The redhead doesn't even miss a beat. "No."

"But would you think about it?"

He pauses and makes to shake his head, but then after much thought, he nods. "I suppose. Would probably decide to go through with it in the end, though. It's a joke shop or nothing."

She sighs, once more frowning at the lake. "Fred wouldn't. Think about it, I mean. He'd say no right away. Makes you the more sensible one, as much as I hate to admit it, which means you just might be able to make a point to him."

A crease forms in between George's eyebrows. "You do realize that if I do end up changing his mind, that won't put me in a good place, right? I want to go through with the joke shop just as much as he does."

"I'm not asking you to change his mind," [Y/N] reassures him, pursing her lips. "I just want you to help him understand why I'm upset with him—he can't seem to figure it out by himself."

George snorts. "Bit of an understatement, innit? You'd think since we were twins it'd be the same, but Freddie's got a thicker skull than I do."

[Y/N] lets out a heavy breath through her nose, shoulders slumping dejectedly. "Trust me, George, I know."

—

"Are you cross with [Y/N]?"

"Yes, but it's not my fault."

Fred Weasley folds his arms over the table, scowling down at his plate like the sausages on it have committed a grave sin against him.

"What did you guys fight about?" asks Ginny, eyebrows arched as she shovels beans onto her plate. "Were you jealous of Harry again?"

"No—can you stop bringing that up, Gin? It happened once."

Ginny giggles. "If it's not that, then what is it?"

Someone slides into the seat next to Fred. It's George. "'Ello, Freddy. Why do you look like you've swallowed something sour?"

"Oh, piss off."

George clutches his chest like he's been fatally wounded. "Ouch."

"He and [Y/N] are fighting again," explains Ginny, an impish smirk blooming on her lips. Leaning over the table, she whispers to George, "I think he's jealous of someone again—d'you think it's Harry?"

Fred shoots his younger sister a glare. "I already said it wasn't—"

"Ah, good guess, Gin," George whispers back, playing along. "But not quite. See, I actually know why they're fighting—give me a galleon and I'll tell you."

Ginny withdraws back over the table and into her seat, rolling her eyes. "That won't be necessary. If it's not about Harry, it's probably the joke shop. Right?"

"It's never about Harry," Fred groans, dragging his palm over his face in frustration.

"There goes my galleon," George says sullenly, shoulders slumping. "But yes. Like a caring girlfriend, [Y/N] wants Fred to consider going down a career other than Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Through a mouthful of beans, Ginny says, "She has got a point."

"The same point as mum," Fred grumbles. "She knows it's what makes me happy but she's telling me to—"

"She's telling you to try, Freddy," George cuts him off, turning around in his seat to face his twin. "She's not asking you to change your mind—she wants you to at least try scraping an acceptable on your N.E.W.T.s."

Fred huffs, grabs a fork, angrily stabs it into an innocent sausage, and shovels it into his mouth all in one go. "You've got a lot of nerve telling me that, Georgey," he says, words just barely audible through his chewing. "Last time I checked, you're not studying for the tests either."

George grins. "Point taken, but I don't have a girlfriend to pester me about it, so I'm free to do whatever I want."

"You've got mum," Ginny chimes in. "She wants you to study, too."

"That's different."

"How so?"

George shrugs and twists back around in his seat to face the table properly. "Regardless of what happens, mum's always gonna be there, isn't she?" He gives Fred a sidelong glance. "A girlfriend, on the other hand—you never know when they might slip away. You've gotta hang onto them."

—

It's eleven at night when [Y/N] comes knocking on Fred's door.

Ten minutes before that, she'd been lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as her thoughts swirled with Fred and joke shops and N.E.W.T. scores.

Fred is passionate about pranking. It's what he's known and loved his entire life, and instead of leaving it behind with his adolescence, he wants to take it further into adulthood in the form of a joke shop. And to be honest, [Y/N] is certain no one can change his mind. Not her, not Molly—no one. Girlfriend or not, she can't tell him what career to go down on; if it makes him happy, then so be it. Right?

But what she wants him to do is to at least try. He's setting aside all of his other responsibilities and betting everything on a joke shop that might not even turn out to do well. The future is uncertain, and while Weasley's Wizard Wheezes might turn out to be incredibly successful, it could just as easily be a major flop.

And if, in that case, it doesn't go as planned, [Y/N] doesn't want him to look back years from now and regret not trying. He'd blame himself and go mad over all the what-ifs.

[Y/N] doesn't want that. She loves him too much to see him anything but happy.

—

The clock strikes eleven and a knock sounds on his door.

Fred looks up from where he'd been sitting by the windowsill. He's the only one left awake in their dorm room. Having known he wouldn't be able to doze off even if he tried, Fred has been sitting here by the window looking down onto the school grounds for the past hour, thinking.

Ah, thinking. He hates it, how he has to mull over everything in his head repeatedly only to come up short. It's why he acts rashly most of the time; why he does things without hesitation. It's so much easier to just go forward spearheaded—why think about things when it'll only slow you down?

It's why Fred's usually the one to operate his and George's pranks. Fred has the ideas and more drive, and George takes precautions so no one is hurt, and makes sure that the pranks will work. It's the same with their joke shop. George has actually considered taking on a different career (and Fred knows that he is still considering it, even though George won't admit it to him), but Fred is determined. He has his mind set—everything he's doing right now is for the joke shop. Considering a different career is out of the question.

Well, it's supposed to be, except [Y/N] wants him to.

And if anyone can convince him to do anything, it's [Y/N]. He hasn't told her yet, but he's in love with her. Stupidly, madly in love. And he doesn't need to tell her this because she already knows, but Fred is willing to do anything for her.

Is he willing to give up the joke shop, though? He's not so sure.

His mind a muddled mess, he rises from his seat on the windowsill and calls, "Coming!" without even pausing to think about who might be behind the door. So when Fred opens the door and sees [Y/N] standing there looking ridiculously small in the oversized sweater his mum gave her for Christmas, he doesn't quite know what to say.

"Hi," says [Y/N] in a timid voice, and it's ridiculous because she never sounds like that around him. [Y/N] is loud and affectionate and isn't afraid to speak what's on her mind, so seeing her like this knowing that he's the reason why is making him feel ten times more horrible than he already is.

"Hey," Fred grimaces, gripping tightly onto the door because he feels oddly unstable on his feet.

Scratching the back of her head, she chews on her bottom lip—a nervous tic Fred is all too familiar with—and asks, "Can we talk?"

"Aren't we talking already?" he jokes weakly, but he steps forward out into the hallway and closes the door behind him with a quiet snap.

Now that the sound of George's snoring has mostly been muffled, Fred and [Y/N] are submerged in uncomfortable silence. It's strange and suffocating and awkward all at the same time, because feeling uncomfortable around each other is a rarity. Fred can't recall the last time he ever felt this way around her. He's pretty sure the only time he did was when he'd first asked her out back then, all those months ago.

Judging from the look on [Y/N]'s face, she feels the same way.

She clenches her fists at her sides, and with the willpower of a thousand men, meets Fred's gaze. "Okay. First off—I'm sorry."

Fred stares at her. She keeps going, talking rapidly as though the words will fade away if she doesn't get them out fast enough, "Second of all, I was an arse for making you feel bad for doing what you love to do, and that's my fault and again I'm sorry but I want you to understand that I did it because I want what's best for you."

She pauses, running an aggravated hand through her hair.

Fred opens his mouth to say something, but she doesn't notice because her distressed gaze is glued to the floor. Unknowingly, she cuts him off and keeps rambling, "And I'm not saying that the joke shop won't do well but just in case it doesn't, the last thing I want you to do is to look back a couple years from now, regret not even trying to crack open a book or two, and blame yourself. I know I can't tell you what to do but I'm just saying—I care about you, Fred—I truly do and it's just—" she takes in another deep, shaky breath, and says in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry."

For the first time, Fred is at a complete loss for words. No witty joke nor playful remark rests on the tip of his tongue. But there's an odd prickling feeling at the back of his eyes and a strange stinging sensation in his nose, like he's just inhaled pepper powder—

"It's fine," he mutters, scratching the back of his head as he rapidly blinks the prickling feeling away. "It's.. I understand."

[Y/N] swallows. She'd thought that once she got all of that off of her chest, the guilt itching at her would subside—but it's still there, just as insistent as ever. "I'm sorry," she sighs, shaking her head. "Truly, Fred, I—"

Fred hates thinking. So he just does what his brain tells him to do—what his brain has been telling him to do ever since he'd first pulled the door open and saw her standing there in all her beautiful, hesitant glory.

He pulls her into him and holds her tight.

"It's fine," he repeats into her shoulder. He'd caught her by surprise—he can tell because of the way it takes her a moment to relax into him. "It's fine, [Y/N]."

When she does relax, however, she melts into him the same way she has done so many times before; she wraps her arms around his middle, buries her head into his chest and holds on just as tight. Solace overcomes the feeling of guilt and agitation bubbling up in her chest, and it feels as though a switch has been turned off in her brain.

It's fine. It's okay now.

Fred takes a deep breath and nods repeatedly, like he's reassuring both himself and her. He whispers quiet apologies into her hair, and even though he doesn't say it directly, [Y/N] can hear him asking her to understand him.

Fred hates thinking—maybe that's why he has never really been good with putting his feelings into words. Maybe that's why he needs [Y/N] so much; because he doesn't have to translate the mess of thoughts in his head for her to understand. She just does.

[Y/N] pulls away by a fraction of an inch, eyes still closed as she leans her forehead on Fred's and whispers, both to herself and to him: it's okay, it's fine.

And somewhere in her whispered words of affection she accidentally lets three words slip out—three words she has never said before but have been waiting to be said for a long, long time—"I love you".

Fred closes the distance between them and presses his lips to hers. Mumbles the same three words into her lips like it's a prayer.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley oneshots #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #george weasley #weasley twins #ginny weasley

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 01

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of baggage at 23.  Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy 

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence (stab wound), mentions of anxiety, swearing

Note: I was watching B99 and I was like ‘Woah, Jungkook would be a hot cop,’ and now we’re here. 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

If someone had asked you to write a novel about the adventures of your life, it would be extremely thin. Not from your lack of experiences (although it is a pressing factor) but more so from your inability to think about yourself for longer than 3 minutes without feeling sick. You were not a particularly hateful person, especially not towards yourself, but you were an active and anxious thinker and your mind was often boggled with thoughts about what you could’ve or have done wrong and it was exasperating.

For example, occasionally, your professors would allow students to spectate professional research experiments and that month, you were selected (out of pity because Alex was selected and the Professor knew she was your only friend). You knew this was supposed to be an “interesting learning experience” but it was a complete and utter bore. At first you’d convinced yourself it was only boring because you were hungry, then you began to realise it was boring because your singular braincell could not comprehend such complex material on an empty stomach.

So, you left the room to go to McDonald’s, for educational purposes of course. That was where you went wrong because instead of peacefully enjoying your McChicken you were dealing with your phone which was blowing up with messages from Alex about how you were missing ever so much from the research lab. However, it seemed to you that perfectly cut fries were more interesting than watching microscopic cells bounce around in a microscope for an hour.

It turned out that watching microscopic cells bounce around in a microscope for an hour was worth a lot of credits and you wallowed in self-pity for the mere 24-hours that followed that realisation.

You had fucked up once again, only three days after witnessing all 3 minutes of the splendid research experiment. It was a Saturday and you were standing outside your dorm building watching a student yell at a stray cat. It was around 2 in the morning and you were sneaking back from your late shift at the convenience store. Usually, you would have been terrified and confused but you were so tired that you violently pinched your arm and blinked rapidly, hoping it was just an illusion. When the peculiar scene didn’t disappear, you realised this was real but it was too late since the man was now sprinting after you across your quiet and empty campus.

Four years ago, if someone had told your 16-year-old self to participate in your P.E classes because you would later be chased by a crazy man at 2am then you surely would’ve listened. But unfortunately, no one had done such a thing and you were beginning to realise just how regrettable that was. Your running performance was mediocre at best, definitely not fast enough to out run this man across an extremely large campus and you were beginning to lose your breath.

Your only option was to quit while you were ahead and either find somewhere to hide or use your very non-existent combat skills to karate kick the man into the other dimension. Naturally, you hid behind the giant administrator building. As you were finally behind the safe confines of the old brick wall you moved to reach for your phone when you heard an alarming scream. As much as your brain wanted to relish in the relief that the scream wasn’t coming from you, you couldn’t shake the instant guilt. You called the police and tried to sound as reliable as possible but your voice was dripping with fear and you stuttered over your words like a toddler.

Once you were able to clearly see the student, lying on the lawn in pain with what appeared to be a stab wound the guilt completely consumed you but part of you couldn’t even believe this was real. Students woke up from the deafening sounds of sirens and it wasn’t long before this would become a commotion so the officers made quick work of the scene, the ambulance moving him to their van and the police officers continuing their reports. You were asked to go to the station where you would be further questioned by another officer and you didn’t quite understand the need for that escalation but you compiled nonetheless. You didn’t need the police and your conscience to think you were guilty.

You were seated in the backseat of a police car, behind two male officers. Their conversation fell numbly to your ears, your mind already submerged deeply in thought. You didn’t snap out of your trance until the officers repeatedly called for you. “Did you know the boy? The one who was, uh, attacked?” The officer was trying to find the right terms and you commend him for that much, but the last part felt more like an unsure question than a statement and that didn’t sit well with you. “No.” Your answer deadpanned the chance of a conversation, the silence after being the proof. The drive continued for about 3 minutes before you stood at the information desk where you were asked to join the secretary on a walk to the interrogation room. “The officer will be with you shortly. Would you like anything to drink?” She spoke curtly, the annoyed look on her face told you she’d already done this too many times. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

You were confused and guilty and scared. None of this made any sense, you - who never, ever, experienced anything outside your boring routine - was now being questioned for an attack? You were convinced you were borderline insane and that this was just a horrible dream. But, with every tic of the annoying clock on the plain wall behind you, you grew less convinced that this was anything but reality.

“Hello.” The officer walked in, and suddenly you felt like you were in some sick, twisted rom-com because that man might have been the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You didn’t mean to become distracted but he looked like he’d just walked out of a magic mike production and you were frankly astonished because this had to be a dream. His eyes were dark but they shined in the light beautifully, however the furrow in his eyebrows scared you enough to stop staring at his eyes. His build was clearly very developed, he looked like you could bench press you 40 times over and not even break a sweat. Or maybe he was just really fucking hot.

“My name is Officer Jeon and I’m here to ask you a couple of questions, I don’t want you to feel afraid or pressured, just answer me honestly and you’ll be fine.” Although he’d meant to sound soft and reassuring his words sounded more like an indirect threat. A threat that you heard loud and clear. You gulped quietly, the dryness in your throat mocking you as you recalled rejected the offer for a drink. You nodded when you realised he was expecting an answer but it clearly wasn’t enough. “I need you to use your voice at all times in here, this could be used in court and we need you to be very clear so nothing is misinterpreted. Do you understand?” You wanted to cry. All you’d had in plan for the night was to get to your dorm, eat some 99 cent ramen and go to sleep yet here you were at 3 in the morning in an interrogation room for an attack you weren’t even sure you ‘witnessed’. “Yup.”

“Great, then let’s begin. Can you start by stating your name and age?” “Y/N, L/N. 20.” You nearly stuttered which would have been beyond embarrassing. You seriously couldn’t even manage your own name? “Alright, Miss L/N. Why were you out so late?” You paused for a moment to rehearse your answer but you couldn’t quite get it all out. “I work at a convenience store.” You gestured to your name tag for effect and he nodded, writing something down in his notepad.

“How often do you work there?” The question was irrelevant, unrelated and the first tell-tale sign that you were not a witness; you were a suspect. However, you were too tired to notice. “Twice a week. 4pm-2am.” “You live in the dormitories, correct?” You nodded but he gave you a pointed look that reminded you to use words. “Yes.” “2 shifts a week can’t possibly sustain you. How do you pay your dorm fees?” This was when your tired brain began picking up on the fact that you weren’t just a witness. “I tutor high school kids. It pays enough.” He didn’t reply, just wrote something down in his notepad again - an action which was beginning to make you anxious.

“When you were interrogated by the field officer you told him that you were hiding behind the administration building when you’d heard the victim scream, why were you hiding there?” “I was hiding from the uh, a-attacker.” “How did you encounter him before that?” “I already answered this…” You were visibly nervous which couldn’t have looked very promising. “Then you won’t mind answering again.” His tone was menacing and if you weren’t already very intimidated by his role and demeanour then his strikingly good looks would have done the job. You’ve always been very intimidated by attractive people which proved to an insane burden.

“I was returning to my dorm block when I saw him yelling at a cat, he saw me and began to lunge my way so I started to run but I’m not very good at running so I hid behind the building instead. I was in the process of calling the police when I heard the scream and I didn’t move until the police came.” He seemed unsatisfied with your answer but that was understandable. Your monologue wasn’t confidentially given, you stuttered and stumbled over your words consistently out of anxiety, but he didn’t know that and probably thought you were the very thing you had been running from.

“How did you know that the man chasing you was a student? You said he was in the initial questioning.” “I wasn’t sure. It was 2am and he was standing on a student campus, outside a student dormitory. So, I assumed he was a student.” Your tone was a little vindictive, possibly from the frustration of being labeled as a suspect for a crime you were positive you didn’t commit. “Did you know the student who was attacked?” “No. When can I leave?” The question came out rushed and on impulse but you didn’t care. You were far too tired to. “When I ask all my questions.” You nodded absentmindedly, focusing on the plain table instead.

“You think I did it, don’t you?” Tears were welling up in your eyes but you were too dehydrated to cry.  “Right now you’re only a minor suspect, these are routine questions we have to ask and I really don’t see the issue with them if you’re truly innocent.” That surely shut you up, and made you feel a little stupid. Normally a question like that would never come from you but your exhaustion was taking a toll on your patience, and it was a heavy toll at that. “I’m sorry.” His angry features softened at your shaky voice. “How about we continue this tomorrow. Is 2pm okay for you?” You spaced out again, which was probably why he wanted to continue the interrogation the next day. “Is that okay?” He repeated, this time more pressing, you nodded but were quick to once again correct yourself and mutter a quick “yes” before you grabbed your backpack and suppressed the urge to Naruto run out of the room.

You walked out of the double doors only to be met with the dark night sky and a creeping fear that there was someone following you. You walked home from your shift every Friday and Saturday night and until that day nothing extremely bad had happened. Yet here you were cowardly glancing over your shoulder with every chance you got. You hated walking at night because your paranoia constantly slowed you down and what should’ve been a 10- minute walk turned into a 23-minute walk. It didn’t help that your recent encounter kept replaying in your head, the image of the poor victim on the floor vividly appearing every time you blinked.

As you rolled yourself up in a blanket burrito to escape the dark amiss of the night (more or less your own thoughts), you began to lull yourself into a soft sleep before your roommate, Alex, rudely barged into your room with little concern for your sleep.. “What happened? Why did you leave with the officers? Everyone’s talking about it you know, you’re on everyone’s snapchat story and your clothes really aren’t that flattering.” “A student got attacked and I was the only kind-of witness. The officers wanted to do some further questioning and how many times must I tell you its the uniform.” She sighed in relief before crushing you with a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You suffocated under her grasp but you knew better than to try to fight Alex. She left the room to allow you to sleep but not before rambling about how she assumed you had turned into a rogue murderer.

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #this is my first time writing pls be nice

[lobster-tales]

College AU - Rangshi

This is for the first day of the Winter ATLA Femslash Week! This work is available here on AO3. 

Prompt: Kiss/First Kiss or College AU 

Yun invited Kyoshi to join the university's fencing club. He forgot to mention that the sabre coach's daughter was hot.

When Kyoshi entered the practice gym for the first time, she didn’t expect the noise. Voices of students and referees mingled with sneakers scraping on the floor. The most unique sound, however, was the clash of the fencing weapons. She had thought the swords would clang together harshly, like in the movies. Instead, they met with hollow clunks.

A small group of students sat on the bleachers, taking a water break. Many of them were looking her way, curious but not wanting to approach. Kyoshi inhaled deeply, forcing herself to walk towards them. As she got closer, more of the students looked up. She heard the whispers; “Holy shit she’s tall,” “Do you think she’s a professional?” “I hope she’s not a foilist.”

Kyoshi was used to being gawked at. She had a naturally intimidating presence, and most people used it as an excuse to avoid her. For Kyoshi, loneliness was like a knife in her side: less trouble to leave it be rather than let everything spill out. 

“Foilists! Back on strip!” The students evacuated the bleachers, passing by a figure that barely surpassed her in height. The man’s face held lines that betrayed his age and good humor, chin blanketed by a long beard. He shot Kyoshi a grin, and relief flooded her system. “Hello there; you must be Kyoshi.”

“Yes,” she hesitated, unsure how to address him. “...Sir.”

The man let out a boisterous laugh. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ unless you’re in trouble. The rest of the time, you can call me Kelsang. I’m the foil coach.” He stuck out a large hand, and Kyoshi took it. “Yun was adamant that you’d be here, though I should tell you that practice started an hour and a half ago.”

Kyoshi felt warmth in her cheeks, and averted her eyes. “They… needed me to stay an extra hour in the kitchen.”

“Oh, so you’re a chef then?”

“... Dishwasher.”

He nodded respectfully. “Honest work.”

Kyoshi wanted to drop the subject. “Where is Yun?”

“He’s on strip now,” Kelsang said, indicating a duel that was taking place. “You want to watch?”

She followed Kelsang, surveying the gym as they stepped towards the center. She picked out three distinct practice groups. At the center, a team wore all white and held large weapons. The group behind her had smaller weapons, and silver vests over their white gear. The third team was still warming up at the back of the gym.

Kelsang noticed her evaluation. “How much did Yun tell you about fencing?”

“A little. I know he fences epee.” They joined a handful of students watching a duel. Two masked fencers stood directly across from each other. For each fencer, an electric cord plugged in beneath the large bell of the weapon, disappearing into the sleeve of their white jacket. The cord reappeared behind their bodies, pulled taut from a metallic box at the edge of the strip. 

One of the fencers was stiff, awkwardly swiping the weapon up and down. His opponent was completely at ease, stance low to the ground as he casually knocked the other fencer’s attacks aside. Yep. There’s Yun.

Kelsang leaned over, explaining the basics. “There’s three weapons: foil, epee, and sabre. To put it simply, epee and foil are the swords that you stab with, while sabre hits from the side of the blade. Of the three, epee is the largest and heaviest.”

Yun’s opponent lunged, nearly losing their balance as Yun gracefully moved out of the way. The tip of his blade landed on the other fencer’s arm. 

“Halt!” The voice belonged to a referee. He seemed to be similar in age to Kelsang, though his features were far more serious than the foil coach. 

“That’s Jianzhu,” Kelsang said. “He’s our epee coach.”

Jianzhu called, “Counterattack arrives. 4-0.” The fencers readied themselves again. “En garde, prêt, allez!”

Kyoshi frowned. “Wait, what just happened?”

“Yun got the point, so they return to en garde and another round begins.” Kelsang smirked. “Usually, we just say ‘en garde, ready, fence’, but Jianzhu likes being pretentious.”

The statement earned Kelsang a glare from the referee, who quickly turned his attention back to the match. 

Kelsang continued. “In epee, you score points from the tip of the weapon. You can hit your opponent anywhere on their body, as long as you hit them first.”

The other fencer went for Yun’s toes. Yun gracefully lifted his foot, stretching his leg and bringing his heel down in a lunge. His blade landed on the opponent’s arm. 

“Halt!” Jianzhu called. “Attack no, counterattack arrives. 5-0, bout.”

The opponents removed their masks, reaching out with their left hands to shake. Yun looked towards Kyoshi, his eyes wide as he shot her a breathy smile. “You made it!” He unplugged his blade, passing the cord to another fencer. His messy bun flopped as he trotted towards her, eyes twinkling as he pulled her into an embrace. Despite the sweat, he smelled like warm spice. 

“I’m here,” Kyoshi said stiffly, enveloping him in her tall form. She felt the eyes of the other students. No doubt several if not all of them had crushes on Yun, and here she was in his arms. Not that she blamed them; Yun was easy to fall in love with. 

“Jianzhu,” Yun said, pulling back. He threw his hands wide, displaying Kyoshi in front of the coach. “This is Kyoshi! She’s the one I told you about.”

Jianzhu considered her, nodding courteously. “Kyoshi, welcome. We’ve been needing another epeeist, especially someone with a lot of…” He tried to put the words delicately. “... Reach.”

“Hey, I saw her first!” Kelsang chuckled. “I already claimed her for foil.”

“She can decide on her own!” Yun said indignantly, but leaned toward her to loudly whisper, “But epee is the best.”

Kyoshi smiled shyly. “If it’s alright, I would like to look at the other weapons.”

“Sure!” Yun pulled her away, calling back to Jianzhu, “I’ll be back!”

Foil was next. Yun showed her the lithe blade, explaining the basic rules. They watched several bouts before she asked, “What about the third one? I didn’t see another set of strips for them.”

Yun rolled his eyes, indicating the far end of the gym. “They’re just setting up now. Hei-ran keeps them doing warmups for most of the drill time.”

“Can we watch?”

“Of course!” Yun practically dragged her to the sabre area. “You’ve gotta watch one of Rangi’s bouts.”

“Rangi?”

“Yeah, she’s insane on strip.” He shrugged. “I mean, she’s the coach’s daughter, so it’s no surprise.”

An older woman with black hair eyed them as they approached. Yun introduced her as the coach, Hei-ran, before asking when Rangi would be fencing.

Hei-ran cocked an eyebrow. “She wasn’t planning on fencing today. She’s doing private lessons.”

Yun smirked. “Not if I can help it.” He briefly took Kyoshi’s hand. “Wait here.” Before she could respond, he was already jogging across the floor to two fencers, both in full gear. 

Kyoshi stood beside Hei-ran, aware of the coach’s perfect posture. As a habit, Kyoshi slouched in an unsuccessful attempt to make herself smaller. Now, she mimicked the coach and straightened her back.

The two of them watched the sabrists set up the strip and change into their gear. Hei-ran glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “So, Kyoshi, have you ever fenced before?”

“No.” She hesitated, not wanting to relinquish more information than necessary, but she sensed Hei-ran would not be satisfied with the simple answer. “... Yun actually asked me to come.”

“And how do you two know each other?”

“We went to high school together. After graduation, he came to the university while I did my associate’s degree at community college.”

Hei-ran considered her. “A very responsible decision. Your parents must be proud.”

“Yeah…” Kyoshi pressed her lips together. “I uh… I actually don’t… have those…”

“Oh.” Hei-ran looked like she was uncertain whether to emote sympathy or not, and settled for, “All the more impressive.”

“Thanks.” Kyoshi shifted her weight. She hated feeling like a statistic. “And what about you?”

“My father was a fencer. I learned at a young age, much like my daughter. An injury prevented me from getting my A rating.” She noted Kyoshi’s confusion. “The US Fencing Association rates fencers from the lowest level, U which stands for unrated, to the highest level A.” Hei-ran nodded towards the strip, where a masked opponent stood across from Yun. “For context, Rangi is a C-rated fencer.”

“Ah.” Kyoshi watched as Yun donned a silver jacket over his white gear. Rangi was already sitting in a low stance, the cords plugged in to her gear. Yun finished hooking up his own weapon. He flashed Kyoshi a grin and placed the mask over his head. 

Hei-ran cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” She moved to the strip, hands out to either side like a conductor. “Fencers, en garde. Ready. Fence.”

Kyoshi could have blinked and missed the attack. Her jaw dropped as Rangi immediately stood from her long lunge, turning her back to Yun as she returned to her starting position. Yun laughed, taking the point against him in good stride. 

“Attack arrives, 1-0. En garde. Ready. Fence.” 

This time, Kyoshi’s eyes kept up. Yun and Rangi lunged concurrently, clashing together. 

“Halt! Simultaneous. No point. En garde, ready, fence.”

As the bout went on, Kyoshi made mental notes of the style of fencing. Unlike in epee and foil, there was very little back and forth, no hesitation. The three minute timer on the clock usually only ticked down a few seconds before the round was over. 

“Halt! 1-4.”

Yun whooped and called, “See that, Kyoshi? I got her!”

Truthfully, she hadn’t seen the point, but gave him a thumbs up anyway.

“En garde, ready, fence.”

Both fencers took one step forward, but to Kyoshi’s surprise, Rangi moved back. Yun advanced cautiously, before he took a quick step and lunged, swiping at her arm. Rangi held out her weapon to block the attack with a parry, and Yun immediately retreated. Rangi advanced towards him slowly, flicking her blade up and down. Yun jolted a few times, anticipating an attack. Rangi kept pushing him towards the end of the strip, toying with him. 

When Yun was at the edge of the strip, he lunged. Rangi was faster. She rushed him, her blade clicking against the top of his mask as she drove past him. 

“Halt! Attack no, attack arrives. 5-1, bout.”

Kyoshi stared at the lights on the scoreboard. Green and red were both lit up, and she furrowed her eyebrows in thought. If both of them attacked at the same time, then why did Rangi get the point?

She looked up just as Rangi removed her mask, her cluttered mind blanking instantly.

Rangi’s black hair was cropped just above her shoulder, half of it pulled into a messy topknot. Her angular features were clean, and Kyoshi realized she hadn’t even broken a sweat during the entire match. As Rangi exhaled, her lips parted slightly. Kyoshi’s own breath caught in her throat at the sight. Rangi’s dark bronze eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Kyoshi thought she might fall to her knees. 

Rangi reached out to shake Yun’s hand. He took her fingers in his, tilted her hand, and kissed her knuckles. Kyoshi stiffened as he did so. Part of her had always been envious of Yun’s good looks, his ease with people, but those feelings were nothing compared to the jealousy that ripped through her now. 

As the fencers unhooked from the strip, Hei-ran noticed Kyoshi’s pallor. “Are you alright, Kyoshi? You look ill.”

“I- I’m fine.” Kyoshi regained her composure. “I was just… impressed by the... fencing.”

“I see.” Hei-ran’s voice held a fleeting compassion. “It can be daunting at first, but we’ll provide any training you need.”

Yun and Rangi both approached them. This would be the fourth time Yun had introduced her tonight. Kyoshi usually limited him to three at any given social event, but for some reason, she didn’t mind. “This is her, Rangi.”

The sabre fencer stuck out her hand. “Yun’s told me a lot about you.”

Kyoshi slowly took her hand. She wished she could mimic the way Yun had tilted her knuckles. She wanted to lay her own mark there.

Rangi gave her a strange look and she realized she’d been holding her hand too long. Kyoshi let go quickly. “Hi. Same.” She was telling the truth; Yun had told Kyoshi about a sabre fencer. He’d left out the part where she was drop dead gorgeous. 

Yun threw his arms around both of their shoulders, reaching high to grab Kyoshi’s. “Practice is almost over, and Tuesdays are milkshake nights. The diner’s just across campus.”

The hour was getting late, and Kyoshi was exhausted from work. She felt, though, that there was no excuse strong enough to keep her from getting to know Rangi.

Huffing playfully, Rangi grumbled, “Fine, but I need to be in bed by midnight.”

***

At 2:00 AM, the three stumbled out of the diner doors. Yun dangled between Kyoshi and Rangi, clutching at his stomach. “Okay, maybe three milkshakes was too much.”

“You think?” Rangi growled. “Come on, where’s your dorm?”

They supported him for three blocks, finally resting outside the massive hall. Yun managed a weak salute before staggering inside the building. Once he was gone, the two dissolved into giggles. 

Rangi shook her head fondly. “He is something else, huh?”

The same jealous feeling pricked Kyoshi, and her laughter was cut short. “Yeah… sure is.”

Stretching, Rangi asked, “You live on campus?”

“Yep. C Hall.”

“Perfect. I live in B. We’ll walk together.”

The streets of campus were well lit. Buildings towered around them, their purposes mysterious in the dark. Save for the occasional studious night owl, Kyoshi and Rangi were alone. 

Rangi broke the silence first. “I know you didn’t get any practice time, but how did you feel about fencing?”

“It was cool.”

“... Would you be interested in coming back?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Rangi eyed her. Like her mother, she was never satisfied with the easy answer. “So how do you know Yun?” 

Hei-ran had asked her the exact same question only hours before. Part of Kyoshi wanted to repeat her answer, but she fell prey to a stronger urge. She had already given away too much of herself tonight. “From high school.”

Though Kyoshi was nearly a head taller than her, Rangi had set a rapid walking pace. Kyoshi had finally adjusted to her speed, but when she glanced to her left, she saw Rangi was no longer beside her. 

Rangi’s voice came from behind. “Do you have a problem with me?”

Kyoshi whipped around. Rangi glared at her intently, arms straight at her side. Kyoshi’s mind raced as she wondered what she had done to deserve such an aggressive response. “What?”

“You haven’t said more than three-word sentences to me all night.”

“Y-yes I have,” Kyoshi said feebly. She knew Rangi was right.

“You had no problem talking to Kelsang or my mom. So what is it about me? Did I do something?”

Dread clutched Kyoshi. The only way Rangi would have known about her conversations was if she had been watching her. Everyone was watching you, she told herself harshly. You’re impossible to miss. “No, you didn’t do anything at all, I just…”

“Just what?”

“I just…” Her mouth tried to sculpt her feelings into words. “I… think you’re cool.”

Rangi’s eyes widened slightly. She must have been prepared for something worse. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” The statement had been painfully simple, but Kyoshi felt more vulnerable now than she had all night. 

“Well… I think you’re cool too.” Rangi spoke carefully, almost like she was afraid of spooking her. “Actually, I was really looking forward to meeting you. Yun talks about you all the time.”

“Right…” Kyoshi trusted Yun’s word, but this entire exchange would have been easier if she was a complete stranger. 

“All good things,” Rangi said quickly. “Just that you’re… hardworking. And strong.”

Kyoshi wasn’t sure how to respond other than, “Cool.”

After a pause, Rangi cleared her throat. “We should get back to the dorms. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the walk passed in silence. Kyoshi almost preferred the lack of conversation. She wanted nothing more than to be near Rangi, close enough to feel the energy that radiated off of her. 

Rangi halted once more, facing a stone building. “Here’s B Hall.” She glanced back at Kyoshi and offered a curt, “Goodnight.”

“Wait.” Rangi’s eyes pierced her, and Kyoshi realized she had said the word out loud. “Um… That last point… during your duel with Yun?”

“Bout. We don’t say duel.”

“Right, bout.” Kyoshi pressed her lips together, thinking. “Why did you get the point? You both hit at the same time, so wouldn’t it have been...” She struggled to recall the word Hei-ran had used. “Simultaneous?”

Rangi considered her wordlessly, and for a moment, Kyoshi was afraid she wouldn’t answer. At last, Rangi said, “In sabre, we have something called priority, or right of way. Essentially, it means offense and defense. It’s like… soccer. You know how in soccer, one team has the ball and the other has to defend?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like that. Right of way is like the invisible ball. So even if both fencers attack at the same time, whoever was on offense gets the point.”

They stood a few feet apart, directly in front of each other. Kyoshi took the last few seconds to memorize the lines of Rangi’s face. She wondered briefly if either of them had the right of way at this moment. The obvious answer was Rangi. Even though she’d only known her a few hours, Kyoshi recognized that Rangi always acted first. 

“Well, goodnight, Kyoshi.” Rangi was about to retreat. 

A heady mixture of exhaustion and night air spurred Kyoshi. She decided to take the moment, seize the offense back. She reached for Rangi’s hand. Before she could stop herself, Kyoshi lifted Rangi’s knuckles to her lips. “Goodnight… Rangi.”

Kyoshi saw her bronze eyes widen, but turned away before the rest of her face could react. She made for her own dormitory, walking with purpose but not with urgency. There was no sound but the wind in the black trees, the unfaltering steps of her own feet. 

#winter atla femslash week #rangshi #college au #fencing au #kyoshi novels #my fic #atla fic #atla

[mrfeenysmustache]

Some Family is Found

Summary: A collection of vignettes about the Higurashi family, from Single Dad Souta, schoolyard fights, blended family of three then four, and learning to let go and let fate take control.

"Papa Souta!"

Yanked from sleep with a harsh gasp, Souta was already half rolled out of bed and running before his eyes had fully opened. He knew that tone, scared and frail and small, and his body had become well trained over the last year to respond to it immediately.

He dashed quickly from his room to hers, throwing open the door and flinging himself inside right to her little bed where she sat wide eyed and terrified much like she had been when he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Towa! I'm here. You're safe. It was just another nightmare."

No sooner had he sat next to her had she thrown herself into his arms, shaking and snuggling while he crooned wordlessly and petted her soft, white hair.

The first time she'd called him Papa had been a night just like this one. A handful of months passed with her in his care and every night she woke in a fright, babbling about sisters and fires and someone named Setsuna. She'd clung to him just this way, rubbed her sniffling little nose into his shoulder and called him Papa with a shaky sigh that bound his heart right up.

Her nightmares came further apart from that night on, but every once in a while he was still needed to chase away the darkness.

"It's okay, it will all be alright." He shushed gently, swaying her back and forth while he scratched at her scalp and rubbed her back. Eventually she quieted down and then went limp with sleep again. He tucked her back into her bed, smoothed the hair back from her forehead and smiled at the peace that returned to her little cherub face.

He checked her alarm clock and sighed; it was early enough that she wouldn't normally be up, but his own alarm clock was about to go off, signaling his painfully early study hour. He was almost done with his degree and then waking before the sun could, hopefully, become a thing of the past. With one last look at the sweetly sleeping face of his little daughter, Souta quietly left her room to return to his own.

———

The bell chimed the end of the day and a flurry of tiny bodies rushed passed him, giggling and squealing and eager to leave the school yard behind until tomorrow. Souta gulped and straightened his shoulders before striding across the lawn and entering the doors once the last of the children had filtered out.

He'd spent enough of his own childhood here to know where he was going, and his legs carried him unconsciously to the principals office where he'd been called in for an important meeting.

He steeled himself at the door and took another deep breath before opening it dipping his head in greeting to the principal and eyeing the wilted form of the white haired toddler he'd been asked to come in to discuss.

His heart panged at the sight of her, his normally vibrant girl so small and sad and dejected, one of her pigtails drooping and a bright red scuff mark marring her round cheek.

'Oh no...'

"Higurashi-San, Thank you for coming."

"Of course." He replied, sitting in the empty seat across from the large desk.

A pair of sad red eyes shifted his way and he smiled softly, reassuringly.

The principal finally looked up from her paper work and blinked, looking perplexed before adjusting her glasses.

"I'm so sorry, there must be some confusion, I believe I requested that Towa-Chan's mother or father come in to speak today."

Souta winced internally, but kept his expression genial and placid.

"Yes, you did. There's no confusion. I am Higurashi Souta, Towa-Chan's father."

The principal blinked again and cleared her throat, looking between he and little Towa with a glint in her eye he didn't appreciate.

"My, you certainly look very young to be a father." She said crisply, and Souta bristled and struggled to keep his tone polite.

"I'm sure it doesn't surprise you to know I hear that quite a lot."

"Yes well. Let's get to the point, shall we? Towa-Chan has been exhibiting some shocking behavior of late. We are very concerned."

"As are we, she's made us aware that she's been on the receiving end of some unfair teasing."

The principal sniffed and shuffled her papers before folding her hands primly.

"Be that as it may, we can not tolerate violence against our other children, and Towa has instigated several physical altercations this week alone. Unless something drastic is done, she is risking expulsion."

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his seat, meeting the principal's gaze unflinchingly before looking once again on Towa. She still didn't look up, staring at her feet and making herself as small as possible. It broke his heart, and he heaved a sigh before looking back to the principal with a smile.

"I understand. I'll talk with her tonight. Thank you for your time."

He stood and scooped Towa up from her seat. She curled into him and he strode quickly out of the building. He stopped on the stairs to switch her over to his back, and after hooking his arms behind her knees she rested her head against his shoulder and sighed a forlorn sigh.

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I caused so much trouble."

Her little voice, small and broken, tore into him, and he wondered if he might be doing something wrong.

He knew he was young to be a father, especially to a school aged child like Towa. She was barely six, but he wasn't quite out of university just yet, and was far from the ideal situation for having small, helpless people depending on you. He still had so much to learn himself.

"Don't worry about it Towa-Chan. No one wants to be picked on. You just need to remember your strength. You aren't like the other kids, you're much stronger."

"Okay." It was barely above a whisper, and Souta hated for her to sound like that.

The rest of the journey home was made in heavy silence, but Mama Higurashi swept in to lend her gentle touch and Souta watched Towa brighten a little under her attention.

Cookies and tea and an affectionate pat on the head as her grandmother helped her color a picture soon had Towa back on track and Souta sighed in relief.

"Why don't you go and study for your upcoming final and leave us girls to our own business, hm?"

"Thanks mama."

——

Mama Higurashi tearfully hung the picture she'd taken just a few nights before on the wall, brimming with love and pride.

Souta smiled back from the center of the frame draped in his graduation gown with Towa beaming atop his shoulders, his graduation cap covering her white hair.

It's not what she ever expected the photo of his university graduation would look like, but she glanced at the high school graduation photo of her firstborn daughter and grinned.

Both of her children seemed fated to walk interesting paths that twisted off from the rigid one set in place by society at large.

She couldn't say she was anything but proud.

A squeal of delight drew her attention to the window nearby and she watched indulgently as Souta scooped Towa up before falling to the ground with her, tickling her sides while she laughed and wiggled away.

A thread of worry wrapped around her heart then and she said a silent prayer that this new school year coming up for her would be easier than the last.

A new school, a fresh start, hopefully her granddaughter would fare better with the students at this school than she had before. She was such a dear girl with an unshakable sense of justice that she already couldn't help but fight tooth and nail for.

The sun glowed off her little white pony tails and her smile stretched freely across her face, and Mama Higurashi found herself wondering not for the first time if they hadn't ended up adopting Kagome and Inuyasha's child.

She looked very little like them aside from her hair color, but she certainly had Kagome's sense of right and wrong and Inuyasha's strength to back it up.

The likelihood of that was low, especially as she'd only ever spoken of someone named Setsuna.

"Well, time to call them in for dinner."

———

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I cause you so much trouble..."

"It's alright Towa. I was thinking this other school would be better for you anyway. They have a wrestling team!"

Her eyes still held a glimmer of uncertainty and guilt, and though he was was stressed and concerned, he didn't want her shouldering such feelings all the time.

He knew she remembered her life before he'd found her on his front lawn, that she'd come from somewhere else before they'd taken her in, before he'd decided raise her as his own child, and he had a suspicion that she feared he might one day grow tired of her escapades and be done with her.

But he just couldn't. She may not have come from him, but she was his.

He was going to stick with her no matter what.

We have to go pick up your uniform next week, they have several colors to choose from, is there one you like best?"

He handed her the brochures and watched her nose scrunch up at the list of pictures of skirts with different colors and numbers of pleats, and bit his lip to keep from laughing outright.

"Um, no, I don't have any preferences."

"You're sure?"

"Anything is fine, really!"

"Alright. Well, have you been practicing with the sword you found with grandpa the other day?"

Suddenly her face lit up like the sun, and Souta sat back and listened while she detailed all the things she'd been practicing that she'd seen on various internet videos.

Her last teacher had admonished him for allowing her to peruse such interests.

'It's wildly unlady like. You should not be encouraging swordplay from a girl who already can't control her violent urges with her peers!'

She'd even thrown in a barb about her lack of a mother.

But while Souta agreed that Towa needed to be less violent while at school, he couldn't imagine discouraging her from the things she loved, even if they weren't the most feminine.

She bounced around the room, showing him some of the swings and stabs she'd nearly mastered and he couldn't help but think her Aunt would be so proud to watch her follow in her footsteps.

———-

"Grammy, when will Papa Souta be home again?"

"Oh much later I think Dear. I'll be tucking you in tonight, is that alright?"

Towa nodded solemnly but then burst into bright giggles when she saw her grandmother pull the secret stash of cookies out from the back of the cleaning cabinet.

"It's a big night Towa, what say we celebrate early?"

Mama Higurashi sat on the couch and let Towa settle in beside her before opening the box and letting her select two.

"One for each hand!" She chirped, smiling up at her, red eyes glimmering. It was their long standing tradition and she cherished how much her rapidly growing granddaughter still enjoyed it. She was now teetering on the edge of childhood, a vibrant girl rapidly approaching her pre-teen years.

"One for each hand my darling."

"So... you think she'll say yes?"

Mama eyed her granddaughter for a moment, but her face was unreadable.

"I do. She's a lovely woman."

"Yeah. She is."

"Do you not wish for her to join the family?"

Towa crunched into her cookie and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's not that. What if she doesn't like living with me all the time?"

"Oh Towa honey, Moe-Chan loves you! She's probably the most understanding person we've ever known. She's certainly taken everything in stride."

"She makes Papa Souta happy."

"She does. You know most of all he wants you to be happy though, right dear?"

"And I want him to be happy too. So yes, I hope she says yes tonight." Towa replied, leaning into her grandmother's side.

"Can we watch my favorite movie tonight?"

"That awful horror film? No chance young lady!"

Towa erupted into giggles while her grandmother put on calm, soothing movie they both enjoyed, and Towa drifted off into sleep feeling safe and content.

———-

Moe Higurashi hovered awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching Towa as she sat still as a statue at the dining table, head down and pillowed on her arms. She heaved a tired sigh, and Moe's heart constricted.

She'd known before she married Souta that his daughter had many troubles at school. She was strong and sure and didn't stand aside when others were being mistreated. Thus, she was often a target for those who wanted to prove themselves stronger than her.

Towa had started another new school just this week, and already the fighting had started again. She could practically feel the stress and guilt oozing off her young step-daughter's young shoulders, and she wanted so badly to do something about it without overstepping any boundaries.

An idea struck her and she stepped quietly away to retrieve her violin from her room. Towa had not moved an inch when she returned, and in fact didn't seem to be aware of anything outside of her own troubled thoughts.

Moe hesitated for one more moment before delicately clearing her through and startling Towa out of her funk.

"May I sit here please?"

Towa nodded and watched silently as Moe took the seat across from hers and began tuning the strings of her violin. And then, without a word, she brought the instrument up, held it in place, and pulled the bow across the strings. She played something low and soothing, something that filled the room as well as all the stormy spots in Towa's mind until she felt the tension melt from her.

She put her head back down, but this time Moe noted with pride that her shoulders were noticeably less rigid. She continued to play even after Towa lifted her head and listened with a smile.

———-

There had been many times in the month since bringing his new baby home that Souta thought his heart would burst open with love and pride and happiness, and this time was no different.

Little Mei, still so small and sleepy and new, was reclined comfortably on a soft blanket his mother had knitted. She was fast asleep, swaddled tightly into a little bundle, and Towa had stretched out on the floor next to her, gazing lovingly down at her and running her fingers over the soft, wispy hairs on her head. She was whispering something, something he couldn't quite make out, but the look of devotion on her face toward her new little sister took his breath away. They were as mismatched a set as he'd ever seen. Mei's soft brown hair and eyes contrasted sharply to the burning red of Towa's eyes, or the shock of silver that grew from her head, but they both lived deep inside his heart.

Moe entered from the opposite side of the room from the kitchen with a flour stained apron around her waist.

"There are my girls! Towa, I've brought you a cookie fresh from the oven."

"Thank you Mama Moe." She whispered in return, careful not to wake her sister, and Souta watched Moe valiantly attempt to keep her own emotions in check. He knew how much it meant to her that Towa had grown so close to her.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Moe went back into the kitchen, and Souta took another indulgent moment to watch his daughters begin forging their bond.

————

Souta held his smile until the moment the shining portal winked out of existence, and then his expression fell and he grabbed desperately for his mother's hand.He squeezed it and she responded immediately.

"Souta, what's wrong my son?"

"How-" he gulped around the fear rapidly growing and choking him, watched Moe scoop up a crying Mei, silent tears tracking down her own face, and knew the dam on his emotions would break soon. "How did you do it mama? How did you... how did you let Kagome go over and over and over? How were you always okay with this?!"

Mama sighed and rubbed his back, staring off into nothing for a moment as old fears and anxieties swam back up from the recesses of her memories.

"Come inside my dears, let me make you some tea and try to ease your worries. At least, let me help you try to manage them better than I was able."

Souta hung back until the others had filed inside and looked back at the place his daughter had just disappeared without a trace. He'd watched his sister vault over the well time and again and remembered the distant fears he'd had for her as a child.

But she'd had Inuyasha, his larger than life living legend brother-in-law who he was convinced could beat any opponent conceivable.

This time, he wasn't a child anymore, and this wasn't his sister.

This was his child, one he'd practically grown up with he'd been so young when he'd adopted her.

And though he knew what she was, the very same sort of being his childhood hero was, still he worried.

For her safety, for her wellbeing, for her life.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he prayed, that she would remain safe and unharmed, that she would find what she was looking for, that she would solve her quest, that she would return to them.

And then he wiped the tears from his face, and turned from the Sacred Tree that had taken her away, and he walked inside, trailing pieces of his heart behind him.

#hanyo no yashahime #inuyasha sequel #yashahime #towa #souta higurashi #inuyasha fic #inuyasha fanfiction #found family #found family fic #hanyo no yashahime fic #yashahime fanfiction

[devourer--of--books]

tagatha dating simulator au

- It’s sunday night and local college student, Agatha, hasn’t sleep in two days, practically glued to her chair at the library, trying to absorb the maximum of information she possibly could before finals on monday morning.

- Sitting across from her is her roommate and best friend, Sophie, who doesn’t seem nearly as concerned, playing a game on her phone. Mostly because she already failed half of her courses and is considering dropping out of college to pursue a modeling career, why try at this point-

- Agatha appreciates that Sophie is keeping her company, she really does, but even if her friend was using headphones, Agatha can still hear the background music and the voice actors very clearly. That on its own was distracting enough, but it was always the same lines, with the background music looping as Sophie restarted the game prologue over and over again.

- Around the fifth time she hears the app-staring-exclamation ‘milady!’ her eye starts twitching.

- By the twelfth she slams her book shut, earning herself a glare from all the remaining students in the library.

- “How terrible do you have to be at a game to not be able to get through the prologue?” she whisper-shouts, taking the sit beside Sophie, looking at the screen.

- “That’s not the problem,” her friend defends, proceeding to explain the game.

- Trial by Tale is a recently released dating simulator that has managed to gather a cult-like following. The game was praised for its diverse range of LIs, well-written routes, stellar voice acting, high-quality art style and a beautiful soundtrack. It was apparently highly addicting as well, as Agatha had never seen Sophie be that invested in... any game... like, ever.

- Basically, the main character was transported inside a fairytale-fantasy-like world, where they were introduced as a ‘reader’ to compete in the ‘trial by tale’, a inter-worldly tournament, set up by a mysterious entity (a magical pen known as ‘the storian’), in which the winner would be granted an unconditional wish.

- “Original,” Agatha snorts.

- “Can you just shut up and listen?”

- During the prologue, the main character meets most of the main LIs and according to the player’s decisions, the game would put them into a specific route, based on affection levels with each datatable character.

- There were about thirty bad endings for the casual route (where the player either made stupid choices or didn’t gather enough affection with any LI), ranging from mildly sad to terribly gory. Then, each route had five early bad endings, that could happen during the trial, resulting in the main character’s death. 

- If the player managed to win the tournament with the LI, bargaining with the storian for the survival of two competitors, then two new endings would be unlocked: a normal ending, in which the reader would wish to go home and a happy ending, in which the reader wished to remain forever in the fairytale world living happily ever after with their partner.

- “And that’s where it gets weird,” Sophie pauses, opening up the Trial By Tale wiki page. “Every single LI has a walkthrough and seven possible endings.”

- She shows Agatha a bunch of characters, offering some commentary on their personalities and backstories. Then, she pauses at the last. "All but one." The character is the prettiest, if not a bit too perfect. ‘Tedros of Camelot’, it says on the top of his page, his basic info and biography listed to the side, but it’s full of gaps, blanks and ‘???’s. It was mentioned that he was a dateable character, yet no  walkthrough was provided.

- “Why doesn’t it say anything? Has he not been released?”

- “No one has managed to get his route so far, but according to the game developers, it’s possible. We don’t even know what his voice sounds like.”

- “And you think you will because…?”

- “I’m me. I’m getting Tedros’ route even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”

- Agatha decides to leave her be, going back to the books, while asking for her to at least lower the volume.

- An hour or so goes by until Sophie grows hungry and decides to leave the library, going back to the dorm. After that, Agatha finally manages to concentrate, and time goes by in a flash.

- In fact, it passes so quickly that she’s not even sure what time it was. When did everyone leave?

- Her phone is dead and the clock on the wall is frozen at midnight. Probably broken, Agatha decides. It couldn’t be midnight, the lights were still on, the library closed at 10:30pm sharp and no one came to kick her out. She was tired, but she wasn’t deaf. She calls for the librarian.

- All the lights turn off at once. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t freak her out a bit.

- Then, she notices a blue glow from under the table. Please don’t let it be a demon.

- It’s a smartphone, with a bedazzled case, a loading blue screen emitting the light. Trial By Tale’s soundtrack starts to play and soon enough the words appear. Touch anywhere to start. That was Sophie’s phone. Which would be fine and normal and okay if Agatha wasn’t pretty sure Sophie left with it. 

- The music starts to loop, and Agatha uses the light to guide her to the entrance, only to find it locked. Every other exit was blocked as well. Ha. Funny.

- Eventually, she surrenders, clicking on the screen, trying to close the app. The last thing she hears is ‘milady!’ and everything turns black as she feels the floor disappear from under her feet, her consciousness fading as she fell into an abyss of darkness.

- She wakes up lying on grass, near a gate, the words Trial By Tale engraved on top of it.

- She pinches herself, feeling it sting as she stared at the gate, pinching harder and harder to the point she nearly screamed in pain. The gate was still there. Agatha focus on her senses. She’s never able to smell things on her dreams.

- This place smells like dirt, pines, dried blood and iron. 

- It’s a dream, she tries to convince herself. Very vivid dream, but it’s a dream.

- A bunch of floating text appears in front of her: Welcome, competitors!

- The storian tells Agatha everything Sophie already told her: it’s a tournament, in which 40 teens from different fairytale kingdoms, including the reader world, must compete amongst themselves for survival during 24 hours. You could pair up with someone, forming an alliance, but there could only be one winner. Then, the world froze, turning black and white, three options appearing in thin air:

A: I’m a boy 

B: I’m a girl 

C: I’m neither/both/something else.

- Agatha experiments. The text didn’t respond to her voice or gestures; she had to touch it. B. They disappeared up in smoke, being replaced by a new choice:

A: climb over the gate early 

B: go in as soon as the gong goes off

C: run into the woods

- All of those sound horrible, she’ll hang around here, thank you very much.

- Agatha decides to pick B, because it sounded the least likely to get her killed. Tapping the option, color returns and more texts appears, telling her the rest of the rules. Apparently, all forms of magic and weapons were allowed, as it was a tournament to the death.

- Well, she had neither a weapon nor any magic, geez, things were certainly looking up.

- A gong can be heard and Agatha waits for her legs to magically move according to her choice. 

- They don’t.

- She debates on staying put for a few minutes, maybe way too many, but then she remembers: casual route endings vary from mildly sad to terribly gory. Agatha doesn’t wanna find out which one she’d get by sticking around.

- Her future now depends on her romancing one of these pieces of code. Thankfully, it was just a dream, right?

- Inside the arena (?), she gets some other choices, which Agatha uses to her advantage, trying to figure out which LI she was going for and how to win them over.

- Hort, according to her friend, was the easiest to please and the most boring of them all. Nicola was efficient and Sophie had managed to unlock her happy ending without a walkthrough. Aric was a psycho, and so was Japeth. Don’t pick Rhian, her friend had warned. Anadil was a hard one to guess without the walkthough, Hester was super hot and Agatha’s type but that could go very wrong (clearly her type wasn’t working out, as she was painfully single) and-

- Is that Japeth or Rhian? She can’t tell, but he’s coming her way.

A: introduce yourself

B: try to kill him

C: hide behind the rock

- She chooses C, but climbs a tree instead, because he surely would be able to see her behind the rock, was he blind or something?

- “You sure are taking your time choosing,” a voice whispers from the branch above her, nearly giving her a heart attack, “...first time player maybe? Or just dumb?”

- Tedros, the mysterious character, was looking down at her, resting on a higher branch. 

- Agatha glares at him before blurting: “You’re shorter than you look on your CG.”

- He chokes. “You can hear me?” 

- “Why are you british?” she notices the accent, given how different it sounded from all the other voice actors. 

- “I’m bi,” he frowns at her in offended confusion.

- (The himbo energy in this bus is astronomical.)

- They bicker a bit and Japeth grows suspicious of the hushed conversation, nearing the tree. Tedros asks for her help taking him down. Agatha is like, sure, whatever at this point, just trying to forget that Tedros broke the fourth wall. It’s a dream, don’t overthink too much.

- She distracts Japeth, and Tedros tries to ambush him, but it backfires horribly, resulting in Tedros now being a few seconds away from dying a very very painful death.

A: run away

B: ally yourself with Japeth

- Agatha hesitates over option A, convincing herself that Tedros wasn’t a real person. He was a just a character in a game. But while the entire world is black and white waiting for her answer, she swears his eyes remain icy blue. 

- Trick of the light?

- She presses A but throws herself towards Japeth, colliding with him. Agatha ends up being stabbed in the arm, but otherwise fine, which is more than Japeth can say, as he fell into a conveniently located black hole. That hurt like a bitch, how is this a dream?

- Tedros is shook.

- “What did you do? How did you even-” he eyes the blood in her arm. “You’re bleeding!” Tedros rips his shirt to wrap it around the wound, and Agatha does her best not to stare at him while he tends to the wound.

- A blue ribbon in the sky tells Agatha she is now on Tedros’ route. A ribbon they can both read.

- “That’s… troublesome.”

- “What, is your route cursed or something?”

- “...”

- “It’s totally cursed, isn’t it?”

- They argue a bunch and Agatha tries to ditch him but ends up almost dying twice. Tedros saves her, and insists that since he accidentally gave her his route, he’ll help her stay alive for as long as he can. 

- Together they figure out that Agatha’s ability to disobey the game choices might be able to uncurse his route, hopefully sending her home by the end and resetting the game as it was meant to be, allowing people play his route.

- Agatha is pretty sure Tedros is not telling her something, but she kinda does owns him her life now (“2x1, sucks to suck, reader.”) and he offered to share some of his food and hiding spot with her. Doesn’t hurt that he clearly knew how to fight and had a big sword, while Agatha had.... free will and nothing else apparently???

- They end up talking over fruits and water (we love a healthy king) in a cave and Agatha finds out basically every other character’s backstory, learning a ton about the context of these trials as well as what the game felt like for the characters.

- According to Tedros, every other character was doomed to repeat the same route and actions following the reader’s choices, only to lose all memories by the end, as the game reseted. They were all blissfully ignorant of the fact that this was, in fact, a dating simulator. All of them but Tedros. When Agatha asks him why, he closes off:

- “Every single character has a core wish they want fulfilled. It can be the same wish every time, or it can change once your route resets. My original wish contradicted the memory reset, so no one has been able to play my route at all. And if no one plays, I can’t reset. If you go home and the game resets, I’ll make a different wish and my route should be fixed for good.”

- Agatha doesn’t ask what he wished for and he doesn’t tell her either; it feels like way too personal of a question for strangers eating berries in a cave.

- She does ask him what his new wish will be, though.

 - “I’ll restore my kingdom back to its former glory,” he starts, a certain sadness in his eyes. “They deserve a prince who doesn’t waste time wishing for-” Tedros interrupts himself, telling her about his kingdom instead.

- Agatha knows he’s related to King Arthur due to his name on the Trial By Tale wiki, but she’s surprised that he actually gives her that info willingly. He is indeed the prince of Camelot, but his mother abandoned the palace when he was nine and then his father died a few years later, sending the kingdom into despair and disgrace. 

- (“That’s rough, buddy.”)

- To lighten the mood, she decides to tell him about ‘the reader world’. 

- “To exist in your world might be something then,” he smiles, “I mean, beats hanging around here. You said you have a machine that can play music anytime you want?”

 - Tedros is fascinated with everything and asks her about all sorts of stuff, like about politics, lgbtqa+ rights, tik tok, food, the economy, school and fashion trends. Also, memes, lots of memes.

- They spend like 8 hours straight hidden in a cave, just talking, bickering and actually having a lot of fun. The lack of choices even makes her forget she was still in a game.

- Tedros notices how tired she looks and offers to keep watch while she sleeps.

A: say no as a joke

B: outright refuse

- Agatha taps A.

- “Sure, do you mind if I lean on you though?”

- Is this like a date or are we like doing my route and you’re sleeping on my arm platonically? Tedros is shook, part 2.

- Agatha tries not to fall asleep, but she does take a nap, leaning on his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, an hour later she’s still alive, but her head was now on his lap and he was petting her hair.

- “Hi.”

- “Hi.”

A: get up

B: kiss him

- She doesn’t wanna get up, but she doesn’t really feel like kissing him would be appropriate for the moment. She presses B, yet remains still for next few minutes. Tedros looks a bit disappointed, as if he was waiting for her.

- “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

- “Do you want me to?”

- He doesn’t reply immediately, running his fingers through her hair. “Everyone wants to kiss me. I’m hot, I’m a prince and I’m rich.”

- “You’re gonna need to do better than that to get me to kiss you,” Agatha tells him. “If we survive this I’ll kiss you once, just before we unlock your normal ending and I go home. For a CG.”

- “But then I won’t remember it at all.”

- The comment makes her nervous. Once this is over and Tedros gets his route unlocked, he’s gonna be just another character. He’ll say things like that to everyone. Agatha has to chastise herself for growing attached to a video game character. He’s not real. He wasn’t yours to begin with, you’ve known him for less than a day. Get a grip.

- They stay in silence until another gong goes off, the storian’s text showing up in the air: “12 hours left. Only 10 competitors remain.”

A: stay in the cave

B: leave

- Agatha chooses B and they head out of the cave to see who else was alive, just in time to not be crushed under heavy rocks. Strangely they don’t bump into anyone. What they do run into, though, is a bunch of traps and creatures meant to randomly eliminate competitors. Great.

- Somehow, Agatha always chooses the right option and alters her actions just enough to save them at the last minute. Is she a pro-gamer? One can only marvel at how lucky she’s been getting in this game. No, but like, really, is she? Tedros is impressed.

- At the 6 hour mark, there’s 4 people left, including the two of them. He’s been eyeing Agatha weirdly and she doesn’t know what to think of it because she liked hanging out with him, but at the same time, he is a piece of code.

- There’s like, a dramatic confrontation with the other two competitors, which turn out to be Aric and Hester, not as a pair, but as individuals, and it ends up working out in Tedros and Agatha’s favor, as those two end up murdering each othe while Tedros and Agatha have the advantage of teamwork. It’s a great action sequence, but if you’ve read this far, I’m pretty sure you’re not here for the action.

- Anyway, the storian appears, but unlike the other routes, instead of giving Agatha the opportunity to bargain for them both to survive, her options are:

A: kill Tedros

B: kill Tedros

- Agatha doesn’t tap either. She stays still, glaring at the pen while the world remained black and white.

- Then, the entire arena starts to shake, the game glitching as Tedros moves, his colors fading in and out, his expression tortured, as if just smiling at her was painful, his eyes glowing unnaturally blue. “Let’s get you home,” he mouths, before stabbing himself with his own sword, falling to the floor as the colors returned for good.

- Agatha couldn’t breathe, kneeling beside him.

- “To meet someone who’d love me for me,” he admits, bleeding out into the ground, a single tear running down his face. “That was my original wish. And then I met you.”

- She kisses him on the lips, and as you know, true love’s kiss breaks every spell, heals every wound and transcends the limits of storytelling.

- Tedros’ chest is slowly healing, but just as he gets stronger, Agatha grows weaker, starting to disappear through his fingers in rays of lights, back to the reader’s world, leaving a lonely prince by himself in a bloody arena with a magical pen.

- “Unconditional wish for the winner, hm?”

- Back at the library, Agatha wakes up with a snap, falling off her chair.

- The clock on the wall reads 10pm and the few students left at the library glare at her. She hurries to gather her things in her arms, going back to her dorm trying to make sense of what just happened. It was all a dream. It had to be because her arm is intact. She has been running on too much caffeine, finals start the next morning, she was stressed, that’s all.

- Sophie is still playing the game once Agatha arrives at the dorm, and as soon as she walks in, her friend tells her the news:

- “See, darling, I told you I’d get Chaddick’s route eventually!”

- Chaddick’s route?

- Agatha doesn’t even reply, going straight to bed, still haunted. That night, she has no dreams of handsome boys in caves, neither does she dream of blue-eyed princes bleeding out.

- Monday afternoon, though, a distracted Agatha is walking back to her dorm after taking her exams, when she bumps into someone, nearly knocking her over. She is about to yell at the stranger when her voice gets caught on her throat.

- “To exist in your world might be something,” the familiar stranger smiles at her, “I mean, I’m Tedros Pendragon, nice to meet you.”

#school for good and evil #The School for Good and Evil #sge #agatha x tedros #Tagatha #tedros of camelot #Agatha of camelot #Agatha of Woods Beyond

[fruit-teeth]

Summer School

(Alternate title: how Miss Pauling learned about Mann Co.)

“I don’t wanna do this, mom…” Felicia mumbled, slumped over the table, her fingers picking at the edge of the place-mat.

Maria, her mother, was already tired of this back and forth and she just sighed while she mixed some porridge with a spoon. “Now, look, Felicia: if we don’t do this, it’s gonna be harder for you to go to a good college. I told you this before,”

“But it’s stupid!” Felicia insisted, sitting up to glare at her mother again. “It’s just stupid algebra! I did the rest of the work for the other classes, my grades are good!”

“Well, the algebra grade isn’t,” her mother lifted the spoonful of porridge into the waiting mouth of Frankie, Felicia’s baby brother. He had just turned two a few days ago, but he still got food in the highchair. Felicia almost felt bad for complaining to her mom so much, the poor woman already had her hands full with a two-year-old…

“Besides, summer school might be fun!” her mom tried to reassure. “Your dad took a summer class, he liked it!”

“He was in college…” Felicia mumbled, staring down at her cereal. “Maybe I don’t wanna go to college,”

Frankie smacked his hands on the highchair, babbling and reaching for the porridge. Maria got another spoon ready, looking at the clock. “The bus is gonna be here soon, better eat up,”

Felicia reluctantly finished her cereal, and she stood up to grab her bookbag. “All right, I’m gonna go wait for the bus,”

Maria set the spoon down and pulled Felicia close, kissing her right on the cheek. “Have a good day, baby! I know you’re gonna do great,”

“Mom!” Felicia wiggled away, although secretly she liked the attention. Her mother was always so busy with Frankie that any type of attention from her was nice. She reached over and patted Frankie’s head. “Okay, bye-bye!”

As Felicia walked out the door, she heard Frankie calling after her in his tiny voice, “Bye! Bye!” and she couldn’t help but smile.

Felicia boarded the bus when it arrived. It was mostly empty, and deep down, she hoped she would be the only person to attend summer school this year. She didn’t want to have to deal with the other kids; she had friends, make no mistake, but its just that none of them were going to summer school.

Soon enough, though, other kids began to board. Mostly boys, though there was one girl who boarded shortly afterwards. She sat behind Felicia, before reaching up and pulling on her hair. “Hey!”

Felicia flinched at the tug, turning around and giving the girl a glare. “What!?”

The girl grinned a toothy grin. “Are you Felicia Pauling?”

Felicia blinked slowly. “Why…?”

“Your dad’s the band teacher, right?”

Felicia nodded. “Yeah, he’s at the high school,”

The girl’s grin got wider, and she giggled. Felicia started to feel uneasy. “What’s so funny?”

“My big sister had him for band, and she says he’s really weird!” the girl laughed. “She and her friends think he’s probably killed someone!”

Felicia just sighed loudly, crossing her arms and turning around as the girl laughed some more. “Jeez…”

They eventually arrived at the school. The bus stopped, and the driver let everyone off. All the kids were ushered to a big classroom which Felicia recognized as the detention room (she’d only gotten detention once, for being in the hallway without a hall pass), where the teacher was already waiting.

She was very tall woman, with curled hair and bright red lipstick, though she looked exhausted already. “Hello, everyone,” she greeted once the children were all seated. “Welcome to summer school…we’re gonna be here for four weeks, hope it’s fun for you guys. Anyway, I’m Mrs. Oxman, I’m gonna be looking after you,” she cleared her throat, picking up a clipboard. “Let’s do attendance,”

Mrs. Oxman went down the attendance sheet, marking who said they were present. When she got to Felicia’s name, she paused and looked up. “Pauling? Your last name is Pauling?”

Felicia nodded, feeling a bit intimidated by the woman. “Y-yeah?”

Mrs. Oxman looked Felicia up and down. “Are you Rob’s daughter? Robert Pauling, at the high school?”

Felicia nodded again. “Yeah,” she tried not to pay attention to the giggling she heard once more.

“Huh,” Mrs. Oxman pursed her lips for a moment. “Wow. I’ve met Rob, you know. He’s a great man, real smart…”

“Yeah,” Felicia agreed, smiling a little. Her dad was smart, despite being considered ‘weird’ by a lot of people.

“How’d one of his kids end up in summer school?” Mrs. Oxman’s tone shifted to one more condescending, and Felicia’s face fell the moment she heard it. Maybe Mrs. Oxman was trying to be funny, but Felicia didn’t laugh.

A boy behind her did, though. “’Cause she sucks at math, that’s why!”

Felicia could hear more giggling, and she just wanted to disappear right then and there. Mrs. Oxman’s voice cut through the children’s laughter, “All right, all right, that’s enough! Let’s finish attendance so we can get this over with…”

Once the attendance was finished, Mrs. Oxman passed out worksheets for the students to complete. Felicia could hardly focus on hers, though – she already didn’t want to be here, and now the other students had laughed at her…she was smart, she knew she was. It was just this stupid math that was the reason she was even here. As she stared at the equations and numbers on the desk in front of her, she could feel the tears burning at her eyes, and the lump in her throat grew worse and worse.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore, and she raised her hand. “C-can I use the bathroom?”

Mrs. Oxman didn’t look up from the magazine she was reading, the cigarette still hanging out of her red lips. “I dunno, can you?” she laughed, gesturing to the door. “Sure, go ahead,”

Felicia murmured a ‘thank you’ and headed out the classroom door, stumbling to the girl’s bathroom. Once inside, she hid away in one of the stalls and cried, bunching up her jacket and using it as a pillow to lay on the floor. She wept openly, hoping that no one would walk in and hear her, and she desperately wished she could go back home to be with her parents and Frankie.

With these thoughts in her mind, her crying eventually wore her out, and she soon fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor. She hardly realized she had fallen asleep until she opened her eyes again, wiping the dried tears out of them.

Felicia stood up on shaky legs, grabbing her jacket and pausing in front of the mirror to wipe her eyes again. She headed out of the bathroom, hoping no one would question or make assumptions about why she’d been in the bathroom so long.

However, when she stepped out into the hallway, everything was silent. It was an eerie, ominous kind of silence, one that made her gut clench in worry. She tried to shake it off, opening the classroom door, but that was when her heart dropped.

The classroom was empty. For a split second, Felicia concluded that the class ended already, and everyone had gone home, but she looked at the clock and realized this couldn’t be the case. The class was supposed to be two hours each day, and only an hour had passed.

There was no reason why they should have left by now, not to mention all of the books, pencils, bags, and worksheets had all been left behind. It looked as though everyone had left in a hurry.

Felicia wandered around the room, her heart pounding. She felt sick with worry, her mind reeling with all kinds of things that possibly could have happened: what if they got abducted by aliens? What if the rapture happened while she was gone? Her religious grandmother had told her about the rapture, it had scared Felicia out of her mind when she had first heard it.

Yet it would be neither of those things, for it was at this moment that Felicia heard a banging from down the hallway. She turned slowly, going to the door and peeking through the crack.

From the down the hall, she could see a figure approaching the classroom. They appeared to be moving erratically, and from a distance, Felicia could hear them muttering something while occasionally sobbing loudly.

Felicia knew she had to act quickly: her eyes scanned the room for the first thing she could use to defend herself, and they landed on the letter-opener sitting out on the teacher’s desk. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, Felicia grabbed the letter-opener and clutched it tightly in her fist, staring at the door with wide eyes.

The loud sobbing and muttering got closer, before the door swung open. Standing there was a distraught-looking woman, with tears rolling down her face, a knife in her hand.

“That damn Mann Co. ruined my life!” the woman wailed. “They sent my husband to his death—they didn’t care about him! All they cared about were their stupid contracts! He’s dead because of them! Now this god-forsaken school wants to keep my son behind a grade—I hate this! I hate it!” she let out another mournful wail, stabbing her knife into the bulletin board on the wall.

Felicia just stood there, the letter-opener in her fist, and she suddenly recognized this woman. She was a lunch lady at the cafeteria, she had a son who was a grade or two behind Felicia, and although Felicia had never spoken to her outside of getting food from the lunch line every day, she never would have seen her as the type to do…whatever this was.

Felicia took a step forward, though she was very frightened of the woman who was weeping and feverishly tearing apart the bulletin board. She tried to think of her name. “M…Mrs. Bidwell? Are you okay?”

The woman paused, turning to look at Felicia, and it seemed her eyes were burning into her soul. She straightened up, looking Felicia in the eyes, and it looked like she was about to say something when the door flew open.

Robert Pauling rushed into the room, frantically looking around. When he spotted Felicia, he gasped and snatched her up. “Felicia! What are you doing here!?”

“S-summer school!” Felicia tried to clarify, and when her father hugged her, she didn’t feel the need to explain herself anymore and instead curled into his chest, breaking down into tears.

Robert rubbed her back for a moment, before he set her down again, stepping in front of her to act as a barrier between Mrs. Bidwell and Felicia. “Eliza, stop this. This is wrong and you know it,”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Eliza shrieked, pointing the knife at him. “My life is so lost— I can’t…I can’t…” she broke down again, and Robert gently pried the knife from her fingers and set it down on a nearby desk. He then pulled Eliza into a hug, where she started wailing louder again.

“They killed him, Rob!” she sobbed. “His boss sent him out, he didn’t come back…”

“I know…” Robert hushed her. “I’m sorry…but think about Jonathan, okay? Jonathan needs you, he needs his mom. Don’t worry about the Mann brothers, they’re gonna get what’s coming for them…I’m sure of it…” he didn’t sound terribly sure, though.

Felicia watched in confusion. Who were the Mann brothers? Did her father know Mrs. Bidwell? What was going on?

The paramedics arrived shortly after this. It was confirmed that Eliza did not actually hurt anyone, but in any case, she was swiftly removed from the school grounds in an ambulance. One of the paramedics had wanted to call the police, but Robert had strongly argued against that, insisting that she instead should be taken to the hospital.

Robert got Felicia into the car once things had simmered down, and he gave her a drink of water from his water bottle.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked gently, watching her face.

Felicia downed a good half of the water, setting it down in the cupholder. Her hands were still shaky from the adrenaline, but she felt much safer in her father’s car.

“W-why was Mrs. Bidwell acting that way?” she wanted to know.

Robert sighed, focusing on the road ahead as they headed down the street. “Felicia…Mrs. Bidwell is…going through a lot. Her husband died at his job,”

Felicia thought back to what Mrs. Bidwell had said. “Someone killed him, right?”

“I—” he swallowed, visibly reluctant to tell Felicia all the details. “…yes, that’s what it looks like. See, he works out of town, farther away from here, for Mann Co. You ever heard of them? They have ads in the paper sometimes,”

“Oh,” now that he mentioned it, Felicia had seen the logo before. “I think so. But why would that happen to him?”

“The owners of the company…” Robert’s fingers tapped the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. “They get involved with bad people sometimes, and they need other people to stop those bad people from hurting their company. Eliza’s husband was someone Mann Co. hired to help them,”

Felicia just nodded, still confused but taking it in. She thought about Jonathan: he was younger than her, and he didn’t even have a dad anymore. Now his mother was at the hospital…

“What’s gonna happen to Jonathan?” Felicia wanted to know. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“I…don’t know,” Robert confessed. “He’s gonna need support, though. Maybe we can go visit him, later. Do you know him?”

“Not really,”

“Well, we can get to know him. I haven’t seen him since he was a baby,” Robert turned the corner, heading towards their house. “But for now, let’s go inside. Your mom’s anxious to see you,”

Felicia turned to stare out the window, watching the houses pass by. What did it mean to deal with ‘bad people’ for this company? And how did Jonathan’s dad die from that? How did her father even know this? It was scary, she told herself it was scary and evil…but she was curious. Perhaps a little too curious.

What she never would have anticipated, though, was being hired for that exact position many years later, instead of going to college.

#writing #my writing #tf2 #tf2 fanfic #YIPPEEE finally got this done #hope its good #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 bidwell #yea so this is partially her backstory but also his? #hes not really in it tho #but still #ask to tag #i feel like this needs trigger warnings but i literally can't think of any atm #so lemme know #long post

[inevitableenquere]

Mademoiselle Mari

Insp. by a comment on the Maribat Discord:

Buckle up, biches.

We’re gonna pull deep into DC canon for the French codename for female superheroes, Mademoiselle Marie, in use since the 18th century through the World Wars and probably beyond. Alfred Pennyworth worked closely with “Mademoiselle Marie” in the past.

In this universe, its expanded into a French government-sponsored training program, training little girls in espionage and assassinry since the Cold War. These program heads aren’t monsters; the girls still live with their families, still go to civilian school, they just occasionally “take trips to see distant relatives”.

Their parents are aware that their daughters are doing government work, and there’s a benefit package unlike any other available within the country. Salary is set aside in trust for “Marie” until she hits adulthood (precaution in case of shitty parents) and a stipend besides for her and her parents to use as they see fit. These girls get a full-ride “scholarship” to any accredited global university of their choice. Only the best of the best risk their lives for wet-work necessary for the good of France. These girls become unsung heroes of France, and they receive glowing recommendations when they decide to move on from the program.

Still, it’s not something the Dupein-Cheng family had thought of for their daughter, it’s not a well-known program after all. The handlers don’t have an eye on her until new mayor of Paris, freshly divorced, André Bourgeois brings the girl “bullying his little princess” to their attention. And that is how six-year-old Marinette Dupein-Cheng is brought into the program.

Now, Marinette, tiny little bi-racial girl, is competitive, and this program is something she enjoys, learning from adults and “older sisters” on how to tumble, dance, act, create, and make new friends– both in person with the other girls, and through letters to former agents and outside contacts. They craft a network based on previously established agency contacts and expand upon them as they move out in the world.

Marinette quickly becomes a star student, moving on to weapons training, and eventually becomes one of the first to graduate in her batch and she travels the world as pre-teen superspy “Mademoiselle Marie”. (Whose last name changes by assignment.)

This is how she meets Damian Al Ghul, prince of the League of Assassins for the first time, though he’s introduced to her as “independent contractor” Caracal. He clocks her as trained, and a threat right away, and takes his standard precautionary measure. He attempts to murder her.

Attempts, because Mari is just as trained as he is, if not as lethally inclined. He quickly finds himself pinned under her knee, knife to his throat. (Later, he insists that he was having an off day, helplessly grateful that he hadn’t succeeded.) But in the moment they agree to a truce and go their own way, Marie Simon to her “parents”, Caracal to the shadows from whence he came.

Naturally, the next time they meet they are “distant cousins” on a collaborative wetworks mission in Thessaly, against an uppity German drug lord, and his mad-scientist wife. The mission goes a bit sideways, took more luck than either will admit to pull it off, and they emerge from the aftermath, a grudging respect on both sides. Even if she’s too soft and he’s an arrogant andouille.

Through happenstance and circumstances, they run into each other enough, work together enough, to become friends. Friends, in this case, meaning “person I won't stab on sight and/or who owes me a favor”. A rarity for Damian.

Marinette thinks otherwise; with friendships among those in her organization, and tentative friendships with some of the boys in école, she considers Caracal an Ally. A lonely sad boy, sure, but more a feral street cat then a friend. It takes more than a few meetings for Marinette to consider him a Ride-or-Die Friend.

Through the years, these two baby assassins grow into a friendship that withstands facing each other as enemies to reunite with no hard feelings at the next meeting between them. After all it’s Just Business, and they both know that well.

And then Hawkmoth.

Marinette can’t be Ladybug, “defender of Paris” when “Mademoiselle Marie” travels across the globe networking for her government and taking down European threats. Marinette reluctantly resigns from her position, and she takes up a red-spotted mantle.

Now the Mlle. Marie Organization aren’t idiots. Marinette Dupein-Cheng retires with accolades, offered a permanent place whenever she finishes her “hiatus”. And if the Parisian Police are instructed from on high to look the other way for Ladybug? Well, it’s best to leave superhero business to superheroes.

People in the organization are Carefully Not Thinking About It.

Completely coincidentally, therapy and healthy coping mechanisms are now mandatory for all operatives working within Paris and the surrounding areas.

That said, she still has to tell her assassin that she’s retiring.

Damian does not take it well.

Not like murder not well.

Like communication blackout and regime change in Peru not well.

Damian gives her the silent treatment. After all, she’s Out. (She abandoned him.)

Little does he know, his mother is working to get him out as well.

Marinette, meanwhile is Not Happy that Mothman Barbie decided to take out his issues on her home turf. The Mlle. Marie project is supposed to be foreign support, and last line of defense. So I mean it's in her wheelhouse. She just enjoyed her job as a globetrotting pre-teen superspy.

She doesn’t want to be chained down to the homefront, not when there's so much inspiration out there! Putting all that on hold for Mothman Barbie in Paris, eating into her free time, sleep, and drastically cutting into her social life? Bitch.

Civilian life makes her itch now, stuck in one place with confusing, mandatory, rules. Fictional barriers and preteen posturing, and only one hidden knife? Being Marinette is Suffering™. New friend Alya and pretty-boy Adrien can only relieve it so much.

Yes she has a bit of a crush. He's pretty and a model. Shut up.

Tikki is pleased she's got another loyal warrior, a second coming of Jeanne d'Arc, though she wishes Marinette was kinder. That's something she learns while dealing with Mothman Barbie. Not just how to act kind, to prevent akumas. But how to genuinely be kind. How to unlock the empathy she'd learned to tune out years ago, and how to act altruistically.

During her collège years Marinette juggles the life of a teen superhero, making friends with her class sincerely for the first time in years, something she didn’t get the chance to do with her frequent trips. Beyond Nino and Kim that is.

When Lila comes she deems her as annoying, but not worth her time. Until she’s the one turning her friends into akumas, with broken promises and lies that damage reputations. Marinette has a set future, as long as she keeps to the laws of this land and doesn’t slaughter a bitch. Lila can’t do anything to her. But if she hurts any of her friends, Lila is getting a horse head in her bed, American cliché or not.

Thankfully her crush on Adrien dies a silent death during this time. She can’t see herself with someone who won’t stand up for himself, nor with someone who enables a pathological liar that is one move away from harming the rest of her friends. She’s unspeakably grateful for that when Mothman Barbie is revealed to be his absentee father and Mayura to be the closest thing he has to a living mother. She’s able to focus her attention on his mental state and not how stupidly pretty he is.

Adrien is cemented as her best friend and platonic life partner in a catsuit. Adrien, once he got over his crush on the "idol" Ladybug, is happy to treat her the same. He’s just glad that his Lady won’t leave him for what his family had done.

Despite Mari’s wishes, Ladybug can’t retire just yet. People come out of the woodwork to fill in the vacuum left behind from the fashion-blind terrorist that held Paris in fear for three years. Ladybug is a celebrity, and Paris would be left uneasy if the city’s heroes left them undefended. She trains to be a guardian with Master Fu, to find more permanent Miraculous holders to take up the defense of Paris, and later the world. She finally has the free time to devote to her fashion commissions and to pick up the occasional job with her old organization.

It’s mid-way through lycée that Jagged invites her as his plus one to a charity gala in the United States. As his designer, and as an inconspicuous bodyguard that has combat training (far more than he knows), Marinette is the best choice when Penny is on leave. It gives his favorite niece the chance to network with American big shots, and get her brand noticed by more than just a few fashion moguls in Paris.

Which leads us to today. Marinette Dupein-Cheng– agent on leave, teenage superhero, aspiring designer, and temporary bodyguard of her surrogate uncle– spots a very familiar profile across the room.

Her assassin, dressed to kill, possibly literally. And she resigns herself to once more being on the opposite side of the boy who cut her out of his life, and any attempts to get in touch with him.

She’s dressed in a MDC original (with more hidden knives on her person than people would think), as she goes through the familiar song-and-dance and slips into the mindset of Mademoiselle Marie.

Stolen glances across the room. How have they been? Will they talk to me again even if I left/left her in silence?

Both are on edge. They are professionals and an unexpected meeting won't prevent them from keeping their loved ones charges safe.

It's like they never left the business, the two of them. They don't know each other. I've never seen them before. They can't have been the murderer because I saw them head to the bathroom. Just don't. touch. what's. Mine.

They're Friends after all.

Thankfully nothing happens at the party.

Damian Wayne saw her. How could he have ignored her, magnetic as she ever was. His eyes periodically drawn to her, partly assessment, partly admiration. When nothing happens at the gala, he figures that she’s changed as much as he has. And Damian has changed. He's softer and he knows it. He's been Out almost as long as she has, and in trying to hold to his father’s standards, he doesn’t think he could slip into the mindset of the ruthless prince of assassins so easily any more.

The silence and loss of his first friend on the other hand, was a wound that lingered even as he learned of civilian friendships and built connections with other superheroes around his age. This was a chance to introduce himself to his oldest friend. Without business between them this time.

It's Damian that does the signal.

Mari trips and giggles at the end of the night over to her assassin. It's easy after years of "Clumsy Marinette can't possibly be Ladybug!" She plays up the petite harmless French girl.

"Mon Caracal!" She calls from 3 feet away, stumbling into his arms.

She hugs him, compartmentalizing the muscled form that holds her safely, knowing he can kill her if she plays this wrong.Not without a fight though.

She hugs him more surely, kissing both his cheeks the way neither of them would be allowed outside of acting. "It's been far too long!"

She pulls away to see him gazing down at her, and wow someone has given him acting lessons because he smiles soft, fond, and far more real than he ever had Before.

"Marie."

She boops him on the nose. "Marinette." She teases coyly. She can't tell him her last name. For the safety of her parents, but also to keep cover as close friends.

"Marinette." He nods, crooked smile on his face, and away from prying eyes there's the signal that he'll keep his mouth shut about her name.

Speaking of prying eyes... "Marinette!" Uncle Jagged calls, making his way over to the pair of them. Her assassin is surprised, though few would be able to tell, at the world-famous rockstar approaching them.

"Uncle Jagged!" She answers, facing him but keeping a hand on the muscled arm of her friend to keep him from attacking, just in case.

She plays up the accent. Just a rockstar with his very French™ niece and her boy toy, nothing to see here!

"Jagged," she says again looking up at her uncle, "this is my good friend–"

"Damian" her assassin, starstruck or not, can follow his cue.

Between them is the subtle flash of information-true-hidden as she speaks over it to distract Jagged. "–Damian, my caracal."

Jagged bristles a little, baring his teeth in what those who don't know him would call a toothy grin, rather than a threat.

"And is Damian rock-and-roll enough for my favorite designer, M?"

"He's very kind," she confides with a Marinette-sweet smile. In his own way. she finishes the thought ruefully. A small part of her brain is cackling hysterically.

Jagged relaxes, and drags the both of them forward, holding a polaroid out to snap a picture of the three of them. ("Very Rock-and-Roll!" Jagged had said three months earlier.) He shakes the picture to development, and autographs it with a flourish, before stuffing it into Damian's hands.

"Well any friend of Marinette's is a friend of mine! And M? Car leaves in 10." He smiles, patting them both on the shoulder before sauntering off.

"I." Damian tries. He sighs.

"Jagged Stone? Jagged? Really Marie?" Damian asks, slipping once more into the familiar nickname. Marinette decided to let it slide, Jagged had that effect on a lot of people.

Marinette shrugs helplessly, before fishing a pen and spare notepad for her to jot down her contact information. It had only been a night but that familiar rush and heady friendship was something that Mari didn't want to lose if she could help it. She placed the paper with the photograph, putting the lethal pen back in her clutch, and cupping his face in both hands.

"Keep in touch this time? Please mon caracal?" If her begging was a little more heartfelt, well she’d learned a few things too. She kissed his cheek one final time and stepped away.

A hand caught her wrist.

"It hasn't been the same without you, Marinette." Damian said, hand slipping into hers, thumb gently brushing the back of it. He lifted her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles, before stepping away and towards the exit.

I must not swoon. I must not swoon. I must not swoon. Marinette chanted internally as she left to find Jagged, already looking forward to turning a Friendship into something more honest. More real.

-Meanwhile, In The Lobby-

"What was that, baby bird?" Dick asked his youngest brother.

"An old friend." Damian answered tersely, pointedly ignoring the curious stare from his Father and the more obnoxious kissy noises from Todd.

"Hell of an old friend." Tim commented, sounding almost put out, probably because of the unexpected personal introduction to Jagged Stone and autograph Damien had received. "You let her get close."

Damian raised an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes, "PDA close!" he expounded like that explained anything.

Dick must have sensed his confusion, " You attempted to judo-flip Kor'i when you first met her. And you let this tiny girl hug you and kiss your cheeks."

Damian scowled, "I'm not that bad!"

"You bit me last week when I went to ruffle your hair!" Jason said, tugging his suit sleeve back to reveal light scarring.

"And?" Damian said, very done with the conversation already.

"We just wanted to know how long you've been pining for her, baby bird." Dick teased.

Damian felt a betraying heat creep up the back of his neck, to his ears and cheeks. "It's not like that!" He hissed.

"I-" he paused, wondering how he could explain the beautiful, cunning girl who knew of his past, was honestly the best part of it, and how she had watched his back, kept him safe and sane, had killed people on his tail even, without making them regard her as a threat.

His grandfather would have made her an example. Vivisected, drawn and quartered for daring to get close to his perfect weapon.

"I've known her for years. We're Friends, and that means I'll allow her more than I would you, Todd."

He stalked forward, as his father called behind him, "You should introduce us when you feel comfortable, Damian."

He stopped, listening but not daring to turn around.

"After all," Damian could hear the grin in his father's voice, "It'll be nice to meet my future daughter-in-law!"

Screw the Joker, Batman ends right here, right now.

#maribat #maridami #damimari #dc x mlb #daminette #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #superspy marinette #superspy marinette dupein-cheng #assassin damian #mothman barbie #mothman barbie is a punkass bitch #my fic

[visndcaitswhore]

Ephemeral|| FRED WEASLEY

Summary: Starting his first year at Hogwarts Hades Lestrange thought it was going to be peaceful and he would keep a low profile. But peaceful and low profile isn't in the twins' vocabulary, apparently.

                                                           TWO

The Slytherin dorms where quiet, which made sense since it was the middle of the night and every student after eating to their hearts content had quickly retired for the night. Yet, in the dark and suprisingly warm room- of course, there is no way the wealthy parents would allow their kids to freeze under the lake- a sigh sounded through the quiet of the room.

Hades shifted for the hundreth time that night, sleep wasn't his friend that night. Laying on his side he pushed the dark green curtains of the bed aside slightly to peek at the clock that was resting on the bed side table. He squinted at the clock which told him that it was almost 4 in the morning.

He closed the curtains with a groan.

Whatever, he thought, time is relevant.

Fuck, he needed sleep.

He closed his eyes trying to fool himself into thinking that he is asleep but that did not seem to work because of the unexplained uneasiness he felt. Well, not exactly unexplainable, he knew it was because of the red headed twin storms and their friendship that lasted for almost three hours or so.

It was stupid to think about them so much, of course it wouldn't last. He knew that. But he lost himself, he was happy and he laughed so much he forgot to take in account their worn out shirts, their baggy clothes that obviously weren't originally bought for them but for someone taller, propably a sibling. No signs of wealth anywhere, he couldn't associate himself with them even if they were sorted in slytherin.

Which they would not want, who would seat in a table full of back stabbing snakes?

Assholes, mother fucking, horses ars-

There was a loud snore from one of the boys that broke the silence out of nowhere, causing Hades to fall off his bed with a loud thud, becoming a tangled mess with his covers. Struggling, he managed to push his upper body glaring at the boy,

"Sorry, Lestrange" he mumbled sleepisly before turning to his side and falling asleep.

The dark haired boy just growled at him as he considered attacking his fellow slytherin but he decided to let it go as something dawned to him.

He was a Lestrange- rich, spoiled and entitled. He didn't know what that meant in its entirety but what he did know was the fact that he absolutely should not be bothered by irrelevant Gryffindors who were quite clearly prejudiced against him for his house while ironically calling Slytherins prejudiced.

He scoffed, shaking his head with a smile.

"What a joke..."

And everything went quite again, and stillness conquered.

Then a very loud snore shook the bedroom, again.

"For fucks" Hades grabbed the pillow from underneath the snoring boy, before attacking,

Hades walked the halls of Hogwarts like a zombie on his first day. His dark curls were all over the place, his tie was made up the wrong way and he would glare at anyone that dared talk to him this early.

Any activities before 12 should be forbidden by human rights, he scowled.

But does that mean that he would have a quite day?

No, because the universe had another obstacle for him that morning. And it had purple hair.

"Hey, Hadie, wait up!"

Hades did not respond to the name Hadie so he chose to ignore the female voice but the girl just moved to walk beside him.

"You are Hades Lestrange, right?" Asked the purple ball of energy and loudness.

"No. I'm Miguel"

The purple haired girl threw her head back with an obnoxious laugh, almost falling causing her to grab onto the dark haired boy.

As she laughed Hades kept glaring at her hand located on his arm, then at her face. Glare at her hand, then glare at her face. He continued to do that as she came down from her high, wiping away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes

"You are funny, mini Lestrange "

Salazar, give me strength to not slap this bitch.

"I'm not that small" he sounded pretty offended. Which he was. He knew he was pretty small for his age but he still had room to grow, or that's what his uncle told him one day when he was giving him the cold shoulder for calling him short.

"Aww, of course you are. You are cute and small, with really cute cheeks. Perfect for squeeezing" she 'complimented' while squeezing his cheek really hard giving him a mischievous smile.

Hades slapped her hand away, suddenly thankful that there were only a few students at the hall.

"Rude" she gasped "Is this how you treat your cousin?"

"No cousin of mine has purple hair, I can assure you" Of that he was pretty sure, purple hair just didn't fit with the dark and brooding death eaters of  his family.  It wasn't angsty enough.

"Well, now you do. I'm Tonks" she extended her hand for a handshake with a huge smile.

"Your first name is Tonks? Your parents dont really like you" he furrowed his eyebrows

Another obnoxious laugh.

He didn't know, or even like this girl, but she sure knew how to laugh.

"You are good, mini Lestrange"

"Meh"

"Dora!" a male voice cut their conversation off giving Hades the opportunity to try and bold as Tonks was looking at the by that called her. Only for her to grab his cloak without even looking.

The red headed boy walked closer to the two with a smile ignoring the pouting and glaring Hades, held captive by Tonks.

"Dora, you need to stop skipping classes. Sprout is looking for you"

"Well, I'm sure that she can excuse me this time. It's a family reunion!" she put a hand around Hades shoulders when he tried to wiggle his cloak out of her hold "Charlie, meet my cousin. Hades, Charlie Weasley"

The dark haired boy stopped struggling, pushing his dark curls back, looking at Charlie in pure shock.

Charlie was a very handsome young man, that much was clear. With red hair reaching past his ears, with shining blue eyes that were slightly screwed as he smiled down at Hades kindly. The boy bit down on his cheek as he could feel the blood rushing through his cheeks, quite a contrast on his pale skin. He wasn't sure if he was blushing because Charlie was handsome or because his last name was Weasley, reminding him of the twins he so wanted to strangle now.

A bit of both.

Charlie moved for a handshake when Hades made a sound of realization. With his mouth agape he pointed at Tonks accusingly "Tonks, Andromeda's new surname after marrying a muggle born." he paused "So, your first name isn't Tonks"

"Nope," she said playfully "but you can just call me Tonks"

Charlie, saw an opportunity and took it "Her name is Nymphadora"

There was a glint in the cousins' eyes.

"Don't call me Nymphadora" said the girl with a dangerous glint in her eyes as her hair turned red.

Meanwhile, Hades and Charlie smirked at each other. The glint in Hades' eyes screamed mischief. And here he thought he would get bored without annoying Draco for a whole year, little did he know the next victim would offer herself over to him. Cousins are a blessing.

"Anyways!" Hades interrupted their bickering "I have to go to my potions class. See you later," he pinched Dora's cheek affectionately with a shit eatting grin "Nymphadora"

Hades turned on his heels, suddenly very jolly as he skipped away with an evil laugh.

So, Hades was set on one thing. His potions teacher is an insecure asshole who likes to bully kids, propably because he finds no real joy in his life. And to top it all off, he was the head of his house.

And to add to that, the asshole kept calling on Hades even when his hand wasn't raised. Obviously because his last name, Lestrange, meant that he knew every single answer. Which he did, but thats besides the point. The point was that Hades' anxiety had reached its peak, and he thought he would propably have a cardiac arrest,

Not to mention he was obviously biased towards his house and he didn't even hide it as he took points from the Gryffindor's mercilessly for every stupid reason he could find, usually undeservingly. The only instance that was excused was when the twins made tampered with another students potion making it explode in his face as they died of laughter. Hades almost smiled.

If the potion had exploded in Snapes face he would have laughed not caring about the consequences.

But that small prank costed 20 points from Gryffindor and Snape seperating the twins, so thats how Hades ended up trying to scoot as far away from Fred as possible. Thankfully, Fred respected his boundaries as they both worked on their seperate assignments while stealing glances at each other from time to time.

As they stole glances at eah other their eyes met, and they held eye contact for a few seconds before the redness spread from their neck to their whole face and they looked away, wide eyed.

Hades cleared his throat, continuing with the potion but not before slapping Fred's hand away as he tried to sneak something into his cauldron.

"Touche" whined Fred rubbing his hand

"I thought we were the snakes that went behind people's backs?" Hades asked not even bothering to look up from his cauldron as he threw in the last incredients.

"I never-" tried Fred, touching Hades' wrist but he was quick to raise his hand

"Professor, I'm done"

The head of his house made his way towards him to check his work. As he examined his cauldron, Hades and Fred examined his face wondering what he felt since his expression continued to be sour and his eyes basically dead. The two first years ex changed looks, then looked back at their teacher in curiosity.

"Very well done, Mr. Lestrange. 10 points to Slytherin." Then his eyes fell on Fred's unfinished project "Mr. Weasley, why don't you follow Mr. Lestrange's," he trailed off as he saw that Fred still had his hand on Hades wrist, the slytherin not bothered in the slightest. Honestly, they had forgotten about it but now they noticed and quickly pulled their hands away ", example" Snape then walked away with a confused expression, not really wanting to know the details.

"Yeah, follow my example, Weasley" Hades smirked.

Fred puffed his chest , clasping his hands behind his back, sticking his nose high in the air "It's Mr. Weasley to you, young man" he shook his head disapprovingly "Kids these days"

Hades just smiled "Well, you should propably get used to following my example."

Fred's smile fell as he instead narrowed his eyes at the shorter boy whose smile widened. Snape dismissed

"Finally," Hades sighed "Now you can go back to your non- backstabbing Gryffindors, and I can finally be rid of your horrible excuse to a humor, yeah?" and with that he grabbed his books and walked out of the classroom.

Fred watched his back before George snapped him out of his daze and they walked out of the classroom with Lee as Fred explained to them their next plan.

#fred weasley #george weasley #Harry Potter #Hermione Granger #Ron Weasley #Draco Malfoy #lee jordan #magic #hogwarts #wizard #bellatrix lestrange #slytherin #Gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #Sirius orion black #bxblove #lgbtq #remus lupin #witchcraft #witch #dumbledore #angst

[angstyryguy]

A Digital Fever

no pairings

no spoilers for anything in the series, it’s just somewhere during season 1

themes: whump, sickfic

words: 3668

Summary:

Ryan is a Walker and Walkers do not get sick. So when Ryan goes to school with a high fever and his powers in turmoil, what else can happen than something bad?

******

A common cold was not something the Ryan Walker could have. He didn’t get sick. That was his whole thing.

...Apart from the whole “controlling technology with his mind" of course. That was still an important thing.

Oh, and the fact that he was one of the pilots of Mech X4…

Yeah, he actually had a couple of things, but that was beside the point. The point was, he didn’t get sick, so now that his nose was a little runny and his brain was a little slow as he woke up from the infuriatingly loud blaring of his alarm clock, he was fine. It didn’t matter that he swayed a bit as he stood from his bed, or that he didn’t feel like eating his mom’s newest experimental breakfast food. Everything was totally– 

“Hey, you okay Ry-guy?”

“Fine.”

Ryan and Mark were seated at the kitchen table as their mom was preparing the batter for her food truck's famous pancakes. She eyed Ryan with her scanning motherly eyes as her spatula was frozen mid-spin in the bowl. She didn’t look convinced in the slightest.

Ryan quickly grabbed his fork to stuff his mouth with eggs. He looked her in the eyes as he chewed. See? he tried to show his mom, I’m totally fine. 

She sighed and set about mixing her batter again, seemingly content enough that he was at least eating now. He was glad her motherly instincts didn’t mean she could actually read minds. He really didn't want her to know just how hard it was to swallow even the smallest bite. His stomach turned even as he thought about it.

He shuffled his food around on his plate with his fork for a bit, making it seem as if he had touched more of it than just that one bite, and then quickly left the kitchen table. He grabbed his bag just as Mark scraped his plate clean. Show off. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Ryan said, already heading out of the door. He couldn’t actually go to school without Mark, since he was his ride, but acting like he was leaving without him helped with the pressure to get Mark to follow. He wanted this day to be over as quickly as possible. Mark gave a quick goodbye smile to mom and dashed off after Ryan, his own bag sloppily thrown over one shoulder.

“Hey wait up!”

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

School was dreaded for a reason, but when you were definitely not sick, it was even worse. The first half of the day went by slow, like really slow, but manageable. Lessons were boring, teachers were not too terrible and the low buzz of the school board, the computers, smartphones and lamps were not too distracting. 

No, if only lessons had been his school day, he would have survived it.

But he hadn’t thought about lunch time. The canteen was filled with chaos and noise. His mind felt like it was being crushed little by little with every yell and every time someone laughed. All the phones of all the students were buzzing and ringing and going off at the same time, or at least it felt like it. Nails tapped on screens and batteries hummed in disharmony. The constant noises pained his ear drums and filled his head with a hundred stabbing needles.

He was so overwhelmed from the sound, he couldn’t help but flinch a little when suddenly a hand patted him on his shoulder.

Spyder appeared before him. “Are you gonna stand in the doorway the whole time?" A mischievous grin spread on his face. "Because I will gladly take your sandwiches if you aren’t up for it you know? Maybe then I can finally build a tower of cheese. Man, I have always wanted to do that.”

Harris punched Spyder in his side. “No one’s taking Ryan’s sandwiches, dude. Now, are we gonna go to our table or what? I want to finish up on my project before the next term starts.”

Ryan softly shook his head to get rid of the slowly creeping nausea and to try and shake away all the sounds, but he wasn’t successful at all. No matter, he could hold on until he could be home and safely in his bed again. Just half a day left.

“Yeah, yeah let’s go, I’m starving.”

The trio sat at their usual table and as always, Spyder and Harris lost themselves in a debate over something incredibly stupid. This time it was about the best kind of sandwich to ever exist. Spyder insisted that his abomination of a sandwich, with salmon, cheese, peanut butter and chocolate spread, topped off with a little bit of mashed potatoes, was the most delicious thing in the world. Meanwhile Harris was sure that combination of flavors shouldn't even be legal.

Ryan sighed as he tuned out the voices of his friends and instead took out his phone. Maybe some dumb video's would help him ignore his throbbing headache for a while. He clicked on one of Cassie's reports on the school's kickbox team. Of course, his brother was the big star of the video, and normally he didn't like watching Mark get so much praise, but he couldn't care less right now. He just had to watch something. Anything to distract himself.

Just as Cassie went over the most recent victory of the team, a loud voice broke through it.

"Hi sweetie, how's your first day?" The voice was loud, but Ryan was sure it came from the other side of the canteen, where a freshman was calling with his mom. Why would he set the call on speaker?

Ryan turned back and ignored it, but soon another sound interrupted his video. The annoying 8-bit soundtrack of a mobile game echoed through his mind, the sound of clashing swords and yelling characters making it even more annoying. What stupid kid let his sound on extra loud when he was gaming during school break? A drop of sweat slid down his temple. Cheering rang in his ears as the kid cleared his level and it hurt. It was loud and awful and his head was swimming and throbbing and pulsing with every beat. 

Ryan shivered in his thick hoodie.

"No dad, you don't have to pick me up," another student said as he was calling from a few tables away.

Ryan huffed and kept staring at his phone, even though the he didn't register anything Cassis said in her video. He still kept trying.

Tap, tap, tap. In the row for the food, someone was texting their friends, every tap with their thumb banging against his skull.

Ryan looked to his left. A teacher was checking his news feed, sirens wailing,  people screaming, shouting - some video about the most recent monster attack. To his right, a girl was filming a video with her friends, laughing, playing music, typing a caption and then laughing again. They were so loud.

More videos, more games, more typing, more voices. Every second it got louder, every second it seemed to penetrate further and further into his mind.

Tap Tap Tap. 

Screaming.

Laughing.

Sirens.

Cheering.

Tap Tap Tap. 

Ryan clutched his phone tighter and shut his eyes, willing for the ever growing buzzing of the lamps and phones and laptops and screens to stop.

It all had to stoppleasestopit'stoomuchtooloudMAKEITSTOP-

The sizzling of something burning made his mind snap out of it. Ryan quickly looked down where his phone lay in his hands, broken and blackened, a small trail of smoke coming from it.

Oops. 

His eyes darted up to look if anyone had seen that - and to his relief no one did - so he quickly hid his phone under the table and let it slide into his bag. He would deal with that later.

Since he had no way of distracting himself anymore, and the sounds around him were now even making his vision grow wobbly as they pounded against his brain, Ryan knew he had to make a run for it. It was not like he had actually wanted to eat school food anyway, so no loss there.

"Hey guys?" He said, his left arm smoothly disappearing under the table. "I think I left my mech-link in the classroom. I'll go get it. See you later okay?"

Before the other two could answer, Ryan stood up and turned around, tucking his left arm in the pocket of his hoodie so they couldn't see his mech-link still nicely around his wrist. Briskly, he walked away, ignoring how his eyes couldn't focus or how he could throw up any second. He was fine.

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

Okay, maybe, just maybe, Ryan was not fine. After the small incident with his phone, he had accidentally also fried the teacher's smartwatch during PE when the teacher had blown his whistle right next to Ryan's ear out of nowhere. On top of that, he had also derailed someone's electronic car when he had been waiting on Mark outside of the school and the speakers had blasted the ringing bell right above his head. So you could say he was a little bit jumpy and a lot bit nauseous, and maybe not totally fine, but he would manage. He was Ryan Walker and Walkers didn't get sick.

Whatever. It didn’t matter if he finally admitted to himself that something was wrong, because as soon as school was out, he and Mark had headed straight to Mech X4 when they had gotten a monster alert.

Sick or not, Ryan was the only one who could stop it, so he had to power through. He could do this. Probably. Maybe.

As the gang made their way out of the awful elevator and to their stations, Ryan had to physically swallow down the urge to puke. That elevator hadn't helped in the slightest.

Ryan clicked the belt around his middle and the robot rose from its hiding spot. A rough cough came from him as he tried to move the robot into kneeling position, but he played it off as an awkward cough instead of the start of bile rising in his throat. He had to concentrate or otherwise he'd short-circuit the robot.

However, the miserable attempt didn't go unnoticed. 

"Hey man, you okay?" Spyder asked from behind him.

Ryan nodded, but regretted immediately as his head spun with the sudden motion.

"Yeah, of course, I'm fine," he said and readied his feet to jump. Spyder seemed to want to ask something else, but Ryan cut him off. 

"Mech, Execute!" he yelled and jumped away. Now was not the time to worry about himself. They had people to save.

"The monster just popped up next to the river at the other side of the city, what would it want there?" Harris asked out loud. He was furiously typing and checking the screens as he followed the beast's movements on his maps. "Wait, where is it – oh. Oh no."

Mark bent over the rails to look at the screens. "What? What is it dingus?" 

"The monster! It's heading straight for us! How is it so fast?!"

Ryan's head shot up when he noticed the beast flying straight at them at a rapid speed. "Guys, it's here!"

He barely had enough time to raise his arms in front of his head before the monster crashed right into them, hitting Mech X4 with such devastating force that Ryan was shot into the air, a couple of cables exploding behind him from the rough impact.

"Ryan are you okay?!" Mark yelled.

Ryan swallowed and lifted his head from the cold floor. "Yeah I'm good," he said as he carefully stood up again. The giant monster in front of them was already readying itself for the next attack.

Ryan rolled his shoulders and raised his fists in fighting position. He ignored the cold sweat building on his forehead. "Let's finish this quick. Spyder?"

"One plasma punch coming right up." Spyder slid his chair back from the desk and grabbed a hold of his weapon arm.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Ryan and Spyder simultaneously drew back their arms and swung them back as Mech X4 did the same with his glowing fist. The monster had been distracted, working up the power to hit again, but was instead swept off his feet when the fist hit full force. It fell to the ground with a large growl, but was still moving.

"Again!" Ryan yelled, already jumping up again to do it.

"Wait dude, it needs to recharge first, we need to buy some time!" Spyder frantically punched his buttons as he read from the screen. "If we do it now, it will be like a grandma punch!" He stopped mid-punching his buttons as he thought about something. "Wait. Nevermind, my grandma would punch this dude into tomorrow. Okay what about, if we used it right now it would be like if Harris punched it!"

Harris spun in his chair with a "not cool, son," before he got back to his scanning and getting up the shields. Mark and Ryan silently grinned. It was an accurate comparison.

"Okay, Harris, how are we with the shields?"

"Almost done and… now they're up!"

And just in time too, because as soon as Ryan turned back to the large window, he saw the monster getting back to his feet again. It let out a low growl as its wings spread out in warning.

"Get ready, he's coming back!"

The robot stepped back as Ryan raised his fists and braced for the next attack. The monster darted forward, its claws barely missing the chest of the robot as Ryan ducked out of the way. Then, it lifted itself on his back legs and rose into the sky, its wings harshly pushing away the wind. As the gang was too distracted by the strong winds that almost pushed the robot off his feet, they didn't see the tip of the monster's tail, heading straight for the head. It clashed against the shield and bounced back, while in the process it successfully pushed Ryan and the robot out of balance, both failing to the ground with a thud.

Ryan grunted his way through the pain as he got back up. They were almost done with this and then he could hide himself in his blankets for the rest of the day. Almost there, almost done.

The beast lashed out again as it clawed against the shield. It seemed to try to rip it open.

"The shields won't hold this for long! Spyder is the plasma punch ready?"

"Almost…" Spyder tapped impatiently against his desk, his eyes glued to his screen.

"Ryan watch out!" Mark yelled. Ryan lifted his arms in front of his head just as the monster ripped away the shield, the pixels giving way as the energy ran out. The monster flew forward and extended its claws as it headed for the head. Without the shields, all Ryan could do was hold his ground and cover himself, not even finding an opening to strike back.

"Spyder?!"

"Almost…"

The beast struck out with a right hook and got around Ryan's defenses, punching the robot hard against his head. Ryan whipped back from the impact and clutched his jaw. That hurt. His eyes watered and refused to focus anymore. A shiver ran down his spine, even if he himself felt like he was burning from the inside.

"Spyder?!"

"I'll say when it's ready!"

The monster hit again and again, sparks flying around the control center as Ryan bounced around in his harness. He was literally being beaten to a pulp and all his strength failed him. He was too weak. 

He was… not fine at all.

Mark was pacing across the deck, checking his screens and performing quick damage control. "Spyder, we can't take much more!"

Spyder spun in his chair and pulled back his attack handle. "It's ready!"

Immediately, Ryan stumbled to his feet and raised his fists. Please let this be the final attack, he wished desperately. His mind screamed at him to never move again and just give up, but he just had to do one more thing. Just this one thing. He could survive that. Ryan jumped into the air and brought his fist down with so much force that his knuckles burned. The hit landed, the robot's fist piercing straight through the monster's chest as it de-transformed into ooze and splashed to the ground. 

For a moment it was quiet, and then the team of Mech X4 burst out in cheers. They had finished it! Ryan smiled weakly as he sighed. His muscles burned, his vision swum, but they had done it. Finally. He wiped his sweat of his brow and roughly dropped to the floor, his legs giving out from under him. Now on his knees, he unbuckled his belt and let the harness fly up into its storage. When his hand returned from the motion however, something caught his eye. There was red on his hand. His eyes widened. There was blood on his hand. he was bleeding. That monster must have done more damage than he thought.

“Hey guys…” he said, his voice weak and barely audible. No one heard as the rest of the team congratulated each other with their victory. Ryan shivered.

“Guys…” was the final thing he said before he crashed down onto the floor, his vision and mind going blank as he did not even notice how all the lights and screens in the robot flickered and died out with him.

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

“...Ryan.”

“Ryan!”

“RYAN!”

Ryan jolted awake and immediately regretted it as he bend over and lost his diner from the day before. Someone patted him on the back as he retched, but his eyes were too blurry with tears to see who it was. Lights flickered around them.

The same hands placed him back down on the bed when he was done, wiping his forehead with a cold towel. Ryan sighed and closed his eyes again, already worn out from keeping his head upright.

“Get well soon…” Someone said and then he fell asleep once more.

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

The next time he woke, he didn’t get the urge to puke as soon as he opened his eyes. That was good news at least. A little dazed, he looked around the room. The Medbay. Of course.

“Guys! Guys, he’s awake!” Spyder’s voice yelled from too close next to him. In reflex, Ryan shut his eyes tight and groaned, his head not happy with the loud noise.

Two sets of footsteps entered the Medbay as the door slid open.

“Bro, are you okay?!” Ryan opened his eyes and saw Mark rushing towards him, sitting down next to the bed and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. On the older shoulder came Harris’ hand as his best friend shot a worried look at him.

“You scared us buddy,” he said and slightly squeezed his shoulder.

Ryan smiled weakly as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry about that…”

“Do you wanna tell us what happened?” Harris said, his attention already going to the screens next to the bed to check on Ryan’s vitals.

Ryan slowly opened his eyes. “Guess that monster was stronger than I thought.”

“Nah man, that was like a level 5 monster. It wasn’t even made of the red ooze, just the orange,” Spyder said with a shrug, “You normally beat down level 10 monsters with ease.”

“Where did you come up with this rating system?” Harris asked confused.

“It’s just what the collector’s cards say, I didn’t make it.”

“We have collector's cards?” Mark asked eagerly.

Harris shot them both an incredulous look before he turned his attention back to Ryan with an eye roll. 

“The scanners are picking up a high temperature, on top of signs of dehydration and not enough nutritions to give your body the energy to heal as fast. Ryan, did you eat at all yesterday?”

Ryan averted his eyes to stare at the scanner beside him. “I didn’t.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows. “Dude, why wouldn’t you eat anything and still go to fight? Are you stupid? You could have die–”

Ryan flinched as Harris stopped Mark with a gesture of his hand. He shook his head at the older one of the Walker brothers.

“Ryan,” he said, his tone far more calm than Mark’s, “why didn’t you just say you were sick? We could’ve found another way to defeat the monster.”

“No we wouldn’t!” Ryan snapped, his eyes widening as soon as the words left his mouth. he hadn't meant to say it in that tone. He sighed. “Look, just, we all know that we need the robot to defeat the monsters and that we can do nothing with the robot without my powers. I had to fight. It was the only option. And honestly?” Ryan slowly pushed himself in sitting position with his arms. “I was fine doing it. Just got a nasty wound, that’s all.”

Harris shook his head. “This wasn’t just a nasty wound Ryan. On top of your fever, you have several bruised ribs and a large wound to your head. You’re lucky it was mostly superficial or it could have done serious damage to your brain.”

Mark nodded and patted Ryan’s head while Ryan weakly tried to push him off. “You hear that Dingus? No more fighting when you have a fever alright?”

Ryan successfully swatted away Mark’s hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You have to promise.”

“I promise Mark, I promise.” Ryan smiled softly and looked at his team. “Thank you though.”

“For what?” Spyder asked.

“For caring about me like this,” Ryan said and lay back down. He was tired. “I really don’t know what I could’ve done without any of you guys…” His voice got quieter as his eyelids closed, but before he fell asleep he still heard the “awww’s” around him. Yeah, he would definitely get teased about this later. 

For now though, he meant it. 

He loved his team.

#mech x4 #ryan walker #mark walker #harris harris jr #spyder #whump #fan fiction #sick fic #happy ending #angst #fluff #best friends #season 1 #a digital fever

[lynelovespopculture]

The Chilling Adventures of Zelda Chapter 5-ROAD TO RECOVERY PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT!

CHAPTER 5-THE ROAD TO RECOVERY

WARNING: Talk of suicide

 Zelda couldn’t sleep. She sighed as she turned to look at the clock, 2:45 AM. Zelda looked upper still to Hilda 3 feet away, lightly snoring. Zelda removed her blankets and put her feet into her slippers. She exited the bedroom before conjuring a little ball of light to accompany her down the dark hallway. It had been 2 and a half weeks since Zelda’s husband had been separated from his insanity curse and things were not going all that well. The plan had been to free Faustus and then kill the curse and they had tried their best. Zelda had been literally in hell as Prudence tried to stab it and Hilda came from behind with a heavy rock. However, the stab wound made no difference and the rock that broke in 2. It fell to Zelda to tell her family that the curse bore the mark of Cain, which made it immortal. Somehow, the curse got away. So, Blackwood, (to help avoid confusion, the family decided to call the curse Blackwood and the real man Faustus,) was on the run again but not for long. A week later, when all the coven was in the church to hear mass, a bloody Dorcas stormed in to tearfully inform the others that Blackwood stormed the nearly empty academy. Dorcas tried hard but Blackwood did manage to reclaim the twins before disappearing again. Poor Dorcas blamed herself, but Zelda tried her best to comfort the distraught girl. Secretly, Zelda herself wanted to cry. How could they lose the twins yet again, after a mere 8 days! Late at night on all 7 nights, Zelda would take care not to be caught as she sneaked into where the twins slept. She would tuck them in if needed, kiss them and just stay with them for a while. Wondering how Judas and Letitia, she knew the girl twin was calling herself Judith, but she would always be Letitia to Zelda, could possibly be teenagers, when their 1st birthday was still weeks away.  Agatha, who was already pretty hostile, grew even more violent and wild when she learned that Blackwood came to get the twins but not her. Knowing that Agatha was a danger not only to herself but to the other students and teachers, Zelda made the decision to put Agatha in the dungeon, for now.

“I’m really sorry girls,” Zelda told the other weird sisters about her decision. “I wish there was another way, but I need to put the safety of the coven first, plus if Blackwood comes back for her, it won’t be so easy.”

“We  understand, Sister Zelda.”  Prudence soothed.

Dorcas nodded. “Agatha’s in good hands. We trust you, Mistress  Spellman.”

Zelda smiled, she needed to hear that right now.

Zelda briefly considered getting in touch with their mysterious new ally, Gloria Rose but the idea was quickly dismissed for 2 reasons. First, Zelda had no idea where Gloria lived or how to get in touch with her and had a funny feeling that Gloria wouldn’t pop up again it was time for Lilith’s next appointment. Also, was the fact that Gloria had betrayed Blackwood by giving him to the Spellmans so it was unlikely Blackwood would go back to her.

 The cold hallway gave Zelda a chill, sending her back to the present. Zelda went to the end of the hall and opened the linen closet, grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself.  In addition to worrying about Blackwood, the twins, and Agatha, Zelda was extremely concerned about Faustus, only in a completely different way. Agatha’s behavior was violent and dangerous. Faustus was a danger to no one but himself. Zelda was with her husband when he asked the dark lord to put him under house arrest and stripped him of all his magical powers. Boy, Faustus was not kidding. He asked for house arrest but it was more like room arrest. Shortly after returning from hell, Faustus went down to the morgue and stayed there for 2 and a half weeks. The morgue was the lowest, coldest room in the Spellman house. Zelda suspected if Faustus could go lower, he would. He also absolutely wouldn’t hear of going near the church or school.

“I am no longer a high priest,” he said when Sabrina addressed as Father  Blackwood, “nor should I be. I betrayed a sacred trust when I poisoned the entire coven.” His head turned as his eyes grew misty.

 Faustus also insisted on being punished.  He even asked Ambrose to chain him up. Zelda quickly overruled that request. There was no self-torture Faustus wouldn’t inflict on himself. One day, he found a rope that he used as a  whip. By the time someone found him, his back was red, bruised and bleeding. He wouldn’t allow anyone to heal him but a sneaky Zelda did it while he was asleep. Zelda feared she wouldn’t be attracted to a powerless Faustus but she was wrong. I love him, she thought. I truly love him, more and more each day. People made sure that trays of Hilda’s famous cooking was brought down to him at least 3 times a day,  but Faustus barely touched any of it. Zelda spent hours and hours with him, begging him to eat, if only for her. It kind of reminded Zelda when she and  Hilda would do a good cop/bad cop routine when a 4-year-old Sabrina refused to eat her peas. On the days that were really bad, Zelda would take her own dinner to the morgue and refused to eat until Faustus did. Of course, her pregnancy and the fact that the baby needed to be fed, was her ace in the hole and soon found Faustus cleaning his plate.

 Zelda dismissed the ball of light as she went down the spiral steps to the morgue. There was a  full moon tonight and its light filled the room. Zelda sighed as she saw Faustus was, yet again, not sleeping in the cot that had been prepared for him but instead, sitting against the wall, wearing only his pants, trying to keep himself from nodding off. Why? Because sleep deprivation was a form of torture too.

“It’s like he’s broken, Aunt Hilda.” Zelda overheard Ambrose said one morning. Zelda said nothing as she entered the room but she knew whatever was ‘broken’ in Faustus, could be fixed.

“What are you doing here?” Faustus asked when he finally noticed Zelda standing on the last stair. “It’s late. You should be asleep.”

“So should you.” She returned firmly.

He shook his head. “I don’t matter, you do.”

“Yes, you do.” You matter to me. Zelda thought silently to herself. Zelda wanted to tell Faustus she loved him a thousand times since he been back but it never seemed to be the right moment. Sighing, she went over to him. “Oh, Faustus! Your hands are like ice! Here.” Zelda took off the blanket that was wrapped around her and gave it to him before going to the cot to pick up the rest of the blankets.

“No, I  don’t want it. I deserve to be cold!” Faustus whined like a child while pushing away the blankets. However, the blankets were tucked tightly around him once Zelda spelled it.

Then she sat down and snuggled next to him. “You know, Faustus,” Zelda said  before they both fell asleep, “you can’t go on like this much longer.”

  Zelda was right, of course, and Faustus knew it. It was Wednesday morning when it was when Faustus sneaked into the kitchen before anyone had come down. It was a lot harder to switch 2 bottles without powers.

“Well, Father Blackwood! It’s good  to  see you above ground level.” Faustus turned sharply around, keeping the bottle behind his back as he saw Hilda smiling at him. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

“A little.” He lied. “And call me Faustus.”

“Well, good! Fancy a bit of breakfast? The others should be right down.”

“No, thank you, Hilda. I’m not hungry.” That was true. It took a few more lines of small talk before Faustus was able to leave the kitchen without letting Hilda see the bottle he switched.  Out in the hallway, Faustus recognized a book on a bench that as headmistress,  Zelda would use. He picked it up and tucked it under his arm. Turning, Faustus almost ran into Sabrina.

“Oh, Miss Spellman, um, Sabrina, I’m glad I bumped into you. I just wanted to say that I am very ashamed of my behavior towards you when we first meet. I know now that I was just taking my anger toward your father out  on you and  that’s not fair to you.”

Sabrina was stunned. “T-Thank you, Fath, Mr. Blackwood. Perhaps we can start fresh going forward.”

Faustus smiled at the girl. He was back downstairs when he heard footsteps on the steps and Ambrose then came into view with a cardboard box.

 “I got you what you asked for from the academy.”

“Thank you, Ambrose. You’re a fine young man. My daughter could do a lot worse.”

Ambrose turned bright red.  “We aren’t back together or anything, not yet, I mean, not officially.”

“Nevertheless, I approve. Whatever you and Prudence decide to do.”

“Someone say my name? My ears are burning.” Prudence smiled as she entered.

“Hey, Prudence! What are you doing here?” Asked a friendly Ambrose.

“I just thought I would come round,  check on things here. Good morning, Father.”

Faustus returned his daughter’s smile. “Good morning, Prudence.”

“Do you want some company back to school?” Prudence asked Ambrose.

“Sure.”

They both turned to go until Faustus called his daughter back. Prudence turned and Faustus went up to his daughter, caressed her cheek before kissing her and giving her a big hug.

Prudence smiled. “What was that for?”

Faustus smiled back. “I just wanted to kiss and hug you just for no special reason, just once.”

Prudence’s smile grew bigger and she hugged him back. “Thank you,  Father.” She whispered in his ear.

She and Ambrose left then, passing Zelda on the stairs.

“Hello, Sister Zelda.”

“Morning, Aunt Z.”

Zelda came downstairs in a rush. “I can’t believe I’m going to be late again.” Zelda seemed to be  searching for something.”

“Lost something?” Faustus asked.

“Yes,” Zelda answered. “I   need a certain book for my 1st  class and I can’t  find it anywhere.”

Faustus held up the book he took from the hall. “Is it this one?”

Zelda looked up and immediately lit up. “Yes!” She took it from him and turned to leave.

My beautiful Zelda, Faustus thought. But I need 1 more look, just  1 more.

“Zelda?”

“Yes?”   She turned to him again and he drunk her in before he shrugged. “I forgot my thought.”

  It was half an hour before Faustus knew he was alone in the house.  It was only then that Faustus opened the cardboard box that Ambrose brought him to check if it had all the contents in it. Yep, it was all there. Every stomach-churning item. With 1 look, Faustus could tell that the old-fashioned potbelly stove was not going to be big enough to burn all this stuff. So, Faustus went upstairs to find something bigger. The fireplace in the living room seemed big enough but Faustus simply couldn’t do it.  It was on this exact spot, almost a year ago, that he kissed Zelda. It was by far, the very best kiss of his entire existence and that was the night that Faustus and Zelda started the affair that led to their marriage, 6 months later. Faustus continued his search combing all the upstairs but didn’t find anything that he needed.  Faustus was on the stairs when a stranger came through the door.

“Zelda?”  The stranger called.  “Prudence?”

“There’s no one here but me,”  Faustus said. “I think they’re at the academy.”

The strange woman looked up at him. “Who are you?”

I could ask the same thing of you. Faustus thought but he actually said “I’m an old friend of the Spellmans. I’m staying here for a few  days.”

“Oh, okay, nice to meet you. I’m Mambo Marie and I was just looking for Zelda. She’s been late a lot lately. I think she’s been avoiding me since we broke up.”

Faustus couldn’t stop himself. “Broke up?! You mean, the 2 of you used to be together?” You have no right to feel jealous. Faustus silently scolded himself. You have no right to feel anything but guilt and shame.

“Yes, we went out for a couple of months last spring,” Marie answered and sighed. “I still miss her sometimes. Zelda Spellman is proving a hard woman to get over.”

Try impossible, Faustus thought. Outloud, he said, “Would you like to get back together with  Zelda?”

Marie half-smiled and shook her head. “Not going to happen, even if I wanted it to. Our last conversation made that perfectly clear.”

“Oh, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Oh no?”  Marie challenged. “The last time Zelda and I were alone together, I tried to get her to take…an abortion potion.” She looked down at her feet.

“You tried to get Zelda to kill ou, her baby?”

“I do regret it,” Marie said quickly. “I got hurt that Zelda didn’t tell me herself and I got mad when she told me that the father was that bastard who wants to kill the whole coven.”

Faustus closed his eyes at the word ‘bastard’ but he forced himself to go on. “Have you told Zelda that you’re sorry?”

Marie shrugged. “No, I mean, what would be the point? Zelda would never forgive me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Zelda can be very forgiving, perhaps too forgiving.”

“What?” asked Marie.

“Nothing,” Faustus dismissed. “You know if you act now you  could surprise Zelda with a romantic lunch.”

“You think that will work?”

“Can’t hurt.”

“Well, okay. I’ll try.” Marie smiled.

“Try giving her purple Primroses. They’s are Zelda’s favorites.”

“Thank you.”

“Bye,” Faustus waved until Marie closed the door. “Please take good care of all I love.”

 Half an hour later, Zelda walked into her office, studying some papers and looked up to see a set table and Mambo Marie was smiling and holding flowers. “Hello, ma Cherie.”

“Hi, what are you doing?”

“I know it’s been a while,” Marie started. “But I thought we could have lunch together so I could apologize for my behavior from last time.”

Zelda smiled. “I appreciate that.” Zelda closed the folder, tossed it on her desk and sat down on the chair Marie had pulled out for her. Then Marie sat down herself.

“I am sorry Zelda.” Said Marie. “I had no right to tell  you what to do with your  baby, it is your  body, after all.”

“Yes, Marie, it is,” Zelda said firmly.

“But that’s  not all.”  Marie put her hand on top of Zelda’s and smiled. “Ma Cherie, I think we should give us  another chance.” When Zelda said nothing, Marie said jokingly. “What? There’s not somebody else, is there?” Zelda looked at her guiltily.

“Unbelieve!” Marie snapped.

Before a fight could break out, Hilda ran into the office. “Zelda! Zelda!”

Zelda stood up. “Hilda, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I was just in my herbalism class, showing how nightshade is poison in liquid form but when I opened the bottle, it was only dirt. Then I remember that I saw Father Blackwood in  the kitchen, near my purse and since this is the 1st  day he’s alone in  the house-“

“Faustus is going to kill himself.” Zelda finished for her sister.

Marie was utterly confused. “Wait, isn’t a good thing if Blackwood dies?”

“Blackwood and Faustus are not the same people anymore.”

“What?!”

“Hilda, you explain it to her. I got to go save Faustus.”

But Marie wouldn’t be put off. “Damn it, Zelda Spellman, if you walk out on me now, we are over! I mean it. I’m going back to New Orleans and I won’t be coming back!”

Zelda wasn’t one easily threaten but more than that, Marie didn’t seem to care about a potential suicide. “Have a safe trip,” Zelda said before teleporting home.

  Meanwhile, back in the morgue of the Spellman house, Faustus sat in a corner on the floor.  He held a picture of Zelda that he swiped from the mantle. “Goodbye, my love.” Faustus lifted the bottle to his lips but before he could drink anything, the bottle flew out of his palm and smashed against the opposite wall.

“What the heaven are you doing, Faustus?!” Zelda demanded, coming more into the room and gently shoved him. “You cannot leave me! You cannot leave me! You cannot leave me!” Zelda turned, covering her eyes to catch the fresh tears.  “What are you thinking of?”

“I was thinking of how you and everyone else would be better off without me.”

Zelda shook her head and crossed her arms. “That is so not true! You are needed, Faustus.”

“By  who?”

“By your children, by me!” Zelda returned. Faustus shook his head so Zelda went forward and held Faustus’s head so he had no choice but to look at her. “You are loved,” Faustus shook his head. “Yes, you are!” Zelda insisted. “Prudence love you, the twins love you, our new baby will love you and I love you.”

Faustus’s eyes widened. “In all our years, the centuries  we’ve known each other, that’s the 1 thing you’re never said to me, never.”

 “Well, I do, truly I do. I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

“What  about your girlfriend, Mambo Marie?”

“How do you  know about her?” Zelda asked. “Was she here? What am I even talking about? Of course, she was! She would never know to bring me purple primroses all by herself.  I won’t lie to you, Faustus. I did have a crush on Marie when we first met but crushes fade and in reality, we don’t know each other and lately, all we do is fight. Even now, when Hilda told me what you had  planned, she wanted me to stay and finish lunch with her but all I could think of was you and how I couldn’t bear to lose you, again.” Faustus stayed silent and Zelda got an awful,  horrible idea. “Have I gotten this all wrong? I know it’s only been a few months for us but it’s been 15 years for you. Do you no longer love me, Faustus?”

Faustus put an arm around her waist and for a second it looked like he was going to kiss her but forced himself to stop. “I love you so much, Zelda. Other than my children, I’ve never loved anyone else,  not for a second. Yet the fact remains that I don’t deserve you.”

“Deserve me or not, you have me!” Zelda said before she kissed him. Faustus tried to resist   but Zelda held him close and soon their bodies melted into each other. It wasn’t long before Faustus’s fingers found the zipper on the side of Zelda’s skirt. She stepped out of it and rolled her hosiery and panties down as far as they would go without breaking the kiss. Faustus, meanwhile, unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall off him before he scooped her up and gently laid her on the exam table. Carefully, he lowered himself over her. He began to kiss her, slowly. Beginning with the very top of her head and worked his way down to her forehead,  one cheek then the other and on to those sweet, sweet lips. As Faustus moved to kiss her neck, his fingers went to work, unbuttoning her blouse. Zelda’s view was blurry as he caressed her neck but when he skillfully took off her bra and embraced her breasts, Zelda saw nothing at all. Her sight returned when she realized that his kisses had stopped completely. Zelda looked up to see Faustus staring down at her swollen belly. Oh no, Zelda thought, the insecurity creeping in. Faustus wasn’t attracted to a heavyset woman. It was just a fact Zelda knew. Personally, Zelda never had to worry about it, until now. Does he find me disgusting, is that why he stopped.

Yet Faustus’s eyes were filled with wonder as he touched the mount of flesh that housed their child. “That’s our baby in there.” He kissed all around her stomach. “How far along are you?”

“I’m currently 9 and a half months pregnant.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Faustus asked while he continued kissing. “It’s been 15 years for me but only a  few months for you, dearest. Hey! What is this?!”

“Oh, that’s just the wound from the gunshot.”

“What?! Who shot you?” Faustus demanded, instantly protective of his wife.

“It doesn’t matter.”  When  Zelda finally reached for his belt, Faustus grew nervous again.

“Zelda? Maybe we shouldn’t do  this.”

“Shh,” Zelda hushed. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

“Yes, but are you safe with me?” Faustus questioned.

Zelda only responded by kissing him and gently got on top of him. Now, it was Zelda’s turn to seduce. She kissed his chest, his hips and once she finally removed his pants, she went even lower. Faustus shivered with pleasure. When he couldn’t take it anymore so he rolled himself on top again and entered  Zelda. The couple was used to rough sex, but this wasn’t that. This was lovemaking, comforting and soothing lovemaking. The kind outlawed by the dark lord, but they didn’t follow him anymore. Zelda fell asleep in Faustus’s arms.

 When Zelda awoke, someone had covered her with a blanket, so she felt warm and safe. Without opening her eyes, Zelda reached out for Faustus but her hand couldn’t find him. Opening her eyes, Zelda discovered that he wasn’t beside her at all. With growing worry, Zelda prompted herself up on her elbow and scanned the room for her husband and found nothing.

“Faustus? Faustus!” Zelda cried out. Why did I fall asleep? She thought, panicking. Why did I leave him alone?

“I’m right here.” Came the calm reply. Zelda looked around and finally found him sitting on the floor, his back resting against the exam table. With a sigh of relief, Zelda wrapped the blanket around herself so she was at least semi-decent should anyone decide to come in before she climbed down to him.

“It seems that I’m always finding you on the floor.  We do have chairs, you know.” Zelda snuggled beside him but he made no move to embrace her nor did he push her away.

Finally, Faustus spoke. “We shouldn’t have done that.”        

“It’s okay,” Zelda soothed. “We don’t follow the dark lord anymore. Lovemaking should be fine.”

“I don’t give a flying fig about the dark lord!” Faustus cried, getting to his feet. “We shouldn’t have sex at all. Why can I never resist you, Zelda? Now it’s going to be next to impossible to go back.”

Zelda was confused. “I don’t understand, Faustus. Go back wh- OH!” Zelda instantly forgot what she was saying as her hand flew to her mid-section.

Faustus, too, briefly forgot whatever was troubling him as he went to his knees back to his wife. “Zelda? Zelda, what’s wrong?”

However, when  Zelda looked up,  she was smiling. “The baby,” she explained. “It just kicked.”

An odd expression came across Faustus’s face, one that was half horror, half awe. “Really?”

“Yes!” Zelda took Faustus’s hand and placed it on her stomach. “There,” she said after a moment. “Did you feel that?”

Faustus nodded. “Yes.” A tear fell from his eye as he stood, his head in his hands as he walked away. “This can’t be happening! Not now!” Faustus turned back to Zelda. “We’re finally married. You’re pregnant with my child. It’s all I ever wanted and I have to go back to him!”

Zelda was still completely lost. “Him? Him who?”

“My other half, of course,” Faustus answered. “I can’t thank you enough for…my little break, dearest but we both know that it could affect space and time if I’m not made whole soon. I just, I just can’t believe Edward was right. I’m, I’m just like my father.”

The mention of her brother made Zelda angry. “You are nothing like your father!”

“Oh no?”  Faustus challenged. “’ You forget yourself, my dear. A wife walks behind  her husband.’ I said that to you not even an hour after we were married. I cannot tell you how many times my father said exactly those words to my mother and my stepmother. I cringed every single time I heard it. I cringed twice as hard when those very words came out my own mouth. That moment I wanted to kick my own ass!”

“But Faustus, that was the curse  talking,  not you.” Zelda reminded him. 

“Curse? What curse?!”

Zelda’s eyes widened and put her hand over her mouth as the realization dawned on her.  “You don’t know, do you? Faustus do you what an insaniam maledictum spell is?”

Faustus didn’t need to think about it. “An insanity curse?  What’s that got to do with me?”

Everything! Zelda wanted to yell but instead, she said, “It’s getting cold. Let’s get dressed, there’s much to talk about.”

So the couple got dressed and sat side by side on Faustus’s cot.  That’s when Zelda told him everything. How Lucifer asked her to be Lilith’s midwife, how her payment was learning how Edward’s cursed their marriage, how she found his journals, the memory spell, how she confronted Edward and finally how she divided him from the curse.

Faustus, understandingly, was shocked for several moments before he spoke. “Do you mean even 16 years after his death, Edward was still trying to keep us apart?”

Zelda frowned but nodded.

“Why that little control freak! How dare he-“ Faustus stopped himself as he hung his head and his shoulders began to shake with heavy sobs. “For 15 long years, I  heard my voice use words I didn’t want to say and saw my body do things I didn’t want to do! I thought it  was my dark side was taking over completely but I never heard of such a thing!”

A  shiver ran down Zelda’s spine.  “You knew?” She whispered. “You knew but you couldn’t stop it.”

“Mostly. I  was only able to overpower his will when he tried to hit the twins and when he tried to murder you.”

“Faustus, from what I’m hearing,  you  were trapped in a curse that works like a cargarli spell.”

Faustus froze before he stood up and walked a few feet to distance himself from his wife.  “Oh heaven, the cargarli spell! How could I do that to you? I’m so, so sorry Zelda!”

She went to him. “It’s alright, Faustus. You were not responsible for anything you did under the curse. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

“What? Zelda, what on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“I remember thinking  after our wedding that it couldn’t be you but I let my anger and hurt cloud  my judgment.” She put her arms around his neck. “Plus, I’m sorry it took  me so long to realize that I love you.”

Faustus looked pained. “Zelda, I love you so much but we both know you don’t love me.”

Zelda felt like she had been punched in the gut. “But I do love you, Faustus, truly I do.”

He sighed. “Zelda, you yourself told me that you realized your feeling after reading my journals and performed the memory spell, I think those feelings are just pity.”

“No, Faustus, you’re wrong. Yes, I felt bad for the boy you were but I also realized how much I missed you. I lost count of how many times I want to inferred during the memory spell. I’m in love with you, Faustus and if takes me another 300 years to convince you of that, so  be it!”  She could see that he wasn’t convinced so she tried again. “You were right all along, Faustus, we do belong together. Think of all we’ve through already. Edward denies us permission to marry so you vow never take a wife. Edward tricks you into marriage with Constance,  but it doesn’t kill our feelings for each other or even slow them down. We finally marry and we defeat this insanity curse.  I’ve only forgotten my berries once in my life, barely a month after our marriage and that’s the very night I conceive our child. It all means something Faustus.”

He bit his lip. “Are you sure the curse is gone? I mean, just  because it’s not  in my body anymore doesn’t  mean it didn’t creep into other things.”

“Like what?”

Faustus sighed. “Like the baby. You just said you conceived 1 month after our marriage.  When the curse was on me. So did you even think the baby was fathered by the curse, not by me?”

“I did think of that, actually,” Zelda said. “Then I thought about how before every time we made love as husband and wife, your eyes would grow soft or you would get a nosebleed. I  didn’t know it then but it was you breaking through. Even if you knew it or not, you never let the curse touch me that way and when I realized that, I loved you even more. Secondly, it’s a curse.  We have to stop thinking of it as a real person. It may be wearing your skin and speak with your  voice but it’s only a spell, a parasite we will be well rid of.”

Faustus lowered his eyes. “How can you be so sure that I’m not the curse? You told me yourself that the light was too bright to see when we separated. What if you brought home  the  wrong Blackwood?”

Zelda shook her head. “You’re the real Faustus. I know it  and I can prove it!” Zelda poked around in some drawers and took out something, held it in her hand and went back to Faustus. “One of the things the curse wanted most is to end the Spellman bloodline. We both know I have Spellman blood. So if you are the curse,” Zelda pressed the knife into his hand and even guided his hand up to her throat. “Kill me.”

They silently eyed each other as Zelda let go of the knife and Faustus did nothing either way. Unafraid, Zelda leaned slightly, just enough so the knife bit into her skin and produced a single drop of blood. Faustus’s lip quivered before he threw down the knife and hugged Zelda to him with all his might.

Zelda kissed his cheek before whispering,  “See, darling? You’re not the curse or your father or Edward. You’re you. Faustus. My husband, the father of my unborn baby and the man I love.” Her comments only made him squeezed her tighter.

  Zelda was still holding Faustus when she looked up and saw a cardboard box. It felt oddly out of place because Zelda knew they didn’t keep deliveries down here. She was right; for this was the box Ambrose brought Faustus this morning.

“What  is that?” Zelda asked. Faustus turned, saw it  and moaned.

Faustus, you idiot! He thought. He saw Zelda go over to it but he held her back before she could open it. “No, no, no! I’m sorry Zelda, I meant to burn the contents of that  box before..” Faustus’s voice died out.

“Well, what’s in it?”

Faustus sighed and hung his head. “All your things from when you were Lady  Blackwood. As I said, I meant to burn everything before you got home but then Mambo Marie showed up and I got sidetracked and forgot. You were never supposed to see them again.”

Zelda was touched. Faustus felt so much shame and guilt that he refused to leave the lowest point of the house for weeks and would have killed himself if Zelda hadn’t stopped him. Yet,  somehow, he still had the presence of mind to want to destroy what he knew had been harmful to her. “Well, I’m here now so how about we burn these things together?” She suggested.

Faustus shook his head sadly. “Can’t. I looked all around the house but the only fireplace large  to do this in the living room.”

“So? Let’s go.”

“No!” He objected. “I don’t want to ruin the memory of where we had the most perfect kiss of my life.”

Zelda flashed him a smile. “Faustus, my darling, we have a million kisses ahead of us, possibly in every room in this house.” To prove her point, Zelda kissed him right there.

So, with Faustus carrying the box, they made their way to the living room. The box mainly contained those big, bright, colorful  50’s style dresses Zelda wore as Lady Blackwood. Faustus would just roll them up and toss them into the fire but he couldn’t help but notice that Zelda liked to rip up the dresses before feeding them to the fire. Then, at the very bottom of the box, they found it. The music box.

“I’ll take care of it,” Faustus offered.

“No, I’m okay.” Zelda reached into the box and put the music box on the coffee table and checked the drawers for a picture of herself, just in case. Then Zelda looked up at her husband. “Play it.”

Faustus’s eyes bugged out. “What?! No! I don’t want to!”

“Darling, it’s alright. I asked you to. Play the music.”

Unsure and with a deep sigh,  Faustus winded up the music box. The tune started to play and then Zelda smashed it all to bits with a poker iron. Faustus smiled and joined it with another poker. Then he helped pick up the wooden pieces and threw them into the fire before gathering his wife into his arms. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You look so much better in black anyway.”

“You weren’t  thinking anything, the  curse was.” Zelda reminded him.

  Despite now knowing about the curse, Faustus still had massive feelings of guilt and shame. He still refused to live anywhere but the morgue, but something had changed. For the next 11 nights, Zelda, without fail, would slip into the cot next to Faustus and stay with him all night. On  9 of those 11 nights, they made love.  Faustus had almost forgotten how Zelda’s sexual drive matched so perfectly with his own. On 7 of the nights, Faustus would awaken in a cold swear frightened by harsh nightmares and cruel memories. Sometimes, it took all of Zelda’s soft words and her soft hands to soothed and lull him back to sleep. Despite his promise to her never to try to commit suicide again, Zelda made sure there was at least 1 other person in the house with Faustus at all times since Zelda’s duties during the day were many and growing as this season would be her 1st feast of feast as high priestess. To curb his depression, the other Spellmans tried to interact with him more. Ambrose bought down piles and piles of books and remembered how much he liked to talk about magic and life with the older, more experienced warlock. Sabrina and Faustus struck a deal, to forget their ugly past and try to start anew.  Hilda often went to Faustus for help with schoolwork corrections and advice for the 1st time teacher from the man who had done it for centuries.

 On the 12th night, Zelda came downstairs with a piece of pumpkin pie. “Faustus, I  bought you something.”

Her husband looked up from the book he was reading. “It’s nearly 10,  you’re almost never this late.”

“Oh, Faustus. You see what happens when you live in a morgue. The days’ blends into each other. Today  was Feast of Feast.”

“Yes, and as if it wasn’t chaotic enough with  this being my 1st as high priestess, Hilda was chosen  as queen during the lottery.”

“Zelda, I’m so  sorry.” Faustus frowned.

However, Zelda smiled. “Don’t be, Hilda’s fine.”

“But you just said your sister was the queen of the  feast.”

Zelda nodded.   “I did, but as high priestess you know, it’s my right to change the rules which I did. Now the queen and the handmaiden prepares the meal rather than be the meal.  Then the coven sups together before hearing mass in Freyda’s name. I remember when the elders of the coven  would become enraged when Edward would outlaw things and replace it  with nothing.”

“So do I.  That’s why I put most of them back.”

“But with  my slight  changes, I made most of the coven happy plus we get to enjoy  the queen’s famous pie.” She handed him the pie and sat down next to him. “Blessed feast.”

Faustus kissed her. “Blessed feast, dearest.”

 “Father Blackwood,  I need a favor.”

“Hilda, if I have told you once if I have told you a 100  times, I’m no longer a high priest, it’s okay for you to call me Faustus.”

It was the following afternoon and Hilda rushed into the morgue.

“Okay, well, Fath-um, Faustus, I find myself in a bit of a jam. Zelda just called and with Mambo Marie leaving us in the lurch, there’s nobody to teach the next class but me. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem but today is Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year for mortals and I already promised Dr. C that I  would help at the bookshop.”

Faustus frowned. “Normally, I would love to help you out but Zelda knows I just can’t look at those students after what  I’ve done. Zelda talks about telling them the truth about  me being here at one point and then try to slowly ease me  back into the coven but I  just don’t see it happening.”

Hilda bit her lip. “I know you don’t want to be seen at the academy and totally understand why. So, um, I was actually asking you if you might go lend Dr. C a hand.”

Faustus’s jaw hit the floor. “Go work at a mortal bookstore, me?  Certainly not! I wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m under house arrest.”

“Are you?” Questioned Hilda. “Zelda had told me about you trying your powers to make sure they’re gone but you’ve been here nearly a month now  and you’ve rarely left this room, let alone this house. Plus you made that deal with the dark lord that no one serves anymore. It may not be valid. Please, just try, I’m desperate!”

“How?”

Hilda thought for a moment. “Well, when Ambrose was housebound, he couldn’t go past the driveway. We could try that.”

So, they did and  Faustus crossed the Spellman driveway and into the public street with ease.

“I don’t get it,” Faustus said, puzzled. “Why would the dark lord take my power but let me roam free?”

“Maybe he forgot,” Hilda offered. “Anyway, I’ll go call Dr. C and tell him you’re on your way!” She was gone before Faustus could remind her that he hadn’t officially agreed to do anything.

 The walk into town took 20 minutes. Despite everything, even Faustus had to admit that the fresh air and the change of scenery did him a  world of good. What did Hilda say? That it was the biggest shopping day of the year for mortals? Boy, she wasn’t kidding! From the moment he arrived, the place was packed! Apparently, it was a teenage hangout as well as a bookstore. Somehow, Faustus made his way to the check-out counter where Dr. C, who was expecting him, greeted him and gave him a vampire cape to wear. Despite the cape, despite the mortals,  Faustus actually had a pleasant afternoon. It was a very nice afternoon.  It was nice to be busy and have something to do other than just dwell on his own guilt and sadness. Secondly,  Faustus learned the ropes of working retail fairly quickly. Thirdly and perhaps most surprisingly of all, despite the fact that they only met that day, Dr. C and Faustus had an almost instant connection. They say that opposites attract in love but maybe it’s true in friendship as well. The shop was so busy that it was 6:30 that evening before the men could stop to eat.

“Thank you,” Faustus said as he reached for the mug of coffee.

Dr. C smiled. “I’m delighted to meet you,  Faustus. I have heard a lot about you.”

“Not all good, I bet,” Faustus muttered.

Dr. C ignored that comment. “I have a question for you, actually. When Hilda’s brother married a mortal, they got major hassle but it wasn’t a big deal when  Hilda and I got engaged. I’m not complaining or anything just wondering why.”

Faustus raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you an incubus? That’s what Zelda told me.”

“Yeah. I mean, I am now but I  was born mortal. The demon stuff didn’t happen until college.”

“Doesn’t matter. The demon is a part of you and abled you to marry a full-blooded witch, like Hilda. Consider it a marriage loophole.”

Both men heard the chime of the bell above the door which meant more customers.

Dr. C  stood up. “I’ll go. Can you clean up?”

Faustus nodded and  cleaned up until he heard “Come on, old man, give us the money!” Faustus sneaked up to the storefront to see that Dr. C was being robbed at gunpoint.

Damn! Faustus didn’t know what to do. He no longer had magic to save him so  Faustus looked around and smiled.

Meanwhile, Dr. C was in trouble. “Let’s go, old man!” Ordered Punk #1. “This money  better be more real than your attempt to look like a vampire.”

Punks #2 & 3 laughed. “Good one, man,” Punk #2 said. “A fake vampire.”

“You’re right, he is a fake vampire,” Faustus came from the backroom, his hands behind his back. “Unluckily for  you 3, I am a real warlock.”

Punk #3 was in awe. “Cool! So you conquer lands and stuff?”

Faustus sighed.  “No, you idiots, not a warlord. A warlock, a male witch.”

“Right,” sneered Punk #1. “He’s a vampire and now you’re a witch. So,  what are you going to do? Hocus pocus us to death?”

“No. That term is utterly useless. Besides, everyone knows that the really strong spells are in Latin. Like”  Faustus shrugged and spoke some Latin words.

The punks sloppily repeated the words  back then asked, “What does that mean?”

“A  big, honking baseball bat!” Then, and only then did Faustus produce the Louisville slugger from behind his back. He chased the punks around the shop and finally,  out the door. He was so pumped up that he barely heard the gunshot. A moment later, Faustus came back in, the bat resting on his shoulder and he was laughing. “Well, we showed them didn’t we?” Silence. “Dr. C?”

 Zelda and Hilda ran into the ER entrance of the hospital.

“My fiancée has been shot! Where is he?” Hilda demanded of the woman at the nurse’s station. They got the room number and rushed to where Dr. C was with a doctor.

Hilda rushed to him with a hug and kiss. “Oh, love, are you okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor answered, “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“So, what happened?” Zelda asked, in a tone calmer than her sister.

“I was robbed,” Dr. C explained, “ladies, Faustus was amazing. He distracted the robbers long enough to activate the silent alarm, he chased them off with a bat. One must have gotten scared for the gun went off and glazed my shoulder. When I came back around, I was in the ambulance and Faustus was right there with me. The paramedic told me that Faustus applied pressure to the bleeding and saved my life.”

Hilda closed her eyes and sighed. “Thank Hecate, he was there.”

“Where’s my husband now?” asked Zelda.

“I don’t know.  He was here a second ago.”

In the next room, Faustus looked up at the silvery half-moon. “Hecate, mother, let him be alright. For  he feels one-tenth for Hilda what I feel for Zelda, they’ll be very happy together.”

“You’re praying to Hecate.” Faustus barely saw Zelda in the doorway before his wife was in his arms and kissing him deeply. “What was that for?”

“Are  you kidding?” She replied. “You saved Dr. Cereberus.”

“Saved him? I got him  shot.”

“Don’t be daft,” Zelda dismissed. “You saved him and without having magic, you were in just as much in danger as he was but you didn’t even think of that, did you? That’s what made you a hero tonight.”

“I don’t want to be a hero! I want to be perfect! For only a perfect man could ever be worthy of you.”

She kissed him again. “I love you so much, Faustus even if you are talking nonsense.”

 Hilda stayed overnight at the hospital so Zelda and Faustus took a cab home. Faustus immediately headed for the morgue but Zelda stopped him.

“No, I have a surprise for you and it’s upstairs.” 

So they went upstairs with Zelda explaining she had already planned to give him the surprise tonight but now he truly earned it. Zelda opened a door that led to a cozy bedroom with a double bed and an attached bathroom suite.

Zelda smiled. “Welcome home.”

“This is a whole new room. When did you do this?”

“I started the night after we first made love.”

His eyes bugged out. “You made a whole new bedroom and bathroom in just 11 days?!”

“Darling, some of us still have our magic.”

“Dearest, this is superb.  But I can’t stay here. I don’t deserve  such comfort.”

“Then, do it for me,” Zelda suggested. “I refuse to sleep apart from my husband but my back is crying out in protest at the thought of another night on that cot. Speaking of my increasingly pregnant body, I need to get off my feet. Care to help  me christen our new bed?”  It was only then that Faustus returned her smile.

Hours later, after they had made love and fallen asleep in each other’s arms, Faustus awoke in a cold sweat and a sharp intake of breath. “Damn these nightmares! Will they ever go away.”

“It’s alright, my love. There is no quick fix spell for trauma and you’ve been living with that  curse for some time now.”  Zelda snuggled closer and laced her fingers with his. “The good news is that we have all the time in the world.”

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caoz #ch 5 #part 4 my way #fanfic #spellwood #zelda spellman #faustus blackwood #hilda spellman #dr. cerberus #sabrina spellman #ambrose spellman #prudence night