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#and I’m doubly in love with the way she barely stops smiling from the moment Brainy returns
oetravia · 2 years
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Every Nia Nal Outfit Ever: 6x20 [3/4]
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hotchseyebrows · 3 years
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thoughtfulness in little things
a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic
a/n: can you believe that is my first ever full length morcia fic? me? resident morcia nut? wow. what a world. anyway!! i hope yall like this (and if you noticed it was already on ao3 earlier today shhh this is a scheduled tumblr post im Sleeping rn) and hopefully i dont take 4 months in between posting fics again, but i make no promises!!! my brain is Evil
thank you @blkantigone for being my beta and thank you @derekmorqan for letting me barf 1k of this in our dms a while back, i love you both sm
they do kiss a fair bit in this (it is, in fact, a first kiss fic) and its a little steamy, but by no means explicit and is rated teens and up on ao3 :)
read it here on ao3!!
Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”
He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?”
-
Everything changes during a late night in Penelope's batcave. But really, nothing changes at all.
word count: 3000
Friday nights without a case are a rare treasure for SSA Hotchner’s highly sought after team of profilers. Normally, Derek and Penelope would be taking advantage of the freedom by dancing all night, but sometimes the universe has other plans. 
Penelope used this week’s case-free time to put the finishing touches on an antivirus and security software of her own creation. The personal information of her beloved BAU babies was a hot commodity well worth the additional protection, and she’s always looking for a reason to fiddle with Quantico’s servers. It ended up being a whole production, taking the entire afternoon and then some. Apparently, she still doesn’t have all of the permissions required to make certain adjustments which means that she’s fiddling and bending her way into all of the things she needs to do. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole damn thing crashed around 4:00. She managed not to pull her hair out, but it was a close thing and it set her back at least an extra hour.
Derek stops by a little after 5, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I can hear the bottles of DC’s finest vodka and Hennessy calling our names, are you almost ready to leave for the day?” He pauses in the door, taking in her furious typing and furrowed brow. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the matter? You’ve got Hotch’s eyebrows.”
She throws her arms up. “The entirety of the FBI and also the world is getting on my nerves!” He walks over to her, leaning on the side of her chair and turning her away from her monitor. His hands gently grab both of hers and he rubs a soothing circle with one of his thumbs. 
“Explain, baby girl.” 
She does, eventually just ranting and raving about how annoying it is to still be put in metaphorical handcuffs by the FBI as if she can’t just do what she wants anyway. “I’m not even breaking any rules, technically, they’re just making things annoying and long winded.” She sighs, moving her hands to interlock their fingers. “But now that it’s started, it would be doubly annoying to stop it and come back later. So I’m stuck here until it’s done, which might take a while.”
He nods, thinking. Then he straightens up, grabs the extra rolling chair, and sits down. 
Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”
He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?” She blushes, turning away to hide it on instinct. 
“You cheeseball.” She spins around to lightly push on his arm. He just smiles. 
They sit together for 20 minutes in relative silence as she continues her work. It’s a comfortable silence; his occasional humming soothes her rising annoyance at how needlessly long this is taking. She can hear him playing with one of the fidget toys she keeps on her desk behind him. When she gets to another point of sitting and waiting, she turns towards him and asks him about his day. He tells her about how Prentiss helped him get Reid back for a prank by distracting him in the break room while he switched out the keyboard of Reid’s computer with an identical one with a grass garden planted inside. “It’s a long con for sure, but I’m hoping it sprouts this weekend.”
She laughs. “How long did it take you to set this up, dumpling?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to see his slightly sheepish but proud look about his dedication to his prank war. Her computer beeps at her, and she spins back around to begin working again.
He rolls closer, avoiding her question and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You getting hungry yet?”
She relaxes, leaning against him. As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “Yes, I’d say so.”
He leans over and moves a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay baby girl, I’ll go grab us food and be right back.” She nods, lifting her cheek on instinct to meet the kiss she knows is coming. He stands and sure enough, leans down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be quick. Be good.”
“How can I do anything else if you’re not here?” She bats her eyes up at him. 
He grins. “Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something.” He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her shiver.
She watches him leave, catching the kiss he blows at her from the door. Turning back to focus on her work, it feels like she blinks and he’s back. A glance at the clock tells her it’s been over a half hour. He puts the bag of food onto the table before coming to pull her away from the computer. 
“One minute, I promise, I’m so close to just letting this thing run for a little.” He twirls her hair around his fingers before dropping his hands onto her shoulders, rubbing away the tension. A minute and a half later, she leans back in her chair with a sigh. She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at her. 
"Come eat, baby girl. Don't think you're getting out of eating my hard won dinner." He moves to the table and pulls out her chair. She follows and sits.
"Hard won — mon cher, you didn't tackle a wild animal and lug it home to our log cabin in the woods, you drove your car 20 minutes."
He kisses her temple, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Yeah, but I would lug home whatever you needed anytime, so the sentiment is the same."
She smiles and knocks their feet together under the table lightly. He moves his chair, so they are sitting right next to each other on the same side of the table. The heat from his arm is palpable.
Derek grabs a box from the bag and splits the vegan pad thai within onto two paper plates. He opens the box of spring rolls and places it in between them while she places napkins in front of them both. He pops the cap off of her bottle of lemonade without her asking, and sets that in front of her too. “Thank you, handsome.” He smiles in response. They start eating and the comfortable silence returns. 
She talks him through what she still needs to do to fix everything in between bites, even though she knows he doesn't really understand her technobabble. But Penelope can feel his eyes on her, and without looking, she somehow knows that something has shifted in the air around them.
"What?" she asks, turning her attention away from gesturing at her computer with the chopsticks. "Do I have something on my face?"
He chuckles. "Actually, yes, c'mere." He brushes away a stray spot of sauce on the corner of her lips with a gentle swipe of his thumb. The rest of his hand stills on her cheek. She shivers. She can see him notice it, his attention focusing in on her. Penelope's blood is thundering in her ears as he glances in between her lips and her eyes.
She leans purposefully into his hand. His thumb brushes over her lips again and her mouth falls open a little. 
"Penelope, I-" he cuts himself off with a hard swallow. "Penelope." His eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes quickly again.
She can only blink at him for a moment. "Yes, Derek?"
"I don't kn- um. Can I-" She's never seen him flustered and unsure like this. But they've never been out of sync before and they aren't about to start now, so she nods, bringing up a hand to rest on his. A smile grows on his face before he starts to lean in. His hand slides along her cheek to more firmly grip her face- it makes her gasp.
He pauses, thinking something is wrong. "Penelope, are y-" Her heart swells at how careful he is to take care of her always, and she meets him in the middle, pressing their lips together in a soft, purposeful kiss.
For a moment, all is still. The world boils down to just the place where their lips are touching. Their lips barely brush against one another, but already Penelope feels light headed. Derek separates their lips for a moment before kissing her again, a firmer touch this time. She sucks in a breath through her nose. His lips are incredibly kind- that’s the only word for it. He doesn’t seem to know the word “take” right now because all she can feel from him is “give.” As he presses into the kiss and gently cups the side of her face, her brain wildly spins through thoughts about how of course he’s like this even when kissing her and how good he smells and how she can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner.
He draws her closer against him, pressing into the kiss more insistently before bringing his other hand up to her face and holding her. His fingers move to cup the sides of her neck and she tilts her head to the left a touch, letting her mouth fall open in a sigh. He makes a soft noise before tentatively sliding their tongues together. A full body shiver runs down her spine and through her limbs. Another small noise falls from the back of his throat. Her stomach swoops like they've just dropped down the side of a huge arch in a roller coaster. She places both hands on his chest, pressing forward. He moves with her, chair squeaking underneath him as he presses closer, one arm snaking around her back. Penelope’s heart pounds even louder. His tongue is gentle even in its insistence as their kiss turns slightly desperate. 
It feels like someone has lit a fire underneath Penelope’s chair, warmth washing over her whole body and radiating out from everywhere they touch. One of his hands tangles into her hair as he gently tilts her head back. If she wasn’t sitting her knees would have buckled so long ago, but now she would absolutely be on the floor. It’s no surprise that Derek Morgan is an incredible kisser, but knowing something and knowing something is so different. 
He pulls back, letting their foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, tingles radiating from everywhere his fingers are tenderly holding her face. She tightens her grip on his shirt. He kisses the tip of her nose. "You still with me, baby girl?"
She nods, breathless. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Hi." It's the first thing she thinks to say. 
He laughs. "Hey you."
She has so many questions- how long have you wanted to do that, can we do that again right now, can we do so much more right now, right here- but before she can ask any of them, her computer beeps loudly. "Oh!" She jumps at the sudden noise. He drops his hands and leans back, looking far too much like the cat who got the cream. "I should- right, I should deal with that," she says, standing on shaky legs. Heels were never so precarious. Of course, there is no hiding from a profiler.
He grins up at her. "Need some assistance?" His eyes are shining like he's hiding a joke. She scrunches her nose at him, biting back a smile.
"Oh, hush you. I’m perfectly capable of walking 3 feet, thank you very much." Her tenacity is a little undercut from the way her hands are trembling a little as she smooths her skirt, but still. The point remains.
He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright baby girl, go on then."
She walks over to her computer and stays standing to fiddle with the wires behind it before bending over at the keyboard and reading the report on the screen. "It shouldn't be much longer now, it just needs to run the last new anti-virus- what?" He's leaning back in his seat and staring at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.
"What, Mama?" But he knows what, clearly evident from the way he is trying to school his expression into something innocent.
She blushes. "Derek Morgan, I don't know what I'm going to do if you keep looking at me like that."
"Oh, I don't know. I might have some ideas."
She sucks in a sharp inhale through her nose. Playing nonchalant, she turns back to her computer. "Well, I might have to hear your ideas out."
"Yeah?" 
She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he's grinning.
"Yeah." she says, not trusting what will come out of her mouth if she elaborates (probably something along the lines of “I’d listen to all your ideas, do your ideas include any semblance of forever, if you keep grinning like that I'm gonna lock the door and do something reckless”).
They sit in relative silence, just the sounds of her typing filling the room. When she finishes, she spins her chair around. "Hi," she says again.
"Hi baby," he responds.
Her fingers twist and curl the hem of her skirt. "So, uh, well, that's gonna take at least another 30 minutes to finish running."
He raises one eyebrow. "30 minutes, huh?" 
She nods. "Might be a good time for some of those ideas." 
He stands and walks across the room to her. She takes his offered hand and stands as well. They stay there, inches apart and holding hands as the charged atmosphere around them seems to crackle. In the same breath, they lean in to kiss again. Both of her arms wrap around his neck as he tucks his around her waist. He pulls her against him, fully pressed together as the soft kiss deepens into something heated and desperate.
He bites her bottom lip gently before the kiss turns open mouthed and slick. She arches against him as they slide into a slow rhythm. She feels fluttery, like his arms are the only anchor point in the whole world and if he let her go, she’d simply float away. He tastes like lemonade, sweet and alive. She hums as he tracks his hands in a slow circle at the base of her spine. Her knees really do buckle a little as he attempts to tug her closer, but he holds her steady. She rests a hand on his cheek and grounds herself by using the other to grip the back of his neck. She’s utterly swallowed up by him, his arms and his mouth and just him surrounding her in their own little cocoon. He separates their mouths to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hands flattening on her back. He places a line of long kisses down to the crook of her neck. She lets out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to give him more room. He sinks his teeth into the same spot lightly, and she shudders. 
"Derek," she whispers. She can feel his smile against his skin as he kisses the same place again.
They slow to a stop, tucked against each other. He rests his face against her neck and mumbles something against her skin. "Hmm honey?" she says, hand rubbing a circle on the nape of his neck.
"I got us that Talenti ice cream you like," he says, only moving enough to be heard. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, and the color changing spoons are still in the break room.”
"Oh Der, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do all of that." Her heart skips a beat. 
He shrugs, kissing the side of her neck. "I wanted to."
She is half tempted to haul him in for another kiss, but as if on cue, her stomach grumbles. He picks his head up and smiles at her. "Come eat now," he says before giving her another quick peck. 
She lets him pull her to the table, but before they sit, she pulls him in again. He chuckles into the kiss.  "Eat, you menace." He mumbles against her lips. Pulling back, he plants a kiss on the apple of her cheek as he guides her into her seat.
She bites a retort about how she was trying to but he sees it on her face anyway. 
"Later, baby girl. Dinner first."
“Then dessert?” She tilts her head and gives him a flirty smile. 
He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “All the dessert you want, Penelope.”
Much the same as before, they eat in comfortable silence. Except this time he rests a hand on her thigh, and traces a slow lazy circle with his thumb. The conversation picks back up and turns to unrelated things. Derek muses about possible retaliations from Spencer once he notices his new desk plants as he casually offers her a bite from his plate. She takes it, humming.
Something Penelope did not realize had lost its footing resettles in her chest. Nothing is different, not in any way that would scare her or be a loss. They are just the same as they've always been, but also more. (Though she'd be hard pressed to think of a time when this wasn't the way they were. Maybe things are just being unveiled, not changed.) 
When they finish eating, he goes to get the ice cream and two of the fun spoons from the break room. They split the pint and laugh far too loudly for how late it is. The computer beeps for a final time, software finally fully uploaded and settled. She still has to run tests and double check that everything is working, but that can wait. Derek offers her a bite of ice cream, and if he kisses her again to remove the ice cream from her bottom lip, she can't say she minds.
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ifiwere-idbe · 2 years
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Sturdy Foundation
Lauren finally accepts some healthy support when the pain in her leg acts up. Total fluff with a little tension. A S3 one-shot.
Leyla sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, which sat in the middle of the sparest spare bedroom she’d ever seen. She felt awkward about it when a woman, who a few weeks earlier nearly had her arrested, invited Leyla to come to stay with her. After all, in the grand scheme of things, they barely knew each other. When Leyla agreed to be Lauren’s roommate, a logical and protective voice chided in her head that this woman may in fact be insane and plotting something horrible. Leyla, despite her best efforts and strongest sense of denial, was painfully vulnerable - an immigrant with no family and nowhere to go, and no one to miss her if she disappeared. But there was something undeniably earnest about Lauren and, though Leyla’d never say to her face for risk of being punched, incredibly vulnerable about her too. But as awkward as she felt about coming into this “stranger’s” home, Leyla felt doubly strange when Lauren swung the door open and revealed the second bedroom.
There was a bed. And there was a lamp. 
“My B’n B’s Yelp rating is stellar,” Lauren said with a wry shrug.
“Five stars?” Leyla quipped back.
“Four-point-eight, actually,” Lauren had an expression she seemed to let slip around Leyla often enough that it had become a comfort to her - a shy smirk that she didn’t seem to want there, but was on her face anyway.
Over the last few days, Leyla had added whatever few touches she had to contribute to the room: her two extra outfits clean and folded every day next to the lamp on the floor; a ratty and loved childhood toy propped in the middle of her pillow after making her bed each morning; and now, a growing collection of second-hand medical textbooks, which were currently sprawled out in front of her. 
She had started studying for the medical board exams when she first came to the States and was told she’d have to essentially start over, but surviving got in the way. Now, with some sense of stability, she could breathe and focus on reabsorbing material that had gone dormant over the last few years. Leyla also felt it was the least she could do in response to Lauren’s kindness. She wanted to be as productive as possible and find some way to pay her back someday, even if Lauren insisted that wasn’t necessary. They had sweetly bickered for almost forty minutes last week because Leyla tried giving Lauren a ride to work.
“You’re not my chauffeur, Leyla! You’re my friend,” Lauren said, forcefully unloading takeout boxes onto the counter.
“I don’t want to be someone’s charity case,” Leyla snapped back.
“Good. I don’t do charity. That’s Max’s area of annoying expertise,” Lauren grabbed her laptop from her bag and huffed off to her bed, a container of orange chicken in her hand and chopsticks in her mouth. Leyla just glared at the wonton soup Lauren had shoved her direction and rolled her eyes.
“You deserve to eat better,” Leyla called from the kitchen, “Stop buying takeout. I’m making you dinner from now on.” They caught each others’ stare briefly as Leyla turned towards her room to study while she ate. Lauren was cocked and ready to argue, but Leyla didn’t stick around to hear her rebuttal.
They went back and forth like this until finally falling into the ease of a routine, and Leyla started to see that Lauren was very used to giving and fending for herself. Leyla’s offers of reciprocation were typically met with defensive recoils or sarcastic jokes. 
When Leyla made her lunch: “Are the crusts cut off?”
When Leyla set the table for dinner: “Wait… I have a table?”
When Leyla offered to help with rent: “This isn’t a Super 8.”
It wasn’t until Leyla brought home an eight-foot living tree that Lauren was rendered a bit speechless, accepting the gesture in confounded silence, when Leyla reached over and took her hand. After a moment, their hands settled into each others’, and Leyla caught a gentle, unsure smile on Lauren’s face.
As Leyla studied, her mind drifted to the feeling of Lauren’s hand dropping its weight into hers as her tense shoulders loosened. It had been a display of support and friendship, a way to simply say, This doesn’t need to be one-sided. Still, Leyla found that when she thought about her smile and how the light caught Lauren’s eyes when she looked down at their wrapped fingers, then up into Leyla’s gaze, Leyla felt a quick flip in her chest.
When she heard the front door clatter open, Leyla started and slapped her ethics book shut, the distinct feeling she’d been caught in her thoughts causing the skin on her neck to prickle with embarrassment. It wasn’t until she heard shuffling, scraping, and a few choice words that her feelings suddenly settled.
Leyla poked her head out into the hallway and saw Lauren dumping her bag on the floor and propping herself against the wall. She flexed her leg at the knee and drew a hiss through her teeth. Leyla had seen the scar when Lauren wore shorts around the apartment but never felt it was her place to ask her what happened. Seeing Lauren like this - reigning in her pain where no one else could see - made Leyla feel privileged but also incredibly guilty. Despite that guilt, she drew herself further from her room and moved cautiously down the hall.
There had been plenty of times Leyla had to approach a wounded person with a tentative determination because she either didn’t know whose side they were on or the integrity of the building had been severely compromised. Her professionalism was built on the foundations of compartmentalization, something she was beginning to struggle with around Lauren.
“Hey,” Leyla’s voice was soft, so much so that she barely recognized her own tone.
Lauren jumped a little and immediately blushed, shoving herself away from the wall.
“Hey,” she smiled, but her jaw muscles twitched, a subtle giveaway to how much pain someone was hiding, “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. Sometimes, I let the door swing itself shut. Drives my neighbors nuts.” Leyla tilted her head to one side as Lauren yammered away, starting towards the kitchen while favoring her good leg.
“Lauren…” 
Even if Leyla asked if she needed help, she’d say no. But she didn’t just want to reach out and take hold of her without permission and make Lauren uncomfortable. So, Leyla followed inconspicuously until Lauren’s knee buckled, her body’s way of telling Leyla to step in and help this stubborn fool. 
“I’m fine,” Lauren insisted as she fell against Leyla’s sturdy frame.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” Leyla’s voice had become even quieter as Lauren struggled to put weight back on her feet, “I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re secretly human.” After hobbling with admirable determination for a moment more, Lauren heaved an exasperated sigh, shifting briefly towards Leyla. Her ears were red and warm with what Leyla figured was embarrassment, and she tried to temper her heart rate as Lauren’s head rested against her cheek. Lauren had cast almost all of her body weight into Leyla, and she was sure Lauren would be able to feel it if her heart didn’t slow down.
Adrenaline, she could say, from thinking you were going to fall. 
The two stood still for a moment longer, Leyla holding Lauren by the shoulders with gentle security. She needed to walk her to the couch, but she selfishly was enjoying the feeling of holding her, of feeling Lauren leaning up against her with complete trust, a few wisps of her hair brushing against Leyla’s cheek. Instinctively, she slid her hand from Lauren’s shoulder and tucked the strands behind her ear, and her heart lilted nervously as Lauren leaned into the affection. Everyone was so starved for a touch, the warm sensation of another body close to theirs, and Leyla reasoned that was why she hadn’t let go, and why Lauren hadn’t pulled away.
“You should sit,” Leyla said finally, the words coming out in one smooth breath, keeping the delicate pattern they had developed together, “Or sleep.”
Lauren rocked her weight away from Leyla, who had to fight the sense of gravity Lauren’s body seemed to keep. Why did I say anything? Leyla caught a frustrated sigh in her throat before it slipped out and gave her away.
“Thank you,” Lauren turned, still a little shaky and favoring her good leg, “for…not letting me fall.”
“What kind of roommate would I be if I let you fall?” Leyla drew her shoulders back, consciously trying to shake off the imprint of Lauren’s body in her arms. Lauren parted her lips to respond with something but instead just offered a quick smile and bade Leyla goodnight.
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Thanks for reading! More’s coming down the pipeline!
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thenovelartist · 3 years
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Burned Beginnings, Chapter 7
<<Previous  Next>> 
19. You’re Beautiful
Marinette probably should have gone back to her own room for the evening. Then maybe she wouldn’t have found herself in this situation.
But then again, she couldn’t find herself to fully regret her situation, either.
Adrien’s strong arms pulled her closer to his chest as he pressed a kiss on her neck, and she grabbed his shirt tighter as a whine escaped her. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.
Sure, sure; but she was also in trouble.
The evening had started out innocent enough. They once again had brought dinner back to the hotel so they could talk and be obnoxious without disrupting the other people at the restaurant. But dinner had turned into snuggling, which turned into kissing, which turned into Adrien having Marinette pinned to the bed while he lavished attention on her.
Geez, they were going home in two days, and she was going to be covered with hickies at this rate. She figured she was only okay with that if—
“Ah! Adrien,” she moaned as he kissed her pulse point. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” he challenged, his voice low, husky, and hot against her skin.
She groaned. How did this man go from “best friend” to “snogging her senseless” in the span of a day?
Better question: how did she become so okay with it?
He tapped one more open-mouth kiss to her neck before pulling away, propping himself up on his elbows to meet her gaze. “Too much?” he asked, voice laced with a hint of concern.
This is my chance.
She contorted herself so as to get just enough leverage to throw Adrien off her, rolling him over to the other side of the bed so now she was laying on top of him.
The shock on his face stoked the already hot fire in her. While this wasn’t much better a situation and she still found herself up to her neck in trouble, she did find this fun.
Actually, she might find herself in more trouble like this. She did always love having the upper hand on him.
“Fair’s fair,” she purred, voice low as she straddled him, giving her the best angle to lean forward to his neck.
Adrien’s chuckle was flirty and deep. It wasn’t fair that he was this sexy, dang it. And it was worse when he grabbed hold of her hips. She gasped at his contact before her lips could hit his neck.
“Oh?” he purred. “You gonna leave marks on me now? Is that how it is?”
She didn’t bother answering—her voice was gone, anyway—and let her kiss on his neck answer that for him.
He growled, his fingers digging deeper into her hips. “Yeah yeah, fair’s fair,” he said, voice strained. “But let me warn you, princess, at this rate, this is only gonna last a little while longer before I kick you out.”
Worried she might have crossed a line, Marinette pulled away a bit, her brows furrowed. What she hadn’t expected was Adrien hissing at the movement and grabbing her thighs to keep her from leaning back any further. She gasped at his sudden grip, face flooding with heat. “W-why?” she stuttered out.
Adrien’s smile almost looked strained. “Last thing I want to do is go way too far too fast, Princess. And you’re really testing me, at the moment.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, beginning to back off.
“No, just something to keep in mind for when I hit the brakes on this thing.”
A wicked smile crossed her lips. “Noted.”
With that, she leaned forward to keep pressing kisses to his face and neck and collarbone, returning all the attention he’d given to her with a new mission in mind.
How fast could she make him kick her out?
 20. Passionfruit
Adrien couldn’t help but be nervous. He was dating his bosses’ daughter.
He knew he and Marinette wouldn’t hide the fact they’d gotten together. But as they sipped on a couple of smoothies they’d gotten before they hit the airport, they were debating if they wanted to tell her parents the truth or lie a bit and wait until a week passed by to break it to Tom and Sabine so he and Marinette could play off like they’d spent the trip as just friends and nothing happened between them.
For example, like they hadn’t swapped hickies in his room two nights in a row.
Adrien had had to grab make-up to cover the ones Marinette left on him. She’d looked way too smug about it, too.
“Why you gotta cover them up?” she’d teased, watching as he expertly put on the concealer.
He’d just glared at her. “Because I want to live.”
“Aww, come on, be brave,” she’d joked, shooting him a wink.
“Do you not want to be with me? Because if I die, you’ll be alone, too.”
Marinette had just shrugged. “Meh, I’m cool with that.”
“Wait! Marinette! Marinette!”
She was lucky she was cute and could get away with those things. Problem was she knew she could get away with those things, which only caused a headache for him.
Why was he dating her again?
Eh, give it ten minutes, and he’d be reminded why.
“I think I just want to be honest with them.”
Adrien looked down at Marinette. “Huh?”
“My parents,” she answered. “I don’t want to lie to them about it. I don’t want to give them any reason to make them question their trust in me. So we’ll tell them the truth. Besides, they do like you a lot. I don’t think they’ll be disappointed or anything.”
Adrien nodded. “I agree. I don’t want to lie to them, either. They put a lot of trust in me to take you to New York and keep you safe and all. I don’t want to make them question their trust in me, either.”
Marinette smiled. “So, we have a plan, then?”
“When do we tell them?”
“They’re making us dinner for when we arrive back there. We’ll tell them, then.”
Adrien’s brow furrowed. “We’ll be getting back late, though. Is it okay for them to wait up for us?”
“They insisted,” Marinette said with a shrug. “And you know them: they wouldn’t hear otherwise.”
That was true. They would insist staying tup to check over their daughter when she arrived back at the very least.
“So, we’ll tell them over dinner,” Marinette said. “I’ll lead.”
Adrien nodded. “Okay, then it sounds like we have a plan.”
When Marinette grinned, his heart was put at ease. “Sounds like a plan.”
She was the one who leaned forward, but Adrien was more than happy to meet her more than halfway. She always tasted sweet, but today, she was doubly so. And he wasn’t sure if that was because of the passionfruit on her lips or just pure coincidence.
 21. Kittens
Marinette was looking at the numerous cats and kittens that filled her sketchbook, but she just wasn’t liking any of them.
With a sigh, she pushed it aside and snuck up to her balcony to cool her head in the night air. It had been almost two months since she and Adrien had gone on their New York trip where they’d ended up confessing, and they’d been going strong ever since.
She had been so nervous to tell her parents, but much to her surprise, they didn’t seem very surprised at all. Instead, both her and Adrien had watched in shock as her papa slid money over to her maman.
“As owners of this bakery, we are not oblivious to its innerworkings,” her maman had said, beaming grin on her face as she took the money. “With you two as close as you were, it was only a matter of time before you two got together. I guessed it would happen during the trip, but Tom thought it would happen after. So I won.”
“Maman!”
While she had been feeling minorly mortified, Adrien had simply doubled over laughing, finding the whole thing hilarious.
Part of her could not believe her parents did that while the other part of her was relieved that her parents took it in stride and practically accepted Adrien as their own already.
Occasionally, she got to thinking about when Adrien would actually become part of the family. Yes, they’d only been dating for 2 months, but Marinette didn’t feel like it was impulsive to think that they worked together and would for a long time. She’d known him for almost a year now, and they’d somehow clicked quickly and had become very close friends before they’d started dating. She didn’t think it was a stretch to say she could see a future with him.
Actually, it was much harder to imagine a future without him and his teasing and his support and his nerdy love of anime and… and so many other things that now made up her daily life.
He matched her perfectly, being both her equal and perfect counter.
Perfect counter…
Inspiration struck her, filling her with a second wind as a night breeze rolled across Paris. But she barely noticed it as she slipped back down her hatch and headed back to her sketchbook.  
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popculturebuffet · 3 years
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Ducktales Comics: Spies Like Us and Dime after Dime or Weblena: The Preschool Days (Lena Retrospective) (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)
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Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, My Lena Retrospective, which fittingly has now come to Women’s History Month! I sadly do not have anything besides this arc prepared for the month. This month is pretty packed for me with two shows a week to cover, as while there’s only two weeks of Ducktales left final space starts up right after to take it’s spot, two arcs to cover, and two time specific movie reviews: animal crossing the movie and the 1990 TMNT film. I will try to get more than the currently planned top 12 superheroines list out there... but this month is very tight as is, so if I do not I deeply apologize.
Now that’s out of the way, it’s appropriate we start Women’s history month on some likely lesser known parts of Lena’s history, with some comics stories focusing on our faviorite emo lesbian duck and her 87 counterpart. Before I get started on that though Kev my patreon pointed out something intresting a few weeks back i’ve been forgetting to get to and since we’re looking into Minima, I felt this was the perfect time to do so: Lena’s Concept art. 
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There’s quite a few things to gleam from this. For starters as pointed out in the reddit thread I got the image as a whole from this was made in 2015, meaning Lena was one of the first new characters designed for the series and was part of it from the VERY early stages, as evidenced by the fact that despite clearly having their new personalities established, Beakly and Webby still had the old designs. 
The other notable change is that her first design was way more like both Magica nad Minima, a bit more modern, but clearly far more obvious who she was related to. She also had all black feathers making the shadow twist a bit more obvious and was likely done away with both to avoid giving that twist away, the same reason for the fake lestrange name, and to avoid accidently black coding her, as while Lena being black would’ve been intersting, it also would’ve invited a firestorm of controversy given that their one black character in season 1.. woul’dve started off as a homeless, manipulative antagonist, and none of that would play well nor was it something the progressive crew of this show couldn’t spot from a mile away.  And even this early on they have an almost final design ready, simply changing the shirt to fit her personality more, and her hair to be pink because it honestly looked better She also had green eyes throughout, but for whatever reason they phased them out. That part I don’t quite get as they look nice but probably they were hard to translate to the reboot style once they settled on their own. Her purple eyeshadow and haircut though have stuck since and were good calls. 
One last VERY obvious note.. Webby was gay for Lena from minute one. While Dana helped it is now VERY obvious they gay coded this relationship from the design phase, and the crew was entirely aware the whole time and I gave them less credit than I should have. They clearly had this in mind, and it’s very likely ONLY subtext because Disney, while making more and more progress, is very reluctant to have queer characters as Owl House was a struggle and since they have a tighter leash on properites based on the sensational 6, that means Frank knew they had the same odds of making Webby or Della queer in anything but subtext that a pig has of suviving in a slaughterhouse. I bring this up because I fear the series getting accused of queerbaiting somewhere down the road instead of doing what they could with a bad hand and hoping they could make the show as gay as they could. Penny is as out as they posisbly could get her, and Violet and Lena’s dad’s got a full apperance, if no speaking role that made it obvious beyond a shadow of a doubt their gay and did it in a plot important episode. So they did their best and I want them to get credit for that. 
But while this is all intresting stuff, join me under the cut for the meat of today’s review as I dig into Lena’s only apperance in the tie-in comic that was never punished here, and the only apperance of her protoype Minima.
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Spies Like Us:  As I mentioned this comic was never published here which is doubly weird to me because of how I knew this story existed. Since I follow comics weekly and buy trades reguarly, I read the solicits companies put out eveyr month to see what new series are coming, what the ones i’m currently reading are doing, and what trades are coming out. That sort of thing, and it’s something I love. I know their basically adds.. but their well put together adds that really pull you into the books you like. The big two and the indies are all very good at it and sometimes i’ts the only way to know a comic is coming if the company dosen’t make a press release for it ahead of time. 
So naturally given there are several comics I follow at idw, paticuarlly the TMNT comics, I read those solicits and found they were going to do an issue with Webby and Lena becoming spies, and was excited about it. I ended up forgetting about it and never really followed the Ducktales comic as it came out, and upon reading an issue or two recently, one for another comission by kev as one story, happy happy valley, was particularly terrible. For those who haven’t read the story or my review, it involved the family getting stranded on an island where their forced to partake in activites and smile..that somehow turned into an aseop about Louie wanting to be rich. It ended with this
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Yes.. really. That actually happened. But even with this, I fully planned to cover the issue when I covered Lena, and brought it up to Kev when he commissioned the retrospective. He gave me the discord equilvent of a blank stare and had never heard of it. I soon found out why: the story was replaced as, and fair play to disney, it spoiled Beakly’s past from the agent 23 episode which wasn’t going to air in time.  What dosen’t work is they never reprinted the story in The US.. didn’t put it in a future issue and just swap it’s place didn’t put it in the nothing. And the story was fully complete as we’ll see, with a cover and everything so they had no excuse whatsoever to NEVER use it, even with what happened to Lena in the season finale, this clearly took place before that and it was weird to just shelve it because of that. But thankfully when a bunch of the stories were reprinted overseas, this and another one, also webby centric got published overseas. But not in english.
Lucky for me, I was able to find an english translation of an english story which you can read RIGHT HERE. It was translated by @neopuff and I thank them for it as without them this review would not be possible and want to give them all the credit. So was it worth all their hard work translating it? Well let’s take a look. 
We begin at the Manor where Lena is skulking around suspiciously.. though it turns out she and Webby are just playing hide and seek. Though Lena accuses cheating. The dialouge here is pretty flat though that’s not Neopuff’s fault at all. As I can attest from reading other stories a lot of the early IDW comics are just this flat in dialoguge no matter the writer as they were likely given character descriptions and basic info about the show they likely had written up for merchandising and Frank and Co were given no involvement and likely weren’t made avaliable to consult on the comics to help them be a bit more fleshed out. It’s very obvious to me Disney just tried to get these pumped out so they’d have a series in stores to tie in without carring about qualities and given Scrooge debuted in comics, their lack of care toward that side of things in general, but especially in the first american published original duck comics in a while, bothers me a lot. It’s inexcusable. 
That being said the story isn’t half bad nor is the setup as the two hear a beeping and find it’s Beakly’s phone going off with a mysterious message from Q, Webby thinks she’s been reactivated, and is encouraged by Lena to go look after her while she stays along. While Webby says in response
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It just feels grossly out of character for both. Lena is far more subtle about manipulation as shown five minutes ago and Webby blindly trusts her. Because she has a massive crush on her and is naïve about how the world works. It just seems very odd of her to get suspicious as she never does on screen, and again it comes off as Disney having barely given the writers any materials on them when i’m sure Frank or Matt would’ve been happy to write up a thing for them to help outside of the usual press materials they were given. 
Though hte last line isn’t all that out of character and has an obvious answer as within a jumpcut Launchpad’s taking them to London and is told to blend in.. which he does with an australian flag and accent.. good gag. 
So our heroines do some heroic breaking and entering and look for the package, but soon find while hiding it’s already in transit.. and had obvious bows on int. Whoops. Our heroes trie the old follow tha tcar bit and refreshingly, it dosen’t pan out as the guy stops and tells them to get out. A nice twist. Unable to follow, our heroes instead find launchpad lost, as his map is upside down
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So Lena dares him if he can follow that plane, a nice bit of character for both. I will give Joe credit. While the dialouge’s a bit flat and there was that out of character moment.. for the most part he does nail the actual character down and does use it decently enough. He’s just not given enough page room or actual details to work  with is all. 
So while our heroes follow they end up having to crash as they run out of fuel.. lucky their with the expert but end up near home where the package is delivered to. Turns out this wasn’t a spy thing, this was just a thing with her aunt. That’s fine and a nice gag.. it’s just ruined by just sorta.. ending. Lena leaves disapointed and Beakly scolds webby for “playing spy” and she’s sad. That’s it that’s how it ends. Which dosen’t fit the characters, as while Beakly would defintely scold her, it just dosen’t FIT that she’d be that tearse or not appricate the effort or give her an actual lecture and it feels like Joe had no idea how to end this after the gag and just.. ended it. 
Final Thoughts for Spies Likes Us: This was okay.  It is a bit of a disappointment as for the only story not available.. i’ts just okay and not really above an average Ducktales comics story, with some nice character bits but feeling a bit weak overall, as do at least the first half of the idw comics. I haven’t read the later stuff to see if it got better. It’s worth a read if you like Webby and Lena as characters and it’s not BAD, it’s just not anything impressive and is a simple hyjinks filled misunderstanding story. 
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Dime After Dime:
So now  we go back a bit to the original. I didn’t do these in chronological order because frankly, Dime after Dime is the better story of the two and the bigger one at that, so I have more to work with here. But the original also had comics and honestly from the few i’ve read much BETTER comics. I chalk this up to two things: The Ducktales 87 comics seem to have come out AFTER the series was already a hit, and since Ducktales is pretty close to the original uncle scrooge comics minus it’s own tweaks here and there, it’s easy enough to just write the stories like you would a regular uncle scrooge story, just with Webby and Launchpad added, whereas the idw writers were staffed with writing for all new versions of the characters with noticable differences without much to go on.  It’s why to me with tie in comics you have two options: Wait long enough so you can put your story inbtween the episodes like the Steven Universe and Regular Show comics did or just make your own continuity entirely like the Adventure Time Comics and the Archie TMNT Adventures series did. The ONLY time i’ve seen a comic work like this is the Bravest Warriors comic, which had a talented writer and fit well enough in the margins until it sadly ended.. and honestly is BETTER in some cases than the series. I might get to it someday. The point is this comic shows why you need to have a deft hand adapting something instead of just falling your arms about and hoping it’ll work. 
So today’s comic was part of some Disney Series called cartoon tales, which clearly repackaged comic stories from wherever, and put them together. I don’t know much about it and the only other issue avaliable collects the disney adventures adaptation of “Just Us Justice Ducks”, which I might cover at some point. This book does have two other stories which i’d be happy to do on comission or on my own at some point, one involving gladstone the other gizmoduck, but for now, i’m just sticking to the title story and the reason you all came here. 
So we open with Magica gazing into her crystal ball from her Mt. Vesuvies base saying that Scrooge will never know what hit him I know exactly what and who wiil hit him thank you very much. 
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Scrooge is seeing Webby off to her first day of day camp, getting all teary eyed which is touching. Beakly apparently goes with her as the story never SAYS Sshe does but she’s not also not around when the story moves on, as Launchpad says it looks like rain. Scrooge dismisses him, though Launchpad turns out to be right. Scrooge had good reason for once though, instead of just being a dick good on you comic for making me not want to punch him in the face, trust me that is a high bar to clear with the scrooge comics, as the weather was fine just a minute ago. Naturally it was Magica All Along! Nothing scrooge can do now that eveyrthing has gone wrong! Her entrance though is sadly not a catchy earwormy tune, but .. this confusing line
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I think your thinking of Gladstone. And he’s still single so.. have at that but no Scrooge is the one who values hard work over anything else and brags about THAT or being rich. I .. I don’t get this line and frankly I don’t want to. Even in stories where the dime is supernaturally lucky and the source of his wealth he dosen’t boast about it because he’s not stupid and dosen’t want everyone knowing how to bankrupt him instantly. This line will baffle me until I die, presumably, given my life’s tragetctory, after reviewing an episode of mighty ducks and slipping on some a jerky wrapper. 
Scrooge asks what she wants... 
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No this isn’t that kind of story sadly. Her plan is to.. zap the bin with lightning and take the dime. Really just went with your first draft didn’t you magica? But as stupid as this plan is Scrooge has prepared for it. He installed a lightning rod on the bin to save on power, and to power his new super soaker traps. So all Magica did was save him money. She flies off and nothing is acomplished. 
So we get back to Webby at the Teenie Weenie Day Camp.. and just so you don’t think that was a terrible joke on my part...
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My theory for how this name got approved at all is the editor KNEW how that sounded and just wanted to see if Disney would actually print a comic with the phrase Teenie Weenie without getting what it means in slang or how hilariously inapproriate it is to namme a children’s camp after it. 
Your probably wondering who that grown woman calling Webby a dweeb is. Well story wise, she’s SUPPOSED to be another kid at the camp around Webby’s age. In practice, she looks like THIS in closeup
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So it looks and plays like a 30 year old woman snuck into the day camp and no one’s noticed she’s not actually a children. Or their just humoring her because she had a week to live. I don’t know. I do know she doesn’t get to judge on names. 
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Snippy Von Glitz, proof rich people really do hate their kids and this this comic is trying personally to give me material. Snippy is your average alpha bitch, taking a chair from Minma and being obnoxious and classist and all that jazz. Minima gets hers back by making the chair bouncy then returning it to normal so Snippy gets in trouble when she makes up things about the chair, with the lady in charge getting ready to call her Dad. You cannot convince me that her “Dad” is just what she calls her husband, this is how they both get off, and that the lady at the preschool only tolerates it because they pay her a lot and so far the kids haven’t noticed Snippy is 30. Webby likes minima finding her name pretty, proving that the ho yay is alive no matter the webby and magica relative, and Minma returns the favor by saving her from a block. 
Minma is reluctant to make an actual friend, finding they aren’t worth anything and given most of the kids here apparently pick on her and her aunt is well.. Magica, it’s understandable why she’d be so cold. But Webby presses on and says something from Scrooge about friends. Which given Ducktales scrooge has none goes weird but it gets Minma to find out she knows and lives with Scrooge, so she cons webby into taking the dime for show and tell, showing that she can manipulate them with her powers, and that he won’t notice it’s missing, getting her with “I thought you wanted to be friends” 
So let’s pause for a second and compare and contrast the two: Both are the niece, or at least sorta in Lena’s case, of Magica, both manipulate webby, and both are her first real friend: The 87 boys are little monsters and I don’t consider them friends or even brothers, while the 2017 ones are just that: brothers. Their her siblings in all but blood, not friends and have hteir own long complicated history. 
But otherwise the two are vastly different. Lena is a far more complex character as she’s been abused her whole life, is a rebel because Magica hardly gave her agency, and while she starts wooing webby out of self interest it’s clear even as far as the first episode she cares. Lena would gladly be part of the world if she could and this whole scheme is to gain that choice. 
Minma is still sympathetic but very different: She walls herself off because the other kids laugh and mock her for being herself and lashes out at them.. not unreasonably mind , but still feeling she needs no one else.. but as we’ll learn later she’s only helping Magica to finally feel accepted, to get all the fancy clothes and stuff that will make her popular instead of that grown woman masquerading as a kid for disturbing reasons. Minma is at her heart just a hurt kid desperate to fit in. And while Lena shares the desire for a place to belong.. it’s at it’s core much sadder. Lena.. wants a family. Someone to love her and to care about her and actually look after her. Minma has that she just wants to be loved. it’s similar but very diffrent and I can see why Lena evolved into what she did, as Frank and Matt ended up going in a far darker but ultimately more interesting direction. Minima is not a bad character at all though and without her I don’t think we would’ve had Lena, but at the end of the day the 87verse is just not that complicated, so the reboot needed something more and that more evolved into who we have now. 
Both kids excitedly talk about their new friends, with their respective guardians being distracted. Scrooge is distracted by the fact his car is a bit bumpy and Launchpad offers to fix it up for free with some parts from a buddy, which given the sentence “This won’t cost you anything” makes him erect, Scrooge agrees. Magica meanwhile, whose watching Minima while her mom is away which raises a LOT of questions we don’t have time for like who she is, is she’s poes wife or does Magica have other siblings... it’s a lot of questions we’re never going to get answers to. 
The next day Webby got the dime easy as Scrooge was distracted. so Minima swaps them while she’s distracted. But while swiping it was easy, which to be fair Webby is likely approved in his security so it woudln’t match her.. or the story just needed to progress. You make the call. 
Magica does the logical thing and goes and get sthe dime and the story ends there.. and i’m shitting you, she of course brags to scrooge, reveals minima as her spy, and offers to RACE him for it shortly after he realizes he has a fake.
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The only major flaw in this story is Magica’s overconfdience, which isn’t BAD persay, but here has gotten to dumbass proportions. She just can’t plan for anything and a CHILD has a better plan than her that only dosen’t work for reasons we’ll get to. And that plan is almost ruined by Magica taunting scrooge!
So a race is on but Launchpad has transformed Scrooge’s old Model T into this
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Damn that’s cool. Scrooge of course dosen’t like it, but honestly you get what you paid for. Oh that’s right you paid nothing for something you NEED to use every day for transportation. 
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At  the rickity thickity bridge, Steve Buschemi’s worst roll and her minion ask Webby to roll with them and Minima mistakes this for betrayal planning to soak them all.. only for Webby to DEFEND HER, pointing out minma’s her friend, how she dresses is fine and she loves her no matter what.. the last part’s implied. The 30-year old asshole and her minon leave Webby and Minma is genuinely touched, as no one’s done that for her before. She put up so many walls... she didn’t realize someone could ACTUALLY care about her, so obessed with thinking she had to be like that soccer mom in preschoolers clothing, she just had to be herself: kinda werid but in that fun adams family way. Webby says she knows Minma would do the same.. so while she prepares to let’s get back to the race. Magica realizes Launchpad’s roadster is actually gaining and spreads some tacks, but Scrooge counters with some money.. because of course he has a lot of money in the trunk. But Magica takes out the bridge and while scrooge awesomely JUMPS IT... he’s still too late. 
As you probably guess though, Minima had a change of heart, and gave Webby the real dime back, and Scrooge confirms it. Minima TRIES to tell Magica, and Magica is horrified her niece is a goody goody “I”ll never hear the end of it at my astral aerobics class”.. I.. I want to see that. Let’s raise those spirit ladies and kick kick that soul, doge that shadow king punch them in the soul. Yes! Now eat it eat it and absorb it’s power!
We end on a button joke as Webby apologizes for taking the dime., Scrooge accepts it and Webby tells them magica learned to carpet and they gulp for some reason. 
Final Thoughts on Dime after Dime: This story was decent. It has problems, some jokes don’t land and Magica is made horribly incompetent, but minima’s character arc is endearing, and Webby herself is precious as always and her winning Minima over feels genuine. And Scrooge is in prime adoring uncle mode with her and i’ts just so cute. And the roadster race is pretty awesome to watch honestly. It’s an exceptional and enjoyable tie in story.. and not the last ducktales 87 story we’ll be covering here. Wink wonk. 
Next Time: Things get DARK as Lena and Webby head into the depths of Scrooge’s hidden bin and Lena heads into the depths of her own soul. 
Tommorow: Woo-Ooo mofos as we go back to the very beginning of the reboot! A family restored, a lost city to explore, and a glomgold rises! Be here or be square. 
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The Hard Things
Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.
Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.
Calum X Black Female OC.
I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.
@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.
The Hard Things--Alternative Ending
Masterlist (on semi hiatus)
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If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.
But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.
Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.
This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.
“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.
“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”
Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”
The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”
The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.
“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.
“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”
There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.
“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”
When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”
Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.
In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.
Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”
Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.
With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.
“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.
Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”
“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?
“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”
Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”
“So says the expert?”
Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”
Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”
A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.
Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”
“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”
“In the wrist.”
A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.
Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.
“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.
“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”
Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.
When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.
******
Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”
“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.
“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”
“Karma’s a bitch.”
“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.
*****
Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.
He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.
There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”
“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”
Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”
“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.
“Just me.”
“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.
“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”
“Laugh at you?”
“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”
A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.
“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.
And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.
*****
She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.
Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.
Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.
“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.
“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”
Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”
Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”
“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”
“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”
“What-what do you mean?”
“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”
He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”
“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”
“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”
“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”
“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”
“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”
Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.
“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”
She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”
Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”
“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”
“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”
“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”
He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”
“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”
“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”
“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”
“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”
“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.
“And a dog,” Calum corrects.
“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”
“Tell me something.”
“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.
“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”
“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.
“Do you want to answer now?”
“Are you leaving now?”
“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”
“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”
“What if I stay until dawn?”
“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”
“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.
“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.
“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”
“That darlin’ is what I call details.”
“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”
Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”
“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”
“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”
Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.
It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.
“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”
Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”
“The truth,” Freya confirms.
“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”
“That sounds lovely, Calum.”
“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”
“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”
“And if it does.”
“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”
“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.
“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”
“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”
“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”
“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.
“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”
“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”
“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”
“How often did you go between their houses?”
“Every weekend.”
Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”
“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”
Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”
Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.
“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”
“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.
“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.
“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”
“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”
“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.
“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”
“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”
Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”
They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”
“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”
Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”
“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.
“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”
“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”
“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”
Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”
“Someone’s self flagellating.”
“Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”
“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”
Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”
Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”
“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.
“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”
“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”
“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”
“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”
“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”
Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.
His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”
“Just a little sting.”
Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”
Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”
He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”
Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”
It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.
Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”
Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears
She’s just gone.
******
When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.
“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”
He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”
Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”
Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”
But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?
Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.
Calum,
I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.
I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.
With Love,
Freya.
P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.
*****
Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.
Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.
There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke
“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”
But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.
Freya,
Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.
I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.
Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.
Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)
With Love,
Cal
Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.
But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.
With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.
There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.
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janeykath318 · 3 years
Text
The Beard Effect (Shieldshock)
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Getting invited to the super secret Avengers lair was a pretty big deal to a former “science minion.” The Accords had split the Avengers in half and those who had joined Steve Rogers in refusing to sign it were basically fugitives. It angered Darcy that the people who’d saved earth multiple times were being treated like criminals, just so the government had convenient scapegoats. 
Jane and Darcy were both vocal opponents of the Accords because of the gross human rights violations and as a result, a lot of opportunities suddenly disappeared. 
Jane went about muttering how she planned to portal Ross’s ass into outer space and Darcy was fully on board with that plan. 
Unfortunately, before any portalling could happen, they ended up getting kidnapped again. This wasn’t their first rodeo and they managed to overcome the thugs and hijack their van, but it broke down in the middle of nowhere and the two of them were left stranded, with no way to call for help. 
“What’ll we do now?” Jane asked
“Start walking,” Darcy suggested. “There’s bound to be some kind of civilization around here.”
Jane looked skeptical, but she shrugged and started walking. After an hour or so, they found a small lane that wound up and disappeared into the forest.
“That looks promising,” Jane said hopefully. “A Driveway!”
“Or the lane to a lair of villains or serial killers,” Darcy said, earning herself a glare. 
“It’s starting to get dark, Darce. I think we have to take our chances. I don’t see any other signs of habitation.” 
“True, but don’t come crying to me when an axe murderer is chasing you.” Darcy griped, but she started following the path, which turned out to be much longer than it looked.
“Don’t move!” A voice suddenly hissed from the shadows, stopping both women in their tracks.
“See? I told you!” Darcy crowed triumphantly. 
A figure emerged from the shadows, brandishing a gun, which he quickly holstered after he saw who they were.
“Darcy?”
“Clint?” Darcy exclaimed, recognizing her favorite archer and partner in crime. 
“How in the world did you get here?” Clint asked warily. “No one knows about this place.”
“Honestly, it was a complete accident,” Darcy told him. “We got kidnapped and escaped, but got stranded in the middle of nowhere and started walking, hoping to find other non-shady humans. This driveway looked promising, so here we are.” 
Clint looked very concerned and quizzed them on their captors and where they’d left the van before speaking into his comm. 
“I’ve explained the situation to Cap. He says to bring you up.”
“Steve’s here?” Darcy asked, heart doing a flutter of anticipation.
“Yep,” Clint grinned knowingly. He was well aware of the crush Darcy had on said Captain and used to tease her about it frequently. 
“Shall I tell him you send your love?”
“No!” Darcy nearly shouted, face turning pink. “Just get us safely inside.”
“Whatever you say,” Clint said with a smirk, chuckling to himself as he led them to the plain looking ranch house at the end of the lane. There was another brief discussion over the comms and then they were being ushered inside.
It was the typical plainly furnished basic safe house, but it was cluttered in a well-lived in way. Darcy recognized Wanda, Scott and Sam right away and greeted them all enthusiastically. Then Steve Rogers walked in and put a halt to all coherent thoughts. 
The man was gorgeous to begin with, but he’d let his hair get rather shaggy and—glory of glories—he’d grown a beard. He looked a bit world weary and tired, but he smiled right at her.
“Hi, Darcy, Jane.”
“Hi.” Darcy squeaked out, now doubly overcome from the smile AND the beard. She’d always had a weakness for bearded men, but Steve’s glorious specimen took that to a whole new level.
Jane took pity on her and took charge of the conversation, explaining what had happened to them and asking if they could be so kind as to tell them where they were and provide them a lift back to civilization.
“Sure we can,” Steve agreed, “but we should probably wait until morning. Natasha and Sharon are out scoping things out and we’ll soon find out more about your kidnappers. Were either of you hurt at all?”
“Only a few bruises and rope marks. Darcy and I kicked ass. They won’t mistake us for helpless scientists ever again.”
Jane spoke proudly and Darcy nodded enthusiastically. She’d wished Natasha could have seen it. 
Steve outright beamed at this, which caused Darcy to trip and go down in an embarrassed heap. She stayed on the floor, wishing a portal would appear and whisk her away. 
“Why are you like this?” Jane sighed in exasperation as she and Steve helped Darcy up.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked, concern in his voice.
Mortified, Darcy couldn’t look at him and mumbled “Yeah. Just tired. Being kidnapped wears one out.”
She wanted to die. Why did she always have to make herself look like an idiot in front of him? 
Steve, being the gentleman he was, volunteered to sleep in the living room so Jane and Darcy could have a bed. Darcy tried not to think about what sleepy Steve would look like as she counted sheep that night. 
She awoke the next morning and wandered out to the kitchen to find Natasha making coffee.
“Sleep well?” The spy greeted her, green eyes appraising her.
“Yes,” Darcy managed. “Though if you have extra coffee, I could definitely use some.” 
They caught up over their caffeinated beverages and Darcy heard more of the story of how Natasha had ended up changing her mind about the Accords and joining Team Cap. 
Right in the middle of a very funny anecdote involving Clint, Sam, and Scott, the door opened and Steve entered the house, sweaty and disheveled after a morning run.
Darcy’s laughter died in her throat as she observed Steve’s damp white shirt and glistening skin, muscles very much on display. 
“Morning, Nat. Darcy,” he acknowledged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and gulping it down.
Darcy let out a “morning!” and got the heck out of there, face burning again. She needed a cold shower and fast. She heard Natasha laughing at her, but decided she’d deal with that later. Steve was going to be the death of her. 
“Nat, do you know why Darcy hates me? She practically runs away whenever I enter a room and I don’t know what I did.”
A bewildered Steve was asking his friend this question two months later when they were settled in a new, larger, secret compound, joined by Darcy and Jane. He’d liked Darcy a lot and used to enjoy her company, but now, she could barely stand to look at him and he was rather confused and a little hurt. 
“I can’t speak for Darcy, but I don’t think it’s anything you did,” Nat assured him. “Have you tried talking to her?”
“Yes, but she always is too busy or finds a reason to escape before I can get more than one sentence out. I figured she really doesn’t want to be around me, so I let it go.”
Steve ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wondering how in the world he was going to fix this. He missed Darcy and this situation was  becoming very upsetting to him. 
“I’ll see if I can find out what’s what,” Natasha promised. “It is very unlike Darcy to leave someone in the dark if they’ve offended her.”
That very afternoon, Darcy found herself locked in a closet with none other than Steve. All the banging and yelling and swearing and angry texting at Jane and Natasha availed nothing. 
Natasha’s blunt text took the wind out of Darcy’s sails and she looked over at Steve remorsefully. They were right. She’d let her stupid crush get in the way of her friendship. 
“I could break this door down, you know,” Steve offered. 
“No need,” Darcy sighed, smiling weakly. “It’s about time I put my big girl pants on and told you what’s going on. It’s not your fault. I just am a complete disaster around guys I have a crush on and I may have a thing for the beard,” she finished, blushing like a tomato. “Which is why I could hardly say a word to you without squeaking.”
“So I didn’t hurt you?” Steve asked cautiously. 
“No. It was mostly me trying to control my wild urges to say or do totally inappropriate things to you. Face it, Steve. You’re irresistible.”
Steve gave a bashful grin. 
“I don’t know about that. But what if I told you I would be totally okay with you being “inappropriate?” Because I too must confess to having had some inappropriate thoughts.” 
“Really? About me?” Darcy asked, starting to feel very smug. 
“Definitely you,” Steve said, looking at her very intently. She blushed again and moved over close to him so she was right up in his space. 
“So Watcha gonna do about it, soldier?” She asked flirtatiously.
Steve grinned.
“Let’s start here,” he murmured right before he kissed her. 
It was better than her wildest dreams. Holy crap, the man could kiss! Knees already weak, she clutched him for dear life as the kiss deepened. 
“If I’d have known this would be the result, I’d have grown a beard a long time ago,” Steve admitted when they came up for air. “I’m crazy about you, Darcy. Have been for awhile.”
Darcy giggled against his chest. 
“You’re still plenty hot without it, but it kinda was the icing on the cake,” she told him.
Neither of them noticed when Natasha unlocked the doors. She listened for a moment, then smiled triumphantly and texted Jane that the mission was a success. Nothing was seen of either Steve or Darcy for the rest of that day. 
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musicfren · 3 years
Text
They’ve got a bad reputation (they’ll get a standing ovation) part 2
HI HAVE I, TOLD YOU, THAT, @nottesilhouette IS THE MOST FRIGGEN AMAZING WRITER IN THE WHOLE WORLD? God...why do we do this to ourselves, friggen 3400 word story in the span of 2 days...this is entirely exclusively my fault pay no mind  Read part 1 here. Happy @felinettenovember y’all, time for slep!
...oh, dear gods, why is Felix here? The spotlight burns into his face like shame, regret bubbling up in his stomach. He doesn’t remember challenging Marinette but he has, apparently, and now everyone’s watching and he has to-- he has to-- fight. Defend himself. 
Or breathe, if he can manage it.
One seems easier than the other. Well, here goes nothing. Felix steps forward and calls engarde. 
“Ophelia did nothing but obey the men in her life!” He cries, stepping forward, gesticulating wildly. The crowd gasps, and Felix doesn’t understand why until he realizes he's still holding the sword prop, white-knuckled grip around its hilt. Marinette’s eyes go wide with surprise and Felix nearly blurts out an apology right there. But then a glint of something sharper flashes in her gaze, burning with determination and suddenly Felix isn’t feeling quite so confident. It’s too late to quail now. He steps forward and matches her, still talking. “She’s hardly enough of an independent person to qualify as a character.” 
“What would she be, then?” Marinette’s voice is steady, calm, and Felix is wildly, irrationally envious of it. He can’t work out how to make his statements come out smooth, suave like she’s managed, so he goes for the next best weapon: rage.
“She’s little more than a symbol, a prop,” he spits, and the crowd reacts appropriately. Something in his chest loosens at the idea that he’s performed correctly. Something in his heart wrenches.
Marinette sends him a snide look. “You would know. You’re a model mannequin.” 
They’re circling each other now: Felix is brash, forceful, cutting broad slashes through the air with each sweeping generalization he makes. Marinette is steady, precise, pulling apart the stitches of his defense with needle-fine precision. His pulse quickens; a glance at the audience shows she’s winning their favor. This isn’t the clever riposte and quick banter they expected, and Felix is coming across as dim-witted at best. 
“Well, what is she then? You have so many judgements, it’s time you raised an opinion of your own-- or do you have no policy but to raze mine?” Felix pushes her back, scrambling for repost. He needs to be interesting, he needs to be clever, he needs to-- turn it back onto Marinette before the crowd realizes he’s faking, that he doesn’t want to be here, that he’s… scared. 
His tongue sours at the words, and he hates himself for saying them. Marinette shoots him a glare full of challenge, and for an instant he considers conceding right there. Marinette believes so strongly in her cause, and Felix is desperate to apologize, to reconcile, to just acknowledge the points she’s making. But he’s trapped now, caught in the reputation he’s built for this audience and his own pride, and he has nowhere to go but forward. 
Or backwards, apparently, because with each point Marinette makes, crisp and concise and clear, Felix finds himself frantically retreating further and further.
“Ophelia is the only person in the play who recognizes that Hamlet needs help.” 
“That’s not true--”
She cuts him off with a slice.  “She’s the only person who notices and tries to stop him, who cares enough to call him out on his actions, to hold him accountable to the promises he made before his mad plan, to who he used to be.” 
“The entire argument is milquetoast--” He stabs desperately.
“They speak of beauty and reputation, of expectations and the way one’s actions will never outweigh the image others have of them.” 
“They speak of madness and prostitution!”
They’ve become locked in combat now, their blades darting in the scant space their words leave behind. The crowd presses forward, squeezes the stage almost to bursting. Nino presses his face to the camera lense, not wanting to miss an instant.
“The argument is framed against women but its themes are centered on Hamlet’s own realization of the position he’s found himself in. It breaks the adrenaline rush long enough to show him, in all his grief and desperation, the reality he’s constructed for himself. They speak of agency!” 
“Ophelia has none!”
“Ophelia reminds him that he does!” Marinette’s voice finally raises. “Ophelia reminds Hamlet who he is, what he has, if only for a moment. Ophelia grieves for him, for his loss: of his father, of his sanity and dignity and agency. She acknowledges that he is a liar, but remembers the man he used to be, the person he put work into being.” 
“She laments the loss of his attention, nothing more.”
“To write her statements off as such discounts the tone and the manner with which they are intended; she is returning his madman’s accusations with compassion and reason, she is the only person who has done so, who will ever do so.” 
“Why should I take her seriously when no one else does?!” It’s a mad, desperate response as he finds himself teetering at the edge of the stage, and he’s unbalanced. He swings again, unhinged. 
“None of the men in her life-- not her father, not her brother, not god himself-- take her seriously until she dies.”
“She trips into a river.” Finally, Felix is in charge of this conversation; this, Marinette cannot deny. It is his strongest point, and the only point that matters. He steadies himself, holds his sword like a shield to defend his statement. 
“Her death is not an accident. Her death is the culmination of the climax. Her death is the reason anyone stops long enough to notice how far gone Hamlet is! Her death tethers Hamlet to the person he used to be, who loved her once, who remembered what it felt like to choose what he did and who he was.” 
“That makes her nothing more than the physical manifestation and harbinger of Hamlet's descent into madness,” and Felix puts on a smirk because he knows he should. 
Felix wishes he was being honest, passionate the way Marinette is being. Felix wishes her voice didn’t seem so far away, calling from a world he remembers existing in but can’t find his way back to anymore. Felix wishes he was talking to her in a realm even close to reality instead of the mirage he’s operating in, desperate not to fall through. 
Instead, he steps forward from the edge of the stage and keeps his sword aloft. “She’s trapped in the societal confines of traditional womanhood. She’s nothing more than a woman in a world where that doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right.” 
Marinette stops moving forward to meet him, drops her arm. Felix is thrilled, and sick and confused, doubly so when he notices the ferocity in her expression. It is not one of someone who has given up. It is one of someone who is about to pounce.
“You’re right, she is nothing more than a woman in a world where that doesn’t matter. No one cares what she has to say. So she makes it matter. She dies, and she is finally heard. You’re right, and she’s a genius for the way she wields it like a weapon.” Marinette smirks, matching his smugness with self-assured pride, and taps his wrist with her sword. His own slips easily out of his grasp, and he trembles; with what emotion, he cannot place. “Being able to do the work of all these men in 58 lines doesn’t make her less of a character, Felix. It makes her more of one, and more power to her for what she’s able to notice that no one else will. It’s not her fault men can’t manage it.”
 Felix finally snaps. “My sense is not less than yours!”
Marinette pauses, and very very slowly, grins. It’s terrifying, predatorial. She rakes her gaze down his body, and he shivers. “I had thought to agree but this battle of wits has proven very much so the opposite. When she blows him a kiss and winks, Felix collapses where he stands. 
It’s over. The tension the assembled students have been holding in their collective lungs for the last five minutes erupts into cheers and thunderous applause.
“Bravo, bravo.” says Nino, pushing through the crowd, most of whom are still frantically scribbling in their notebooks. Felix can scarcely bring himself to look up, his face burning with humiliation. The room around him is rapidly becoming a confusing blur of angry lights and prying eyes.
“You guys were amazing, I’ve never seen anything like that before! Honestly I should turn this in just like that.” Nino moves around to get a few more shots of their faces, lit up under the harsh theatre lights.
“No way!” shouts someone from the crowd, “I’m turning it in first!” “--can’t believe how easily Marinette just eviscerated Felix! I thought he was good at literature but--” “--she’s so clever, he could barely keep up--”  “--he’s not very good at this, is he--”
Someone else laughs and soon the whole crowd is bickering, arguing over who will lay claim to Marinette’s mental prowess and Felix’s mortification. 
“Enough, ALL of you! That was completely uncalled for. This wasn’t for you to take advantage of. None of you-- none of you-- bothered to state your own position, your own opinion. All you did was encourage my attacks, which were honestly in poor form.” Marinette hardly stops to breathe. “And anyways, I’m only more coherent because I’ve done weeks of research on this character. Felix kept up to someone who wasn’t just thinking on her feet, and his points still had credibility-- do you know how many literary analyses I’ve read on his position just to try and work out how to defend mine?” Marinette leans over and offers Felix a gentle smile and an outstretched hand. He gratefully accepts.
Felix takes her hand and pulls himself up with it, and stands shoulder to shoulder with her, looking out at the sea of chastised faces. “And now you think you can turn in our work-- her work, really-- and our performance as your own as if you have any claim to it-- it’s disgusting. Marinette poured herself into caring about this, and… and I should’ve listened to her, but I don’t get to take credit for the work she’s done to be this person. I need to do the work myself. You’re manipulators and thieves if you think you deserve any part of what she’s done.” 
“Hey, everyone is manipulated by something. Hamlet, Claudius, Horaito… you would know, right?” Marinette looks at him again, soft and shy and concerned through her lashes.
Felix swallows hard, glances at the cameras still rolling. Yeah, he would know.
“Thank you.” He says, stumbling and trying to hide the way his legs are shaking. “I, um… I guess I’d better put these swords away before someone stabs themselves.”
Nino slaps a hand on his shoulder so hard he nearly falls back down again. “Felix, my man! Get that grumpy black uniform off you!”
“Um… what?” Felix turns in confusion, head still spinning.
“You, my friend, are stage-hand no more! We’re still missing a Hamlet, and I know I’ve found the perfect one right here!”
“...WHAT?!?” 
As the world around him starts to blur, Marinette slips her hand into his and squeezes, shooting him a fond, amused grin. “You’re going to do great, Felix. I’ll see you on stage.” She presses her lips to his cheek, soft, warm, and… the scene fades to black to the sound of cheering.
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ajeepgirl · 3 years
Text
Right Person, Wrong Time
Summary: A mostly cannon-compliant AU one-shot where Kara and Lena actually met before as teenagers. Kara decided to show Eliza and Alex she can handle being on her own by enrolling in boarding school. And so, she completes her senior year of high school at the same school as Lena Luthor. The last thing Kara expected though, was to fall in love. The story picks up on their last day at school together...
Warning: This is sad but sweet... but oh so sad.
OR: Kara learning the hard lesson that sometimes love doesn't conquer all.
Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33005671
Kara exhaled slowly as she walked down the hallway towards the now familiar door. It was their last day. She could not believe how quickly the year had gone by. Looking back, she thought spending her senior year in a private boarding school would be a fun, unique challenge, something to show Eliza and Alex that she was ready to go to college and be independent. And when she got the full ride scholarship to attend one of the places she applied to, she couldn’t help but feel like it was fate that she should attend. It would be her first chance to show she can manage things on her own. So, she thought she would go to class and keep her head down, focus on her studies and focus on college applications. She was hoping to get a scholarship for that too, after all. But, the year didn’t exactly go as planned.
She didn’t know she was going to fall in love.
As she knocked on the door, she heard her voice on the other side, telling her to come in. Kara takes another deep breath before opening the door. As she enters, she gives Lena a tentative smile. “Hi…”
Lena is sitting on her bed, wrapped up in a blanket, a book in her lap. The rest of her belongings already packed up, sitting neatly in the corner. She smiles back, softly. “Hey you.”
Kara walks over and sits down next to Lena, who immediately leans into her. Kara wraps her arm around Lena. “No Andrea?” Kara asks, spotting the now empty side of the room.
“She will be back tomorrow for graduation with her family.”
Kara pulls Lena in tighter. Graduation is a difficult topic of discussion. Despite graduating two years ahead of the average person, the Luthor’s couldn’t be bothered to attend. Not even Lex. He was too busy making some big announcement for the family company. Which is why Lena decided not to attend graduation either. Instead, she is leaving for MIT tomorrow morning, having enrolled in some early admission summer courses for honor students. She will be getting a jump on her college education.
They sit in silence, holding each other for several long minutes. Kara knows they must have this conversation. It was an unspoken agreement between them, ever since they both knew where the other was going for college, that they would focus on the present and enjoy the time they have together. But now, they were out of time.
Kara reaches out with her hand and intertwines their fingers. The intensity of how much she is going to miss this, miss Lena, miss holding her, miss talking to her, miss… everything about her, is almost overwhelming.
“Kara, darling, I can practically hear your mind turning,” Lena says, lifting her head from Kara’s shoulder to look her in the eyes.
Kara half-smiles. “I was just… thinking about the whole… Right person, wrong time storyline in books and movies.”
She nearly melts right then and there, when Lena’s brow arches high. “Oh, really now?” She is trying to sound playful and light, but her voice betrays her, cracking just the slightest.
Kara leans forward so her head is resting again Lena’s. Her eyes closing as she fights back the tears. “You are going to be amazing at MIT next year, Lee.”
“Kara… We… we don’t have to-”
Lena feels Kara shake her head slightly. “We do, Lena. I need to say it. You are going to be at total badass at MIT. It is exactly where you need to be. It has always been your dream, your goal. And it is going to set you up for an amazingly bright future. I would never stand in the way of that. Nor would I ever ask you to forsake it.”
Kara sniffles, still fighting back the tears.
By now, tears are finding their way down Lena’s cheek. Her hand gentle cups Kara’s face. “And… and you need to be at NCU, Kara. I… I know that they have one of the best journalism schools… and your scholarship there… you can’t turn that down… plus your sister is there. You need to go and pursue your dreams too, Kara.”
A quiet but harsh chuckle escapes Kara. “It just really sucks that in order to pursue our goals, we have to break our own hearts.”
Lena tilts her head slightly and kisses Kara, softly, lovingly. As she pulls away just a few inches, she says, “I know darling. Just like I know that neither of us would let the other one sacrifice their own goals and their own dreams for the other. It’s too big of a price to pay and we would end up resenting each other for it. And we love each other entirely too much to do that to us or to each other.”
Kara nods before pulling Lena back in for another kiss, this one longer and deeper than the last. As Kara pulls away, slowly, she finally lets her own tears run freely. “So… tomorrow, we just, part ways? That’s it?”
Lena swallows the lump in her throat. “A clean break is best, we both know this, Kara.”
“But…” Kara says, attempting to find some logical reason to hang on to what they have.
“Kara.” It’s said barely above a whisper but said firmly.
“Lena,” she counters, though she can’t help the smile that sneaks onto her face as she says it, clearly reminiscent of their previous moments of witty banter.
Lena can’t help but smile either. “I love you, Kara.”
“Always, Lena, always.”
They spend the rest of the evening and night together, wanting to show one another just how much they love each other.
-----------
When Lena wakes up early the next day, she is still wrapped up in Kara’s arms. Her favorite place to be, the one place she has felt safe in her life, really, since joining the Luthor family.
Her phone vibrates from the bedside nightstand, letting her know that her driver has arrived.
She kisses Kara on the temple as her hand runs through golden blond hair.
“Hm… it’s too early,” comes Kara’s sleepy reply.
Lena smiles, soaking in her last time waking up next to Kara and how adorably cute she is, this way, still mostly asleep.
She kisses her again, this time on the forehead. She then peppers Kara with kisses slowly, down from her forehead until she is on her lips.
As she pulls away, blue eyes finally greet her, with Kara being more awake. She smiles, but then frowns. “It’s time?”
Lena nods. “I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me if I left without saying goodbye,” she then says.
Kara thinks about responding in a jovial, lighthearted manner, but her heart isn’t in it. So instead, she sits up and pulls Lena into a hug, silently thanking her for giving her this goodbye.
“I can walk you down, help with your stuff?” Kara asks as they pull away. Lena smiles graciously as they both put on clothes and shoes.
It’s slow, or at least time has appeared to slow down, as they make their way out of the dorm room and down to the car that awaits Lena. Her driver, who she hasn’t seen in several months, greets her with a warm smile before taking her bags to put away. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says, eyeing Lena and Kara. He quickly loads up the bags before getting into the car.
Kara can’t help but pull Lena into a hug. “Thank you for the best year of my life, Lee. You’ve made this place feel like home.” Kara doesn’t have it in her to tell Lena the truth without completing breaking down. She is certain that if she voices it, says out loud that Lena feels like home, that she might just completely lose it.
In response, Lena pulls Kara into a fierce kiss.
As they finally pull away, Lena’s head rests against hers. “Always, Kara, always.”
And with that, Lena turns and makes the ten-foot walk to the car, sliding into the back. Kara watches her go, tears in her eyes. She watches as the car drives down the winding path back to the road, back to the real world, where Lena will go on to do incredible things, Kara just knows it.
That doesn’t stop her heart from breaking, of course.
As she makes her way inside, she gathers the rest of her things out of Lena’s now empty room and makes her way back to her own room. As she does, her phone vibrates with new messages.
One of course, is from her sister.
Alex: About to take off! See you this afternoon! Yay graduation!
The other, is from Lena.
My heart: I love you. Go and be amazing. Remember what we agreed. Clean break. I’m deleting your information after I send this. <3
Kara lets out a shaky breath as she types a reply.
Kara: I look forward to hearing about all the awards you win as you solve science. Clean break, as promised. Deleting your contact now. <3
Kara sends the message and immediately does as she says, her thumb hovering over the delete contact button. She really does debate not doing it. But she also knows that if she doesn’t do it, she will definitely reach out to Lena. She is entirely too weak not too. And that wasn’t the agreement. She can’t do that to Lena. She knows that.
She hits the delete button. And then deletes their text chain too.
Kara plops down on her bed and lets herself cry until she can’t cry anymore.
It’s lunch time when she finally gets up and starts preparing for graduation and the arrival of Eliza and Alex. She packs up her belongings, showers, and puts back on her cheery, always sunny, Kara Danvers mask.
She never told them about Lena. She wasn’t really sure how to explain it. And being so far away from them, well, it was easy enough to avoid doing. What she had with Lena was special, so unique, she didn’t want to spoil it by outside influence.
So, when they show up that afternoon, Kara is happy and excited to see her family and to celebrate a successful year at boarding school. Alex is doubly excited to have Kara joining her in National City. The sisters quickly find themselves falling into sync again. And Kara’s heart feels just the tiniest bit better. She can do this, with her sister by her side. She just hopes that Lena finds someone at MIT, too.
As Kara leaves Mount Helena Boarding School that evening, she has the tiniest bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end of her story with Lena. That maybe, one day, her and Lena will meet again. And when that happens, maybe it will finally be the right time for them.
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Just realized I never posted this during LB3 despite the fact that I had some very Thematic Brainwaves about my Mastersona, Yu, Koyanskaya and of course Diarmuid. Under the read more if you are interested -
Koyanskaya savored the looks on their faces as they beheld the vial.
One dose of antidote. The only contingency plan.
It didn’t take long for the realization to sink in, but Koyanskaya quickly added, “Oh, and don’t even think about splitting it between the pair of you. The poison is well-integrated into your system now. You’ll require the full dosage if you even hope to have a chance at surviving.”
Goredolf’s pale, sweating face was a special treat. Either he was a bigger idiot than Koyanskaya had thought, or he was a true mage, who didn’t realize that Zoe Venier would probably let him take the antidote without much fuss if he only had the sense to ask.
Poor girl, Koyanskaya thought, smiling faintly as she watched Zoe attempt to school her features into stoicism. It didn’t come naturally to her, that was for sure. She was a quiet girl, normally, though she’d been known to display quite the temper. But in the face of her own death... Oh, she was frightened. Even after all this time, after all she’d survived. Perhaps she was more frightened than ever before.
But the ensuing squabble quickly lost its spice for Koyanskaya. Goredolf suggested that they duel with rock-paper-scissors. Zoe, with a wry, faint smile, accepted. While they haggled over terms, Koyanskaya decided that she ought not to waste her time. Bound, sitting in the dirt, surrounded by enemies, fresh out of the eternal Shi Huangdi’s torture chambers - it wasn’t like she had anything else to do but gather more intel in her condition. Even if she would inevitably turn against Chaldea later, she should learn all she could about such a valuable client.
There were many Servants with Zoe this time - a surprising number, actually, considering the amount of mana it would likely take to sustain them. Given her present condition, she surely was feeling the strain of it. But of the motley crew, there was only one that Koyanskaya didn’t really know yet.
And just her luck, he stood over her side, guarding her.
Diarmuid ua Duibhne, Lancer. According to the records that they’d obtained from Chaldea, he was one of Zoe Venier’s original three Servants. He was not spectacular, a thoroughly average hero from an obscure legend. Koyanskaya wasn’t in the business of underestimating anyone but even she took one look at his perfect, beautiful face and dismissed him.
But he’d changed.
He had not disappeared, nor had Zoe re-summoned him. He had simply changed at some point, not long after Koyanskaya had left the Scandinavian Lostbelt. Rather than the famous twin spears, he now carried two blades, one of which was nearly as tall as he was and radiated a positively demonic aura. His combat parameters seemed to have expanded somewhat due to the class change, but otherwise, there was nothing different about him. But a normal Servant changing themselves was impossible, and this was doubly true for Diarmuid ua Duibhne, who had been defined by his curses, if by nothing else.
Koyanskaya had been wrong to ignore him, that was for sure.
But she was big enough to admit that. Now it was time to have some fun.
Eyeing him, she spoke with a sweet idleness. “You know, I really have to wonder if she’s feeling the affects of the poison or not.”
Diarmuid kept his eyes squarely on Zoe. It didn’t take a genius detective to know that she was his ultimate weakness, in all the ways that mattered.
“I mean,” Koyanskaya continued, with a smile. “What’s her body count at now? Well, the last one is easy, just ten thousand, but we never did get an accurate estimate of the Yaga population, come to think of it. Does it count if they were technically beasts? What do you think?”
He didn’t even react to her words. It was not in Koyanskaya’s nature to crave attention from beautiful men, but the silent treatment annoyed her. It almost wounded her pride.
“In any case, do you want to hear my theory?” Koyanskaya looked up, putting all her weight into her gaze. “I think that - despite all the blood on her hands - Zoe simply believes that everything she’s done has been completely justified. That’s why she isn’t showing any symptoms. Can you imagine? Obliterating entire worlds, entire cultures, erasing it from existence, from memory. For that not to bother her in the slightest - it’s chilling! Do you think that maybe she even enjoys - “
“It seems to me,” said Diarmuid, “that you fundamentally misunderstand who we are.”
Koyanskaya smiled. “Oh?”
“For example,” Diarmuid went on, still watching Zoe and Goredolf. They were nearly ready to begin their matches now. “When you mocked the Director before, I thought you had simply picked him out to be an easy target. Someone with his disposition must be child’s play for you, naturally. But now you’ve admitted that you don’t understand the first thing about Zoe, either.”
“Why, perish the thought!” Koyanskaya simpered, baring her teeth in a wicked grin. “I pride myself on my information-gathering efforts, you know.”
Diarmuid shrugged. “I would have assumed that you weren’t capable of understanding humanity, given what you are. But if you can’t even grasp the basics about someone like Zoe, then maybe we don’t need to be worried about you after all.”
But this was too good to be true. Koyanskaya tried to think back - had she ever revealed to Chaldea that she was a Beast? Perhaps Holmes had figured it out, or even the little Da Vinci, but this was the first time they had all been together since Shi Huangdi had separated the group, and they were preoccupied with the antidote. There was no way that Diarmuid could have known her true nature, unless he had recognized it on his own.
“I guess that’s true,” said Koyanskaya. “I wouldn’t know her nearly as well as someone like you. After all, you’re her loyal Servant - the perfect knight who services her every need.”
At last, Diarmuid deigned to look at her. His expression was withering. Not outright murderous, but he definitely contemplated the idea of drawing his swords. And in her current condition, Moralltach might even damage her if he really threw his weight into the strike. But naturally, he wouldn’t. His honor wouldn’t allow him to strike a prisoner, and to strike such a powerful blow would drain too much mana from his precious Zoe.
Speaking of which, they seemed to be at the last round. Zoe was patting Goredolf’s arm reassuringly as he blabbered.
“Look! They’re nearly done. Aren’t you going to stop them?”
Diarmuid sighed, and faced away from her again. “Forgive me, but may I ask if there’s a point to this conversation?”
“Obviously, Zoe wants to take the antidote herself,” said Koyanskaya, as if he hadn’t spoken. “She’s a pragmatist. I almost admire that about her, you know. But she’ll give the antidote to Goredolf out of fairness - because it’s the right thing to do - even though she knows as well as I do that Chaldea needs its only Master far more than it needs an oaf of a Director. And what? You’re just going to it back and let that happen?”
Predictably, Diarmuid replied. “In fact, her sense of honor is something that I greatly admire about her. And just because you do not recognize the Director’s value doesn’t mean he has none.”
Koyanskaya clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re like a fortress. Don’t you ever get tired of playing fair?”
When he didn’t answer her, Koyanskaya pretended to think about her next words for a moment.
“Hmm... well, I guess you’re not totally out of options. I guess if you’re going to let this antidote go to waste, you could always just take her to your father’s house if you can’t find another dose.”
The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
Got him, thought Koyanskaya, and smiled.
“Oh, no, dear me, you’re right,” Koyanskaya went on, barely concealing her elation. “That won’t do. Not really his wheelhouse, I’d say. Well, it’s not as if you don’t have other options. Though, come to think of it, you’ve never really been the type to introduce a girl to your family.”
Diarmuid was staring at her, his mouth a thin line, his eyes unfathomable.
Koyanskaya smirked back. “What? Don’t  you think Aengus Og would be just thrilled to have guests? I hear it’s lovely in Tir na Nog this time of year. Well, it’s always lovely, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”
The temperature adjusted; Diarmuid’s expression stabilized, and became bored again.
“Congratulations,” he said. “Though I’m not sure what you hope to gain by lording this information over me. I have no power within Chaldea’s internal structure, and I won’t act without my Master’s permission.”
The sarcasm in his voice was simply delicious. Koyanskaya leaned in.
“What I don’t understand is why someone like you would become a Servant in the first place. Why surrender yourself to the Counter Force when you could spend an eternity in paradise? And it’s not as if you could possibly have any reasons to love humanity. You might not have as many curses as our mutual friend Yu, but...”
She waited eagerly for him to respond, but he simply regarded her carefully for a moment. Koyanskaya was thrilled to learn how smart he was. In fact, he suited his Master very well. Quiet and observant. The shadow of the blade. The steady right hand. And he was far less human than he’d allowed Chaldea to believe. Did Zoe even know the truth?
In any case, Koyanskaya hoped that Holmes was listening to their conversation.
“I have no reason to curse humanity,” came Diarmuid’s reply. “Again, you show a lack of understanding. I simply followed the natural course of my fate.”
Goredolf lost the final round of rock-paper-scissors, but Nezha and Mordred held him down so that Da Vinci could inoculate him anyway. While he blubbered thanks and took dramatic, gasping breaths, Koyanskaya watched Zoe Venier. Watched her smile disappear for a moment. Watched her push her glasses up her nose, and twirl a lock of her long hair around her fingers. For a moment, the Master of Chaldea was nothing but a sad, frightened little girl.
And if Koyanskaya had noticed, then surely, so had Diarmuid.
“Oh, what to do, what to do...?” she murmured. A giggle worked its way up her throat, and she had to suppress it. “Now, I say this with all possible manner of feminine delicacy - but you guys are royally fucked. Humanity’s a lost cause, and that’s even if you somehow manage to find a second antidote. Your merry band of heroes hasn’t even gotten to the real Lostbelts yet. If my half-assed assassination attempt can knock you back this far, then how do you expect to face the rest of the Crypters?”
“We’ve faced steep odds before. I have nothing but confidence in Zoe, and in our allies.”
Koyanskaya shook her head. “I seriously can’t believe you. You have a get-out-of-the-apocalypse-free card at your beck and call.”
“That’s not how it works.”
His voice contained a hard edge now. She’d touched a nerve.
“Then, enlighten me. Because you know as well as I do - taking Zoe into the Land of Youth would end all of this. What do you care for humanity’s survival? She would never suffer again. Isn’t that what you wish for?”
She saw his eyes glint, shift for a fraction of a second, and that was how she knew she’d won. No matter how noble he pretended to be, there was still a part of him that had understandable human instincts. Fortunately for his sake, Diarmuid was spared from answering as Zoe herself approached, to engage Koyanskaya in conversation regarding their upcoming plans.
The knight was quiet, and kept one eye on her constantly going forward.
All in all, Koyanskaya considered this a resounding success.
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Text
Lightened Shadows Chapter 2
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AU: Final Fantasy 4
Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @otomehideout-indecentconfessions @file-missing​ @risefallrise​
Rating: M
Potential Triggers: Pretty descriptive fantasy violence this time around(boss fights will hopefully always be this well written; I’m real proud with how the scene came out so I hope you like it). 
Pairing: Ever-evolving :)
Genre:  Drama, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort
Length: 6.2k+
The air was cool from the little you could feel thanks to your armor but you knew it’d heat up quickly thanks to the sun. Thankfully, it hadn’t risen too much given how early it was. 
“Shall we stop in town first?”
Yoongi stopped you as you turned in the direction towards where the cave you needed to go through waited with a gentle hand on your arm, your armor clanking at the contact.
“Hm? Didn’t you say you already got provisions just this past nightfall?”
He smirked sheepishly and shrugged.
“I may have forgotten in the midst of the men celebrating my victory in our spat. Apologies. Shall we?”
You nodded, barely holding back a sigh. 
‘As if I don’t feel bad enough. Now I have to go get supplies and probably scar a few children in the process with my intimidating appearance. Spectacular.’ 
You entered the quaint little village just diagonal to the castle gates and looked around, trying to go through the brief list of what you needed in your mind. 
‘It should be a short expedition; 2 days at most, 3 if we stop to pitch a tent after delivering the ring to get their explanation once you entered the village.’
 You were sure you wouldn’t be welcome there for long. The town of Mist was known for little else than their reclusive nature and had never been particularly fond of those that hailed from Baron, so perhaps best you purchase one just in case they wouldn’t let you stay at the inn as you feared.
Yoongi led the way to the item shop and offered you a wave as he ran off somewhere; probably to attend to some last-minute errand he’s forgotten about. 
“How can I help you today, my Lady?” 
It was a quick transaction; you luckily had plenty of gil to spare thanks to the 500 gil provisions the King’s guard had insisted you take, along with 5 Potions and a Phoenix Down should the worst come to befall one of you in battle. You bought one more Phoenix Down for good measure in addition to that Tent and exited looking around to see Yoongi’s distinctly teal armor. He’d always hated that ugly green the other Dragoons were forced to wear, so he’d had Jin help him create his own armor once he'd been promoted to Captain.
Having experience building airships was surprisingly helpful in creating armor that could withstand some damn mighty blows apparently. 
You exited the shop looking around for Yoongi carelessly as you walked through the town, trying to not draw any attention to yourself; only to look down in surprise at a sudden banging from your armor being hit repeatedly. A small boy was there, angrily pounding on your armor with tears streaming down his face. 
“You took my Daddy away!! I hate you!”
A wince graced your face behind your mask and for once you lowered it, kneeling to the boys’ height and gently restraining his hands firmly in your own. You had no choice but to take many people to the guards if they happened to be foolish enough to run into you. It had been one of the ways you’d rose in rank so quickly; catching criminals. But...it never made it any easier to see the carnage left in the wake of your actions. 
“...I’m sorry. I know there is naught I can say to soothe your pain, but all I can do is apologize. I had a duty to fulfill, and I did as was necessary.” 
The child sniffled, but the hatred once in his eyes had died down to a mere simmer. 
“You don’t seem so mean. Please miss...I just want my Daddy back. Mommy said he’s served all his time; can’t you get him for me? I promise I’ll work doubly hard to ensure we’re never poor enough to have to steal again!”
He seemed so proud, puffing his chest out, and as you released his hands he placed them on his hips in a show of how strong he could and would be. 
A glance upwards saw his Mother suddenly rushing towards you both and the woman was on the floor on her knees, hands, and head both level to the ground at your feet. 
“Please Lady Captain! Forgive my boy! He means no harm!” 
Your heart clenched as you stood and the boy seemed distressed, seemingly coming to the conclusion that you were leaving as he grabbed onto your arm. 
“Miss, please! His name is Raisoro. Even if it's not today please at least look for him when next you return to the castle!”
You noticed Yoongi waiting as the crowd parted and knew you'd have to make this quick. He'd never been good with this kind of situation. 
You nodded resolutely, meeting the boy’s eyes.
"I swear it on my role as a Dark Knight…"
You met the mother's eyes too as your gaze softened behind your visor and you helped her to her feet. 
"And as someone who also loves another. I will check and return for you once I next visit the castle. I have a mission to do before that so it may take some time but-"
"Thank you Lady Captain! You're so gracious!" 
The mother was barely holding herself together at your words and you squeezed her hand briefly before you pulled away after a ruffle of the boy's hair and made your way to Yoongi who was looking on in solemn understanding. 
"...Dare I ask?"
"The boy's father has been in prison past his sentence, caught stealing food for his family. I promised I'd check once we got back."
Yoongi glanced at you from his place beside you as a chuckle escaped him. 
You felt your cheeks heat and huffed defensively. 
"What's so funny!?"
He shrugged with a fond smile as he shook his head. 
"Still too kind for your own good is all. Could have been a lie, an attempt to steal money, or a ploy to stir up rebellion in the town against the King starting with you by using a young boy but you responded so genuinely that even if that's what it was it backfired miserably."
He snickered a bit more, a rare sound to be sure for most but you enjoyed it nonetheless even as you blushed.
"It's my job as Lady Captain. I may serve the Red Wings but the townspeople are my concern too. I guess it probably seems silly since you're of the Dragoon branch, only responsible for protecting the castle and monster patrol.” 
His laughter died but you caught the amused smirk at his lips.
“All the better for me. People can be complicated whereas fiends are useful for little more than target practice and exercises to bring my jumps to larger heights.” 
You shoved him playfully with a roll of your eyes.
“Alright hotshot; that’s enough bragging. Did you do your little errand? I want to check in with Hoseok’s Mom while we’re here. You know how worried he can get about her when he gets stuck at the castle healing overnight.”
Yoongi seemed to hesitate at that but reluctantly nodded and let you lead him to the small house towards the center of the village where Hoseok’s mom had received her own home after Hoseok had received his white cape as proof he was a Baron White Mage. You knocked on the door and after a moment it swung open to reveal Hoseok’s mother. You smiled kindly, mouth guard already lowered out of respect even as she glared at you disapprovingly. 
“What do you two want!?” 
“I just wanted to check in on you. Hoseok wanted to ensure you were eating enough and healthy.” 
She huffed irritably and leaned against the doorjamb as Yoongi shifted uncomfortably beside you, causing her gaze to briefly shift to him before going back to you. 
“I’m doing just fine; no thanks to you. His Majesty’s recent behavior troubles me. I heard you and your boy there have been doing some just terrible things, under his orders or no. All I want is Hoseok to be safe from such gory acts and that’s your job as his lover.” The glare she gave Yoongi did not go unnoticed by you and you noted the way his whole body tensed and his mouth went in a firm straight line. “And that goes for any kind of hurt. Have I made myself clear?”
You maintained your amicable smile even as it felt like you’d just been speared through the heart. Your voice was unbearably soft as you responded, cursing the way it wavered. 
“O-Of course madam. I will protect him till my very last breath if I must. I would happily absolve any pain he has experienced or will in the future if I was only able, so he wouldn’t have to shoulder an ounce of suffering.”
She nodded and raised her chin in superior pride at your answer before she nodded curtly. 
“Good. Ensure your feelings forever remain so stalwart; as do your ideals or the world may lose one Dark Knight.”
With that, the door slammed shut, and the sting of her obvious distrust bordering on rejection cut deep as you all but stumbled away with Yoongi hot on your heels as you made your way through the little alcove at the back of the village to the river where you knew no-one would be. 
You were barely maintaining the lid on your emotions but at the sight of your glassy gaze, Yoongi couldn’t withhold his ire and hissed through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists.
“Who does she think she is talking down to you like that!? Hoseok and you have been together for how many years now? 3?” 
He snarled as he whirled to grip your shoulders unintentionally being a bit rough, not that it made a difference thanks to the armor guarding your shoulders, careful to avoid the spikes. 
“She even dared to imply you of all people would be unfaithful. After everything you’ve been through with Hoseok and me, it just-” 
He inhaled sharply to try and gather himself and his eyes rushed to yours at your watery giggle. 
“Is something humorous?”
He certainly didn’t find any amusement in this.
You smiled weakly. 
“I just find this all morbidly ironic. I told Hoseok just last night how cowardly I was and it seems even his mother agrees.” 
Yoongi wrenched himself away from you with a hiss, eyes narrowing. 
“You? A coward? That is comical.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand. I obeyed His Majesty’s orders without a second thought. I harmed innocent people-”
“Except they’re not innocent. You seem to be forgetting that. His Majesty explicitly said they knew too much of the Crystal and its secrets-”
“And what gives him the right to decide that!? It’s not our culture or our way of life!! We’ve been focused on technological advancement rather than the power of the crystals for decades...why now does His Majesty seem so intent on them!?”
You covered your mouth in horror at the treasonous words that escaped your lips, and Yoongi had gone eerily still as well before he quickly looked around for any potential eavesdroppers. 
Seeing none, he lowered his voice and frowned seriously at you once again placing his hand on your shoulder. You could see the weight of your words had made their mark from the grim look in his eyes. So it troubled him too. You always knew he was a good actor but his emotionlessness towards this subject, in particular, had admittedly made you feel isolated in your beliefs. Sure, you’d heard the rumors, but they hadn’t been raised by His Majesty as you had. Their opinion simply didn’t hold the same weight as Yoongi or Hoseok’s would. In any case, Yoongi’s low drawl of your name made your eyes lock onto his. 
“They were deceitful and thankfully His Royal Highness caught it in time before they began a rampage against the whole Blue Planet. Let us be grateful for that and move on. Yes?”
Hesitance shown in your eyes but you swallowed back the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue and nodded. No time to wallow in any case; you had Hoseok to get home to. 
“Enough talk. Let us depart for Mist."
Yoongi finally seemed appeased and he watched as you raised your mouthguard once again though he didn’t comment on it as you both exited the little alcove at the back of the town, only for Yoongi to bump right into a familiar girl. 
“June! How’re things?”
You easily put on a mask of ease, though at the younger girl’s giddy grin you found it wasn’t difficult. 
“Oh, it’s been just peachy! You know Jin...always working! But he came home last night so to reward him I’m baking him his favorite pumpkin pie for when he finally wakes up.”
“He still hasn’t awoken? It’s only a little past dawn but I’ve seen him working well past this just last week…” 
Yoongi mused and you saw the twist of a smirk on his lips when you shot him a knowing glare. 
June huffed at that, shaking her head in disappointment. 
“I’m gonna wring that old man's neck one of these days, mark my words! He works too hard...we’re not that hurting for gil.”
Her last phrase was little more than a mumble but your hand was already reaching for your gil pouch before you could even consciously think. As if anticipating your movements though, Yoongi took a step forward, hand already outstretched with a small pouch, filled to the brim and neatly tied off. 
At June’s wide-eyed hesitance, Yoongi cut her off as she opened her mouth, no doubt to refuse. 
“You’d best take it before a pickpocket does. I’ll remain standing like this until the gil is taken.”
His voice was a low rumble, despite his words as he clearly wanted her to have it, not some thief, and all three of you knew even should he keep his word like you knew he would, he’d merely reclaim his gil and find some other way to give it to the family, perhaps by smuggling it into Jin’s biweekly wages.
June finally took the pouch, and you felt a little misty-eyed as you watched her throw her arms around Yoongi, taking the Dragoon Captain by surprise and making him stumble and fumble to return her gesture of affection with an awkward pat on her back. 
“Y-Yes yes of course, now just release me, will you? People are staring.”
He grumbled, and you were sure without his mask he’d be red as a beet by now. 
Yoongi grew serious, however, and gently caught June’s hand as she went to run off after thanking him profusely. 
“I want you to be sure you go right on home and hide that somewhere nice and secure. Only take what you need and then return to the markets. I don’t want you being targeted for fraternizing with the likes of us. And…” He hesitated but finally handed her something else you couldn’t see as he stepped into her space as he abruptly tugged her into a proper hug. 
“Take that as well. Use it only if you must.” 
He mumbled something else by her ear and then just as quickly pulled away. June looked flustered as well, a little nervous and as Yoongi rejoined you, you side-eyed him with a hint of mirth in your gaze. You were positive he could feel it and eventually after a minute of walking towards the exit he hissed only once you’d both been alone for several minutes.
“What?”
You offered a simple hum. 
“Hm? Oh, I’m just recalling a certain Dragoon mocking me not an hour ago for being too kind. Yet here you are, giving away money I know you’d been saving up for that new lance you wanted. You even gave her a weapon by the looks of it.”
Your voice quieted for that last part as you drew closer to him to whisper and he merely sighed in resignation at that. 
“Of course you noticed. Always so knowing, aren’t you? June deserves to eat. Did you not also happen to notice the flatness of her gil pouch? You know how much they’ve been inflating prices.”
You blinked at that in surprise.
“The item shop charged me the same rate as always. I had no idea…”
Yoongi snorted at that, cool and sarcastic. 
“Of course they would. You’re the King’s guard dog, they know better than to draw your, or my ire. But the townspeople? They are not so lucky. There is a reason people like that family who pleaded with you have had to turn to stealing and they are but one of many.”
“And here I thought I was knowledgeable on the way our people were treated...how do you know all this?” 
Yoongi shrugged. 
“My men have families here; unlike the Red Wings who’re typically born into the military, the Dragoons have always been expected to be enlisters. The practice may have died some with the passage of time but it is still a thing of the present and I asked a few of them to report to me. I pay them a little extra on the side and they know I’m not a turncoat despite being close to His Majesty. You’re the first one I’ve told, actually and I know well enough you’re as good for your silence as I.”
This new information made dread sit heavy in the pit of your stomach. First a degradation of the King’s morality, and now even Baron’s shopkeepers were turning against civilians? You froze for a moment and swallowed nervously. Your King. He was your king still. The just and firm but kind man who’d raised you into the woman you had become. Deep breaths. All would be forgiven and explained when you returned. You were sure of it. Yoongi had said so and he was always right. You just had to have faith. You and Yoongi reached the gate and you looked to him as you ensured your armor was tightened and your sword scabbard ready to give you access to your sword at a moment's notice. 
He too had done his checks and nodded at you, mouth now in a stern frown as he readied himself with grim determination for the journey ahead. 
After a shared nod at one another, you both stepped out into the overworld and began making your way to the Cave of Mist. 
The monsters had been gradually growing more and more feral as the years had gone on. Now they were violently beyond reason, willing to strike at a moment’s notice; including those who didn’t pose a threat. You remembered a simpler time where more docile monsters had been used to train even children, including yourself, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Now, it was a risk of death every time trade happened. Perhaps it was a good thing tensions were so high between the nations nowadays.
In any case, Yoongi and yourself were trained to fight and take out even the most intelligent of monsters thanks to being taught the ways of the sword and lance respectively by your King. Yoongi also had his father for a time to fall back on before he perished. Most monsters seemed to catch onto this and kept their distance from you both, but those either too foolish or too hungry to care still attacked. You remained unscathed, your armor keeping you safe from a particularly volatile Sword rat, the purple beast expelling it’s sharp spines your way. Even bringing up your shield, a few broke through your defenses and you couldn’t help your wince as they made contact with a harsh reverberation as they hit your chest and legs.
Yoongi took a risk and threw his spear at the beast and thankfully it cried out in pain before finally going limp.  He retrieved his weapon and shot a smirk your way, and claimed you’d owe him a drink once you returned to Baron.
That was the only incident you had come across until you reached the cave itself. Since most monsters knew better than to start a fight with you both, you hoped those dwelling within the Cave of Mist would have the same ideas. 
Oh, how wrong you were. 
The larvae and eyewing moths inhabiting the cave were particularly irritating. The moths liked to blind you and the larvae loved to use slow, only prolonging their inevitable deaths. Blind was always a pain to deal with; you both being melee attackers and all. Sure, spell casters and mages were affected as well, but oftentimes they could locate the monsters or other teammates thanks to locking onto their energy if they were fast enough. No such luck here. 
Still, you managed to take them out. However, something strange had occurred, twice now which was not to your liking.
 A voice had called out to you, ghostly and ominous, ordering you both to return whence you came. It had no discernable gender, but the lilt underneath the words made you guess it may have been female. 
Could this be the Eidolon you’d been sent to slay? 
Despite the constant feeling of being watched, the journey through the cave was not a difficult one and you sensed no malice from the entity. Not until you reached the cave’s exit in any case. 
“You are not welcome beyond this point, swine of Baron. Return to your castle and leave this place in peace.”
You frowned at that, ring sitting heavily in its own dedicated pouch at your hip and the image of Hoseok’s worried face in your mind. 
“We can’t do that. Please, I beg you allow us refuge. We have a mission we must see through!”’
“As do I. I take it you mean to refuse my plea then?”
The voice had gained an aggressive but defeated edge and Yoongi stepped forward, all cocky indifference. 
“We have given you your answer.”
“...Very well. Then you leave me with no choice. Forgive me.”
With that, the mist that had not aided your journey in the least began coalescing and you both drew your weapons in preparation. 
A pink scaled dragon had appeared in front of you, and you and Yoongi could both sense the difference in power compared to the weak monsters thus far. You’d used up what little Eye Drops you’d had in stock, and now only had 2 Potions after healing at the slightest injury earlier, thinking you’d had plenty. Luckily you still had both Phoenix Downs should one of you fall unconscious before the other. 
You shared a look with Yoongi and he nodded in understanding, before hopping up and continuing to move from rock to rock, trying to get as much height as possible to come down all the harder on your enemy. Not one to be left out, you turned your attention to the battle, knowing full well you were the only remaining target, and steeled yourself, letting dark energy surround you as you carefully fed just enough of yourself into your attacks to power them up while not causing too much physical damage to yourself. 
It still made you wince and caused an off sensation within your soul whenever you chose to use Darkness but the King always said the payoff would be worth it if the enemy went down. 
Said enemy roared in frustration and swung a large claw at you which you barely managed to dodge before slashing, watching as darkness coated the wound you’d left, seeping in and making it hurt all the more. Your eyes widened in surprise as before you could hop back the creature snarled and jumped, shoving you to the ground with its claws and holding you there as its face lowered towards your vulnerable frame. 
Yoongi couldn’t have chosen a better time to come, slamming down onto the back of the beast, spearing the Eidolon with as much force as he could muster. You watched as blood gushed, ignoring the confusion that hit you at seeing the substance to instead take its momentary preoccupation with Yoongi as it tried to bite him off of its back to get ahold of your sword and stabbing its foot to make it release you. 
It let out a wail of pain, and you knew you were close. Yoongi deftly hopped off and dragged you out from under the creature, tossing you a Potion before he unleashed a flurry of passionate slashes to keep the monster engaged and focused on him. You quickly slammed your mouth guard down and chugged the bitter liquid with a gag and a grimace, feeling the physical aching and the toll on your soul both fade as you regained full lucidity. 
You shook off your daze and felt the power of Darkness fade as fast as it had arrived. Better not to use it twice in one battle and from the way the beast had slowed it seemed the battle was finally coming to an end.
Yoongi was holding his own quite well; he’d always been the more nimble out of the two of you what with having to find the perfect openings to Jump and all and he’d already managed to push the creature back some so you could recover in peace. 
“Shall we finish this?”
He asked gruffly, panting. 
You nodded, but as you went to strike now that it was cornered it suddenly...dissipated into mist? 
Well, that just wasn’t fair. 
“You will pay for that…”
The ominous threat was made good on and you gasped as a snow-like substance slowly fell around you and Yoongi. You fell to your knees at the freezing cold that enveloped you. Damn. This was why you loathed magic attacks. No matter what armor you wore it mattered not. 
You saw Yoongi go down out of the corner of your eye and lunged with a cry of pure, unadulterated fear as the monster came into existence once again and made as if to strike him. 
Claws raked across your back and again, your armor or no, you felt the impact and the pain shortly after, even with the adrenaline coursing through you. You were both going to die entirely if you didn’t do something now. 
You tossed a Phoenix Down over Yoongi, knowing it’d take a moment for the bird of resurrections feathers to revitalize his life force once again, and stood defensively in front of him. A snarl turned your face to something ugly and you hissed at the monster. 
“You want him? Then you’ve got to get through me first!!”
Your cry clearly met its mark as the creature roared in ire at being provoked and you neatly dodge rolled to avoid being hit as it attempted to catch you in its claws, scrambling for your item pouch. You shoved the last Potion’s contents down your throat before you let the power of Darkness surround you one final time, ready to sacrifice whatever was necessary of yourself to ensure Yoongi survived. He wouldn’t have much HP left - that Phoenix Down would only get him conscious and all it would take was one good hit for him to go down permanently. Just as you narrowed your eyes in concentration and went to swing downwards, Yoongi let out an abrupt shout and finished his final Jump; using the last remnants of his own power to finish the battle once and for all before you had the chance. 
The creature roared, in agony this time, and you watched in cold satisfaction as it collapsed to the cave floor in defeat. 
Without so much as a look at the monster that had nearly killed your closest friend you ran over to Yoongi and forced his arm over your shoulder. 
“What are you-?”
“Don’t pretend you aren't barely hanging onto consciousness right now you idiot. I know how Phoenix Downs work. It may revitalize you but it’s only enough to get you off the floor unless you also have a Potion or more on hand.”
You began trudging to the cave’s exit, squinting into the dusk. 
“We’re making a tent for the night, understand? We’ll go to Mist at first light. You’re in no condition to do anything right now besides recover. I’ll take watch after tending to your wounds and you’ll go right to sleep.”
Yoongi chuckled under his breath until he was forced to cough in pain and you frowned in annoyance at him briefly as fresh air greeted you both. It was a welcome change to the musky cave scent you’d both been stuck with for the past many hours you’d been stuck there. That damn mist had definitely cost you time and from how dark it was outside, you’d been there at least half a day. You'd made good time, if nothing else.  
“What’s so funny?”
“You can be such a parent sometimes. I’m fine. Being knocked out happens in fights sometimes. Besides, I managed to save you, didn’t I? I’d say I recovered just fine.”
He muttered cheekily, his voice gruff from being drawn unwillingly out of his unconscious state earlier. 
You grumbled at that. 
“I had it under control. And anyway...it’s dead. That’s all that matters. The only thing left to do now is to give this ring to Mist and see what they make of it. Surely one of them must know, else his Majesty would not have sent us here.”
You gently set Yoongi down onto a grassy hill you’d found, spotting Mist awaiting you both at the bottom. You were a little winded from carrying his weight; like it or not you were smaller and still weaker than him when it came to straight strength. A quick glance around made you relax a little as you sat down as well, taking off your helmet and letting yourself gulp in the fresh air with relief. It really had felt stuffy in that damn cave. Yoongi meanwhile was stripping himself of his armor, and you nodded down towards where a stream flowed steadily into the town. 
“Don’t be afraid to go wash up a little if you’d like once you feel well enough to stand. We can go at dawn as well if you’d prefer, given we’ll be sleeping outside tonight and all.”
Yoongi leveled a glare towards Mist and grumbled as he ran a hand through his messy locks, brushing away the dirt from the cave clinging to his undershirt and pants. 
“It’d be nice if we could just go rest at the inn but I know that’s an impossible venture. Say…” 
He winced as he examined a few of his wounds, mainly scrapes, and bruises but he had a nice long gash on his arm and head bled a bit as well, most likely from when he’d fallen unconscious. 
You could feel your own body aching but tried not to dwell on it, instead rummaging around your item pouch and grabbing a small loaf of bread you'd stashed away and a handkerchief Hoseok always made you carry. A small fond smile twitched onto your lips at the thought of him and you removed your helmet to see better. 
Yoongi had turned his gaze to you curiously, expecting you to stay in your armor in the case of monsters but you sighed at his inquiring gaze as you stood and merely walked over to the log he was sitting on, kneeling in front of him and beginning to dab at his bloody forehead. 
"Silly Dragoon. When will you learn to stop putting yourself at risk huh?"
You pushed the bread into his hands, with your free one continuing to dab at his wound gently. 
"Eat. It'll help you recover faster."
"But what about-" 
"I'm not the one who got knocked out."
You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your face and tilted your head to meet his steely brown gaze. 
"...You'll eat half or I won't so much as touch it."
You groaned as you smacked his hand away, grumbling at him as you uncorked the only Potion you had left and spilled a little onto the cloth to dab onto the cut on his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips as he let out a hiss of pain and clenched his hand into a fist. 
"You're such a child sometimes. Fine, you big baby. Just eat, will you? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I should've picked up White Magic as well just to make up for your recklessness."
Yoongi eyed you over the bread as you sat back and sprawled out on the soft grass and nibbled at your half. 
"Don't act like you're the paragon of strategy. I saw how you were going to foolishly put yourself in a critical state to try and take the Eidolon out. Armor off. I know you're injured too and we still have ¾ of this Potion left."
His eyes narrowed with a little playful sadism and you knew he was looking forward to tending to your wounds as well. 
You smiled with a tinge of nervousness and shook your head. 
"No, I'm fine rea-"
"I will come over there and tug it off myself."
"Y-You're too weak to!"
You challenged in disbelief, calling his bluff. 
His eyes sparkled again and a cheeky grin now adorned his lips as he moved to stand, causing you to squeak and scramble away from him as you fumbled with your armor. 
"A-Alright alright! Sheesh!"
His low voice snickered in amusement as you blushed and reluctantly tugged off the heavy armor pieces. They'd been dented something awful in that fight; you’d need to get it fixed at a blacksmith once you got back to Baron. Still, you had to admit having the added weight off of your tired body was a welcome change. 
You were indeed injured as Yoongi and yourself had both noted and you winced at the gash in your side, not having noticed that the Eidolon must’ve managed to graze your side with its claws, fairly deeply. Your black t-shirt was tattered, barely sticking to your body from sweat and a bit from the blood as well. Your head was pounding too, the cool night air alerting you to just how hard you must’ve hit your head as you went down. 
“Come. Shirt off; that looks deep.”
You jumped a bit in surprise at Yoongi’s voice right by your ear, turning to frown at him over your shoulder. 
“I can take care of it myself Yoongi, you should rest.”
He stared you down until you caved with a huff and shucked off the remnants of your shirt. You made a good choice wearing your more flexible undergarments for activity today in anticipation of fighting. Made this all much more bearable, but Yoongi was resolutely focused on your wound in any case even so. You knew he wouldn’t lay down, let alone sleep until he knew you were at least taken care of. It warmed your heart that he cared for you so. 
That warmth faded to a whimper as gentle fingers brushed along the wound assessing the damage. 
“Apologies. Hm...Come. I want to clean this with water first. It’s deeper than it looks. It’s a good thing I brought that extra shirt with me after all.” 
You felt a little woozy truth be told, but you were still trying to keep yourself together. Yoongi had been knocked out after all. He had to be in worse shape than you. You had to be strong for him. 
Yoongi wasn’t buying it though. His gaze locked onto the way you swayed and when he saw you stutter a step as you went to start moving towards the stream nearby, he was quick to grab his shirt and rush to your side where he steadied you with a warm hand on your upper arm. 
“Idiot. How did you not notice you were losing this much blood?”
You laughed weakly, through the dizziness as Yoongi helped to guide you to the water. 
“Adrenaline is a powerful thing, as Hoseok says. I didn’t even feel it until you made me take off my armor.”
Yoongi growled at that, frustrated as he rushed to clean the wound, uncaring as you flinched at the icy water against your skin. 
"Well, we'll have to pray my actions are enough to keep you from meeting an early demise. I know you're strong but even you are Mortal."
The wound now as clean as it could be without magical help, Yoongi reached over for the Potion at his side and poured ¼ of the contents over the wound itself making you yowl in pain. 
He was too focused on his task to pay much attention, however, pouring the other ½ of the bottle onto his shirt which he pressed tightly to your side. He frowned seriously at you. 
"Hold it there, understand? I'll be back in a moment; I have to grab your armor piece. It'll hold the fabric tightly against the wound for the time being."
You meanwhile were trying to cope with the unbearable stinging. The wound had been deep indeed. You could feel the Potions remnants trying to stitch your body together, to slow the bleeding. It was working, however slow, but Ashura above it hurt. 
Yoongi returned after a time and you were surprised to see he was holding another Potion in hand. 
"How-?"
He frowned coldly as he crouched at your side and you registered he was now fully adorned in his teal armor save for his helmet which he'd taken off once he saw you. 
Your suspicion was confirmed when he wordlessly pressed a familiar earring into your hand. 
"You bloody idiot!!!"
Your voice was a poisonous whisper, not wanting to draw any sleeping monsters as you scowled at him and he numbly handed you the Potion. 
"Drink."
You shook your head. 
"I can't believe you went back to loot that Eidolon Yoongi.  What if you'd awoken a monster and-"
Your voice cracked and Yoongi sighed heavily as he saw angry tears make your eyes glassy. You could be so overemotional. You wore facades well around others but he and Hoseok had always been exceptions. You had no need to worry over him. 
"I'm here, alive and well, am I not? My wounds are light enough that a good night's sleep will be enough. But yours are more serious. I’m not risking losing you for the sake of your pride. Now drink or I’ll make you.” 
His voice lowered an octave at his last sentence and you glowered at him one last time before tossing the Potion back, wincing at the disgusting taste, but sighing in relief as your wound knitted itself back together, speeding up your body's cell regeneration a bit. It was no Hi or even X Potion, but it had sped the process up enough to be sure your body would be fully healed by tomorrow, and at least the bleeding had stopped. A touch of your head and you noted the tingling sensation had faded. Hopefully, any injury you had there had ceased to be as well. 
Yoongi had busied himself with attaching just the armor for your side into place so that the Potion soaked fabric would be held against your skin but he turned his gaze to you as he stood and stretched, once again discarding his armor. 
“Well; that’s enough excitement for one night. I’m going to go rest until we have to rise at first light.  Call if any particularly threatening monsters arise.”
You also stood, your own armor halfway back on as you gently called his name. 
“Yoongi!”
He paused, halfway up the hill. His hair was mussed from his rush to loot the Eidolon for your benefit; his long blond ponytail trailing behind him. Long hair has been a part of Dragoon culture for nearly as long as the profession itself had been. It was as characteristic to the culture as the Monks wearing it short, braided, or not at all. Yoongi had mentioned his father had explained that it was a demonstration of the freedom Dragoons symbolized and always fought for. He turned to look at you and his perceptive brown eyes locked onto your own. 
You smiled kindly, gaze sincere. 
“Thank you. I know I can be…” 
You sheepishly rubbed at the back of your neck. 
“A bit difficult sometimes. I appreciate it, and you.”
Yoongi scoffed but you could now clearly see his cheeks turning red in embarrassment before he whirled to finish his journey back towards camp to hide it. You still caught the fondness of his tone though, despite the playful words.
“Always so soft…”
You watched until you could no longer see him and turned back to your armor, finishing putting it on and tugging your darkened helmet over your head once more. Luckily the night was still with the only sounds you could hear being the stream beside you and the chirping of harmless bugs. The twin moons were both full tonight, illuminating the Blue Planet brilliantly. 
Nevertheless, you decided to do a quick perimeter check deciding your newly healed body could use the movement. It was a peaceful night and you heard the faint crackling of torches as you neared the entrance to Mist. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you watched a young girl run to the river, bucket in one hand and a cloth handmade doll in the other haphazardly sewn together. 
She seemed panicked and you faintly heard her voice carry to where you stood just beyond the tree line. 
“Agh I can’t believe I forgot to restock!! Mom’s gonna kill me!!”
She finally managed to get the bucket full but you winced sympathetically as in her rush she tumbled over the bucket and sent water spilling everywhere; soaking her to the bone. Just as you debated emerging to help, an older woman with the same hair and eye color ran out of the town and up to her, a worried frown on her lips. 
“Jenjia just what do you think you’re doing!?”
Her voice was much quieter you noticed thankfully; it would’ve probably been bad if any fiends had been awoken earlier. 
The girl, Jenjia as you now knew her, looked sheepish and beamed nervously up at her mother, clasping her hands behind her back. 
“I’m sorry Mom, I just realized we didn’t have any water to boil! You like to have your tea at night with Daddy and I forgot when playing with Cheryl earlier…” 
She scuffed her worn looking loafers on the ground as her mother shook her head. 
“Well then that’s a day well spent, isn’t it? I’d rather have my daughter home safe and sound than a cup of tea Jia. Your father will feel the same. Leviathan will keep our water flowing clean until tomorrow to refill the stores. Come along now; I’ve already put some beef stew on the stove and I’d rather it didn’t get cold.”
Your heart warmed at the gentle interaction even as a bitter twinge you didn’t want to acknowledge made your chest hurt. You had His Majesty, and that was enough. You never would’ve found Yoongi or Hoseok without him. You turned away as you recalled Yoongi and the girl grabbed her Mother’s hand to be led inside. 
Best you were on your way in any case; it wouldn’t be good if Yoongi woke to find you missing, or if a monster snuck up on your camp.
The rest of the night watch passed uneventfully and Yoongi awoke, as he usually did, at first light. 
You offered him a capful of water from your flask and he drank it gratefully. You’d used up all the food last night; you really should bring more than simple bread next time. Honestly, it had just slipped your mind...this was why Yoongi and Hoseok typically took care of provisions. You always managed to miss something. 
You fiddled absentmindedly with the new earring Yoongi had presented you with last night. It was common practice within Baron to claim trophies from particularly tough monsters and wear them as badges of honor. Typically; you felt pride in a kill and yesterday your mind had been preoccupied with panic and anger but now that it was the next morning you felt no joy, no sense of victory, There had been...no malice or hate that you typically felt from monsters. And it had bled too. It was...odd. 
Still, Yoongi had risked his life to get it for you, and King Odin would surely be pleased with the sight of it upon your return. Best to keep it on for now. 
You jumped as a pair of armored hands abruptly clapped in your face and offered a weak smile to Yoongi as he held out his hand to help you up. 
You grasped it, and he easily pulled you to your feet. 
“How are you feeling?”
You couldn’t help the worry seeping into your tone but Yoongi waved you off. 
“I told you last night I’d be fine and I am. I feel fit as yesterday before we’d even departed. Rest can often be even more healing than a Potion or Cure spell. Now then, shall we go? I’m sure you must be exhausted and the sooner we return home the sooner we can get you some much needed and deserved rest.”
You nodded at that, and after making sure you both had snuffed out the fire and that your weapons and armor were properly set you began your short trek to the gates of Mist. 
It was a tiny village you knew, unlike Damcyan, Fabul, Troia, or Eblan there was no castle, and even Mysidia was more bustling and lively than the few houses dwelling here. It was humble to be sure, but there was a peace and a sense of sincerity here that you doubted you could find anywhere else. 
You fingered the box holding the ring in your pocket, a bit nervous now that you were here. Baron and Mist had never had particularly good relations. You prayed that the King asking for their input would establish a rapport and help you maintain a good relationship. You lowered your face visor, figuring being able to see some part of you that was human behind your demonic looking armor would help put them at ease. 
As Yoongi and you both entered the village you noticed the civilians within already began side-eying you distrustingly and couldn’t help but wonder if word of Mysidia had already spread but quickly reminded yourself that that was impossible. After all; Troia was the only neighboring kingdom and they would’ve had to have taken an airship here just to inform them. A general lack of airships besides Baron aside, Troia was always neutral anyway and pretty much entirely isolated.
Guess tensions with Baron really were high then. 
You suddenly noticed a woman approaching you and recognized her as the mother from last night. Her daughter clutched at her skirt, observing you with curious if shy eyes. You smiled at her while Yoongi offered a respectful nod to the mother. 
“Good day ma’am we were just-”
His words were cut off by your pained yelp as you ripped the now searing box that held the ring out of its pouch. You’d been so preoccupied with calming down the young girl you hadn’t noticed the rising temperature until it was near scorching. 
“The ring!”
The box was rustling wildly of its own accord as it hit the ground, and Yoongi frowned deeply in confusion only to roughly pull you back several feet as he too jumped back. 
The woman too had shoved her daughter behind her and was examining the box before recognition lit her eyes. 
“This is-!”
Boom
The box exploded open and Bomb monsters hidden inside didn’t waste any time as they began setting fire to anything and anyone they could. In seconds the village was burning and the smell of burning flesh was everywhere. You could do little more than watch in horrified shock as smoke already was causing your eyes to burn at the spot the woman had just been. That initial violent opening of the box had scorched the poor woman...and her daughter you noted numbly, where they’d stood. The girl-Jenjia you reminded yourself, she had a name- all that remained of her was her doll, slowly burning away to nothingness in front of your very eyes. Suddenly, an abrupt realization hit you.
The bombs were carefully not targeting Yoongi and yourself.
You shook violently as words escaped your lips in hushed horror, taking in the carnage caused in the wake of your visit. It had to be a mistake, it had to. Yoongi would be truthful with you. You must’ve missed something. This wasn’t happening.
“This is what we were sent to do?”
Yoongi looked around with detached and grim determination.
“He wished this village torched.”
Tears streamed down your face and evaporated just as quickly, whether from the flames and smoke or the horror and disgust coursing through you; who could say? You trembled with rage and clenched your fists so tightly your already dented armor creaked a bit more from the force of it. 
“But why?”
You raised your head to the sky and let out a guttural raw of pure primal agony. 
“Why!?!”
Yoongi remained silent beside you, but you could feel the tenseness coming off of him in waves. This upset him too, you were sure. You numbly looked back down at the ground and it took you a few moments to register a new sound amid the now silent town besides the crackling of the fire and the creaking of buildings as they collapsed in on themselves. Destroyed in mere minutes. 
A young boy sobbing. 
You grimly raised your head and began walking towards the sound hearing Yoongi’s steady footsteps beside you. 
You came across a mint haired boy, hysterically gasping over a woman’s body. Luckily the child was beside the only water source in the town; a small pool which seemed to have kept the Bombs at bay. 
As Yoongi and you approached, he clung all the harder to his mother, not even noticing both of you. You barely managed to make out the words between his heart-wrenching sobs. 
“Mother you can’t die! J-Just because your dragon did!!” 
Yoongi’s eyes suddenly lit with understanding behind his visor and you turned to him in confusion as he nodded to himself. 
“I’ve heard of their lot. Men who can conjure Eidolons...Summoners.”
It suddenly hit you and you mumbled to yourself as it all seemed to come together. 
“Then the dragon we slew...was...his mothers?”
The boy gasped at the sound of your voice and turned to glare fearfully at you and Yoongi making you wince as you met his gaze behind your visor in reluctant admission of your guilt. He stood in an attempt to appear more intimidating even despite the tremor in his voice showing how petrified he was just underneath the facade.
“You...You’re the ones who killed her dragon!?”
You swallowed the bitter taste on your tongue as you pleaded with the boy. Moon above, he couldn’t be more than 10. 
“Forgive us. We’d no idea this would happen to your mother.”
It sounded exactly what it was. Weak and pathetic. There would be no forgiveness. Not for this. Nor for Mysidia. 
You forced your gaze to his deceased Mother and sent up a prayer. As if that would help him now. 
Yoongi looked around and finally spoke up, tone matter of fact. 
“His Majesty sent us to eliminate every last one of these people.”
Your legs finally gave out, unable to take the weight being placed upon you. 
“No…”
Yoongi frowned as he looked down at you, assessing your condition before he began to move towards the boy with grim determination. 
“Foul work to be sure. But we’ll need to kill the boy as well.”
At that you lunged, just before he reached him, hopping to your feet and pushing against his chest plate in horrified desperation. 
“Yoongi!!”
Up close as you were, you could feel his breath on your skin, could hear the hateful sense of begrudging duty in his tone.
“It’s him or us ____!” 
You pushed him with all your might, making him take a step back even with the weakness coursing through your shaky body.
“He’s a child!”
You turned to look down at the still sobbing boy who was too preoccupied with trying to wipe his tears to pay attention to you both. 
“You’d betray your King?”
Yoongi’s voice now held a note of finality,
You turned to fully face him, clenching your hand into a fist and drawing it close to your chest.
“Betray him? Any King who’d wish for this is no King of mine!!” 
You snarled, harshly swinging your arm out in a subconscious show of disgusted frustration. 
Yoongi smirked at you suddenly and you found yourself startled as he scoffed in humor. 
“Hmph. I thought you might say that.”
Your eyes searched for him just behind your visor as you grew hopeful. 
“Then…?”
He looked off into the distance for a moment and then turned to you with sharp determination. 
“I owe his Majesty much but not so much I’d soil the Dragoon’s name in his.”
He planted his spear down with finality.
Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him in excitement.
“Then you’re with me?”
He made sure to meet your gaze and wordlessly nodded twice in support before he turned, this time towards the destruction, and walked past the boy as he spoke, looking out at it. 
“Baron’s army is the mightiest in the world. Our flight means nothing if we remain alone; we must treat with other nations, share what we’ve seen…”
He hesitated and then turned to look at you once more. 
“And Hoseok, he must share our flight.”
Your tone softened in affection for him and you nodded, stepping closer.
“And he will. Thank you.”
He turned away for a moment and mumbled to himself. 
“...I’m not doing this for you.”
You didn’t hear him and tilted your head. 
“Huh?”
Yoongi ignored you however and turned to nod towards the boy.
“Quickly, we mustn’t linger here! What of the boy?”
You didn’t even hesitate. 
“We take him with us.”
After hesitating a moment you approached him where he was still crouched protectively over his mother’s body as Yoongi watched uneasily but stayed where he was. 
“Come, it’s not safe here! Take my hand.” 
You asked gently, holding out your hand to the boy. 
He hopped away from you with a glower. 
“No!!” 
Yoongi growled low in his throat at that.
“We’ve no time; use force if you must!”
He joined you as he ran over and Jimin cowered away in fear disguised as anger. 
“Stay away!”
You held out your hand as Yoongi and you both froze. 
“Wait!” 
The child began running in earnest and Yoongi and you both followed, hot on his heels when he suddenly curled in on himself with a choked sob.
“Leave me alone!” 
He suddenly screeched as blinding white light surged up from beneath his feet and you could feel the magical energy emanating from him. Yoongi had faltered but you kept running, refusing to be responsible for the death of another child. If he harmed you so be it...you deserved it anyway.
“I HATE YOU!!!”
You felt the earth shake violently and you glanced up to see a massive Titan made of pure earth. The Eidolon raised its hands, your eyes widened and you lunged curling your arms around the boy as you crushed him protectively against your chest as hard as you could just as he fell unconscious from exertion. You felt the Titan’s hands come down onto the Blue Planet’s surface hard and your body flew into the air. 
If you were to die then so be it, but let this child survive at least. 
He need not share the payment for your sins.
You slammed against the ground hard several times, but curled your body inward all the more around his tiny body in spite of the pain, praying your armor would be enough to absorb the impact as you finally, mercifully joined the child in unconsciousness.
A/N:  Welp, I hope those that actually read this series enjoy it; I’ve only gotten one rambly review on AO3 that inspired be to keep posting this so thank them if you enjoy this series and I’m not talking to myself. Anyway! Onto fun notes about this chapter! :) 
I find Yoongi’s characterization and his relationship to Reader to be one of the most fun parts to explore thus far for me this chapter as well as how they fight together in a serious battle. I also delved into status effects some as well as the various uses of Potions! Expect more explained uses of items and such as the series goes on! Yoongi’s look hair wise in Daechwita perfectly fits both the OG character Yoongi is based off of(Kain Highwind). Luckily it hit me as I was going through mvs, trying to decide if there was anything that matched Kain’s lucious locks and there it was! 
Also yay!! Official intro for Jimin! I know he’s never had mint hair before but I just had to include the nod to the OG game after doing Yoongi’s so...please bare with me. These are the ones I felt most fit what I was imagining. 
Hope you all enjoy and please leave feedback it’s a huge motivator for me! Much love hope ya’ll are enjoying the influx of content from me lately! <3
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33 notes · View notes
verai-marcel · 4 years
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This Is Perfection (RDR2 Fanfic, Javier x F!Reader, Biker AU, 18+)
This is part of the series Ride Through My Heart. Read the other parts here.
Summary: You are an intern at a photography studio, and lately you've been crushing on the male model that works with your boss. Javier is sex on legs and your eyes are drawn to him every time he's near. On top of his looks, he's also kind and funny, which made you doubly fall for him. Little did you know, he's had his eye on you too, for he knows your secret identity: a semi-popular cosplayer on the convention circuit. 
Author’s Notes: Trying another Javier x F!Reader fic because he deserves love too. The title of this fic is yet another obscure lyric from a popular song, so try and guess! Also I’m not in the photography or modelling industry, so most of that stuff is just conjecture and internet research.
Tags: fluff, romance, gentle to passionate to rough sex, mild dirty talk, neck grabbing (but no choking), some use of a different language
AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.
Word Count: 4457
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“See you next week, Javier.”
“Later Charles,” Javier threw over his shoulder as he left Charles’ cat café. He finished his latte, jaywalking across the two lane road to get to his bike. Bright red, his Ducati Streetfighter was his prized possession, his baby, his joy. When he wasn’t working, he loved to take his motorcycle to the nearby lake and ride around the backroads, enjoying the scenery.
But lately, he had no excuse to go out. He felt he had overbooked himself this month, running from one photo shoot to another. He had to sleep, had to eat properly and work out so that he looked his best, and that cut out practically all of his free time. Feeling the stress steadily creep up his spine and into his brain, his only breaks were his weekly meetings with his friends, which he could count as business since he was their marketing manager. Self-appointed, of course.
He only left Sunday for himself, which he had been using for personal and wardrobe maintenance. Javier was nothing if not meticulous about his look. He had to be, when it was the product he was selling. But lately, even his Sundays were being booked with side jobs. 
He chucked the empty latte cup into the trash and got onto his bike. It was Sunday morning and he had once again broken his rule and picked up an extra gig at the beach by the lake. He almost hadn't taken the job, except that there was a lady working today that he absolutely wanted to see. 
***
You were sitting inside a minivan with the sliding door open, cords coming out of your laptop and hooked up to a power strip, connected to an orange extension cord that was coming out of the visitor’s center. Your boss was testing shots by the new mural that had been painted on the retaining wall next to the beach. You had helped her set up most of the lighting gear already, so at this point, the two of you were just waiting for the model to arrive. While you had wanted to spend the weekend touching up your costumes for the convention next week, you also needed the extra money. It had nothing to do with that fact that the model for today was none other than the delightful (and very sexy) Javier Escuella.
Ever since you had started working with this modeling & photography company, you had done a lot of random work that wasn’t really related to your college degree. However, you learned a lot about the profession and discovered that the thing you really loved more than photography itself was the photo-editing.
While you were editing some of your personal photos, you heard the sound of a motorcycle pulling up. Looking over at the source of the sound, you watched as Javier pulled his helmet off his head and shook his hair out. As he took off his bandana and biker jacket, you made a mental note to remember this moment forever, his biceps revealed, his sleeveless shirt wrapped around his torso like a lover.
Then he looked at you and grinned. He had caught you staring. Again.
How many times in the past three months since he started to work with your company had he caught you staring? And how many times had he just grinned at you, knowing he had caught you? 
Too many. Didn't he think you were a creep? And yet he still smiled. 
“Hey you,” Javier said smoothly as he walked over to you, the slight sway to his hips taunting you. He was a natural-born model, his movement graceful as a cat and his charisma amplified by his seductive smile. Taking a seat next to you, the space between you two barely a hair’s breadth apart, he leaned over to look at your screen. “What are you working on?”
You quickly tried to shut the laptop, but just as quickly he stayed your hand. His hand was bigger than yours, encompassing and warm. His fingers, wrapped around yours, gently moved the laptop screen back up, and you couldn’t stop him, so enraptured by his touch.
Apprehensively you watched him as he looked at your latest shots of you in your almost completed costume. You swallowed. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize you? After all, you had your glasses on, a big beanie over your hair, and an oversized sweater. Your photo had so much more makeup on and a wig, perhaps he wouldn’t—
“Oh, I know this Insta account.”
You paled.
“I’m a big fan.”
"I'm editing for a friend–" 
"Don't lie," he said softly. "I can tell it's you. I've known since I started working with you."
You squeaked. 
He turned his blazingly glorious smile onto you, and you felt like the sun was shining straight into your eyes. While you were reeling from his admission, he continued to talk to you.  
"You're going to that big convention next weekend, right?" 
You nodded. 
"Can I come?"
Shrugging as you tried to play it cool despite the slight tremor in your voice, you replied, "I'm not sure if tickets are still available, but I wouldn't stop you."
He leaned in a little closer. "What if I told you I already had a ticket?"
You gulped. "Re-really?" 
Nodding, he stood up, giving you room to breathe. "I may not look like it, but I enjoy comics too."
Noticing that your boss was starting to head over, you quickly said, "please don't tell my boss about this. I don't want her to think I'm slacking or anything."
Javier smiled and winked at you. "Of course. Your secret is safe with me." He leaned down to look at you in the eyes, and you were mesmerized for a moment from the intensity. "Just promise me I get a photo shoot with you at the con."
You nodded, your head moving so fast that your glasses dipped down your nose. 
He laughed as he casually reached down and moved your glasses back up, his fingers brushing against your temples.
"Then it's a date," he said as he walked away to greet your boss. 
Grabbing your laptop and pulling it off the charger, you followed as they went to the shooting location, your heart pounding a million miles a second. 
***
After the photo shoot, Javier traded his phone number with the lovely lady who had been the subject of his heated dreams as of late. He hadn't wanted to scare her; she always seemed so jumpy when he approached. But he always noticed the way she stared at him before he caught her eyes. The look she gave him was pure woman, and he craved more. 
It wasn't just the looks that brought her to his attention. He started following her Instagram account a year ago when he was looking at last year's masquerade winners. Her smile, her energy, and her creativity drew him in. He had found himself liking all of her posts in a day, scrolling endlessly through her archive. 
So when she had shown up at one of his photo shoots three months ago, he had been delighted. But she seemed shy and even denied that she had an Instagram account when he had asked her. He was even more surprised to find that she wasn't a model, but the photographer's intern. 
At that time, he had let it go. She was clearly hiding it, clearly didn't want to draw attention to herself. But every time he got to work with her, he felt frustrated that she hid herself so carefully behind her wide rimmed glasses and oversized hoodies. Her cosplay photos were amazing, her smile brilliant, her makeup impeccable, her costumes were bold and full of color combinations that seduced his vision. 
At the same time, having her hidden away made him feel a bit better about her safety. What kind of wolves would go after her if they knew how gorgeous she was under her baggy clothes? 
As he slowly got to know her, his affection for her had only grown. With each job, he talked with her more and more, and she had opened up to him. While they hadn't traded phone numbers until now, he could say with a certain level of confidence that they were on good terms. Almost friends, really. 
He couldn't wait for next week. He had gotten his Comic-Con ticket months ago and had been preparing on his own. Javier grinned under his helmet. 
She was going to be so surprised to see him. 
***
"Thanks for working today. I'll see you tomorrow."
"No problem, see ya later!" 
Your boss waved as she went to her car and drove off. The two of you had dropped the company van back at the office, so now you had the rest of the day to yourself. 
Getting into your car, you started it up, put your favorite music on… 
And you promptly screamed in both excitement and anxiousness. You had a date with Javier. You. Had a date. With Javier. 
You drove home, got to your apartment, and started working feverishly on the rest of your costume. 
Next weekend had to be perfect. 
***
You finished your make up and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had arrived at the convention center early and started getting ready in the bathroom as other cosplayers had begun to trickle in. For everything else in your life, you were unsure of yourself, constantly second guessing your choices and worrying if you were, in fact, wrong about everything.
But in this space, you felt strong. Confident. Because, despite the occasional hater in your comments, the majority of your feedback was positive. Besides, you were someone else when you put on your outfit. You were Star.Bright.909, a cosplayer with over a thousand followers. Not as many compared to the big name cosplayers, but you were proud of yourself for getting this far.
So when you came out of the restroom looking your best, the few gasps you heard were worth it. As you walked outside towards the photography area that had been set aside for cosplayers, you already had five people asking to take photos of you.
You smiled and posed and thanked everyone who wanted to take a photo. You were gracious and patient, even though you were trying to meet up with some photographers you had spoken with online. When you reached the small plaza, you met up with them and worked for the rest of the morning, posing as the photographers asked and networking with other cosplayers in the area. 
Just as you were about to head off towards the lobby to check out the dealer's hall, a man walking through the crowd caught your attention. Dressed up in a skin tight lycra Spiderman outfit, you could tell immediately that his muscles were real. The way he moved was smooth, graceful, and awfully familiar, despite not seeing his face. 
Wait. 
It couldn't. 
As he came closer to you, he bowed in a gentlemanly fashion and held out his hand. 
"Hola, mi Estrella."
You squeaked. "Javier?" 
"Just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Perhaps we could take a photo together?" 
"Of course," you said, suddenly shy. A professional model wanted to take a photo with you. Granted, you knew Javier, but he was still a pro, while you were an amateur. 
"Do you mind if I put my arm around you?" he asked politely. 
"That’s fine," you said, your face warming. 
He nodded and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close for the photo. You grinned, channeling your happiness into your smile. Holding up the phone for a selfie, Javier took a few shots before taking a look at them to check their quality.
He still hadn't let go of you. 
"Whoops, sorry," he said, finally letting go. 
"It's okay," you quickly said. "I… I didn't mind."
He looked at you, but his mask prevented you from seeing his expression. 
"Are you free now?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm free for the rest of the day." You had worked yesterday and some of today, but you always left the last half-day of any convention for shopping or panels. 
Javier held out his hand and you gladly took it, letting him walk you back to the entrance of the convention center. 
As the two of you walked past one of the hotels that lined the plaza, you saw the laces of one of your boots hit the ground. 
"Hold on," you said as you stepped off the main path to tie it back. 
Then you felt the splash of liquid come down on your head, the smell of alcohol pungent and seeping into your wig.
For a moment you were shocked. Then the overwhelming sense of frustration hit you and all you could do was stay still and will yourself not to cry. Not in front of Javier. 
Warm hands touched your wet shoulders. 
"Sweetie. Come on, let's get you changed. Can I escort you to your hotel room?"
You looked up at him, at his compassionate eyes, and you shook your head. “I drove here this morning.” You had driven here from your apartment, an hour away.
“Oh. I see.” He took your hand and began to lead you down the road, away from the convention center. 
"Where are we going?" 
"My hotel room, if that’s alright. Or would you rather go back to the convention hall?"
“You got a room?” you said in surprise. 
He shrugged. “I have other business in the city tomorrow morning, figured it’d be easier to spend the night.”
“Oh, okay,” you said, unsure of what else to say. 
“So… are you okay coming with me? I won’t do anything, I promise.”
“Yeah, let’s go.” You put your hand on his arm. “I trust you, Javier.”
He nodded and continued to walk with you. He was taking you to his bedroom. No ulterior motives, he just wanted to help you get clean.
But part of you really wished he had some ulterior motives.
***
“I’ll get you some extra clothes from my backpack,” Javier called out to you as he left you to clean up in the bathroom on your own.
You stared in the mirror; your make up was ruined, your wig would need an extreme clean up when you got home, and your costume was stained and reeked of alcohol. As you took off everything and tried to rinse out what you could in the sink, you counted yourself lucky that this had happened at the end of the convention rather than the beginning. At least you had all of your shots and you could maybe sell a few prints to make some of your cash back.
You showered and dried your hair as quickly as you could, not wanting to take up more of Javier’s time. He had left a shirt and shorts in front of the bathroom door for you, and you opened the door a crack to pull them inside, throwing them on. They were a bit loose on you, but that was a welcome relief, compared to the skin tight costume you had on earlier.
“Alright, I’m good,” you said as you exited the bathroom. Javier was lying on the bed, his legs still on the floor. His costume was unzipped to expose his torso, his arms up in the air as he was typing on his phone. Turning his head to you, he gave you a lazy grin before patting the bed next to him. 
“Have a seat, I’m just finishing this post for Insta.”
You sat next to him and took in his body from up close. His abs were perfect; you wanted to run your hands down them to see how they’d feel under your fingers. He was lean, tanned, muscles, everything you lusted after.
“What do you think?”
You quickly looked up at him, as if he hadn’t just caught you staring at his body. He was holding out his phone, a picture of the two of you with your costumes. The caption said, Found my favorite cosplayer today! She graciously took a selfie with me, isn’t she wonderful?
You felt warm from his kind words. “You’re too nice to me,” you mumbled.
Javier laughed softly and sat up. “I like being nice to you.” He posted the photo and put his phone down. Turning towards you, he reached up and stroked your face with the back of his knuckles. “I just… like you.”
You swallowed. The fact that he was saying that now, with you wearing baggy clothes, your make-up gone, just being your unglamorous self, meant so much that you started to tear up.
“Did I say the wrong thing?”
“No,” you said between tears. “I like you too.”
He started to lean in for a kiss before he stopped. “May I?��
“You can do whatever you want to me,” you said without thinking.
A moment passed, his deep brown eyes searching yours. “Anything?” he finally said.
You nodded. Time to own up to your words, to your feelings that you had been denying for so long. “Yes.”
“Well, I’d rather do whatever we want with each other,” he said, smiling gently.
You leaned in and kissed him, surprising him and surprising yourself. Your hands rested on his chest and you gave in, exploring his toned body, his skin underneath your fingers, feeling warm and inviting to your touch. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you back, a passionate inhalation of your very spirit, as if he wanted to merge his soul with yours.
Soon he pressed you down against the mattress and kissed you for a few moments more before he pulled away. “Wait here for a few, I’m going to shower so I don’t smell like sweat and spandex. You deserve better than that.”
You laughed as he kissed your cheek and went to shower. 
Laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you managed to find your brain again. You, and he, were about to…
Your brain left again and you just grew warm between your legs. You wanted him so much.
In a daze, you didn't notice the sound of the shower turning off. You didn't notice the door open and close. You only noticed when he came back to the bed, wearing just a towel around his waist, smiling down at you. The tendrils of his black hair clung to his cheeks, still damp from the shower, as drops of water slid down his neck to his chest, drawing a line you desperately wanted to trace with your tongue. As your eyes moved lower, you noticed his towel wasn’t exactly hiding his desire for you.
"I've wanted you for so long, querida," he said, his voice like fingertips gliding down your spine as he stepped to the foot of the bed. Taking off your shirt and throwing it aside, he grabbed your breasts and kissed them, laving each nipple with his tongue before pinching and teasing you with his dexterous fingers until you were a writhing mess. You could feel your panties being soaked by your desire, and you shifted your legs, wanting to remove them.
Your movement attracted his attention, and he looked down at you. Reaching down to pull at the waistband of your (his) shorts, he pulled them off, revealing your beige panties.
“Aw, I thought you would have gone commando,” he teased as he tugged your underwear down your legs, his fingers caressing you along the way.
“They weren’t soaked with alcohol,” you mumbled.
“They’re soaked now,” he said with a cocky grin, tossing them aside. Then he placed a hand at each of your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your most intimate body parts to him. Licking his lips, he knelt down and pulled your hips to the edge of the bed. 
The moment Javier’s tongue brushed against your core, you nearly came. He was hungry, so hungry, and ate you out like a man starved. With one hand he held you down, his fingers splayed out on your stomach and occasionally digging into your soft flesh while he slipped one finger inside of you, stretching you out slowly.
“Let me hear what I’m doing to you, baby,” he said before diving back in.
“Y-you’re, making me, feel really, good,” you managed to say between sharp intakes of breath.
“Bien, bien,” he praised, petting your belly. “Come on my tongue, querida, I want to taste your happiness.”
With that command, he slipped another finger inside of you and sucked hard on your center, his eyes on you as he drove your body into a heated frenzy, barely able to hold you down as you keened. Your hips undulated out of your control as the spiral unraveled and you let go, euphoria zipping up and down your body. You cried out wordlessly as you peaked and then fell, landing in a fluffy cloud of afterglow.
“Oh my god, Javier,” you breathed. “That was amazing.”
“Who said we were done?”
You lifted your head up just in time to see his teasing grin as he stood up.
And he dropped his towel.
Your lust went through the roof; you were so ready for round two.
His hands on your knees, he pushed them up to your shoulders.
“Hold your legs open for me.”
You willingly obeyed.
Javier cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you, the taste of your release still lingering on his lips. You felt him nudge you open, his length sliding inside of you as the two of you shared a moan, swallowed up by each other’s kiss.
He continued to kiss you as he slowly pressed forward until his hips were flush with yours.
“You feel like heaven,” he said as he leaned back so that he was standing over you, his cock deep inside of you, your hips barely on the edge of the bed. He gripped your waist, his hands warm in contrast to the cool hotel air. Slowly sliding out of you until only the tip of him remained, the only warning you got was the feel of his fingers digging into you before he slammed back into you.
“Oh my god!” you yelped.
“Too much?” he asked, looking a little worried.
“Keep going, please,” you begged. “I want it hard!”
“Oh yes,” he moaned before going all out, letting loose all of his lust for you as he fucked you in a frenzy. He fell upon you, crushing you into the mattress as he wrapped a hand around your neck. “Like this, baby?”
“Yes!” you breathed out, your voice cracking. “More, more!”
Javier’s eyes lit up as he pulled out of you and picked you up effortlessly, tossing you into the center of the bed and rolling you onto your stomach before climbing up onto the bed. You felt his length sliding along the curve of your ass before he lifted your hips up slightly and mounted you from behind, moaning softly.
“You’re perfecto,” he whispered into your ear when he covered you with his body and began to fuck you from behind, his hand wrapping around your neck again. You could feel the brush of his hair along your skin as he rutted into you, his deep sounds of pleasure echoing in your ears.
His long fingers found their way to your clit. One stroke and you flinched, still sensitive from your last climax. He didn’t show you any mercy; the hand around your neck tightened, his legs trapped yours in place, and his fingers found your core once again, stroking you oh so perfectly. The pressure from his touch was just right, the feel of his breath against your ear as he slipped into another language to tell you how much he coveted you.
Javier’s head pressed against your temple. “Give me everything, baby. I want you so much.”
His words, his touch, his absolute possession of your body made your release so much stronger this time around. You cried out his name as pure pleasure rocketed through your bloodstream, a high better than any drug. His hips kept pumping as you spasmed beneath him, wringing out every last gasp and moan from you until you were shaking with the aftershocks.
“Let me make a mess of you,” he growled.
“Yes, please,” you said mindlessly, willing to do whatever he asked. 
He pulled out of you and rolled you onto your back. Straddling your waist, he took your hand and wrapped it around his cock. You stroked him rapidly, watching his eyes burn with ecstasy, his breathing grow heavier as he reached his peak. Reaching for his balls with his other hand, you fondled him gently, looking up at him with a smile.
That flipped a switch, as he reached for your neck again, his other hand wrapping around yours to apply more pressure to his cock as he came, spilling himself all over your breasts. He moaned your name as he finished, looking at you in complete awe.
“Fuck,” he breathed, letting go of your neck and hand as he fell to one side and rolled to face you. “I haven’t come like that in forever.”
Looking at his satisfied face, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a one time deal or if this was the start of something, you weren’t sure what.
You must have looked concerned, because he frowned, his brow wrinkled with concern. “What’s on your mind?”
“Um, I… never mind,” you quickly said, deciding not to voice your thoughts.
He leaned in, placed both his hands on your cheeks, and squished your face a little. “Please tell me.”
With his gaze so intensely close to you, you spoke without filtering. “Is this a one time deal? Or can we be… something more?”
He stopped squishing your cheeks, but he kept his hands on your face. Kissing your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, he smiled at you. “I want something more. Do you?”
You nodded enthusiastically.
“So let’s try."
You couldn't help the grin that broke out on your face. 
"That's the smile I fell for," he said, smiling back. As he tried to pull you close, you pushed on his chest. 
"I'm sticky."
Javier just laughed. "Let's take a shower then." He cupped your cheek and kissed you again, his lips lingering on yours before he pulled back to gaze into your eyes. The way he looked at you pulled at your heart, while his next words made you happier than you had ever been. 
"You're the brightest star in my life."
-------------------
End Notes: A bit on the nose, but the lyric is from Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira. Hope you enjoyed this story! One more left in this series. I’m going to wrap it up with the last Arthur x F!Reader!
Also happy birthday to @eddescuella!!! I waited so I could post on your special day! 💖💖💖
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hawksmagnolia · 4 years
Text
The Depths Part 4
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Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,184
Author’s Note: Sorry this is a day late! 
This is Part 4 - Links to Parts 1-3 are HERE.
THIS IS NOT ENDGAME CANON. Sorry, not sorry. It’s my world and I can do what I want. 
Please reblog and leave me some love. It really does mean the world to me! This has been an absolute labor of love and I can’t wait for next Friday. -xo- Allie
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Despite Thor’s timely arrival, Bucky knew they were struggling. He’d long been out of ammunition and had taken to using the serum in his veins and the sharpest knife he’d been able to find. They’d learned Stark was battling Thanos somewhere in space so they had to defend Earth on their own. 
Suddenly the Outriders stopped. All of them. Every beast on the field locked in place.
They went from feral, violent beasts to near catatonic with their heads tilted. 
“What the fuck?” Bucky looked towards Steve who looked as confused as he felt. Around them, people were slowly getting to their feet and checking each other for injuries while warily watching as the sky to the west erupted into black boiling clouds and when everyone looked to Thor, he shook his head.
“That is not my doing.”
The crack of thunder was enough to make them all wince but the outriders continued their stillness but they slowly began to sway to some unheard music.
Bucky stared at them and then realization dawned over him. He turned back to the swirling mass of clouds that was over the area of his Wakandan home and the nearby village. 
And the lake.
The pearl on his wrist felt hot, throbbing like it was alive. 
He looked back at the hypnotic sway of the beasts and grabbed Steve’s arm. “This could be very good or very bad. We have to get over there. Keep everyone else here.”
“Buck…”
“Don’t ask. Not yet. I just need you to trust me.”
Steve stared at him for a moment and then nodded. The two of them took off towards the storm, Steve relaying for everyone to stay in place and on their guard while they investigated.
Bucky’s blue eyes never left the twisting clouds as they covered ground super soldier fast. 
“This is completely unsettling.” Steve glanced at Bucky as they passed another pack of non-moving outriders.
When they crested the hill that overlooked the valley where the village and lake were, Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm to stop him.
The grass beneath their feet had frozen and crunched under their boots. Both of them stared at the piles of bodies, some human but most were the frozen remains of the invading aliens. At the concentric circles that surrounded a tiny specter in white with her hands to the sky.
“Oh shit.”
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I stood on the banks, a water wraith in all her glorious fury. I pulled down the clouds, draining them of their moisture until it filled my hands…and then filled the lungs of the monsters that dare attack the people I now consider mine. 
You don’t have to be in the water to drown, the water just has to be in you.
I made my way towards the heart of the village, each beast that attacked gave me more anger to use against the next. 
It was one of the smaller villages, only housed a dozen or so families. Those still alive were hiding in the largest home.
“Go.” My voice was soft but harsh, but I didn’t want risk raising it and accidentally using the power building up inside me. “Go to the water.”
They ran past me, filing to the lake’s edge. 
The lake shallows now filled with creatures of all shapes and sizes from friendly faced otters to massive ancient turtles. They waited patiently to ferry the survivors towards a small island towards the center of this side of the lake. The last one was the village elder, a soft spoken woman, bent with age. She stopped and put her hand on my arm. When I turned to face her, she tapped her ear. It was packed with bees wax and cloth. She smiled knowingly before she climbed onto the back of a turtle who began to slowly make his way away with her. 
Above me, the sky was an angry bruise, black as pitch as the power in my veins built. I closed my eyes and began to hum, just enough to still the creatures as they poured over the hill. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by them. They formed multiple ring around me, swaying hypnotically to the beat of my music. 
I shift my weight, still unused to the sensation of legs, of feet planted onto soil that is splattered with the blood of innocents mixed with the black blood of evil. I feel the air around me grow colder, my breath pants in plumes of steam. The creatures began to shiver, I raise my voice enough to hold them locked in my thrall. 
It doesn’t matter the species. If they have blood, they have liquid in their veins. 
And all liquids freeze.
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“What the hell is that?” 
“It’s not a what. It’s a who.” Bucky clenched his fist as the temperature continued to drop. He was more than a little shocked at how fast it was plummeting around them. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him and when he met his gaze, Steve’s blond brows were almost at his hairline.
“Is…she?” Bucky nodded and Steve continued. “Is she on our side?”
Bucky’s gaze was back on the figure. “Yeah. She is. She’s fighting for us. Even though I told her to hide.”
“You know her?”
“She saved my life.” He glanced down at the pearl on his wrist, feeling it thump in tandem with his own pulse as her words echoed in his head.
“The world is not a safe place. I accept this. I am not running away scared. I can fight.”
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My Tear begins to sing, its twin is near. Which means Bucky is far too close.
But I can’t stop now.
Tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I try to dam the coming tide within me. The tsunami of rage that will destroy all in its path.
Including him. I stagger, unbalanced on unsteady legs. Ice blooms like lace under my bare feet. To some it might be pretty.
People often forget that ice is also so very deadly. 
I drop to my knees, tilt my head back and lose myself in the song.
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“Cover your ears!” Bucky shouts as soon as she begins to fall. “Warn the others!”
As they clap their hands over their ears, the sound hits them. Both of them drop to the ground as soldiers are trained, face down in the grass as the Outriders around them began to shriek followed by a wet, crunching sound. Over and over, each of them wincing at the muffled sounds until a silence so abrupt follows that it’s almost a physical ache in their heads.
Bucky tilts his face to the side. All he can see are the contorted carcasses of dead outriders. As  he sits up, he’s shocked to find that they’re all dead. They look as if something…someone had exploded them from the inside out. Each of their bodies is flayed open and the hollow cavities inside are white with frost. Both he and Steve are covered in gore and damp from the grass that is no longer frozen. 
Both of them sit on their heels, knees in the muck as their twin blue eyed gazes towards the village where the bodies have formed a gruesome fence for the tiny white figure who is curled on her side in the fetal position, white hair fanned away from her. 
It’s then he notices how silent, how still the pearl on his wrist is.
“Fuck. No!” Bucky lurched to his feet, boots sliding on the melting entrails as he dashes towards the village, Steve right on his heels.
As they vault and weave their way towards their hero, Sam’s voice comes across the coms.
“I don’t know what happened but half these guys exploded with ice and the other ones turned on each other…Stark just radioed in. They’ve got the stones. Guys?”
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In the dark, I hear my mother’s voice.
“Do you want to know a secret? It’s not a song my sweet. It’s a scream, one that drives men to their deaths not because of it’s beauty, but because of the horror is causes. And you, my beautiful daughter, were doubly blessed with the touch of winter. You can command the flow, the sound even the shape of water as a siren. Little fish, you have the ability to wield it like a sword. Never forget you were made to be a warrior.”
I have never felt pain like this before. I feel as if my skin has been peeled from my bones.
My throat constricts as I try to cry out, the muscles spent from the rush of power. My lips are cracked and bleeding.
Sirens bleed red too.
I can hear the faint echo of a heartbeat and I wonder briefly if its mine.
I am so very tired. 
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Bucky drops to his knees at her side. She looks so tiny like this. In her siren tail she’s almost double him including her tail but now she’s small, almost fragile. She’s lost the color she’d gained while here, her pearlescent ivory now back. The only color on her body is the scarlet stain of blood across her lips.
Scooping her up he strides towards the shore cradling her against his chest as he makes his way to deeper waters. When she is submerged to her neck, her head lolling against his shoulder. Her pale hair swirls around them like a lacy net and the wet fabric of his shirt clings to her body.
“Is she alive?”
Bucky turned and saw Steve standing on the muddy beach. His best friend looked exhausted, was covered in muck and blood but still his earnest face held questions.
“I’m not sure.”
“What…was that?”
Bucky shifts her in his arms. He isn’t sure if she’s alive. But her gills had flared open when he’d brought her here and then sealed shut. It gave him hope.
“She saved me. I fell into the Bering Sea, figured I was dead. Accepted my fate. And then she swims up. Steve, I thought I was back in cryo. She carried me to the life raft. When I asked to see her again, she gave me..
“The pearl.” Steve finished. “But how did she get here? We’re a long way from Alaska.”
“She followed the pearl. When they put me in cryo here, she thought I was dead. So she swam.”
“From Alaska?”
Bucky nods, continuing as he watches her face for any sign of life. “Eight weeks ago she shows up here. She’s been here ever since.”
Realization dawned on Steve’s face. “She’s the mermaid. The villagers were being serious when they said there was a mermaid in the lake.”
“Siren.”
“What?”
“She’s a siren, not a mermaid.” Bucky is able to hold her in one arm as he pushes wet strands of hair away from her face and behind her delicately pointed ears. He hadn’t even known they were pointed. 
“Whatever she is, she just gave us enough time to win. She’s got a lot of heart in that tiny body.”
Bucky swallowed a hard knot in his throat as he surveyed the wreckage that was the aftermath of a siren’s song. 
When he looked back into her face, he found her eyes the ones that were the exact same color as his own looking back up at him. 
Tag List : @nano–raptor @cchellacat @eurynome827 @jobean12-blog @book-dragon-13 @aesthetical-bucky @marvelgirl7 @sallycanwait68 @buckys-broody-muffin @softpeachbarnes @godofplumsandthunder @azurika-writes @ikaris-whore @this-kitten-is-smitten @randomfandompenguin @bucky-plums-barnes @bugsbucky @littleredstarfish @emilylyoness @hailmary-yramliah @daughterofsteven @crushedbyhyperbole @theycallmebecca @nomadicpixel @bluebell-24   @sevans-is-my-weakness @sebastiansloserclub @justvnash @worldofmarvelaficionado @undiscovered-misunderstood @throwmyheartawayagain @jewels2876 
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sirsharp-a · 3 years
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Lakeside ( 3 ) ;
    “It’s huge,”   she whispered, standing at the foot of the porch as if she dared not climb up it.  A gentle hand on the small of her back broke through the fog, large blue eyes swivelling until they could look up at her mate instead.  He said nothing--  merely motioned with his head in the direction of the short stairway.
    Her footfalls were gentle, as if she expected it to give way beneath her, eyes curiously assessing her foreign surroundings.  This house was…  well, it was gorgeous, no doubt about that.  Up close, she could see the sturdiness of the structure.  The wood was enforced with something she wasn’t familiar with, architecture modern and hefty.
    Her eyes hovered on the door for several seconds before she turned around to face him once more.
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    “What is this?”   she asked gingerly, arms tucking behind her back.  Even without climbing the steps alongside her, he was still taller than she was.
    “I think you know.”     “I want to hear you say it.”
    She watched his face;   the briefest flicker of doubt crossing it before it vanished altogether.  It made her heart sink to think that it had been there in the first place.  Can you still not be totally open with me, even after all this time?
    “I’ve been thinking, recently.”   It was a brief statement, one that didn’t overstay its welcome as he slowly ascended the porch steps.  He moved until he was in front of her.   “I’m…  scared.  For the first time in eons, I’m scared, Grace.”
    “Why?”   She didn’t intend for the strain she felt to seep into her voice;  for the simple word to quiver with feeling.  He noticed, ears twitching, smile sober and quiet.
    “Because.  I’m overwhelmed by how much I care about you.  When I care about people, they tend to die.”
    “That’s not--”
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    “Just let me talk.”    He waited until her lips met, her silence as thick as a quilt.  It laid over him heavily, smothering him in heated judgement.   “... my past life was destroyed by my overwhelming feelings.  I cared too much.  It looked like I didn’t, because I was cold and clinical, but I cared.  I did everything possible to be as good as somebody like me could be, and it all went to hell.”   By now, his smile was gone completely, leaving behind a pensive line.  It was difficult to talk about his past as it was--  doubly so when he was baring his heart to the woman he loved.  It left him open to being burned, to her rejecting him, as much as she insisted that she would never do so.   “I loved my family so much.  So.  Much.  And when they were taken from me, it ruined me.  I’m…  terrified, of the past repeating itself.  I can’t go through it again.  I can’t lose anybody else like that.  But--”   He paused to fumble in his pocket, retrieving a set of house keys.  On the silver ring sat two identical keys, save for the keyholes;  one was a cross, while the other resembled a heart.   “...  I want to be happy.  And I don’t want to fear that for the rest of my life.  Forever is a long time to feel empty.  I know I’ve fought hard on the topic of marriage and children, but it’s because I love you and I want to protect you.  I want you to be well.  I don’t want to infect you with my curse.  I can’t lose you.”
    His confession hung in the air long after he’d stopped speaking, the weight of it resting harshly on her shoulders.  She wasn’t saying a word, and that was making him all the more anxious.  He was about to plead with her to say something, but before he could she had flung herself at him. Her arms circled tightly around him like a bear trap’s jaws did prey, face buried into his chest.  He did nothing to resist.  After a few moments of silence:
    “You’re not cursed, you idiot…”    Slowly, her arms loosened from around him, a hand reaching for the keys hanging limply in his hand.  When her spine straightened once more, he was greeted by her sunny smile, slightly creased at the corners, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.  Without even thinking about it, he raised one hand to brush it away, watching as she turned on her heel and headed back towards the door.  The key was slotted into the hole, twisted with a firm hand.   “Come on, dumb-dumb.  Let’s have a look.”
                                   That was all she said before disappearing inside.
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Do director's cut for the nighttime journey one!
Sorry, it took me several days to get to this! It was fun to revisit this one!
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Moonlight shone down on the empty dirt road. It was late. It was quiet. A single man in a battered, mustard-yellow waistcoat appeared with a barely audible pop, landing in the grass near the tree line. His eyes were sharp as he looked around, watching for company. Newt Scamander, after years of watching for danger and tracking beasts, was quite adept at spotting what most others would not.
Creeping up to the road, his boots scuffling softly in the dirt, Newt set off for home with only the light of the moon to guide him. This was a practiced journey now, and it was best traveled at night. Danger lurked all around him most days, and he was finally on his way to the only place he felt safe. Years of war had put his senses on edge, and he was ready to let down his guard a little for the first time in several days. He was tired. He was always tired now.
I imagine this story to take place about 5 years after Paris. They have now moved into a home in the country. It may or may not be the house in Dorset where they retire. I am thinking...probably not. Starter home, for sure.
It was a surprisingly clear night, a few fluffy clouds danced in the light of the nearly-full moon, and Newt allowed himself to look up at the constellations above his head. His sharp, green eyes traced the memorized shapes of Draco, Cygnus, Aquila… They were familiar, constant, and a little calming; he realized they brought him back to nights of safety at Hogwarts, huddled under a blanket as he charted them from the Astronomy Tower with Leta. Distant, sad memories, now. He walked on, the summer breeze becoming slightly colder as it pushed his messy fringe back from his forehead.
I did so much research for this stupid paragraph. I looked up which constellations would be visible in England in the summer. I imagine he and Leta charting toward the end of the school year, May or June. This is probably taking place about the same time of year. Early summer.
Atop a hill, Newt stopped and looked down into an empty clearing below him. The moon shone on a wide expanse of grass, a rolling area cut out of the trees that stretched back to the small brook in the distance. He reached into his coat, pulling his wand out of hiding. Newt closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. He smiled widely as a white cottage edged with white fencing, several small outbuildings, and a large garden came into view.
I’m thinking this charm used is similar to the charm used on Grimmauld Place. A break in the matrix, I guess. Visibly, they just eliminated part of the valley where the house is so that it’s super hard to find. You need a password to find it. Occamy is the password, for the record. Tina, Newt, Jacob, Theseus, and Dumbledore are the only people who know the password.
As Newt entered the front gate and let it fall closed behind him with a creak, he could smell the flowers that had been potted near the front door and under the windows. They were new. They must have been planted in the last four days since he had last been here. A single light shone in the window on the second floor, dim and welcoming.
Quietly, Newt unlocked the front door with a wave of his wand and let himself in, closing the door tightly behind him and replacing the security spell. It was dark in the entryway, but the light from the next floor was enough for him. He slipped his wand back into the holster at his hip and, with practiced agility, silently began to climb the wooden stairs. He could hear a voice now, a single, soft voice that was coming from the illuminated doorway to the right of the stairs.
For those who read this for the first time, I was trying to make this story seem like Newt was coming home and someone was in his house. I don’t know if that was the feeling that came across through the words, but it worked in its own way.
Newt was captivated by the sight before him. In the light of a single lamp was his everything. Tina was sitting in a wooden rocking chair, her hair tangled and her eyes puffy and tired. She wore the same blue housecoat that she had brought with her from America four years ago, even more worn and ragged now than it had been the first time he had seen her wear it. She was singing a song as she rocked, her eyes watching the small bundle in her arms. The song was in Hebrew. Newt didn’t know what the words meant as they slipped softly and with practiced ease from her lips, but he knew it was probably a song that her father had sang to her when she was young. One finger brushed the fuzzy, dark hair over the baby’s ear in a repetitive motion as she rocked.
He watched from the shadows of the doorway until she finished, his shoulders relaxing and his heart clenching at the view before him. Here he could finally be free of the dangers of the outside world. He was home. He stepped into the room and Tina looked up toward him.
Their baby is probably only a month old at this point. Tina is tired. As someone who has lived that life, you don’t sleep much that first month because babies need to eat every couple of hours those first few weeks. This is doubly hard when your partner is away. Tina can’t have random people into their home due to security so she has probably been going non-stop for days. Our girl is exhausted.
“You’re home.” Words that held surprise, relief, and care, all at once. She smiled tiredly up at him as he walked toward the rocking chair, kneeling next to her on the floor.
“I missed you,” she whispered as he leaned over to kiss her gently on the lips. He rested his forehead against her temple as he lifted one hand to caress her cheek.
“I missed you, too, love. Very much.” He looked down at the bundle in her arms where dark blue eyes stared attentively up at him. Eyes that looked just like Tina’s; eyes that Newt hoped would fade into a dark, fiery brown as beautiful as her mothers’.
Most babies are born with blue eyes. The darker the blue, typically the darker color they will fade into. This one will definitely have Tina’s dark brown eyes. ;-)
“Why are we still awake, my little one?” The baby in Tina’s arms was wide awake, her eyes were alert and a single arm that had escaped from her swaddle was waving slowly through the air, her little hand grasping and unclenching at nothing. At the added attention, she let out a coo and a grunt as she blinked up at them. Newt reached out and placed his first finger into her hand where it was gripped tightly.
Newborns grunt, groan, and snort....do not imagine a little coo. She probably is snorting like a tiny, cute little piggy. 
Tina leaned back and kissed his cheek. “She was waiting for her Papa, I guess,” she whispered into his ear. Newt smiled widely, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face. He released a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet.
“C’mere.”
Tina rolled the rocking chair forward and stood, meeting her husband and sinking into the comfort of his arms, their child between them.
“I’m so glad to be home. Four days is far too long,” Newt whispered as Tina rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“Were you able to find it?” She asked, mumbling the question into the fabric of his jacket.
“I was. Dumbledore was very pleased.”
Honestly, I have no idea what Newt was trying to find. I never explored that, and I decided that it didn’t actually matter. “It” will remain a mystery.
Tina snorted lightly, “He’d better be-- and he’d better let you stay home for at least a few weeks before sending you off to Mercy knows where again.”
Newt chuckled as he leaned his head against his wife’s. “I told him just that not two hours ago. I’m needed here right now. No more trips for a while.”
“Good.”
Newt knows how tough this trip was for Tina. He put his foot down when Dumbledore asked for another favor as soon as he returned from wherever he was. He finally said no. It took Tina’s well-being and time with his daughter to get him to that point. Dumbledore is secretly approving of this and respects it.
They stood like that for quite a while, Newt rocking the three of them lightly and rhythmically. Tina leaned on his shoulder, breathing deeply and evenly, and their daughter gripped his finger as her eyes finally began to soften.
Tina yawned, breaking the peaceful moment before snuggling more closely into Newt’s shoulder. He chuckled again, rubbing her back where he held her. “Go to bed. It’s late.”
“Yes, but you just got home.”
“--and I will be here when you wake up,” he whispered. “Go.”
Tina sighed deeply and kissed his shoulder. “Mm, okay, fine.” She grinned tiredly up at him and leaned forward for a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Tina gently transferred the baby to Newt’s waiting arms before leaning down and kissing her forehead gently. “--and I love you, my darling,” Tina whispered as her knuckle gently caressed her child’s soft cheek. She stood up straight and began walking from the room. She waved at Newt from the doorway before making her way back down the dark hallway to their bedroom.
It’s probably around 11:00 at night, Tina will sleep for at least 6 hours, and it will be glorious. She earned it.
“Goodnight,” Newt said to her quietly as she slipped from the room. His attention fell to the child in his arms. She squirmed as she tried to get comfortable, letting out a single cry in the silence.
“Sh-sh-sh,” he whispered as he rocked her in his arms, “Shh, I’ve got you, Papa’s got you.” Newt shuffled over to the painted rocking chair in the corner, a gift from Uncle Jacob, and slowly lowered himself into it, rocking forward and backward steadily. The baby seemed to settle a little in his arms as she struggled to find sleep.
I decided that Tina called her father “Papa,” and when she introduced her baby to Newt, she said, “Meet your Papa.” The name stuck. 
“Do you want me to tell you a story?” he asked softly as he continued the comforting motion, “I’ve been on quite a journey for Dumbledore this week. I missed you and your mother terribly, but I found some truly interesting things while I was away.” Newt’s gentle voice rose and fell as he began to tell of wanderings through the woods, spellwork, and searches for old books. His daughter’s eyes drifted closed as he spoke of a meeting with a very odd old witch who had been determined to ‘fatten him up’ before she would allow him to leave her rickety, stone cottage. He continued his tale, rocking gently, as he held his child in his arms. Even after he was done speaking he continued rocking. He watched her sleeping, her cheek pressed against his chest as she breathed deeply.
Newt is a pretty fidgety guy, but at this moment he finds himself to be completely relaxed and happy. I’m imaging he’s pretty tired too, but he’s prepared to give Tina the rest she needs. Tomorrow will definitely be a lazy day in the Scamander household. 
He was home, and he was staying. War might be raging outside, but he was needed here. The rest of the world could wait.
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The Hard Things--Alternative Ending
Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.
Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.
Calum X Black Female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Because my characters should never be happy.
The Hard Things--Original Ending.
Materlist (on a semi hiatus)
___________
If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.
But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.
Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.
This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.
“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.
“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”
Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”
The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”
The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.
“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.
“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”
There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.
“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”
When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”
Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.
In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.
Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”
Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.
With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.
“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.
Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”
“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?
“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”
Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”
“So says the expert?”
Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”
Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”
A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.
Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”
“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”
“In the wrist.”
A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.
Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.
“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.
“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”
Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.
When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.
******
Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”
“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.
“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”
“Karma’s a bitch.”
“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.
*****
Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.
He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.
There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”
“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”
Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”
“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.
“Just me.”
“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.
“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”
“Laugh at you?”
“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”
A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.
“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.
And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.
*****
She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.
Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.
Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.
“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.
“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”
Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”
Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”
“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”
“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”
“What-what do you mean?”
“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”
He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”
“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”
“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”
“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”
“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”
“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”
Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.
“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”
She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”
Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”
“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”
“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”
“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”
He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”
“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”
“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”
“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”
“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”
“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.
“And a dog,” Calum corrects.
“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”
“Tell me something.”
“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.
“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”
“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.
“Do you want to answer now?”
“Are you leaving now?”
“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”
“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”
“What if I stay until dawn?”
“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”
“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.
“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.
“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”
“That darlin’ is what I call details.”
“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”
Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”
“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”
“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”
Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.
It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.
“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”
Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”
“The truth,” Freya confirms.
“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”
“That sounds lovely, Calum.”
“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”
“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”
“And if it does.”
“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”
“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.
“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”
“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”
“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”
“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.
“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”
“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”
“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”
“How often did you go between their houses?”
“Every weekend.”
Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”
“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”
Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”
Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.
“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”
“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.
“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.
“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”
“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”
“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.
“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”
“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”
Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”
They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”
“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”
Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”
“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.
“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”
“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”
“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”
Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”
“Someone’s self flagellating.”
“Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”
“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”
Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”
Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”
“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.
“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”
“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”
“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”
“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”
“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”
Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.
His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”
“Just a little sting.”
Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”
Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”
He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”
Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”
It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.
Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”
Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears
She’s just gone.
******
When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.
“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”
He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”
Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”
Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”
But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?
Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.
Calum,
I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.
I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.
With Love,
Freya.
P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.
*****
Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.
Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.
There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke
“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”
But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.
Freya,
Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.
I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.
Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.
Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)
With Love,
Cal
Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.
But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.
With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.
There’s silence that engulfs her and then her phone chimes. She doesn’t halfway pay attention to it but her phone almost never makes a sound because she keeps it on vibrate. “Who knows what I’ve done now?” she mutters but doesn’t look. Whatever it was she should explain it away for sure. “Why wasn’t there a guarantee money back or some shit with love? It would make life a hell of lot easier for fuck sake. I mean the reward was a lot bigger if I did decide to date Calum. But the fucking risk. Where’s a genie or some fortune teller when you needed it?”
With the frustration dissipating with every shout, she finally lifts her hand and looks to see what caused the noise. Her fingers slip across the screen and she watches a message lift up before settling down with the delivered underneath it. “Whoops,” she mutters. And starts drafting a message in response. Sorry, didn’t mean to send that. Was just venting and must’ve hit something in my blind rage.
She sets the phone down without another thought and then goes back to sorting out her mail, though she glances down at the yellow page that Calum wrote his letter. She’d all her best friend in a bit to talk it out with them. A buzz sound--no doubt some sort of alert. She listens for how many buzzes. A text coming through.
Turning over her phone, Freya reads who the text is from. The name barely registers before her heart goes into a frenzy. Calum--New iMessage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he texting me?”
A warranty on love is definitely a new concept. I assume you got my letter. You made it clear that you still weren’t sure where the boundaries were, I just wanted to say thanks. Or Duke did, I should say. You said you cherished our honesty and I’m going to be honest. I wrote a lot of different letters before sending the one I did. I’ve drafted a text to you nearly every day but never sent it because I didn’t want to put you in a predicament. But maybe we’re both at a point where maybe the risk might not be all that bad.
Freya exhales reading the text. How do you feel about splitting a pizza at my place tonight?
The message lifts and then settles again. The moments stretch for minutes. The bubble pops up and she watches the dots cycle from light to dark gray. I would love to.
Her hands shake and for a moment she wishes she hadn’t quit cigarettes. They weren’t good for her and she knows that. But god, right now with the shakes, she needs something to bring her down from the edge. The picks at her pinkie nail, leg bouncing. A knock at the door sounds and Freya freezes. The pizza’s already delivered, arrived maybe two or three minutes before this knock.
Another moment, maybe two passes, and then another knock sounds. She pushes up from the couch and heads to the door.
“Hi,” Calum exhales.
“Hi,” Freya returns. “Oh, come-come in.” She steps aside and waves Calum further inside.
As he steps through, he turns, keeping his back away from her. The door closes and he unveils a tiny pot, a greenish-purple plant staring back up at Freya. “I know you’re sensitive to flowering plants--like sunflowers or carnations. So I went to a local nursery, one that my gardeners recommended and one of the workers recommended succulents. They told me the name and I have absolutely no memory of what it is. Echev-I don’t know.”
Freya steps closer, gingerly taking the terracotta pot from him. It sits in the palm of her hand. “Echeveria. I think this one is a Black Prince.”
“Yeah, yeah, that.”
“Thank you.” It falls from her lips in a whisper. “Really, I mean it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It shall live,” she says after a big exhale, “right here on the kitchen window sill.”
Calum grins a little watching her open the blinds to set the plant in. “How-how have you been?” He knows he came under the guise of pizza. But that’s not even close to the truth. So he closes the distance between them, crossing the kitchen. One hand settles on her hip.
Freya turns in the inch or two she has. His gaze is sincere but hesitant. Like there’s more he wants to say, but not sure if he can say it right now. His cheek is a little stubbly when she touches it, settles her palm into the warmth and squish of his face. She hadn’t expected seeing him in person would stir her gut like this. Maybe it’s because she was only giving excuses. Good ones, but still excuses. “Tell me something.”
“Anything.”
“When I asked you about what you say in your home 10 years into the future and you said wife, did you see me?”
It doesn’t shock him that she sussed it out. That even with his vague include of the term, Freya would still see between the lines. “Honestly?”
“I’m making you an honest man.”
“Yes.” He closes his eyes for a moment. Not out of shame or some need to hide from the truth. But to steel himself. “When I said wife, I pictured you. And two kids--who in my imagination definitely had your hair texture and that scared me.”
“Scared you?” Freya asks.
“I barely can do my own curls. Two daughters with your texture would feel like jumping into the deep end without a floaty.”
“But you, theoretically, wouldn’t have been in the deep end alone. Me, my hairstylist, my mom, and stepmom--a lot of Black women to teach you a thing or two. But specifically two daughters, huh?”
Calum nods, his second hand sliding up onto her right hip. He holds her waist and she holds onto his cheeks ever so gently. He smiles at her. “That’s not to say I didn’t ask to try for a son as a third. Now you tell me something.”
“Scouts honor.”
“Can you really give into the risk? If you can’t, I will walk out of here right now and I won’t bother you again. Because above everything, I want what’s best for you. As much as it’ll hurt not have you again, we can’t keep going back and forth. It’s not good for either one of us.”
Freya knows he’s right. Would she regret giving Calum up a second time? Was the universe trying to give her the ever elusive second chance? Getting into a defined relationship with Calum meant she would have to figure out what to do after graduation and if had to leave would he be able to handle that? Was the chance of heartbreak worth the moments of bliss?
“I want my PhD--and I don’t know where that’s going to take me. I might be leaving California and that would be years, Calum. Years of me in a different state. And I don’t know, California doesn't feel like the end game for me. And that could just be the now talking. Who knows? But a lot is in motion and uncertain right now, does that change how you feel? Because maybe--maybe I can take the risk for a few moments of bliss.”
Calum’s knees almost give up on him, but he squeezes her to keep himself steady. “When I said I wanted as much of you as I could have before you left, I meant it. I absolutely meant every word of it. I meant I would take days, hours, decades if I could with you.The last time I even thought about daydreaming about a girl was so fucking long ago. And when you asked me about my future, it shocked even me to see you. That’s when I knew. I knew I was a fucking goner.”
“But I don’t know if I can give all that to you.”
“I’ll take what I can get it, Freya. And I am sure that in the future one of two things is going to happen: it will either hurt like hell when you leave or we get more time. I don’t know how much more. But I do know that those are the two options. And I will gladly embrace whichever one of them comes our way.”
Freya doesn't miss the inclusion of the plural. “Our way,” she teases with a grin, stretching up just a little. “Our way, huh?”
“Yes, our way.” Calum watches just how close she gets before she pauses. Her breath tickles over his skin. “Now, either we’re kissing and then eating pizza, or we’re kissing and then--”
Freya’s lip sealing around his cuts off the sentence. They exhale into each other, Calum pressing in closer and pinning her to the edge of the counter. Freya slides up against his chest just a hair, hands sliding up and then tying her arms around his neck. As they part, Calum rests his forehead against hers. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Thursday. Why do you ask?”
“Because I wanted to gauge if I could keep you up until 3 AM again,” Calum giggles. “But not about a competition this time. Like possibly pissing off your neighbors.”
“But I have the 8 am shift at the office.”
“And homework that you’d kill me for keeping you from.”
“Not quite murder, but there is a paper I have about 5 pages left on and should submit because it is like a third of my grade.”
“But Friday night?”
“I’m free--I traded a Monday evening shift earlier this week to get Friday off.”
Calum kisses her, soft and slow. It makes his whole body electric, to feel her relax into his touch. “Friday night then.”
“Before a night of debauchery, do you think we should talk? What happens if it’s too much or not working?” Freya doesn’t want to be the barrier of bad news. But she does like having a plan, a clear path to follow.
Calum’s not way to think too hard about things, to worry about things until they come up. But he knows Freya’s not like him. Clearing his throat, Calum holds up his pinkie. “This a pinkie swear that on Friday when you come over to my place for a night of debauchery, we will talk all about contingency plans.”
“You make it sound--”
“No, I know. You want the air clear and you want it clear sooner rather than later. And though, I normally am very much against a lot of the feelings talk. But for fuck sake, I already admitted that I thought about marrying you, so I don’t think now is the moment to shy away from it.”
“When you put it like that.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Freya hooks her pinkie around his. “But it is Wednesday. So, pizza and then if you want to stay after you can, I’ll just be working on that paper.”
“If you don’t mind the company, I would love to stay.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
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