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unluckyadept · 3 years

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Character Journal Entry: Felix

{July 15th, 2021T}

[The page is marked in a very unusual way:

The (bright red) symbol of a (the, rather) Dragon with arrows pointing up on either side and two lines underneath it, followed by a dash, and then the numbers “26-1021”.]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

It’s Another Long Story.

As I look back on the last year or so, I feel as though I have greatly [aged/grown/matured/wearied]. So much has been stolen.

But I think, to properly tell the story, I must start from where the first one left off.

It’s A Long Story, but you know that one, don’t you? The story of my destiny.

Destiny is the mark you leave on the world…

…and Fate is the mark the world leaves on you.

You can defy destiny, but you cannot fight fate.

=-=-=-=-=

[He was very glad he was able to see again. It was still taking some getting used to, particularly since his sight was not exactly stable; the imbalance of energy that caused the blindness was still an issue, particularly under fire in the battlefield.

Still—it was a great improvement from where it was before.]

=-=-=-=-=

You know, the reason that I needed to tell that story in the first place was to explain how the death of Prox’s last Warriors of the Dark Age

=-=-=-=-=

[The memory was all too vivid in his mind.]

[He could still remember those final words.

He crossed out the line and started over.]

=-=-=-=-=

You know, the reason that I needed to tell that story in the first place was to explain how the death of Prox’s last Warriors of the Dark Age

My relationship with the Proxans has always been a bit complex, at least in my mind. Other people view it differently. I know Jenna and Sheba in particular always held a very different view on my relationship with Saturos and Menardi in particular… and I won’t offer excuses for what any of the last four of the great Warriors did… to me or anyone else.

It’s no secret that I disagreed with their methods, and we argued—outright quarreled, in some cases.

But the whole truth is important to know. Context is necessary to explain to other people why it is that I have the outlook I do—to show them on what I base my opinions.

That’s why I needed to explain—I needed to explain why I was distressed at their deaths, even though they had come very close to killing me.

And to do that, I needed to start with when I first came to Prox—and, well, to go back that far?

It’s A Long Story.

=-=-=-=-=

[And he hoped that someday he would have the time to tell it in full, before his connection to his younger years faded from vivid memory. It was much harder now to remember his boyhood than it was ten years ago… and he knew that the memories would only grow more and more faded as his mind and heart were tethered to his adulthood rather than his childhood.

Yet another intellectual casualty of violence and anarchy…

Once the war ended and order was restored to the continent, he could turn his focus and energy to personal matters… and the completion of his memoirs among them.

The Venus Adept shook his head and returned his focus to the letter.]

=-=-=-=-=

That story is a tale of how I was forced to adapt to a role I had initially rejected—

Well, the first of such times where that sort of thing happened. Or would it be more accurate to say I was never given leave of the role, and it took me a while to accept that fact? That would probably be closer to the truth.

It’s A Long Story. Just one of several. That story began the Year of the Storm—the night I almost drowned in the river (again) and was rescued by Saturos.

I’ve read his journal entry on what happened, and I must say: it was very evident that the loss of so many of his peers had a profound impact on the man. And it was the death of the Kalt Islander that hit him the hardest, for that man was an ally who had chosen to aid them in good faith out of loyalty and solidarity; he was a respected outsider, but still an outsider… not under any obligation to risk his life for their sake, let alone lose it.

Before the storm, it was my dream to become a miner and work with Isaac in the Altin Mines. We would use our Psynergy in secret to accomplish more than a non-Adept ever could, and boldly face danger in the “outside” world, rather than keep to ourselves in the shelter of Vale.

I don’t judge those days harshly; I was only a child, and had no exposure to life outside of Vale except through Kraden, and he focused on literacy and mathematics more than anything else… at that point, anyway. The truth is that we were taught to look down upon “outsiders”; we were taught that we were superior because we had power, and that underlying attitude lent itself to Pride.

Combine that with a child’s limited understanding of the world and a boy’s dreams of independence and strength… and such a mindset was probably the best one could realistically hope for, as it was still based in a desire to protect and to serve.

After the storm—or rather, after I recovered from the storm… I was forced to accept reality, and the reality of the world was far more demanding than my imagination was ever prepared to consider.

When I first came to Prox, we didn’t know what would happen to us. We didn’t know what they wanted of us. And the only thing I knew was that it was my fault to begin with—if I hadn’t been so stubborn and overconfident in my abilities, we would have been far clear of the boulders and no one would have been at the docks when THE Boulder came crashing down.

It was a bitter weight for a child to carry—to know his actions had cost everyone around him so greatly, and may have been the death of his younger sister.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He paused for a moment, glancing up in thought.

He was getting distracted, wasn’t he?

…Well, so what if he was? He was under no obligation to censor himself on such matters.

Still—he would keep talking in circles if he didn’t keep the point he was getting at in mind.

And he had to let out a huff of amusement at the reminder—

Because that was why he needed to tell that story in the first place; it had all been building up to that moment in Mars Lighthouse.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

It’s A Long Story.

The story of how I came to be in that moment, that dark hour, at Mars Lighthouse. Why I was there, what I wanted, why I cared.

I don’t know if I’ve ever had the chance to state that outright—and it is rather important, so I suppose I best state such things plainly.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He hesitated for a moment, frowning. A bit of ink bled into the page at his extended reluctance to say the first thing that came to mind.

And even now…]

+=+=+=+=+

"Too slow!”

[Felix looked up angrily, biting back a remark. Karst looked down at him, lowering her scythe to rest against his throat.]

“Always too slow! How you ever managed to catch a Talon Runner is beyond me.”

[Felix was silent. The bruise from the day before was still darkening. He knew another slap might cause permanent injury; Proxans were far stronger than they realized, and did not understand how much damage they caused against someone who didn’t have their perpetual leather-hide armor…

…not that he felt THIS pair would have cared, even if they did truly know it.]

“Let him go, Karst.”

[The touch of death’s blade lifted, the chill of steel leaving him. The unlucky Adept tried to breathe steadily, waiting for permission to bandage his bleeding arm.]

“Now… Felix… tell us what you did wrong.”

[The boy gritted his teeth and spoke sullenly.]

“I tried to block her from hitting my face by bringing up my arm to protect me.”

“Heal yourself before you bleed all over the forest.”

[Felix didn’t need to be told twice. He felt very irritable as he got to his feet—

But Mendari grabbed his cape, jerking the Valean forward as he used Cure on his injuries, briefly startling him in the process.]

“I never said you could stand.”

[He glared back silently.]

“At least you are learning to hold your tongue, I see.”

+=+=+=+=+

[Felix grimaced ever so slightly, placing a hand to his cheek.

And ever so briefly, it brought another memory to mind—]

+=+=+=+=+

[There was a harsh noise as his captor suddenly lashed out—literally—and streaks of pain sliced across the left side of his face. He had unwittingly cringed and recoiled against the pain, so his shoulders and wrists were also left sore, and his sense of dignity damaged as blood ran down his face.]

+=+=+=+=+

[He forced himself out of such thoughts by clumsily getting out of his chair and walking over to the door to lean against it.

It took a moment for such thoughts to run their course enough to come back to the present, and he sighed.

It was considered offensive—not that that meant much in and of itself, given those who found literally everything offensive were far more prolific and prevalent than he had the patience to grovel to—to even mention the existence of such experiences. And certainly, he had a deep empathy for those who had suffered in such a way.

But he didn’t have the patience to keep silent anymore; it was a dark scar of the past, and he would not censor it for the sake of those who would demean him for exposing the damage caused by how he had been treated.

Leaving the writing aside for a moment, he made his way over to a window and contemplated the whole situation.

It had been almost a fortnight since they finally destroyed the outpost at the Gondowan Passage. They had been at open war with the Tolbi Empire since the night they bombarded the city in an attempt to rush in from the flank and overwhelm their prey.

He had since heard that there was a word for such a tactic, as described in the languages of the mountains—

And he had to say, having been on both the receiving end and the initiating end of such a “lightning war”, he was very relieved that his OWN recent military campaign had been successful.

Suffering through the sudden attack on the Western domicile of Lalivero’s capital city was a literal nightmare—his body could sense the large boulders being hurled down at them, prompting his mind to inflict him with reliving the day of The Storm. The enemy was well underway in destroying civilian residential districts by collapsing buildings and setting the streets aflame—well underway by the time he was able to pull himself together well enough to take to the skies with Arizona and go after their war machines they were using to demolish the city before sending in their ground forces.

He hadn’t quite had the experience to serve as context to explain his instinctive UNDERSTANDING at the time, but… when he had seen just how much manpower they had brought with them near Lalivero for the purposes of simply overrunning the city to take a swift victory, he understood that they would not withstand very long if the Tolbi could conduct these “lightning war” tactics via unfettered access to the region. No… they had a massive army, and had deployed a much greater force than Lalivero was prepared to handle. The region was meant to be protected by the river and the desert; bypassing the desert and neutralizing the river in order to swiftly strike at the cultural and economic capital of the only free peoples in that part of Weyard would have been a guaranteed total victory, if it had not been made impossible.

Having learned more about the wars of other worlds, he had a better understanding now of such matters. It was a risky strategy, one that relied very heavily on proper communication and firm discipline—one that was high risk-reward, especially when conducted in a setting where the transport of supplies would be a critically deadly weakness in the case of failing to shatter an enemy’s defenses.

He was lucky that he was able to take advantage of the downsides of such a tactic, back then; they were not prepared for a counterstrike and were ill-equipped to withstand a counterattack. It was for that reason that he was not only able to quickly destroy the smaller force actually attacking the city, but also cut off the larger force that was stationed at the ready only a few hours away.

It had been an altogether horrible experience, especially considering what happened after the Tolbi got their hands on him. And it was not one he would be willing to try on enemy soil; otherwise, he would not have DESTROYED the outpost at the Gondowan Passage… but rather, seized it for his own.

No; he was willing to take advantage of taking them by surprise in order to cut off their supply chain, but he had no intention of risking any more than that. Not with the current situation.

The unlucky Adept slipped his fingers into his hair, feeling like his eyes were weary. Perhaps that was due to the strain from the blindness, but it almost just felt like he had seen too much in his time, and his own eyes felt exhausted at recalling such visions of terror.

Because he could remember—]

[He could remember the screams, the fire, and the overwhelming sense of all-consuming evil.

He could vividly recall the helpless terror of those around him.

He could remember.

He would never forget. Never.

Two decades from now, and he would still remember that terrible autumn day—

The day they were dragged into war against an enemy that hated them just for existing, and would stop at nothing to terrorize them into submitting to a ruthless, intolerant, brutal, murderous regime of hateful Pride.

He would never forget.

And he would make sure no one else forgot it, either.]

[It took some while for the weight of it to fade, and then he just felt contemplative.

It wasn’t until after eating some dinner and washing up that he returned to his desk; at that point, he just stared up at the ceiling for a while.]

It’s Another Long Story…

[…But right now, there was only one thing on his mind.]

+=+=+=+

"{Keep your spirits up, lad. Too much for you to do to be dwelling in darkness.}"

+=+=+=+

[…Almost five months to the day—not that he learned about it until weeks later—

And he still…]

({…I just want to hear your voice again. Just… just one more time. Just one more time…})

#cje #unluckyadept #neshirys #It's A Long Story #It's Another Long Story #owutz

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monotonous-minutia · 4 years

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Les contes d’Hoffmann (Munich 2011) pt. 4

More reactions but fewer pictures

So this version was very interesting. First, it was a mixture of spoken dialogue, recit, and sung dialogue between the big numbers. So that made the dialogue kind of mixed-up as it was a patchwork of the versions I’m used to.

Then, there were some pieces missing, some new pieces, and familiar pieces that were shortened or slightly different. The Septet in Act 3 was gone completely, which is supposedly more authentic, but it would have been interesting to see how this cast handled it, especially Damrau, because she’s a goddess. But the way they did Act 3 wouldn’t have had room for it anyway. More on that later.

This production was very Niklausse-centric (100% okay with me since he is my favorite character). Brower is overall fantastic in this role and gives us a really layered portrayal of the character. I was a little concerned at first when there was no costume change between Niklausse and the Muse because I saw that in another one once and it was handled very, very poorly. But they pulled it off here and in some ways it made everything more gay because he was Niklausse the entire time, and is literally declaring his love for Hoffmann while in male form so it’s like...obviously. How can anyone watch this opera and not understand that it is gay.

It focused on Niklausse a lot--he was even listed in the credits before Hoffmann. In some productions I see the camera tends to focus on everything but Niklausse and we only see him when he’s talking or doing something important. But this time the camera followed him around almost more than it followed Hoffmann. I really think they were embracing the idea that this is actually his story. I mean, he gets the opening and the closing numbers, and all of his motivation comes out within the first five minutes of the opera. The overall plot is him watching Hoffmann’s love life thwarted over and over and in every single act he has a moment where hes making it painfully obvious that he wants Hoffmann for himself. It’s easier to forget that in the shortened versions which is why I like the extended ones the best. The only time the camera DOESN’T flip over to Niklausse every couple seconds in this one is, ironically, one of the most important moments: when he runs away from Pitichinaccio in Act 3 after being kidnapped. Apparently that’s when he saw Giulietta take Hoffmann’s reflection and somehow figured out how to fix it by the time he made his way back.

In this one Niklausse is ALWAYS doing something. The only other one I’ve seen where he’s this busy is the Met’s Sher production. He’s all over Hoffmann, all the time. He’s running around being adorable. He’s spying on the other characters. He’s eating a popsicle while watching Hoffmann serenade Olympia. He’s giving Lindorf the roses Stella left for Hoffmann and helping him cut off the stems, just to be spiteful. He REALLY does not like these ladies. He can laugh at Olympia because she’s a robot, but boy does he hate Giulietta. At some points he looks like he’d like to go fight her himself. But he’s too busy keeping Hoffmann out of trouble...as best as he can.

I loved Villazón as Hoffmann. This was my first time seeing him in a comic role. I wasn’t sure how he’d handle it, because sometimes it’s hard for actors to go from one type of role to another. Also, though, Hoffmann is kind of a comic and dramatic role. Villazón manages to match them both. I love his ridiculous dance moves in the Olympia act and his awkward, smoky flirting with Giulietta in Act 3. He seems consistently irritated with Niklausse but he also kind of has RBF anyway. The only thing I’m missing is his interactions with the villains. They take out the entire insult duet that they’re supposed to have in the prologue and a section of the Trio des yeux in Act 1, as well as their interactions before and after Schlemil’s death because they did it so differently. Because of these a lot of their interaction is missing, which takes a lot away, I feel. Especially a shame because Relyea is fantastic as the villains, taking on each persona with ease and making them totally believable as incarnations of the same person. His Miracle was phenomenal. I got so many chills.

Damrau. OH MY GOD ahhhhhhh. She’s so fantastic I can’t handle it. I love her so much. I flipped out when I saw she was playing ALL the heroines. Hot damn. She did it so well. Like I would have believed it was actually four different people because of how well she encapsulated all the characters. Her fierce, broken Antonia, her blank-faced, flighty Olympia, and her seductive, malicious Giulietta were all so well done. She had an interesting portrayal of Stella--usually I see her as kind of a snooty figure, or dismissive, but this one seemed really sympathetic. She doesn’t have any lines in this one, but she’s so expressive as she sneaks into Hoffmann’s room in the prologue to leave him the letter, and again in the epilogue only to find him dead drunk and having torn up the picture and flowers she gave him. I actually felt really sorry for her.

And of course her signing is phenomenal. EEEEEK. She gets all of Olympia’s coloratura on point and her Antonia is so wistful and her duet with Miracle was phenomenal. And Giulietta was ridiculously sexy and she got a whole new number which is awesome because in some versions the character doesn’t really have a lot to do, and the song, though it was short and not in itself spectacular, let Damrau continue to show off her skills.

I’m going to take a moment to talk about the poison scene for my own edification. In the Wikipedia and Britannica summaries of this opera, both describe Act 3 (Giulietta) ending with Dapertutto trying to poison Niklausse because he’s tired of him constantly rescuing Hoffmann, but Giulietta drinks the poison instead and dies. I have never seen a production where this happens, or read a version of the libretto where it does, so I don’t know where that comes from. There IS a part in the original play (of the same title) at the end of Act 3 where this happens: Hoffmann wants to see Giulietta, Niklausse (who is called Friederick in the play...I do not know why) tells him he’s going to get a ride for them and drag him home of he has to. Dapertutto goes to Hoffmann to try and convince him to go to Giulietta because it’s all part of his plan; Hoffmann tells him he can’t because Friederick is coming back, and Dapertutto gives Hoffmann a sleeping potion to give to Friederick. It turns out to actually be poison and Giulietta drinks it before Friederick gets back. But again nothing like that has ever happened in any production I’ve seen. I’ve seen her get stabbed plenty of times but this is the only one where she drinks poison and it’s not even close to what happened in the play so idk how it even got here. But it was an interesting device and it suited this production. I just wish we could have seen the moment where Niklausse breaks free from Pitichinaccio and runs out.

The set was so great. I loved it. Like Sher’s, it did a great job of balancing the comic and the dramatic parts of the opera. Act 1 was all pastel colors and patterned wallpaper, vibrant, eccentric costumes and bright lighting. Act 2 was dark and sombre, and the house was crowded with furniture and a bunch of giant books which really helped me feel the suffocation that Antonia was experiencing. And Act 3 was open, dimly lit, and had that huge mirror. There was a distinct divide between the two spaces--Giulietta’s room and the hallway--but there was no wall, so seeing the action on both sides, but not having them interact or being very aware of each other, was a really interesting dynamic, especially in the Hoffmann/Giulietta duet where they’re in the room getting saucy and Niklausse is stuck outside with Pitichinaccio, staring at the door. And then the prologue and epilogue, going back and forth from the tavern to being Hoffmann’s room in what appears to be a hotel (or maybe an apartment). The fact that those two sets are really similar though, and travel right into each other, adds to the feeling of intimacy; Hoffmann is letting the others into his life, even as he enters their space (the tavern).

I can’t get over Niklausse coming out of the wine cabinet. And Hoffmann not thinking twice about it. Was he just too drunk to think it was weird? Or is he used to Niklausse hanging out in strange places? Also Lindorf didn’t seem to think it was odd that Niklausse tagged along for his aria or took his hat for him or helped him cut up the roses. It’s interesting because there are some versions where there’s a bit of an association between the two, because they have similar goals but different methods (though there is a notable exception to this, but that is a rant for another day). Sometimes I wonder if Lindorf has any idea that Niklausse is also the Muse. Here it’s left ambiguous, but also Lindorf doesn’t have a lot to do, because his duet with Hoffmann is cut short and he doesn’t talk in the epilogue at all.

There are literally no two Hoffmanns that look alike. I’ve seen several, and even revivals of old productions sometimes have differences. There’s literally a whole book about it (which I most definitely did not spend a ridiculous amount of money to buy). Even so, this was the most interesting edit I’ve stumbled upon. It would have helped to have English subtitles so I could better understand the parts I wasn’t familiar with, though I was able to use Google Translate at some points.

Overall this was solidly one of my favorites. Niklausse was surprisingly adorable, despite looking creepily similar to Hoffmann. It was quite gay, but not as angsty as some others, because Niklausse was rarely in doubt of his ability to win the day--even during the Violin Aria; he recovered fairly quickly. Only in the Giulietta act did he seem to be nearing the end of his rope, so tired of Hoffmann’s BS and having to constantly drag him out of trouble. They have an interesting device throughout where Niklausse writes in a notebook at the beginning and end of each act, as if he’s recording their adventures. He’s positively giddy in the epilogue when the book is finished, to the point that he just laughs when Hoffmann yells at him. He has what he wants and he knows he won. I am a sucker for the angst, though, and am known to destroy myself by repeatedly watching various renditions of the Violin Aria that break my heart. This one could have been gayer in that sense, but again, the way Niklausse is portrayed in general is super gay and the fact that Villazón plays Hoffmann as pretty gay too helps in that area.

Also I will never get over this picture.

I’ll leave you with that.

#Les contes d'Hoffmann #The Tales of Hoffmann #opera #opera tag #Jaques Offenbach #Jules Barbier #Michael Carré #opera reactions #opera analysis #monotonous-minutia reacts #monotonous-minutia does lit crit #is it lit crit if it's visual media?#monotonous minutia critiques

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okimargarvez · 4 years

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INCONVENIENCE OF BEING ROOMMATE

Original title: Terzo incomodo (o Quello che può succedere uscendo con l’inquilino di Penelope Garcia).

Prompt: Luke asks Penelope to stay in his apartment until she will find a new one.

Warning: post 13x6.

Genre: funny, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, female O.C., Roxy, Sergio.

Pairing: Garvez; Luke x O.C.

Note: oneshot 58 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🐶🎈🎵.

Song mentioned: No vacancy, One Republic feat Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

INCONVENIENCE OF BEING ROOMATE

* the move

Penelope watches her colleague walk up the stairs to her (now ex) apartment. -Look, you weren't forced to come.- she tells him when he's close enough to hear her. -Just because we will live under the same roof for a while, this doesn’t mean that we will have to do everything together.- it's not that she always go looking or studying for them, often these kinds of jokes come out naturally to her, especially with him.

A familiar grimace bends Luke's lips. -No?- he asks, inclining his head to one side, making a falsely meditated gesture. -Too bad.- he finally exclaims, when they are practically at the same height. For a few seconds they simply stare at each other in silence.

She recovers first. -Ha, ha, funny, roommate.- she calls him on purpose. The man seems to like the choice. -Now, since you're here, let's take advantage of those muscular arms that Mother Nature gave you.- she moves away to let him enter. Luke looks around. He still remembers what he had felt the first time he had been there, only a few months before, when Garcia had invited them all to celebrate the search for a responsible inebriation. It was impossible not to be struck by every detail: the colors of the walls, the paintings, every single accessory. And now only the bare walls remained of all that rainbow.

He turns to her and bends his arm, imitating a body builder. -Do you like my muscles?- he asks, winking. Penelope remains just two thousandths of a second without words, so she rolls her eyes, unable to hide a smirk altogether.

-Did I say this?- she replies in the same tone, then gives him a little push (taking advantage of it to touch that arm that seems to have been carved in the marble by Michelangelo). -C’mon, there is a bit of stuff.- he doesn’t know if he should consider it a kind of encouragement. There are boxes of all shapes and sizes almost everywhere.

-A bit it's an euphemism.- he exclaims, chuckling. Penelope doesn’t replicate anything and bends down to begin. It is not easy to leave the place where she lived for years. Where she found her identity and risked dying. -Wait, don't lift that box, it's too weigh.- his hands overlap her and the blonde stays enchanted watching the contrast of the amber fingers with hers pale. Then she forces herself to recover from the daydream.

-Luke Alvez, who do you think I am?- she leaves the box anyway, mostly to avoid feeling other shocks down her spine. -Do you think I’m a girl who is afraid of breaking a fingernail?- she challenges him with her eyes and he doesn’t hold back.

Luke doesn't even seem to realize the weight of what he has in his hands, but who knows what he brought when he was at war. Why is it so difficult to imagine him in this context? -No, but I would be sorry if it happened or if you would be hurt.- he comments, before going in the direction of the stairs, instead of the elevator. She follows him, with various bags scattered, more than it would be recommended to carry together.

-Hell, nobody can't argue with you.- he hears her muttering, and smiles. They mostly continue working in silence and communicate with looks. Mainly he limits himself to instruct her to leave him the heaviest boxes and she reminds him that this is still her home, and then gives up. Luke also notices slight hesitations every time they pass through the inner courtyard, on the steps at the entrance to the apartment complex. It has been too little time since he heard JJ's report (but even if had been twenty years, he wouldn’t have forgotten it); it is terrible to have to accept that right there a bastard shot her and even if by now not only a a spot of blood is longer distinguished, it is certain that she can still see it clearly).

It is late evening when the man closes the door. -Is there anything else?- he asks, just for confirmation. Penelope shakes her head. Her blond hair frames her white face, made even clearer by the adrupt drop in temperatures.

-No.- in fact, she shudders, climbing into the passenger seat and placing Sergio's cage in the center, not particularly happy with all this fuss. -You've seen, in the end it wasn't so much stuff.- she comments, turning slightly to look at him while they fasten their belts. -There is still a place for something else.- she also smiles at him, continuing to turn her back to the building she called home for years, with all its pros and cons.

Luke seems to understand it and, in any case, he smiles too. -On the van, not to mention the truck, which lent me one of my comrades.- he specifics, however, turning on the engine and leaving. She puts her hands clasped on her knees. For once (the first, without a shadow of a doubt) she wears pants and not a skirt or dress in his presence. Definitely a logistic choice and dictated by reason, but not for this motive the effect was less destabilizing on him.

-Thank him for me and...- a break, full of possibilities. But man is destined to be disappointed. -...is he nice?- only his being aware of the consequences that could occur even if just for a slight oversight forces him to stay with his eyes on the road.

But it doesn’t prevent him from shouting -Garcia!- in an incredulous and reproachful voice.

She shrugs. -That's there, I thought maybe I could reciprocate the favor by cooking some biscuits.- she throws it there, improvising with the first thing that comes to her mind and seeming extremely credible.

Luke fails to prevent that mischievous smile from reappearing, half grimace and not even to pose a provocative question that hides much more sincerity than she believes. -And me? How would you like to thank me?- he winks and finshes at center stage, because in front of the blonde's retinas pass unmistakable images, forbidden to minors of eighteen, sinful thoughts, disordered frames and sufficiently blurred shots to make difficult to recognize the protagonists of the clip. And sounds, it would be better to say verses, masculine and girly ones.

She swallows and turns to the window, to hide the redness on her cheeks, certainly not due to embarrassment, but to an internal heat. -Just the fact that I treat you as a person instead of a Newbie seems to me something you should be happy about.- he merely nods without repeating anything and leaving her at the mercy of doubt.

*The invasion

The day after the only signs of the sleepless night due to the disorientation of being in a strange bed, in a foreign house (but which she will have to start to consider differently) are internal. Outside the blonde's face looks as fresh as a daisy, while she scolds her colleague for the fifteenth time. -Luke, don't touch that box!- she hurries and almost trips, just to anticipate him. -Have you heard me?- the man helps her to regain her balance, so he looks at her (taking the opportunity to give her a nice exclusive look and being disappointed to see that she already done her makeup, she doesn't have a single strand out of place, like at work) confused.

-Why? I just wanted to help.- she seems struck by something that she catches in his eyes. Perhaps fragments of sincerity, of purity mind.

She nods. -Yes, but there are some things that...- she gesticulates, unable to explain without revealing too much -…in short, I prefer that they stay safe, sealed in my room, whose access is allowed only under my concession.- she particularly emphasizes the possessive adjective, placing both hands on the lid of the box to accentuate the concept. Luke chuckles, but he doesn't just seem amused.

He scratches his head. -Uh, and what should I do to obtain the privilege?- without realizing, he leans as far as possible towards her, keeping only a few centimeters of distance between their bodies.

Not even the woman realizes it, although she finds herself asking aloud the question that is spinning on her head. -Why should you want to enter the only room where you can't go freely?- and for once, there is no trace of malice in her tone, only pure crystalline naivety and the effect is like that of water on flames: not always extinguishes the fire, sometimes it makes it even more powerful and devastating.

He is still approaching a few millimeters. -For the taste of the forbidden.- he teases her, never taking his eyes off her. -Or maybe because you're there.- he admits, not even doing a lot of effort, with an intense tone, which she ignores beautifully.

-Ha ha, still try to seem funny, you're really nice.- she gives him a little push and he reluctantly decides to settle.

-I know.- he looks around. -How long do you think it will take to unbox everything?- he asks, just to continue to have an excuse to talk to her, stay close to her, so as not to lose the grip on the thin thread that binds him to her.

Penelope gives him a dirty look. -You took me for an expert in removals or for Reid?- she still managing to make him laugh. -I have no idea!- she shrugs. -This is the first time I change my house, since...- she changes mind at the last- since many years.- and then, again, she understands that she must say it aloud, to be really free from her past. -Since I left Shane.- Luke never heard that male name come out of her lips before, but he immediately realizes that it's not a relative, nor a friend.

He then takes that step that separated them without thinking twice. -Hey, I didn't want to make you think about bad things.- he adds in a low voice, gently stroking her arm and marveling that she doesn't chase him away instantly.

-But imagine!- she replies, with a little voice that is a bit too fragile to be credible. -It is a thing of the past.- with a shock she seems to shake off everything. -All right, if you really want to help me, I'll satisfied you.- Luke smiles already. -And in return you can come in my room, with warning, it's clear, once a week.- he pauses to think about the perspective that opens up before his eyes.

-But?- he finally asks, already feeling the nostalgia of the contact with her arm.

-But what?- she repeats, not understanding where he wants to go.

The man shrugs. -Surely there will be a but, or a rip-off.- he explains, catching a weak fist in the side. -Ouch!- he exclaims, intensifying tones in a theatrical way.

-You deserved it.- Penelope replies anyway. -However... my condition, no, that sounds bad.- he chuckles, knowing that he will never get tired of her messy way of talking. -I was saying... my proposal, I already like it, better, I said, my proposal is...- Luke expects some kind of torture, so much so that when she finally explains her idea, he is almost disappointed -that you give me permission to change something even in the rest of the house.- the blonde seems to read who knows what protest in the man's brown eyes. -Not your room, let it be in roughing style, even if I'm sorry for Roxy...- she hastens to specify, losing the train of her thought again. -By the way, where is my wad of fur and love?- the laughter that was being born, instantly turns into a sweet smile, dripping love and adoration to such an extent that it is really hard to understand how both can ignore it.

-My best friend is caring of her, Phil.- he explains anyway, when he recovers.

-Oh.- she nods, then a light passes in front of her. -Is he nice?- in this case it is clear to both of them that she is not really interested in the answer, but to provoke him and tease him.

And he is in her game. -Garcia! Anyway, I accept your offer.- he continues to smile at her, he has never stopped. -Shall we seal the deal with a handshake?- Penelope's answer is certainly not expected.

-And what would you like, otherwise, a kiss?- and she almost feels bad that he doesn't answer affirmatively.

Only at the end, Luke understands that the quality of the objects of his (officially) roommate is far greater than the quantity. They throw themselves down on the sofa next to each other, too tired to notice how close their bodies are.

-So now that everything is exposed... what do you think?- she asks him, not forcing herself to disguise how much she cares about his opinion, but answering in her own mind that simply depends by the willing of having a quiet life. -You must be sincere, you know that I realize if you tell a lie.- she warns him and both end up thinking about two years before and of peanut butter biscuits.

For the same reason, Luke keeps his gaze fixed on her as he speaks. -I love it.- he says simply, proud of his response, because other words wouldn’t serve to enrich the concept. She continues to observe him for a few more seconds, scrutinizes every single detail of his expression.

-What?- but the man doesn’t yield. -If you're kidding me...- and he stops her protest by simply raising his hand.

-No, seriously, I like having few things, you know, we talked about it right the day you were complaining about your ex-neighbor kunf fu naked...- for a moment he risks losing the train of his thought (like her) -but your stuff...- his eyes fly beyond the woman -I don't know, it seems to me that the atmosphere is warmer, more welcoming.- he almost stutters at the end, and even a little blushes. -It looks like a lot more a house, now.- he ends in a sigh.

But his efforts are amply repaid. -Oh, Luke!- exclaims Penelope, her voice clearly moved, before jumping on him to hug him. Just as suddenly she pulls away. -Sorry, it was... I was catch by the atmosphere.- she justifies herself, even if judging by the enormous smile of the man, there would be no need at all.

-You’re welcome.- he answers in fact, with the heart that echoes in his ears.

*the routine

-Pen, did we buy the paper towel?- it feels strange to hear him talk like that. Both the fact that he uses a diminutive, something that no one (except Shane) has ever done, or for the whole extremely relaxed tone, but above all the use of the plural: we. As if they were something, a couple, that's it. A duo, sentimentally speaking.

She is sitting at the table in the kitchen; he has opened all the doors of every cupboard. -Yes, open the locker in front of you.- she says, without even looking up. And the lost object is exactly where she said.

-Thanks.- as soon as she turns around, he notices something strange in her expression. -What is it?- he asks, sitting down right in front of her.

She turns the spoon in the cup in front of his face, without looking at him. -Nothing, it's just weird not to have a case.- she simply replies, and it's certainly not a lie, but there is something strange in her tone, which makes him think that there is also something else behind.

-Don’t say it too loudly.- he comments however, deciding to keep such suspicions for himself. -Do you know what else is weird for me?- he asks her and the woman finally raises her eyes to meet his. -Find out that you are a morning person.- he provokes her, hoping in this way to send away that melancholy air that makes her seem so different from the usual Garcia.

-Did you think I was lying on the bed all Sunday morning?- she replies in the same tone, stretching her leg to give him a kick, but only managing to tickle his foot.

-No, but...- he understands that if he wants to keep her attention he must open up, say something personal, show her that he trusts her. -I've always had trouble sleeping over seven o'clock.- he then reveals her. -I think it's one of the many gifts of the war.- he adds bitterly. -But I didn't think to find you awake when I returned with Roxy.- yes, it's just seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. And on his return, he found the table laden with all good things, even for dogs and cats. And Penelope, not in pajamas, but not properly dressed for the outside world, but in a casual style, without heels, without make-up on and with her hair in a bun.

-Oh, Alvez, I am a woman of a thousand surprises.- she says, blinking seductively, mainly so as not to be outdone. Luke doesn’t take his eyes off her, running his tongue over his lips with hungry eyes.

-I had noticed.- is all that comes out of his mouth, and who knows why, it doesn't sound like a funny or provocative joke, but rather like the pure truth.

The blonde seems to notice it, at least at an unconscious level, so much so that she backs up until her back is shaped on the chair. -Uh, yup, then, let's have breakfast?- she asks, without waiting for an answer. And already in the previous weeks he had been able to sense her culinary skills, but here the level is so high that one wonders if she is trying to get his heart through his stomach. In that case, the mission could be said to be fully successful. When last only crumbs, traces of the assault, on the tablecloth, Penelope stands up. -I wash the dishes.- she announces, heading towards the sink with plates and glasses.

Luke's hand grabs her by the wrist, risking to make her drop everything. -But no, it is my turn.- he puts himself in feet and the difference in height between them is such as to make her waver for a single moment.

With the other hand, she frees herself from his grip, slowly, by pulling away his fingers one by one. -You can't even consider the days you're out for a case.- she points out, in a calm, rational voice. -And the last time you were here, you washed the dishes, so it's my turn.- she throws him a single sharp look and reaches her goal.

-I surrender in front of your impeccable logic.- he exclaims, raising his arms as if they were about to arrest him, even if she can't see him, because she gives him her back.

-And it's better this way.- confirms the woman with a smirk on her lips.

About an hour later, from the room of Penelope seems to come a song that it's celestial, to say the least. I used to leave the doors unlocked and leave the lights on, I used to stay awake, just counting hours all night long, I had so many empty rooms inside the chateau, Yeah, oh yeah. Luke willingly or unwillingly finds herself outside that closed door, listening to her colleague, friend and now also roommate (but not cohabitant, and here is the essential difference) she sings. I'm done with sharing space with people that I don't know, trading pieces of my heart 'til I felt shallow, I had so many empty rooms inside the chateau, yeah… Despite the noise of the dryer, which clarifies how the woman she is drying her hair (those blond, silky, wonderful hair that wrapped his heart like windings from the first moment), he manages without any problem to hear every single nuance of her voice. But ever since I met you, no vacancy because of you, there's no vacancy, no empty rooms, got no vacancy, ever since I met you… No vacancy because of you… And he finds himself hoping that those words want to say something, that it concerns her moving and above all, them. Hopefully he be the person to whom she is addressed, he who has filled all the rooms always empty inside her... even if the opposite would perhaps be more appropriate. Used to be that I felt so damn empty ever since I met you, no vacancy, used to be that I felt so damn empty, ever since I met you, no vacancy… No vacancy, no vacancy… Because she's the one who bridged every gap in his life; it is the thought of her that makes him come home from a mission anyway with a smile and a serene soul, without taking anything away from Roxy. Before you, only empty, now you fill every room, before you, only empty, now you fill every room... Every room... Every room... A pause, the hairdryer is off; the man senses that she is probably combing now. He imagines being there with her, having the brush in his hands and he is not able to conceive anything more erotic in the world. I used to be the type to never take a chance, oh, had so many walls, you'd think I was a castle… I spent so many empty nights with faces I don't know… He leans on the handle and unintentionally opens the door. Penelope stops instantly.

She is wearing a fuchsia bathrobe, which leaves her legs half-thigh down exposed, tied just below her breast. -Am I bothering you?- is the first thing she thinks and says, rather than insulting him for invading her privacy. This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back of his sanity. -I didn't think about it, I'm used to doing it at home, I meant the house where I lived before and...- he takes a step, only one in her direction.

-No, you don't bother me. At all.- he smiles. -I love hearing you sing. You're very good.- she stares at him intently, her eyes half-closed, her lips tightening to form a line.

-Thanks, but flattery will not get you anywhere.- she warns in a partially playful tone. He nods and turns to go out.

-I was sincere.- he adds however, just before fading away. About ten minutes later she reaches him in the living room wearing an emerald green dress, but, to Luke's delight, still without makeup. -What will you doing, this afternoon?- he asks, watching her sit with the corner of his eye at the other end of the sofa.

-I don't know.- she answers sincerely. -I still have to get used to the environment, to the neighborhood.- she gestures, pointing to the whole universe apart from her. -You know I have difficulty with changes.- he certainly can't keep from giggling.

-Oh, yes, I know.- a little too smug, but this time she decided to spare him.

They spend at least one minute in total silence. -And you?- she finally asks, just to get out of this impasse.

Luke looks her straight in the eye and she seems to be genuinely interested in knowing the answer. -I think I'll go to my friend Phil and then... later there should be a baseball game.- he shrugs. Certainly nothing special, all too trivial by Penelope Garcia's standards.

But she nods and chuckles. -Yeah, you're that type.- she also gives him a slight nudge, more affectionate than playful. -On this you would get along with Morgan, he was also very good at baseball, as a boy.- her gaze flies far, beyond time and space.

-I don't doubt it...- a slight twinge in his side. -And ... how is him?- she seems to try to escape his eyes, but finally gives up. -Did you tell him about the big step?- her cheeks turn red for a few seconds.

-In this way you make it seem like we went to live together... I mean...- she gets mixed up, and he loves her when it happens. And she has noticed ir. -...you understand.- she sighs. -Anyway, he doesn't know it yet.- an idea illuminates the whole face. -Maybe I could call him today.- Luke stands up and before he can stop it, his hand touches her knee.

-Good.- she doesn’t seem to react in any way. -I'm going to change.- he says.

-You don't have to tell me your every move as if I was your bodyguard or your mom.- he hears her scream behind him, and chuckles. He also thinks he heard her humming something a cappella, but perhaps he only imagined it.

He is still thinking of it when, in the middle of a historical hit, his phone starts ringing. While responding with a generic -Alvez-, having his eyes glued to the screen, his best friend teases him asking if this is not his girlfriend.

Penelope barely manages to distinguish a few words in the exchange between the two men, before pronouncing one in her turn. -Luke.- and seems to be enough.

-We have a case, I understand.- he sighs, shakes hands with Phil and recovers the few things he brought with him. -I'll pick you up, can you take my bag?- he feels the hesitation even though they are on the phone. -It's in my room.- he adds then. He listens to her steps on the floor.

-I don't know if it's really...- she tries to protest, but meanwhile she tightens the handle. - ...ok.- her eyes rest on the only object that corresponds to the parameters, perfectly aligned at the foot of the bed. -Found.- he hears her exclaim, but understands how she still has something to comment on. -Damn it, it's not a facade, you're really an orderly type.- she adds a few moments later.

Luke reaches his car, gets on board and slams the door. -And is it a wrong thing?- he asks.

-No, but it is strange for a male bachelor, even if...- he anticipates her, feeling again that thick in the side.

-...Morgan too was like that, I guess.- he says in her place, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Fortunately, the clinic where Phil lives is close to his (their) home. -Come out, I'm on our way.- he announces five minutes later, feeling the end-call click. She goes up, placing Luke's bag at her feet, next to her own and practically they don’t speak until they see the outline of the building in which they work.

Penelope says one word again; a name. -Luke.- but there is urgency in her tone, something that forces him to give her a quick glance.

-What?- he asks only. He expects her to hesitate, to change her mind. He's wrong.

-You'll be careful, won't you?- she asks instead, placing her hand on the male one on the steering wheel. He feels a shiver along the entire spine.

-I'm always careful.- he tries to sound nice and playful, but she doesn't compromise.

He feels her fingernails in the flesh and a dreamlike image passes in front of him: their bodies intertwined and she, while screaming, leaves red marks on his back. Scratches that don't hurt. -I'm serious.- he enters the parking lot entrance, slides his card and the barrier rises. She lets him go.

-Yes, Pen, I will do everything not to get killed.- when they are still in the car, he looks her in the eyes and she does the same. -But do you worry about me?- he exclaims, gloating.

She silences him with a sharp gesture of her hand. -I think it's one of the inconvenience of being roommates.- she replies, before walking quickly towards the elevator, leaving him behind, but giving him a different gift.

*the guest

It could be any Wednesday night. Just concluded a case in town. Penelope stays silent throughout the short trip, letting him talk freely. -So you are sure it’s okay for you?- he asks her for the umpteenth time, holding the door open gallantly.

-Alvez, it's your kitchen, you can invite whoever you like to dinner.- she replies, with a sharp tone and a little annoyed. This is also why he follows her up, placing a hand in the middle of her back. There are many drawbacks, as she says, of being roommates; but also positive aspects. Among these is the freedom gained in being able to touch her body and be touched in his turn.

-No, that's not true.- he says, barely moving his fingers. -It's also yours and if it bothers you...- she spins around, even to block that kind of caress or massage.

-Why should it?- she looks at him, but doesn’t give him time to reply. -However, I won't even be at home.- she then reveals to him, just as suddenly. -I go out with Kevin. We met and... he asked me to go out with him.- a slight smile brushes the woman's lips. But behind it there aren't so many false hopes not to forget what she feels throwing herself into the arms of an ex... nor to make him jealous. She moves only based on affection.

-Uh.- it's all that comes out of the man's mouth. Once again that stab.

She seems to notice something strange. -Don't worry, I'd never take him here.- she reassures him then, blushing because she doesn't know why she said it. -Now I have to go get ready.- he nods, throwing himself in the shower to do the same. He has always imagined her as one of those women who leave their boyfriend to wait (yes, although to be correct we should specify that he imagined himself in this role and that anyway it would be worth every time, to arrive late to the restaurant), instead she comes out of her room only five minutes after him. She enters the living room and both Roxy and Sergio stare at her. - How do I look?- she asks then, taking a ride on herself and make swirling her skirt. -Luke?- he literally remains speechless. So much so that Penelope approaches, she passes a hand in front of him. -Are you there?- he reacts, blinking several times to focus on her.

-Yes, yes, I... wow.- he finally exclaims, with a sweet smile. -You look stunning.- he admits without embarrassment. She lets herself go into a childish giggle.

-Do you say this as a colleague, as a roommate or as a friend?- she asks him though.

Luke stands up and takes a step in her direction, facing her. -As a man.- their eyes chase each other for a few seconds, while static energy can be felt in the air. -You are beautiful.- then he adds, deciding not to hold in what he feels. And she reads his sincerity in his face.

-Thanks!- she claps her hands together and then caresses his shoulder. -You look very good too.- she says. -So...- they look at each other, perhaps both wondering the same thing. Why are they about to meet other people, when there is nothing in the world that they would like to do more than spend this evening together? Without knowing it, they also dressed in a combination: he was wearing a red shirt and jeans, casual and elegant at the same time; she a red dress with a wide skirt and a jacket (in jeans) in case she was cold -...good luck.- she says, feeling a buzzing in her head.

-Even to you.- he echoes her, a little too late. There is something wrong. -Penelope!- he calls, when she is almost at the door. She turns to look at him, a faint hope shines in her pupils. -What time do you think you're coming back?- Luke asks, and she responds with a grimace. She then decides to activate the maximum protection level.

-I don't know, daddy, I have to send you an SMS first, so I won't find you two in compromising positions?- she provokes him, putting malice in an exponential amount. But the man doesn’t seem to want to laugh.

-I didn't ask for it.- he shakes his head. -Forget it.- she just looks at him. -Have a good evening.- fortunately only a quarter of an hour has passed since Penelope is gone to when the bell starts to ring. -Hi, Micaela.- he greets her, fully enjoying the slight shiver as she smiles at him. She is undeniably a beautiful woman: slender and sporty build, auburn curly hair, green eyes. She's really beautiful, but she's not here for that. She is here because someone has practically forced him to organize this appointment.

-Hello. Am I early?- he shakes his head.

-No, no, come on in. This is my humble abode.- he recites in a deliberately refined tone, making her laugh.

The woman looks around. -Oh, but... I didn't think a lonely man could have so much good taste without being gay.- Luke scratches his head behind, feeling a different kind of puncture. Like a sting in the back, while a little voice in the head reminds him that even when she is absent, it is as if she still were there.

-Well, good, I'm not so lonely...- he finds himself forced to admit. -I have a roommate.- Micaela doesn’t reply anything, she lets him finish. -We... We are colleagues, we work on the same team.- he decides to limit himself to saying, regretting, because he would at least have to present her as also his friend.

But she seems to be satisfied. She nods vigorously. -Oh, I understand.- she looks at the rest of the house, but there seems to be someone else missing. -And where is the dog you told me about?- not even Luke paid any attention to that. Too many thoughts swirling in his head.

-I don't know, it's strange that she wasn't here waiting for me.- she's not in her room, nor in the area dedicated to her, that screams Garcia in every single object. -Roxy!- he calls her. -Rox, come on, we have guests!- then, he has a doubt. He beckons Micaela to wait and opens the door to the only room he cannot show to his guest. And the dog is right on Penelope's bed, next to Sergio. Reluctantly she obeys, goes down and comes out. -Here she is.- but She remains however at a certain distance.

-Hey, honey, come here.- Micaela bends over, but Roxy ignores her. She doesn't growl at her, but she doesn't even show affection. Not even the first time she saw Emily, she was so cold.

Luke shrugs. -She will be on a bad day. Even the dogs have them, after all.- she nods, immediately going beyond the question.

-Yes.- and she even smiles. And it is at that moment that a perverse thought (needless to call it otherwise, even if it doesn0t imply anything sexual) appears in his mind: and if Roxy had behaved in this way with Penelope? Certainly, she would not have let this pass without doing something, she would have accused him of having corrupted her dog, of having persuaded her not to show her affection for spite her or would have started to grumble and whimper, full of pain... -So, let's eat?- the voice of the woman makes him recover. -We can continue the tour of the house later...- there seems to be something mischievous in her eyes, but the man doesn’t catch the message.

-Yes, it's not like there's so much to see.- he says. -Do you prefer to dine outside or inside?- she strokes his arms, naked and velvety, with an apparently innocent manner.

-It’s a little cool, if it's not a problem...- he interrupts her, placing his hand on her shoulder for a second, brushing her.

-But you figured, come on.- the dining room is already ready; he hoped she would answer like that. He also helps her to sit down and think back to the only time he tried to do the same thing with... with her, the light slap on his hand and the blonde's laugh as she asked him if he was training to go out with a real girl , one day.

-Thanks.- Micaela repays him instead. -What a gentleman.- she exclaims, blinking seductively. -Phil had told me, but...- Luke goes around the table, sitting in front of her.

-You don't have to believe at his loudmouth.- he mutters, blushing without an apparent reason.

She still seems to appreciate this reaction too. -For now you have proved yourself far above expectations.- she reveals, before taking a sip of wine in an extremely elegant way, a way that would make any straight man move. He is actually staring at her carefully, until both hear a sound like something heavy that has fallen, coming from one of the adjoining rooms. -What was it?- she asks, more confused than scared.

Luke gets up, already in professional mode. -I don't know, maybe Roxy.- he misses the weight of the gun in his side. -I'm going to see, stay here.- she nods. He sees the door of his friend's room and a half-open colleague, and he is sure he has closed it, after having let the dog out. -Hey, is there anyone?- he asks, feeling like an idiot. -I'm a federal agent, so you have chosen the wrong house to rob...- he warns, thinking of going to get a weapon, when the door opens and behind it... -Penelope!- he shouts. -Shouldn't you be at the appointment with Kevin?- she's still wearing the same nice dress and shoes, but the makeup is gone.

-Yes.- she only says, not just a single joke, but not even a short sentence of explanation.

She then stays partially sheltered behind the door and held on to it like a castaway, like Jack in Titanic. -What happened?- he notices a few more details. No, she probably didn't cry. But she is profoundly sad.

-It happened that he came accompanied and that he wanted to tell me that he is getting married with Gina.- she explains to him flatly, without trying to protest that they are not his business. That twinge again, this time on his hips.

He stretches his hand to caress her (the cheek, the chin, the shoulder), but then he doesn’t find enough courage to conclude the action taken. -Oh, Pen, I... I'm sorry ...- she shakes her head instead.

-No, don't say anything.- she tells him, though not putting much emphasis on it. -Come back to your friend and let at least one of us manage to finish the evening well.- an orange hair ball appears between her legs. Roxy is also on her side.

But Luke is already ready to send his appointment to the hell. -Are you sure, I could...- Penelope understands it, but it's not what she wants.

She nods. -Yes, don't worry about me.- the door closes a little more.

-This is not possible, but that's okay.- the man whispers, remaining still a few seconds there to meditate.

The other woman waits for him to sit before asking the obvious question. -It's all OK?- but her eyes are not turned on by real interest.

-Yes, it was my roommate, her appointment was cancelled.- why the hell did he have to tell the complete truth about a fact that didn't concern any of them?

She paints a sad expression on her face. -Oh sorry.- she touches his arm , causing him some brief shocks. -Let's eat?- even if he didn't understand it, someone is already thinking about after dinner.

-Of course, I've already prepared everything.- he leans over to remove a steaming pan from the oven. -I hope you like lasagna.- he can hear noises coming from the kitchen , but both ignore them. -It's vegetarian, though. You know, Penelope...- Micaela interrupts him.

-I bet it's your roommate.- she says, with a grimace that wanted to seem nice.

-Yup.- he confirms, with a very different attitude. -She doesn't eat meat, so, in order not to always have to cook two different things...- he starts to explain, but she silences him by stroking his hand and almost making him tickle.

-I got it.- she looks at him intently, without ever taking her eyes off his. -It 'll be okay, for once I will be a goat.- a pain in the back, while he's trying to appear amused.

-Ha ha, what a nice joke.- but Micaela doesn’t notice the forcing tone.

-And it’s just the beginning.- she winks and the touches his arm again, this time even by scratching it. And just as Luke tries to elaborate what is happening, Penelope appears with an innocent look.

-Oh, sorry!- she hangs on the threshold. -I don't want to disturb you, I just have to take something I forgot.- she starts looking for it, giving them their backs, but neither Luke nor Micaela open their mouths, continuing what they have undertaken. But the curly is reassured by the appearance of his roommate, she couldn’t imagine better; she had in fact begun to have strange sensations for the way in which Luke had spoken about him/her, too full of affection... but it is simply a feeling of friendship, almost brotherhood. After finding what she was looking for (a cup in the shape of a shark's mouth, directly from the set of Spielberg's film, The Beast, Penelope approaches the couple. -Anyway, at this point...- she stretches her hand to another woman. -I am Penelope. Nice to meet you!- she exclaims, and the thing that hurts Luke most is her sincerity.

-Micaela.- the other replies, imitating her smile, but not getting the same effect. -I've heard a lot about you.- she reveals, however, unaware of causing damage especially to herself.

In fact, the blonde is surprised, and for the first time she glances at Luke. -Really?- but he doesn't react. -Well, I hope they aren't too embarrassing, however...- a very short pause, in which the man vibrates from the terror of what she can say. -Good evening.- Penelope is about to go back to the kitchen, but stops and turns back . -Oh, please, never cook anything that contains cucumbers.- she suggests to the other woman, with the tone of someone who wants to imply that there is already a past about. -It makes a strange effect on him, I wouldn't say really unpleasant, but...- Luke blushes deeply. -Let's just say that later, cucumbers would not be the only long thing in the room. A word to the wise...- and this time she really disappears.

Micaela looks at him and doesn't find word for a good minute. -Wow, really interesting, your friend.- in the end she opts to take it with laughter and he doesn't correct her. -Where were we?- indifferent to what happened (indeed, even a little more intrigued) she starts touching him again , caressing his arm. Luke smiles at her, just happy that she doesn't want to go into the subject further. With this quite spicy atmosphere they manage to finish eating in peace, but the quiet doesn’t last long. Penelope returns and this time she has changed: she is wearing a suit (which he knows it's a pajama) that he thinks is still good on her.

-Luke, I 'm sorry to have to break your spaces again, but I can't find my headphones and I absolutely need them.- she says, all in one breath, completely ignoring the guest. -Did you take them, by chance?- the last two words underlined by a sharp look.

He scratches his head, guilty. -Yes, they are in my room.- he confesses.

She shakes her instead. -Ok to use them, but at least you could remember to put them back in their place.- she scolds him, and for a moment they both seem to ignore that they are not alone. There is something in their attitude, in their reciprocal way of doing, that could make Micaela worry, if it weren't that she just can't imagine them together. However…

-Sorry.- he only answers her, and he doesn't pretend to be saddened, he really is.

The blonde seems to be satisfied with his reaction. -Okay, good continuation, lovebirds.- she winks above all at the other woman, who this time can't hold back.

-Wow.- she exclaims, pursing her lips and beginning to give in to doubts.

-What?- Luke asks, trembling (thankfully more inside than out).

-Are you sure that you two are just co-worker and roommates?- she insinuates for the first time, something that he would have expected long before, something he feared throughout the evening.

-Why?- he replies with another question, trying to mask his hope that Micaela's impression is correct and that therefore between the two of them there is something more than a friendship-cohabitation. However wrong it is to have such a thought while he is at dinner with another woman. The heart goes where it goes, they say.

-I don't know, maybe it's just an impression.- she scrutinizes him trying to pick up some signals. -Why her headphones were in your bedroom?- finally she decides to leave him the benefit of the doubt.

Luke sees the answer before his eyes through a scene that seems to have been torn from a sitcom. -Here, mine are broken and I don’t remember ever to buy another, so I borrow hers and then at times we see the movies together and put the headphones to not disturbing Roxy and Sergio.- he babbles, getting stuck several times and feeding even more the suspicions of the redhead.

-Sergio?- she frowns.

-Yes, our...- he doesn’t stop quite quickly. -Penelope's cat.- in the kitchen, even if they are not able to see her, the nominated smiles. All notices that sort of lapsus, and then she doesn't consider Roxy as something of her own? Didn't all of them, in these weeks or perhaps months, become a sort of strange family?

-Uh.- the other woman comments instead, continuing to spin the wheels of her brain, but finally deciding to ignore her rational voice. -Wow, are you an animal lover too? You gave me a different impression.- Luke sees the only good opportunity he has left to get out of this mess. Will he ever have the courage to really expose himself with Penelope? He already knows the answer, unfortunately. So, is it really necessary to preserve himself for a woman who will never be his?

-Well I don't know if I can really define myself...- he tries to justify himself, but the other continues, ignoring him.

-I like them too, for heaven's sake.- bad debut, thinks Penelope beyond the wall, eavedropping without wanting, while they start to hear the noises of pots and pans that are moved. -But you have to have criteria, you can't consider them as people.- the blonde clenches her hands in fist, planting her fingernails in the flesh and risking to make them bleed. And to think that she could also like her. -Do you agree?- asks Micaela, but Luke is aware that she is close enough to hear his answer. And in any case, he doesn't want to lie. On what basis would their relationship be based?

-Not really...- he starts, and immediately sees the disappointment on the redhead's face. -For me, Roxy is worth far more than a lot of people I've met.- he confesses, even with too much effort.

-Mmm.- she bites her lips. -Have you ever hunted animals?- He can almost feel the tension in the air. Penelope almost even stops breathing, precariously poised on a chair.

-No.- finally answers and he hears someone cheer in the other room. Micaela looks at him and then beyond his shoulders.

-You don't know what you're missing.- she says, and a strange light shines in her eyes. -The adrenaline, the pursuit, that communion of...- she speaks freely.

Man's attempts to stop her are of no use. -Micaela...- she ignores him merrilly.

-The communion of the hunter and the prey participating in the same dance...- she continues as if he hadn’t said anything. -If you think about it, it's a bit of a dance, a mating ritual, too.- it's like she's talking to herself. -And the life and death that challenge each other and...- he even touches her on the arm, to make her recover from the trance.

-Mic...- but this time she doesn't even let him finish her name.

-And have you ever seen a live bullfight?- Luke shakes his head, but even if he was perfectly still, nothing would change. -It's a spectacular hunt, but it's great to see matadors and bulls united in death and resurrection.- he can't help but imagine what Penelope is thinking and what she would say if she were in his place.

And here it is as if she (that she, of course) had entered into him. -Actually the bull really dies and if you refer to spiritual death... Only the matador has this privilege.- he corrects her and also feels a certain pleasure. -The bull remains sadly dead.- and how to forget the tears of the blonde when they had watched a documentary together that explained the little spectacular truth hidden behind the veil of the muleta? -However, it's nice to see you so passionate about a topic, but...- he tries to divert the subject, he doesn't want to despise her just because they have divergent opinions, even if on ethical things and therefore fundamental arguments. On the other side of the wall, Penelope thinks Luke listens to her and really knows her; and at that precise moment, with one leg in the air, she is enveloped by two feelings that seem perfect for being together: sadness and jealousy. And she understands an equally fundamental truth: she is in love with her roommate.

However, Micaela seems to have somehow understood that a change of course is better. - Come on, tell me about when you were on the fugitive team.- she gets up and moves the chair to be practically stuck to him. -It's so sexy.- she blinks her eyelids once while her hand caresses his knee. And the other (which feels even more such, like the intruder, in this context) is imagining even worse, fantasizing only from the noises.

She doesn’t draw his attentions. -Well, I felt and I feel again, what you were saying, more or less.- he shrugs. -Tracking, the stakeout, waiting, patience, setting the trap, studying every detail... yes, this is definitely exciting.- he agrees. But the prey he has in mind has precise connotations.

-You see?- the redhead is getting even closer. -We are made for each other.- she comments and Luke knows what is going to happen and he doesn't pull back anyway. When between their lips there is less than a centimeter, a tremendous roar is heard caused by a cascade of pots, various scrap metal that falls on the floor and shortly afterwards something wooden, a chair, to be precise, and finally a body. Both jump, but Luke immediately understands the meaning of that commotion.

-Penelope!- shouts, seeing her on the ground massaging her leg. There is a hole in her pants. -Did you... Did you hurt yourself?- he leans over to see better. -You’re bleading... oh my God, you need patches, hydrogen peroxide and it must be disinfected immediately...- he completely loses his mind, goes into hyperventilation. -Maybe I should call 911...- he meditate to himself and thankfully he doesn't have a cell phone at hand.

-All right there, honey?- Micaela's voice asks, which seems light years away.

-Yes!- replies Penelope, but her voice is obscured by the male one.

-No.- at the same time the two also fight a staring contest.

-Luke?- she calls him again, confused by the contrasting answers.

-I’m here, just a moment.- replies the man, without masking the annoyance. -Wait, stand still.- he orders. -I'll go get the stuff. You don't move.- he repeats, standing up.

-You are crazy.- she comments, but obeys him anyway. -I can do it alone.- eye contact is still active. -It's not broken.- she points out uselessly. -You must return immediately to Micaela.- she is the voice of reason, for once. What she says would be right, it would be the right thing to do. But accepting this appointment in his confused state was already wrong at the preconditions.

-Luke?- again the guest asks for the attention she deserves.

He doesn't answer her and shakes his head, stubborn. -No, now you need me.- Penelope looks at him, almost in shock. -She will wait.- he adds.

-You will never have a woman, Alvez, if you continue like this.- she still protesting weakly. Luke goes out and comes back laden like a mule: bandages, plasters, pharmaceutical products in various formats. -You're out of your mind, I say it again.- he ignores her, bending down again and rolling up her trousers until he reaches the injured area. -Ouch, hell, it burns.- she complains. At the end of the medication, she hopes to get rid of him. -Now go.- she commands.

But he hasn't finished. -No, I have to check that you can stand and walk.- he says.

Penelope gives him the last warning with her eyes. -Luke, I'm serious.- and he keeps up with her, never taking his own.

-I'm not joking.- and the trouble is that he is sincere. Then she grabs him by the shirt collar, trying to pull him away, instead she gets the opposite effect, makes Luke fall near her own body. Too close. They stare at each other for a while, in a way that seems at the same time the same, but that is also new, both guessing what will happen just a thousandth of a second before it happens. He lowers and she stands up, until their lips meet, skipping the sweetness to go straight to the point and exchanging hard, hungry, aggressive kisses, too long postponed.

-Hey, Luke, did you solve? Penelope? Are you alive?- not getting any kind of sensible answer, poor Micaela enters the kitchen, unaware that she never had one chance to become her, having always been the other. So she remains a few seconds astonished to see them kissing on the floor, perfectly at ease. She was just wrong about one thing: they are really cute together. And against her will, also hypnotic. -I should have imagined it. Do you still have that colleague's number?- she asks, more to see how deep they are immersed in their world. -I'm sure he lives alone.- she comments. -If you don't count a goldfish.- she adds. And this last joke seems to shake Penelope, who separates first.

-Don't leave, it was just a...- she pulls herself to his feet, trying to give her words more credibility. -A comforting kiss, Luke was taken by the role of caring rescuer, right?- she looks at the man who, however, shakes his head.

-No.- he even says, sending her into a panic.

-At least someone here is honest with his feelings.- Micaela comments, throwing a dart at the blonde. If she were in her place, she wouldn't even have half a hesitation. -Listen, without rancor.- she spreads her arms. -I'll call a taxi. And anyway... Phil had warned me that you were a involved single, but I didn't understand in what sense.- she shakes her head. It does not matter anymore. -Talk to your friend, okay?- she doesn’t wait for an answer, goes to the exit, but turns back, with a mischievous look. -Good evening and, please... remember the Cucumbers!- Penelope blushes, cursing her own tongue. Live by cucumber, die by cucumber.

Meanwhile, Luke has also recovered. -What just happened?- she asks in an accusatory and angry tone, pushing him away with all her strength.

The man is in a very different mood. -It happened that you sent my date to hell.- he smiles, slyly, with a look like a boiled fish. And he takes a step towards her.

-It was you who threw yourself on me!- she cries, continuing her escape, slowly.

-Throw me on you?- he thinks about it seriously. -It seems to me that you did your part.- he finally says, but then decides to have other priorities. -Anyway...- he shrugs, he pulls back close to kiss her again.

Penelope's pupils dilate in a mix of fear and excitement. -What are you doing?- she asks with a trembling little voice, unable however to take her eyes off the man's lips.

-What I wanted for a long time.- he says, bending down. She doesn't reject him, but eventually Luke changes his mind. -Penelope...- he chooses to be content with holding her in his arms in an intimate way, not really different in form from their previous hugs, but still different in substance.

-Yup?- she replies, not knowing what to expect.

-What did you need headphones for?- he investigates, toying with her hair with his free hand. She understands that he thinks she may have done it on purpose.

-I wanted to see a movie so as not to hear you two.- she reveals therefore, with a sad tone. -I have the defect of having too much developed hearing.- she tightens the lips until they turn white.

-And the pans?- he continues, as he admires every detail of her face.

She shrugs. -I was looking for a kettle to make me a cup of tea. You know that...- He literally takes the words out of her mouth.

-There is nothing better than a good movie and a cup of tea.- he imitates his voice, making her laugh. -Except maybe a good book, a cup of tea and a steaming tub.- but she stops quickly and looks at him in a terribly serious way. -What is it?- he fears to have exaggerated.

-You scare me.- she admits. -You... You really listen to me when I talk.- he nods.

-Of course, I listen to you.- even if he's not particularly concentrated right now. -I listen to you even when you don't speak.- he warns, throwing allusions that maybe will be clarified later. He approaches her so that their faces are parallel.

-Why?- but their eyes are too.

-Because I can't help but find anything that comes out of your mouth wonderful.- he says spontaneously.

It's like a slap, a bucket of water frozen down her back. -Oh. You know... I think...- she understands that he deserved to know the whole truth. Even the one she hadn't even confessed to herself yet. -I was a little jealous, and... Sad, and I didn't see where I put my foot so I fell from my chair but got caught in a pan and the rest you know.- she spreads her arms as tightly as she can in his sweet grip.

-Yes.- he nods, before pulling her against him and kisses her. Like for the first, she kisses him back. -What movie were you watching?- yet another question. Penelope's hands are still sunk in his hair.

-He’s just not that into you.- they only talk to each other with their eyes, before changing positions. -But tomorrow you’ll buy a pair of headphones.- she tells him, trying to make him understand how the transformation in their relationship will not change other situations. Not immediately, at least.

He chuckles, amused by her intransigence. But he decides to play just as heavy. -If you sleep with me tonight.- suddenly the atmosphere becomes serious.

-Luke...- she warns. As much as she wishes (it would be ridiculous to say otherwise at this point) she doesn’t feel ready for it to happen tonight. She has already had enough emotions to brush the heart attack.

-I said sleep and I intend to sleep.- she states the man, with all possible sincerity.

And she believes him. -Deal.- they shake hands, but he only grabs it to take advantage of her and steal another kiss. Between roommates and cohabitants there is just one step. And they just did it.

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

TAGS: @arses21434 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @thinitta @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado @shyladystudentfan @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter @kamieshep @sk1l4targ @ilovecatswwehp @symphonyashley @jess-the-introvert @veronicafiore88 generalsharkherovoid

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#garvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #luke alvez #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #luke x o.c.#post 13x6 #tiziano ferro #one replublic #no vacancy #criminal minds fic

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twinkletoes-rp · 5 years

Text

A Butterfly’s Heart

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff Pairings: Adrinette, Tikki/Plagg, background Nathalie/Emilie Relationships: Marinette & Nooroo Words: 4,085 Other Links: FFN | AO3

Dedication: Surprise gift fic for @belles-lettresdemoncoeur for being the best RP partner I could ask for and to cheer her up since she hasn’t been feeling well lately! (Credit to her for some of the ideas surrounding Emilie and Mari’s care and the ‘Tikki’s choice’ line (I reworked))

Summary: After the final battle for the Miraculous, Hawkmoth – A.K.A. Gabriel Agreste – is dead, Paris is safe, and its heroes are recovering.

In the midst of it all, one little butterfly has a lot of TLC coming his way.

Please note: This is definitely a canon divergent fic! Starting with "Guitar Villain" in season one, Marinette and Adrien get closer and closer (they're also older in this because fuck canon's logic - they're seventeen here, almost eighteen in Adrien's case). Because of this, Mari and Gabriel interact more, and despite being continuously impressed by her work, the two of them butt heads personality-wise, especially where Adrien and his happiness are concerned. Thus (fic spoilers starting here!), after kidnapping Ladybug and Chat and torturing LB, seeing her as the source of his problems since she's always foiling his plans, when he finds out Mari is Ladybug during the final battle, he flips out and kicks the crap out of her, so hard and so fast she doesn't have a hope of defending herself - before finally trying to take her out of the game entirely. Also, in this version of events, Nathalie has always been a very good mother figure for Adrien, loves him like her own, and does not join Gabriel. She and Emilie are also a thing. Chloe is also not a Miraculous holder here, and her and Lila's bullying is much more severe than canon would ever (be allowed) to portray.

---

Finally, the Battle for Paris is over.

Team Miraculous comes out on top, but it isn’t without fallout.

In the end, Adrien needs five days to heal from his broken nose, bloodied-raw wrists, fractured ankle, and split lip. His bruises and cuts are still healing when he refuses to sit around anymore. How can he when there’s so much going on?

His mother is back, safe with Nathalie and Gorilla. She’s doing well, all things considered, awake and smiling and getting stronger every day with the help of the medical team, a fixed Peacock Miraculous and Duusu, and Tikki and Plagg’s combined magic. She’s walking on her own again by the end of the week.

It’s Marinette who isn’t nearly as lucky. It takes two weeks for her to wake from her medically-induced coma. From the extent of her laundry list of injuries—five broken ribs, a thrice-broken nose, finger-shaped bruises on her neck where Hawkmoth – Gabriel Agreste – tried to strangle her, the stab wound clean through her stomach, severe internal bleeding, gashes and bruises covering her body, and the fact that they lost her twice in surgery before getting her stable, just as a starting point—it’s no surprise. Adrien makes sure she gets the best care possible, calling the best nurses and doctors in all of France to come look after her (and his mother) around the clock. He’s thankful they’re professional enough not to press for more information after he claims she was just caught up in the final battle. (Nathalie checked them all out extensively before they were even contacted, and they still sign confidentiality wavers, just in case.)

Apart from Nathalie forcing him into the shower, Adrien never leaves her side.

When Marinette finally does wake up, she’s panicked and confused and in pain, but a tearfully overcome yet stubborn Adrien is there and does his best to take care of her. He calls her parents immediately, has the doctors examine her and give her something for the pain, and once they’re done and her parents have smothered her in crying-relieved hugs, he explains everything. He does it in pieces over the coming days, not wanting to overwhelm her too much at once, and with her pounding head and hazy memory of everything past being stabbed, she’s grateful. (She doesn’t remember he’s Chat Noir, for instance, that she knows that, but she knows that Chat Noir knows she’s Ladybug – Tikki had to choose between revealing her identity or saving her life, and Adrien’s tearfully thanked the little goddess a trillion and one times since that day for choosing the obvious. He will tell Marinette later, he swears, when things are…decidedly less complicated.)

She also knows that Adrien knows she’s Ladybug, and that was…a thing that happened. It took her several minutes to come down from that particular panic, but once she did, they talked it out. After a day or two of adjustment, she’s…okay with it now. If any civilian were to know her secret, especially now that the danger’s passed…she’s so glad it’s him.

It’s another week and two days of going in and out of consciousness and healing before Marinette is able to stay awake through the day. She still can’t move much, let alone get out of bed or walk yet, but she’s getting there, and that’s all any of them cares about. She laughs happily when Tikki snuggles into her cheek in congratulations, Plagg nuzzling into her hand and purring loudly—

—and that’s when something that’s been on the edges of her previously-foggy mind finally hurtles to the forefront with a sudden jolt of clarity. Marinette springs upright like she’s been shocked, breath hitching at the pain and realization both. At her side, Adrien is instantly on high alert, instinctively taking her hand while he looks and listens for anything that might be a threat. “Marinette? What is it?”

"W-what about Nooroo? Is he okay? Where is he?"

Adrien blinks for a long moment, and then he softens. Of course. Typical Marinette. Always thinking of other people even when she’s the one who almost died. He’d managed to get the Butterfly Miraculous off his father before it could be destroyed along with him, and he’d been keeping it with him for safekeeping. He figured she’d ask eventually, so it doesn’t take more than that for him to bring it out to show her. She immediately grabs it and puts it on.

“Marinette, wait! You might not be strong enough for—!” Tikki tries to warn, Adrien and Plagg just as worried, but it’s already too late. Even if it wasn’t, they know she would have done it anyway. It’s just how she is when she cares about someone. It’s why they love her.

For now, all they can do is wait on bated breath. Plagg reaches for Tikki’s paw, the show of support for her as much as him. It’s been centuries since they’ve seen their youngest…

There’s a flash of light, and the butterfly Kwami materializes before them. Opening his eyes, Nooroo looks around, confused and worried. "Where is—?" But then, he's hit with that feeling every Kwami gets when his holder, legitimate or not, dies, and he curls in on himself. "Oh, no... M-Master..."

Realizing he’s not alone, he cautiously takes in the others in the room. Seeing Marinette with the brooch, his little face fills with tentative hope. "M-Mistress...?"

Mari can only smile kindly, a bit sadly, and shake her head, gesturing to her earrings. “Sorry…”

He gasps instantly, a shocked, awed smile coming to his face, and he sweeps into a sort of bow. "Oh, Ladybug! Forgive me, I did not know it was you!"

Marinette flushes brightly at his reaction, sending a confused, alarmed glance the others’ way. Adrien seems to be in the same boat as her, but Plagg is as exasperatedly fond as either of the kids has ever seen him, and Tikki just stares at Nooroo like she’s finally gotten back something precious. Turning back to Nooroo, Mari waves her hands in front of her carefully, not wanting to scare him, a nervous smile on her lips. "Y-you don't have to bow, really! I'm not t-that important! And don't worry about it, i-it's okay! We've never met before, so how could you know, right?"

Nooroo comes out of the bow a bit sheepish, a slightly darker purple blush coming through, and Marinette just melts. She bows right back, as low as she can in her condition, just like her mother taught her, pain be damned. "I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It's very nice to finally meet you, Nooroo. Tikki’s told me so much about you."

He feels less silly at her bow, she sees, which was her goal, and she holds out a small, gentle hand – an invitation, not a command. "I'm sorry to wake you up like this. I know you need your rest, and you’ve more than earned it. But I just...” she softens further, “…I wanted to see how you were doing. I've been worried about you for a long time. We all have been. The other Kwamis, too.” Her smile gentles, becomes the tiniest bit sad again, while her empathy rises. “You've...you've been through a lot, haven't you?"

She wants to cry at all the awful things he must have suffered at Gabriel's hands. She doesn't realize a tear's actually slipped out until there's a soft fluttering at her cheek, catching and wiping the tear away. "Please do not cry on my behalf, Marinette. I will be fine,” Nooroo reassures, backing up an inch or two to give her some space. Normally, he wouldn’t dare get this close to anyone, never mind someone he just met, even Ladybug, after what he's just been through, but...he gets a very good vibe from this child. He feels...safe with her.

She breathes a laugh and smiles a little more. She wants to cuddle him, to promise him no one will ever mistreat or misuse him or his powers again while she’s around, but she doesn't want to scare him off. Soon, she hopes. "Thank you, Nooroo. I'm happy to hear that. But until then, if you’ll have me, I'll do anything I can to help you. I've...been through similar things, so I know at least some of what you're feeling." Adrien squeezes her hand. Nooroo looks a little confused, and she can’t blame him. If he wants, she’ll tell him all about Chloe’s bullying growing up and Lila’s lies and manipulation later. She glances at Adrien, warming. "I'm sure Adrien will want to help, too.”

The boy nods vehemently, more than once. “Of course! I—” He looks away, suddenly nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. What if…Nooroo doesn’t want his help? What if he blames him, is mad at him, for not suspecting and confronting his father to save him earlier, regardless of how dangerous that would have been? But…looking at the little guy, he doesn’t seem angry in the slightest. If anything, he seems delighted to be feeling happy and safe for the first time in forever and just as awed to be meeting him as he was Ladyb—er, Marinette. Taking a breath, Adrien steels himself and comes back, determined as ever. “I want to help undo what my father’s done to you. And if I can’t quite do that, then…” he smiles sweetly, “…if I can at least help the healing process in any way, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’d be honored.” He follows Marinette’s earlier lead and bows as low as he can. “It’s great to meet you, Nooroo. I’m Adrien Ageste.”

Nooroo smiles shyly and returns the bow, more confident this time. He doesn’t miss the way Adrien is particular in using his real name with no hints toward his own Miraculous. He figures that’s on purpose. Perhaps Marinette doesn’t know...? How interesting… He’s sure Tikki and Plagg will fill him in later. “The pleasure is mine, Adrien.” That aside, he straightens and has this to say, looking the boy right in the eyes: “You are incredibly brave to stand against your father as you have. Countless others would have turned and run without hesitation. Regardless of his choices, you are worthy, indeed. Do not doubt yourself.”

Adrien’s eyes widen, his mouth forming a small ‘o,’ and for a moment, Nooroo wonders if he’s said too much, shrinking and an apology already on his lips. A glance Marinette’s way shows she’s confused, and he senses some puzzle pieces might be fitting into cracked memories, but he can tell she hasn’t figured it out, so he thinks he’s safe. He was careful to be cryptic, of course, but he knows firsthand (technically) just how clever this Ladybug is.

All the same, Nooroo is opening his mouth to apologize, almost reflexively, just in case, when Adrien’s eyes well up with tears and a touched smile forms as his heart swells with gratitude and intense affection for the Kwami. The boy breathes a shaky laugh, the hand in Marinette’s – the hand he’d used to Cataclysm his own father right in the face – trembles, but his smile holds, and he nods, swearing then and there that he’s going to be there for Nooroo every step of the way from now on. He owes him that much. Nooroo deserves that much. “R-right. I’ll do my best. We’ll—we can do it together, all of us.” Marinette nods and squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Nooroo.”

It’s Nooroo’s turn to be surprised, even shocked, a blush and small “Oh…!” leaving him, but he’s so happy, and it’s a wonderful feeling. He laughs, the sound like tinkling bells so foreign to him now that he startles himself at first, going with it at Plagg and Tikki’s delight. Adrien and Marinette immediately know they want to hear it as often as they can. “Of—of course, Mas—A-Adrien! I meant every word!”

Marinette softens. “I’m sure Tikki and Plagg will—” Glancing over at Tikki, she pauses. There are huge tears rolling down Tikki's face while Plagg does his best to comfort her, and she can tell she’s barely holding back sobs. "T-Tikki, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Tikki answers with a lurching sob and a cry of "My baby's home!" before surging forward to wrap Nooroo in what he’s pretty sure is the tightest hug he's ever gotten. He surprises himself by accepting it as easily as he does and hugging back just as tightly, letting her cry and crying a bit himself. He should have known he’d accept it from her, though, his mother in every sense, divine creation be damned. He was so alone and so scared for so long... But he's safe now, with her, with Plagg, with these wonderful, extraordinary children. He knows he is.

When they separate minutes later, Nooroo looks between Marinette and Adrien and once again bows as low as he can. This time, they don’t stop him. "Thank you for saving me, Lady—er, Marinette and Adrien. I cannot thank you enough. I am in your debt."

Marinette melts all the more. She’s still confused about the parts of the last battle she can’t remember, but for now, she’s almost certain she’s adopted the little sweetheart. "Of course, Nooroo. But there’s no need to thank us. We're just glad you're finally home safe. That's the important thing."

Adrien nods, threading his fingers through Marinette’s and squeezing. (He doesn’t notice how red she’s turning just from that, but she returns the gesture, a shy beam coming to her face, and that’s all he needs.) “Mari’s right. You and Duusu are home and fixed now, and everything can only get better from here. I’d say that’s a pretty good place to start, wouldn’t you?”

After being with Gabriel for so long, even if his service was unwilling and terrifying, Nooroo feels some parts of him are still loyal to the man, and despite being the youngest Kwami, Nooroo isn’t stupid. He knows he’ll probably need a lot of care and help and time to work through everything he’s been through, but...he also knows they're right. He knows what he went through was anything but good, knows that the loyalty he feels is from the abuse instead of anything remotely earned or deserved, and it feels…impossibly good to finally be able to admit that, even to himself, without fear of backlash. And here, with these people and his fellow Kwamis…he truly does feel like he’ll be okay.

So, he just smiles, perhaps tiny, but bigger than it’s been in so many years, and he nods. "I...I agree! I am happy, too, to be...a-away from...him..." He can't say his name, and he doesn't want to call him ‘Master’ because he—he wasn’t, not really, not by right or Choice, as it should be. So, he settles for that for now. He'll find something to call him in time. For now...

It's only then that he notices just where they are, in some kind of sterile human environment meant for healing, and he isn't sure how he didn't realize how...hurt Marinette is until now. There are still some ugly yellow bruises and scrapes on Adrien, too. Perhaps being awake and free fazed him too much.

"Oh, no...!" he says, so horrified and quiet it's barely a whisper, fluttering closer to look between them and take in their injuries as best he can. "You're hurt! You're—you're humans, human children! Why—? Your suits should have—?!" Then, his eyes widen and well with tears, going pale as memories flood back. "I...I helped him hurt you! I...I...!"

Marinette and Adrien trade a concerned glance, Tikki and Plagg, too. Is he only just now remembering more from the battle? Does he—did he maybe block out all Miraculous battles for his own sanity? Mari makes to reach out to him carefully, but she stops barely halfway, unable to bring herself to get any closer. The last thing she wants to do is scare the poor babe. “N-Nooroo? Are you okay?”

He snaps to look at Marinette, wide, haunted eyes moving from her face to her heart and back like he's frantically checking something, looking more heartbroken by the second, a few tears rolling down. "Ladyb—M-Marinette, you—you died...! Y-your human body gave out, m-more than once, you...! Y-you're lucky to be here at all! And yet, you still...!" He sobs outright and flies toward her faster than he can remember in all his years, nuzzling into a tiny, unmarred section of her cheek. "I-I'm so sorry...! Y-you didn't deserve that...a-any of it...! A-Adrien either! I...p-please...c-can you e-ever forgive me...?"

Marinette's heart automatically goes out to the poor thing, and this time, she reaches up to almost hold him, but leaves more than enough room for him to tell her no or shy away or get away, if he needs it, just in case. She doesn't want to make him feel afraid or trapped. He's felt both for far too long. She'd rather die (maybe not the best choice of words right now, but too bad) than add to that.

"Hey... Hey, Nooroo... It's okay, minou..." She makes sure her voice is light, calm, and gentle like a warm summer breeze. "Can you...can you look at me? And I mean, really look at me?" It takes a few tries, but he does look her in the eyes eventually, and she melts a bit more. She doesn’t understand how anyone could be so terrible to a being so inherently good. She wishes she could do more for him. She will, somehow. "What wielders do with Kwamis’ powers...it's not the Kwamis’ fault. Some people, like Gabriel, only see you as tools. They want to use your power and abuse it for their own gain, no matter what it does to them or the Kwamis or anyone else. That is never the Kwamis' fault. What Gabriel did to me, to us, using your power…it was not your fault. It will never be your fault."

He still looks unconvinced, so very guilty, so she purses her lips tightly before trying another way. "Let me ask you something…" She takes a slow, deep breath. This might be hard for him (and Adrien, Tikki, and Plagg) to hear, but it's necessary. This is where her own painful memories of the final battle, what she has so far anyway, will come in handy, she supposes. "When...when Gabriel was Hawkmoth and he...he was beating me, when he...stabbed me," Nooroo flinches at the reminders, tearing up all the more, but she just smiles gently in kind, hoping to reassure him, "you didn't want to do it, right? You...I'm sure you asked him to stop, told him to, begged him, did your best to resist and fight back. Am I right?"

Nooroo nods immediately, so frantic that she's afraid he might give himself whiplash. His eyes are wide and shell-shocked and somewhat far away, he looks even paler all of a sudden, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the tears become too much. "Of course I did!” His little voice is still quiet, but it’s louder than it’s been yet, shaken and pained. “I asked him what he was doing, why he was hurting you, begged him to stop, tried to tell him you didn't do anything wrong—a-and when that didn't work, I-I said I wouldn't let him hurt you, ordered him to stop! I-I fought him as hard as I could! It's—it's why I lost energy and dropped his—his transformation before Chat Noir could—!"

Mari holds up a hand to stop him, still smiling, though the memories have made her pale as well. Her hand shakes the slightest bit, the one in Adrien’s, too, making him hold on tighter. Nooroo goes silent immediately, grateful for the reprieve, tiny chest heaving with emotion as he watches her confusedly. Adrien and the other two Kwamis are doing the same, not sure what she’s cooking up, but trusting her implicitly. "See?" she entreats, her voice falling tender and soft like the morning sunrise, shaky undercurrent be damned. "You wanted to know why, and you wanted to help me. You fought him every step of the way and did your best to stop him. I might be hurt, sure, and I...I might have lost the fight a few times and been in a coma for a while, but...I'm still here. I'm alive, and I'm sure that is because of you, Nooroo.”

Marinette is pretty sure she’s turning his entire view of the situation on its head. Good. “You dropping the transformation when you did gave Chat Noir the time and opening he needed to step in and take Gabriel down. Without that, he might have kept beating me, and Chat might not have been able to stop him. He might have killed me for real." His eyes are glued on hers, wide and shocked and awed once again, but for entirely different reasons this time, better ones than the mantle she holds, and it’s her heart’s turn to swell. "I wouldn't be here, alive, right now without you, Nooroo." Tears gather in her eyes, too, and she can't help but smile softly, lightly, like sunlight through clouds. "So, thank you so much. Thank you for everything."

Adrien is tearing up himself at the display and revelations here, and he has his own thanks to give for saving his best friend, partner, and the love of his life, but he can do that later. For now, he’s going to let them have their moment. They’ve earned it, and he can’t deny how cute they are together.

Nooroo is so happy and relieved and already loves her so much that he sobs with it, his tears overjoyed and touched now, and he zooms in to nuzzle into her, hug her cheek, wipe away her tears that fall. “Th-thank you, Marinette!”

Once they’ve both calmed down, he still has one more thing. "You've been...having nightmares, I expect." Nooroo glances over at Adrien, Tikki, and Plagg to confirm, and it's a silent, unanimous yes. Vivid memories of her heart rate monitor spiking in the dark of night, shaking, hyperventilating, tears, broken cries of Chat or Adrien’s name, whispered pleas and apologies. He moves to nuzzle into her a little more, voice lowering. "I can help with that. Let me guard your dreams, Marinette. Let me do that much, if not for your sake, then for mine. Please."

Mari swallows the lump that forms at how...sweet he is. Tikki was so, so right to have spoken so highly of him. Someday, she’ll find a way to tell him just how amazing he is—and have him believe it. "If that’s something you feel you need to do, if you're sure...I'd really like that. I trust you, Nooroo. Thank you, little friend."

A small gasp leaves him, and she draws back, worried she said something wrong. But as luck would have it, the little butterfly is positively beaming, not so much tentative anymore as glowing. "A...a friend? Really? I've—I've never had one of those before!" Then, remembering himself, a faint blushing coloring his cheeks, "Ah! A human one, that is!"

Marinette laughs, softening. "I know exactly how that feels.” She glances over to meet Adrien’s eyes, warming. She's sure the two of them can bond over that later, once they open up about their similar experiences. She’d love that. "And now you do. You have me now." Nooroo cheers and flutters up to press his forehead to the star of her face. Happily pressing back, she motions to Adrien, too. "I'm sure Adrien will be, too.”

He nods without hesitation. “Absolutely!”

Marinette grins brightly. “Emilie, Nathalie, Gorilla, my parents...the rest of Team Miraculous. You'll have lots of friends soon enough, Nooroo. If you want them, of course."

Nooroo is crying again, but he's hugging Mari's cheek as she’s found only a Kwami can, and this time, he gladly lets her touch him, her fingers stroking his back below his wings with the gentlest of caresses. He snuggles in more, as much as he possibly can. "M-more than anything...!"

Then it's settled.

“Welcome home, Nooroo.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug fic #ML fic #Adrienette #Adrinette #Nooroo #Any feedback is appreciated #Please reblog #Nooroo deserves everything and Mari is gonna be the one to give it to him damn it #Nooroo and Mari BROTP forever

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high-queen-margo · 5 years

Text

Just to Bring You Home

Summary: After Margo is attacked in Fillory, Fen convinces her to hire a personal bodyguard. She chooses someone from a world she's been trying to forget. Prompt fill for @mintealesbian on @themagiciansprompts Pairing: Margo/Kady Length: 5,183

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Kady ambled through the halls of Castle Whitespire, popping her head into each room she passed. It seemed awfully empty for an active royal castle, but she’d come as soon as she got the bunny’s message—well, as soon as Julia had relayed it to her after the hungover dead sleep she’d been in.

“Hey,” she called to a man walking the opposite direction down the hall, “do you know where Margo is? She’s not in the throne room. She asked me to come.”

“Oh dear,” the man said. “You haven’t heard? She was attacked early this morning. I’ll escort you to her bedroom.”

“Attacked?” Kady’s heart lurched. There’d been no mention of any danger in the bunny’s message. Maybe she should have taken it more urgently. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” the man said. “The assassination attempt was unsuccessful and the attacker has been detained. The High King is simply recovering.” He stopped at a large, elaborate set of doors with two guards stationed outside. “Here you are, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” Kady said. She pushed the door open to find Margo asleep in bed, the rest of the room empty. Somehow, she hadn’t expected to see this. She’d expected to find Margo bitching about the situation, setting up measures to fortify the castle, figuring out a plan of action while she was undoubtedly unable to perform some of her duties, not…sleeping and vulnerable. Kady didn’t think she’d ever actually seen Margo asleep before.

She didn’t know what to do. Margo had called for her, so maybe she should wake her up, but it had taken her a while to get there. Margo probably needed what rest she could get, anyway.

She sat down on a chair left beside the bed to wait. Margo really did look more peaceful as she slept; her eyebrows had softened, her muscles relaxed, her eyes flitting gently beneath their lids. She could see now why Eliot called her Bambi.

Margo started when she finally opened her eyes and noticed Kady so close to her bed. “Jesus,” she said, “if I’d have known you wanted to give me a heart attack I wouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“Sorry,” Kady said, “I didn’t want to wake you up. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Margo pulled herself up to sit against her pillows. “You can only send so many words with messenger bunnies,” she said. “It’s not like I’m dying. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Okay?”

“Fen is insisting I need a personal guard.” Margo paused. “I know battle magic is your thing, and magic is kind of unreliable right now, but I’ve seen you fight hand-to-hand. You’re strong, you’re skilled, and I know you well enough to trust you won’t try to murder me. I know it’s a big ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Kady said.

Margo narrowed her eyes. “That was way too easy. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Kady said. “I need to get away from Earth for a while, and here I can do something I’m good at.”

“Perfect,” Margo said. “I’d say you can wait until I’m back on my feet, but Fen’s overbearing ass wants someone with me 24/7 starting yesterday. It’s gonna be pretty boring for a little while, so sorry about that.”

“I don’t really care,” Kady said. “So, what exactly happened today? How did someone manage to pull one over on you?”

“About that,” Margo said. “I won the election in a landslide, but I failed to consider the fact that most of the people who voted against me were…well, humans, who can throw knives with their hands. Sneaky bastard took me by surprise on my way to a summit and caught me twice before I could block it.”

Kady hesitated, then said, “Can I see?” She almost regretted asking—it was a strange request and she had no real reason to want to see the wound—but she was curious.

Margo gave her an odd look, but gingerly pulled her loose nightshirt up to reveal the sutured gashes along her abdomen. Kady impulsively reached out to run her fingers along the unmarked skin beside one of the wounds as she leaned closer to get a better look.

“Damn,” she said, “these look bad.”

“You should have seen them when they were hemorrhaging,” Margo said, tugging her shirt back down. “Totally ruined my dress.”

“This isn’t funny,” Kady said. “I’ve seen people die from wounds like this.”

“Relax,” Margo said, “they took care of all the bleeding before magic ran out. Why is this freaking you out so bad?”

Kady shook her head. Why did it freak her out to think that Margo could have died? It was all hypothetical; she was here, healing, and the threat was gone, and by all accounts she had nothing to worry about even if they were close, and they weren’t. They never had been, and Kady was always just fine with that.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I’m just glad you’re okay, I guess.”

Margo hummed. “Thanks, I guess. Now, it’s late, and I don’t normally share a bed with people I’m not sleeping with, but it’s big enough for both of us if you want to get some rest.”

“Is that a good idea?” Kady said, gesturing toward Margo’s wounds. She wasn’t sure she even needed sleep, but it was as good a way to pass time as any. If she’d be working as a bodyguard, she should probably get on a normal sleep schedule anyway.

Margo shrugged. “I’ve seen you passed out in the Cottage lounge enough to know you sleep like a rock. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Kady said. “If you’re sure.”

“I truly couldn’t give less of a shit,” Margo said, but Kady thought she saw a small smile when she stood up to get in on the other side of the bed.

***

Kady woke up before Margo, and the first thing she noticed was the light thrumming in the air she’d become accustomed to detecting since magic came into short supply. She slipped out of the room, asked the guards to tell Margo where she went if she woke up, and began searching the halls for someone she knew. She’d really have to learn the layout of the castle soon if she wanted to stay there.

Fen was in the great hall talking to someone Kady didn’t recognize, and when she saw Kady come in, she waved them away.

“Kady, right?” Fen said. “Margo asked you to guard her?”

“Yeah,” Kady said. “And I am. I just thought I’d let you know some of the magic is back, so your healers can finish working on her when she wakes up.”

“Oh, good,” Fen said. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll send them in shortly.”

“No problem,” Kady said. “And, Fen? Thank you for looking out for her. I’ve lost people I cared about before and I don’t want to lose another.”

“I didn’t know you were so close,” Fen said. “She needs someone like that after Eliot. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m kind of afraid…”

“What?”

“Margo is smart,” Fen said. “She’s resourceful, and she knows how to defend herself. It just…crossed my mind yesterday that she may have been so unconcerned about getting hurt because she doesn’t care anymore.”

“Because Eliot is gone.” Kady sighed. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Please just make sure she’s safe,” Fen said. “I care about her, but…there’s not a lot I can do to protect her.”

“I will,” Kady said. “I promise.”

***

“Are you sure you’re ready to try another summit?”

Kady snuck a glance in the mirror as Margo changed into one of her elaborate dresses. The scars on her stomach looked years old after the magical healing, though it had only been a month since the attack.

“I’ve been stuck within the castle grounds for way too long and if I have to stay here another minute without getting some goddamn change of scenery I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Kady raised her hands in mock surrender. “It was just a question,” she said. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Not to mention,” Margo continued, gathering a sack of scrolls she’d been studying through the week, “if the Lorians and Fairies don’t settle this little dick-measuring contest of theirs, we’ll be trapped in the middle, and that’s gonna be a huge load of shit I’ll need to clean up myself.”

“Yeah, that would suck,” Kady said.

“Can you go make sure the horses are ready?” Margo said. “The regular ones. We don’t ride the ones who can talk—not on business, anyway.”

“Riding?” Kady said. “As in, out in the open, where you got attacked last time?”

“You’re my bodyguard, not my mother,” Margo said. “Do your job and it should be fine, right?”

Kady sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Then we’re taking a different route than you did before.”

“Whatever. There are a billion of them,” Margo said. She drew one of the scrolls out of the sack and handed it to Kady. “Here’s a map. Take your pick.”

Kady unrolled the map and studied it while Margo fastened a plain black cloak over her dress. It was hard to tell which paths would be best, but she settled on one arcing in the opposite direction from the main road.

Margo’s horse, which Kady didn’t even know she had, was a dapple gray Andalusian mare with an impossibly long mane and tail. She swung up into the saddle with surprisingly practiced ease, and it struck Kady how comfortable Margo was in this world. It was no longer the fantasy world of a children’s book; it was Margo’s world, literally, and it was no wonder she came back here after her best friend died. Kady wondered how long she would have to live here before she considered it home, too.

Kady mounted the black gelding the stable hand had picked out for her and they set off at a brisk trot through the Fillorian backwoods.

“I didn’t know you even knew how to ride,” Kady said.

“I learned after I got here,” Margo said. “The castle staff said a proper queen should know how, so they taught me. It’s faster than a carriage, anyway.” She paused. “When did you learn? You don’t seem the type.”

Kady snorted. “I’m not,” she said. “I had rich kid friends upstate in middle school and they forced me into it every time I came over.”

“Sounds tragic,” Margo said. “That’s not sarcasm, by the way. Little rich kids are the worst. I would know; I was one of them.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

Kady didn’t miss the little smirk Margo gave at the comment before changing the subject.

“I like the route you picked,” Margo said. “We’ll be crossing this bridge over a section of the Burnt River. It’s got a great view; there’s nothing like it on Earth.”

“The Burnt River?” Kady said. “It doesn’t sound that great.”

“It’s a misnomer,” Margo said. “Like Iceland. It sounds ugly, but, well…you’ll see.”

Kady could hear the river long before she could see it. She thought by the volume of the rushing water it had to be right around the corner, but the sound grew louder until she could barely hear Margo’s voice, and only then did the bridge come into view.

While the river itself stretched far below the arched wooden bridge, swathes of land on the opposite cliff hung over the side, coated in vibrant green-orange mosses, water pouring down them in an unbroken glass sheet for as far as Kady could see in either direction. The bridge disappeared into a tunnel carved through the cliff face, where dim light shone from its distant exit.

Margo rode ahead of her onto the bridge and turned around. “See?” she called. “What did I tell you?”

“I mean, I don’t usually care much about the outdoors, but…yeah, this is really something.” Kady’s eyes fell from the waterfall to Margo, whose hair was beginning to collect crystalline drops of water from the spray.

“It’s too bad we can’t stop and take in all the natural beauty or whatever,” Margo said, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. “There’s always shit to do.” She waited a moment, then said, “Well, are you coming or not?”

Kady blinked and tamped down the uncomfortable fullness in her chest as she kicked her horse back into motion. She followed Margo under the waterfall and through the tunnel until they emerged into the open grasslands on the other side.

“Just about another hour before we get there,” Margo said. “By the way, I have no idea how long this meeting will last, so we might have to stay overnight at the encampment. They’ll have food and tents, so we won’t have to deal with hunting ourselves, but it’s not very comfortable. Just a heads up.”

“Will it be safe if other people are staying there?”

“I don’t see why not,” Margo said. “We’re allies. They don’t have any reason to come after me, and they’d never get away with it if they tried.” They rode in silence for a few moments, then she continued, “You know I don’t have angry mobs clamoring to kill me all the time, right? It never happened before last month. I doubt it’ll happen again anytime soon.”

Kady sighed and picked at a bit of flaking leather from her saddle horn. “Look,” she said, “I don’t know much about this place. I don’t even know you as well as I’d like to. I just know you almost died and when I found out, I felt…I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was scared.”

Margo halted her horse in front of Kady. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kady said. “What happened to being in a hurry?”

“Don’t avoid the question. Why were you scared? You’re supposed to be the fearless one.” Margo sat tall in her saddle, staring Kady down with an expression she couldn’t read. She clearly wouldn’t be moving until Kady gave in.

“You’re kidding.” Fearless—sure, it was a mask she tried to wear as often as possible, but she was far from it. She’d been living in fear for as long as she could remember. “You know what?” she said. “I do know. I thought of never seeing you again, and that scared me. I know we barely said a word to each other before I came here, but the moment I found out what happened, I just…couldn’t stand it. Our fucked up little group has been through so much together and I care about you, okay? Maybe more than I thought I did.”

Margo didn’t move; Kady could tell she hadn’t been anticipating that kind of response. Kady herself trembled slightly, gripping the reins in her hands tightly enough that her horse shifted nervously beneath her.

“Kady—”

“We should get going,” Kady said, her voice steeled and distant. She turned her horse back onto the path and kicked him into a canter before Margo could get another word out.

***

The voices of the summit leaders carried through the canvas tent walls, where Kady sat shielded from the glare of the setting sun, whittling a tree branch down to a point. She should have brought something to do; she didn’t have a watch, but the meeting must have been going for hours already. It was hard to hold out hope that they’d make it back to the castle tonight when there was so little daylight left—not that Kady was mentally prepared for the three-hour ride back. Neither of them had spoken much the remainder of the trip there, and she didn’t know how to dissipate the awkwardness.

Kady threw the branch onto a pile of other makeshift spears and ducked out of the tent. The leaders sat around a small table as they talked about delegation and resources, their people milling about the encampment doing God-knows-what. Kady strode toward the table and grabbed a random bottle off of it before returning to the tent.

“Excuse me—”

“Chill,” Margo’s quiet voice said. “It’s fine.”

Kady took a swig from the bottle and grimaced; she wasn’t sure, but she thought it was supposed to be some kind of whiskey, though the flavor was awful. Apparently, Fillorians just didn’t care enough about alcohol to make it taste good, but it would do the trick.

By the time the meeting concluded, night had fallen and the encampment was lit only by oil lamps and candles. Kady’s tent was dark; she lay in her bedroll, unable to fall asleep but unwilling to join the friendly gathering outside after a successful summit. Her head spun from the shitty alcohol, and she didn’t realize anyone had come into the tent until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Kady?” Margo said. “Are you awake?”

Kady almost responded, but she stayed still on her side, her eyes closed. She didn’t want to deal with conversation at the moment; whatever it was Margo wanted, it could wait until morning if it wasn’t urgent.

“Okay,” Margo murmured, “good. I’m sorry I forced you to talk earlier. The truth is, I don’t know how to deal with people caring about me. I thought…I thought Eliot was the only one, maybe Fen, but it’s easy to assume she only cares because I’m the king or because I was Eliot’s friend.” She sighed. “I know it’s kind of fucked up I can only admit this now, but maybe if I do it’ll be easier to say it to your face later. So thank you. For caring about me. And I care about you too.”

Margo squeezed her shoulder once, and then she was gone.

***

Kady didn’t bring up what she’d heard the previous night. She saddled her horse silently, searching her admittedly small repertoire of conversation starters for something she could use to pretend yesterday never happened. She had to scrape the bottom of the barrel as she followed Margo out of the encampment.

“So the summit went well, right?” Kady said.

Margo glanced at her out of the corner of her eye before staring ahead at the path. “If you can call six hours of negotiations that ultimately ended up with an agreement for the exact terms we had before ‘well,’ then yeah,” she said. “It’s fine, though; at least tensions are down. Shouldn’t be any problems between the other nations for a while.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Margo said. “So, um…that was fairy whiskey you took last night. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Kady said. “The fuck did they put in it?”

“They’ve got different grains in their world. Fucked me up the first time I tried it too, not that it tastes remotely okay to humans anyway.”

“Yeah,” Kady said, “I, uh…probably should have stopped sooner than I did, but. Old habits.”

“For future reference, I can’t defend you every time you take something out from under a fairy’s nose,” Margo said. “Everyone here has a temper out the ass, and that’s coming from me, so be careful.”

“Right,” Kady said. “You’re right. You have enough on your plate; you shouldn’t have to worry about me doing stupid things.”

“It’s whatever,” Margo said. “I’ve just been trapped in a fairy deal I didn’t want before, and if you piss them off they could do a lot worse than give you an impossible choice to make.”

“What deal?” Kady knew Margo had lost her eye to a fairy, but she’d been so busy on the Earth side of things for so long that she never really knew what all had been happening in Fillory.

Margo shook her head. “I got an attitude with the fairies’ ambassador and he lost his damn mind on me. The only way he’d guarantee Eliot’s safety was to agree to something just…awful. And I did it. I’m not proud of it, and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done, but it was my choice and I have to live with that.” Her voice shook almost imperceptibly and she turned away from Kady. “It didn’t even buy him that much time.”

“Well, whatever it was, I wouldn’t blame you for it,” Kady said. “I’d probably do the same thing. I know how close you were with Eliot; I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through.”

“It’s hard,” Margo said. “God, it’s so hard. I keep thinking he’ll come back somehow, because he always did before, but…I know he won’t this time.”

“I thought we’d be able to get Penny back, too. Our Penny.” Kady sighed. “Sometimes I think magic gives us too much hope.”

Margo snorted and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, you might be on to something.”

“I just can’t bring myself to hate it, though,” Kady said. “It’s the reason Penny is gone, but it’s also the reason I met him. The reason I met Julia. You. If I—”

Kady broke herself off. She searched the woods with her periphery, trying not to turn her head too much.

“If you what?”

“Shh.”

Kady caught another flash of movement to their right. She threw up a shield charm just as an arrow whipped through the trees, then followed it with a carefully aimed magic missile. She held her stance for a moment, waiting for any signs of the attacker, before dismounting her horse and creeping toward the trees. The hollow in the undergrowth where the archer had been waiting was empty, even underneath the small window of a revelation charm.

“Margo,” Kady said. “Go.”

“What? No,” Margo said, sliding out of her saddle. “No way. You’re not staying here alone.”

“Now’s not the time to argue,” Kady murmured, but she didn’t repeat herself. If Margo didn’t want to run, there was no way to make her. She held her hands ready to fire another missile and scanned the trees. “Surrender now if you want to stay alive,” she called.

Another arrow came from the other side of the path in response, and Margo conjured a shield while Kady released the magic missile. This time, she heard the crash of the body hitting tree branches under the force of the spell, but she still found no trace of them when she looked.

“This is bad,” she said. “Watch your back. I think we might be dealing with a traveler.”

Just as the words left her mouth, a man appeared directly in front of Margo, a dagger in his hand. She scarcely managed to conjure another shield before he struck, and his blow glanced off of the magical barrier. Kady felt it then, the magic in the air dwindling to nothing, and Margo’s shield fizzled out.

She’d never moved so fast in her life. She threw herself against Margo, pushing her out of the way, with only her raised arm to block herself from the dagger. She gritted her teeth as the blade carved into her skin and she gathered all of her strength to land a blow of her own to his jaw. He went down, finally, and she stood over his prone body. It wouldn’t be long before he regained consciousness, and then he wouldn’t allow himself to be so easily caught.

Kady knelt down and gripped his head in both hands, then jerked it around until she felt his neck break.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I had to,” Kady said. “When he woke up he’d travel away and then he’d just come back.”

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit about him,” Margo said. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Kady said. “It’s just my arm.” But with the threat gone, pain flooded through her arm and all along her left side, blood coating her hand and dripping into the dirt.

Margo pulled her cloak off and ripped one of the sleeves off of her dress at the seams. “Here,” she said, “hold your arm out.” Kady did, and Margo pressed the fabric against the wound. “How bad is it?” she said. “Can you tell?”

Kady shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can move my fingers, so that’s probably a good sign.”

“Okay,” Margo said, “can you ride? Maybe I should find a bunny and call for a carriage.”

“It’s fine,” Kady said again. “If that’s not the same guy who attacked you before, we need to keep moving. They’re obviously working in a group.”

She winced as she gripped her horse’s mane in her hand, the pain shooting more forcefully through her, but she pushed it aside to try to pull herself into the saddle. Her strength failed halfway up and she let her right leg fall back to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Margo said.

“I’ll just get up on the other side,” Kady said breathlessly, but she stumbled taking her foot out of the stirrup, and she suddenly felt too weak to walk. She held herself up with her arm over the horse’s back and leaned her forehead against his flank.

“Kady, seriously,” came Margo’s voice again, her voice tinged with concern. “Something’s not right.”

No, Kady thought, it’s not. She felt warmth under her nose, and when she wiped it, her hand came away red.

An arm wrapped around Kady’s waist as Margo took on some of her weight and led her away from the horse.

“Come on,” she said, “you can ride with me. Whitespire’s far enough away there should be magic there and we’ll find out what’s wrong. We just have to get there.”

Margo unbuckled the saddle from her horse and dropped it to the ground before boosting Kady up and climbing on in front of her.

“You can hold on to me, right?”

“Yeah,” Kady said, and wrapped her arms around Margo’s waist. She couldn’t get a grip with her wounded arm, but Margo held the reins in one hand and held Kady’s arms against her with the other as she urged the horse forward.

They fell into a gallop within minutes, and each beat of the horse’s hooves jostled more air out of Kady’s body. Her chest felt thick and heavy, as if she were breathing water, and her head swam with the feeling. Maybe she was drowning, but she could still feel Margo in her arms, so she couldn’t be.

“Kady, are you still okay back there?”

Margo’s voice sounded distant, and Kady wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t gather enough breath for it.

“Kady?”

I’m here, Kady thought.

She leaned against Margo’s back, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

***

Kady woke with a new kind of weight on her chest. She felt okay, really. Her arm stung, but it didn’t radiate through her like before. Her head was clear, if achy. She could breathe. The only thing out of the ordinary was the light pressure above her heart.

Her eyes blurred when she opened them and the room gradually came into focus as she blinked the uncomfortable dryness away. Margo’s room. She recognized the latticed windows and cross-vaulted ceiling, and the scent of Margo’s perfume was almost overpowering.

Margo herself lay curled up into Kady’s side, her head resting on her chest and her arm slung over her stomach. Kady supposed she was asleep. She didn’t know why she did it, but she lifted her hand to run her fingers through Margo’s hair, gently combing and stroking it until Margo shifted under her touch.

Kady had only seen Margo look like this once before: her eyes puffy and red, dried tears on her cheeks. It looked like she’d tried to take her makeup off, but remnants of wet mascara shadowed her eyelids.

“Kady,” Margo breathed. “Thank God.” She gathered Kady into her arms and hugged her as best she could lying down. “Thank God.”

Kady hugged Margo back, and she could feel the smaller girl trembling in her embrace. “What happened?”

Margo sat up and wiped fresh tears out of her eyes. “The blade was poisoned,” she said. “You…you weren’t breathing when we got here. The healers removed the poison but they weren’t sure you would wake up.”

Kady sighed and rubbed her temple. “Poison,” she said. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I should have run,” Margo said. “I should have gone when you told me to. This wouldn’t have happened.”

“No,” Kady said, “I’m glad you didn’t. He would have traveled after you and I wouldn’t have been able to block you when the magic failed.”

“You died!” Margo’s lip quivered. “You died, Kady. I was terrified. I’d rather—”

“Hey…” Kady took Margo’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “It’s okay. This is what I signed on for when I agreed to be your guard.”

Margo sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said. “Listen, I’m not good with the whole…you know…feelings thing, but…” She scoffed and shook her head. “God, this is so stupid.”

“I know,” Kady said. “I’m not good at it either. But, you know…” She took a deep breath. “If this is about last night—the things you said to me last night—I was awake. You don’t have to say it again.”

Margo gave a short laugh. “You think I didn’t know you were awake?”

Kady blinked. “What? But you said—”

“I hoped you were asleep, but I figured you probably weren’t,” Margo said. “Nobody sleeps very well after drinking fairy whiskey. It was just easier to say those things when I knew you wouldn’t say anything back.” She looked down and toyed with a loose thread in the comforter. “No, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. There’s something else I didn’t mention last night.”

“What is it?” Kady asked. She hated the ‘butterflies’ expression, but all she could think was that they were in her chest, and they desperately wanted out.

“I love you.”

Kady froze. She’d never expected those words to come out of Margo’s mouth, not directed toward her. Her first instinct was to deflect—after all, that was all she ever did whenever somebody got close—but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to push this away.

Instead, she sat up and cupped Margo’s cheek in her hand, wiped her tears with her thumb, and kissed her. Margo hesitated for a moment, and then Kady felt her kiss back, pulling her closer with one hand on her neck and one in her hair until their bodies pressed together so firmly that Kady could feel Margo’s heart beat against her chest. Margo bowed her head when they broke apart, and Kady pressed her lips to her forehead.

“So are you really gonna make me say it and not say it back?” Margo said.

Kady laughed and leaned back to look Margo in the eye. A month. She could never have said it to someone after a month before, but maybe she was getting better. Maybe it was something about Margo that made her feel sure enough of herself not to hide.

“I love you, too.”

#the magicians #the magicians fic #margo hanson #kady orloff diaz #battleking #my writing

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thatonekawaiigirl13 · 6 years

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Who Said Death Was Easy? [Death Note] Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty: Frustration

Day 8 of Surveillance

Keiko’s POV:

Keiko gave an exasperated sigh as she recalled her little conversation the other night with the world’s greatest detective. She thought a more appropriate name for him would be the world’s most frustrating detective. After all, he always managed to somehow get under her skin. Even worse, his haunting words from the other night had yet to leave her mind. Actually, no matter what, she couldn’t get them out. It was as though his words were stuck on an almost endless loop inside her head.

“If you have no intention of leaving, then face the truth; Light Yagami is Kira, and he’s been stringing you along all this time.”

Was there really any truth to L’s words? Unfortunately, Keiko had to say yes. It appeared that she could no longer ignore the glaringly obvious fact that Light Yagami was probably, no...it appeared that that he was more than most likely Kira, the worst mass murderer that the world had ever seen.

Keiko had been thinking about the detective’s words all night. Now that Light was so close to being convicted of Kira, it made her sick to her stomach thinking of how easily manipulated by him she had been. She had fallen right into his dangerous trap countless times. He had reeled her in, played her a fool.

I am a fool...aren’t I? If my ex-boyfriend really is Kira, then I can’t deny that. I trusted him. I played right into his hands. He got me right where he wanted me…not only did he toy with my emotions, he controlled them.

Keiko shivered, despite the fact that she was wearing a rather warm wool sweater.

No...I let him control me.

Look back at her history with him, Keiko deduced that things with Light Yagami officially started after she had ran into him at the convenience store on that fateful night. That was the start of their friendship, the start of their soon to be romantic relationship. Before then, they had only been rank one and rank two in school, classmates that weren’t particularly close but were still civil to one another.

The fact that the man on the motorcycle, who had been leering and chasing a woman only moments before, had died was now way too suspicious for her to overlook. It was especially suspicious when considering right after that night heart attack victims became more and more common. Keiko hadn’t really thought much about the night at the convenience store, mostly because she just wanted to block it out. It wasn’t like she wanted to remember watching a man die, at least with the bus jacking incident she had looked away when it happened. Keiko shifted slightly on the bed she was sitting on, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively as she thought back on the night she had run into him.

And, to think, Light had the audacity to walk me home that night!

Looking back also made her realize that she had once used Light Yagami as well. Keiko shuddered. She was thinking that,because she had kissed him that day to get simple revenge on her ex-boyfriend, she had also invited him to use her in return.

If I had never kissed Light Yagami that day, I probably wouldn’t even be in this mess right now...although, now that I think about it, out of all the girls in our class, I was probably the one closest to his type. After all, he and I were the top two students in the grade...meaning that he probably would have asked me out anyway, so perhaps there really was no way to avoid this fate. Well, even if I could have avoided it…it’s useless now. What’s done is done, unfortunately…

Light Yagami had shamelessly used her, not once, not twice, but multiple times. He had used her for months. There was no going back now.

Keiko thought about her first attempt at a date with Light Yagami, and the bus jacking that had gone along with it.

The bus jacking was no mere accident...he had used that bus jacking in order to retrieve that innocent FBI agent’s name. He had then tortured him to somehow get everyone else’s name and face, only to dispose of them all in the end…twelve innocent lives were lost thanks to him. Twelve, and there could have been more that I don’t even know about. After all, L didn’t recruit me for the investigation right away. He waited a while first.

Keiko let out a soft sigh, her mind was now running through all of the other times she had been with Light Yagami. There had been quite a few study dates to make up for their lack of an official first date. Those study dates had easily turned into kissing sessions that had left her slowly wanting even more of him. However, thinking back on that now only made Keiko feel dirty, both physically and emotionally.

After all, those study sessions had paved the way for Light to ask her to officially be his girlfriend. Or, rather, to officially be his puppet, and his asking her out had subsequently led Keiko to fall for him.

And I can’t believe that he used me as a cover up that whole time...how cruel. Once I fell for him, there was no going back. I was lost, no matter how many times L tried to warn me. I didn’t listen....what a fool. Had any of it been real? Did Light really feel anything for me? I suppose it’s possible, but if he’s Kira, then I highly doubt it. As L said, he had to have been just stringing me along. There’s no way that his love for me was real. In fact, now that I think about it, the two of us never said those three little words, ‘I love you’ to one another...

Her stomach, which already had been in knots for a while, gave a sudden lurch. She was seriously worried for a moment that she would actually vomit. Keiko covered her mouth, drawing in a deep and slow breath to help her recover.

It was then that another thought struck her. A thought that she had tucked away in the depths of her brain for a while. At the time, she had deemed it unimportant. In fact, it probably was unimportant, but still, she had to be certain. Keiko didn’t want to be fooled any longer, and she wanted to investigate everything having to do with Light Yagami.

She reached into the pockets of her sweatpants, digging around for her cell phone. Aside from his dad, no one from the Yagami family knew that Keiko and Light had broken up. Light’s father had told Keiko it was because Light didn’t want to raise any more questions, because to him, being interrogated by L and the rest of the Task Force was enough.

Keiko figured that, since his family thought that the two of them were still together, it wouldn’t be weird for her to text his little sister. However, she knew she had to be crafty in order to get the details she wanted out of Sayu Yagami. Luckily it didn’t take Keiko long to think of a plan.

To: Sayu-chan:3

From: Keiko Kagami

Hi, Sayu-chan! It’s Keiko. I was wondering...do you remember the name of the girl that Light-kun was tutoring a while ago? He and I need to fill out applications in order to take a certain class in our study abroad program, and on the application we have to include the names of all people we tutored. But…Light doesn’t remember her name and his phone is dead, so he can’t text you himself.

Okay, Keiko had to admit that her plan perhaps wasn’t the greatest, but it was the best that she could come up with on such short notice. The fact that Light Yagami had a girl come over so soon after the two had met Misa Amane was now suspicious to Keiko. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it, but looking back, Keiko had a strong suspicion that the girl had been Misa. If Light was Kira, then that would for sure meant that Misa Amane was the Second Kira, and Light hadn’t been tutoring her, but been conspiring with her in secret.

Keiko’s leg bounced in anticipation. Considering the fact that Sayu Yagami was glued to her phone, she figured it wouldn’t take long for her to respond, but at the moment, every moment felt like hours.

Finally, after a long two minutes passed, Keiko received her response. A response that made her heart skip a beat and her blood run cold.

To: Keiko Kagami

From: Sayu-chan:3

Oh, hi, Keiko-chan! It’s been boring here without you and Light around! I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss you both! (don’t tell my brother I said that though, I’d never live that down!) Anyway, that girl looked like she stepped out of an old horror movie, so of course I remember her name! Her name was Misa Amane. Is there anything else you have to ask me for Light’s application? I hope he gets into that class, he deserves it!

The phone trembled in Keiko’s hands, and she fought hard to catch her breath. She felt like the wind had just been knocked out of her. Her fingers struggled to type up a proper response to Sayu’s question.

To: Sayu-chan:3

From: Keiko Kagami

No, Sayu-chan, all Light needed to know for the application was her name, so there are no further questions…thank you, you were a big help.

Keiko’s phone beeped yet again a moment later, signaling that Sayu had responded, but she didn’t bother to open it up. She didn’t even think she had the strength to open up the text message. In fact, what little strength she had left had dwindled away as soon as she read Sayu’s text message. The name Sayu had given her, Misa Amane, had more than confirmed her suspicions. She set her cell phone back into her pocket.

This could seriously mean that Light Yagami is Kira...and that Misa Amane is his Second Kira....if that’s true, then the two of them are the worst mass murderers that the world’s ever seen…and I was blind to that fact the whole entire time…

Unfortunately, her little discovery had caused her to lose her composure for good. Keiko was soon unable to stop the sobs from wracking her body.

If it’s true then I can’t believe I fell for it...L was right, I really am naive.

She was glad that she was hiding out in the spare bedroom of L’s hotel suite, as she was sure that she looked like an absolute wreck. There were tears streaming down her face and circles starting to develop under her eyes due to increased lack of sleep.

Not only that, but she had also started to pay less attention to her clothing choices since moving into the hotel, opting for comfort rather than fashion. She figured her current clothing choice, an oversized wool sweater paired with sweatpants, probably only made her look like worse.

“Keiko-chan!”

The sound of Matsuda’s voice made Keiko freeze. There was no way she wanted him to see her like this. Hell, she didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She hated people seeing her cry. The fact that Matsuda had seen her cry when she was at her father’s grave unnerved her...and here he was about to witness her crying yet again!

Keiko sighed, quickly attempting to pat her wet face dry. She knew it was in vain, because one look at her puffy eyes would lead Matsuda to conclude that she had been crying, but she had to do something in order to try and regain her dignity.

She could hear Matsuda’s footsteps getting louder and louder, and soon, she knew that he had entered the spare room.

“K-Keiko-chan,” she heard Matsuda quietly whisper. “You’re thinking about Light-kun, aren’t you?”

Keiko meekly lifted her head up to face the young dark haired policeman at the mention of Light’s name. She could see the worry written in his eyes as he stepped forward and slowly sat down on the bed next to her. His concerned gaze made her feel even more vulnerable.

She didn’t have the strength to speak, so she just nodded her head, and attempted to keep up her cool composure.

It didn’t last very long. Matsuda mentioning Light’s name out loud had only made her feel even more upset, and she was unable to stop a lone tear from escaping her eye. Unfortunately for her, that tear had caused the formation of even more tears, and soon, she was full on crying once again.

Keiko closed her eyes, thinking that it would somehow stop the tears from flowing down her face. Her heart was hammering away in her chest.

Damn it! I keep letting myself get so emotional.

Her eyes snapped open as soon as she felt Matsuda wrap his arms around her back, bringing her up to his chest so that he could envelop her in an awkward hug.

What the…? Oh...he’s probably trying to comfort me...

Normally, she would have brushed her tears back, she would have gently pushed away from his touch. However, this time Keiko didn’t have the will to somehow force a smile onto her face. She didn’t even have the strength to move or be prideful and attempt to save face. It was far too late for any of that.

Seeing no reason to fight her emotions, she let herself relax in Matsuda’s arms, softly continuing to cry as he awkwardly patted her back in an effort to calm her down. She knew that Matsuda wasn’t a threat to her, the young policeman had quickly become a friendly face on the task force. While he sometimes wasn’t the brightest, he was dependable. He was a friend that she knew she could trust.

Keiko wasn’t sure how much time had passed. After all, she felt like once her tears started, they would never stop flowing. However, unbeknownst to them, their little show had an audience.

L’s POV:

Hmm...what’s taking him so long? While he’s not the brightest, it’s not like Matsuda-san to dawdle on a task like this...whenever I ask him to do me a favor, he usually tries to impress me by getting it done rather quickly...it really shouldn’t be taking him this long to go and wake up Keiko though.

L let out a deep sigh, deciding that he had, once again, had enough of waiting for Matsuda to do his job. He stood up from his chair, walking through the living room towards the spare bedroom, which was where Keiko had ventured off to a couple hours ago to go take a ‘quick’ nap.

If Matsuda’s going to just take his sweet time, I might as well go and get Keiko myself. After all, Light’s been in confinement for over a week now...and I’d really like to know what she’s thinking now about the situation. She spent all of this time thinking that her boyfriend couldn’t be Kira, no, even after they broke up, she still refused to believe it. But now, I’m getting all the proof I need to convict him.

The detective stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he heard light sobs emitting from the direction of the spare bedroom.

Well, I suppose I now have my answer...I have to admit, I’m not that surprised. It was only a matter of time before her emotions got to her.

The sobs, though slightly muffled, got a little louder as he took a couple steps forward. He peered into the room from the doorway. He saw Keiko sitting on the bed. She was huddled towards Matsuda, who was gently patting her back.

So that’s what he’s been up to.

L had been feeling fine before, but all of the sudden, his heart gave a slight pang. If he hadn’t locked Light and Misa up eight days ago, he would have sworn that it was either Kira or the Second Kira finally attempting to kill him.

If this isn’t a heart attack then what is this?

The detective brought his thumb up to his mouth, staring at the two sitting on the bed. He knew there was another possible explanation for the way he was now feeling, but he refused to accept it.

I don’t allow myself to feel such things, as they just get in the way...so it can’t be...there’s just no way…is there?

Day 9 of Surveillance

Light’s POV:

“I-I just can’t take it anymore!” Ryuk pitifully groaned, “I’m serious, you know! I’m really about to reach my limit over here! I swear...if...if I don’t get an apple soon...there’s no telling what’ll happen to me!”

Light couldn’t see him from where he was sitting on his bed, but he was sure that the shinigami was contorting his body into all sorts of weird shapes once again.

He raised an eyebrow, a determined look on his face, and ignored the shinigami’s dramatic behavior. It had now been nine days since the start of his confinement. He was sure that L would attempt to interrogate him once more. After all, he was only giving him more proof of his guilt.

Well, not for too much longer, L...soon you’ll see that I’m innocent. Once that happens, you’ll have no choice but to release me.

“Light-kun,” L’s voice came in over the loudspeaker in the corner, interrupting him from his thoughts, “you’ve only been in there for a little over a week, but I’m sure it can’t be easy for you...are you feeling alright?”

The corner’s of Light’s mouth slightly curved upwards into a smirk. He was glad that L currently was unable to see his face because of the angle he was sitting at.

I’m feeling great, L, heh… and hmm...now that I think about it, I’ve come pretty far...it’s probably about time to put part two of my plan into action!

“Yeah, I’m sure I probably don’t look so good...but it’s this useless pride of mine that’s keeping me in here…” Light started, finally looking up in the direction of the camera, “...I suppose I’ll have to just try to…get rid of it!”

“H-huh?” Ryuk questioned, taking a moment to fully process Light’s words. He peered over at the light brown haired human sitting on the bed, “o-oh, yeah. I gotcha, hyuk. Well, looks like I’ll be able to get some more apples soon. That being said, I’ll see you for now, Light Yagami. It’s been fun…”

With that, Ryuk waved his hand in the air over Light’s head, watching as Light closed his eyes, probably waiting for the memories of the death note to fade. Once the shinigami was finished, he flapped his wings, and disappeared from the cell.

Light opened his eyes once more, looking around his cell and blinking slowly. For some reason, he felt a little disoriented. He gave a little sigh of frustration, figuring that it was probably because he was starting to feel the effects of being locked up for so long.

Dammit, why am I even doing this?! It’s pointless, I don’t belong in here; I’m not Kira, I know that! We’re only wasting precious investigation time!

“Ryuzaki-san,” Light started, staring up at the camera once more. His voice was pleading, “I realize that I was the one pushing for confinement in the first place, and I even asked you to put me in here...but I just realized something important! This whole thing is completely pointless because I’m not Kira! You have to get me out of here!”

L’s POV:

L could hear the gasps from the members of the task force behind him, notably Mogi and Matsuda. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Keiko shifting slightly in her chair, she clearly was looking rather uncomfortable with the current situation. He figured she was probably trying to get a grip on her emotions.

The detective, however, didn’t let their reactions distract him. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the suspect sitting in the cell on the monitor in front of him.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Light-kun,” L responded, “if you recall, I promised you that, no matter what you did or said, I wouldn’t let you out until I was personally convinced that you are not Kira.”

“Please, Ryuzaki-san!” Light responded, desperation in his voice, “I wasn��t thinking clearly! Besides, do you honestly think that a serial killer like Kira could commit those crimes without being aware of them?! If I have no memory of killing anyone then it should be pretty clear that I’m not him!”

L let out a soft sigh, “while I’ve never been able to accept this idea that Kira has been killing without self awareness all this time, that doesn’t change the fact that all of the evidence points to you as being Kira...and, since we imprisoned you, Kira hasn’t committed a single murder.”

“Listen, just hear me out...I swear to you that I’m not lying!” Light’s eyes got huge as he looked into the camera, “do these eyes look guilty to you?! You have to believe me; I’m not Kira! I...I must have been framed...that’s the only explanation for this!”

L carefully studied Light’s brown eyes, looking for anything suspicious.

What’s wrong with you, Light Yagami? What you’re saying is completely absurd...but, for some reason, it feels real to me...it feels genuine.

“Hurry up, Ryuzaki-san!” Light continued on, “you have to let me out of here! We’re wasting precious time!”

“What the…” the detective heard Keiko mutter beside him. He glanced at her, watching as her face scrunched up a little, “oh Light-kun…”

“This isn’t like Light at all!” Aizawa grumbled, “this doesn’t make any sense to me, he’s contradicting himself...not only that, he’s getting emotional.”

“I’m sure anyone would be emotional in that condition,” Matsuda responded, “but we can’t release him now, not with the murders suddenly stopping...at this point, it doesn’t matter what he says, even I understand that much.”

Aizawa chuckled darkly, “yeah...I don’t care what anyone else says, as far as I’m concerned, we have all the proof we need to convict him...Light Yagami is Kira, that’s the end of it.”

“Hmm,” L rested his thumb by his mouth, “at this rate, Aizawa-san is right...if things continue on like this, that’s the only conclusion that we can come to...but I suppose that it’s still a little too early to tell for sure...we’ll have to just continue watching him for the time being.”

/timeskip/

Keiko’s POV:

Keiko ran her fingers through her hair and let out a soft sigh, staring at the monitors in front of her. All the other members of the task force had called it a night and left, leaving Keiko and L alone in the hotel room.

It appeared that Light had calmed down from his outburst earlier, as he had actually fallen asleep on the bed. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, thinking over his sudden pleading from earlier on that day.

“Listen, just hear me out...I swear to you that I’m not lying! Do these eyes look guilty to you?! You have to believe me; I’m not Kira! I...I must have been framed...that’s the only explanation for this!”

Given the evidence against him, Light’s words make no sense...however, he seemed genuine...and for a moment, it was like I had a glimpse of my ex-boyfriend. Of course, I obviously don’t want to believe that he was only fooling me again, but…something about it seemed…so real.

Keiko’s heart gave a lurch in her chest.

He really did look innocent...did I make a mistake in choosing to no longer trust him? Perhaps I gave up my faith in him too quickly...

“Keiko-chan.”

She looked up, watching as the detective scooted his chair closer to hers, closing the gap between the two of them.

“Y-yes?” Keiko responded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. She had been hoping that L would leave her alone for the night, but after seeing him stare her down, she figured that wouldn’t be the case.

He’s going to rile me up again somehow, isn’t he…?

Her suspicions were confirmed as soon as L opened his mouth to speak once more. His dark eyes were piercing hers, “I know what you’re thinking...but you shouldn’t let his little act fool you…”

“Can you really be sure that’s it’s just an act?” Keiko retorted, crossing her arms at him. She honestly wasn’t sure herself but she didn’t like the way L was making her feel. He had a way of exposing her true emotions, of making her feel vulnerable, “I mean, you saw the look in his eyes…do you really know for sure he’s guilty? It could be as he says.”

The corners of the detective’s mouth lifted slightly, and she felt as though he were taunting her somehow. She supposed he was, it was what he seemed to do best.

“Hmm. Right now, I can’t be too sure but the evidence against him is rather compelling...however…that's not my point, I’m more concerned about you at the moment,” L leaned forward in his chair so that he was face to face with her. He was close, so close that Keiko could feel his warm break on her cheek as he spoke, “are you really sure that you want to trust Light Yagami again? After all, whether he meant to or not, he already broke your heart once before…do you really want to make that twice?”

“R-Ryuzaki-san,” Keiko stuttered out, unable to properly speak. All she could focus on was L’s close proximity to her. His face was getting ever so close to her own, and they were now only mere inches apart from one another. Keiko could feel her heart pounding like crazy in her chest, she felt like she was about to lose control, and she knew she had to get away from him. And quickly, otherwise there was no telling what she’d do. There was no way that Keiko could allow herself to get lost in the detective’s eyes.

She attempted to turn her head to look away from him, but he gently placed his hand on her chin to stop her.

“I guess what I’m getting at, Keiko-chan, is...will you let your feelings for Light-kun get in the way of things again? Or will you finally be strong enough to get over him?”

Before Keiko could reply, or even register what was going on, she felt L’s lips brush over her cheek, teasing her skin ever so slightly. He was gentle, maybe even a little hesitant. Meanwhile, Keiko’s heart now felt like it was about to leap out her chest at his touch, and her brain was going haywire.

The detective’s lips went even lower, tickling her skin as they slowly neared her own lips. The closer he got, the more her body trembled, causing all thoughts of her ex-boyfriend to leave her mind. All she could think about was the fact that L’s lips were dangerously close to meeting her own, but somehow the prospect of a kiss didn’t quite alarm her.

In fact, she had to admit, in that moment, a part of her was almost curious as to how it would feel to kiss the world’s greatest detective. It would have been a nice distraction from reality, and she would be lying to herself if she said that L wasn’t in any way attractive. He was vastly different from Light, yes. L was odd, blunt to a fault, and had a thing for sweets.

However, there was just something about him that drew her in. A part of her wanted a taste, just to see what it would be like. Besides, it wasn't like a kiss would hurt her. She was already heartbroken from Light.

Keiko finally gave in, letting him take control. Her eyes fluttered closed, waiting in anticipation.

“H-hello?” the sudden voice from the doorway of the hotel room caused Keiko’s eyes to snap open. She pushed the detective away from her, and she could feel her face flaming as Matsuda stepped into the hotel room.

“I forgot my…” the words died on the young police man’s lips. Keiko could only imagine how she and L looked to him. Her face was a deep shade of crimson and, because of the sudden intrusion, the detective’s eyes went wide. Although Matsuda had no way of knowing what had been going on, she was still sure that he was sure that he could feel the tension hidden between the two of them.

“I-I forgot my w-watch,” Matsuda finally stammered out after a long moment, reaching out to grab the item from the coffee table. He watched, probably uncomfortable, as both L and Keiko stared at him, “b-but Ryuzaki-san, Kagami-san, what’s going on, did something big happen? Perhaps...did Kira kill again?!”

Keiko awkwardly shook her head as L spoke up beside her, “no. No new criminals have been killed yet...and if you’re sure you have everything, you’re free to go…”

“Oh, alright then,” Matsuda replied, looking as confused as ever. He stood there a moment, glancing between the two of them. It was clear that he was trying to figure out what else, if anything, he could have missed.

“I-I’m, uh, going to go to bed,” Keiko stuttered out. She normally would have stayed with L deep into the night to investigate, but at the moment she was too embarrassed to stay at task force headquarters. The only thing she could focus on was the fact that the great detective had almost kissed her, and she would have let him.

W-what’s wrong with me? There's no way I could like him, after all, I barely know anything about him! So why did I let him get so close to me then? It was almost like I was in a trance. It was almost like...I wanted it to happen...

“Sleeping so soon? What a pity,” L responded.

Keiko didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his voice. She could feel her face flaming again as she stood up from her chair, heading towards the door that led to her hotel room suite. As she walked, she couldn’t be bothered to force herself to look at either of the guys in the room. Keiko needed to get to her room, and quickly. Not only that, she needed to try and figure out what exactly had just happened between the two of them.

Wait a moment...even if Matsuda hadn’t walked in, would he have really kissed me? Or was that all just an act? With him, there’s no way of knowing for sure...perhaps he just wanted to see how I’d react? ...but it’s not like him to get that close to me, not that close at least! This is all too confusing!

“Have a good night, Keiko-chan!” Matsuda cheerfully called out as she opened the door.

All she could muster back was a short wave in his direction before she closed the door behind her.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty-one

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alchemistc · 7 years

Text

and i don’t know where i’m going but i’m on my way

an: title stolen from the song of the same name, a top forty hit in 1917 because fuck am i predictable.

summary: a steve trevor is alive in the 21st century fic. why? because i want him to be. how? no one cares, he just is.

There are few things in this world that she takes true delight in, anymore. The laugh of a child, the blush of first love between a young couple, the first fall of snow every year - these things make her smile, remind her of a past she takes care not to reminisce on too often, but they do not delight her.

This. This is a delight.

He picks his way through the room, fingers drumming against every surface he encounters, eyes taking everything in, and she’d always noticed this about him, his attention to detail, his easy acceptance of every outlandish thing before him, the way he paid notice of how things worked. She’d taken him here because she needed proof that she was not being deceived, but instead she finds herself watching the fall of his hair over one eye, the impatient way he brushes it aside only for it to fall straight back into place, like it belongs there; the way he takes a startled step back when the screens blink to life before him, and the way, moments later, his gaze darts to the touchpads on the desk, the quizzical furrow of his brow as he tries to puzzle out how it all works.

“You wanna explain to me why there’s a dead man wandering the Bat Cave?”

Diana turns her head to catch sight of Bruce out of the corner of her eye, watches him as he carefully moves too stand beside her. The corner of her mouth slides up and she shakes her head back and forth, once, twice, before returning her eyes to the bank of screens and the man standing before them.

“Diana.”

She nods, then, and turns her gaze to meet Bruce’s. “He’s real, then.”

“Heartbeats there, brain activity is normal. Nothing to suggest he’s a metahuman or... created. And still no explanation from you.”

“No,” she reiterates, following his gaze across the room, and she raises an arm to stop Bruce as he moves toward Steven Trevor, who has moved on from the bank of monitors to a glass case filled with artifacts.

The truth is, even if she could explain to Bruce how she’d come to find the long dead Steve Trevor alive and well, she isn’t sure she would. He’s always been a suspicious man by nature, always the first to question how a good thing could possibly be, and though she’d come to him specifically for that skillset, she has no desire to think too hard on why.

Bruce sighs beside her, turns to look at her fully, and she knows without having to look that he is about to lecture her, something so incredibly typical about his behavior that it makes her want to scream, to pull out her lasso and ask him every unbearably uncomfortable question she can think of just so he will understand that they all have secrets they wish to hold to their hearts.

She is pleased when a hiss of noise interrupts his words, and they both turn to stare at Steve, standing before, of all things, a coffee maker that is spewing hot water all over the heating tray, no pot in sight.

Steve turns to look at her, eyes wide and impossibly blue, and he gestures vaguely at it, gaze darting to Bruce for a hint of a moment. “I didn’t touch it!”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling too wide, but he catches it anyway, tilting his head as he purses his own lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Princess of Themyscira.”

Bruce’s footsteps echo beside her as she moves to meet Steve near the sideboard, where the coffee maker is set up beside a small refrigerator she knows is stocked with nothing but the horrible energy drinks Bartholomew likes to keep here, and she wastes no time pressing a few buttons to stop the flow of water. The coffee pot itself is lying in the sink, an inch of almost black liquid sitting muddy in the bottom of it, likely left purposely by Mr. Curry, an act of petty spite against the ever tidy Bruce.

She grins at him while he stares her down, his fingers tapping out the same pattern in the air she’d just used to shut off the machine, and she remembers this, the way he noticed things, the way he remembered them, the way he tucked them away for future reference. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asks, darting his gaze around the room, like he means to remind her of all the things he doesn’t quite understand just yet. He will, though. She’s had a hundred years to learn the world of men, she’s lived through every technological advance, and none of this is foreign to her any longer, but Steve has always been a quick study.

She bites her lip again, eyes wide and innocent - an act, a thing she learned first from him, and he rolls his eyes, not believing it for a second. She drops the act, and tilts her head. “Yes. It amuses me to see you acting as the fish out of water for once.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners - he’d told her, a few days before, how strange it was to hear her use idioms as she did, how different she’d become in the century that had passed between them. It had hurt, at first, to hear him say so, to think that her time in the world of men had made her unrecognizable, and he’d been quick to assure her she was still very much Diana. It had been one hundred years, and no one else had ever said her name like he did.

“Don’t get used to it. I’m good at adapting.”

His fingers drift across the counter top, closer to hers, and she crosses the distance between their hands, curling her fingers loosely around his. Her smile remains as they gaze at each other, words and sentiments crossing between the empty air between them. She is...happy, so tremendously happy, with him here, and though it makes no sense, though his presence has no explanation, though she knows she should be cautious, she cannot find it in her to question his being here.

She’d lost something, when Steve died, something she cannot explain, even to this day, and to have it returned to her now is disconcerting, and confusing, and brilliant and wonderful. She knows she will hold on to it desperately, will fight for it to the point of idiocy.

A cough breaks the silence, and they turn as one to look at Bruce. There is something in the mans gaze that makes Diana ache, for a moment, something understanding and painfully aware. Beside her, Steve squeezes her hand and lets go, raising both hands to gesture at Bruce. “So you’re the Bat Guy.”

The snort escapes her lips before she can manage to school her features, and as Bruce’s brow furrows in consternation she giggles, bright and carefree and so terribly enamored with Steve Trevor. Steve, for his own part, does not seem to grasp his misstep, but he is also so unperturbed by it that Bruce just sighs. She wonders if Steve had felt like this, guiding her through his world, amused too his very bones by the things she didn’t quite understand.

No. No, he hadn’t, had he - he’d taken her in stride, explained things to her with a warm voice and a soft look, without the bite of judgement so many people in this world would have shown her. Did show her, later on, when Steve was gone and the world was recovering and Diana, as a woman, was little more than an inconvenience.

(That wasn’t quite fair. Etta had loved her, had taken her under her wing, had dragged her to women’s marches and taught her so much about the capacity of humans for kindness and loyalty and fairness. Sammy had laughed with her, and not at her, and he had been a shining star of friendship and bravery. Charlie had introduced her to the people of his village, had taught her of endurance and courage in the face of the nightmares war wrought, had taught her how to play the piano and laugh in the face of insurmountable odds. And Chief had shown her wisdom and strength, had garnered her respect, had looked upon her not as a weapon or a warrior but as a woman who understood the horror of what men could do to each other but loved humanity despite it. There had been others, too, through the years, people she had tucked away into the corner of her heart and mind where Steve’s watch ticked, and Antiope’s voice rang loud and clear, and the press of her mothers lips bit into her forehead.)

Bruce’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “That’s me. Bat Guy.” Steve doesn’t miss the ironic lilt of Bruce’s voice, and she catches his gaze, nods subtly in a promise to explain later to him why his words had been so amusing. “You should know, this place isn’t exactly public knowledge. We’d like to keep it that way.”

There’s nothing particularly threatening about the words as Bruce says them, but there’s a tense set to his shoulders that belies the ease of the statement, and puts Steve on the defensive. “Well damn, and I was just about to tweet about it, too.”

Bruce cocks an eyebrow, surprised by the words, surprised, no doubt, by the fact that Steve not only knows about such a modern form of communication but can actually speak to it correctly.

“Buddy, I was a spy, I’m not gonna tell the world about your super secret lair.”

“Was?”

Bruce is all bravado, as are most of the rest of the League, and Diana has always felt a bit ill at ease about it, and now she remembers why, as Steve rolls his eyes and reaches for the lasso tucked at her hip, wraps it carefully around his wrist.

“I’m not spying on you, I don’t know how I’m here - don’t really care how, actually, and I got nothin’ to prove to you.” He doesn’t loosen the rope right away, and though he’s not been compelled to say anything else, his mouth opens again like he’s been asked a thousand questions. “This is crazy, you all are crazy, and I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish but if Diana thinks you’re worth her time you gotta have something going for you. And speaking of Diana, I always thought her armor was out there, but you fight crime dressed up as a bat, pal, that’s weird.”

He shakes his head, and Diana unravels the lasso from around his wrist as her laughter, bright and high and clear, echoes through the room.

------

Lois smiles at Steve as she greets them both in the coffee shop, and her eyes linger on their intertwined hands, on the way Diana stares at his retreating back as he offers to get their drinks, on the way Steve smiles at her across the table. Diana wishes there was more she could do to ease the pain behind her friends eyes, wishes she knew how to explain Steve’s presence here, wishes she could say without a shadow of a doubt “We can do the same for Clark.”

But it has been a week now, and Diana is no closer to understanding how Steve came to be here, or why it is now, a century later - she does not have an answer for any of it, and when she opens her mouth to speak of it, while Steve is eyeing the artwork on the walls halfway across the room, Lois reaches forward and grasps her hand.

“I’m happy for you, Diana,” Lois says, and her voice is shaky, her eyes watery, but Diana understands. She nods, and swallows back the words half formed in her mind, and squeezes back, and when Steve returns to the table he doesn’t mention the way the women clear their throats and glance away from each other.

The words sit heavy in her mind, later, as Steve flips through the photo albums that have lived tucked away in the bottom of a hope chest for decades. The chest itself was all the painful reminder she ever needed, a gift from Etta in the last few months of her life, it’s secrets revealed in a whisper as Diana sat at the edge of her bed - Steve had given it to her, ordered her to take it when she’d tried to refuse, an heirloom passed through the generations of Steve’s family, meant to be given as a wedding gift, and when his mother had died and left Steve as the last member of the Trevor clan, he’d taken one look at it and known it would never be his.

Now he sits beside it, and smiles at pictures of friends long dead, his fingers smoothing along the glossy wood while Diana tells stories of the photographs, of their old friends, of the lives he’d never get to see.

I’m happy for you.

Diana has understood happiness, in her life, brief, sharp bursts of joy, but this is new, and terrifying - she wakes with a smile, has to fight the curl of her lips on many an occasion, and her chest aches with the fullness of her contentment. Happy is not the right word for it. Happy encompasses too little, happy does not hit on the pang she feels sometimes when she wonders if it will all be snatched away from her, somehow.

She is terrified of waking up to find him gone.

“He really did it, huh?”

Diana stares down at the newspaper clipping, where she stands beside Sammy dressed resplendently, her smile warm as Sameer charms whoever had been interviewing him.

Her smile now is sad. “He tried. The world wasn’t ready for him.”

She’d been so glad to join Sameer on that red carpet, so proud to see him pushing the same sort of boundaries Etta had done with the suffragettes, she’d been so ready to watch the world change for the better once more.

Steve catches her meaning well enough. “It’s better now though, right?”

She tilts her head and holds his gaze, and she wants to tell him yes, wants to tell him that things have changed, that she has pulled the world up by it’s bootstraps, has helped to make it a better place. That humans are mostly good, and that race and creed and gender do not set people apart any longer.

Instead she stares at the newspaper clipping, running a finger over the headline announcing the films progressive casting, so hopeful and optimistic, so short lived.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he says, like he understands, like her silence is all the confirmation he needs that every inch of ground they’ve gained has been a No Man’s Land.

That night, as he presses a kiss to her lips for the first time since he returned, as he curls a hand around her elbow and cradles her face like she is a delicate thing, as his heart beats under the steal of the skin of her palm, his breath a heartbroken whisper across her skin, he stares at her, eyes blazing, a promise in his gaze to be better, be more, to help make this world a better place.

This is what had been missing all those years.

She is not happy. She is determined, once again, to see the world through eyes she’d let fall into despair one too many times. She has seen so much death, and grief, and war, and despite all of that, when Steve Trevor looks at her he sees into her soul and finds hope there.

She will not turn her back again.

------

Two months and five days later she is standing on a rooftop with Steve beside her as they watch the ground where he’d been standing not moments before swallowed whole, sinking in on itself. Her breath is ragged, not from exertion but from sheer terror, and Steve is staring at her, mouth bobbing open and closed like he does not know quite what to say.

He settles on, “Why didn’t you stop me?” It’s not an accusation, just a curious question, and Diana levels him with a look.

“Would you have ever tried to stop me?”

He laughs, eyes sparkling with mirth, and clutches at his stomach, the act of his laughter pulling at muscles strained with the exertion of the battle on the streets below. “Diana, you’re half god. Would it have mattered if I tried?”

“And you are Steve Trevor. Would it have mattered if I tried?”

He shakes his head, standing gingerly, the side of his mouth tipped up in a wry grin. “No. No it wouldn’t.”

Her expression falls serious, her hand reaching up to cradle his face. “I do not wish to lose you again,” she tells him, as an explosion rocks a building a few hundred yards away. “But I will not stand in the way if you wish to join me in this fight. I will never stand in the way of that.”

He blinks, and in his gaze she can see his dawning realization that she believes him to be her equal in all things, believes he has the strength of will to be a part of this fight.

She has never known a man quite like him before.

The bolt of the laser catches them both by surprise in the moments following, and Diana turns towards the source of it without a blink, shield held high to deflect the second shot - a moment later Barry has dashed across two buildings to engage on of the robotic things that are currently attacking the city, and Diana turns to Steve, to decide on their next move.

He’s holding his stomach, but the cringe on his face is not one of pained laughter, and Diana darts forward, reaching for the hand held against his body.

He is bleeding, a gash across the side of his body, and it makes no sense, she’s seen those weapons blast a hole through a person, seen the heat of it cauterize the wound, but Steve’s skin is knitting in on itself already, almost faster than she can see, and he gasps, cries out in pain, looking ready to keel over from the shock of it.

He stumbles and Diana reaches out too steady him, hand firm on his shoulder as he glances down at his side. There is a hole burned into his shirt on either side of his torso, but where the bolt had sliced through him there is only clean, unmarred skin.

Diana stares at him as he pulls at his shirt, yanking it up over where a mortal wound should have been, fingers pressing tenderly at his abdomen.

“Holy shit,” he says, and over the heat and the noise and the terror at the thought that she’d lost him, she can’t help but notice how quickly he’s come to enjoy this centuries profanity. “What the fuck?”

There’s no time, in the moment, to wonder any further at it - the city is under attack, and their own building is close to crumbling, and as Diana curls an arm around Steve’s waist and he holds on to her, all that comes to mind is thank the gods.

------

“He’s not a metahuman,” Barry concludes, his pen tapping out a rhythm against the glass of his desk. “He’s not...anything I’ve ever seen before. I mean. The closest thing his biology comes to is...yours.”

“So he’s a god,” Bruce is saying, but her ears are ringing, and her mind is whirring, and she struggles to pull in air.

“No, not a god, look, I deal in human biology and this is way beyond my paygrade.” Barry is rambling, which is not unusual, but she can tell by the rapid beat of his pen that he is both confused and unsure. “But I pulled a few blood samples - I’d like to point out that I broke a whole bunch of medical supplies doing this, his skin is harder than steal - and whatever his deal is, his cell regeneration is off the charts and -.”

“What does this mean?” Diana finally manages, cutting across him.

“It means the guy’s hard to kill,” comes the ever helpful voice of Arthur Curry, but Barry makes a noise low in his throat, shaking his head.

“No, that’s not - his cells don’t just react like that when he’s injured.”

“What are you saying?”

Barry turns too stare at her with wide eyes. “Look, I’m not saying the dude’s immortal, but...”

She pushes past him and out of the room, rushes past Clark Kent, risen from the dead himself, who gives her a grim nod as she practically runs by him, and up, up she goes, until she is out of the cave, pulling in deep, gasping breaths of air.

Her eyes raise to the skies, her limbs shake, and she wants to scream, to rail, to cry out in confusion, but there is nothing but blue sky above, no one to hear her bewilderment.

She does not know what it is she is feeling, until she returns to the small room where Barry has been conducting his tests, does not know how to describe the frantic pace of her heart in her chest or the shake of her hands until her fingers are clasped against Steve’s and he’s glancing up at her from his spot nestled against pillows Diana is fully aware Bruce smuggled in for him. Somehow, Steve has charmed even Bruce Wayne, and of all the incomprehensible things in her life as of late, this is the one that breaks her, makes her laugh amid tears while Steve pretends this is normal behavior from her.

She explains all that they know in fits and starts of laughter, and Steve takes it all in stride, nodding along like this makes any sense at all, and when she has run out of things to say, he closes his free hand over the one pressed to his heart.

“Well, that’s neat,” he says, and Diana’s eyes well over with tears as they both laugh again.

------

“Go for Trevor,” Steve says as he rolls away from the circle of her arms, his phone cupped against his head, naked as the day he was born. Diana enjoys watching the pull of his muscles as he nods along to whatever is being said on the other end of the line, and she ponders what it would take to tempt him back under the sheets with her. “Yeah, okay, slow your roll Bat Dude, I just woke up.”

Diana pulls a pillow over her mouth to hide her grin.

“This is not an emergency, is it?”

Steve turns then, to make a face at her, his hand opening and closing as he rolls his eyes, and Diana presses further into the pillow.

“Bruce, buddy, pal, I told you unless it was an end of the world type situation I needed, like, a week without hearing your voice. You know I love you, but a man has to have his space.” Steve hums at whatever Bruce is saying. “Okay, here’s the - Bruce. Bruce. This Selena bird sounds great, but I am on my honeymoon. Can we wait to creepily stalk her like any normal, totally sane man would until I get back?”

Diana sighs as Steve continues to make noises of acknowledgement, and rolls away, reaching for the robe hung on the bedpost.

She shuffles into the kitchenette, humming to herself as she half listens in on the one sided conversation happening in the bedroom, beginning the process of brewing coffee, toeing across the hardwood floors of the apartment they’d rented for the week to find the phone she’d abandoned on the stove the night before, when Steve had curled an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck, whispering truly filthy things in her ear.

There are fifteen notifications blinking at her, seven text messages from Bruce, two missed phone calls besides, and three emails she opens to find blurry footage of a woman scaling the walls of the Wayne mansion. The last three are messages from Barry, and she gets the full picture of the non emergency Steve is currently fielding.

not a 911 but someone broke into the Bat Cave

she punched bruce in the face

i think he’s in love

Steve shuffles into the kitchen a while later, looking defeated, and Diana smiles as he presses a distracted kiss to her forehead on his way to the freshly brewed coffee.

He settles in across from her, pulling out his phone, and Diana watches him, a smile on her face until he glances up to meet her gaze. “What?”

She tilts her head. “It’s nice.”

“What’s nice?”

Shaking her head, she gestures vaguely around them, her heart swelling at the look in his eyes, warm and quiet and full of promise for a future neither of them ever thought to have. “Having breakfast. Reading the newspaper.”

He chuckles, holding up his phone. “You know, when I said that, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. Never guessed I’d get my news the same way I got to deal with a guy dressed up as a bat having an existential crisis over a pretty thief.”

Her smile is wide as she reaches for his hand across the table, finding it still warm from his earlier grip around the mug of his coffee.

“Not everything is different,” she tells him, voice low, and his eyebrow jumps in anticipation.

“Do tell.”

“You still have to make babies the same way.”

He laughs, and pulls her half across the table, meeting her lips for a quick kiss. She chases his lips when he pulls away.

“That is categorically untrue, Diana, but I like where you’re going with this.”

She swallows his laughter against her tongue, and neither of them speaks for a while.

#wondertrev ff #wondertrev fic #diana x steve #god i want to write like a million and two things about these two #sorry not sorry for refusing to explain why steve is miraculously alive #it's not the point #the point is i love this dynamic and i want diana to be happy #wonder woman fic

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hekate1308 · 7 years

Text

Hell On Wheels

There can never be too many Crowley survival stories. Never. So here, have more from this universe.

His mother needed a few weeks to regain the strength to leave her bed. The witch had sucked her almost dry by the point Crowley and the boys had arrived.

They would have to figure out what to do with her once her magic had replenished herself, but for the moment, there was little to do but make sure she recovered. One of them stayed at the bunker at all times, admittedly not just to look after Rowena but also to check that she didn’t get up to any shenanigans.

Crowley certainly didn’t want her to start wreaking havoc the way she’d tried to in Hell.

In Hell.

Some days, his demonic existence seemed like a dream, or rather a nightmare. Some days, it was almost incredibly that he hadn’t just grown up a hunter and eventually joined the Winchesters on their quest to look after this doomed amazing stupid world.

“How is she today?” Dean asked, entering the kitchen.

“I haven’t checked on her yet. I’m making breakfast”.

Dean nodded.

“And how are you?”

“I’m fine” he said, frowning. There was little reason to ask.

“It’s not exactly easy, your dead mother showing up”. He smiled somewhat sadly.

“Trust me, I know”.

“I can assure you Mary is nothing like my mother”.

Even with the mistakes she’d continued to make after she’d been resurrected.

“I guess. That story with the pigs true?”

“Yep”.

“Man, I’d have thought you’d at least be worth more than three”.

“That’s exactly what I think”.

After a short pause Dean said, “She’s really happy you’re alive, you know”.

He’d assumed her joy at seeing him had been a product of her being semi-conscious at the time.

“I know you don’t believe it, but last week, when you were on the case in Wisconsin... She’s awake for longer periods, now. Plenty of time to talk”.

Not when Crowley was with her. She slept most of the time then, or gave monosyllabic answers.

Dean must have read what he felt on his face, because he nudged him to the side and took over at the stove.

“She’s pretty freaked out. Still tough as nails, but I’m pretty sure there was torture going on at the beginning before they grew too weak to fight”.

And his mother would have fought for a long time before even accepting that she might be too weak, Crowley well knew.

“She definitely told her you were dead over and over. Rowena hinted at some visions she showed her.”

Dean grimaced.

“Can’t be easy, watching your kid gut himself. Wasn’t a pretty sight”.

He could have sworn that his mother would gladly have done the gutting herself, in times when she didn’t need him.

“Look, ultimately it’s your call” Dean said. “And of course it depends on what she’s like when she’s back on full power. Could be useful to have an ally who can just stroll into Hell whenever she wants”.

Only that he had no idea if Rowena would decide to be their ally. She might decide that on second thought, her son being alive and human was of no use to her.

“And if she wants to leave?”

“We’re not keeping anyone against their will here” Dean said, only to remember and to add, “Anymore”.

“The dungeon really isn’t that uncomfortable. You’ve been too Hell” he replied lightly.

Dean laughed.

“Not exactly eager to repeat the trip, I tell you”.

Even with Death being... well dead and his replacement long gone, and the angels being rather antagonistic towards the Winchesters and free will, Crowley was certain he wouldn’t. The boys would end up in Heaven, probably causing chaos like they always did.

While he wasn’t looking forward to Death, Heaven was a more pleasing prospect than the one awaiting him.

Crowley was rather certain he was going to repeat his former career. And there were bound to be many demons who would cherish his transformation.

As if the thought of becoming one again wasn’t enough to make his skin crawl since he’d woken up with a human soul.

“There”.

Dean handed him a tray. Lost in thought, he’d not even noticed he’d finished cooking.

“Just take it slow. No reason to rush. For once, there’s no world-ending crisi on our hands”.

He nodded.

“Thank you”.

“Forget about it”.

For the first time, his mother was sitting up in bed, waiting.

“Good morning”.

“Fer- Crowley”.

He was surprised; ever since she had appeared on the scene, she’d stubbornly used his given name.

“Good morning”.

He put the tray down in front of her.

“Thank you”.

The last time she’d thanked him for something, he’d just blown up her ex-boyfriend in front of her.

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’m growing stronger every day”.

He nodded.

An awkward silence followed.

He’d fantasized about killing her so many times, and she’d probably done the same, concerning him.

“Dean tells me you’re a good hunter” she finally said.

“I gathered some experience in the parallel world”.

If he hadn’t been a good fighter, he’d have died long before they ever found the portal.

“I am a little surprised. I would have thought you’d choose another career”.

In truth, he had never even contemplated that.

“Like Dean said, I’m good at it”.

And he had to do something to cleanse himself of all the guilt. Everything he’d done in the last few centuries...

“I see”.

“He also said you’ve been talking”.

He hadn’t even been aware that she was fit enough to speak for hours already. She must have kept it from him on purpose.

She nodded.

“I might have to take back my complaints about you running after the Winchesters all the time. They happen to be quite catching”.

He couldn’t agree more.

“You didn’t have to bring me here. You could have taken me to a hospital”.

They could have, but it wouldn’t have felt right.

“You know the boys”.

“I beg to differ”. She studied him.

“I’m starting to think I’ve always been wrong about one particular member of the team”.

“Dean has always been smarter than – “

“I wasn’t talking about him” she interrupted him.

“You’ve – you’re a good man”.

He chuckled.

“I am not so sure”.

“I can’t be either” she conceded. “I have precious little experience with being good”.

“We both have, I dare to say”.

Another pause.

He was about to excuse himself when she said, “I withstood as long as I could”.

“I never doubted that”.

“She broke me” she spat, her face furious. “I swore never to be broken, and she broke me”.

“We killed her.”

It was small consolation, but it would have to do.

Rowena balled her hands into fists.

“I hope it hurt”.

He couldn’t tell her that. They tried to cause no unnecessary pain when they killed.

They weren’t demons.

Anymore.

“She broke me” she repeated, “and I never got to have my revenge”.

“Better for all, really. There might be other witches like her. They would have come after you again, then”.

She stared at him, then laughed – a weak impression of her former laugh, but it was enough.

“I almost forgot you’re human for a second”.

“I did too, in the beginning”.

He’d had several close calls because he’d tried to simply blast demons and other monsters out of the way.

If it hadn’t been for Bobby and Mary, he wouldn’t have been alive right now.

“And you have no idea why you’re...”

She trailed off.

He shook his head.

“Dean said she showed you what happened?”

She looked away, and he only understood why she suddenly seemed embarrassed when she said, “I told you she broke me”.

He’d never have imagined that it would be the pain at his loss that would triumph over his mother’s iron will.

“Anyway, I had it all planned. A big final scene, the orchestra flares up, I save the world by heroically sacrificing myself. I have no idea what went wrong. But next thing I know, I wake up in an apocalyptic wasteland, Lucifer is running around, and the boys are gone”.

His eyes blink open. He’s confused and doesn’t even know why. He takes a few deep breaths to calm down, his heart beating –

Wait. His heart is beating? His heart hasn’t beaten in a long time, not since his wife accused him of not having one to begin with –

Yes. He has a pulse. He is breathing, and every muscle on his body is sore –

He tries to clean up his suit with a blink and fails.

The conviction steals upon him slowly, bewildered as he is by the fact that he can even think about it in the first place.

He’s human.

He’s alive and he’s human.

And he’s helpless in the Apocalypse.

“You joined the humans? Dean said you killed Lucifer. Bragged about it a bit, now that I think about it”.

Dean had developed a habit of doing that, usually accompanied by a story how he himself killed Hitler.

“Yes. Me and Mary managed to corner him.”

“It must have been satisfying”.

“It was”.

And perhaps, at the moment, he’d thought of his mother, burned to a crisp at the devil’s feet. Just a little.

“What happens now?” she asked. “Are you planning on keeping me here?”

He shrugged.

“You’re not planning any evil deeds, are you?”

“You know me; I only look out for myself, that is all”.

“In that case you can walk out of here when you’re better”.

“That’s all?”

“Want me to throw you in the dungeon?”

She smirked.

“You’re human now, you can experience guilt. You wouldn’t leave me in there for half a day”.

“I would if you tried to harm my friends”.

She stared at him.

“You really have changed”.

“You said it yourself. I’m human”.

“A bit more than that, I’d say. You’re a hunter”.

He nodded.

“You really should get some more rest”.

As he reached the door, Rowena said quietly, “I’m really happy that you’re alive”.

He didn’t answer.

The boys were having breakfast.

“She’s doing well” he said before anyone could ask.

“Kind of figured this wouldn’t get her there. If someone comes back after being killed by Lucifer twice...”

“She’s certainly making progress” Cas said, looking guilty. Despite knowing they didn’t blame him for his inability to heal people, he still felt bad when he couldn’t.

“Her magic should come back soon” Sam said, “I’ve read that witches – “

“No offense, Moose, but I’m sure I know more about it than you have ever read”.

“None taken. You’re right”.

“I think we can leave her alone when we’re going on hunts now. She’ll get out of bed one of these days”.

His phone rang.

“Sheriff Mills”.

He put her on speaker.

“Hi, boys. Crowley, how’s your mother?”

“Almost back to her old spritely ways, thank you for asking”.

“Glad to hear it. You free? There’s a case near you that looks like ghouls to me, Peter agrees”.

“Peter?”

“Peter Jones. A hunter I met some time ago”.

“Oh? There something you want to tell us?” Dean teased her.

“I will let you know that I am actually an adult and capable of making my own decisions. Plus, he’s not my type”.

“And what would that happen to be?” Crowley asked before he could stop himself.

“You know, there was this guy once, pretty hot, but he tried to kill me, so...”

“Would you stop that? It’s like watching my parents flirt” Dean complained.

“Just having a little fun, Winchester, that’s allowed”.

“Alright” Sam said, “What about the case?”

Cas hid a smile.

He’d really been turned completely human, just like Crowley himself.

Before they left for the case, he knocked at his mother’s door.

“Sure” she answered to his question, “I can get up easily now. As long as the kitchen is stoked, I will be fine”.

“It is”.

As if Dean would ever have allowed something different.

She nodded.

“Take care of yourself, Crowley”.

“Right back at you” he managed to answer.

There were times when his human life was better than anything he’d ever known.

#my writings #crowley #MY SON IS ALIVE #AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE

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nekumiko · 7 years

Text

Simple and clean, or so she wished

Fandom: Bangtan Sonyeondan (BTS)

Genre: Fluff

Rated: G

Words: 3, 004

Chapter: 1 | 2

Summary: In which BTS gets a cleaning lady and they end up a (welcome) distraction. Or is it the other way around?

Prologue: The Cleaning Lady-in-hiding

Rule #1: Stay invisible.

What she has is authorized access to the seven’s official shared living quarters, as well as the right to touch what they had touched, had sat on, had eaten with – and get paid for it.

It’s not much hard work (at least, for a clean freak like her). She just has to vacuum, sweep, wipe down, scrub. Disinfect. Arrange the fridge, cupboards, racks, shelves. Take out the trash. Wash dishes if necessary. Basically make their dorm unit comfortable, safe, and sanitary to live in, now that they’ve become increasingly busy to do so.

She doesn’t even need to come daily, but just once a week. Though that is even if they’re not in the country these days. Accumulating dust takes no rest.

Most importantly, there exists the privilege that she has yet to make use of: seeing Bangtan Sonyeondan anytime for free. Up close and personal, with no cameras to act for.

And it’s no question now too if the guys themselves even know of her existence. They have been going home to a notably cleaner and carefully tidied up house for months already.

Only the day itself of the actual meeting of the fan and the fawned over – who practically almost live together what with the way she already knows where every piece of furniture and appliance down to the littlest collectible should go – now awaits.

But that’s exactly why the girl, who prides herself as someone who knows how to respect personal space, had to self-impose rules.

The first, and not to mention the most important of which, is she can’t see the boys. Much less leave a chance of interaction.

As famous as they could get, they’re still normal human beings who might just be creeped out to meet the person invading and then touching and moving things about in their home.

Especially since she’s not the usual middle-aged cleaning lady, but a teenager. Youth is known for being pretty aggressive and invasive (and hormonal). Also, modern teenage girls are usually active on the Internet.

What sort of secrets had she already tried uncovering? Or worse, had already found out and revealed? What kind of pictures had she already taken? Questions like these will surely rise.

Then again, she might just be overthinking all this. But can anyone blame her? These people are the closest she could consider as crushes. Of course there’s reason to assume the worst-case scenario.

There have been no actual incidents of damaged and stolen property nor leaked information, though, for she follows the actual restrictions of this job.

Aside from the standard confidentiality agreement she had signed, the bedrooms (where the boys are supposed to keep all of their private belongings, not scattered around) are off-limits, and she’s not obliged to do the laundry too – both of which she’s honestly grateful for. She’s not the kind of fan who would go so far as to intentionally breach into that kind of privacy.

So far, she’d succeeded in avoiding them, never failing to purposely arrive at ten a.m. – assuming they’ve all gone to attend to any appointment they have for the day that late in the morning – and finish up no later than one p.m.

But today, a fine Saturday morning, the lights are on. And laughter can be heard from the inside.

She’s basically frozen outside the door (out of the way, though, so as to keep her silhouette from reflecting onto the frosted glass) for a few minutes now, the question “Why wasn’t I informed?” on loop in her head at the same time with her reality check.

She’d seen this coming, really. Of course she knows she can’t stay away from them like this forever. Of course she knows it’s more likely for her to cross paths with them while she’s on the job.

It’s just… too soon.

Yes, three months (of getting familiarized with the boys’ personal preferences and scents without them ever catching a single glimpse of her) is still too short a preparation for this confrontation, as she’d dubbed it.

Moreover…

How could I meet them in these clothes? This hair! And bare face! …Maybe I should just call in sick? But I won’t get paid for this week! WHY WASN’T I INFORMED?

She closes her eyes and rests back against the wall.

I cannot do this. Who am I kidding?

Carefully putting down the full set of cleaning materials she’d hauled with her, she brings her phone out to dial her employer – their manager, Sejin.

She’s not really sure of what to say (is she even entitled to know when their off days would be?), but her fingers are faster than her coherent thoughts, and now her phone’s connecting the call.

Just as the laughter grows louder and the door swings open to reveal a face she hadn’t seen up close since middle school, along with his youngest bouncy-haired hyung, both lurching towards her direction as if they’re on a run.

She squeaks in surprise, almost dropping her phone, as she braces herself for a collision that was apparently stopped on instinct by the younger male’s grip on the doorway, effectively stopping their momentum.

A few seconds pass to recover from the shock.

And to let the fact that someone unfamiliar is outside their dorm sink in.

As she steps back nervously, the guys seemed to come back to their senses and jumped back into the threshold.

Well, no. It’s just in the case of the maknae, only accidentally pushing back his confused-turned-curious hyung who had clung onto him, and consequently bumping into whoever’s coming up behind them to nose around.

She would have laughed if the situation was different – say, if she’s not the cause of Jungkook’s terrified expression.

Okay, she gets how surprising this is, but it’s not like she’s an ax murderer. And he actually knows her. Or does he, even?

“You… what are you doing here?” he speaks above the others’ interjections.

Oh. He does. Maybe she just looks horrifyingly ugly. “H-housekeeping…?” she reaches for the abandoned broom, which to her now feels like a weapon that could startle him more.

“Who’s that?” they hear a voice from further inside the house, followed by footsteps drawing closer to the door.

“A friend of Jungkookie we’re surprised to know about?” Taehyung grins at the younger, who then sputters.

“But we aren’t expecting anyone else, ri – oh,” the handsome bare face of the eldest pops by the doorway. He blinks twice before his gaze drops to the rest of her cleaning materials. “I see, so she’s the same person.” He looks behind him. “How come you didn’t tell us you’re friends?��

Jungkook’s eyes grew wider as he holds up his hands defensively. “Believe me, hyung, I don’t know anything about this.”

“But you’re friends?” Hoseok speaks from behind Taehyung.

“Um…” she starts, turning all eyes back to her. “We never really said we are.”

Silence. For a whole ten seconds. Before the guys, except for the maknae now with his mouth hanging open at a loss for words, burst into laughter.

“W-what I mean is, we were only old classmates!” she tries to talk over them. “Never really close enough to be called friends, just seated a few rows from each other and occasionally interacting… oh gosh, that must have been rude…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Namjoon smiles at her. “We get it. And that is actually convenient.”

“Because Jungkookie’s saved from having to awkwardly introduce himself!” Jimin manages to say before bursting into another fit of giggles.

Now she has to smirk at that.

“Hey, now,” she hears Jungkook mutter, so she turns his way just in time to catch him quickly looking away from her.

“Please,” Seokjin calls for her attention as the laughter dies down, opening the door wider and stepping to the side, “come in. You’re our guest today.”

“Guest?” She shakes her head. “Oh no, I’m here to work!”

Seokjin briefly looks at the other members, who only stare back at him. “Well, if you insist. But you would have to come in anyway, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry.” Then it suddenly clicks. “But how do you seem to know about me coming here today?”

“The manager – hey, wait,” Seokjin points to her phone in her hand, its screen still lit up, a contact name familiar to all of them on display, “don’t you need to take that call?”

For days, she’d been relying on her phone to check the time, all the while lamenting over the wristwatch she thought she’d lost but is now sitting on a table in the Bangtan dorm.

What happened to Rule #1?

After the call confirming that the members do expect her arrival (“They were really surprised to find an unfamiliar watch in their dorm. But instead of asking me to return it, they thought it’s high time they could meet you and thank you for all your hard work. Such good boys, huh?”), she was ushered into the living room of the seven (yes, Yoongi had opted for just a short nap today – or at least wait until all pleasantries are said and done, and then he could go back to bed) beautiful people now crowding around her.

It had only been a dream to see them up close, but those dreams have been set in fanmeets she’d been wishing to actually get the time to go to. In those, she’d be hyped up by fellow fans she would’ve been surrounded with, so she would’ve felt bold enough to properly look at and talk to these guys, considering they don’t know her identity as their cleaning lady.

But no, here she is completely alone, dressed in an unflattering way, with her self-proclaimed issue of being a supposed creep resurfacing. The cleaning materials she could be holding onto now for an attempt at emotional stability are placed by the door by one of the boys while she was on the phone.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks.

Cautiously, she looks up. “Y-yes, just… still in shock, is all.”

“Well, the manager did forget to tell you he agreed to this day.”

Forget. Hah. For all she knew, this could be an early birthday prank. She had heard the laugh in his tone. “It’s okay. I understand that he is busy too,” she tries to smile, but has to look down again. “He also said that we could just think of this as a… special fan meet?”

“Yeah, since you’re the only fan today!” Hoseok replies with a sunshine-bright smile. “We’re all yours~”

It’s cute that the rest nodded almost at the same time, most of them flashing grins.

She could just faint.

But that’s not how they’re supposed to be acting towards me. They shouldn’t even be acting today. They shouldn’t be forced to be nice, she thinks as she fidgets with her fingers on her lap.

“W-wow, yeah. But aren’t you even weirded out by all this? Someone as young as me… invading your personal space?”

Misunderstanding their lack of reaction as her fears of being misjudged coming true, the nerves build up again as she continues in a manner so rushed it could rival their rapping (kidding). “Oh no, I mean, I swear I have only ever been to the kitchen, dining room, and living room. I’ve never gone nor even peeked at the bedrooms, nor touched the laundry, and I never meant to see,” – two to three pairs of, well, innerwear – “some stuff strewn around the place.“

At that, some visibly blush while some cough.

Realizing everything she just said, she lowers her head in shame. You just dug your own grave!

“Relax,” Namjoon says after a beat, and she looks up to see his shy but kind smile. “We’ve been briefed about the specifics of your job.” He puts a hand behind his neck. “Although it was a week after you started that we found out we have a teenager for a cleaning lady. So, sorry about the… stuff. They weren’t intentionally left out, just fell out of the pile of freshly-laundered clothes.”

“Oh. I-I see.” That explains why she only saw those once, thankfully.

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “So I guess we’ve never met you until now because of that?”

She nods, “I was… afraid I’d come off as a sasaeng because of my age. That you would think I took this job just to… well…” she trails off, eyes again cast downward.

“You aren’t a sasaeng, that much we know. You wouldn’t be here now if you are, right? What with breach of contract.”

She mouths an ‘oh’ before nodding. “Y-yes, you’re correct.”

“Then, we’re good,” their leader smiles reassuringly, to which she returned with a shy one of her own.

Curse overthinking tendencies.

“So she’s not the one who took—“

“Ya, don’t make bad jokes like that,” Seokjin lightly hits Taehyung’s arm as her eyes widened.

“But she’s as cute as how Jungkookie gets around girls!” Jimin flashes his eye-smile at her and then at the maknae, who glares back at him. “Going back, it’s really alright. It could’ve been a worse situation, like having bad blood with Jungkook.”

“Please stop, hyung.”

“Why don’t you say something, then? Comforting words from someone familiar could be the finishing touch.”

It seems like everyone else agrees, as they all look at him expectantly.

It takes a few seconds for the panicked Jungkook before he could raise his eyes towards her, clear his throat, and smile. “Look, there’s nothing to worry about. We don’t bite! My hyungs are really nice, take my word for it. And, um,” the smile quivers, “I’m here, so you could… talk to me anytime. If you feel like it. It’s okay. You don’t have to overthink. And welcome to our dorm, I guess.”

She wants to squeal. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that. Thank you,” she says with a now-relaxed smile, her shoulders visibly losing their tension.

“Aww, that’s our ever-dependable Jungkookie!” Hoseok pats – rather unintentionally hard – the youngest’s back.

Namjoon takes over once again. “Then maybe we could start over with proper introductions?”

“Ah, you’re right.” She states her full name. “I am a niece of your manager’s friend, and I was hand-picked based on my uncle’s recommendation… and maybe because I’m former classmates with Jungkook-ssi… plus I just moved in the area and I was in need of a part-time job.”

“I guess you really aren’t close,” Taehyung mutters to Jungkook.

“I guess you really aren’t friends,” Jimin pats the youngest’s shoulder.

“This joke is getting old, hyung,” Jungkook playfully shakes them off.

“Stop it, now,” Seokjin looks at them, effectively wiping off the ‘95-liners’ grins in an instant.

“Alright,” Namjoon once more steers the conversation back on track. “Though you might already know us…” He proceeds to list off their names starting with himself and then by age on accident, which to him is just a matter of proximity.

She giggles.

“Oh?” Hoseok grins at her again. “What’s got you laughing now?”

“It just sounded like you’re doing a fan chant.”

The members look at each other and chuckle at the realization.

She keeps her smile as she bows. “It’s nice to meet you.” She raises her head to see their synchronized bows back, much to her amusement.

“Well then,” Seokjin says, “now that all that’s over with, let’s proceed to fulfilling today’s mission: thanking you! Seriously, today should’ve been a day off for you too.”

Here he goes again. But before she could even say a word of protest…

“Then, have you eaten?”

Because leave it to Seokjin to bring up food anytime. And to keep you from ignoring his wishes. With a discreet sigh, she answers, “Yes. I always make sure to eat breakfast before work. Which usually starts at…” She reaches for her watch on the table, which shows it’s 10 quarter in the morning, making her purse her lips, “10 a.m.”

“Okay, then it’s lunch for you.”

She nods, because as if there’s still a way out of this anyway, and also since refusing any more would be really rude already. “Alright. Thank you, I guess. No, I mean, thank you already!” She sighs and collects herself for a few seconds, “May I get started, then?”

“Sure,” Hoseok beams at her. “We would even help you out!”

“No, no way! You can’t!”

Her sudden vigorous shaking of her head and hands in denial, and the rise in her tone of voice as she almost stands up from her seat, surprises the seven.

Realizing this, she feigns clearing her throat. “I mean, it would be like cheating my work, if I let others clean with me. I hope you understand.”

“Well,” Yoongi speaks for the first time, “that is fine by me.”

“Hyung!”

“Yoongi-ah!”

“What?” he shrugs. “The kid is trying to make a living, so who are we to hinder her from following her life principles or whatever?”

The members shake their heads while she giggles again. “Thank you. On that note, I do have one important request.”

“What is it?” Namjoon asks.

“I would like to kindly ask you all to stay off the areas I need to clean. Or more like, to please stay in your rooms? I promise I won’t take long… and I would clean the kitchen first.”

The remaining rules she made up would not even be worth mentioning if the first one hadn’t been violated.

It wasn’t a bad experience, though. (She even scored a meal made by Kim Seokjin himself, and dined with them, at that.) It had just involved a lot of mental stress on her part.

But now that she is finally acquainted with the boys, and though she does not want to assume that they might try harder to time their rest days with her days at the dorm, she now deems it more important than ever to observe these.

Yet, whether they intend for her to or not, she might just be bound to break her own rules.

Next: Helping Hand

#jeon jungkook x reader #kim taehyung x reader #park jimin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #jung hoseok x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin x reader #nekumiko #not really a reverse harem

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supernatural-imagine-oneshot · 7 years

Text

Not Cas

Request: A fic where cas beats the shit out of the reader because he's not in control like in 8x17 and reader not wanting to hurt him so they don't fight back? Maybe a p2 could be reader confronting cas because he's been avoiding her since?

Request: Can i request a Castiel imagine when Naomi is controlling him to kill you and he almost do (you're hurt so badly) and you try to make him conscious, and he finally does. And you're mad at him and refuse to be healed, he begs for ur forgiveness

A/N: Not gonna lie, I don’t really remember the episode where it’s revealed that Cas is being mind controlled, and I’m too lazy to research it or check. So... I’m taking some artistic license and just doing what I can/want.

Warning: Blood, fight, some angst

The warehouse was stereotypically creepy; large, dark, and full of creaking, leaking pipes. Your angel blade was gripped tightly in your hand, knowing one of those winged dicks was bound to show up.

Castiel had called you, begging you to meet him in that location. Normally, you’d bring Sam or Dean along, most likely both, but Cas had insisted you come alone. It was a strange request, but who were you to turn the angel down? He’d been nothing but loyal, and was one of your best friends.

“Cas?” You called out, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

This didn’t sit right with you. Why did Cas need you to meet him here? And why was he so adamant about you being alone?

Feeling incredibly stupid, you pulled your phone out. Sam was the last person you’d called, before Cas, and you held the phone to your ear as your phone was ringing, waiting to connect with his. Your heart started to race, and you tapped your foot impatiently.

“Y/N?” Sam answered.

“Sam, I’m at a warehouse and I think about about to be ambushed. Track my phone and get over here.” You wasted no time in letting Sam know about the danger you were in.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said quickly, panic growing inside him. “Keep your phone on. Dean and I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, then hung up. You slid your phone into your pocket, then adjusted your grip on your angel blade.

You continued walking through the building, keeping your footsteps light and silent.

“Y/N.” Castiel’s voice sounded behind you, and you whirled around. You sighed in relief when you saw that it was, in fact, your angel.

“Cas, what the Hell? You know how creepy this is?!” Although, thinking about it, Cas probably didn’t realize how weird it was to meet in a warehouse. You suddenly felt like calling Sam and telling him to stay home.

Cas just stared at you for a moment, and you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.

And then he lunged forward.

Cas’ fist connected with your right cheek, making you spin around and fall to the floor. “Cas!” You shouted, placing your hand to your face. “What was that-”

Castiel interrupted you with his fist. He punched you again, this time in the mouth. You tasted blood instantly, your lips no doubt split open. You looked up at the angel, watching as he brought his fist down again. You managed to roll away from his attack, but he simply walked towards you, movements sure and tense.

“Cas, stop!” You pleaded, getting to your knees and holding your hands out to him.

You watched in horror as Castiel reached down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, allowing him to keep your head in one place. You tried to search his eyes, to find a reason behind his action- but you saw nothing. His usual lively, curious, bright blue eyes were now dull, almost dead.

“Cas-” He punched you in the face again, stopping you from trying to plead with him.

Your mouth was full of blood. Your nose was bleeding. It felt like your cheekbones had been broken, pounded until they were cracked and snapped in half. It was becoming hard to breathe.

You realized you still had the angel blade in your hand and you looked up at Cas as he pulled his arm back, preparing himself for another punch.

Castiel had been your friend for years, always there for you and loyal. You knew he would never hurt you, not consciously anyway. He wasn’t in his right mind, couldn’t be. You realized that he wasn’t in control of his actions. His eyes weren’t right, weren’t his.

You couldn’t attack him.

All you could do was take the beating, hope you could break him out of whatever trance he was in, and wait for the Winchesters.

As Castiel’s fist connected with your face yet again, you gripped the sleeve of his trench coat, hoping to stop him. “Cas... Please.” Even to you, your voice sounded weak. You inhaled, your chest hitching at the amount of blood flooding your lungs.

Castiel stared down at you, and for a moment, just a moment, you saw the old Cas flash inside his eyes. But it was gone just as quick, and Cas’ fist landed square on your nose.

You couldn’t support yourself on your knees anymore, and fell to your side, blood splattering around your head. Castiel slowly advanced on you, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver of fear that ran down you.

His shoes clicked against the concrete floor until he was right beside you. “Cas-” His foot connected with your ribs, making you roll so that you were then lying on your back.

If it was hard to breathe before, it was near impossible now. Your chest heaved as you desperately tried to bring in some air, but to no avail.

As you struggled to simply breathe, Castiel leaned down and took your angel blade.

“Cas, no,” you gasped, voice scratchy and low. “Please.”

“Fight... me,” Cas ground out, although it obviously took a lot of willpower.

“I can’t,” you managed to say. “You need to-” you stopped as a shuddering breath passed through you, “-fight it.”

Cas’ jaw clenched, and the angel blade shook in his hand.

He knelt beside you, blade raised just above your chest, shaking more and more as time passed.

And then the blade clattered to the floor and Castiel fell back, letting out a deep, scared breath.

You knew you needed to grab the blade, needed it to protect yourself; but you couldn’t, you had no energy to grab it.

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice tore through the warehouse, followed by pounding footsteps.

“Over here!” Dean shouted, and soon you were being pulled into someone’s arms. “What happened, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t respond. You needed to focus fully on breathing. You weakly pointed at Cas, watching as Dean followed your finger, then his eyes widened in realization.

“Y/N!” Sam exclaimed, relief evident in his voice. “What happened? Cas, you need to heal-!”

“Cas caused this,” Dean stated, voice harsh as he glared at the angel.

“I was mind controlled,” Cas said through his heavy breaths, looking at you, blue eyes clouding with guilt. “I can heal you,” Cas promised, shifting so his hand could touch you.

Your body jerked away from him, and you shook your head, wheezing as your lungs filled with blood. Your vision was swimming, black spots appearing before your eyes.

“He needs to heal her,” Sam said, panic filling his words.

“He did this to her,” Dean growled.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t-”

“Let’s get her to a hospital,” Dean ordered, picking you up and running towards the Impala.

“Stay close, in case she needs last minute saving,” Sam said to Castiel. “And when we’re sure she’s safe, we’ll talk about what you did.” Sam’s voice became hard, showing how hard it would be for him to move past this.

You came in and out of consciousness as the boys took you to the hospital. Castiel had disappeared quickly, although promised to be around if he was needed.

When you arrived at the hospital, you were rushed into surgery. Sam and Dean paced the waiting room, glancing at the door you’d been wheeled through every few minutes.

And then, finally, “You’re Miss. Y/L/N’s family, right?”

“Yes,” Sam and Dean answered in unison, whirling on the nurse.

“She’s out of surgery, she’s expected to make a full recovery. She sustained a few broken bones, punctured lungs, a concussion, and major bruising. She’s awake now, and ready to see you.”

Sam and Dean didn’t need to be told twice. They rushed straight past the nurse and towards your room.

“Y/N,” Sam greeted you in a sigh of relief.

“Hey guys,” your voice was as weak as you felt, and you looked twice as bad. Your entire face was puffy and bruised, your nose sticking at an odd angle with a strip of tape over it. You had bandages wrapped around your torso, completely covering your top half.

“What happened?” Dean asked, crossing the room and sitting on the side of your bed.

“Cas called me and said he needed to meet me. I didn’t think anything of it. And then he showed up and started to beat me.”

“Mind control?” Sam guessed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, nodding. “I can’t blame the guy.”

“Well I can,” Dean said in a hard voice.

“No you can’t,” you stated. “He couldn’t control himself. We’ve all done shit before. Nobody died.”

“You could have.”

“He broke out of it before he could kill me.”

Dean sighed, but reluctantly nodded. “Alright.”

“Uh, guys, we’re gonna have to run,” Sam said, peaking out the door of your room. “Police just showed up- they’re gonna have questions.”

“There’s a wheel chair in that closet. Let’s get out of here,” you said, wincing as you rose from the bed.

For the next few weeks you stayed in the bunker, slowly recovering. Your bruises turned a strange greenish yellow color. You were still stiff, still couldn’t move exactly the same way as before Cas’ beating. But your spirits were high, and Sam and Dean had finally stopped treating you like you were glass.

The only problem was Castiel.

The angel hadn’t visited you at all. He hadn’t been around, wasn’t answering any of your prayers, and any time you called him it went to voicemail.

“He’s avoiding me,” you lamented, pouting at Sam.

“Well, he did beat you half to death.”

“But I’ve forgiven him!”

“Did you tell him that?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. You hadn’t exactly had a chance to tell him that. “I mean, I prayed it to him.”

“He probably thinks you’ll be scared of him,” Sam said.

“But-”

“Y/N, you should have seen yourself back at that warehouse. When Cas tried to heal you, you basically jumped away from him. You looked disgusted that he’d try to touch you.” Sam’s voice was sincere, honest.

“How else was I supposed to react?” You knew how desperate you sounded, but it was true. After Cas’ fists delivering blow after blow, you couldn’t just let him touch you. It was instinct.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just trying to help you understand.”

“Well I hate it.” Sam flashed you a sympathetic look. “I’m gonna go pray to him.”

And with that you pushed yourself off your seat and hobbled to your room.

You sat at the edge of your bed, hands clasped together, head bowed, eyes closed. “Castiel. Cas, it’s Y/N. I really need to talk to you. I think you owe me that much.”

You cracked an eye open, peaking around your room- it was empty except for you.

“C’mon, you stupid angel!” You growled.

There was a fluttering of wings behind you, and you spun around. You winced as your speed made your muscles hurt, but you didn’t care; you were finally seeing Cas.

“Hello,” his voice was low, eyes downcast like he was too ashamed to look at you.

“Cas,” you sighed, rising to your feet. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You shouldn’t want to see me. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Well I want to see you. You’re my friend.”

“Not after what I did.”

You’d been slowly advancing on the angel, and you were right in front of him; the whole time he didn’t look at you. You reached forward and gripped his upper arm. “You weren’t in control.”

“I should have been stronger. I should have fought it. And now you’re-”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“How can you say that?” He demanded, finally looking at you. “You almost died. You almost died, and you wouldn’t let me heal you because you hated me and-”

“I don’t hate you! God, Cas! I didn’t let you heal me because I was scared. I’m not proud of it, but I thought you were going to kill me. I know you weren’t. And you broke yourself out of that mind control because you could kill me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.” You held eye contact, not allowing Cas to look away from you.

“I’m sorry.” Cas’ voice broke and his shoulders jerked backwards, like he was holding back tears.

You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around the angel, holding him close to you. “You can make it up to me by healing me.”

Cas completed the hug, resting his hands on your back. You could feel a warmth spread through your body, relaxing your stiff muscles. When you backed away from the hug, you felt good as new.

“Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Cas replied, giving you an earnest look. “I don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”

“You didn’t disappoint me,” you promised him. “Let’s move on from this whole thing. Please.”

Cas nodded, guilt still clouding his blue eyes.

“Follow me to the library. We’ll have to gank the son of a bitch that got into your mind,” you ordered, grabbing Cas’ sleeve and pulling him through the bunker. Cas still felt guilty, and that was understandable. But you were going to help him move on in the best way you knew how- kill the bitch that caused all that pain.

#Supernatural Imagine #Supernatural Oneshot #Supernatural #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Sam #Mind control #Fluff #Angst

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shadowrx · 6 years

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Kendra - Lv 00, Ch 01 by ShadowRx

Kendra - Chapter 01 - HFBP! (c) 2017 by Shadowriter (that's right, I wrote something this year!) ShadowRx.DeviantArt.com www.patreon.com/ShadowRx CONTENT WARNING: I don't need to give you content warnings, if you're in my gallery and bookshelf you have a pretty good idea what to expect. --- LEVEL: 00 --- She was really starting to hate mirrors. But in truth she wasn't sure whether it was the reflection or the tape measure that disgusted her more. "Happy fucking birthday, pig.", she said to the short, somewhat chubby girl staring back at her. '18 years old and I look exactly the same as I did at 15... maybe a little fatter, if that's even possible.', she thought shaking her head. Kendra screamed in frustration as she threw the tape on her dresser... she didn't even bother writing the numbers, they were the same as last year (with yet another inch on her waist!). "Why!?", she bellowed to the universe as she slammed her bedroom door and got into the shower. Why couldn't she be more like her characters? She was an Amazonian Warrior Goddess trapped in the body of a Dwarven Couch-Potato! She couldn't understand it. She watched her intake vigorously, taking in only half the recommended calories; she ran 2-3 miles twice a week; she had even tried more extreme measures and nothing worked. "Kendra...? What the fuck?!", she heard half-conscious whining from down the hall as she was undressing, "you know daddy needs his sleep after working graveyards at the warehouse!" "Sorry, Papa.", she shouted back, unable to stop from chuckling a little at accidentally waking him. Unlike her father, Kendra's accent was barely noticeable; she was a third generation Indian-American, but didn't grow up in a tight Indian community, so she never picked up his thick British-Indian vocal patterns. Probably a good thing, as it was one less thing she got teased for growing up; not that Scott Willoughby didn't try... cost him a trip to the ER and her a week suspension. Later on, when her father gently tried to scold her with, "Kendra, you know you aren't supposed to get into fights at school..."; she promptly retorted, "but Papa, its not a fight if its over in one punch", and an eight year old smile that evaporated what little anger he felt. He had a hard time believing its been 10 years already. "Happy birthday, sweetheart, we'll do something tonight when you get back from school." "I thought you worked at the store tonight", she replied. "Are you kidding? I told them it was a family emergency, I wouldn't miss your 18th birthday... my little girl's all grown up." 'If only', she thought to herself as she pulled the curtain closed and started the water. Her father worked two jobs to support them ever since... she wished she could remember her mother, she was so young when it happened and now she can't even recall her face. Did she struggle with her figure too, Kendra wondered. "Why don't we have any pictures of mother, P'pa?", she asked as she turned off the water. There was no answer, he must have fallen back asleep; she would have to ask him again later. . . . School was, well, school... she didn't like or hate it, though she felt quite awkward around most of her peers. She both loved and hated gym; loved that she was pretty good at it, hated the way her body looked as her belly jiggled and the other kids stared. Still, she had a bit of a reputation as someone you did not piss off, so no one dared tease her about it. She had gotten smarter since elementary... instead of getting caught on campus, she'd wait and catch them alone after school. It's been almost two years since anyone was dumb enough to try her, a fact she was quite proud of. Kendra couldn't quite figure out which was more boring, English or Math. Perhaps it was the fact that they required both for 12 years but only taught new material for 3 of them. Perhaps it was her teachers this year, both of them older and way too serious; she actually missed her kooky math teacher from the year before. He was both odd and off-putting until you got to know him, but he had an interesting way of problem solving and would engage the whole class. The possibly eighty year old Mrs. Olguin, on the other hand, well... she couldn't get mad at you for napping in class when she did the same. Or maybe, its the fact that she had both back to back right after gym, while her body still wanted to move. Science classes were always interesting, but that would have to wait till after lunch; for the next hour she'd have to sit through Electronics. Why did she take electronics? Well, with late registration the only electives open were that or Drama... and while she loves being dramatic, the idea of being on stage in front of everyone and looking like she did now- in third grade her school did Charlotte's Web, and she got to be the spider... if they did that in High School, she was pretty sure she'd get the *other* role. Anyway, that's enough drama for now, Kendra thought, as she turned her focus back to this stupid breadboard that wasn't working. She followed the lesson exactly, but she couldn't get power through the circuit... its like something was eating it. No other kid had that problem, but every time she connected a battery it was instantly dead. The professor couldn't figure it out either, so he just wrote "pass" in the gradebook. Though lunch can be a terrible reminder of exactly how outcast one is, it never really phased her, she was a loner anyways and since joining the club she could usually find at least one of her teammates to eat with. That is when they weren't hiding out in some other building or classroom to avoid bullies; of course that's been happening less and less since she joined them- Sheila the Barbarian would never let a squishy mage face the hordes alone! As usual, Kendra spent the first 10 minutes on her phone, looking up all the items on her tray... then ate about half of them and let her fellow party members pick at the rest. Its funny, she didn't really get into role playing at first, but after watching a few sessions she went ahead and made a character. It wasn't the best day to join, frankly, as all the other players had been seriously pissing off Mark, the DM, for the past couple of sessions. The group was already above level 10, so he had her start there; she read the book carefully and thus made "Sheila the Barbarian!" ( the ! is on her sheet, its officially part of her name ) Tired of the party going off the rails, Mark threw a Cave Troll at them, which not only regenerated, but had been blessed by the dark god of the abyss with resistance to all forms of magic. The party was all casters with pretty good DPR, and Mark even expected the new girl to roll a cleric, something the others badly needed. So when she handed him her completed character sheet after he'd already introduced her as arriving just as the fight began, he was quite surprised, but didn't think it would affect the outcome. Mark was actually kind of annoyed that she didn't roll what he asked her to, but whatever, the group is about to wipe anyway. This wasn't his first TPK, in fact he was kind of notorious for it, but as the only Dungeon Master on campus, he could do whatever he wanted and still have plenty of players; where else were these nerds gonna go, the football field? Having rolled initiative with advantage, Sheila went just before the troll. On her first turn she stunned it. On her second she knocked it prone and finished it; the others stared on in disbelief, not least of which being Mark. He tried to argue that it didn't happen, but she pointed out her math and her characters abilities and feats. Ugh, a rule-monger, he thought, alright... I can work with that. "Well, as the troll dies he spasms on the ground, his club knocking loose a keystone in the archway supporting the cavern", he quickly recovered. "Oh, not again", Chuck said, knowing where this was going. "Rocks fall-" "Damn it!", Chris screams. "everyone" "What the HELL, Mark? Crushing damage isn't even in the rules anymore", Tim shouts as he throws down his pencil. "die-" "Not so fast", Kendra announces, "Sheila braces the collapsing roof allowing the others time to escape!" "She can't do that!", Mark objects. Kendra wondered for a second if she had overstepped. But no, like Tim said, there is no insta-kill crushing damage, the DM was clearly writing his own rules. Looking around the table she knew she needed to act, all the other players were ready to quit. "Prove to me why she can't." "Because... its- look, I'm the DM, she can't cause I said so", Mark stammers out, feeling emboldened by his own troll logic. "Oh. Really.", Kendra said as she stalked closer to him, murder in her eyes. She didn't make Sheila to have some asshole tell her she failed and died on her very first adventure. "If you don't like it you can-", Mark suddenly felt the need to swallow mid sentence. "I. Can. What. Mark?", she began reaching for his shirt as he backed into the wall. "Roll... uhm, roll a natural 20 on a strength save with dis-", he felt her eyes burrow into him and paused to correct himself. "...er, I mean, with advantage", he weakly finished. "Okay!", Kendra said with entirely too much enthusiasm. She knew the odds were still terrible, but there was a chance. And as fate would have it, Sheila not only saved the party, but she managed to wedge the ceiling back into place and walk out unscathed. (though she did have to remind him that she also crits on a natural 19) Thus the legend of Sheila was born... and continued until the end of the semester, when Mark started a new campaign. Kendra didn't like leaving her first character behind, but accepted rolling a new hero as part of the game. So began "Captain Lucinda Killjoy", a veteran human fighter with no sense of humor; "Grace, the Amazing", a Psion who specialized in Psychosomatry- able to transform her own body at will; "Lilandra le Morrigan", a Tiefling Warlock who by the end of the campaign had forced a pact with every demon in the nine hells to grant her their infernal might; and her current character "Helga Hammerfist", a Dwarven/Giant Monk with a chip on her shoulder the size of the Lonely Mountain, and a right cross to match it... especially if its a comment about her height. Kendra loved every one of them, and wished she could be like them... more than anything. The bell rang signalling the end of lunch, and Kendra had no idea what Tim had been saying while she was daydreaming about past games. Anyway, she would see him after school for D&D Club. Maybe this school wasn't so bad, she recently learned that it was one of the test schools for Wizard's pilot program (to sell more merchandise through public schools). As she wandered the halls to Physics, she couldn't wait to play Helga again. Class flew by as her thoughts kept wandering back to the game... she vaguely heard something about a quiz. Oh well, she wasn't worried, Kendra always tested well. She'd been giving a lot of thought to LARPing, what she'd seen of it on YouTube looked like fun. "So, the Cat is... Ms Singh?", Mrs. Collins, Kendra's Physics teacher, suddenly inquired noticing her daze. "I've no idea", she replied coming out of her stupor. In truth she didn't quite hear the question. "And if you were paying attention, would you know then?", Mrs. Collins challenged with a playful smile and a raised eyebrow. "Likely not", she confessed. "Correct", the teacher laughed, chalking it up to luck, "until opened there would be no way to know for certain." Just then the bell rang, marking time for the dreaded history exam. It wasn't that she didn't know the material, its that she knew the US History book was full of omissions (was that an oxymoron?) and half-truths. There was what she was expected to put in the blanks, and what she knew from documentaries she had watched on Netflix. The book expects her to say the A-Bomb ended WWII, not the looming Russian threat approaching from the Northwest, and certainly not that the bomb wasn't necessary at all and had absolutely no effect on the war or surrender; what's more, should she feel the need to mention the war being primarily against CIVILIAN TARGETS and population centers, it would likely result in another trip to the Dean's office. God forbid anyone mention the US Government and War-crimes in the same sentence. (The school considered themselves above Principals, therefore they had Deans... they may also have thought themselves above Principles, given their refusal to acknowledge the errors in the textbooks and desire to make problems go away without open debate.) In the end, she gave them the answers THEY wanted, but she felt dirty as she handed in the test and left early for her next class. Health class went quickly, though Kendra did pick up another few ideas for nutrition; clearly cutting calories wasn't doing a damned thing for her except making her moody. (er, more moody... downright crotchety heading fast toward surly with an option on ornery) And, at last it was Club-time. Helga Hammerfist rides again! NEXT: CHAPTER 02 >

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