#even then she’d be knocking those bars off and climbing out the window

[ellie-e-marcovitz]

Six: Calm before...

prev.

He exited the Defence classroom, again feeling a touch aimless. Professor Weasley had wanted to see him after classes… But he had not a clue as to where the main Transfiguration classroom was in relation to where he was now.

Fishing out the Field Guide, it seemed Professor Weasley was of the same mind. There was a message from her.

I see that you’re done with classes for today, and I am currently in-between mine. Come and see me as soon as you can. – M. Weasley.

Below was a set of brief instructions to the Transfiguration classroom, which he tapped. A miniature map appeared, and he followed it the best he could. Barring the door jamming on him, he made good time.

He even found another floo flame, tucked next to the door into the courtyard area.

Crossing the Transfiguration Courtyard, he admired the serenity of the space almost in the middle of the castle. A good place to study, no doubt.

The Transfiguration classroom was just off the courtyard, tucked away in a far corner. The door seemed wholly unremarkable, as he climbed the steps to it.

He knocked twice, before pushing open the door. Professor Weasley’s voice floated out, as he entered.

“…was thinking the same thing, Deek. Perhaps you could –?”

It was a large room, light flooding in from the windows at the front. He could hardly take the whole room in, or knew where to look.

“Oh, excuse Deek,” came another voice, before a pop echoed through the room, and he approached professor Weasley.

“Ah! There you are.” She came and stood in front of him, a kind smile on her face. “I trust your first day of classes went well?”

“They… did, professor.” He wondered if she’d meant his first classes, but shrugged it off.

“I heard as much from both professors Hecat and Ronen,” Professor Weasley agreed. “It seems Professor Fig has taught you quite a bit before you arrived. I’d wager good Galleons that there’s a good deal more to your travels here than what you’ve told me – isn’t there?”

He gulped. He really didn’t feel comfortable lying to Professor Weasley, considering all she’d done to have his first day here go so smoothly. But if the headmaster found out…

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Professor, but there’s nothing more.”

“I see.” There was an implacability to her voice, as if she’d resigned herself to a long wait. “Like trying to get a sonnet from a Streeler.”

He was left a little confused by that. He’d have to look that up later.

“Regardless,” Professor Weasley continued, “you must continue to build upon what you’ve learned. In that regard, I have asked your professors to help hasten your progress with some extra assignments.”

“I do remember Professor Ronen mentioned something about that,” he told her. “About an assignment after reading my summer charms essay. As did Professor Hecat.”

“In fact, Professor Ronen will meet you outside, in the courtyard, when you’re done here. He will assign you your first one then. Now,” she switched topics. “About that trip to Hogsmeade I mentioned earlier… We have arranged for you to replace the supplies that you lost on your way here – including seeds, potions recipes and spellcrafts.”

He nodded. Those had been in the smaller trunk that had been destroyed by the dragon. “Thank you, Professor.”

“And Mr. Ollivander will connect you with the perfect wand.” Professor Weasley gestured to the borrowed wand he was currently using. “You’ve been managing well with a borrowed wand, but I think you will find that the magic you cast with your own to be far superior.”

He agreed with that, but felt anything new here wouldn’t compare to his original wand.

A question bubbled up in mind, one re-emerging from when he’d originally gathered his supplies. “I’ve been wanting to ask this, professor, but what’s a spellcraft? I’d never heard of one until arriving here.”

He honestly felt like an oblivious idiot at times, despite arriving in Britain two? years ago.

Professor Weasley gave an understanding smile. “A spellcraft is like a recipe, of sorts, and is used when conjuring objects. I shall certainly explain more when it comes to you beginning to work with Transfiguration magic.”

He nodded. “And you mentioned Mr. Ollivander… Is there an Ollivander’s in Hogsmeade? I remember the one in London, sort of, but…”

“There is,” Professor Weasley confirmed. “Most are familiar with the shop in Diagon Alley, currently manned by the eldest Ollivander son. But we’re fortunate to have Mr. Ollivander nearby. He is a genuinely skilled craftsman and a highly skilled wandmaker. I would trust no one else to pair me with a wand.”

He nodded, excitement building. “I’m eager to get to Hogsmeade.”

Professor Weasley laughed a little. “Very well. I’d like for you to make your first visit there with a classmate. Someone who can help you get your bearings. Perhaps either Sebastian Sallow or Natsai Onai? I’ve heard and noticed you spending some time with both?”

He internally snorted. The most he’d done was talk with Sebastian, in the Defence classroom.

“I’d like to go with Natty. I’ve enjoyed her company.”

Professor Weasley grinned. “Excellent choice. Miss Onai is one of our most talented students, and she does know the area. She’ll keep you well clear of Victor Rookwood and his undesirables en route to the village.”

“Rookwood?” he asked, the name nagging at him.

“A rather unsavoury local.” Professor Weasley’s expression was of dislike. “Best to avoid him and his associates – including, his right-hand of sorts, one Theophilus Harlow – if you can.”

He nodded. There was a good reason if Professor Weasley was giving him a heads up.

“Once you’ve finished Professor Ronen’s assignment, Miss Onai will meet you at the main castle doors as soon as she can.”

Further nodding, though he felt a bit confused as to which were the main castle doors. There were plenty of them, even from a brief glimpse of the map.

“No time to waste. The sooner you complete your work, the sooner you can enjoy a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.” A piece of parchment fluttered down on Professor Weasley’s desk, folding itself into what looked like a crane. “Ah, it seems Professor Ronen is ready for you in the courtyard, Mr. Northrup.”

She gestured towards the door, a clear but polite dismissal.

“Thank you, again, Professor,” he said, before hurrying out. Part of him wanted to explore the classroom further, another was wanting to escape to the castle grounds.

He opted for learning what Professor Ronen had planned. Anything that could get him exploring, he leaned towards.

Exiting, he spotted Professor Ronen over by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, causing parchment folded into similar figures as the crane to float around him.

“Ah, there you are!” Professor Ronen greeted, as he reached the fountain.

“You have a new spell to teach me, Professor?”

“Indeed I do. An exceptionally useful one at that – the Mending charm, Reparo. Fixes things right up, and makes a broken object good as new, in the blink of an eye.”

He had vague memories of either Gwyneth or Kendal practicing that over the summer holidays, while Professor Fig was testing his abilities. “It certainly seems as if it could come in hand- well, be useful.”

“Indeed. And more frequently than one might expect, or imagine.” Professor Ronen grinned. “Now, Professor Weasley mentioned, I am not the only one who will be teaching you spells outside of your classes, in an effort to catch you up with your peers. A number of your professors have agreed to do so as well.”

He suspected that there had been a teacher meeting about this.

“But first, each will ask that you first complete a few preliminary tasks, so as to hone your magic.”

He wondered what they all had planned. “Might I ask why?”

“No lesson or lecture can compare to first-hand experience with the magic itself, and these tasks should provide you with just that. Such experience is invaluable when mastering any new bit of magic.” Professor Ronen grinned. “I have arranged a couple for today. See them through, and then report back to me here. We will have you casting Reparo in no time!”

He pulled one of the parchment cranes that were floating above him, unfolding it from the shape. “Your tasks.” He held the sheet.

He took it, not sure what to expect. “I’ll start on the task right away, Professor.”

“Good. And remember your Field Guide. It might be useful.” A quick wink, before Ronen set the cranes in motion again.

Opening his Field Guide, he stuck the bit of parchment inside, the short list appearing, complete with a mini map. Two spots were coloured purple. One was right in front of him, just past the benches.

 The other, right in the centre of the Defence tower.

He decided to first grab the one by the statue and then head into the defence tower.

Entering, he noticed it was a nice alcove, overlooking water. This is the right area, he thought looking around. I wonder where the flying page is…

He looked around, craning his neck as he saw the briefest glances of the page he was looking for. At least twice he spotted it, but reacted just a little too slow, his spellwork glancing off the ceiling or the statue to the far left of his position.

The flapping page seemed to taunt him. So, he refocused his attention. Third time’s the charm, after all… “Accio!”

“Got it!” he cheered, largely to himself, as it was returned to his Field Guide. One down, one to go. He glanced over at the statue to his left. There was something about it… so of course he had to investigate it.

He noticed a feather stamped in the middle of the base. Maybe… if he tried Levioso… “Levioso!” he aimed the charm at the sphere, which caused the statue to turn into a field guide page… or part of one, at least… It appeared to be a fragment on the inventor of Levioso and his life.

He stuck in his field guide, before turning his attention back to Professor Ronen’s task.

Entering the Defence tower, he looked around. A flying page must be around here somewhere… he wondered, taking in the high ceilings and artwork that decorated the area. A fluttering of paper caught his ear, and he headed up, pausing at an intersection of stairs.

He readied his wand, looking around for the sheet in question. The music from somewhere in the tower wasn’t helping him much.

It took another few tries, the first two glancing blows with nearby columns, before he managed to nab it, a few feet from his face.

Both pages gathered, he made his way back to Professor Ronen.

“Ah, there you are!” Professor Ronen greeted. “I trust the preliminary tasks weren’t too much trouble?”

He shook his head. “No, professor.”

“Marvellous,” Ronen grinned. “You clearly know your way around basic charms, so let’s give the old mending charm a try, then. Shall we? Wand out!”

He pulled the borrowed wand out, eager to learn this particular one. Kendal had been driving him spare, practicing it constantly over the course of this past summer.

“Now, remember to be deliberate in your enunciation and your movements – I want to see some vigour!” Professor Ronen held out his own wand. “Follow my wrist movement.”

He followed Professor Ronen’s swirling movement, before copying it the best he could.

“That’s it! Very good, Mr. Northrup. You are indeed a quick learner.” Professor Ronen seemed delighted at his quick uptake. “Now, if you would like to practice mending something, have a go at the statue in the alcove by the water.” He pointed towards the area where he found one of the pages.

“It allegedly symbolised heartbreak, so perhaps a jilted lover thought it too accurate and lashed out, destroying it.” Professor Ronen had a contemplative expression on his face, which seemed unusual. “That will be all for now. Enjoy your time in Hogsmeade.”

He nodded. “Of course. Thank you, professor.”

Returning to the alcove, he took in its surroundings. It was peaceful, even with the jarring lump of rock that was supposed to be a statue.

“Reparo!” he called out, feeling a rush of magic around him. Little bits of stone seemed to return to the building around him, but nothing happened with the former statue.

He tried several more times, each basically going the same way, and even throwing a Revelio in for good measure. But nothing happened. For all he knew, he’d fixed several cracks and breaks in the process.

But not that statue. He couldn’t even find the remaining pieces. Part of him suspected that they’d been thrown in this part of the lake.

He decided to try again later, maybe after eating something. Little did he know what was about to happen.

Heading back into Central Hall, he figured he’d kill some time before he heard from Natty. Reaching the central fountain, he spotted a Hufflepuff studying an interesting frame that didn’t seem to have a picture in it.

“Erm... hello?” he greeted cautiously. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m…”

He was bluntly interrupted by a very familiar figure, also wearing Hufflepuff robes and a look of utter shock. “Cyrus!? Is that you!?” she asked, before sprinting up the steps and throwing herself at him in a massive, rib cracking hug. “Oh my gods, you’re alright!”

“Hello Kendal,” he gasped. She hugged him again, before loosening her grasp and facing the other Hufflepuff.

“Lenora, my brother Cyrus. Cyrus, Lenora Everleigh.” She introduced them, and he politely shook hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lenora.”

“You as well. Pardon me if I seem a little distracted at the moment, but it’s this painting. Most everyone in the common room thinks I’m utterly barmy. Samantha Dale thinks I’m potty,” she scowled, gesturing towards the painting. “But I’ve never noticed this painting before now!”

Kendal seemed just as curious, before glancing at him. “Hmm… Neither have I…”

Lenora continued. “If I know Hogwarts, and I do, an empty frame just doesn’t appear without a reason. There has to be more to this.”

“Are there other empty paintings like this around the school?” he asked, his curiosity growing.

Lenora nodded. “Yes, a few. To be honest, this place is something of a riddle. I think, if I can work out the riddle of this particular one, I’ll know how to work out all the others. As good a place as any to begin.”

He and Kendal shared another look. “I noticed you studying one near the common room this morning,” Kendal noted, picking up his trail. “Have you picked up any new insights since then?”

Lenora nodded, clearly more at ease with his sister. “I did. Lumos has an effect of some kind, but I’m not sure what I need to do next.”

A stray thought crossed his mind and snorted. Perhaps a way to practice Lumos…? It wasn’t out of the question. “I’ll certainly look into it, Lenora. It could be intriguing.”

Kendal gave him a funny look, which he ignored. He’d try and explain it to her later.

Lenora sighed. “Well, I’ve been wracking my brains long enough. Maybe you’ll have better success than I have, I hope. Do come and find me if you find anything.”

He nodded, before Lenora headed off. Kendal’s expression grew annoyed. “Cyrus, what exactly is going on?”

He fidgeted with the strap of his bookbag, before pulling her over by the stairs and pulling out the field guide. “Professor Weasley gave this to me this morning,” he started, holding the book up to his sister. “I think that the portrait is meant to help me with Lumos.”

She looked at him as if he’d grown three heads and a tail. “How -?”

He shrugged. “I’m… I’m not entirely sure. But for some reason, I’m stuck in fifth year and I’m having to catch up on things I might have missed at Ilvermorny. Y’know, between all the fights and detentions.”

Kendal’s expression turned to disbelief, leaning back against the stone wall, clearly fighting her laughter. “Oh, wow. That’s – that’s insane, Cyrus.”

He nodded in agreement. “I might have also stumbled onto some answers to what caused this whole mess in the first place. Maybe. So don’t breathe a word of it.”

She nodded, miming buttoning her lips, clearly shocked. He hoped she’d keep that promise.

They headed back over to the blank portrait, and he tried Lumos. Which revealed a location, and one he kind of recognised. Kendal gasped, before tugging on his sleeve.

“This way…” she muttered, before tugging him back the way he’d come in. He followed her, Accio’ing another of the pages as they crossed back. He even managed to read a little bit, something about Godric’s Hollow.

Kendal darted down the stairs, before hurrying off to the left. He followed as close as possible, still getting used to the large castle. In-between the stairs and rather large statue, sat a jewelled moth, languidly flapping its wings.

“Lumos,” he muttered. His wand tip flared, and the moth darted to it, fluttering around the bright light. They stared it for a moment, clearly awed. “Back to the portrait then.”

It felt a little like when they were younger, following each other around the farm.

Reaching the portrait frame, he noticed the indentation on the front, just the right size for the moth currently circling his wand. He froze. How was he to turn it off?

“Nox,” Kendal said, extinguishing the light, and allowing the moth to settle into the indent. In a whirl of tinier moths, the portrait vanished, leaving behind a field guide page. It looked to be about whomever invented Lumos, or possibly a history on it.

Kendal looked at her watch and cursed. “Oh damn, I’m almost late for Transfiguration. Sorry, Cyrus. I’ve got to go. See you at dinner?”

Before he could reply, she hurried off. “Just tell Professor Weasley you were talking with me!” he shouted after her, before sighing.

He wandered back over to where they’d found the moth and looked around. A quick cast of Revelio revealed another field guide page and a Floo Flame point, marked for potions. He glanced at his field guide, unsure of where to go next.

There was the duelling club… or talking to Lenora, if only to let her know what they’d found.

Might as well. She wasn’t too far from his current position. Hurrying up the stairs, he spotted her overlooking Central Hall, reading a book.

“Lenora! I solved the painting!” he enthused, approaching her. She startled, turning to face him.

“You did?! How?”

“I followed the clues you mentioned, using Lumos. Kendal knew the location the portrait was showing, and we found a jewelled moth that I used Lumos to guide back to the frame.”

Lenora sighed. “All very logical, I suppose. It’s a pity - I was so close to solving it.” She pouted a moment, before resolving her composure. “You, and Kendal it seems, have a knack for solving riddles. Natty’s good at it too, so is Amit. Though he does tend to overexplain.”

She gave a tight grin. “Well, I’m glad someone’s figured it out at least. Here,” she held out a shrunken bit of fabric. “You might appreciate having this.”

He took it, not entirely sure what it was. “Erm, thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” she replied genuinely. “See you around, Cyrus.” Lenora walked off, muttering, “The moth! Of course, I should’ve seen that…”

He stuffed the fabric in his bag, unsure of what to do with it. He grabbed another field guide page, long range and set the map for the duelling club.

It was a dizzying path through the castle. Up one way, down another. He found the staircase leading up to the Ravenclaw common room, along with the adjacent floo point.

He summoned a page fluttering around the main staircase, before passing the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room. He even travelled through a corridor filled with portraits of musicians, all playing their instruments.

It had something of a medieval festival feel to it and he stopped to soak it all in.

Entering the clock tower, another Floo Flame lit up and he spotted Sebastian, leaning against the wrought iron, nearby.

“Glad you could make it,” Sebastian grinned. “Lucan’s just over there.” The Slytherin gestured, almost lazily, towards the area behind him.

He nodded, acknowledging the words, his focus more on the familiar statue in front of him. “Levioso,” he muttered, revealing another field guide page, this time a whole one. Sticking it into his field guide, he entered the clocktower proper.

Looking around, there were a handful of students just hanging out, in between classes, or on their free period.

Which made the appearance of the youngest person there all the more interesting.

“Can I help you?” the younger student asked, as he approached, clearly not recognising him.

“Are you Lucan Brattleby?” he asked.

“I am. And you are-?”

“Cyrus Northrup. Sebastian told me to see you about a club…?”

Lucan’s face cleared at that. “If Sebastian vouches for you, that’s all I need to know,” he noted happily. “I’m the one who coordinates the duels for Crossed Wands. It’s a duelling club, of sorts. It’s also invitation only, so you must have really impressed Sebastian, one way or another.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I guess I’m flattered to hear that. Sebastian’s not a bad duellist either.”

Lucan seemed impressed. “Imagine it’s quite something to see the two of you duel. Heard from Hecat about your duel in her class.”

Explained a lot. Eyebrow still raised, he asked, “How… does Crossed Wands work, exactly?”

“You show up,” Lucan explained, “I match with other duellists and whoever is still standing in the end, wins.” A shrug of shoulders. “It’s our way of determining the school’s greatest duellists, once and for all.”

Sounded straightforward enough, and not unlike the duelling club at Ilvermorny, before he’d switched to Quodpot.

Lucan wasn’t entirely finished. “And, to liven things up, the winner is awarded a prize. Interested?”

It was certainly intriguing. “Certainly. Duelling can be an entertaining pastime.” He felt like he was lying a little through his teeth, but it could be useful, for the practice.

“I agree,” Lucan’s enthusiasm grew. “Besides, you can duel with a partner in Crossed Wands, if you like. I’ll pair you with Sebastian for your first time. Next time, you’ll need to bring a partner or duel alone.”

“Good to know,” he noted, filing that away. “Thank you, Lucan.”

“Anytime. So, care to step into the ring for the first time?”

He nodded. “Get me in.”

“All right!” Lucan cheered, as bouncy as the toy ball he’d been playing with. “You and Sebastian will be to the right of the pendulum. Let the fireworks begin!”

He headed over to the area Lucan had indicated, setting his bag off to the side, along with his school robe. Sebastian joined him, as two other students approached. One, the Gryffindor, looked no older than Lucan; and the Ravenclaw seemed about his age.

“Astoria Crickett and Lawrence Davies” Sebastian muttered under his breath as introduction. Astoria seemed to have a particularly nasty expression on her face.

“We’ll make you regret it,” she snarled, and he regarded her coolly. No need to rise…

Both Astoria and Lawrence raised shield charms, both tinged with the yellowish hue he’d seen earlier.

Sebastian decided to use a different spell. “Confringo!” he shouted, leaving a divot in the flagstone. He managed to dodge the worst of the debris, before firing his own spell into the fray.

The spells flew thick and fast, him mainly running defence, deflecting several Expulsos and even a rogue Confringo. Somehow, he managed to get through largely unscathed, maybe the odd bruise.

Lucan came over, grinning widely. “Nice work!” he congratulated. “Sebastian wasn’t wrong about you.”

“Thank you again, Lucan.”

“There’s strong competition ahead, but keep this up, and who knows? You could be the next school champion.”

“There is that. You can certainly count me in.”

“I shall.” Lucan’s grin threatened to split his face in half, before becoming somewhat serious. “Now, it does take time to organise these duels, but check with me in a few days. I may have something lined up for you then.”

He nodded in understanding. It probably took quite a bit of effort to stay ahead of the teachers.

“Again, congratulations on your first Crossed Wands victory,” Lucan finished, as the bells tolled above them. “Well-fought. Hope to see you back here.”

He gathered his bag, and found a message from Natty in his Field Guide.

Out of class, and I received Professor Weasley’s message. Ready to go to Hogsmeade? – N.

He grinned at the message. Now, all he had to do was find her.

Exiting the clock tower, he passed Lawrence Davies, nose in one defence textbook or another. “Just wait till I’ve grown a bit,” came the younger Gryffindor. “Then we’ll see how well you do.”

He entered the castle, still not entirely sure where to go. Casting a quick Revelio, he found two more pages, before deciding to explore the castle a little more.

It wasn’t helped by a mounting feeling of anxiety about the trip to Hogsmeade, for a reason he couldn’t explain, even if he wanted an explanation.

Dodging Peeves coming out of the nearby bathroom, he went through an unfamiliar corridor to try and avoid the mischievous poltergeist, before he too was caught up in the chaotic whirlwind. All he wanted was to see Hogsmeade and get what he was missing.

Ending up back in the Defence tower again, he pulled out the field guide, not sure if he was heading in right direction. The mini map had reappeared, pointing him back towards Central Hall.

Entering, it seemed he needed to dodge most of the student body as he crossed, as it seemed busier than before. The map pointed him to an area past the entrance to the Greenhouses, which seemed far quieter.

He stuffed his field guide into his bag, as he entered the Bell Tower area, and spotted Natty waiting near the doors. Hurrying down the stairs, he then spotted Eleanor waiting there as well.

She waved, clearly ready for an adventure.

“Looking for me?” Natty teased, as he approached, and he grinned.

“It’s good to see you, Natty. Eleanor. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Natty shook her head. “Not at all. I take it will be okay if Eleanor joins us in Hogsmeade? She mentioned wanting to join us.”

“I don’t have a problem with her joining us.”

“Good,” Eleanor grinned. “I wasn’t planning on asking twice.”

“You must be eager to have your things again,” Natty noted, breaking the moment. “And to be able to see the village.”

He nodded. “I certainly am. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Natty shared a look with Eleanor, who seemed troubled. “Shall we set off? I believe we both intend to give you a first-rate Hogsmeade experience.”

He gestured forward. “We shall. After you.”

Chapter 7

#fic #A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #chapter 6 #cyrus northrup #hogwarts legacy

[extremelyblackandwhite]

dress

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, smut, age gap, angst, blackmailing 

a/n: the reader is at least 10 years younger than lee. if that upsets you, please don’t read this work. additionally, i based reader’s 60′s style mostly out of  that oufit margot robbie wore for once upon a time in hollywood and megan from mad men, you can see my inspiration outfits here [x] [x] hope you enjoy it xx

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk. Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you ...

The rain fell harshly and unkindly on the pavement for the fifth day in a row, the sun having forsaken the forgotten hellish town that was Knockemstiff, Ohio. Few could say the name and ever fewer dared to enter the town. Even God’s afraid of it, his mother would tell him after nursing what felt like another one of her endless bottles of liquor. It was a haunted town, not a lot left and those who did never crossed paths with it again. Murder and crime were all time highs but not even the government dared to come in and try to to anything which meant any police force in the town were like gods, deciding who lived and who didn’t. One of those god-like men was Lee Bodecker, however he preferred you called him Sheriff Lee Bodecker.  He was a chubby man in his early thirties, tall but the beer belly made him hunch making him look shorter than he was. He had once been the envy of the town, one of the most handsome men of the town but years of living in Knockemstiff wear down everyone. His own poison had been alcohol which had ended up with him in therapy with his wife and with a therapist who had told him to curb the craving of alcohol with sweets instead. It had little to nothing as he still drank like his life depended on it and tonight was no different from other nights. He took off his hat as he entered the local bar in town, the only bar in town, and everyone looked his way, silence installing the ever noisy bar. He liked it, Lee liked it. He knew he was not the handsome one, in fact his look made him quite funny so he made himself scary. Lee made sure that everyone who looked his way, heard his voice or saw his shadow was afraid of him. It definitely worked as once he sat on the bar stool, there was already a glass with 5 fingers of his favourite drink. 

Everything was silence except for the mumbling of men discussing their days until suddenly the mumbling was no longer about the hell that was living in Knockemstiff. He turned around in his chair and understood why the men were suddenly so interested. There she was, dressed in a high neck black shirt which stood over a white skirt. Matching go go boots left her legs bare, something women in Knockemstiff did not do, still stuck in decades of last. She wasn’t from around and everyone knew it merely by the way she dressed but Sheriff Bodecker knew different. Men watched like dogs as she made her way to the bar, to his side. 

     - Y/N. - he greeted her. - What are you doing here? Trying to disrupt the town?

     - My grandmother died.

     - I heard. My condolences.

     - She left me all of what was hers including the house so I’m here to sell it. 

     - The one in Brewer Heights? - she nodded. - Tis a nice house, but I don’t think anyone here would have enough to buy it.

     - I’ll decide that. - she held the glass the bartender in between her hands, her eyes roaming over to his hands were his wedding ring had started to become tight around his finger. - Still with Jane?

     - Why wouldn’t I be? - he cocked an eyebrow at her. - What are you doing here, Y/N?

    - I told you, I’m here to sell ...

    - No. - he interrupted. - Why are you here, at the bar? What do you want?

    - Nothing ...  I see you’re not in the mood to help me anyways. - she got up from the stool she had sat on, straightening her skirt as her feet hit the floor. - Good evening, Sheriff Bodecker. 

He was sat, watching her leave but also giving an aura to the men who too watched the modern girl exit the building not to get any ideas. Lee knew these men, they were like dogs and once a suitable amount of time passed, he took to returning to his cruiser and follow her. How could he trust this town with her, an outsider? Y/N had been brought up in Knockemstiff, the daughter of store owners who had both been killed in an assault gone wrong. After that, she was ushered to live with her grandmother, the last of socialites in Knockemstiff. Rumours said her grandmother had moved from New York to wed with a penniless man already expecting once she wore her wedding gown. Rumours or not, she still held much more money than anyone in the town together and she wasted not a cent in her granddaughter’s education, moving to a more upscale house in Brewer Heights once she got her under her care. She was always the one with everything and Lee remembered seeing her while still an officer driving around a brand new glossy red car, hair loose through the wind. In all honesty, he thought her never too leave town but as she reached her tender 21st year of life, she left leaving everything behind. 

He parked outside her grandmother’s home, stopping just a bit away from it looking at the house that was so eerily sketched in his mind. He leaned against his seat watching Brewer Heights, the place he so wanted to have lived in his youth. Of course he now owned a place there too but it was faint, fickle. If he were to not be sheriff anymore all would shatter. He would do everything he could to keep his position. He deserved it, he deserved it more than any damned soul on this planet. A knock on the glass removed him from his mind state as he looked the way of his window to see her. 

     - Can I come in? - she asked, eyes lingering on the passenger seat. He stretched over to the side, opening the door for her but not exiting the car. She entered, closing the door as she sat on the seat. - I’ve always hated when you were mad at me. 

     - I’m not mad.

     - You have no reason to be. I know what you’re mad about and it’s your own fault, you know that.

     - Is it my fault you left? - his hands tightened against the wheel of his cruiser, anger coursing through his veins. Lee never liked to hear the truth.

    - She knew, Lee and she was right ... If anyone knew, if the town knew I would’ve been ruined and I didn’t deserve that. You must understand I didn’t deserve that. 

    - I didn’t deserve you leaving without saying a fucking thing now did I, darl’?

    - You were married. - she almost spat the words in his face. - You are married, Lee. Now you can be mad at me all you want, you can hate me for all I give a damn but I was not gonna destroy myself for your happiness, and I will certainly not allow you to destroy yourself for lust. 

    - Y/N ...

    - I don’t need your help anymore and I would enjoy it if you parked your cruiser away from my house. I wouldn’t want any rumours about your infidelities to resurface. - she exited the car and climbed the small incline of grass up to her home. Lee still remembered seeing her in a little white dresses her grandmother would buy for her, climbing that incline while holding the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up. She seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

Lee had met Y/N when she volunteered at the station back when he was still a patrol officer. She did the duties of every single secretary plus cleaning which was what she had volunteered for. It’ll be good for my university application, she told him when Lee asked what she was doing there. She started at 17 and remained there until she was 18 and ready to leave and become something other than a Knockemstiff resident. However, her mother having sudden heart attack ruined her plans and she decided to stay to take care of her. Lee didn’t see her for two whole years until she was 20 years old and he spotted her at the supermarket getting an earful from Mr. Collins about dropping a bottle of olive oil while trying to reach something from the higher shelf. Lee didn’t like it, he didn’t like Mr. Collins berating her for a simple mistake so he stepped in. He remembered her thanking him before reintroducing herself to him. 

He wasn’t one to be swayed by women, he’d married his Jane when he was fresh out of high school and while his relationship was more than stale, he had his mind on work and alcohol. Sure he could’ve divorced, found someone else but he wasn’t the teenager he used to be anymore, he was hardly someone who women would be attracted to besides a single man for a Sheriff? That surely wasn’t gonna happen. Yet, he couldn’t help but be entranced by her, fresh into adulthood with a mind full of ideas about what she wanted to do. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to start a relationship with her, to start an affair yet he couldn’t say he regret it. He didn’t regret the nights where she’d meet him in the woods, covered by a black trench coat. He could still feel his, his hands against her back, feeling the fabric of her undergarments as the windows fogged. 

Y/N was upset. Her friends had told her she better not expect the man who she had left without any notice to help her but she was upset. What choice did she have? After her grandmother heard about it, it would’ve taken no time for everyone in town to hear about it and she would’ve been a disgrace and Lee would’ve certain not become Sheriff. Nevertheless she was upset. Instead, she asked an old friend from school, Billy. It was no surprise he was here, nobody left, nobody ever left. She had left but yet here she was once again, 4 years later wondering about an affair which shouldn’t have happened. Her grandmother had berated her for ages “you don’t sleep with a married man” and of course she knew she shouldn’t yet she had. She didn’t know better. 

She had boxes and boxes packed with whatever it was left of the house, photo books, clothing, bedding, all of it packed. Once she got to New York she could sort through it but right now all she wanted to was leave. Her friends even offered to come over and do it for her but the damned lawyer said it had to be her. In the morning she waited for Billy in the steps of her home, dressed in one of her old 50′s fashioned white dress, a far cry from the mini skirts she used at home and off he came in the exact same car he had when they were both teens. 

   - Y/N, look at you. - he walked off the car. - You look gorgeous, darl’. 

   - Thank you, Billy. - she scratched the back of her head. - Uhm it’s only 5 big boxes. I’ll pay for the gas if you help me take them to post office. 

   - You’re not keeping the house?

   - And live in Knockemstiff? - she rolled her eyes, climbing up the stairs to grab the boxes from the front of the door. The boy helped her pack the car before the two hopped onto the car. - So, how’s the town been?

   - Nothing changes. Mr. Collins died, no one was upset about it and that Bodecker guy became Sheriff. - he light up a cigarette as he turned on the engine. - It’s still as boring as its been and people mostly gossip around the same old gossip.

   - What’s new in gossip?

   - Eleanor still says you and Bodecker were fucking. - he chuckled. - As if ... I mean, look at you, you were prom queen and he’s a fat bastard. 

    - You should watch your mouth, Billy. He’s the sheriff. 

    - Because he bought it. - he shrugged. - Dad says he’s pretty much doing everyone’s dirty work. I mean his sister and her husband disappeared and were found dead. 

    -  I don’t really care for that type of gossip. - she leaned against the seat, watching the trees pass by. It wasn’t that she and Billy were good friends but she needed help and she’d rather die than go beg Lee to help her out. She had tried and it’d failed. Besides what was the worse that could happen?

The worse that could happen became very clear as instead of driving into town he took a left into the woods. She rose her head from the seat as all the ways one could reach town rushed through her mind. This definitely wasn’t one of them, it was hard to even get to the town through the woods. She knew that because, well ... it was where she would meet Lee to ensure no one from town found them. The car came to a stop and Billy got off the car. Maybe he just needed to pee or to get some air. She waited til he was on his back to open the car door and start running but he rushed after her, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the ground before standing over her, hands holding her wrists above her head.

   - Billy, what are you doing? - stay calm, that was what they always taught her, stay calm. 

   - Come on, Y/N. They always wanted us to be together in high school, remember? 

   - I don’t know what you’re talking about. Billy, calm down. 

   - You fucking calm down. I know you want me too, Y/N. You called me, you need my help, darl’. I can make you feel so damn good ... - his mouth lowered down and she started to trash around, trying to get rid of him. 

   - Stop, please stop. - she looked up at the sky, the morning sun barely up as she recalled why you don’t come back to Knockemstiff. You don’t get back because you get stuck. As she convinced herself there was nothing the do, a short was heard through the air. 

  - What the heck are you doing William? - she recognised the voice. She had never been more grateful for that voice. Billy jumped over to his feet.

   - Sheriff ... me and Y/N were just having a bit of fun ... You know, you understand, right?

   - Y/N ... - he looked her way. - What were you doing?

   - It was against my will, Sheriff. - she climbed onto her feet, leaning against a tree at a healthy distance from him.

  - Get the fuck out of here. - the young boy in his mid 20′s rushed out like a child afraid of the dark, forgetting his car and everything he had left behind. Y/N watched him running, tripping onto his legs as Lee fired a warning shot in the air. If this was NY, there would be someone here already but this was Knockemstiff and gun shots were as usual as rain during winter.

He smirked, happy to have once again imposed the authority he so much treasured. Lee never liked Billy, he never liked when he’d drive Y/N home from school even when she was volunteering at the police station. That boy was no good news and always looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Lee still remembered the old Sheriff telling her that boy was no good and looking at her now, dressed in one of her white dresses stained in dirty and green grass stains, he guessed he was right. 

  - Billy, Y/N? Don’t you have other friends?

  - Billy’s the only one with a car. - Y/N mumbled as she grabbed his keys from the floor to take her stuff off his car before he could return. - Thank you but I had it under control.

  - ‘Course you did. - he put his hands on his waist. - Come on, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.

  - I don’t want any favours from you, Sheriff Bodecker. - she held her boxes against her chest. Well, if she started now maybe she could be at the post office with all the boxes at nighttime. - That’ll be all.

  - Y/N, come on. I’m a public server so let me help you.

  - I don’t want your help. - she almost barked at him, taking another box from Billy’s car. Maybe she could drive the car, yet again she knew the captain particularly liked Billy and could fine her if 

  - Fine, can you tell me what you’re doing at least?

  - I’m shipping these boxes to New York. I don’t have time to completely go through them so ...

  - Put them in the cruiser. I’ll take them to the post office and take you home. 

  - I don’t want any favours.

  - It’s not for you, it’s for your grandmother. Now get into the car, please. - he opened the door to her.

Y/N huffed. The last thing she needed was a favour from Lee Bodecker yet in all honesty she had no other choice. She packed her boxes into the truck of his cruiser and sat on the passenger seat, arms crossed as he sat in the driver’s seat. Her mind played tricks on her, reminding her of what they used to do in that driver’s seat of his back when she was younger and full of ideas for the future. She shouldn’t have done it and she knew it, Jane Bodecker wasn’t the best woman but she didn’t deserve having her husband sneaking around with a 20 year old despite her herself having had her fair share of affairs. Not that Lee knew and she wasn’t gonna be the one to tell him about the time she was working late in the station and saw his wife getting busy with a new patrol. She didn’t have that right, after all he was doing the same to her. She shouldn’t have done it, nevertheless. Her grandmother died ashamed of her and now she had to deal with it. 

   - Billy said Sandy died. Is it true? 

   - Yeah, last year.

   - Oh ... I’m sorry, I didn’t know. 

   - She had it coming. That weird husband of hers ended up driving her off the edge. That Arvin kid shot them yet I can’t say they hadn’t it coming ... She was still my baby sister. 

   - I’m sorry, Lee. I’m so sorry ...  - she looked down at her skirt. 

   - Almost got me too ... stupid kid. - he shrugged. - Good thing I was fat enough to stop the bullet, I guess.

   - Well, I’m sorry about Sandy. - she said as she saw her house become clearer through the window. He stopped in front of her home, unlocking the doors so she could walk out. 

Y/N walked out before she could do something stupid. Whatever she did, whatever he had, whenever they were together she always ended up doing something stupid. She sat in the empty house of her childhood, only now containing furniture. She could remember it so well from her years as a child running up and down the stairs, not knowing what awaited her outside the world. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to owe anything to Lee. She knew who he had to answer softly too, she knew those men Billy spoke about. They always ran for Sheriff ever since she was a kid. 

She looked at the clock on the wall, 3PM. She knew exactly where those men would be at that time and so she changed and took her way downtown. Everyone turned their head as she walked into the badly light, old bar in tones of musky green which greatly contrasted with her baby blue short dress. The town had gotten stuck in the 40′s and 50′s, women barely showing their legs or any skin and there she was, a woman born and raised in Knockemstiff dressed like a movie star. The table of three men clearly noticed, the under-sheriff, the division chief and the captain. She stood in front of the round table, taking her sunglasses and setting them on top of her head, a nice, covergirl smile on her pink painted lips. You can get the girl out of Knockemstiff but you can’t get Knockemstiff out of the girl.

    - Hello boys. You mind if I seat with you? - she put her hand on one of the chairs. 

    - Hey, you’re Elizabeth’s granddaughter aren’t you? - Frank, the under-sheriff asked, pulling the chair for her. - I thought you were in New York.

    - I was but I just came here because of my grandma’s inheritance, but I have something to discuss. 

Another night, another day of useless parading around for Lee. He’d pass by the post office and shipped Y/N’s boxes and that had been the highlight of his day. As per usual, he made his way to the bar only to found the environment was slightly different. He knew this town like the back of his hand, anything off always rang alarm bells. As the bartender placed his usual poison in front of him, he decided to get to the bottom of the situation. 

   - Why’s everything so quiet?

   - I don’t know, Sheriff. - the man replied while cleaning glasses. - Elizabeth’s girl was here and I don’t know what she did but Frank, Jonah and Fitzwilliam left as if she were the devil.

Fucking hell. He drowned the last of his drink before grabbing his hat and entering his cruise. Damned Y/N, she used to be such a nice girl before leaving to New York. God, the only complaint he ever got about her was when the mayor complained about her wanting to run a march. He drove to her home like a mad man. What was she doing messing around with those three? He’d seen them do worse things for much less. Lee climbed the grass patch up to her door, knocking on it as if his life depended on it. 

   - Y/N, open up. Right now. - he thumped the door again. - I’ll break in if you don’t answer it!

   - Jesus. - the door opened up to Y/N dressed in what he was almost entirely sure was the shortest dress he had ever seen a woman wear. She stood against the door, hand on the wood while the other on her waist as he entered her home. 

   - Took you long enough. - he stepped into the home which he had never dared to step in.

   - I was upstairs. - she closed the door, locking it behind her for good safety. No one can be trusted in this godforsaken town. - What do you want?

Lee walked further into the house ignoring her question as he shut all the windows of the ground floor, anything that could allow anyone to look inside the house. Last thing he needed was for anyone to see inside the home and start any rumours. Stupid bastards. Y/N followed him around asking the same damn question anytime he shut any window and pulled any drapes down. 

   - Stop touching my stuff. - she put herself in front of him. - What do you want, Lee?

   - What do I want? - he sat against the couch, sighing. - What the fuck did you do, Y/N? Why were you at the bar?

   - I didn’t do anything. - she batted her eyes innocently. 

   - Y/N, I have another election coming up soon. I’ll ask again, what did you do at the bar?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - Y/N, I’ve seen those men kill for less so you tell me now what you did. 

   - Stop ordering me around. - she rolled her eyes at him. - I don’t like owing anyone so now we’re even.

   - We’re even? - he pitched the skin of his nose. - What the fuck, Y/N? 

   - You wanna know what I said? Would that make you feel better? Would that make you feel like you rule this damn town, Lee? - she looked down on him, almost teasing him. Had it been a few years ago she would’ve been under him already. - I helped you out.

   - Y/N ...

   - It’s not just you who was sleeping around with a younger girl. They were sleeping around with friends of mine. The only difference is I have evidence of it ... - she grabbed her purse from the hanger, taking a beige envelope from it and throwing it his way. Lee looked up to her and then to the envelope opening it to see various pictures of girls he knew in compromising positions with his opponents, letters, everything. - They don’t have anything on you because unlike my friends, I don’t keep souvenirs from my affairs. 

  - You blackmailed them? Are you stupid, Y/N? They are going to kill you.

  - Please. - she rolled her eyes at him. - My grandmother owned half this town, if I die everything goes to charity and this town falls apart. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning to stick around for longer. 

  - So what now? You had fun playing femme fatale? You’re bored, is that it?

  - I just won you an election without any competition, Lee. You could be nicer about it. 

  - I don’t need your help. 

  - I don’t need your help either. I was just repaying a favour. - she leaned against the wall. - You can go now. 

   - Did you need to wear that? - he pointed at the dress. - Couldn’t have struck blackmail dressed appropriately?

   - Do you not like my dress? - she looked down, hands grabbing the baby blue fabric as she expanded the flowey skirt. - You know, I bought it for you. I was planning on using it for birthday a few years ago but you know ... had to leave earlier.

   - You bought that dress for me? - he rose from the couch, walking up to her until he had her caged against the wall.

   - I bought it so you could take it off, actually. - Lee must’ve been hallucinating because he swore she was pouting.

She looked up at him with that look she used to give him after a long day at work when he needed something to unwind. Both of them had promised each other not to do anything else when she left, Y/N had told herself no more coming bak and Lee had decided to spend his life content what whatever shred of marriage he had. Yet, she was there in what looked more like lingerie than a dress and he was in uniform, both of them were never good at making good decisions, and this was Knockemstiff. Lee took the first move, leaning down to kiss her like his body dependent on it which in some way he did. She held onto his shoulder, flushing her body against his as his hands started trying to pull the dress away from her body. Baby blue fabric flowed to the ground as he picked her up, throwing her against the couch he had just been sat on. He stopped kissing her to look at her, to look at the body he still dreamed at night or whenever he shut his eyes. She could’ve been gone for 4 years but she sure never left his wildest fantasies. 

  - Lee, wait. - her hands stopped him from returning to kiss her. - Let me treat you, please.

  - Oh sugar, you don’t need to ask. - she got up, walking slowly past him, her matching baby blue undergarments much more racy than what she used to wear back in Knockemstiff. She pushed him against the couch, smirking as she went down on her knees. - What are you doing down there, sugar? It’s more than you can handle. 

  - Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m a big girl. - her hands unbuckled the belt off his trousers, throwing it to the floor followed by his trousers. She peppered kisses over his thighs down to his knees and then to the edge of his underwear. Slowly, she peeled them away, making eye contact with him. The silent girl he had known before was definitely long gone and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Before he could make up his mind, she took him entirely inside inside her mouth. - Fuck, you look fucking flawless with my big cock in your mouth, sugar.

She smiled at his praise, moving her head up and down still at a painfully slow pace, his balls in her hands. Lee pushed his head back, groaning at her motions and thinking it could no get better until she started to move her head faster, his tip reaching the back of her throat, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Instead she moaned against him, the vibrations making him feel like he was on cloud 9. Fuck being sheriff, nothing made him quite higher than having the one who got away with his cock down her throat. He started twitching against her mouth, his hand grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her against his pelvis and starting to control her moves. She kept moaning against him, bringing him over the edge until he just couldn’t hold himself anymore. His grip loosened on her head as his muscles gave up on him.

Y/N got up from her kneeling position, thumb pushing whatever cum had spilled over into her mouth. That image alone made him harden up again like some horny teenage boy. She smiled at him, hands on his shoulders as she sat on his lap. 

   - What do you want me to do, Sheriff? - she batted her eyes at him, leaning down to kiss his ear lobe lowering down to his neck. 

  - You wanna ride my cock, sugar? - he hooked his hand on her nape, pushing her so she was looking at him. - You wanna make up to me for leaving me all alone?

  - Yes, Sheriff. - she lined up and slowly sunk down on him, both of them moaning. 

   - Come on, sugar. Show me what you can do. - she started riding him as if the devil had possessed her. He pushed her lips against his, a sloppy messy kiss which definitely was more lust than anything else as she moved up and down against him.  - Yeah, you like that don’t you, sugar? Tell me you like it, sugar. 

  - It feels so good, Lee. - she leaned against him, her hips still moving as he pulled her bra down, pinching her nipple. - Fuck.

  - You’re never gonna leave me again. - he started thrusting up, moving her from under him so she was laid across the couch. - Promis ... fuck ... promise me, sugar. Promise, you’re not gonna leave.

  - Lee ... - she moaned against the couch’s pillow as he speed up his pace, hands holding her hips and moving them against and away from him. 

  - You’re not gonna leave. - he groaned, feeling the way her walls milked him with such need. - You’re not gonna leave me, sugar. You’re not, right? You’re gonna stay.

   - Lee ... - she cried out before her mouth opened up in a perfect O, her orgasm washing over her. He didn’t take too long to cum, groaning like a wild animal as strings of white painted her walls. He slipped out of her, holding her before turning so she was standing on top of him. - Lee, I can’t stay. You know that, right? 

   - Why not? Things were good when you were around. 

   - I left for a reason, Lee. - she got up from him, grabbing her dress and quickly slipping it on. - And that reason still stands. 

   - Y/N, please listen ...

   - When I was 20 and we started this, I truly believed you were going to divorce your wife. You were going to divorce her and you were gonna marry me and ... and my grandma would’ve been upset but she would’ve learned to deal with it and then she would’ve taken me to the altar. I waited a year to see if I would ever become something other than a mistress and then the elections came around and I understood you were not gonna divorce Jane. You were going to be Sheriff and you’re still going to be Sheriff and maybe sometime Mayor. I’m not gonna be your mistress anymore, Lee.

  - Y/N ...

  - Please, leave. - she wiped whatever tears were threatening to fall off. Lee furrowed his brow, putting on his trousers before trying to approach her but she stopped him, arm raised firmly keeping distance. - Please, leave.

  - Y/N, c’mon. Let’s talk.

  - LEAVE! - she rose her tone at him. Lee wasn’t going to argue with her, it wasn’t his place to argue with her at her own house and so he left. Y/N stayed in the middle of her leaving room, arms crossed until she broke down crying.

She could almost hear her grandmother’s words “there’s no use crying about it” when she told her Lee was running for Sheriff. Funny how even after being dead, the old nag still was as right as she was four years ago. She wiped her tears with her hand and climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, sitting on the bare bed. It was going to be alright, tomorrow she’d be able to sign the rights over to the letting agency and could return to New York. Things were fine there, or at least she wasn’t sleeping with a married man there.

The sun didn’t raise up that morning, rain instead replaced it and so Y/N remained laid in bed watching the rain drop rush down the fogged up windows until a loud thumping on her door forced her to get up. She wrapped herself in her robe and went down the stairs to open the door. 

  - Good morning, miss. - she opened the door to her letting agent. - How are you?

  - I’m alright, Don. I’m sorry, I thought the open house was later. I’ll just get my stuff and leave.

  - No, it’s all right miss. I am just here to tell you that we’ve sold the house was above the price you were asking for.

  - Pardon me?

  - At least two times the asking price. It was such a good price, he had to take it. Paid upfront.

  - What really? Who?

  - He should be coming to see the place in an hour. - he said. - We’ll bring you the check later on. 

  - All right. Thank you Don.

That was good news at least she got to leave Knockemstiff before anything else happened. She didn’t know what had overcome her to decide to have sex with Lee. Pull yourself together Y/N, you’ve had four years to learn how to deal with it. It was fine, it was going to be fine. She packed whatever was left of her stuff into her small patched up luggage and put it by the door. She just needed to wait for Don to bring her check back and she could go on back to New York, where her mistakes only included putting coloured clothes with whites and then having pink clothes for the rest of her life. A knock on the door made that decision come much faster. Okay, Y/N. Get the check and go.

  - Lee? - she opened the door to see the least person she wanted to see. - Go away, I’m expecting someone.

  - I know. - he walked in as if the house was his. - You’re expecting me.

  - This is not funny, Lee. Don should be bringing my check anytime and the owner will be here in an hour.

  - Yeah, I’m sorry I’m early.

  - Pardon? - she rose her eyebrows at his statement. - What do you mean?

  - It’s my house now. I was thinking of upgrading, ya know? This house is the best one in Brewer Heights after all.

  - Are you fucking kidding me, Lee?! - she stood in front of him before he could walk further into her home. - You’re bringing your wife into my childhood home? YOU’RE BRINGING YOUR WIFE TO YOUR MISTRESS’S HOME?!

  - How many bedrooms is this house? They said they thought it was over five in the contract. 

  - You have a perfectly good house. Why do you want mine?

  - Mine is too small. Only one bedroom, I’d have no place to build a nursery.

  - A nursery? You and your wife are having a baby? In my childhood home ... how swell. 

  - You know I’m thinking about running for mayor. I mean, it’d look good if I had a family.

  - Good luck convincing Jane. - she gave him a cynical smile. 

  - I don’t have to convince Jane. I’d have to convince you. 

  - Me? Fuck off, Lee. I’m not having a baby for you and your wife. Fuck off. 

  - We’re a good team, Y/N. Besides, Jane is no longer in the picture.

  - Lee ... - she sighed. - Please.

  - You see, my wife isn’t as good as me at keeping her infidelities casual. The other candidates have caught wind of it ... I need someone who’s almost as good at blackmail as me.

  - I’m better at blackmail than you. - she crossed her arms at him.

  - So what do you say, sugar? Want to be the sheriff’s wife?

  - Do you promise I’ll get to be the mayor’s wife someday? 

  - With you on my team, I think you’re gonna be the mayor’s wife sooner than you think.

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[lumosinlove]

Previously On Relic Keel:

Remus, Saint, Sirius, Leo, and Logan have woken Luke in the dead of night and convinced in to take them into his father’s study to look for the treasure map he had supposedly taken out on loan before he was sent to jail. They explain to Luke what they need, but Luke has no knowledge of it. Tensions are high when Saint finds a hidden safe behind a frame and opens it to reveal an envelope addressed to Luke in his father’s handwriting. They only get higher when Logan snatches it from Luke’s hands and uses it as leverage to convince Saint to help him break Finn out of Saint Clair. Saint agrees and Luke is left alone with his father’s letter, and the memories of talking about the treasure with his father before he was taken away.

We meet Remus the next morning on the docks, ready for his morning sail, only to find Sirius waiting there for him. Sirius agrees to go sailing with him. It’s a little awkward, and Remus can’t stop wondering about Sirius and Saint’s relationship. As they ride the wind and waves together, some of the wariness is relieved and Remus learns how Saint escaped from Saint Clair: an accident. Sirius doesn’t know how he plans to do it again.

And Saint won’t tell him. Sirius has to follow him to the orphanage in order to get Saint to let him help. It turns out Saint plans to climb down the chimney and then exit the doors from within, just like last time.

Before we can see if he pulls it off, we go to Marlene and Dorcas. Marlene finally tells Dorcas that she got into college, at Berkeley. Dorcas is supportive of her girlfriend, promising that they’ll figure this out.

We go back to Sirius and Saint who make it into Saint Clair safely. We learn that Saint didn’t let Logan come because, if it went wrong, they needed someone on the outside who knew Saint Clair well. Saint gets cut on his way down the chimney, but is otherwise okay—except for the memories. Saint Clair brings back feelings of the Crucio-ridden dreams, and feeling out of place. Saint has always felt out of place—In the world, in his own skin. He hopes to find files on his mother, but they are locked up. We learn Saint’s real name is Sebastian, and that he hates it. They find Finn in solitary and get him out safely, though he is weak from not eating and from Crucio.

Logan is waiting nervously with Leo. Leo wishes Logan would have told him he was going to threaten Luke like that. Logan feels guilty, but there’s a sadness of missing someone that they share, only Logan is getting the person he misses back. Leo says that they can stay with him, when Finn arrives, if they want to. Logan realizes that he thinks of Leo as home.

Luke is sitting alone, having opened his father’s letter. There are only two words, a name: Pascal Dumais. He’s surprised to find Saint resting on his window sill, having climbed to his room once again—and hurt. Luke cleans his wounds and asks Saint why he came here instead of going home to Sirius and his other friends. Saint says it’s because Sirius will just want to talk about what happened and because Luke is mean, because Luke is what he expects him to be. Luke also learns that Saint knows exactly who Pascal Dumais is.

~

***cw: mentions of drugs and addiction, mentions of drugs used medicinally, mentions of hurricanes, mentions of grief and death******

~

part viii

Lily knew she would probably miss dinners at Gryffindor Club when she went away to school. She knew that she would miss her family—even Petunia. She raised her iced tea to her mouth and looked around their small table, the one they almost always sat at. It was like each family had an assigned seat, just as each student did in class. This who island was one of assignments. Neighborhood. Job. Partner. Everyone seemed to expect her and James to be together.

She wanted that, too—quietly. But not like this. Not with an assigned table.

Not, when James and his parents walked through the clubhouse doors, she could have predicted it to the very second. Clockwork, she remembered saying to James. This island ran like clockwork, and sometimes she felt like she was skidding across the watch’s face.

The hostess greeted the Potters as everyone did on the island. A hug, a laugh. Everyone loved them. James looked flushed and fresh out of the shower, dark hair curling into its usual wild self as it dried, his button-down snug around his shoulders.

“You’re hopeless,” Petunia said from beside her.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Shush.”

James hadn’t quite seen her yet, but if she knew where to look, where his table was, he knew where her’s was, too. When their eyes met, a smile crossed James’ face like a race, like Lily had seen him fly up a lacrosse field—and then it tripped. He caught himself in his happiness, and Lily’s heart caught with him.

He sent her a small wave, and then turned and sat down between his parents, his back towards her. That wasn’t his fault, all the tables angled towards the ocean, but it felt like he was looking away from her.

She looked back down at her dinner and tried to focus on what her father was saying, but it was difficult. While their entrees were being taken away, James made his mother laugh. While they ate dessert, he got that exasperated set in his shoulders that he did when college came up and his father patted a soothing hand on his back. When Lily and her family’s chairs scraped as they got up to leave, James turned around and rose, too. There were pieces of cake in front of his parents, but nothing in front of him. He walked over to her and greeted her parents kindly, said hello to Petunia, and then looked at Lily. His hair was completely wild again, and his hands were in his pockets.

“Want to hang out?” he asked.

“Oh, is that what it’s called these days?” Petunia grumbled, and Lily’s mother sent her a look. Lily just nodded.

“Sure,” she turned to her parents. “See you guys at home.”

“Don’t be out too late,” her father said.

“Dad, it’s summer.”

“Still,” Mr. Evans laughed as he held the door open for his wife and daughter.

“Do you want to go to the field?” James asked as they turned the other way, towards the open balcony doors—the same direction Lily had lead them the night she’d refused him. “I bet we could sneak some wine from the cellar.”

Lily smiled. “You better choose a good one.”

Olli, working at the bar, turned a blind eye to their not so careful sneaking down and up the kitchen stairs. James hadn’t looked too carefully at what he chose, but Lily didn’t mind.

“Did Luke ever get his car back?” she asked as they walked across the grass, Hogwarts Academy looming up in the dark in front of them.

James turned to her. “Oh man, no one told you?”

“Told me what?”

James blew out a breath, laughing and raising the bottle. “We better open this first.”

They settled in the very middle of the lacrosse field, just over the Hogwarts Castles’ logo, and James pulled the cork. They traded the bottle back and forth as James told her about the Voldemort, a tale they’d grown up with, and about Saint Clair and the breakout, and about Luke and his father.

“Pascal Dumais,” Lily repeated. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Me neither,” James said, taking a sip. “But apparently Sirius and Saint know him. And Luke’s father, I guess.”

“How is Luke?” Lily asked. “Marls always says she can’t really tell. And then there’s the…”

James nodded and he swallowed, picking at the grass. “Crucio. I know. I tried to help, but I guess he’s still…He’s just so angry.”

“I don’t understand why though, with the Crucio, I mean. You know? Doesn’t it just…make you relive things? Why would you want to just keep reliving the same thing over and over again?”

James glanced at her, hazel eyes careful. “To change it? Or to hope that it might change?”

Lily felt herself flush, with the wine, and beneath his gaze. She hadn’t meant it like that, but she supposed that was what they were doing. Lily didn’t know what she would change, though. The island? James? Herself?

“Do you…” James began quietly, and when Lily looked over at him, he was still looking down. The high moon caught the curve of his jaw, the glint of his glasses. “Do you think about it?”

The question made Lily feel like all the field lights had come on at once, striking her and baring her to the world. He didn’t have to explain. Lily knew he was talking about that night. Their night. Lily looked back at the sky and closed her eyes. James’ hands had been warm, dipping between her legs, cupping the small of her back when she’d arched against him. He’d smiled into their kisses, like he couldn’t help it, until he couldn’t anymore, until her heat had made his mouth slip open, until she’d wrapped him up against her so tightly there was nothing to think about but never parting. It had been quick. Neither of them really knew what they were doing. But it had been perfect. Intoxicating.

“Of course I do,” Lily whispered.

“Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it,” James replied, and it brought a thrill to Lily’s fingertips, adrenaline to her gut.

She thought of him, alone at night in his bed, unable to stop thinking about it. She knew she couldn’t sometimes, either.

“Not it,” he added, eyes still raised towards the stars. “You.”

You, Lily’s mind repeated. Him. Those smiles. James’ smiles. The way he blatantly asked for what he wanted, asked what she wanted. The way he’d knock on her door and they’d spend entire days together—the way they’d been doing that since they were ten. James had tried to teach her lacrosse, she’d tried to teach him how to knit. James used to come on the floaty that trailed behind their speedboat with her, when she was younger and never wanted to go alone. It had been both expected and surprising the first time they’d kissed—sixteen and awkward. She’d laughed it off and cried about it to Marlene later, unsure why she was crying.

You. I can’t stop thinking about you.

“I thought you wanted to stay in…in whatever space we’re in,” Lily whispered back.

“I thought you didn’t like the space we’re in,” James replied. “I want…Fuck,” he laughed a little. “Isn’t the whole point not to know everything right now? Isn’t what you want not to know everything? To get outside of this circuit? So, can’t we just…”

“James, this circuit is your life.”

“Stop telling me that,” James urged. “I have…” he ran a hand over his face, and there was real distress there, way beyond the two of them. “I have no idea what my life is.”

Lily reached out, brows drawn together, and put a hand on his shoulder. He was warm through his shirt. “J…”

“I don’t need to know,” James said and when he looked up at her, he looked pained. He took his glasses off, rubbed at his eyes again. “I don’t need to know. Do I?”

“No, of course not, I’m sorry,” Lily whispered. Her hand moved to his neck, thumb stroking softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

He kept his head down and let Lily tangle her fingers in the soft hair at the base of his neck. Lily put her head on his shoulder. She felt James relax a little, felt his arm wind around her waist and his mouth press into her hair.

“Let’s just…not know for a little while?” he whispered, and she nodded, pressing closer.

~

Grimmauld place was wild and open, Logan thought, lying beside Finn. As he brushed Finn’s hair away from his face, he liked that the first thing Finn would feel when he woke up was the ocean breeze on his face, that the first thing he would smell was the salt and the sun.

Some books, piled up beside the bed, served as a place for a waiting glass of water and toast with butter and honey. Easy on his stomach, Leo had said when he’d dropped it off, along with some more filling foods for later, which were waiting in the refrigerator. Logan had wanted to ask him to stay, but Leo was going to work. Leo didn’t—Leo didn’t even know Finn. Logan didn’t know why he wanted Leo to stay.

Saint and Sirius had both come in at various moments in the early morning, as had Dorcas, but Logan was only dimly aware of their presence. Now, the sun was turning the morning warm, and Finn was beginning to stir beneath Logan’s touch. Logan propped himself up on his forearm, heart beating hard.

“Finn?” he whispered as Finn breathed in slowly—the easy, long breath of waking up.

“Finn,” Logan whispered again, palm on his cheek.

Finn turned into Logan’s hand and opened his eyes. Those brown eyes that Logan’s subconscious, that the Crucio, had never gotten quite right. Finn blinked heavily a few times and Logan held his breath, trying to reel the relief that welled in his chest. He wanted to throw himself onto Finn, crush them together—but Finn looked so fragile. Thin and confused.

His eyes cleared at the sight of Logan, though, and then filled with bright tears.

“Is this real,” he barely whispered the words, his voice hoarse from disuse, as if scared to break the spell. His hand twitched on the bed, as if to reach forward. But touching didn’t work with Crucio, and it would only hurt to know that they couldn’t touch—Logan knew that all too well.

Logan nodded, throat too tight to speak. He took Finn’s fingers in his own and kissed his palm before pressing it against his own cheek.

“I’m warm, aren’t I?” he managed.

Finn just stared at him, then past him at Grimmauld’s wooden ceilings, at the sunlight beginning to flood into the room.

“You’re out. You got out. You’re okay."

Finn found Logan again quickly, as if he couldn’t help it. His palm pressed against Logan’s cheek, sliding around to cup the back of his head.

“Come here,” Finn said the words like a breath of relief, like air, and Logan went.

He buried his face in Finn’s neck, let Finn pull as much of his weight on him as he wanted, and wedged one of his arms around Finn’s back, the other buried in the hair at the base of his neck, just like Finn’s was in his own.

They lay there, just breathing. Logan felt Finn’s chest rise when his own did. They pressed against each other, like their hearts were trying to get closer. Logan didn’t think he’d feel close enough to Finn ever again.

“Lo,” Finn whispered after a while, and Logan had thought that maybe he had fallen asleep again, was content to lay here and wait for him to wake again, but he looked up at his name on Finn’s lips.

Finn pulled him forward again and brushed their mouths together once, twice, and then smiled. A laugh spilled from him, eyes wet again.

“I missed you,” Logan felt his voice tremble beneath the words, and they felt too small. Words felt too small for Finn.

“You could have been caught,” Finn whispered, fingers combing Logan’s hair back from his forehead, as if re-memorizing the feeling. “God, I don’t remember…how?”

“I didn’t…I…Finn, I did some bad things to get you here,” Logan swallowed dryly, closing his eyes at the feeling of Finn touching him again. “And it’s really hard to be sorry about it right now, but…”

Finn made a soft sound, and Logan couldn’t help but smile when he felt Finn’s thumb brush just under his eye, a small warning, before they ever so lightly touched his eyelashes. They were long, and dark, and Finn had always loved them, had repeated that gesture a thousand and one times, even when they had been all of eight years old, whispering to each other and staying up past their curfew.

“You’re okay,” Finn said, and then, “God, I’m starving.”

There Logan was, being selfish again. He scrambled for the toast, cold now.

“Leo says to take it slow,” he said as he handed it over.

“Leo?” Finn asked as he pushed himself up to sit. He hummed gratefully when Logan handed him the glass of water, too, and took a small sip, then a bigger one.

“He’s—yeah, Leo. He—” Saved me. Helped me. Was kind. He’s what I think home feels like, but I need you there, I need you to tell me, to be sure.

“Oh,” came a voice from behind them, and Logan turned to see Sirius. “You’re awake. That’s good.”

Finn nodded, mouth full. He glanced at Logan. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Shit,” Sirius laughed a little. “I’m Sirius. Sorry. This is—uh,” he gestured around. “Well, I wouldn’t say my house. I live here? But welcome to Grimmauld, stay as long as you like.”

“He’s Saint’s friend,” Logan said, and then realized. He said quietly. “Bash.”

“Bash?” Finn’s eyes widened and Logan shook his head.

“He doesn’t like to be called that. I try not to slip. I’m getting better.”

“He never did,” Finn nodded, then said, with a small smile. “Saint, then. I…yeah, he…he was there. In solitary.” Finn shook his head. “I thought it was the drugs.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, we were there.”

Finn looked at Logan. “Lo?”

It wasn’t accusing. Just curious. But Logan heard the question anyway. Why weren’t you there?

“It’s not his fault,” came Saint’s voice as he emerged the same way that Sirius had come. His hair was a mess of curls on top of his head, his eyes a little puffy from a hard sleep, but focused clearly on Finn. “I told him not to come. He almost burned a house down to get you back.”

Logan flushed with guilt.

Saint walked over to sit beside Logan and smiled a tired smile. “Are you okay?”

Finn nodded. “Thanks to you. Saint.”

Saint’s eyebrow raised a little at the weight Finn put into the word. A pleased light flickered over his face.

“Eat something,” Saint said. “You look bad.”

Finn laughed a little as he took another bite of toast, and Saint rose, walking over to where Sirius was. Saint folded himself against Sirius’ chest and closed his eyes. Sirius was staring out the window towards the waves, but wrapped an arm around him, and tilted his temple to rest against Saint’s.

Finn’s eyes were questioning, but Logan just shrugged. He didn’t know if they were together or not. Sometimes it seemed like they were, sometimes it didn’t. Logan didn’t really care just then, he only wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Finn’s hair and watch him eat. He couldn’t wait until he had his strength back. He’d take him to Leo’s. They’d go swimming in the ocean for as long as they wanted and find work somehow. Somewhere safe.

Finn leaned into his palm as he ate, smiling at him in a way that made Logan have to scoot closer to him, their crossed knees touching.

“Leo makes good toast,” Finn said.

“Leo makes good everything,” Logan laughed. “Leo’s just—good.” Logan pressed his hands onto Finn’s thighs. He was still wearing the clothes from Saint Clair. They’d have to find him something else. Logan thought of the money in his bag, and where it came from, and the Crucio beside it. He swallowed, trying to keep the worry form his face, and rubbed a thumb over Finn’s knee. “You’ll see.”

A whistle came from down the hall, and Dorcas emerged, hair and mess and eyes on her phone. “Hurricane’s supposed to roll in in the next week. Fuck, it’s supposed to be really bad.”

Logan looked up. He could remember a few hurricanes while in Saint Clair. The rattling windows and the mess of fallen trees afterwards. “Have they named it yet?”

“Botilda,” Dorcas nodded. “Hurricane Botilda. Makes sense, after Albus last year.”

“We should start trying to board up now,” Sirius said. “Grimmauld barely made it last year.”

“We should try to be somewhere else when it hits,” Dorcas replied pointedly. “It wasn’t just the house that barely made it. And they’re saying it’s bad, Sirius. Really bad.”

Logan felt Finn scoot closer to him, and smiled when he felt a kiss pressed to his neck.

“Where will we go?” Finn whispered.

“If you suggest—” Sirius began, eyes dark and on Dorcas.

“James would let you two stay with him,” Dorcas said. “He would. And I could get away with staying with Marls.”

“No,” Sirius snapped. “We don’t need their help.”

“God, you’re so fucking proud,” Dorcas sighed.

“Interesting choice of words,” Saint laughed. “Gods, and their holy souls.”

Logan thought of Leo. Of his warm house, and his offer. They could stay with Leo…would Leo really want them to?

“Anyway. We’ll decide later,” Saint patted Sirius’ cheek and sauntered out of the room. “I have a lunch date.”

~

Luke had asked to meet him in Rowena, and Saint thought that felt neutral enough. Not the Hollow, not Godric. Although, if they were talking about Pascal Dumais, they might as well have gone to the Lion. Baby steps, Saint supposed. After all, he was already surprised that Luke had asked to meet up at all.

He was even more surprised every time he brushed against the bandage across his ribs. Had been surprised by Luke’s—touch, he guessed. He thought of his messy scrawl that filled the corners of the copy of Jane Eyre Saint had swiped, now sitting in Grimmauld. He had spent more time last night studying the formation of each written letter than actually reading.

Saint, standing on the sunny sidewalk, waiting, rolled his eyes at himself. Luke was an ass. Saint was, too. Luke liked books. Saint wondered if he liked to talk about them, wondered what he wanted to do with himself.

He probably wanted to leave here, just like Sirius did. Just like Marlene, and Dorcas, and Saint’s own fucking mother.

Saint wished he had tried harder to get into the files at Saint Clair. Maybe he could have known her name by now. He had tried so hard to remember, but the only thing that ever came up was maman. A hazy memory of crying, of reaching for her as arms carried him backwards, that he didn’t know if he made up or not.

Now, if felt like he never would.

“Sup.”

Saint turned to see Luke standing there, aviator sunglasses on and a white t-shirt.

Saint sent him a quietly disbelieving look. “You don’t actually talk like that, you know.”

Saint took his sunglasses off, folding them into his shirt as he led them towards the restaurant. “What?”

“Sup,” Saint parroted. “Dude. Hey, man.”

“How do you know how I talk?” Luke yanked open the door like he was fighting against it. It wasn’t the gentle touch Saint remembered across his skin, but Saint didn’t like it any less.

“Because I’ve read your writing now,” Saint replied, and walked through first, even though Luke hadn’t been holding the door for him.

“Hey,” said a boy at the counter. He had dark skin, and gold glinted in his ears. “Take a seat wherever.”

“No, you haven’t,” Luke snapped as he followed.

“Luke,” the boy laughed. “Chill, man.”

“Sup,” Saint said to the boy, then looked at Luke. “Deveaux, you picked the place, what should I have? Also, you’re paying.”

Luke shot him a look, but approached the counter. “Hi, Thomas. Two burgers. Also, are we scrimmaging later?”

“You know it, baby. Two coming up. How you like them, or…?” Thomas asked.

Luke looked at Saint. “Do you like pickles?”

“Nope.”

Luke grinned. “Yeah, how I like them.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes, but complied.

~

Dorcas ditched her bike in the grass outside of the building with the sign that read Blizzard’s. It was the most popular ice cream spot on the island.

The bell above the door rang out happily as she entered, the smell of sugar and sunscreen hitting her as she looked around at the bustling tables, painted bright colors. Natalie was behind the freezers, long blond hair scooped up into a messy bun as she handed out cone after cone. She winked at Dorcas when she saw her, and jerked her chin towards the back. Dorcas smiled back, and slid behind the counter and through the door into the back room.

“Meadowes,” Kasey looked up. “You’re early. Hear about the storm?”

“Yes. Kase, can I ask you something?”

Kasey smirked. “You’ve never asked to ask me anything before.”

Dorcas sent him a sarcastic glare, and leaned on the counter, feeling the weight of her pack shift against her back. “I’m thinking about getting out.”

Kasey paused for a long while, then sighed. “Yeah.” He looked back towards where Dorcas knew the greenhouse was, where the Crucio grew, hidden among the other plants. “Yeah, me too.”

“Seriously?”

“This was something I took up when I was younger, you know?” Kasey replied. “I wanted fast cash, and I was using Crucio myself at the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Felix. You know how it is. I was lost. This shit can pray on lost people. Now…now I want a different life. With Nat. I wanted it to be safe, you know? Crucio. I wanted it to be used correctly.”

Dorcas nodded. She knew that well, too. Kasey and herself had had countless discussions about the medicinal uses of Crucio. But it was a slippery slope. It could go wrong. It had gone wrong in the Carrows’ hands. They laced it with drugs that forced one to give up control of their memory, it allowed the reliving without the learning. It became a Pandora’s Box, a place where your greatest desires lived, as well as the addiction to desire. The Carrows put things in there that let the addiction out first, before any of the healing properties. Used correctly, the plant provided a safe place for grief, or hope, or longing. Used incorrectly, it created a false reality in which to live.

“That doesn’t sound like getting out of the game exactly,” Dorcas said.

“It’s getting out of the illegal part of it,” Kasey replied. “The dealing. I want to start a company. Therapy and classes. I want to help people, not give them a late night quick fix.” Kasey glanced up at her. “We were actually hoping you’d join in. But here you are, wanting out.”

Dorcas sighed and slid into one of the ragged leather chairs. “I like the sound of that. The only reason I agreed to work with you is because your aim wasn’t to take advantage. But I…”

“Marlene?” he asked.

Dorcas took her hat off, staring at the front, where Marlene had painted their initials, intertwined.

“She’s leaving,” Dorcas said. “For school. And I…I need to be able to go with her.”

“Do you have savings?”

“Some,” she nodded. “Enough for a plane ticket. I’ll have to get it in cash though, which always makes them think twice.”

Kasey laughed. “No bank account with drug money, I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Dorcas sighed, and let her head fall back. “God, Kase, what the fuck am I going to do? She’s going to meet some California chick at school and just…there are so many amazing people out there. And she deserves the best of them. Not some drop out.”

“If you drop out of one thing, you can drop into another,” Kasey replied. He pushed his chin length tawny hair out of his face. “Now, I’m tired of your feel-sorry-for-me bullshit. You’re smart and in love and one hell of a person.”

Dorcas let her head drift to one side to smile at him. “You too, Kase. You know that don’t you?”

“Oh, I tell him as much as I can,” came Natalie’s voice. She came around Dorcas’ chair and slid onto Kasey’s lap with a light kiss. “But he’s basically as stubborn as you are.”

Dorcas snorted, but then went quiet. She looked around at the back room. It was tidy chaos, the perfect environment for inspiration.

“You two could put the Carrows out of business,” she said. “You really could.”

“If we can get the funding up,” Kasey said. “Then, yeah,” he smiled at Natalie, stroking a hand over her bare shoulder. “We could.”

~

“Two burgers,” Thomas said, then laughed a little. “Extra pickles, no onions.”

Luke looked at Saint, who just sighed.

“You’re the picture of chivalry,” Saint said, but picked it up. “The very image.”

They took their first few bites in silence. Saint figured Luke would talk when he was ready, but when he just pulled out the letter his dad had left him, the single slip of paper with nothing but Pascal’s name on it, Saint guessed he’d have to take the first step once again.

“We should be meeting at the Lion, you know,” Saint broke the silence. “That’s where Dumo is.”

“Dumo?” Luke repeated.

“Pascal. Pascal Dumais. Everyone calls him Dumo.”

Luke nodded, as if taking this in. He was fidgety as hell. Saint had never seen him do anything with his hands except throw a punch or tuck them beneath his crossed arms. Or hold Saint steady. Now, he picked apart his fries, shredded the label on his soda and his paper napkin, and chewed slowly.

“I don’t want him there,” Luke finally said. “I want to know about him first. Tell me.”

Saint nodded. He could understand that.

Saint picked up his water, breaking the cap’s seal. “Me and Sirius have been…it’s just been the two of us for a long time. Most of our lives.”

“I remember when Sirius left school,” Luke said. “There were all kinds of rumors. Most kids thought he was, like, dead or something.”

“He sort of was,” Saint replied. “But, then again, so was I. We were free, but we didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Dumo could see that we were on our own, of course.”

“Did he threaten you?” Luke asked. “With authorities, or whatever?”

“The opposite,” Saint said, twisting the cap this way and that. “He didn’t push. He made sure we had what we needed, but he didn’t push.” Saint smiled. “And I hate to be pushed.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve figured that out.”

“He said something recently, actually,” Saint continued. “About Leo’s father. And the treasure. They used to go out on Leo’s dad’s boat together.” Saint shrugged. “Maybe your dad went, too.”

“I didn’t know anything about it,” Luke said, staring down at his food.

“I think, more often than not, children don’t know half of what their parents are.”

“Or anything of them, right?” Luke said, then winced. Actually winced. “Sorry. I don’t…”

“Right,” Saint just sighed. “Or anything. Like me.”

“I guess you’re tired of the poor orphan boy thing,” Luke said. “But you can’t tell me you don’t play that card.”

“I’m tired of it in more ways than I can count,” Saint said, then laughed. “But, yes. It’s helpful, when I need some extra work. Sometimes. Some people feel bad. Some people don’t trust me. Like you.”

“You haven’t given me any reason to trust you.”

“And yet, here we are,” Saint waved a hand at the restaurant. “You want your father. And I want my gold. And Logan wants to be free of debt, and Finn wants Logan, and Sirius wants…” Saint swallowed. “And I don’t actually know what Lupin wants.”

“I don’t think Remus knows what Remus wants,” Luke leaned back in his chair, and Saint felt their sandaled feet brush beneath the table as Luke stretched his long legs out. He pulled them back. “Sorry.”

Saint briefly thought about hooking their ankles together, just to see what Luke would do, but instead tucked his feet beneath his chair, giving him room.

“So, tonight?” he said.

Luke shook his head, confused. “What?”

“We’ll talk to Dumo tonight. You’ll come to the Lion, his restaurant, tonight. In the Hollow.”

Luke looked away, towards the other customers, the busy lunch scene. “Who else will be there?”

“Sirius will want to know. Leo. Maybe no Logan just yet, he’ll be with Finn. Bring Lupin, if you want. What, you don’t like people?”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You’re the one who came to me because I’m mean.”

Saint laughed. “I came to you because I don’t like surprises and you’re exactly what I expect you to be.”

“And that’s mean?”

Saint rose, crumpling his napkin and throwing it onto his empty plate. “Five o’clock tonight, before the dinner rush.”

Luke nodded and followed him out of the restaurant, waving to Thomas, and back into the heat of the day.

“Oh,” Luke called as they split ways, Luke towards his car, Saint towards the beach. Saint turned to see him squinting in the sunlight. “And whatever it is that you took from my room—and I know you took something—bring it tonight.”

Saint hummed, as if thinking. Then, he pulled Luke’s sunglasses from his pocket and put them on.

“No,” Saint chimed, and turned on his heel, smiling at the curse that followed him.

~

Remus ran into Sirius outside of the Lion, and almost laughed at the surprise that washed over Sirius’ face when Remus smiled and said hello. In a way, Sirius reminded Remus of Luke. Unassuming when it came to affection, but bright when they let themselves feel it, accept it.

“I keep thinking I’ll see you again,” Remus said. “Waiting for me on the dock.”

Sirius pushed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had a tank top on, and Remus’ eyes lingered over his tan arms.

“I didn’t know you wanted me there,” Sirius sounded almost bashful when he said it.

Remus’ smile was teasing, but his eyes were firm. “I think you should stop assuming things about me.”

Sirius blinked, and went to open his mouth to reply, but Remus only shrugged a shoulder and held the door open for him.

“Did they ask you to come, too?” Remus said. “Saint and Luke?”

“Yeah,” Sirius mumbled. “Well, Saint.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “Hey, did you hear about the hurricane coming? It’s supposed to be a heavy one.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Remus glanced back at him as they walked through. He didn’t see Luke or Saint yet. “What do you mean?”

Sirius pointed towards the coast as they slid into chairs. “We’re right off the point so, it’s a lot of nailing wood boards and sandbags and…you know.”

“The point,” Remus repeated, and Sirius nodded.

Remus stared at him. “You’re…not actually thinking of staying there.”

Sirius looked at him and Remus held up wary hands.

“That wasn’t a dig, calm down, I’m just saying—the storm.”

“We’re fine,” Sirius said. “We’ve always been fine.”

“You can’t be—it’s not safe.”

“Well, I’m sorry if not all of us can afford—”

“Stay with me,” Remus blurted, and it sent them both into silence.

Sirius shook his head. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you a little,” Remus looked up as a waitress brought them ice water. “I knew you a little when we were eleven, before you disappeared.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t disappear. A God would think that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Once someone exits your little bubble, it’s easy to pretend they don’t exist.” Sirius scooted his chair to the side a little, defiantly, eyes on the door. “No. Thank you. We’ll be fine.”

Remus just stared at him. He was like two waring currents, Sirius Black. Hot and cold, mingling below the surface where Remus couldn’t see. They surprised him each time he brushed through a different one. He thought of the boat, and changing winds, and Sirius’ smile. There was no trace of it now.

“You’re going to risk your life to prove a point?”

“I’m not.”

“Which, risking your life, or proving a point?”

Sirius just scowled. “Thank you for your offer.”

Remus sat back in his chair, too, if only to mirror Sirius’ crossed arm position. They stared at each other.

“They say the winds are going to be up to—”

“Look,” Sirius sighed. “I—”

“You could really be hurt,” Remus said, and when Sirius opened his mouth again to respond, Remus cut him off again. “Or Saint could be.”

Remus watched the way Sirius’ eyes lightened at his name. He saw a crack in the surface, a shift, but before he could say more, there was a shuffle of feet and Luke was standing by their table.

“Luke,” Remus said, looking up at him. He didn’t look any better than he had the night they had gone to his house. Remus felt another wave of guilt about that. Luke had purple beneath his eyes and his sweatshirt was one that Remus knew well. It had been left at his own house for weeks, only for Luke to pick it up later. It was a little small, from before he had bulked up from lacrosse, but Luke still wore it, fraying edges and all.

“Hey,” Luke cleared his throat, pushed a hand through his hair, and sat down. “Yeah, hi.”

He was nervous, Remus realized.

“Where is Saint?” Luke asked.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Remus practically felt the cold current grow. “He’ll be here.”

Luke didn’t rise to the bait. He looked rattled. He pulled the sweatshirt off, his haste nearly taking his shirt with it. His cheeks had pink spots on them. Remus reached out to touch his arm.

“Luke,” he said. “Are you—”

“Yeah,” Luke cut him off, but then looked at Remus more softly. He nodded. “I’m okay, Re.”

Remus nodded, then looked back to Sirius in time to see his eyes dart from Remus to Luke and back, narrowed.

“What?” Luke snapped.

“Sup,” Saint’s voice came.

Remus looked at him as he sat down, then back at Sirius.

“Jesus Christ,” Luke mumbled.

“You know, Deveaux,” Saint said instead, and smiled at Luke. “There’s a song that came on in your car. Been stuck in my head ever since.”

“Where’s Pascal Dumais?” Luke asked.

“Straight to the point, then,” Saint replied. “He should be here. Might be in the back.”

Sirius rose, palms flat on the table. He still looked exasperated. “I’ll go find him.”

That left Remus alone at the table with Luke and Saint. Luke still seemed rattled, and Saint was just looking between the two of them.

“Are you all right?” Remus leaned in to ask. “You look…”

Luke took a slow, uneasy breath and looked over at Remus. The green in his eye seemed to blend more with the brown, his pupils large.

“This guy could have information about my dad,” Luke began, and glanced behind him in the direction that Sirius had gone. “I’ll let you know how I am when we talk to him. I…” Luke hesitated.

“Three,” Saint said softly. “Two…one—”

Luke pushed his chair back, too, turning towards the counter and the kitchen doors. “I don’t want Black warning him off or something.”

“What?” Remus made to rise, too, but hesitated. “Luke—“

But Luke was already ducking beneath the counter and more or less blasting through the kitchen’s door. Remus saw Leo do a double take and take a step towards him, shouting a protest.

Saint called out to him, then rose. “It’s all right!”

Remus watched him walk away in that smooth way of his, and lean against the counter, clearly explaining to Leo.

Remus had no choice but to follow.

The kitchens smelled like spiced meat and fresh bread. It was steamy with boiling water and frying pans, cooks yelling to each other as they prepared for a full service.

Remus floundered for a moment before he found Sirius and Luke. Luke was easy to spot, taller than anyone else there. He was talking very quickly to a broad man with a dark beard and kind eyes. He had the sort of hands that Remus associated with his grandfather. Meant for making, strong and scarred. Remus stepped up beside Sirius, who was watching.

“Pascal Dumais,” Remus said softly to Sirius.

Sirius was gazing at Pascal with a look on his face that Remus had never seen before. Soft.

“Dumo,” he replied.

Pascal shuffled them all into a back office where he pulled extra chairs around a table, pointed some of them to a slightly scraggly couch, and pulled out a bottle of what looked like homemade wine. It was light orange in color, and he handed each of them a glass.

“One of my wife’s many talents,” he smiled. “It’s orange wine.”

“Tell us now,” Luke said. “Tell me why my father—”

They all looked up when the door opened, and Leo slipped inside. He looked around warily at them, then managed a slight smile at Pascal.

“I don’t know how to reach Logan,” he said. “I…”

Pascal shook his head. “Sit down, Leo. You’ll need to hear this, too.”

Saint scooted over, into Sirius’ side. It pushed Sirius closer to Remus, and Remus tried not to settle into the warmth that Sirius radiated against him. He looked around the office instead, jaw clenched. It was filled with family photos, but it wasn’t until Remus looked closer that he realized it wasn’t just three children that appeared beside their parents, three children who were nearly Pascal and his wife’s spitting image. He recognized a young Sirius, and beside him, a young Saint. They were smiling wildly. It brought Remus back all those years.

Sirius, there one day, gone the next.

Pascal took a sip of his wine, his eyes going somewhat sad. Remus found himself looking at his hands again. He missed his grandfather.

All us Lupins, Remus. We go mad. At least that’s what they say.

“We shared a love of history,” Pascal said to Leo. “Your dad and I. But, of course, we by no means had the funds to truly commit to such an,” he laughed lightly, a little sadly. ”A hunt.”

He looked at Luke. Pascal spoke with the heavy island accent.

“That is where your father came in.”

Luke hadn’t touched his cup. “He was your funding.”

Pascal nodded. “But I didn’t know that he was…I didn’t know where he was getting it from. I never dreamed that he was…well, I’m not sure what they took him for, in the end.”

“No one seems to be able to tell me,” Luke said lowly.

“You never said,” Leo whispered. His blue eyes weren’t betrayed exactly, but he looked shocked.

“No, Dumo, you really didn’t,” Saint said.

“What was there to say?” Pascal replied. “Do you know how many people look for that treasure? At first I thought Wyatt, Leo’s father, was mad.”

Remus stiffened.

“And then,” Pascal rose. “Then he brought us the map.”

“The map,” Leo repeated, and he stood. “The map to The Cradle?”

Pascal swallowed and nodded. “Yes. I don’t know where he got it, he wouldn’t say.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, and shook his head. “Why…why was he out there alone? Why was he out there in that weather?”

“You need a storm,” Pascal sighed and rubbed his eyes. “At least that’s what he and Victor thought.”

“My dad was actually hunting with you?” Luke asked. He and Leo wore almost identical expressions.

Pascal nodded. “It sounds strange, doesn’t it? A Hollow, a Helga, and a God, working together.” His eyes flit around at them all.

“Why a storm?” Remus asked. “Like, for tides or something?”

“Exactly,” Pascal nodded. “There’s a current in The Cradle. They call it—”

“The Horcrux,” Remus said, and when Saint sent him a questioning look he spread his hands, drawing a circle in his palm. “It’s a killer. It’s why people are so wary of sailing near there. It’s strongest when the winds are high, and the island ring keeps it contained. And it’s so rocky that it…” he looked at Pascal, realizing. “My grandfather used to call it the ship-sinker.”

Pascal nodded. “He’s not the only one. I thought Wyatt was insane, but Victor didn’t.”

Leo took a step forward, and Remus watched his chest rise and fall, eyes turning angry. “Then why wasn’t Victor out there?” He turned on Luke.

“Come, Le,” Pascal shook his head. “It isn’t this boy’s fault. We all knew it was dangerous.”

“And what?” Leo said, voice raising. “And he was the only one who thought it was worth the risk?”

Pascal was quiet for a long moment after that. Remus heard Leo’s real question, too. He was the only one who didn’t think he was leaving something behind? Pascal seemed about to speak once or twice, and then shook his head.

“I don’t know,” Pascal whispered, voice pained. “I didn’t even know he was going.” He looked up at Leo. “I didn’t know he had gone until we heard—”

Leo turned his back, then, and pushed the door open, disappearing down the hall. He left silence behind him.

Luke stood in the middle of it, like the quiet didn’t weigh him down at all.

“And my dad’s letter?” he asked. “Your name.”

“Jesus, Deveaux,” Sirius snarled from beside Remus. “Give it a fucking minute.”

“He’s not the only one who has been waiting for answers,” Luke snapped back. “It isn’t my fault he didn’t like them.”

Pascal rose without a word and turned to the desk. He opened a deep filing cabinet drawer and, from the very back, slid a rolled piece of paper, tightly bound in a protective plastic.

“The map,” Luke said, eyes trained on it.

“This showed up a few days after your father’s arrest,” Pascal replied. “That’s all I know. I tried to get in contact with him. I really did.”

“But it went down with Leo’s father,” Saint said. “Why are there two?”

“There is never only one of anything,” Pascal said. “The world is too greedy.”

Luke reached for it, but Pascal held it back with a knowing expression. “Do I look stupid? I’m not giving you any clue as to where that gold might be. I don’t need anyone else getting—”

“Caught up?” Saint mumbled, and Remus felt the motion of Sirius slugging him.

“All fine,” Saint said with a smile, and stood. “Don’t worry about it, Dumo. We understand.”

Pascal let out a slight laugh. “Don’t think I don’t know about your slippery fingers.” He tapped the rolled map on his palm. “This won’t be in the same place twice.”

Saint pouted. Sirius stood, too, keeping close to Saint. It left Remus feeling cold on the couch.

“Why did you tell us, then?” Sirius asked.

“Sometimes there are things that people need to know,” Pascal said. “And sometimes there aren’t. You had my name. I did tell you why. But this. This is dangerous.”

“This is opportunity,” Saint shoved his way in front of Sirius.

“For what, wealth?” Pascal scoffed. “There are easier ways.”

“You don’t what to finish the job?” Saint shot back.

“I already lost one friend out of it,” Pascal said evenly. “I won’t lose a son, too.”

Saint froze and Remus saw Sirius freeze, too. Saint didn’t even look like he was breathing. His silence was equally as heavy as the one Leo had left behind.

“I’m not,” Saint’s voice barely came out, but it filled the small room. Remus thought his hands were shaking.

Pascal just nodded, eyes solemn.

Saint turned, shaking Sirius off when he tried to catch him, and then Luke, tried, too. Remus blinked and they were all tumbling out of the room, Luke on Sirius’ heels, Sirius on Saint’s.

“Stop,” Sirius shouted as they broke back out into the night. “Saint, it doesn’t matter—”

“Nothing does,” Saint yelled back without turning. “And so nothing turns into everything.”

Sirius stopped as Saint turned into shadows, as he got farther and farther away. Remus caught his breath beside him, but Luke kept going.

“What?” Sirius asked. “You’re going after him?”

“We need him,” Luke snapped over his shoulder, and disappeared, too, the white soles of his sneakers glinting like the moon rising.

“You’re not?” Remus asked, looking up at Sirius.

Sirius’ eyes looked far away. With Saint, Remus thought.

“Saint can’t be chased,” Sirius sighed. “He loses everyone. He comes back.”

They stayed there, though, just at the edge of The Hollow, looking into the dim night. Remus wondered what Luke thought Saint would give him.

“A storm,” Remus said. “The treasure needs a storm.”

“Botilda,” Sirius nodded. “I know.”

“Do you think he’ll…or Leo and Logan—”

“Maybe.”

Remus reached for him, put a hand on his shoulder. “You know where I live, right?”

Sirius made to pull away, but Remus held on. “Just answer.”

“Of course I know where you live,” Sirius sighed. “This island isn’t that big. Though some people might prefer if it was.”

Remus huffed out an annoyed breath, and let go. “There’s the tower. Round, a turret. There’s a door at the base of it. Go through it, up the stairs, and through the door to your left. My room’s just down the hall, and there’s a guest bedroom right across from it. I’ll leave the doors open.”

He left Sirius standing there, and with a strange pull in his chest.

~

Finn couldn’t help but feel strange, walking up to Leo’s house, his hand in Logan’s. It was small but cozy, with warm light coming from inside the windows, and flowers growing in the small yard. He could see the workshop garage door that Logan had described. Someone had painted the metal as a sky full of stars.

“This is such a…” he began, then laughed, feeling almost giddy. “Such a house.”

Logan laughed, too. His smile hadn’t faded once since Finn had gotten back on his feet. He didn’t feel all the way there, the tiredness still lingered, but at least now he felt like he could eat an entire horse—and no longer in tiny bites.

“It is, I really like it inside,” Logan replied as they stopped at the door. He squeezed Finn’s hand, and kissed the back of his palm. “You’ll see.”

He raised his fist to knock, and they stood there for a long, quiet moment, Logan leaning his head on Finn’s shoulder, before the door opened. Finn let himself take Leo in. He was blond, and tall. Lean muscled and—and he looked unbearably sad. His eyes were red.

Leo looked at them and Finn almost could feel Logan’s smile fade.

“Leo?” he asked.

“I…” Leo began, but his breathing caught, his eyes falling shut as he tried to keep his tears at bay.

Finn didn’t really know what made him do it, but he reached forward and put a hand on his arm—at the same time that Logan placed on on Leo’s back.

“Leo, hey,” Logan said gently. “Hey… what is it?”

“Let’s sit,” Finn said. He caught a glimpse of the living room behind Leo and the two of them got the door closed and led Leo to the couch. He sagged into it.

“I’m sorry,” Leo choked out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Logan said, shooting a worried, confused look at Finn. “We…what…”

“What can we do?” Finn asked timidly. Leo didn’t even know him. He probably didn’t want to be crying in front of him.

Leo looked up at Logan and a strange story spilled out of him. A ship, Finn caught. Gold. A hurricane and a death. Logan seemed to understand every word of it, his eyes wide. Finn realized he still had a hand on Leo’s back, and pressed it back into his lap.

“I never really thought too much about…” Leo’s voice broke. “How. If it was terrifying or…”

Finn looked at Logan across Leo. He shook his head, showing he didn’t understand. Leo must have caught the gesture in the corner of his eye because he turned to Finn. Finn stared at him. Some people just looked gorgeous when they cried. Leo was one of them.

“I’m sorry,” Leo rasped. “This isn’t how I wanted to meet you, Finn.”

Finn just shook his head. “I…no, don’t…It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

“He just,” Leo’s breathing caught, and he looked back at Logan. “There’s a difference now. It wasn’t the storm. He chose to—he chose to go.”

Logan placed a soothing hand on Leo’s neck and leaned in so that their foreheads nearly touched. Finn leaned back a little, staring at the inch of space between them.

“We know how it feels to have someone choose to go, Leo,” Logan said softly. “We understand.”

Logan looked at Finn, and Finn didn’t know what else to do but nod. That he could understand.

“We do,” Finn said softly. “We understand.”

Leo wiped his eyes and looked at Finn. He tried for a shaky smile. “I guess we have some explaining to do.”

#relic keel #relic keel lumosinlove #cw: mention of death #cw: drugs #lumosinlove ocs #wolfstar #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #dorelene #dorcas meadowes #Marlene mckinnon #saint #Luke deveaux #st. tweedle #jily #James potter #lily evans #angst #fluff #finnlo #Leo knut #o'knutzy #Logan tremblay #finn o'hara #treasure hunting au #lumosinlove

[vidalinav]

A Kinder Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: After the IC give Nesta an ultimatum Nesta chooses instead to support herself, cutting herself off from them completely and so begins Nesta’s journey of finding a job and falling in love with everyday life (Slice of Life/Fix-it Fic)

Masterlist, Chapter List 

Dedicated to you Noni!

~

Three flights of stairs later and Nesta could feel the muscles in her legs quake, and she wasn’t even on her floor. Even after all these months she was still not used to the stairs. They wound up the apartment building in a way that offered no shortcut.  

To get to her apartment, she’d need to pass every door on each level, each apartment spiraling around the building like a dome. Nesta’s was at the end. At the very top and the last apartment on the fifth floor. It was the cheapest one she could find in Velaris, and when she’d moved in she understood why.  

Never mind that the entire layout seemed impractical, Nesta often wondered what would happen if a fire broke out. She could only imagine jumping from the fifth floor like a flying squirrel, landing in that lone tree at the center of the complex. Then she’d really be lost to the wild, as her sisters probably thought now.  

She could hear the pounding footsteps of the floor above and Nesta rolled her eyes. Two little boys came trampling down, running as if they were made of air. They did not so much as huff as they bounced the ball they carried and Nesta held her breath as they passed. No sense in showing them that she couldn’t make it to her floor without panting out a lung.

“Hi Ms. Nesta!” One yelled.

“Bye Ms. Nesta!” The other called.

Nesta didn’t get the chance to answer before they were gone. Matching red shirts disappearing to lower levels. Her eyes tried to follow them as she grasped the railing for the fourth set of stairs. She couldn’t catch the youngest’s dark curly hair or the oldest’s green shoes and Nesta lugged herself up, sighing in defeat.  

She wondered if falling down four floors was enough to knock herself out--if the beautiful fae male on the first floor would perhaps carry her up, gods knew she’d survive the fall. But no... Nesta couldn’t chance it. With her luck, no one would even notice, and she’d have to pick herself up, shame and all, and climb them all over again.

She supposed she could always pretend to be napping. Lie under that tree and the beautiful azure sky like she hadn’t fallen four floors. The summer sun, Nesta would say to her neighbors if they asked. Such a beautiful day to be out here. Picnics and all.

Why are your legs broken then? They’d say.

None of your business, she’d answer in that haughty tone of hers.

Nesta laughed at her own thoughts... But as she looked back at all those steps, her smile dropped. Nesta could only tip her head back and groan.

She’d chosen the apartment because it was the cheapest, yes, and she’d regretted it every day since. Not enough to move, but perhaps she was just too stubborn. Even when her sister had asked with that tone of hers why she lived there, or when the silence between them was enough of a proclamation that Feyre did not approve, Nesta held onto the apartment. Nesta held onto it like it belonged to her. Like she owned it and Nesta knew she owned nothing. The city might as well have been signed under Feyre Archeron and her insufferable mate—property owned and sold by the Night Court’s finest and Nesta was not ashamed to say the thought made her bitter.

Nesta could not run far enough away to escape her sister, and now her sister thought she owned her too.

She began the trek up, breathing through the burn of her thighs, trying to focus on the movements of her body rather than the berating voice of her mind, but the anger was a tight first pulling at her skull.

Forget them. They mean nothing to you, Nesta told herself.

You mean nothing to them, a voice whispered back.

She could only agree, and Nesta couldn’t help but lean over the railing. Four floors and then five, contemplating that height.

The only time she hadn’t regretted this apartment was when spring came in a flurry of rainstorms. She’d watched from her balcony window the rain pour down on the city below, gloomy and perturbed that her night of drinking had been postponed indefinitely. But when days had passed and the sun at last began to peek out once more, and she unashamedly ran to the nearest tavern, Nesta had caught a glimpse of that lone tree at the bottom. It had bloomed in magenta and white, it’s flowers swaying to a soft breeze.  

She’d gripped those rails and stood there, didn’t even know if she made it to the bar that day. Nesta had stayed there for hours looking at those colors—to each door, each floor thinking that the building itself bowed to that tree, protected it in its sacred embrace. Nesta, herself, had bowed to that tree that day as she leant over the railings.

She could imagine the petals still, the wind picking them up as if it might gift it to her. She’d wished for Elain then... hoped that she might come—forget what she said about her life being separate from theirs. But Elain never came... Elain never visited her once.

Now, Nesta thought, Elain didn’t deserve to see it at all.

The thought of her sister made her chest thrum with unsettled words—and Nesta chastised herself for her straying thoughts and that restless anger she didn’t know what to do with.

The summer had taken away the beauty of spring and there were no flowers left when the sun beat across the sweltering concrete and all Nesta knew for sure was that she was sweaty and exhausted, her chest heavy in a way that she usually only felt after a long night of drinking and getting nowhere. The stairs were usually a punishment then, a pain she’d only vaguely complain about the next day when she did it again, lugging herself up flight after flight.  

She supposed this was a punishment, too.

Nesta could see her door as she managed the last step and she could have flopped down right then and there, but she raised her chin instead because the stairs would not best her today.

Neither would her snooty sisters. Neither would her mind that wouldn’t stop thinking of them.

The surest way to forget, Nesta learned, was wheat, barley, and hops or whatever the tavern made ale with. She could practically hear the tumbling drunken voices as she walked to her door. She’d drink the memories away, music filling the space where her thoughts had once gathered. Let them return in the morning with the headache and the dry throat that would surely accompany like loyal friends—old friends that Nesta had begun to miss.

She fumbled with the lock on her door with that thirst in her throat, her mouth parched for the taste of it. The key jammed as she twisted it and Nesta shoved it harder in its slot.

“Are you serious?” She asked the door. The dingy, brown-painted wood did not reply and Nesta groaned as she kicked it. Nesta fiddled with the lock, turning the key over and over, slamming the door with her body, and when the lock would still not budge, she pointed to the door as she had to the King of Hybern. “Open up you blasted thing!”

Meow.

Nesta turned to the black shadow that poked its head out of the wall, clenching her fists at the interruption.

"Shoo,” she said as she waved her hand.

Meow, the cat sounded, tilting its ghostly head.

Nesta could make out no mouth or eyes and she didn’t know how she could hear its cry, but she’d stopped asking questions about the logic of the fae world the first weeks of becoming fae. It did her no good when she was hungover or tired... which were most days, and it was not the first time the little shadow cat seemed to come out of the walls and greet her at her door.

She pointed to the shadow merely wagging its tail like the arrows of a metronome. “At least you can get inside,” Nesta grumbled.

The shadow cat tilted its head as if contemplating her statement then rolled onto its back, offering its belly. Nesta didn’t know what solution that might have wrought so she ignored its luring movements.

“I’m allergic to cats,” she haughtily replied.

Nesta pulled the key from its slot and slammed it in once more. She wiggled it back and forth, her face feeling hot with frustration. The cat meowed louder as it jumped up, coming to rub itself against her leg.

Nesta raised her hands in defeat, sighing as the door stubbornly stayed closed.

“Fine,” she said, looking to the little shadow. “You win.”

The cat bobbed into her outstretched hand, and Nesta crouched low, scratching behind its ears. The shadow’s fur felt as soft as silk, and she wondered why it didn’t feel like air like she thought it should. The cat meowed again, and Nesta huffed. Attention hog, she thought, but the cat merely rubbed against her, purring sweetly.

“You know, you’re far less judgmental than most people I know,” she said. The cat flopped on its back again and Nesta went for its belly. The cat swatted her away with its paws. She swatted back, feeling herself smile lightly at its antics.

At the unconscious raise of her lips, Nesta frowned, but before she could contemplate the distraction, the little cat’s head stood at attention, its body stilling its lazy movements. The cat looked to the stairs and so did Nesta. She could hear the echo of concrete as someone took heavy steps.

When Nesta turned to the cat again, it was gone.  

“No music. No stomping. No parties. No recreational sports. No hobbies. No shouting!” The male shouted.

“What? No laughter?”

“Not if it’s loud,” Nesta’s landlord threatened. She could recognize the nasally tone, the footsteps when he went from apartment to apartment reminding them about rent, leaving notes on their door about policies. Why he frequently climbed those stairs on his own accord Nesta never knew.

But she took note of the feminine laughter, one she’d never heard before.

Nesta recognized all of her neighbors—knew what they looked like, how they talked, their routine on a regular basis. She watched them from her world above and occasionally they would say high, but mostly it was Nesta watching as they interacted in the world below. She didn’t care to know any of their names, she only wanted to know what level of bothersome they would be—what kind of threat.

This voice was new and they didn’t sound threatening, but Nesta knew that she would spend hours looking out of the little peep hole to see if she’d catch a glimpse of that unknown being who laughed as if her landlord was joking. He was not joking.

Nesta certainly wouldn’t stay outside to greet them. She didn't have it in herself to meet one more person who would just stare along with all the rest. As if she was some carnival attraction.

Come see the failure of Velaris. Some say she’s so hideous, she never comes down from that tower.

Nesta looked to her door, the key still stuck in its slot. She could hear them louder this time, their voices clear and ringing.

“No pets. No flags. No patio decorations. Nothing colorful...”

She twisted the key with reckless abandon, slamming herself quickly at the same time she pushed. The door opened easily and Nesta watched her landlord reach the top of the stairs as she shut it quickly.

The door clicked in place with a heavy thump.

Nesta didn’t look back out—didn’t move. She was almost afraid the stout male would be there breathing down the worn paint, some random fae trailing behind like death on her doorstep. She leaned against the door and tried to picture that tree again. The cat with silk-soft fur. The fizz of alcohol that floated to the top. The pop of a champagne bottle as if she had something to celebrate.

But when Nesta closed her eyes, she could only see a shadowy figure standing beyond that worn, thin door. Hovering over it as if it breathed on the back of her neck. Scythe in hand—the grim reaper yelling across its wood in sharp, distinct notes.

Nasal and high-pitched.

Where. Is. The. Rent?

~

Nesta left the windows open to air out the scent that Cassian had so graciously commented on the day before, and the room had become unbearable. The hot sticky sun of a mid-summer warmed her skin, and she kicked her blankets away, feeling as if she’d just bathed. Her hair stuck to her face, but she didn’t bother combing it away. It seemed that all Nesta could do was slouch back and stare at the ceiling.

She had stared at the ceiling all day, couldn’t stop staring at nothing until Nesta hoped it would just collapse on top of her. Popcorn ceiling constellation for wary, vindictive dreams. Not that she remembered many these days.

From her bedside window, she could see the sun had already begun to set on Velaris.

The window was another thing she liked about this place—that she could see the city without ever leaving her bed. She could see rooftops and the interweaving trees. Great twisting oak that she felt might come alive one day, grab her by one of its many branches and hoist her over the city to the sky above.

Nesta didn’t know what time it was. Most days she found herself having slept before realizing she’d ever laid down. She was always tired and just like yesterday and the day before, Nesta had slept to the buzz of cicadas, and she’d woken to crickets chirping. The sound so loud she thought they might be hidden in her cupboards.

But all Nesta could do was sigh...

Nothing much had changed. She was still in her apartment, could still see the endless amount of clothes strewn about, knew that there was nothing to eat in the pantry or the refrigerator.

The crickets chirped, and nothing changed.

Still, she felt different.

And she felt as if the world should look different, too. Rain, because something permanent had happened yesterday morning and the sky wanted to wash it away. The ground shaking instead of her body. The wind roaring instead of her words. But the sky was only dipped in peaches and purples, and the world was still.

The bed creaked as she tumbled out of it and Nesta kicked away the dress she’d worn that gathered at her feet. Maybe she’d burn it, too, because she didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be embarrassed... ashamed.

Maybe she’d keep it.

Because no person, thing, entity, or otherwise was going to take one more piece of her. She’d keep it like the memory of a risen middle finger. Like a power that hummed a furious tune.

For now, she’d throw the dress in the corner with the rest of the clothes and hope it took up space in a room that was mostly bare.

That was her apartment’s fault. It was too large, even without a bedroom. A studio Nesta couldn’t fill—didn't want to fill at the time. It was empty and it echoed as she walked. She didn't even have a dining room table. Only a bed that came with the place, a frame that was squeaky and rusted. Her dirty clothes and her shoes strewn about decorated the room, and she was okay with this...

Until he had wandered in.

Some part of her thought she ought to take a bath and wash the grime of the days away. Look somewhat decent. But the thought of him filled her with disgust. She would be decent for no one.

So Nesta went to the kitchen instead, tucked away in the far corner, where the cream-colored shelves sat studiously staring as if to say you haven’t opened us in a while. Nesta didn’t bother with them.

Nesta went to the refrigerator instead, reached above the tall contraption she’d found to be positively fae. Nothing existed quite like this where’d she lived most of her life. They’d had an icebox when it was winter, where they stored uncooked meat if Feyre had come home with excess. But that had rarely happened. In the fae world, it seemed, everything she found a luxury, was common and not worth speaking about.

Nesta reached for the cookie jar that sat at the top, its white hue dusty as she took it down. In it was her security and she couldn’t help but hold it to her chest.

In the beginning, when she’d first started frequenting taverns and hadn’t yet discovered the joys of sex and booze, Nesta was rather serious about cards. Mostly because she was good at playing and males were easy to fool. They’d stare at her breasts, try to make casual chit-chat, all the while Nesta was making bets. They were making their own bets too, of course, who’d go home with her, who’d she kiss in the back hall, feel her up where it was quieter, and the lights were dim. They didn't seem to mind losing money and Nesta certainly didn’t mind taking it.

She stored the bills and coins away in some random jar she’d found in the local grocery store. It was on sale, and it was the first thing she’d ever bought with money of her own.  

Nesta didn’t want to think on what they would call this money, but it was her money. She splayed the bills on the counter, piled up the coins, and when she was done counting, Nesta found she had just enough for next month’s rent... and maybe a grocery run if she’d budgeted well enough. It would have to last her—the groceries. Unless she found a job soon. She’d start looking today...

Tomorrow, she decided.

Today she’d clean herself up. Because tomorrow, she’d have to look presentable whether she wanted to or not. It was not about pride. It was about survival and Nesta had survived worse things than this.

So, who cares about them? Nesta thought. The only person who lives here is me.

~

Something her sister didn’t seem to realize was that getting drunk was free.

Most nights Nesta didn’t even have to buy her own drinks, and the only reason she did was because she’d knew her family would see it. She liked imagining the red of their faces, the clenched fists in which they held the bill. Making them angry seemed to spark some thrill in her that nothing else could replicate.

Now as she sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey in her hands, she almost felt annoyed. Not just because she couldn’t get drunk today, but because even if she did who would see it? Who would care?

Not that they did, anyways.

But she supposed all of them had won in that sense... and the idea that they won, that they had an advantage even now made Nesta want another drink.

“Can I get you another round?” The male asked, sidling up to her, placing his hand on her back.

Nesta didn’t spare him a glance, as she rocked her drink in her hand, “No.”

"You’ve been sipping on that drink since you got here.”

“You've been paying attention, how nice.” Nesta held up the half-finished glass, “I’m fine with this one.”

The male didn’t seem to get the hint as he sat at the stool next to her. He could have been beautiful or a disgrace, Nesta didn’t care. He could have been him and she still wouldn’t have looked.

The whiskey told her that was a lie.

“Come on, just one drink.” He lured, leaning into her. When the male didn’t capture her attention, she heard the slam of his glass on the table. She gave it a sidelong glance, where the liquid spilled on the counter. “What? You’re too proud to drink with someone as lowly as me? Lady Archeron.”

He sang the words, and at the title, Nesta shot him a glare, letting her powers glow through, “if you want to keep your tongue, I suggest getting away from me.”

The fae stepped back at the look.

Good, she thought. Smart. Nesta had no interest in blowing up the bottles stacked behind the bar, and she had no means to pay if it happened. If it happened, he’d have bigger things to worry about then her eyes glowing silver.

Nesta looked to the puddle forming where he’d slammed his drink and gave him another glare.

Leaving this mess? Who raised you?

A waitress huffed a laugh, and Nesta turned towards her. She couldn’t help the scowl she gave the female behind the bar, who took out a rag and wiped the counter clear. “What are you looking at?”

The female only gave her a smirk, humor dancing in her eyes.

Nesta gulped down the last of her drink, slamming the finished glass on the table like the male had done before. She took out a few coins, pushing them forward.

Tonight, she did not feel like another.

~

Finding a job was harder than she expected and Nesta spent most of the morning going from shop to shop asking if they had any availability for work.

Most of the stores had barely begun to open, and only a few gave her concrete answers. The little book shop—Nesta's first choice—had told her that the owner was away and wouldn’t be back for two weeks. The pastry shop, where Nesta might have been happy smelling the sweet scent of bread for hours and sneaking the tarts they’d displayed in the windows, had inquired about skills in which she had few.

By the time she made it back to her apartment, she felt the heavy weight of the rising sun and little more than disappointment settling on her shoulders. She was hungry, too. It seemed that job hunting worked up an appetite that only a job could satisfy, and Nesta could think of nothing that sounded remotely good to fill her.

Nesta had been like that lately. Always hungry. Never hungry enough... or perhaps too hungry to move and search for food in her pantry. Not that she had much in there besides dust bunnies.

She’d taken money out of the jar that morning, though her heart hurt with every silver coin. The bills, in their array of colors, Nesta hadn’t touched—wouldn’t dare if she wanted her rent paid next month. She couldn’t stop thinking about it... the looming sense of dread that accompanied her and her dwindling jar. Her stomach ached with it.

Still, she had enough for a bag of groceries, Nesta told herself... minus the coin for the drink. She shouldn’t have bought it. She should have let the male pay for it.

Nesta didn’t want to dwell as the guilt roared up her chest.

She had enough for some bread and butter, cheese and some fruit. Tea to tide her over. She let that fact comfort her. She didn’t need much. Afterall, she’d starved half her life. There was no difference in doing it now. Nothing new, Nesta decided.

For now, even as her nausea demanded she go home and hide behind her door where she could pretend it was safe, she’d buy a sweet bun for her effort and she would try to enjoy it, too.

There was a grocery store a street down from her apartment and trees lined the sidewalk. Nesta could make out the pinwheels poking out from the ground, rainbow colors spinning so fast she might have gotten dizzy starring at them for too long. Windchimes rang as she approached, and its soft music drifted past as if it were made of dreams. It made her envious. The little shop that could hear music made by the wind.

“Good morning!” An elderly male greeted her as he set down a box of oranges lined in neat rows. Nesta recognized him as one half of the couple who owned the store. She raised a hand in greeting but didn’t say a word instead jumbling past him and the ramshackle array of boxes. Reds and vibrant yellows. Bright greens and dark greens and something shaped like a star.

“Can I help you find anything?” He called, though Nesta had lost him between the shelves. The fae always asked her that as many times as she dared to show her face, and just like the many times before Nesta did not reply. She merely looked to the corner, already knowing its place, where the clear display casings were filled with buns and bread.

Nesta eyed her favorite immediately.

She took the tongs out of the encasing and felt her mouth water, her stomach grumbling its get on with it roar. She picked up the toasted brown, the bun dusted with powdered sugar. She ignored the other sweets trapped inside. Nesta hadn’t wanted to try any of the others. As soon as she’d first bitten into this one, she hadn’t wanted anything else.

She wanted nothing else, as she went to the counter, carrying that little bun wrapped in paper.

The male sidled up the register, clearing his throat as he smiled. Nesta only moved to get her coins and tried not to stare at his face. She didn’t care for the warmth it held.

Liar, she thought. Everyone in Velaris is a liar.

“That will be two silvermarks,” He replied cheerfully.

Nesta pulled out the two coins from her bag and felt her mouth pull into a frown.

Was a bun worth it? She asked herself. Two silvermarks for one bun that would last her only a moment. Apprehension welled up and her stomach twisted in greedy knots. But she set the coins on the counter anyway, the money rattling a harsh ring.

The male dipped his head politely, sliding the silver towards him. Nesta watched as he entered a button on his register and the till opened with a sharp ding.

“We appreciate your business,” he said at last. She nearly grimaced at how chipper he sounded, but he once more smiled warmly and Nesta’s brows furrowed.

Liar times two.

She didn’t note her goodbye even as he called for her to have a nice day and only when she was out of the shop did Nesta unwrap the bun she’d carefully held. She nearly moaned her pleasure as she bit into it. Her favorite part was the yellow custard at the center, and as she took a few more bites, she licked at the cream. Before she knew it the bun was half eaten and Nesta wrapped it once more in paper.

She’d save it. Savor it because it would be the last of them for a while.  

Nesta shuffled along as she walked back to her apartment, cradling the rest of the bun with care.  She blew at her hair that fell into her face, escaping from her braid. It stuck to her sweaty skin. She didn’t like how hot it was, how bright the sun shone, and as she entered the dome of her apartment building, Nesta could only think of getting back into her room, sleeping until it was night again.

No disruptions. No busybodies knocking on her door.

As she looked to the steps, Nesta sighed heavily. She could hear the noise of two little boys.

Oh, right.

“Ms. Nesta! Ms. Nesta!” They called, out of breath.

Nesta waited for them at the bottom of the stairs, but they were not coming from the floors above, but rather the pavilion. They passed that large swaying tree at the center, and Nesta stood straighter as they ran towards her.

“There's a ghost!” The oldest yelled.

“Come quick!” The youngest one said, grabbing on to the skirt of her dress. He pulled her forward and Nesta followed casually, not at all bothered by the notion of ghosts.

They had on matching blue shirts today. Jerseys of some sport Nesta knew nothing about. There were many teams in Velaris, she found, and she never knew if they were from a specific organization or just friends who went out in the world proclaiming that they fit together somehow. Nesta would never do such a thing.

She knew of one group who certainly would.

The youngest let go as he ran towards the laundry room. That was another thing that Nesta thought was strange. To wash clothes by spinning water and dry them using magic. Gods forbid, they hang one piece of cloth.

The boys stopped at the door and waited, and Nesta crossed her arms. “What’s wrong with it?”

“They think it’s haunted,” a voice said from behind.

Nesta turned to find the female leaning up against the tree. She recognized the voice—the light tilt of an accent.

Nesta eyed the fae, taking in the pink fuzzy slippers first. Bunnies, she thought. But Nesta’s gaze caught on the wings tucked so keenly behind her back.

Illyrian.

Nesta almost sighed out her displeasure.

“I gathered, after they said there were ghosts,” she replied.

“There are ghosts,” the eldest boy argued. He held up his hands. “Just wait.”

Nesta shrugged away the female and peered inside. White and dingy washers and dryers were stacked on top of one another. Dutiful soldiers all lined up on each wall. There was an old bubble gum machine at the farthest end that must have stopped working before she was born, because she saw no one ever use it when she came down. Granted Nesta didn’t do it often. But the number of gumballs didn’t seem any lower. It was rusted around the red base, and Nesta didn’t trust the age of the candy inside.  

There was nothing odd about this place, though. She didn’t feel anything off.

“There is no such thing as ghosts,” Nesta said, looking to the boys peering back into the laundry room. She refused to look once more at the female. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin, averted her eyes as she so often did—the way she was good at. Nesta could feel her stare any way.

“You have to believe us!”

“There’s a ghost Ms. Nesta.”

“Did you see a ghost?” Nesta asked, turning to the female who only shrugged a shoulder.

“I might have seen a shadow move around.”

Nesta almost gave her a glare.

“Wait look!”

“See!”

Both boys pointed to the room that began to be overrun by darkness. It reminded her of a shadowed cloud. It filled up the room like water in a bathtub, and Nesta stepped toward it, her brows furrowing as she reached a hand out to feel exactly what the substance was made of.

It felt soft as if she were running her hands down the back of some giant cat.

As if summoned by her thoughts alone, the shadow stepped out of the cloud.  

Meow.

Nesta rolled her eyes as it rubbed its body against her legs.

“It’s just the cat,” She mused.

The three of them merely looked at her as if she’d grown another arm.

Nesta crouched low; her hand held out scratch behind the little cat's ear. She’d forgotten she was holding the bun, and the cat seemed to smell it—to want it.

“Hey!” Nesta yelled, as the cat jumped on her shoulders. Nesta shifted the bun to the other hand, but it seemed to want to crawl down her arm, and she could feel the sharp claws sink into her skin.

“Stay away you mangy thing,” Nesta yelled in outrage. “Pay for your own!”  

The boys laughed, coming closer, petting the menace as the shadow cat purred.

Nesta looked for the female, but the Illyrian seemed to not find them interesting enough. She went back to perch on her tree, or whatever those with wings could do. She could already feel the touch of irritation. Of course, she’d be okay living on the fifth floor. She could fly easily up there without wasting a breath.

“You have a cat!” A voice yelled.

Nesta closed her eyes at the nasally tone.

Just. Her. Luck.  

“No,” the boys said in unison, but the landlord stormed towards them, all shrunken limbs and potted belly.

“I said no pets!” He raved.

“He’s not mine,” Nesta said even as she held it. The cat conveniently had not gotten off her shoulders. In fact, it seemed to want to lounge on them, and she hunched slightly at its claws on her back.

Her landlord sneered, “It sure looks like yours.”

“He’s been here since last fall.” Nesta tried for a haughtier tone, but she couldn’t very wall act arrogant when she couldn’t even stand straight. “He is not mine.”

The landlord wagged his finger, “Vagrant then. I’ll just ought to call the forest prowlers. They’ll tear right into him.”

Nesta blinked at that and she was sure the boys did, too.

“You can’t do that! He’s just a cat,” The oldest said.

“He’s not harming anyone,” The youngest argued. The child’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red and she watched as he clenched his fists while the oldest crossed his arms.

She had to admire them. When she was young, Nesta would have never been so bold. She learned to be bold after her mother had died, and it had done her no good in poverty. Nesta felt for them, felt for the cat—though she didn’t know what kind of creature could eat a shadow.

Nesta didn’t want to ask, but she held up her hand, feeling the regret already settle in her stomach.

“I lied. He is mine.”

Her landlord huffed as if he knew, but Nesta only gripped the cat as it came down her arms. She grasped it in the crook of her elbow. As its body dangled, its tail wagged lazily.

“Get rid of it, there are no pets allowed.”

“Unfortunately, it’s my brother-in-law's pet,” she said quickly, resisting the urge to gag at the phrase. “He told me to take care of it until he could take it back.”

The male paused at that. “Brother-in-law?”

Nesta hummed, “Brother-in-law. It was a gift for my sister, but... she’s allergic to cats. He’s looking to rehouse it. It seems he hasn’t found the right one yet.”

As the landlord sneered, opening and shutting his mouth, Nesta raised her chin. She felt the satisfaction thrum through her at the lie. She was good at making up stories. Perhaps she could find a job in lying through her teeth.

Nesta watched as he took a breath, his face dulling to a peach. She hoped that would be the end of it. She hoped that he’d never get the chance to ask her... brother-in-law... if the story was true. Nesta doubted he would do her any favors.

She didn’t want his favors.

In fact, she’d never mention him again.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge a pet deposit then. Nonrefundable. And of course, your rent is going to go up.”

Nesta dropped her custard bun.

“What?” She yelled. “Pets aren’t even allowed!"

“But as you have one, I’m going to have to change the terms of your lease. I’m sure your brother-in-law will have no problem fitting the bill as he’s done before.”

The little shadow cat meowed, wiggling in her arms. She set it down and Nesta watched as it disappeared back into the wall.

Good for nothing...

“You’ll have to keep it on a leash, too,” The male scowled, “I don’t want to break a leg going up the stairs because he’s running about.”

Nesta wanted to tell him that he could break more than just a leg.

“Oh, and make sure he isn't loud. I’d hate to have to terminate your lease early over a noise complaint.”

Her landlord smiled, dipping his head in a mocking bow as he went to yell at another neighbor coming down the stairs. The boys shirked away, looking to the laundry room again.  

Nesta could only kick at the bun at her feet. Now dusted in dirt.

~

Tagged: I’m sorry if you wanted to me tagged and I didn’t tag you. I’m horrible at tagging and you should never consider be reliable for this. I think I tagged everyone who has ever asked to be tagged in any of my random posts of fics. But that’s probably a lie. If you want off/on let me know. I will not be offended nor enthused. I will have only one list from now on. No individual fics. If you asked to be tagged, it’s for all fics. Be forewarned. I’m tired. I hate tag lists. 

@my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @valkyriae, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, 

~

Nesta’s... a little misanthropic. We’re going to beat that out of her through love and healing. 

Personal Anecdote: I put a magnolia tree because at my university there was one in this random place on campus that you couldn’t find unless you knew where the post office was and I was obsessed with sending my mom cards to tell her I was still alive (She lived in a different state). No one ever went there, I never saw more than a few people or maybe they didn’t even know the post office was there. It was tucked in between buildings and it was the definition of serendipity. Little freshman me would go there and sit under it and sometimes eat a taco lol (fried avocado and barbacoa) when I was finished with classes. It bloomed every spring for about three weeks and I yearned for those weeks. I worked so many jobs, took so many classes, but during those weeks the only thing that existed was a tree of magenta and white. I sometimes really miss it. 

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfiction #ignore acosf fanfic #vidalinav fic

[junicai]

apple-cinnamon.

| summary | Daeun and Jisung have a habit of staying in the studio after hours. 

| word count | 1.3k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. May 2019

| request | by @luviesgyu <3 // no. 29 “You’re comfy.”

Daeun bag strap was digging into her bare shoulder, the black duffle being weighed down by the half full bottle of water tucked into the front pocket and the large sweater that she’d peeled off midway through practice. 

She had left the practice room a couple of minutes ago with flushed cheeks and sweat sticking her hair to her forehead. Time always seems to escape her during dance practice between the mirrored walls and the music coming from wherever she’d tossed her phone after changing the song. 

 In reality, she had promised Chan that it was only going to be a quick run-through of her routines, but the clock read five minutes past nine by the time Daeun was flicking off the lights and shrugging her bag up onto her shoulder. 

The hallways of the company building were quiet, a Saturday evening where most of the staff had already signed out an hour or two earlier. Her shoes echoed as she strolled past the other practice rooms - only one other with the lights still on. 

A quick peek inside let Daeun catch a glimpse of a group of young teenage boys - no older than fifteen, she’d assume - and she quickly picked up the pace to scoot past the doorway before one of them caught sight of her snooping. 

Down another hallway and up one flight of stairs led Daeun to stop outside a door that was firmly tugged shut - the small window in the door covered by the blind that was pulled down. 

With a light cough she knocked twice, turning the handle to open the door and poking her head inside without waiting for a response. 

“Yo.” She greeted. 

Jisung startled with a yelp, swiveling around in the chair positioned in front of the desk across the room. “Yo!”

Daeun pushed the door open fully, inviting herself in and tossing her duffle onto one of the chairs in the corner of the room, seating herself into the one opposite. “It’s late.” 

“It is.” Jisung agreed. 

Neither of them made a move to get up from their seated positions. 

“Do you think you’re going to be here for much longer?” Daeun propped her chin up on her palm, tilting her head to the side. 

Pressing his lips together, Jisung scanned back over the screens that he was staring at prior to Daeun’s arrival. “Another hour or two, probably. I have something that I need to get down before I leave or else I’ll lose it.” 

Daeun nodded in understanding. One of the most frustrating things about writing was if you didn’t get your idea down somewhere fast enough, you’d never get it back. 

It’s the reason the backs of her hands are always covered in little pen scribbles - when the idea strikes, she’ll just jot it down somewhere on her arm and then it’s there in ink until she scrubs it off later that night. 

Minho’s scolded her on more than one occasion about ink poisoning, but the notes app in her phone simply doesn’t do it sometimes. 

“Do you want a hand with anything or can I take a nap?” Daeun had pushed herself more than she probably should have in her solo practice, and she was already beginning to feel the cramps manifesting in her upper quads.

“Can you grab me something from the vending machine downstairs?”

With a long suffering sigh, she pushed herself up from her comfortable position curled into the seat. “Yeah, sure. What do you want?” 

“Coffee?” Jisung turned back to face her with a hopeful look. 

Daeun levelled Jisung with a look, raising one eyebrow.

Deflating slightly, Jisung spun back to the screen. “Water works. And if they have one of those weird apple cinnamon bar things still - that too?” 

Leaning over to snatch her phone from the front pocket of her bag, Daeun patted Jisung’s head twice in agreement. 

“Sure thing, bubs.” 

Smiling brightly, Jisung thanked her as she left the room.

The vending machines were located outside the stairwell doors, so Daeun descended the single flight without much preamble - paying minimal attention to the ache in her thighs at the additional strain. 

The heavy fire doors were opened by pushing the metal bar across them middle inwards, and they swung open with a whoosh as Daeun stepped through. 

“Water, and an apple-cinnamon monstrosity. Right.” She muttered to herself, pressing the back of her phone to the touchpad to scan her staff card, the option screen flickering to life directly underneath. 

She quickly looked over the sparse selection left in the machine after a week of use, clicking A2 for a bottle of spring water and then D4 for the green packaged apple-cinnamon bar. 

Daeun shuddered as it fell out into the bottom and she fished it out. Really, she couldn’t understand how Jisung would willingly eat something like this. Apple she could understand, but cinnamon? She’d rather eat an entire durian, thank you very much. 

Climbing the stairs back up was more painful, and by the time she was shuffling into the studio again - her thighs were putting up a protest at the very idea of doing any more movement for the foreseeable future. 

“Here you go, my lord.” Daeun pegged the apple-cinnamon bar at Jisung’s head playfully, grinning when the boy spun around just in time for it to smack him in the chest. 

Jisung pouted up at her. “Stop bullying my food.” 

“I will when you stop having the tastebuds of a heathen.” Daeun replied, being courteous enough to set down the full bottle of water beside Jisung on the desk before resuming her previous position curled up in the chair.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, Jisung removing his headphones from the computer so Daeun could hear what he was working on.

They exchanged brief commentary and corrections over the hour and a bit that passed, but Daeun could feel her eyes beginning to droop as the adrenaline slowly burned out of her system. 

Jisung was still clicking away at the keyboard, making adjustments here and there when Daeun stood up and wandered over to his chair - dropping her head in the crook of his neck. 

Pulling back from the screen, he sniffed a laugh. “Hey?” 

“Mm, hi.” Daeun mumbled. 

“Comfy?” He teased, hand coming up to pat her head gently. 

“You’re very comfy.” She agreed, leaning more of her weight onto him.

Huffing a laugh through his nose, Jisung clicked off from the software he was using, saving down his work. “I can come back to that in the morning. Do you want to go home?”

Daeun pulled back, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes. “You done?” 

Jisung grinned. “No, not quite. But Chan hyung won’t be happy if you walk home alone, and he also won’t be happy if you sleep in one of those chairs. Again.” 

Daeun squinted a glare through her blurry eyes. “Nine times out of ten I fall asleep in this studio because of you.” 

“I know!” Jisung sounded far too chipper for - she flashed a glance at the clock in the corner of the room - a few minutes past eleven at night. “That’s why we’re going home now, and not in an hour.” 

Conceding to his logic, Daeun snagged her duffle from the other chair, only stopping to pull out the sweater and tug it on over herself. She’d cooled off immensely since practice, and the night air was going to be cold on her bare skin if she didn’t have another layer to act as a buffer.

“Shall we?” Jisung pushed open the door, beckoning her through as he switched off the lights.

“We shall.” Linking her arm through his, Daeun pulled him towards the elevators instead of the stairwell, despite the stairs being the shorter route. 

She wasn’t putting her legs through any more torture than necessary.

#*daeun.writings #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #stray kids additional member #stray kids 9th member #female kpop #female!kpop #stray kids female member #stray kids extra member #stray kids additions #kpop additions #kpop #kpop oc #stray kids female addition #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios

[supergirlimagine]

Who Knew pt.2

Hi! Thank you guys for all the cool new Requests I got! Def want to write some of those! My most requested was to write a Part two of a Story I wrote a while back! Sorry it Took me so long, I really hope that you guys like it! Lmk what you think and what else you wanna see! 

Thanks for all the love 

Who Knew pt.1 

It was way past her bedtime, Alex had to be up in the morning and shouldn’t stay up this late. God knows she needed the sleep. But these kind of things just keep you up, at least that’s what she'd tell herself. It had been about two weeks now since she had seen you in that Bar with that...guy. Two weeks since she had felt your lips on hers. Touching her Lips absently at the thought, as if she would find yours there. As if you were still with her and not God knows where, doing God knows what. But that wasn't her problem, right? She tried to help! She really did. Sure, knocking your Boyfriend out might have not been the best Plan, but who can blame her? The way he touched you, the way he- he tried to possess you. It truly disgusted her. And she offered you help! She told you to come Home with her that Night and that she would help out in any way she could. But you had refused. Your Pride was greater than your Pain, however even possible. You had scooped up your drunken and bruised excuse of a Boyfriend and stumbled with him out of the Alleyway, leaving one last glance over your shoulder as you rounded the corner. Walking out of view and out of Alex's Life. The brunette Feet frozen solid to the ground. Alcohol and Adrenaline pumping through her veins, her Lips feeling like yours again and her knuckles stinging. 

The worst thing? She couldn't even blame you. No, she couldn’t even be mad at you if she had the right to. Because she was the one who ended things this way. You were easy to love and easy to fall in love with. Alex, at the time,  was in love with you. Just..not enough. It was too soon and too fast and the feelings were too familiar to the ones she had with her Ex-Fiance. That alone was too good to be true, right? No one gets two great loves in the span of a short time. No, Maggie was her one shot at happiness and she ruined it. She wasn't allowed to walk around acting like she deserved more love from someone as caring and kind hearted as you. She started to feel her love for you run deeper each day, so she really had no other choice. What else was she supposed to do, other than to end it before it got too far and someone really got hurt. But she could see now, it was already too late for that, because someone had already gotten hurt. Lucky for her, it was the other Party. Alex knew that she subconsciously always kept you at Arm's length, because deep down she always knew it would end. That was Information unfortunately only one of you had, as you freely and childishly fell more and more into love. You feel hard, thinking someone would be there, ready to catch. She always knew that wasn’t going to be her, but having you around and unconditionally love her, just felt way too good to let go at that Time. And thats the fucked up Part. 

Alex tried in the days following the Incident to find you and to make contact with you, clearly seeing you were in trouble  and you needed help even though you would never accept it from her. Even with the help from Kara, you stayed hidden. That was, up until this Moment, when an unsure knock made Alex turn away from the city Lights through she was staring at though her window. It was late so she grabbed her Gun from under the sofa cushion and looked through the Peephole. Her breath caught when she saw you standing on the other side, looking over your shoulder and fidgeting. 

“(Y/N)...”, she breathed out and unlocked the door in a hurry, being scared to move her eyes away from the Peephole. The irrational fear that you'd be gone by the time she swung the Door open, growing with every Lock turning. 

But there you were. An oversized hoodie hanging off you and almost reaching your knees, your naked calves almost looking blue from the cold. You were holding a bag of your shoulder, the Hoodie covering up half your Face as you looked at each other in Silence for a beat just too long to be comfortable. 

“Can I come in, please?” , you sounded tired. 

“Oh..yeah, of course. Sorry, come in.”,  Alex stepped away and you moved past her and  inside, the Door locking behind you. Silence again. 

“I don't need anything from you. I’m sorry I’m showing up late and unannounced. I just need one Night”,  You spoke with your Back still turned to her.  Not ready for eye contact and then unpacking what you would find in them. 

“(Y/N)..I-”, Alex words were coming out shaky. 

“Alex. Please don't make me beg, don't make me explain. Please, I just need one Night. That's it. Ill be gone after that. That's all I'm asking for.”,  You turned around after you last word, trying your best to seem sure of yourself. 

Alex was shocked when she got a good look of you in the Living Room light. Your Eyes were bloodshot and puffy, half of your right eye and cheek were hiding under your Hoodie and Hair, but even then she could see the swelling and a dark bruise casting a shadow over that part of your Face. Your Hands looked cold with dried Blood between your Fingertips and bruised knuckles. She couldn't help but stare. The bag over your shoulder was actually hers. It was the same one you had packed all these Years ago. You didn't have one at the time she pretty much kicked you out of her Apartment and she let you have it. It looked worn out now, used up from moving around so much and probably never seeing the comfort of being packed away in a closet. It looked like it lived by the front Door, always ready to grab and be on the road again. 

You dropped the Bag on the floor with an exhausted exhale, which made Alex catch up with her Brain, which was still going a Million Miles an hour. 

“Yes”, she cleared her throat 

“Yes, of course. Uhm, let me get you something more comfortable to sleep in.” 

Your stance relaxed a little bit, grateful knowing you would be warm and safe at least for the Night. 

“Thank you.”, you avoided her eyes and sat down on the couch.

She came back with a set of clothing a little bit later, having left you a couple more Minutes to adjust yourself to the new and at the same time familiar sensation of being here. She laid the clothes down next to you and sat on the coffee table directly in front of you. Not having any answers was killing her, this was all just not right. 

“(Y/N)”

“I don't want to talk about it, ok? Like I said just one Night, you owe me that much”, your voice was harsh. Risky for someone who really needed the help right now, but you couldn't stop yourself. 

“Will you at least tell me if you are hurt. Please?” she tilted her head down, trying to catch your eyes. Silence. 

Alex reached out trying to hold your Face, to turn it and have a better look, but you wouldn't let her. Pulling away by moving down the cushion, away from her line of vision. Her hand still raised, she exhaled in defeat before dropping her Arm again. She got up without trying for eye contact again and poured you a glass of Water and grabbed some Tylenol from the Cabinet. She set it down on the Coffee Table and looked at you once again. You had the clothes in your lab now waiting for her to leave so that you could change and then silently cry yourself to sleep. You were exhausted. It took you a lot to swallow all your Pride to show up here, but you had no other choice. It was this or the Streets, knowing the Shelter was already closed at this time. 

“I don't know what happened to you and I am not pushing you for answers. I am just worried. Believe it or not, I care about you. A Lot. I just want you to be safe.”, she stooped to take a deep Breath.

You were listening, but not moving a Muscle. 

“Just..Please. (Y/N), please be here in the Morning. Just be here. Whatever you are fighting. I want to help.” She sounded sincere. 

All of this was in complete contrast to your last meeting. Which had been physical, passionate, full of surprise, suppressed anger and raw emotions. This was different, this was open and vulnerable. It was soft in the way that makes you forget all the bad stuff that ever happened and made you want to let go into the Person. Curl up and never let go. Yet, you stoped yourself. That's not what you came here for, not at all. You just needed to sleep. 

Silence, another beat. Alex started to walk toward her Bed, you heard her climbing up the steps and getting into Bed. She turned off the Light by her bedside, leaving you with the lamp in the living Room as the only source of Light. Sitting for another Moment, exhaustion overtook you once more, so you threw on the Sweats and switched out your oversized Hoodie for a clean Shirt. You grabbed a blanket from the basket next to the table, downed the glass of Water and turned the light off, laying your head on a pillow. 

“Yeah. I’ll be here. I promise.”, You spoke into the darkness, knowing she could hear you and that she was listening. 

Sleep overtook you in what felt you just seconds later. 

#supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl x reader #alex danvers #alex danvers imagine #alex danvers x reader #reader input #reader insert #kara danvers #song inspired

[tangledstarlight]

Number 15 for Juke ✨💕?

now. i'm sure you were expecting first time love confessions and honestly so was it so you can imagine my surprise when this is what i wrote instead! hope you like it!! 😊💜

15. drunkenly confessing feelings

50 cliche tropes and prompts!

“Are you sure you’re okay with him?” Reggie asks as he slings Alex’s arm over his shoulders, eyes darting over to where Willie has started trying to climb a lamppost with a wince.

“I think you’ve got your hands full with those two,” Julie laughs lightly as she turns away from the passenger side of her car where she’s just managed to get Luke to re-fasten his seatbelt, head resting against the headrest as he mumbles through the lyrics to another one bites the dust.

Alex is half asleep on his feet and Willie has made it a foot off the ground and Julie starts to question why she’s friends with them. And why she’d offered to pick them up after their impromptu night out.

But when Luke had rang her an hour earlier to ask they’d all sounded giddy and excited and just like they’d sing along loudly to the radio. Yet when she’d stopped outside the bar they’d been in, Alex had been close to crying over a photo of him and Willie, while Willie and Luke had been giggling to each other as they tried to jump over a fire hydrant as Reggie, bless his semi-sober heart, had been trying to corral them together.

Getting everyone into her car had been a whole other situation that involved bribes of food and promises that she wasn’t mad. And even then it had taken 10 minutes and a few glares from passers by.

“Yeah,” Reggie heaves a sigh, head knocking on top of where Alex has rested his on his shoulder, “Text when you two get in?”

“Of course. Let me know if we’re on for breakfast in the morning or not,” she grins, as she watches Willie slide down the lamppost and lets out a string of giggles.

“I’ll be waking them both up at 8am on the dot for pancakes,” Reggie grins, patting Alex’s shoulder with his free hand and stumbles a little as he walks over to Willie. Julie waits until the three of them have linked arms and are stumbling towards their apartment door.

She shakes her head with fond amusement that turns to mild annoyance when she turns back to her car to find Luke half hanging out the window and staring up at her with wide eyes.

“You better not have taken that seatbelt off,” she says, putting her palm against his forehead and pushing lightly to guide him back into the car.

“It beeps at me when I take it off,” Luke pouts, his head rolling across his shoulder to look at her as she climbs back into the car again. “And not a fun beep.”

“And what exactly is a ‘fun’ beep?” Part of her knows she’s not going to get a logical answer out of him right now, but the rest of her can’t help but engage. She loves all the different sides of Luke she’s gotten to see over the years, but she has a soft spot for drunk Luke and how he says whatever is on his mind without a thought.

“Y’know like, b-b-beeeeeeep,” he replies, lips quivering as he says it, spit flying at the centre console that she doesn’t even have time to tell him off for before he’s talking again, “Do you think I should grow a moustache?”

Julie watches as he pouts his lips again, crossing his eyes as he tries to look below his nose and can’t stop the laugh that bubbles past her lips.

“I love that,” Luke says, lips falling into a soppy smile as he looks at her and Julie raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Your laugh,” he says and his words are a little slurred, but not enough for her to miss the truth in them, “I love you too. You know that, right?”

She pauses with her seat belt hovering over her shoulder to turn her body more towards him, at his furrowed brow and anxious eyes. Julie shakes her head a little, a small smile on her lips and she learns across the middle of the car to press a quick kiss to the corner of his frown.

“Of course I know. We’ve been dating for 3 years, you do remember that right?”

As she pulls away Luke lets out a loud sigh, throwing his head back against the headrest and smiling at her, “I know.”

Julie thinks that’s the end of the conversation and finally clicks her belt into place and turns to start the engine when Luke’s voice interrupts her.

“You didn’t say it back,” he sing-songs, eyebrows furrowed more dramatically now but he can’t stop the way his lips are still stretched into a smile.

“I love you too,” she laughs, nose wrinkling at the way he lets out a whispered ‘yes’, as he closes his eyes and starts mumbling along to a song only he can hear. Then Julie finally starts the car and drives them home.

#ask #anon #*prompts #julie and the phantoms #juke #japt fics #yes i know ive not tagged any of these consitantly after the first 4 tags #im sorry. i never know what to tag prompts as???

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues — Prologue

word count: 1.8k

warnings: not any for this chapter

ship: Dousy, background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

okay y’all.. here it is. the first installment of my first LONG TERM SERIES!!!!!! ahhhh i’m so excited. literally i cant wait to continue this and see where it takes me. i have an idea and a few different planning sheets, but honestly i have no idea where exactly this will end up. i love each and single one of you <3 thank you for reading!! this is also posted on Ao3, and linked in the masterlist.

Daisy hated the sound of the bells at The Academy. Screeching, awful, way too loud, the bells were the bane of her existence. They all wore standard-issue watches from the lab that monitored vitals and gave them reminders, and also told the time, for god’s sake! Fitz had even modified hers so that she could play snake on the tiny watch face! There was no need for the bells to be so excruciatingly disruptive. Though, Daisy guessed, there were many things more tortuous than bells ringing every hour and fifteen minutes.

Daisy slowed to a jog, cutting her morning run short. The bright side to being a third-year was that you chose your schedule, for the most part, and that meant Daisy had a free first period for four out of five days of classes. She usually spent this free period getting an extra hour in at the gym, boxing or sparring with Mack or Bobbi, two fourth years that had reluctantly taken her under their wings, or sleeping in. She reserved sleeping in for especially rough nights where visions of ashes and earthquakes and lightning returned time and time again, no matter how many deep breaths she took or sheep she counted.

But this morning was not one of those mornings. She had been up before sunrise, a little before her usual alarm and silently headed out of her dorm for a run. It was humid this time of year on most Virginia mornings, but never so hot that it made Daisy feel as if she was being smothered. The cooler air chilled her sweaty skin, her chest rising and falling as she jogged up the three flights of steps to the second years’ dorms. Down one long hallway, and she arrived at her room.

Daisy had been given her own room at the start of last year, complete with poly-adaptic-proto-whatever panels, which she had painted a pastel shade of purple, to compliment the greens of her cacti and the dark purples and blacks of everything else in her room. Even May had agreed that the stark white was too ”psych wing” for a bedroom. Daisy was grateful for the space, but considering the panels and the private room were only necessary since...

She shuddered. Grabbing her shower caddy, Daisy set off to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, hoping no one else was spending a free first period at the dorms.

Her shoulder-length waves were wet from bouncing against her neck, and starting to become annoying now that the sweat had dried and was starting to itch. Picking the white tiled shower furthest away from the door, Daisy quickly turned the water on, checked the temperature, pulled her sports bra and shorts off and hopped into the shower. Shampoo, condition, soap body, rinse. Checking her watch, Daisy found that she had showered in record time, less than three minutes. After spending another five just enjoying the hot water, she hopped out and changed into her class clothes.

Dark purple leggings, Coulson’s grey vintage SHIELD tee and a pair of white running sneakers she had “borrowed” from Jemma completed her look. Passing the mirrors, Daisy tried not to glance at herself. If her hair was messy or her undereye bags a bit too dark, she didn’t want to know. Instead, she headed back to her room to pack her bag for the day.

SHIELD-issued laptop, extra hard drives and a charger, Advanced CS 3: Ethical Hacking: Theory and Application, Advanced CS 4: Secrets of The Coding Languages, Physics notebook, an essay that was three days late on some boring book about international laws, and her sparring gear were all thrown into the black bag. She gave a second glance at the Russian notebooks Bobbi had loaned to her, promising that she’d learn without taking the class. Oh well, she still had all of this term to start. Plus, would she ever really need more than the dirty words?

One look at the alarm clock that sat on her dark hardwood night table showed that she still had almost forty-five minutes before she had to be in the computer lab. Sitting down on her bed, Daisy ran a hand over the grey blanket May had given her.

Daisy’s relationship with May and Coulson had been something of a problem with other students when she first got here. Some had been okay with the obvious paternal love Coulson showed for Daisy, showing her around and checking up on her, scheduling lunch dates and reminding her of tests. May was more subtle, texting her links to tai chi videos when she noticed Daisy getting too stressed or letting Daisy do her own thing if she saw that she was overwhelmed. Of course, none of the other students knew her family history, what she had gone through just to realize that May and Coulson were more her parents than her biological father and mother could ever be. She would see them later today—May during field training and Coulson in between lectures in the canteen.

Daisy walked over to her window to open her blinds, staring out at the campus she had grown to love. The large brick buildings scattered around acres of the Virginia countryside; green fields meant for physical activities like sparring or obstacle courses, or simply basking in the weather to study or chat; the dorms—red brick and concrete melded together to upgrade and expand the charming style of previously-built homes.

Grabbing a protein bar, Daisy headed to the canteen to make a green smoothie (and maybe snatch a cup of joe before she had to listen to an hour-long lecture on the reason SHIELD must cooperate with the UN’s stupid rules at 7:30 in the morning). Smelling the pines and morning dew surrounding her, she smiled slightly. Maybe this term wouldn’t be so bad.

———————————————————————

Daniel Sousa was a man of honor. He was a man of great strength. Agent Daniel Sousa, previously Officer Daniel Sousa in the US Army, was a man who could fix his damn alarm clock on his own.

Just, not today. Or the day before.

So, Agent Daniel Sousa was now hurrying his way to class at The SHIELD Academy, books in hand and gym bag slung over his shoulders. Catching a glance at himself in the shiny glass doors of the bio-chem building, he groaned. He hadn’t even brushed his hair. And, looking down, he discovered he was wearing two different shoes.

This is the college experience everyone raves about, he thought bitterly. You see, Daniel Sousa had enlisted to the army straight out of high school, forgoing university. He climbed the ranks impressively quickly, earning his place as second-in-command and reconnaissance scout in the 28th Infantry Regiment. Unfortunately, after only four years in the army, Sousa was injured in the field, losing his leg and almost his life.

He came back to the US a war hero, and yet, he felt he wasn't finished. So, when a recruiter named Peggy Carter knocked on his door claiming to be from SHIELD (“Wow, you guys are still a thing?”), he leapt at the chance to continue fighti-...doing good. The Academy wasn’t exactly what he had bargained for, though. Trying to earn his B.A. and training to be an agent at the same time was grueling, but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

No, six different one hour and fifteen minute long classes plus mandatory physical therapy every day wasn’t going to break him. Learning how to be a communications agent and re-starting field training and catching up on general college education was no problem. Pressuring himself to be the best, to break the limits, to get past all his weaknesses was just another miniscule feather to add to the pile.

Unless his stupid alarm clock broke. Then yes, Agent Daniel Sousa would fail, buckle under the weight and be left on the floor to die.

Maybe he was being a bit dramatic.

One bunny-slippered right foot and a sneakered left leg carried him forward, propelled by a quickly chugged orange Celsius and his sheer will not to be late.

Daniel heard the late bell ring out, understanding that, on his first day of class, he would be counted late. It wasn’t like him, not at all. Especially when his first class was a refresher course on field tactics and covert strategy, something in which he was already aces.

He let out a sigh, slowing as he rounded the corner into the comms building. At the Academy, most buildings were grouped into categories: the cafeteria, gym and pool, and student resource building all to the south; the gun range, obstacle course, and specialized gym to the east; bio-chem labs, tech labs, and smaller rooms for lectures to the west; the computer labs and comms buildings right smack in the middle; and dorms to the north.

He swiped a key card with his driver’s license picture and student ID, unlocking the sliding doors that led to the computer labs. It was quicker to short cut through them than to walk around the building to the entrance closest to communications classrooms.

It wasn’t because he knew a certain broody brunette spent her mornings in the lab.

No, it wasn’t, because she wasn’t in her usual seat in the corner, typing away.

He slowly walked through the rows of computers, searching for a familiar black backpack. Nothing was there.

“Hey, Sousa,” an accented female voice called behind him. He whipped around to see who it was, feeling just a twinge of disappointment when Elena, or, as most people knew her, Yo-Yo, was leaning against the door frame. Yo-Yo, a fourth year operations trainee, who was very close with Daisy.

“Hey, Yo-Yo. Good morning,” he called, “I’m running a bit late.”

Elena checked her nails casually, “Way to state the obvious. You were running faster than I could trying to get here before the bell.”

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “Yeah…”

“Daisy’s running late today, too.”

Daniel looked around, pretending that hearing Daisy’s name didn’t make him want to smile. “Oh, of course. She’s usually here early.”

Elena nodded, chuckling a little at his response. She couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or just a bad liar. It was charming, really. “Right. See ya ‘round, Sousa!”

“See ya,” He replied. He thought he heard a quiet ‘Lovable nerds’ coming from the direction she left, but he couldn’t be sure.

And so, with a last look around the computer lab, Daniel set off to arrive late to May’s lecture.

———————————————————————

okay okay,,, what do y’all think?? like/reblog and let me know! it’s the best way to support writers and it only takes a second! stay tuned for more chapters!!

#academy blues #daisy johnson #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #dousy #daisy johnson x daniel sousa #timequake #daniel sousa #jemma simmons #leo fitz #fitzsimmons #philinda #philindaisy #ashby’s fics #marvels aos #au!

[oboevallis]

i hate you

not sure if this makes any sense, but i felt the need to post something since it’s been a hot minute, i hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe

“I hate you!” It was the last thing Amelia heard as her nephew slammed his bedroom door in her face. She knew she had to reprimand him but didn’t have the willpower to do so; Bailey was just a kid learning how to process emotions. She sighed and walked into her bedroom to cuddle her son, the only kid in the house who still seems to love her. The girls were just as indifferent towards her as Bailey was; the boy just didn’t suppress it.

“Auntie Amelia!” Zola rapped on the door, causing her aunt to sigh.

“Come in!”

“Are you aware Bailey is running away?” Zola asked matter of factly.

“Yep, he mentioned that.” A fight had erupted over him not wanted to join his Zoom class. Amelia knew there was more going on in his head, but her temper got the better of her, and he screamed at her to inform her that he was going to run away.

“You're the adult here! Make him stop!” Since Meredith had gone on the vent, Zola needed everyone to stay in the same place.

“He’s not going to run away.” Amelia chuckled lightly; standing up, grabbing the wrap to wrap her son around her tightly.

“He’s packing a bag!”

“I know, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. He’s not actually going to run away.”

“Well, when he runs away, don’t come crying to me.” Amelia tried to contain her laugh; that was a phrase Meredith would always use when advising the kids not to do something but did anyways. Zola left the room with a defiant huff, and Amelia waited until she heard a thumping on the stairs indicating Bailey's suitcase dragging on the hardwood steps

“Don’t follow me!” Bailey yelled, turning around when he noticed his aunt at the top of the stairs.

“I’m not, just getting a glass of water,” Amelia concluded as she trekked down the stairs supporting the baby’s back. Bailey entered the kitchen, shoving granola bars into his suitcase, glaring at his aunt whenever they locked eye contact.

“I’m leaving,” Bailey announced once he grabbed a water bottle.

“Alrighty then.” Amelia nodded as she paced around to keep her son from fussing. Bailey defiantly turned around and exited through the front door. The woman made her way to the front window to watch the boy walk down the driveway.

“What are we looking at?” Link asked, placing his hand on her lower back. “Is bailey running away?” His voice panicked, realizing the boy had a suitcase, making his way to the door, but was stopped when Amelia grabbed his arm.

“Don't.”

“Babe, he’s running away! We can just let him leave! He’s a kid!”

“Shh. Watch.” She pointed to the boy who turned around and hesitated mid driveway, making his way towards the big tree in the front yard and climbed up it.

“Oh.” Link sighed in relief.

“Just let him cool off, keep an eye on him, though.”

________________________________________

“He’s been in that tree all day.” Link said, astonished as he watched him from his spot on the couch. “He can barely sit still for an hour.” All-day, the two adults, took shifts watching the boy in the tree to assure no one took him or he ran off. “Shouldn’t we go get him? The sun is going down.”

“I’ll get him,” Amelia assured as she took the plate they set him aside out of the microwave. She slipped out the front door, and headed down the driveway. “Gosh, I’ve been worried about Bailey all day. He barely touched his breakfast, and he missed two meals. I hope he didn’t get hurt, traveling all on his own.” She could see Bailey from the corner of her eye, who was debating whether or not he should come down.

“I’m up here.” Bailey huffed; he wanted to stand his ground but couldn’t deny he was hungry for something other than granola bars.

“Oh, thank goodness! I’ve been worried about you all day!” The woman walked under the tree and looked up at her nephew.

“I don’t care.”

“Want your dinner?” She held the plate up, showing him it was his favorite meal; Bailey seemed to consider this and eventually climbed down the tree.

“Did you make this or Uncle Link?”

“I did.” Amelia smiled, passing the plate to him.

“Oh, no thanks.”

“What? It’s your favorite! Spaghetti and meatballs!”

“Not when you make it.” Bailey moved to climb up the tree again.

“Bailey, wait.” The boy turned around, crossing his arms. “Can we talk?”

“No.”

The woman sighed, sitting down to lean against the tree’s trunk.

“You know, when I was a kid, I ran away a lot.”

“You did?” The boy asked, surprised by his aunt’s confession.

“I would do what you did, except we had this treehouse that your dad helped build that I hid in.” Which wasn't entirely a lie, but when she was a teenager, she’d usually go somewhere to score.

“Who helped my dad build it?”

“Our dad, so your grandfather.” The two sat in silence for a while before Amelia realized what had upset her nephew. “After our dad died, Derek kinda stepped into his place. And I’d always get really upset cause it felt like he was trying to replace our dad. I eventually realized that he wasn’t trying to replace him. He was trying to help a little bit.”

“Hmm.” Bailey huffed, playing with a twig from the tree.

“I’m not trying to replace your mom, Bailey. I’m just trying to make sure you and your sisters are cared for and as happy as you can be. I love you guys so so so much, and I know how much your hurting, but you’ve gotta let me help.”

“Okay.” Bailey slowly nodded.

“Okay.” Amelia smiled, wrapping her arms tighter around the boy.

“I’m sorry. I was just- I miss my mom, and you do the things she does and I don’t like that, but am I gonna have to make up school?”

“I understand.” She held on the younger boys hand. “I’ll try to back off a bit, but I just want you to know I love you and your sisters so so much. And so does your mom, all she wants is for you to be happy and healthy and cared for. But yeah your gonna have to make school up.”The older woman chuckled, then picking up the forgotten plate of spaghetti. “Now let’s go get you another plate.” She gently patted the boys back signaling him to get up.

“I love you auntie Amelia.” Bailey smiled before he ran into the house.

________________________________________

“How’d you do that today?” Link asked as his girlfriend got settled on his chest.

“Do what?”

“With Bailey, you just knew he wasn’t gonna run away. I was freaking out when I saw him walking down the driveway with his suitcase.”

“I was Bailey. I was the angry kid who missed their parent so much.”

“Your gonna think I’m a terrible person if I say this.”

“I could never think that.” Amelia gave a reassuring smile.

“I need Meredith to get better. I love those kids, I really do, but-“

“They’re a lot.” The neurosurgeon finished.

“Yeah.” Link nodded in agreement. “They’re a lot. Baileys okay though, right?”

“He will be.” Amelia nodded,tracing her fingers over the mans chest. “I think what’s killing them is not being able to talk to her, they’re used to not seeing her often, between her work and their school, but they always got to talk to her on the phone before bedtime and between surgeries. But they can’t even have that now.”

“She’s gonna get better.” Link affirmed, needing it to be true. A knock on the door jarring them from their bubble.

“Auntie Amelia?” Ellis opened the door to reveal her teary face.

“Have a bad dream?” Amelia asked holding out her arms for the girl.

“Yeah.” Ellis squeaked out, climbing into the bed cuddling into her aunt.

“It was just a dream.” Amelia reassured, stroking the girls hair, starting to drift off herself. Ten minutes had gone by and Ellis was put cold.

“Imma go put her to bed.” Link whispered.

“No let her sleep in here, just for the night. She came to me; she’s been hating me for the last few days.”

“Babe, she's so tiny but she’s taking up half the bed.” Link gestured to the girl who was sprawled out on the bed, inching him off of it.

“Just for the night.”

“Just for the night.” Link smiled, running his hand on his nieces back.

“We should get one of these.”

“Scout’s barely five months old.” Amelia chuckled sleepily, struggling to stay awake.

“What about when Scout isn’t five months old anymore.”

“We’ll talk about it when it comes.” The neurosurgeon assured. “Now can we go to sleep?”

“We can go to sleep.” Link sighed in content as he watched his girlfriend succumbs to sleep.

______________________________________

“Oh.” Link sighed as he walked into their bedroom, to be met with his girlfriend and niece already fast asleep. It had been a week since Ellis had infiltrated their bed. He carefully lifted up the girl, jerking her awake, causing her to protest.

“No! I wanna sleep in here!”

“Link what are you doing?” Amelia groggily asked her boyfriend.

“Putting her in her bed.”

“No!” Ellis refused starting to kick her uncle.

“Ow!” Link groaned placing the girl back in the bed.

“Ellis you can’t kick.” Amelia reprimanded. “And you’ve gotta keep your voice down, you’re gonna wake up the baby.”

“It’s always about Scout!” Ellis yelled, running out of the room in tears. “No one loves me!”

“See what you did?” Amelia groaned, lifting herself out of bed.

“What! It was getting ridiculous, she’s way too old to be sleeping in our bed.”

“She’s six!”

“Amelia, have you realized I’ve been sleeping on the floor? She’s taking up the whole bed, even you are halfway off of it. And whens the last time we were able to have sex?”

“There it is, you just want sex.”

“No! That’s not what I meant.” He ran a stressful hand through his hair.

“I’m gonna go check on Ellis.” Amelia groaned, lifting herself up out of the bed. She quietly made her way to the younger girls room, to find it empty. Then she opened Zola’s door to find Ellis crying in her sisters arms, and Zola glaring at her aunt. “Babe, I’m sorry.” Amelia sat on the opposite side of the girl trying to console her, but was pushed away.

“I hate uncle Link.” Ellis informed her aunt, burying her face into her sisters chest.

“I’m really sorry, he’s just stressed. He’s not used to a kid crawling in bed with him, he’s never really been around kids before.”

“Mommy lets me sleep with her.”

“I know she does.” Amelia nodded, running her hand through the girls hair. “And I know you miss her, and she misses you kids soooooooo much.”

“When will she be home?”

“Soon, I hope. I know she’s fighting really hard.” Amelia sadly smiled, hoping what she was saying was true. “And I’m sorry if Link and I have been so busy with Scout, but babies need lots and lots of attention. I promise we didn’t forget about you, we both love you so much. Everyone here does, Zola, Bailey, Auntie Maggie, and your mom.”

“Yeah.” Zola agreed, adding her own insight. “I remember when you were a baby, and mommy had to spend so much time with you. So Bailey and I were kinda lonely, but Auntie Amelia was there. Mommy always makes sure we’re take care of so Uncle Link and Auntie Amelia are trying their best.”

“I’m sorry.” Ellis whispered.

“It’s okay, but you can’t throw a tantrum and kick and say mean things that’s not gonna help.”

“I really am sorry, I’ll apologize to uncle Link tomorrow when I’m not mad.” Ellis apologized once again as the neurosurgeon pulled the girl to lean on her chest. Zola moved herself in on the hug. “Thank you Zozo.” Amelia whispered.

Zola smiled up to her aunt, proud that someone recognized how good of a big sister she was.

________________________________________

“Amelia, I’m so sor-“ Link sat up immediately, having sat in their room feeling guiltily.

“It’s okay.” Amelia smiled, sitting in the bed next to him. “You’re hurting.”

“I- I’m just not used to so many kids all of the time. And I don’t get kids like you do, you just know everything and the extent of my capabilities are making Mac and cheese and being the fun guy.”

“I know, And this is new for you. You’ll catch on, and your not failing as being a dad and an uncle, because I know that’s what your trying to apply.”

“I really am sorry. Is Ellis okay.”

“Well, she hates you. But I think she’ll get over it if you push her on the swings tomorrow.” Amelia smirked.

“Wait she actually hates me?” Link asked, feeling his heart drop.

“Yeah, for right now at least.” Amelia laughed blatantly at his shocked look. “You have lots to learn about kids, she doesn’t actually hate you, she’s just upset and that’s how she’s processing it. You aren’t ready for the amount of times Scout’s gonna say he hates us.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Amelia pouted, before embracing her boyfriend in a hug.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #ellis shepherd #bailey shepherd #zola shepherd #scout lincoln

[delacyrose224]

Champagne Problems

-Pairing: bassist!Yoongi x OC

-Premise: Yoongi keeps to himself, but everything changes when he opens up to his best friend about his past.

-Genre: rock band!AU, angst with some fluff

-Word count: 2.8k

-Author's Note: This is a continuation of the Gold Rush universe! Each band member will get his own story based off a song on Taylor Swift's evermore album. This story revealed just how much of a soft spot I have for Yoongi...

“Are you sure you can’t come with?” Jungkook shoots Yoongi a sad look with his doe eyes.

“Yes, now shut up and go. Stop trying to guilt trip me with puppy dog eyes, suck it up and go be awkward with that girl you met. I can tell you think she’s cute, so go be gross and flirty somewhere else far from me, please,” Yoongi huffs as he loads equipment into the band’s van.

“Yeah, JK, leave him alone...he’s going to hang out with Olivia.” Jin emphasizes the last word with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Olivia’s more important than us anyway...even though we’ve known him longer. It’s fine, we’ll be fine.” He throws his hand against his forehead as if he’ll faint for emphasis.

Yoongi cuts a harsh side eye at Jin. “Yes, I am going to hang out with Olivia. I’ve had plans with her for a week now. You knew this. It’s not my fault if you forgot.”

Jin falters at this, his face softening into care for his oldest friend. “Yeah, I know. We’ll see you when you get home, okay?” Yoongi nods in affirmation.

“I’m taking the train there, make sure the equipment gets unloaded tonight. I don’t care what goo-goo eyes those two girls make at you, it needs to go in the spare room in our apartment.” Yoongi tosses the van keys at Jungkook, who catches them with ease.

“Aye, aye, captain!” Jungkook exclaims with a grin, opening the driver’s side door as Jin climbs into the passenger side.

Yoongi gives a small wave at his two friends as he turns to walk to the subway station nearest The Dynasty, the bar they had just played at. He didn’t mind that he was by himself, it would give him the time he needed to decompress after the show. He appreciated the attention that the band and their music got (after all, he had a hand in writing most of the songs), but he absolutely hated the attention of the crowd on himself. Jin and Jungkook ate it up-they were literally about to go meet two strangers from the show to eat and hang out. That could never be him. Yoongi stuck with the familiar. The familiar was safe. And Olivia was familiar.

He smiled softly to himself at the thought of Olivia...he had known her since college, where they had met when they were both dragged to a party they didn’t want to be at. They had bonded over their shared distaste for large gatherings of loud, drunk people, but their love for their friends that reveled in it.

Reminiscing had taken Yoongi all the way down to the subway platform, where he met the red line just as it was pulling in...a bit of good luck for once, he thought. He climbed on and found a seat off to the side where no one else was, and collapsed into it. He must be more tired than he thought.

As the train pulled out of the station, he found himself looking out the window. The red line was a train that went above ground, so he was able to stare at more than just gray tunnels. As skyscrapers and streetlights came into view, his mind started to wander. Last March. A night similar to this one, exactly a year ago. He had just finished playing Gold Rush’s first show, when his whole life fell apart. Promises of a future, shattered alongside his heart. He can feel his eyes starting to prick with tears, which he hates. Yoongi looks around, simultaneously grateful that no one else is around to see that he’s upset, but at the same time, if there were more people around, maybe he never would have gotten lost in his memories in the first place.

Before he can start internally chastising himself too much, the train pulls into his stop. He uses his black t-shirt to wipe at his eyes in what he hopes is a nonchalant way, then leaves the train car and heads up a set of stairs back into the city.

He doesn’t have to walk far before he’s at Olivia’s apartment, knocking on her door. She flings the door open wide, a smile on her face and a bottle of champagne in her hand. “Yoongi!! You came! Come on in.”

Yoongi follows her into her apartment and plops himself down on her couch and closes his eyes momentarily, feeling some of his stress dissipate. “Happy Anniversary!!” Olivia exclaims. At this, he jolts up, eyes flying open. He can feel how wild he must look with the way Olivia stares at him. But how does she know about the anniversary? She doesn’t know anything about that, right?

“...w-what do you mean?” he manages to stammer out, trying to gain some of his composure.

“The anniversary of Gold Rush’s first show?...you’ve been officially playing together for a year now! I remember the first show like it was yesterday, you were so nervous you thought you were going to throw up. And then Jungkook actually threw up after the show because he drank too much...anyway, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come out tonight, I had a work thing I couldn’t miss.” Olivia looks truly disappointed, like she would have rather been sweating in a gross bar at the show.

Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief. Of course, the anniversary of their first show. Why would it be anything else? “It’s okay, really,” he replies. “It worked out anyway, Jin and Jungkook met these two girls who came to the show, and they’re hanging out with them. Makes me feel less guilty when I’d rather be hanging out with you anyway.” He lets a small smile grace his features as he glances across the room at Olivia, but it disappears as his eyes fall on the champagne bottle that she’s placed on the living room table.

First world problems. Champagne problems, she’d called them. Not Olivia. Her. Yoongi can feel his eyes starting to swim with tears again, so quickly he doesn’t have time to hide the few that spill down his cheeks.

“...Yoongs? What’s wrong?” Olivia moves to sit beside him on the couch.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself again. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yoongs, the last time I saw you cry, it was in college when you found out that your aunt had passed away. So I’m gonna ask again...what’s wrong?” she reaches out and gently wipes his tears away with her thumb.

“Livvy…” he starts, unsure of exactly what to say.

“Just start at the beginning,” Olivia reassures him.

He sighs shakily. “Okay. Do you remember when I started dating Isabelle senior year?”

Olivia nods.

“Well, that’s the beginning.”

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

“...and everything was fine for a long time. Those first two years were everything. She was everything. Jin and Jungkook used to get so mad at me because I would bail out of band practice early all the time to go see her.” Yoongi hiccups as he continues talking. He’s stopped crying for the time being, but as he’d been telling the story, Olivia had opened the bottle of champagne and they had both been drinking straight from the bottle. Yoongi was a little tipsy, if he was being honest with himself...otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to get the entire story out of his mouth.

“Okay...so, everything was good. What happened?” Olivia looks over sideways at her best friend. They’d both thrown their heads back to look at the ceiling rather than look at each other to talk-Olivia knew Yoongi would never be able to fully share with them making eye contact. He looks over briefly, then back to the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“Well. I’m not sure exactly when things started to fall apart...I guess Isabelle started acting weird once she met my family. Jin and Jungkook didn’t care for her that much either, I never understood why. I know now they were just looking out for me. But in the moment, all I saw was her. She loved me, and I loved her. I wanted to marry her,” he breathes out softly, closing his eyes.

Olivia’s eyes widen. She and Yoongi had been friends when he dated Isabelle, but they hadn’t kept in close contact during that time. They were each trying to find their footing in the real world, moving into apartments, starting first jobs. Him entertaining the idea of marriage to anyone was news to her. She knew he was serious about his relationship to Isabelle, but not that serious.

Yoongi is still sitting with his eyes closed, face towards the ceiling. Try as he might, he can’t stop tears from falling for the third time that night. He hates how vulnerable he’s being, but maybe he can blame it on the champagne. Instead of wiping them away, Olivia watches the tears fall onto his t-shirt. Her heart feels like it’s being wrenched apart. Why did Yoongi never share any of this with her before? She should have been there for him. Did Jin and Jungkook know about all of this? Surely he’s told someone else. Slowly, she reaches out her hand and places it on top of Yoongi’s, squeezing gently.

At the sensation, he opens his eyes and looks over at Olivia. She always knows what to do or say. Or not say. He twists his palm upward to meet hers and intertwines their fingers together. It feels nice. He’s forgotten how pleasant human touch can be since he’s shut himself off from other people.

Olivia’s cheeks are dusted with pink, but she doesn’t pull her hand back. “Okay, so, you wanted to marry her. What stopped you?” She traces small circles with her thumb onto the back of Yoongi’s hand.

He leans forward and grabs the champagne bottle with his free hand, chugging quite a bit before he answers. “...she did.” he whispers, hardly loud enough to hear. “Last March, at our first show. You remember she came?” Olivia nods. She remembers, it had been one of the few times the two women had been in the same room.

“We went back to her apartment after the afterparty, once we all made sure Kook was fine after he got sick. I was planning on proposing in a much more planned out way, but I just remember looking at her once we got back to her place, and she was so beautiful. Even though she was sweaty from the show, even though we were both exhausted. I couldn’t help myself...I didn’t even have the ring with me, it was sitting at my apartment in my sock drawer. I just loved her so much.”

There’s a long pause. Olivia squeezes Yoongi’s hand again for reassurance. He continues to blankly stare at the ceiling at a loss for what to say next.

“Yoongs...c’mere.” He looks over at Olivia questioningly. She lets go of his hand and before he can protest the loss of contact, she gently places her hands on his shoulders, turning him and slowly lowering his head into her lap. He’s still staring at the ceiling, but also able to see Olivia. She begins to softly run her hands through his hair, tracing patterns onto his scalp every so often. Yoongi sighs contentedly and closes his eyes again.

“...I got down on one knee in her living room, and she stopped me. Before I could say one word. She just said, ‘Yoongi, I can’t.’ And that was it. She didn’t cry. She said she couldn’t do this, whatever this was. She said I deserved better than her. And then she asked me to leave. We never talked again.”

Suddenly he opens his eyes again. “I became a zombie after that...the only time I socialized with anyone was to go play shows, if that even counts. I was so rude for no reason to Kook and Jin, when they were just trying to help. I never even told them what happened. They didn’t know I proposed, they just thought we broke up.” Yoongi’s speech starts to speed up as the trainwreck he’s lived through for the past year plays in his head.

“I used to care so much...I closed myself off. I don’t think I feel emotions properly anymore. I can’t love anyone anymore. I haven’t told anyone about any of this until now, and it took a bottle of champagne to even do that, and you’re one of my best friends.” Yoongi sits up suddenly, motioning frantically at Olivia with his hands. He looks at her, holding eye contact for more than 10 seconds for the first time that night.

“...I think Isabelle broke me,” he breathes. Seeing the care emanating from Olivia’s gaze is what truly breaks him. He’s suddenly sobbing uncontrollably, shoulders heaving with the emotion that he’s held in for so long. Olivia pulls him into her embrace, where she simply holds him while he cries.

What he doesn’t see are the tears streaming down her face as well. She can’t believe that he’s held all of this in for this long, without telling anyone. That he felt like he couldn’t share this part of himself. She just wishes that he could understand how much she cares. How much she loves him. He deserves the world, not to feel this way.

After a few minutes, Yoongi leans back, wiping his eyes and trying to collect himself. It’s then that he notices the wet streaks running down Olivia’s cheeks.

“Livvy, what’s wrong?” he reaches up to gently wipe her cheeks with his thumbs. She inadvertently leans into the touch, sniffling softly. “Livvy...look at me.”

As she lifts her gaze to meet his, Yoongi is struck by how Olivia’s eyes seem to be glittering because of tears. How does she look so pretty even after crying? He’s sure he looks disgusting.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats.

“You deserve the world, Yoongi. I’m so sorry that Isabelle broke your heart, but she was right...you deserve so much better. More than anyone can give you, probably.” She says this while looking intently at her lap, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

At this statement, Yoongi stops. Memories of the past year run through his mind, each rapidly following the other. Who did he go to when Gold Rush lost their slot in Battle of the Bands? Olivia. Who did he vent to about Jin and Jungkook when they were fraying his last nerve? Olivia. Where did he go when he needed to destress? Olivia’s. Who made him feel safe? Olivia.

“...hey,” he whispers gently, taking Olivia’s hands in his. She looks up, tears still swimming in her eyes.

“Isabelle may have broken me...but I think someone’s been slowly putting me back together again without me even realizing it.” He smiles, intertwining their fingers and leaning his forehead against hers.

“...w-what?” Olivia stammers, barely loud enough to hear.

Yoongi laughs softly. “Livvy, I think...I think I’m in love with you, and I didn’t even know until right this minute.”

“Yoongs...I...I don’t…” she whispers. Yoongi gasps sharply, pulling away as fast as he can.

“Olivia...I’m so sorry. I misread everything, everything...forget this happened. I’ll leave, forget I said anything!” he scrambles to get off the couch as rapidly as humanly possible, cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Before he can get far, he’s being pulled back down onto the couch. Making eye contact with Olivia for longer than 10 seconds for the second time tonight, he tries to form an intelligible sentence with his brain. Before anything can come out of his mouth, Olivia’s lips come crashing down onto his.

Yoongi’s eyes widen impossibly, eyebrows raising to meet his bangs. As Olivia’s lips move against his, he stops thinking and sighs into the kiss almost imperceptibly. His hands move to her hips, pulling her as close as he can to himself...he never wants to let go if he can help it.

When the two break eventually break apart for air, Olivia chuckles. “What’s so funny?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I was just trying to tell you that I didn’t know what to say, not that I didn’t like you...way to jump to conclusions,” she giggles.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. We solved that miscommunication luckily,” he smirks.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” Olivia leans her head against Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi peers down at her, smiling as he wraps an arm around her.

“Yeah, I think we’ve been hanging out with Jin for too long.”

#yoongi x oc #suga x oc #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi #suga #bts one shot #bts rock band au #bts angst #bts fluff

[miceenscene]

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 2.3k / 9.8k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: canon-typical violence, lol does pining need a warning??

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Four: The Difference

It was as the hull door was slowly shutting behind them that Din realized he'd invited someone to join him on a semi-permanent basis.

It was as the hull door was slowly shutting behind them that Din realized he’d invited someone to join him on a semi-permanent basis.

He’d never done that before.

Ever.

Sometimes people were more passengers than quarry, but they never stayed before.

They always left.

Nia stayed.

It took some getting used to, having another person around.

Old habits had to be adjusted. His helmet now only came off in bed or the fresher.

Though once he did forget it till he was halfway across the hull, half-awake and scrounging through the ration bars to find the good ones. It took a boot scrape on the floor above him to remind him that there was another living thing aboard.

There was an undignified scramble back to the bed cubby, but the helmet was firmly in place before Nia appeared down the ladder.

Other habits were completely abandoned.

“Heading out?” Nia asked, looking up from her flight manual as the hull door dropped slowly open.

Din pulled a few hand grenades out of the armory and tucked them into his belt. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I’m coming with you.” She picked up her bo staff and the pistol that she’d taken from the Sergeant.

“There’s no need–”

“I’m not going to sit here and babysit an empty ship.”

“I work alone,” he hedged.

“You offered to help me. And since the only thing my mind seems to bother recalling is fighting, I’m sure as hell not going to let that slip out of my grasp too.” She crossed her arms and gave him a very obstinate look.

Out of habit, she got the usual treatment he gave people when they argued: silence.

It was laughably ineffective.

They just wound up staring at each other for several minutes in stubborn silence.

She’d stand there till the sun went down, he could feel it in his bones.

Call it a Match hunch, which did not technically exist but might as well have.

“Fine. But wherever I go, you go, understood?”

“Loud and clear.”

Her stubbornness didn’t stop once they were off the ship either.

A quarry got away from them for a full two days because they kept arguing about battlefield tactics.

They got the clawdite in the end. But only once they’d both apologized and made a new plan together.

And there was also the time she flew the ship without him.

Granted, he’d been knocked unconscious. And they did need to outrun the X-wings.

And for a woman who couldn’t remember where she was two moon cycles ago, she was a fair pilot.

If he didn’t care to use the ship ever again.

That dent in the hull wouldn’t come out no matter how many mechanics tried.

Even still, it seemed to take very little time at all before Nia’s presence was thoroughly expected and normal.

She seemed to… enjoy herself at times. And he did too, if he was honest.

Not that she wasn’t still deeply odd.

She spoke fluent mando’a, but fought like no Mandalorian he’d ever seen.

She could meditate for hours, and always seemed keenly aware of his exact location nearby when she did.

And then one evening, he came down from the flight deck, ready to climb into bed for some rest when he found her… contorted in the middle of the hull.

Her body was bent and stretched in ways he wasn’t previously aware that bodies could move.

Or at least move and still survive.

He watched as, without any hurry at all, she moved from one impossible pose to another; her breath and muscles in perfect control.

She could have made any of his old trainers proud with her self-mastery.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking his way.

His face heated under the helmet. He should have guessed this would be like her meditation.

“What are you doing?” he asked, moving to sit on a crate and pull off his boots.

She ended her routine by standing and bringing her hands pressed together in front of her chest and letting out one last long breath.

“I don’t know exactly. All I know is I feel restless if I don’t,” she said, turning around to face him. She patted his shoulder as she passed. “Sleep well.”

That happened often. Her touching him.

Even in the covert, even in his years of training back on Mandalore, no one had touched him so often.

And so casually too.

Like it was nothing at all for her to rest her arm on his shoulders as he demonstrated how to properly land the ship.

Or to sit so close to him when eating that her arm brushed his with every movement.

Maybe it was nothing at all to her.

But it was much more than nothing to him.

Her hands were all over him as she trained him in polearms, adjusting his grip, shifting the angle of his arms, urging him to relax the tension between his shoulder blades.

She held his hips to guide him through the weight transfer he kept overshooting, his face hot enough to melt his helmet clean off the entire time.

She quickly noticed how stiff he was around her. To his detriment.

He’d just been stepping around her in the flight deck.

Then suddenly a hand jabbed his rib cage.

He jumped, a strange noise cutting out of him as he did.

Nia broke immediately into a resounding laugh, pressing a hand to cover her mouth, doing a poor job of dampening the sound.

“I’m sorry!” she managed after a moment. “I–I didn’t know you’d… oh I’m s-sorry, Din.”

That was the first time he heard her laugh. It softened her blow considerably.

The second time he heard her laugh was when he retaliated two days later.

She leapt to the other side of the hull and was in a full fighting stance before she realized that he’d poked her.

Then she laughed again, making him laugh too, a smile beaming from under his helmet.

It happened somewhere when he wasn’t paying attention.

Somewhere between debating infiltration tactics and sparring, between knowing glances while Karga attempted to short-change them and long warm afternoons spent up in sniper’s nests, waiting for their quarry to return home…

She became his friend.

“I figured it out,” Nia said as she sat at the bar of a crowded cantina. She’d been sent in alone, semi-undercover as she was far less conspicuous than he was, to find their quarry. “An emergency induction tube. Then you can drink in bars with me and keep the helmet on.”

Outside in the alley, Din scoffed and spoke over the commlink in his helmet. “An emergency induction tube?”

“I have one now.”

He looked through the window to see her sip her drink through a straw. He chuckled then answered, “Still won’t work.”

She grunted, feigning annoyance. “‘Wherever you go, I go’ always seems to stop counting when it's time to relax.”

Under the helmet, he smiled.

“Do you have friends, Din?”

“What?” he asked over the commlink. Had he heard her right?

“I said, do you have friends? Been flying with you for a few months now, and I’m still waiting to meet them.”

“You met Ran and his crew.”

“You think Ranzar Malk and the rest of those criminals are your friends?” she asked, a little incredulously. “Didn’t Qin try to stab you during the last job?”

Technically, it was Xi’an who tried to stab him. “They’re… contacts.”

“So that’s a no on friends.”

He paused then said, “You’re my friend.”

Through the small vantage he had, he could see her smile down at her drink, eyes glancing just his way. His chest warmed.

“So one woman with a head like Corellian cheese. That’s… pretty good for a bounty hunter.”

“Same number you have right now.”

Her chuckle was low, sparking a single star burst high in his chest. “You have me there. Ah, found him. Target’s at the sabacc tables. I’ll flush him out into the alley.”

They had a good partnership. And he was happy to share most everything with her, what little amenities he could offer aboard The Razor Crest.

He didn’t realize she hadn’t been sleeping in the bed for weeks. Not until he came down from the flight deck early and found her curled in a corner of the hull, still using his cape as a blanket.

She didn’t seem to know where it had come from. And he certainly wasn’t going to inform her or take it back.

When he asked why she wasn’t using the bed, she said that it was his.

“It belongs to whoever’s sleeping,” he replied, firmly meaning it.

She took him at his word.

He hadn’t really been prepared, however, to crawl into the cubby after a long day and find that the whole space smelled like her soap.

She’d bought it in the first city they arrived in weeks back. Now it was all over his blankets.

Sea air. And wildflowers.

With the door to the cubby firmly shut, he slept with the helmet off that night…

And every night after, an unstoppable glow building in his chest.

Her memories, unfortunately, did not return. Or certainly not as fast as the droid made it seem like it would.

In several months, very little arrived.

Early childhood memories of Mandalore before the Great Purge. But no explanation of the control chip, or her skills.

She kept up a strong aloof appearance of her defect, but every so often, Din caught a glimpse of her despair hiding behind it.

They were in hyperspace, both working on small projects during the journey. He was outfitting one of his guns with a new scope, and Nia had taken to carving designs on her bo staff. It was turning into quite the fine weapon in her steady hands.

They’d been quietly working for a while when she started humming a low, slow tune. She didn’t even seem to be aware she was doing it.

Din looked up at her as her quiet song continued. Her curly dark hair twisted high on her head, back bowed over her staff in her lap as she deepend the etchings she’d done.

Her song wound back on itself and only then did she seem to realize what she’d been doing.

She looked up and sucked in a shaky gasp.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

She nodded, bottom lip quivering and eyes turning glassy. “My father used to sing that song,” she finally explained with a watery smile.

Though she couldn’t see, he smiled back, a tightness clenching high in his chest.

A bright fullness so wide it pushed out all the air in his lungs to make room.

He’d been feeling that a lot lately.

It wasn’t unpleasant, though it was annoying at times.

Especially when it showed up in the middle of a fight after Nia did something particularly skilled against her opponent.

It seemed to have no rhythm or source… besides her.

The galaxy was just different with her around.

It didn’t seem so soulless.

Perhaps because she noticed the small ignorable things.

Grabbing his arm to stop and watch street performers in a market he would have otherwise just passed through.

Pointing out the broad purple sweep of the planet’s rings through the night sky as they walked the quarry back to the ship.

Or perhaps because it was just simply nice to have someone around. Someone he enjoyed spending time with, someone who would have his back in danger, someone he trusted.

He knew what the star bursts high in his chest meant.

He wasn’t obtuse.

But there was a large difference between understanding and ready to admit, even just to himself.

Much less to her.

As for Nia, it took her several months to ask the inevitable.

He could feel her gearing up to ask something. Must be something pointed with how long her wind up was, nearly a full ration bar.

“Can I ask about your helmet?”

“No, you can’t wear it,” he answered, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning. He got a small smack on his arm for the answer, making him grin.

“I know that. I meant… your oath is to not show your face to another living being ever. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Not even your clan?”

He looked up now. “I don’t have a clan. I was a foundling.”

“But you could have one someday–unless that’s also part of the oath.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not part of it.”

Nia leaned forward, deadly serious. “So… say you have a spouse, or children, they’d never know your face?”

She sounded… sad, he realized after a moment.

He’d had plenty of questions about his helmet; it came with being a Mandalorian. But none before had ever looked at his helmet and seen tragedy.

Not even him.

“When I took the creed, I gave up my old life. The helmet is my face. That’s what it means to be Mandalorian.”

“But I knew my parents’ faces… and they were Mandalorian.”

No they weren’t, a voice not his own hissed in the back of his mind, nasty and cruel and he didn’t know where it had come from.

He shook his head. “I don’t know… but this is what I was taught. This Is The Way.”

She didn’t press it any further, but the quiet disagreement in her eyes stuck with him as he drifted to sleep, alone and helmetless in sea air and wildflowers.

Chapter 5: The Discovery

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[cyndecreativity]

FFVI - Deceit

Possible spoilers for FFVI - Set after The End.

---

Sabin shivered as the pub’s door shut out the cold behind him. A warm fire beckoned him from the left, but the bartender called from his right. He came for a purpose. He nodded to the barman as he shucked off his jacket and made his way across the room. Only a few customers littered the tables, too early in the day for drinking. As Sabin passed, he winced at the scent of one particularly miserable looking man. The bartender pulled a face for a short moment, though Sabin could not be sure if the target were him or the drunk.

“Afternoon, good sir.” Sabin climbed into a barstool and rested his jacket over the stool beside him.

“What can I get for ya?” Despite the stereotype, the man simply waited with his hands on the counter behind the bar.

Sabin glanced at the wall of liquor behind him. He’d never been one to indulge too much, especially not in alcohol. But he had a purpose. What would his brother do in this situation?

The bartender tilted his head, impatient.  “Ah, do you have any wines?”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Only sell those to my VIP clients. Unless you’re looking to spend?”

Sabin barely contained his frustration. He sighed sharply and tilted his head. “How much?”

Thick, greying eyebrows lowered as the man assessed Sabin. He leaned over the bar, glanced at the jacket, and straightened up. “Got a few options for ya. What’re you lookin’ for?”

Sabin closed his eyes. Goddess grant me strength. “Actually, I was looking for one particular gi-… bottle? Goes by- It’s called Nova?”

The bartender laughed openly, a sardonic guffaw, if it were possible. “That’s not available until tonight, young’n.”

Sabin rubbed his eyes, a heavy frustrated sigh escaping him. “How much to make it available now?”

A hand disappeared into the man’s salt and pepper beard. The curly hairs shifted and moved as he pondered. Sabin arched an angry brow. “40,000 Gil.”

“Fourty-!” Sabin hissed his surprise. He came here for a purpose. “Fine.” He fished out his wallet and began to rummage for the largest Gil bills.

The bartender raised his eyebrows. He apparently expected to deter the beefy man. Excitement took over as he waited for Sabin to find all the money to slap on the bar. “Upstairs, last door on the left.”

Sabin nodded with a disingenuous smile. How his brother had afforded this… service boggled him.

---

She groaned at her reflection. The makeup she needed to cover up her scars had gotten rarer as the world disintegrated outside. She might have to return to her old life if this kept up. Most clients didn’t care for her rugged look. A pain tugged at her chest, but she picked up the eyeliner pencil. He’s gone.

A knock startled her. Gemma knew her schedule. She shouldn’t have a knock this early. “Good morning! You might have the wrong room. Lenore is across the hall.”

She heard a few steps at the door, the man turning in place, and then he knocked again. “Sorry to bother you so early?” She rolled her eyes. “This is Miss Nova, correct?”

She sighed from her position in the closet attached to the room. “Yes, it is.”

The door to the room opened. She dropped her head with a heavy sigh.

The boots sounded much heavier than she expected. “Good. I’ve actually come to see you, miss.”

A memory stirred and her heart fluttered. He’s gone. She swallowed, her breath tremulous, and pushed the closet door, the weight of her clothes keeping it open just a crack. “Well, I’m not even indecent, so perhaps you could wait in there?”

A heavy sigh brought the sound of boots to the closet door. “Miss, please, I’m in a bit of a hurry-“

He pushed the door to the closet open. She pressed her lips together for a moment, her true frustration before she slapped on her salacious smirk.

The man squealed, his arms flung upward, his jacket obscuring her view. “I’m sorry!” He yanked the closet door closed, his large jacket swept into the closet with her.

She looked down to herself. She hadn’t yet been able to get her makeup on, but any normal man might find her enticing in her simple bra and panty. Her eyes closed. A virgin?

In her room, she heard the heavy boots pacing for a moment, then the rhythmic taps of running in place, or maybe martial arts? He grunted a few times. Perhaps to calm himself. If he had gotten this far, he had to have paid. Her eyes fell to his large jacket.

“That’s quite all right.” She scooped up the jacket and turned it around. A patch on one arm looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it. “Seeing as you’re in such a hurry.” She pulled the large man’s jacket around herself. “I suppose we should get started.”

She opened the closet door, the jacket draped around herself to reveal the slip of her flesh between the buttons. She raised her arm along the edge of the door, her head tilted to reveal her neck around the collar. Broad shoulders met her, a purplish tank tucked into white pants, tucked into a pair of boots. Ashy blonde hair stirred another memory, more pain in her chest, but she smirked in an effort to hide it. He turned arouned.

“I’ll be whate-“ All attempts to maintain her composure failed.

A familiar face, the same but somehow different, turned around to her. Blue eyes roamed over her atop crimson cheeks. Her arm dropped, her brow furrowed, as he rubbed a hand over his cropped hair to his ponytail, a slight little rat tail sticking out of the back of his head. He sighed and turned away, the big, meaty arm blocking her view of his facial features.

“I’m sorry, Miss Nova, there seems to be a misunderstanding here. I’m not… here for… the wine?” His eyes darted to her a few times as he spoke around his arm.

She pulled his jacket tight around her mostly naked body. Did he not remember her? Did he have amnesia again? “Then what are you here for?”

He cleared his throat, an attempt to calm himself. “I, uh…” His arm dropped. She studied his jawline. The same, but different. “I heard that you have a ticket to South Figaro. Is that right?”

The question threw her. She furrowed her brow. She had acquired that ticket as a gift from Gemma for her birthday. She never understood why he exchanged her birthday pay for that ticket, she’d never expressed an interest in it before, but she held onto it. She assumed he meant it as a thank you for her service, as a ticket to freedom, should she desire it.

“Who told you that?”

He waved a dismissive hand and wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed. “That’s… not really important. But you do have one, correct?”

Her body covered and a topic at hand, he seemed to have gained some level of control over himself. “I might. Why are you asking? Did you want to buy it?”

His brow furrowed. “Buy it?”

She nodded and stepped into the room. “What’s it worth to you?”

“It’s worth a great deal to me.” Her chest tightened. He’s gone.

She sighed and dropped into a chair at the table in the room. “Well, I suppose I could sell it. But I won’t go under what the going rate is.”

He looked genuinely confused. “You’d sell it?” Not excited.

She frowned. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “No! No. I was actually hoping to convince you to use it.”

Her brow lifted almost to her hairline. “Use it?” Her brow furrowed. “You want me to run away with you?”

He laughed and shook his head again. Her heart ached. “N-… Maybe? It’s a bit complicated.”

She set her jaw. “Or maybe you’re hoping to save me?”

His lips mushed, his eyes searching for a proper response. “No. Not that.”

He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. She looked to his hands; a fighter’s hand, rough and red on the knuckles, meaty calloused fingers.

“There’s…” He looked to the window. His brow furrowed. “An opportunity.” He looked back to her, his brow set in conviction. “I’m opening a bar in South Figaro and I need girls.”

She scoffed. “Not a very good liar.”

He sighed, found out. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told the truth.” He rubbed his forehead. “Fine. I want you to go to Figaro and I can’t tell you why. How do I make this happen?"

Her breath hitched as fear gripped her throat. She glanced to his bulging arms, the tan lines for knuckles across his fingers, and focused on his face. She struggled to keep herself calm, controlled. “You want a companion for the end of the world and I’m the one you chose?”

Confusion twisted up his face for a moment. He leaned back, hand at the back of his neck again. She waited, tense.

He drew a slow, calming breath. “Yeah, sure. What’ll it take?”

She narrowed her eyes at his stubbled jawline. “I suppose you’ll have to make it worth Gemma’s while. I work for him.”

He took a deep breath and she felt the tension in his sigh, watched his muscles work under the skin, watched his shoulders roll. “If I do, you’ll get on that boat tomorrow?”

She stiffened. “Tomorrow? You expect me to drop-“ If he convinced Gemma, he’d be her new boss. She weighed her words, calmed herself; there was no way. “You know what, sure.”

He nodded and stood. “Good. Gemma is the bartender?”

“Owner.” She confirmed.

His face twisted in disgust and he stepped for the door. He looked down at his arm, then back to her. The flush rose on his cheeks again, the color spreading to his ears. “You can… hold onto the jacket.”

She chuckled a bit as he scurried out the door.

---

The sea air tasted different after the End of the World. The wind whipped her hair around, stronger than before. She remembered it all, a distant nostalgia of something she knew would never return. Maybe someday, far into the future, the grass might grow green again, the water a bright and clear blue, but not today.

A grunt and thunk behind her pulled her attention. The blonde man from yesterday dropped her two trunks onto the dock. Part of her admired the way his muscles flexed, impressed that he had the strength to carry both, but she swallowed her work and looked to his face. He’s gone.

“That’s all you have?” He rubbed his hands together.

She nodded and held out his knapsack. “Are you offering to buy me more?”

He laughed and accepted the bag with a grateful nod. “Just making sure you don’t forget anything.”

A strained smile found her face. “Not things I’ll be missing.”

He looked confused for a moment. A slight shrug found his broad shoulders and he ambled his way toward the dockworkers, presumably to ensure her items were loaded onto the boat. She looked back to Nikeah, over the dirty houses with incomplete roofs, to the bar that had come to be her home for years. From the door spilled a group of people that she couldn’t quite make out, but the vibrant colors of their clothing meant one thing. She grinned and hurried back up the dock toward town.

“Nova!” One of the girls waved feverishly as Nova jogged back up the dock.

The man turned to watch the proceedings for a moment, then turned back to the worker. “Not too long now, Miss Nova!”

The girls all tittered and waved at him. He flushed a crimson they could see from their distance and hurried up the plank onto the ship.

Lenore, a redhead, one of the younger girls, slapped Nova on the shoulder. “Lucky~! You found yourself a patron. And he’s so handsome!”

Nova laughed once. “And he still hasn’t told me his name.” The girls all looked to her. “Thank you for coming to see me off, ladies.”

“We’ll miss you, you know.” A brunette shouted from behind the pack.

Lenore nodded. “I just hope that Gemma can find someone half as good to replace you.”

Nova smiled. She didn’t mean it. She nodded. “You girls remember what I taught you, hm? And make sure Gemma hires a better bodyguard.”

Lenore reached out to grab her hand. “You won’t forget us, will you?”

Nova looked to her hand. “Of course not.”

“And if he has a brother or something-“

Nova scoffed and ripped her hand from Lenore’s. “Take care of yourselves, girls.”

She tromped back toward the boat. She really expected more. They all competed for men in the bar, but she expected a sisterhood during the light of day. Lenore had come recently, still held the competition above all else. She earned more than the other girls and liked to flaunt it. Perhaps it was for the best that Nova had a patron. She hated it. She preferred monster hunting.

“Nova!” The brunette rushed after her.

Nova stopped and turned around. “Nimsy…”

Nimsy panted slightly and held out a medium roll of canvas. Nova took it carefully. “What’s this?”

Nimsy looked back to the girls, all waving as Lenore stepped back toward the pub, waving to a few men on the streets. The men glanced between each other and started to argue.

Nova took the canvas and started to unroll it. Nimsy wrung her hands. “It’s… it’s just a little something I had. Thought it might… help you remember us. Remember your time here. And, ah…” She trailed off, nervous.

Nova unfurled the roll to a half-finished collection of portraits stitched to the larger canvas, each face in various states of artistry. The complete ones, the oldest girls at the bar since Nimsy’s arrival. Lenore barely had lines painted for her features. Nova smiled, her eyes crinkled up with the rise of her cheeks.

“Nimsy, I didn’t know you had the talent.” Nova’s eyes continued to scan the faces.

Nimsy shrugged. “Not much use now, world being what it is.”

Nova looked up to her a moment, then back to the faces. “Well, I suppose this means I’ll have to bring my patron back again.”

Nimsy straightened. “What? Why?”

Nova rolled the canvas up as carefully as she could. “Well, for starters, your face isn’t here.” Nimsy gasped. “But mostly because not all of them are finished.”

Nimsy giggled and nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Nova hugged the roll to herself.

---

The sway of the ship, however slight, upset his balance. He had trained on solid ground, in a mountain, for years. The slight rocking of a large vessel should be nothing to him. And yet the kicks never landed where they should.

“Oi! That mast isn’t your bloody dummy!” The helmsman held on hand on the large spoked wheel behind him.

Sabin chuckled and bowed slightly. “Sorry!”

A girlish chuckle found him from the door to the cabins. He looked to the woman, Nova, and frowned. “What?”

She shrugged. He much appreciated her fully clothed, though he questioned her choice of a dress for their travel. She had insisted, still under the assumption that he was to be her “Patron”, whatever that meant. He assumed it meant something like the man that paid for Relm’s paintings, but she didn’t paint. A heat rose on his cheeks and he rolled his eyes – he was far too old to be getting flustered.

“What are you chuckling about?” He moved away from her onto the larger area of the deck.

She followed after him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought your enthusiasm was charming. I didn’t mean any offense.”

He growled and took up a stance in the middle of the empty deck. She stopped by the edge of the area. He waited for a moment, for her to say anything, for mockery or flirtations. When none came, he started through a training regimen.

He forgot her presence after a few punches. But he certainly did not have a clear mind. He attempted the kicks as best he could, but the rocking of the boat made it difficult. His master, Duncan, might’ve provided him with some manner of wisdom. He should visit him after this mess is concluded. Embarrassing, though, that he had managed to fight on airships and floating chunks of rock and high up in the clouds with a nihilistic God-creature, and the rock of a ship set him off balance.

“You’re very good.”

Her voice startled him. He looked back to her. “Thank you.”

She offered him a perky smile, meant to disarm him. It worked. He looked away quickly. “If I may.” She crossed the deck to him.

He stiffened at her approach. “You mean to teach me something?”

Her head pulled back, offended for a moment. She chuckled lightly and shook her head. “No, sir.” He clicked his teeth. “I don’t know how to address you.”

His brow lifted. His mouth dropped open and he pondered the events of the last day. Mirth bubbled up in his belly and he released a guffaw. “By the Gods, you’re right. I’m terribly sorry. I am Sabin R-“ He froze. Would she recognize the name?

She smiled, his laughter contagious, and waited. “Sabin?”

A slight noise escaped his throat. He nodded. “Yeah. Just Sabin.”

She placed a hand on his upper arm. He looked down to her, his eyes graced over her cleavage, and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks again. “It’s a pleasure, Sabin.”

He cleared his throat and backed away from her. “S-so how long have you had that ticket to Figaro, anyway?”

She furrowed her brow, confused, but retracted her hand. “Almost a year now, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He had simply grasped at a different topic but answering her question might tip her off to his true purpose. He furrowed his brow. How to salvage. He drifted to the edge of the boat and gazed out at the dull, grey waters.

“Is that why you chose me? Out of all the other girls?” She moved to stand beside him.

He looked to her. “What do you mean?”

She set her jaw and looked to the ocean. “I’ve never been very popular, even before working at that brothel. Was I just the cheapest option?”

He looked at her. Her shoulders squared, her jaw set, her gaze steel. A fighter at heart. He overheard what she told the girls, “remember what I taught you”. A smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, no… To be honest, you weren’t cheap.” He looked back to the sea and crossed his arms. “Though, in my defense, I’m not entirely sure what’s expensive or not anymore.”

A chuckle exploded from her tight jaw. “Economy went to shambles since the… everything.”

He hummed agreement.

“How did you manage to make your money, then?” She glanced to him, relaxed for the moment.

He tensed up again. “Ah… inherited it.” Not untrue, not really.

She hummed. “I’m surprised there was anything left for you to inherit.” She stiffened. “Though I am grateful.” She turned and smiled to him, all brightness and charm.

A mask.

Sabin had seen the same mask on his brother ever since they met up again. The End of the World had taken something from all of them, but Edgar, despite all his reassurances, felt them stronger than most. The Returners had found each other, each finding closure or purpose in the World of Ruin, in defeating Kefka again. Edgar did his best to become a monarch that the world could rely upon, and Sabin did his best to assist, but he could feel the sadness on him.

Sabiin uncrossed his arms. “Do you have a dream?”

The mask fell away, replaced with confusion. “I’m sorry?”

A noise escaped his throat. “Sorry, I got lost in thought.” He cleared his throat. “Now that you’re… here, you can ask for anything you want.” He smiled. “So? What do you want?”

Her brow furrowed and she looked down, finger to her lips. “You know, I’ve never given it much thought. I just assumed I’d be serving you.” Her eyes roamed his torso. “What is that you want, Sabin?”

His eyes unfocused at her seductive tone. He took a deep breath and turned away. “You’re not going to be… serving me. Not… like that.” A sound escaped her and he gestured nervously. “Not that you aren’t a… lovely… woman. Just that… I’m- I’m- It’s not why-“

Her hand found his arm again and he found her giggling. “That’s all right! We can take it slow.”

Frustration and embarrassment clawed at his mind. “No, you don’t- There’s been a misunderstanding. I-“

Rain hit his arm. He jerked back as rain dropped on her. Sabin checked the skies. Not a terrible storm, but rainclouds all the same. He gestured toward the lower decks and Nova rushed away. He thanked the Gods for the interruption.

---

She found him on the deck again, practicing the martial arts with a mastery she could only pray for. Despite his constant protestations over their short time knowing each other, she wondered when he would give in to take what he paid for. Despite her best efforts, she found him attractive, though the pain in her heart reminded her constantly as to why. He’s Gone.

“Oh! Nova.” He stood from his landing out of some flip. His wide grin spread to tug at her lips.

She waved to him. “Sabin. You’re looking better today.”

His brow lifted, but the grin spread wider. “Thank you! I feel better.”

She chuckled. “Mental health is just as important and physical health, eh?”

Teeth spread through the grin and he nodded. “Yes, thank you for the talk last night!” He walked toward her and gestured to the strip of fabric on the barrels beside her. “Did it help you sleep as well?” He grabbed the water skin under the towel and drank thirstily.

He practically dwarfed her in size, not just from his massive bulk, but his height. She blushed and her chest tightened. She wanted to answer him that No, memories still haunted her, but she smiled. “Of course. Though I might’ve slept better with you beside me.”

He spilled water from the skin on himself. He coughed a bit and wiped his face.

She sighed. “Why did you hire me if not for that?”

He cleared his throat. His eyes searched around the ship, over the water, the sky. Searching for some kind of lie, she had learned. “I need… a partner.”

One brow lifted. “Why hire a prostitute?”

His cheeks flushed at the word. “I heard… you used to… be a monster hunter. Before the… everything.” He chugged more water from the skin.

Her eyes narrowed. “Then how about you teach me a few of those moves, so that I might serve you properly.”

He lowered the waterskin, cheeks full, ponderous. He swallowed the water and nodded. “You know what? Sure. I’m no Duncan, but I am a Ki-“ He froze. “Keeeeee-ind man.” He jammed the stopper into the waterskin a little too hard. “You should probably put on some trousers or something, though.”

She laughed, incredulous. “Truly?” He nodded. “Well… I’ll see if I can find any.”

---

He heaved a relieved sigh as he stepped foot on the dock. He had barely gotten used to the rocking of the ship, if ever, and longed for the steadiness of ground. Behind him, Nova smiled, a bit more genuinely than she had at the beginning of the adventure. He turned around and offered her a hand to help her down. She took it graciously.

He smiled as she released his hand. “Okay, you stay here while I go hire some Chocobos.”

She started. “Chocobos? Where are we going?”

He tilted his head as he walked backward. “On an adventure!”

She looked uneasy but settled for his answer as he drifted further away.

Thankfully the Chocobo Rental had a cart. He checked in town if there were any deliveries for the castle and loaded them up as well. Nova, for her part, attempted to take their new load in stride, but she appeared confused and uneasy.

“Are you all right?” Sabin tossed a sack of X-Potions into the cart, his attention focused on Nova on the bench at the front.

She inhaled slowly. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but… I assumed you lived here. Or that… we would stay here for a while, at least.”

He grinned and dropped a box of tents into the cart, the last of the items. “No, I don’t live here. Did you want to stay? I suppose we could postpone the trip a bit.”

Her forehead scrunched up, at odds with whatever duties she thought she had and her comfort. Sabin frowned. Her face pulled tighter. He sighed. “Or are you afraid of what’s out there?”

She spun on him, surprised. The first time he had unsettled her since their meeting. Her eyes roamed the ground as she searched for an answer. He hopped up onto the driving bench. “Hey, Nova, it’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

Her hands closed tightly, that melancholy back behind her eyes. He reminded her of something, someone.

“You became my patron to be a partner, right? I should be beside you if battle comes.” A deflection?

He chuckled. “Well, do you want to stop by the arsenal? Get you some weapons and armor? I never did ask what your preferred method of combat was.”

She tilted her head at him. She looked down to her dress, chosen for their arrival and assumed tourism or home visit he gathered, and nodded. “Armor might do me good.”

A new wardrobe purchased, Sabin flicked the reins on the Chocobos. They whistled and proceeded on their way, ambling along the path that Sabin directed them toward. Beside him, Nova pressed on various spots of her new armor, a new leather piece not yet broken in, and frowned. He chuckled.

It took several minutes of her adjusting the armor before she groaned and started to fiddle with her chakram. She had migrated to them in the store, then refused to purchase them, instead focused on the lances at the front. When pressed, she eventually admitted that combat actually terrified her. She preferred ranged weaponry, to keep her distance from the monster. And her throw had atrophied over the years. He had slapped her on the back, causing her to stumble, and reassured her that she was perfectly fine and normal. It might take time, but she could regain her strength if she wanted, maybe even surpass her old limits. She thanked him, still uneasy, until he dropped a Bard’s Hat on her. A chuckle escaped her and he thanked her for being open with him.

Their passage through the desert took longer than he had wanted, but he found her prowess in combat much higher than she led him to believe. Either she had been purposely clumsy during their training sessions on the ship or she remembered more than she thought. He greatly appreciated her backup, always ready with a Potion of some kind, and her skill with the Chakram took out many enemies that attempted to attack him over the corpse of their pack mate.

They made camp about another day’s travel from the castle. He set up the chocobos with food and water and settled in by the bundle of sticks that Nova had managed to find along the way. She gazed at them, her eyes lost to the melancholy again. Sabin moved to sit beside her. She jolted at his presence and tossed a few more on the bundle. He stretched a hand to cast Fire, but caught himself. Thankfully, Nova seemed lost in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He moved to gather the flint and tinder.

She shook her head. “I don’t think even you have enough money for my thoughts.”

He paused before striking the materials together and looked to her. “That many, huh?”

The fire blazed to life in the reflection in her eyes. She blinked. “Missing someone, I guess.”

He tensed as he stored the rocks back in their pouch. His eyes roamed as he desperately thought of something to say.

“Oh! He’s… He’s gone. You have nothing to worry about.” She attempted a fake smile at him.

He settled back into the sand beside her. He knew. But he couldn’t let her know that. It had to be a surprise. For the both of them. He took a deep breath. “Wanna tell me about him anyway?”

Her brow furrowed. Her eyes closed. Her knees lifted toward her chin and she hugged her legs. “No. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I tell you about the men I’ve been with before and you get jealous and it poisons our relationship.” She looked to him, her eyes roaming his features again.

He felt the heat threaten his cheeks despite the warm desert air. He cleared his throat, startling one of the chocobos for a moment before being calmed by the other. He planted his feet on the sand and draped his arms over his knees. “You really should rein that in. I’ve told you already that I’m not interested in that with you.”

She looked away again. Silence filled the camp for several moments and she rested her forehead on her knees. He looked to her and rolled his eyes.

“I just… I don’t understand why you paid for me.” Her voice escaped quietly, meekly, through her tangle of limbs.

He reached over to slap a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll become clear tomorrow, I promise.”

---

Everything packed up, they made their way further into the desert. Her new employer, her not-patron, kept her in the dark. He had warned her, before they started this journey together, that he couldn’t tell her why he needed her to use that ticket to Figaro, but she didn’t realize what that truly meant.

The journey forced her to confront old memories, memories that she had attempted to lock away. The way he laughed, or smiled, or the way he looked with his hair down the few times she caught him after a bath. He looked and sounded so much like him. He’s Gone! She had to remind herself constantly. But it became harder and harder for her to accept that when his ghost fought beside her.

At least he never used magic. One thing about him had been his use of magic. He lit the fire under the bathing tub, lit the fire in the pub, used wind or ice to snuff them out. He’d even cast a healing magic or two before, when one of the girls got hurt by a client. She tried not to remember the times he had used magic to punish those clients that got out of line. But Sabin, at least, only ever used his fists. Nothing like him.

“There it is.” Sabin flicked the reins.

Nova lifted her eyes and in the distance, through the haze of heat distortion, she made out a castle, wiggling high over the desert. Her heart jumped. She stood on the wagon, hand on Sabin’s shoulder, and blocked the sun with the other. Sure enough, the castle remained, clearer the closer they got. Sabin laughed and the chocobos whistled.

“We’re heading there!?” She wheeled on him.

“Yup!” He beamed with the distinct look of a man happy to be heading home.

Couldn’t be. She shook her head. “Figaro Castle?”

He nodded. “The one and only. You know it?”

Her chest tightened. Uneven sand jostled the wagon, upsetting her balance. She fell to the bench beside Sabin. “I knew someone that did.”

Several minutes passed in silence as the castle loomed directly before them. Too many thoughts ravaged her mind to process any single one. Finally, she settled on one. “Why are we going there?”

His eyes roamed, his tell. He eventually gestured to the cargo. “Making a delivery.” He left it at that, a simple not-lie.

She sneered. “You’re still not a good liar.”

He chuckled nervously. “What! You think all these crates and barrels of stuff are for us?”

She leaned forward, chin on hand, elbow on knee. “No.”

Before her mind could process another question out, they made it to the castle.

“Ah! Sir, you’re back!” The guards jogged from the entrance to meet the chocobo and her not-patron respectively.

Sabin nodded and handed the reins to the guard. “Got some supplies from South Figaro that need unloading. Rented the ‘bos and the cart, so they’ll need to be returned. Any idea where Wellager is?”

The men moved to follow Sabin’s orders. “He should be in his office, sir. But you can never tell these days.”

Sabin jumped down from the cart and offered a hand to Nova. The guards paid her little mind. She took his hand and hopped down beside him. “Wellager?”

Sabin nodded and gestured for her to follow him. “Yeah, he’ll want to check in with me.”

Overloaded with confusion, she followed Sabin absently into the castle. She scanned her surroundings, not entirely taking what she saw, and dodged around random servants, guards, and technicians. Machines whirred in every exposed bit of wall, filling the building with a hum. Sabin travelled the halls with familiarity.

“Ah! There you are, Wellager!” Sabin waved at a man in the hall.

The man looked up from a stack of papers, large rolls of canvas tucked until one arm, a bucket of tools from the other. “Hm?”

Sabin jogged forward. “Ah, this is the surprise I sent you a letter about.” He tilted his head in what could only be described as an intimidating gesture.

Wellager, not intimidated, understood the meaning behind his words and nodded. “O-of course, sir.” He looked directly to Nova. “His- He’s down below right now, though, working on the machinery.”

Sabin nodded. “Did you make up a room for her?”

The man nodded and tilted his head. “Well, let’s have a look at her, hm?”

He thrust his items into Sabin’s large arms and stepped toward her. She took in his appearance, now free of his load. A blue and yellow turban with a gold circlet adorned his head and a bit of fabric to protect his neck from the sun, fancy pauldrons of blue and yellow with gold accents held up a cape that covered a set of armor. She swallowed hard and bowed to the man, unsure of the protocol and why Sabin had such a close relationship with the man. But then again, he did have money; perhaps a merchant adventurer then?

“Well, at least she has manners. Come, stand.” The man started to circle her, clearly assessing her.

Nova watched the man circle until he moved out of sight. She looked back to Sabin. “Are you… selling me to him?”

The man pulled up beside her and looked to Sabin. “Pardon?”

Sabin laughed, dropping all the items that Wellager had handed him, and moved to grab her arm rather forcefully. “Nothing, Chancellor. Don’t listen to her. I think it’s about time we found my brother, don’t you think?”

Her brow furrowed as Sabin pushed her down the hall away from the Chancellor. Her eyes widened. “Chancellor!?”

Sabin shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

The Chancellor called after them and scooped up all the scattered items on the floor.

Having wended their way through the castle to meet with the Chancellor, Nova had no idea where Sabin directed her to at high speed. She merely moved at his prodding. “You’re hurting me.” He yanked his hand back with apologies and continued to direct her through a door and down a set of stairs.

The sound of machinery grew ever louder as they descended into the pits of the castle. Figaro Castle had been famous long before the End for its ability to disappear into the sand, but to see it up close awed her. And nearly deafened her. She tried to turn back to Sabin to ask something, anything, and he shook his head. Behind them, she made out the green and red cape of the Chancellor following close behind.

They emerged through a door to a room with a huge metal piston, unmoving, as a group of men worked on the surrounding machinery, huge metal masks covering their faces.

“Ah, here we are!” Sabin shouted, though the noise level in the room had diminished greatly.

Each man lifted their head to reveal a set of large gloves protecting them from a rod that created sparks. A few of the men looked between each other and back to the pair. One man in particular dropped his rod and stood. The others looked to him and to each other again. He frantically removed the gloves to reveal blue tunic sleeves. The same urgency led his hands to pull at the back of the mask even as he lifted the front and together he worked the large metal mask off his face.

His face.

Nova felt her heart clench, her throat go dry, as he stepped over his equipment even as he dropped it. He surged forward, hair a sweaty mess against his face, eyes wide and just as beautiful, jaw cleanly shaven, an apron over his front. Even through her teary eyes, she recognized this man.

“Gerad!” She barely forced the word out, her body quivering, unable to process what she saw.

He panted as he moved to stand before her. His hands lifted toward her, hovered over her features, as if unable to believe she existed either. Sabin moved away to stand by the wall, arms crossed. She could almost make out his smug smile.

“There you are!” The Chancellor burst through the door behind her.

That broke whatever spell paralyzed the two. Gerad straightened up and his features affixed into a mask she did not recognize. He smiled, bowed his head every so slightly, his posture completely stiff and formal. He flashed her a smile, one he intended to be charming. “My lady, the engine room is no place for one such as you-“

She slapped him. Though she struggled to contain them, tears crept down her cheeks. He’s not gone! He had used her, cared for her, betrayed her, left her. She assumed he had died in this castle when the Crimson Robbers returned with their loot. She never received another letter. She had mourned him. And here he stood, alive and well, performing maintenance on the castle!

Gerad stumbled back from the blow, his face turned away, shocked. She saw a new scar on his neck. The other workers stiffened as he stood there. Sabin merely chuckled. The Chancellor gasped and hurried into the room to drop his items, ready to perform whatever duty required on her.

She watched Gerad’s eyes dim, harden. He kept his face away, allowing his cheek to redden. “I suppose I deserved that.” His eyes turned to her. “Unless you have more?”

She set her jaw. “I have plenty more, you bastard.”

The Chancellor advanced on her. “That is quite enough of that, young lady!”

Gerad reacted quickly to grab the man’s pauldron. “No, Wellager.”

The Chancellor spun on him. “But, Your Majesty-“

“What!?” Nova felt her mind break. She focused on Gerad. “WHAT?”

He inhaled slowly. “I see we have much to discuss.” He gestured back toward where he had been working. “Wellager, if you please.”

The Chancellor sighed heavily, obviously displeased with this turn of events, and moved to fiddle with the equipment Gerad had been working with. For his part, Gerad removed the oiled leather apron and hung it on a hook by Sabin. He glared daggers at the man that shared his face. Nova furrowed her brow. He had called him brother.

“Wait.” She pointed to Sabin. “You’re his brother?”

Gerad looked back to her, then to Sabin. “What did you do?”

Sabin raised his hands defensively. “I only did what I thought best.”

Gerad’s expression hardened, all angles, and he frowned. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Sabin growled as Gerad turned away to her. He softened almost immediately, but she felt the his melancholy. Her chest tightened as she fought her desire to comfort him, her feelings for him, with her anger and frustration at his betrayal.

He extended a hand toward her, one around his back. Formal. Royal. “If you will accompany me, my lady.” He gestured his hand toward the door.

She waited on the other side of the door and watched as he turned back to the room of workers in their strange equipment. “Gentlemen, if you would continue without me.” They all jolted, flustered, and returned to their sparks.

Gerad closed the door and nodded to her. “Thank you for waiting. Follow me, if you please.”

He did not wait for a response as he continued up the stairs. She glared at his back, the unkempt sweaty hair, familiar in an entirely different way to Sabin’s. The color had changed from when she knew him, but she knew the style, the way it frayed. She recognized his broad shoulders, knew what they looked like under the indigo fabric. Part of her begged to touch him, to return to that time, to that bed. She set her jaw and followed him.

He nodded absently to a few people as they made their way through the castle. He did not stop for any of them, apologizing briefly as he made his way by. They all glanced to her in confusion, but promised to address him later. He kept a hand at the small of his back as he walked, his posture upright, stiff. Formal. Royal.

Eventually he led her through what she assumed to be the throne room. Large, empty, a red carpet through the center with two ostentatious stairs in the back. He strode across without hesitation and through the back. Presumably into the King’s Chambers.

#fanfic #my writing #long post #edgar figaro #edgar roni figaro #edgar #ffvi #ff6 #final fantasy #final fantasy 6 #final fantasy vi #fanfiction #oc #original character #edgar/oc #please enjoy

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch 5: Ad Nauseam

Chapter Summary: It’s Mary’s first day at school, and it doesn’t go according to plan… Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So from here on in we dive into the GIFTED main story line so this contains SPOILERS for the film. If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. As a Lawyer I know how long the types of cases depicted in GIFTED can take, so for that reason I’ll be spreading the storyline over a number of Months, because I find that realistic and it also fits with how I want the story to go so…just roll with it!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4

September 2017

“Hey! Come on.” Frank sighed, knocking on the door that led into his bedroom where Mary was getting changed “Come on let’s move”.

“No” came the sullen reply

“Let me see.” he said a little more gently.

“No.”

“Come on, I made you a special breakfast.” Frank tried.

“You can't cook.” Mary replied, a snort in her voice. With a deep sigh Frank decided enough was enough.

“Hey, Mary, open up.” his voice was sterner and a few seconds later the door opened and Mary looked up at him. She was dressed in her new red summer dress with a white collar and blue and white flowers patterned all over it. She wore a filthy scowl on her face which Frank was trying really hard not to laugh at.

“You look beautiful.” he told her.

“I look like Disney character.” She seethed as she stormed past him. Frank watched her pass as the door to the room shut, gave a sigh and then followed her to the kitchen. She sat at the table, pulling the bowl of cereal to her as Frank set about making her lunch.

“Where's the special?” Mary suddenly said.

“What?” Frank asked, reaching up for a piece of kitchen roll to wipe a knife clean.

“You said you made me special breakfast.”

Frank leaned over and with his left hand turned the box of Special K round so Mary could see it. She rolled her eyes and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. Frank ignored her until she spoke again, her voice pleading.

“Please, don't make me go. You can keep home schooling me.”

“I've taught you everything I know” Frank replied, smearing peanut butter onto the bread in front of him.

“But I don't want to go.”

“Well... I don't want to go to work, but I do.” Frank shrugged as he fixed the sandwich together and reached for a zip-press bag to place it in.

“You don't go to work. You fix boats on the dock.”

“Okay, it's poor example.” he said, pulling the top of the bag open. “But you are still going.”

“But what about Fred?” Mary asked as Frank shimmied the sandwich into the bag and sealed it

“What about him?” Frank sighed

“You won't take care of him. You don't like cats.”

Well, she had him there. He really didn’t like cats. But Frank was ok. Frank wasn’t really a cat, he was more of a dog…

“I don't like two-eyed cats” Frank shrugged in reply “Fred is as you know, monocular.”

“Who's gonna throw him his ping pong ball?” Mary tried again.

“Fred's gonna be fine, no more argument, okay?” Frank sighed, looking at her as he pulled another sandwich bag from the box for his own. “We've discussed this ad nauseam.”

“What's an nauseam?” Mary frowned.

“You don't know?” Frank turned to look at her, leaning against the kitchen unit. “Looks like someone needs school.” Mary looked at him, an utterly filthy scowl on her face and he stared back. She sighed and turned back to her breakfast, hand propping her face up as her elbow rest on the table. Frank stood watching her whilst he threw some bread in the toaster. He felt bad, he really did but this was for the best. She needed to be normal. He felt his phone buzzing in his back pocket and, wiping his hands on his dirty work jeans, he pulled it out, smiling as he read the text from Fliss.

“Good luck with the whole School thing this morning. If she kicks off tell her no riding lesson on Saturday. Give me a call or swing by if you need me xx”

“I don’t need good luck I need a miracle, and a drink. Is 8am on a Monday too early for a beer?” he replied.

“Well, it’s afternoon somewhere in the world Sailor ;-) “

Gave a chuckle as he put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Mary who was watching him, a knowing look on her face.

“What?”

“I know that was Fliss.” she said.

“How?”

“Because you’re smiling, the way you always do when she messages you.” “Well we’re friends…we like talking to one another. Something you might understand after you make some at school.” She scowled at him again and he ignored her, shoving the last bit of his breakfast into his mouth before he looked at the clock.

“Finish up, it’s nearly time to go.”

With a grumble Mary ate another mouthful before she slid off her chair. Frank packed her lunch into her rucksack before he handed it to her. With another scowl she place her arms through the straps and then together they walked out of their home.

“Just remember that today, those kids in your class, they’ve probably haven’t learnt even half as much as you.” Frank said, looking at her as they walked down the path. “So try not to show off ok?” “I can’t even use what I do know?” “No I’m not saying that, just, don’t make it so obvious ok? It will make people ask questions about why you know so many things and...” “AM I not supposed to know them?”

“Honestly, no, you’re seven.” Frank shrugged. “But you’re smart, you know this.”

She remained quiet for a second before she sighed “Ok, I promise I won’t show off.”

They reach the end of the path and then walked across the grassy area between two of the other prefabs just in time for the bus to pull to a stop.

Frank watched Mary as she stood looking at it as the doors swung open.

“This is gonna be fun.” He said, watching the back of her head “You're gonna meet kids today that you’re gonna borrow money from for the rest of your life.”

She didn’t reply

“Come on.” he urged gently, gesturing her forward with his right arm, his tone somewhat softer. He watched her climb up the staps, his hands falling to his hips as he tried to think of something encouraging to say. “You’re gonna be great.”

She paused and looked back at him, her expression soft.

“You know, just...” He gave her a thumbs up, “I don't know. Try bein' a kid.”

Mary looked down as the school bus doors shut and Frank sighed. He watched her take a seat as the bus pulled off and then turned to head back to the house. He was running through his day in his head, he had a boat he needed to have a look at but didn’t think it was a major fix, few parts that type of thing. He could swing by Sandybrook later on, maybe, see if Fliss was free for an hour for lunch…

There was a rapping on a window and he stopped dead at the end of the path looking up. His eyes locking with Roberta’s as she gazed at him from out of her window. With a sigh of frustration he turned to his left and continued back towards his home another way.

“Frank! Frank, I know you hear me.” He let out an inward groan as he rolled his eyes, ignoring her completely. He walked in the door to his kitchen, shut it and then snapped the lock across to make a point. The point being ‘piss off and leave me alone’. He knew that making the point was, however, pointless because she’d just fucking unlock the door and walk in anyway. Like she always did. He grabbed the toast that had popped up whilst he had been out and threw it on a plate.

“Frank!” There was a juggle of the door handle and he turned to look at Roberta as she pulled out a set of keys.

Ignoring her completely he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee into it.

“There's still time for you to undo this nonsense. Go get in your car and go get that child.”

“Are you technically allowed to use these keys whenever you want?” He said to her, a little sarcastically as he passed her the mug. She took it from him

“How you can stand there...acting all calm and all of that making light out of this?” she asked as he took a bit of his toast “Now, go get her back before it's too late.”

“She gotta go out in the world.” Frank said as he began to tidy up the kitchen, placing the breakfast and lunch making items away “She has no friend her age, no social skills. She doesn’t know how to be a kid.”

Roberta merely watched him as he sighed and turned to face her, leaning his hip against the counter. “Two nights ago she told me that even if Germany bails out the Euro, there could still be worldwide depression.” He shook his head “I was staring at the celling for three hours.” he finished softly

Roberta wrinkled her nose a little and looked down at the floor as she shook her head softly. “I'm so worried.” she said gently, her voice cracking and it was then that Frank noticed her eyes were filling with tears. He knew she cared for Mary, she cared for him too even if she showed that less. And he got it, he did, he got exactly what she was worried about because hell, he felt the same. If people spotted Mary’s potential and then started digging it was going to cause a whole heap of ramifications. But he had to balance out the need to keep her ‘talents’ hidden and for her to have a normal life. He saw so many parallels between Mary and Diane, and frankly it scared the shit out of him. His mother had been overbearing, insisted that they were both home schooled, but when their Father had died Frank had rebelled. He’d gone out, fallen in with a  BMX riding, trouble making crowd (well, as much trouble as eight year olds could make…toilet papering houses, throwing stones at cars, that type of thing) basically stuck the middle finger up at his mother who had in the end conceded and he’d gone to school. But Diane…well, she’d been smothered and grown up so isolated with no social skills.

No, he wasn’t, he couldn’t let that happen to Mary.

He let out a sigh “Come on, Roberta. If you start crying, I will have to pretend to start crying.”

He watched as she nodded sadly.

“Hey.”

She looked up at him as he spoke.

“You know there's something you could be overlookin’.” he smiled “This could work out.”

“Maybe.” she agreed, with a slight nod and a smile “But if anybody takes that baby away...I'll smother you in yo sleep.” she warned him, her southern accent becoming stronger as she issued the threat “Morning, Fred.” she said to the cat who was led on the table. His tail swished as she rather viciously grabbed at her keys before she left the house.

With his fucking mug.

The sun was already warm and it wasn’t even 9 when Frank reached the dock, the rays bouncing off the crystal blue surface of the water. As he walked he applied a slight smearing of sunscreen to his neck, he knew that bore the brunt of the sun when he was outside and not in the lock up. Fliss had commented it on it the other day, and he had admitted  to her that when he’d gotten out of the shower the other day he noticed he was definitely sporting some amusing tan lines, both round the collar of his T-shirts and where the arms finished. It was always the same thought. Fliss had laughed, rolled up her sleeves to show him the same and pointed out it was why she spent as much time as she could on her days off by the pool trying to even it out.

Lying by the pool on a day off… Frank mused to himself, now there was a thought.

Whilst his mind was on Fliss, he pulled his phone out and dialed her number.

“Hey Frankie boy.” she greeted him “Did you manage to get her on the bus without a gun or…” Frank chuckled “It was surprisingly less trouble than I thought but…”

“You’re doing the right thing.” she assured him, and he had to smile at the fact she knew what he was pondering.

“Roberta doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Yeah, well, she’s worried but that doesn’t make her right.” Fliss said “Look, Mary is a kid. She needs to just, oh I dunno, live like a kid. You’ve done the right thing for both of you, Frank.”

“Thanks Fliss.” he smiled to himself “Think I just needed to hear that.” “Any time, look I gotta go, my 9 am is here.” “Ok, well, I thought if the invite was open I could swing by at lunch. I’ll grab us a sandwich on the way?”

“Sounds great.” Fliss said, “Just message me later.” “Sure, have a good morning Cowgirl.” She laughed “You too Sailor.”

He tucked the phone back in his pocketed and continued to head down the gangway, nodding to a few people before he hopped onto the white speed-boat he was working on, pulling the dust cover off the stripped down engine.

**** Two hours. It was a whole two hours before he got a phone call telling him to head into the school. He strode back to the house, quickly washed his hands and threw on a blue and red plaid button down over his grubby white t-shirt before he headed to go get the pain-in-the-ass.

After a number of apologies, Frank walked out of the Principal’s office with a groan. Mary skipped ahead of him, examining something in a cabinet but he placed his hand on her head and turned it in the direction she needed to walk. He pushed open the double doors, letting her go in front of him.

One hand between her shoulder he steered her away from the entrance to the school and was fishing in his pocket for his keys when he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me?”

He turned to see a slim, quite pretty brunette in a green and white dress hurrying towards him.

“Hi.” she said, raising her hand in greeting.

“Look it's my teacher.” Mary rolled her eyes as Frank slowed down.  “Probably wants to remind me what one plus one is.”

“Go to the car, okay?” he said, gently guiding her away with his hand.

“Hi” he repeated

“Hi.” Frank replied, removing his glasses and taking her extended hand in greeting.

“Sorry to yell at you and then chase you down.” she apologised.

“It's okay. Mary's teacher?” he asked, releasing her hand.

“Yes. I'm Bonnie Stevenson”

“Frank. How are you?” he said, and then before giving her chance to apologise he sighed “Sorry about today. She got little overexcited.” he gestured to the car as Mary climbed in “It's just first day jitters.”

“Sure, yeah.” Bonnie nodded, turning to look at Mary

“We are running a little bit late actually, so we gotta get going.” Frank said, late for what he had no idea, he hadn’t made that bit up yet.

“Okay, I don't even wanna talk about that.” Bonnie shook her head “I will keep you just a minute”

“Okay.”

“I think your daughter...I think Mary might be gifted.”

Shit.

“What?” Frank feigned surprise, quite well too so it seemed.

“Yeah, today in math, she answered some really, really complicated equations and…”

“Oh, no, no, no…” Frank held his hand out to stop her as she was gesticulating fastly with her own as she continued to speak. “No, that's...it's not gifted.”

“difficult questions that a seven year old would...”

“It's Trachtenberg.” Frank cut her off easily, he could deflect this.

“I’m sorry…” Bonnie laughed, folding her arms, looking at him, puzzled.

“Jakow Trachtenberg.” Frank nodded. “Spent seven years in a concentration camp. Developed a system to rapidly solve problems.” he gestured with the hand holding his keys “It's the Trachtenberg method.”

“But she’s…I mean...she's seven though.” Bonnie said, smiling slightly, her tone still surprised.

“I learned it when I was eight.” he said, smiling “Do I look gifted to you?”

Bonnie looked him up and down and dropped her head, smiling.

“It kinda went out of note since the invention of the calculator.” Frank continued, backing away from her as he spoke, “But I can still win a drink at the bar using it.” he smiled, opening his sunglasses out. “Sorry for today. Won't happen again.”

“Okay.” Bonnie nodded as Frank slid on his shades.

“Nice to meet you…Bonnie.” he said, remembering her name.

“Frank.” Bonnie nodded again.

He drove them home in silence. His only words being an instruction for her to go change into something suitable for an afternoon at the docks before he stepped into the kitchen and remembered his lunch arrangements. With a curse he pulled his phone out and gave Fliss a quick call.

**** Fliss’ morning had been fairly busy as well. She’d given two private lessons, worked one of her horses, mucked half the block out as it was a Monday, which meant that Ellis had the day off so she mucked in, and was now going through the bookings for the week. She’d been inundated this week with requests that she couldn’t accommodate, but was contemplating putting another lesson on to satisfy the demand. Bill had told her not to be stupid, she was already teaching 6 days a week and needed to let her staff shoulder some of the responsibility before she burnt out.

“Joanne?” she called. Joanna walked in and looked at Fliss.

“How do you fancy over for me completely on a Sunday?” she asked.

“Me?” Joanne frowned.

“Yeah.” Fliss nodded “You open up, close and can run a couple of Classes. You have your teaching qualifications. I can supervise the first two weeks or so and if you’re happy after that then you can take the day completely, take 20% of the earnings as an extra. What do you say?”

“Fliss, I’d, well, I don’t know what to say!” Joanne grinned “Yeah, yeah I’d love to!”

“Good.” Fliss smiled “There’s a list of clients here, you can call back after lunch and offer them a time slot to suit you on Sunday, have a think about a lesson plan for groups and then…” “Thanks Fliss. “ Joanne smiled “This means a lot.” “You’ve earned it.” Fliss smiled “You’ve been a perfect head groom these last 6 months. Keep going and…well, we’ll see where we end up!”

Joanne beamed and nodded, heading back out onto the yard.

Fliss took a deep breath. She had spent so much of her life not in control of her career or home life, doing as she was told by John, when she was told to do it or suffer the consequences of a beating, that she had gone the complete opposite way when she had taken grasp of her own life. Her business was run by her with military precision. Bill did the books for her, but other than that she arranged everything. She was a control freak, she knew that so stepping away 1 day a week might seem like a little step to other people but to her it was a huge one. Bill had reminded her the other night that the idea had been that eventually Fliss would have a manager running the place for her which meant she could turn up to provided lessons and ride when needed. She was a long way off that yet though, but this one day off was a little progress.

Her phone started ringing and she reached over to pick it up, smiling when she saw the number.

“Two calls before noon!” Fliss grinned “I’m honoured”

“Unfortunately I’m calling to cancel lunch.” Frank sighed.

Fliss was surprised she felt disappointed. “Oh, it’s no issue.” She said, pulling a face. “Is everything alright.

“No.” he replied bluntly.

“Mary?”

“How did you guess?” he gave a low chuckle.

“She’s normally your source of your trouble. What has she done?”

“Apparently she stood up in class, and shouted at the principal to, and I quote ‘get on your phone and call Frank and tell him to get me out of here.’ I mean…”

Fliss bit back a laugh. It shouldn’t be funny, but she could picture Mary’s angry face and her arms folded across her chest. Despite her best attempts an amused snort escaped her.

“It’s not funny.” Frank deadpanned

“I know, I’m sorry but…“ Fliss cleared he throat, forcing herself to become serious.

“You now I wasn’t a perfect kid but I’m pretty sure I never got thrown out before lunchtime on my first day.” Frank sighed.

“She’s not been thrown out…just told to go home early” Fliss countered

“Well I brushed it off as first day excitement but the teacher was digging into how smart she is and…”

“Look, try not to worry.” Fliss soothed, sensing the tone of panic in his voice “Just try talking to Mary You always get the best out of her when you explain things to her.”

“Yeah, look, I better go…I need to get back to the boat yard.”

“No problem. Take care, and, just…well, listen to her Frank.”

“Yeah, bye Fliss.”

Fliss placed her phone down on her desk, and bit her lip. The morning had started off reasonably well too. She knew Frank well enough now to know that his frustration with Mary was born out of simply wanting the absolute best for her, and he was completely focused on making that happen even if Mary was not happy about it.

Fliss tapped her nails absentmindedly on the desk, trying to think of ways she could help. But other than talk to Mary, as she had encouraged Frank to do, she was stumped.

Nope, Fliss didn’t envy Frank one bit.

*****

“For the record, I didn't wanna go to the stupid school in the first place.”  Mary rambled on as she perched on a cool box, blue sun hat perched on her face as Frank finally finished his work on the engine, screwing the cover back on “And the boy in the front row acts inappropriately for someone who's a child.”

“Sorry. I'm still passively aggressively ignoring you.” he said without looking up.

“Other kids answer questions, they don't get in trouble.” Mary continued to protest.

“You didn't get in trouble for answering the questions.” Frank looked at her, still turning the screw driver, his voice taking on a tone of exasperation. “You yelled at the principal.”

Mary looked at him, shrugging.

“All right, you know what? You're gonna find this interesting.” he said, stepping back slightly, tossing the screwdriver onto one of the seats as he made his way to the cockpit of the boat “So I googled" first graders who yelled at the principal". And statistically you will never believe how many kids do it.”

He started working his way through the checks as Mary answered

“How many?”

“None.” he shot back over his shoulder as he fired up the boat, revving it slightly. He heard Mary’s footsteps as she ran down the side of the boat and stopped.

“Frank, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.” she said leaning over the edge to look at him.

“Yeah, right.” he said, shaking his head before he turned to look at her “You can't show off like that in school.”

“I know.”

“You promised you wouldn't then the first day...”

“I know, I screwed up.”

Frank looked at her, he could see she was genuinely contrite. Her head was dropped slightly. He watched her for a moment before he nodded and looked back out of the water before she spoke again.

“Do you think this boat needs a test ride?”

He looked back at her as she grinned up at him, the gap where her two top teeth had fallen out serving as a reminder as to just how young she damned well was. Like he could ever forget that, mind. Frank looked down and shoved his glasses back as they slipped down his nose and with a sigh he gave in, the way he normally did when she pulled those puppy dog eyes on him.

“Go get, Fred.”

She smiled and jumped up.

“Don't run!” he called after her, watching as she slowed to a walk for a few strides, before running anyway. He shook his head, smiling to himself at her blatant disregard for his order.

She appeared a little while later and Frank got her settled in the seat of the boat with a life vest and a blanket covering her legs, it could get a little nippy on the water for Mary, not that it bothered him.

“Ready?” he asked

She gave him a thumbs up and he pulled the boat out of the spot and headed slowly out of the harbour. Once on the open water he sped up, relishing the feel of the wind in his hair. He felt at peace on the water, something about it soothed his soul. He drove them to a stretch of beach they knew and loved, a quiet one and he drove the boat into the shallow water before he shucked off his shoes and socks, rolled his jeans up and jumped down, pushing it up onto the sand.

“Alright short stack…” he smiled as Mary grinned and stood up. She shucked off her life vest and he lifted her out of the boat before passing Fred over. He hopped back in, grabbed the parasol and a fold out chair, passing her a bucket and spade, all of which he had thrown on the boat whilst she’d headed off to get Fred, before they made their way up the beach.

Mary soon set off, digging about in the sand and collecting shells, like a normal kid her age should do and Frank settled down to watch her, occasionally glancing out into the ocean, spotting every so often the ripple of the resident pod of dolphins as they broke surface lazily. Mary was splashing around in the shallow pools on the beach, Fred by her side before she looked up and came running towards him, jumping on his knee as the birds flew down to inspect what the tide had washed in.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she smiled, shifting around to get comfortable. “Fred loves to watch the sandpipers.”

Fred gave a meow as if to confirm what she was saying and Frank looked down at the cat as it lounged in the shade.

“He thinks he'd like to catch one, but he'd regret it.” she continued “Fred's not a killer. He's a lover.”

She gave a sigh and leaned back into him, her back resting against his chest and Frank moved his arms as she took his left hand in both of hers, gently looking at his palm and playing with his fingers.

“Would my mom want me to go to this school?” she asked.

“I can only guess.” Frank replied, honestly “But I will tell you that she would have wanted you to have friends.”

“Idiot friends?”  Mary said, almost groaning.

“She'd want you to have compassion for others.” Frank tilted his head so he was looking down at the side of her face “Like a cat can have for a sandpiper.”

Mary paused and shifted slightly, looking down a little “But what if they don't like me?” she asked softly.

And God, if that didn’t break his heart! He swallowed and took a moment, before he looked at her.

Then they're idiots.” he said simply, and in his mind it was the truth.

Mary didn’t reply, instead she leaned back, her head on his shoulder and Frank gently wrapped his arms further around her, patting her stomach gently. They both sat in silence for a bit, Mary gently tickling the back of his hands with her own. He was just thinking about telling her they really should get back, when he felt her sit up.

“Hey, is that Fliss?”                                

Frank frowned and looked at her, “Where?”

“There, look.” He followed where she was pointing and squinted slightly. There was a woman riding a chestnut horse a little further down the beach, and it certainly looked like Fliss.

“Hang on…” Frank pulled out his phone. He dialled Fliss and as he watched he saw the woman pause and reach into her boot to retriever her phone.

“Hey…” she greeted him.

“Turn to your left.”

There was a pause and then as she did so the two of the waved. Fliss laughed.

“Be right there…”

She placed the phone back in her boot and then kicked the horse into a gallop. It sped over the sand, kicking up spray as it went and Mary giggled and jumped off Frank’s knee as she approached.

“Hi!” she beamed down at them as she pulled the horse to a stop. Frank stood up and smiled at her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Had to take the speedboat for a test drive.” Frank shrugged.

“Test sail.” Fliss countered.

“Whatever.” Frank rolled his eyes as Mary was busy stroking Heidi’s face. “What about you?”

“Oh had a spare afternoon so decide to load her majesty up and come down here.” she smiled “It’s nice and quiet. Sometimes I see the dolphins too.” Frank noticed the way her face lit up as she said that, and he smiled.

“They’re even better up close.” Mary grinned.

“Well, one day maybe I’ll get the chance” Fliss smiled.

“I still owe you a ride.” Frank smiled and she grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Fliss grinned, “And speaking of rides…” she looked at Mary and gestured to the horse.

Frank took a deep breath “seriously?”

“Come on.” Fliss said “She’ll be safe, I trust this horse with my life.” Mary, suddenly realising what was being said looked to Frank, her eyes sparkling.

“Fine…” Frank sighed, shaking his head “But drop her and I’ll kill you.”

“What do you take me for?” Fliss scoffed, removing her hat and handing it to Mary. Once she was seated in front of her Fliss held her tightly, one arm around her waist, the other in the reins and told Mary to hang on. She set off slowly at first and then with a grin kicked the horse on into a slow canter, and steered towards the sea.

“Shit…” Frank muttered, his heart in his mouth as the both cantered through the waves, the spray kicking up behind them. He could hear Mary’s shouting and laughing as it echoed up the beach. They went a little distance away before Fliss slowed down to a walk, Heidi continuing along her path steadily.

“So, I hear school wasn’t great?” Fliss said as they turned and made their way back at a slower pace.

“No.” Mary shrugged “Frank got mad.”

“Did you apologise?”

“Yeah…its ok now.” Mary shrugged “I just didn’t like it. And I don’t think they liked me.” Fliss took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you a secret, when I first started riding, the other kids didn’t like me either.” “Really?” Mary turned to face her as they wandered back, gently swaying with the horses motions.

“Nope, I came from a different back ground to them. We weren’t rich, I mean my mum and dad have money now but we didn’t always.”

“So what happened?” “I kept going.” Fliss said gently “And then I met a friend, a girl called Charlotte. She was the same. Her family sold all their belongings so she could pursue her dream.”

Heidi slowed to a stop by Frank but Fliss continued to talk “And we became good friends, and we worked hard. She did dressage, I did show-jumping. And we both grew up together, and encouraged each other, and we made the teams.”

“Are you still friends now?” “Yeah, I still talk to her now, I don’t see her as much but…” Fliss took a deep breath, the thought of the past still a bit painful. “The point is Mary, if you go in thinking that everyone is against you then believe me, it will seem that way. Maybe you should think about having an open mind and giving this a go, yeah?”

Franks eyes were hidden behind his glasses and at that moment he was kind of glad, because for some reason, there was a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes as he had observed his niece and Fliss together, the woman simply talking to Mary.

Mary pondered for a moment before she sighed “I suppose…”

Fliss smiled “Good, you’ll be glad you did.”

Mary shrugged “Maybe. Hey, you know what ad nauseam means?”

Fliss frowned and looked up as Frank gave a laugh “It means indefinitely, never ending…forever, why?” she looked at Mary. “Oh, something Frank said I’d learn at school but I didn’t.” she shrugged “But now I know, thanks.” “You’re welcome.” Fliss chuckled, as Frank helped her down. She watched her run off to pick up her cat.

“Thank you.” Frank said gently, turning to look up at Fliss.

“What for?”

“Talking to her, the way you always do. I don’t know how you do it Lissy, but you make her listen.”

“Don’t worry too much about her.” Fliss smiled “I know it’s easy for me to say but, well you always said today would be a challenge. See how she goes tomorrow.”

Frank smiled and rubbed at the back of his neck before he took a deep breath, suddenly making a decision. “I err, don’t suppose you wanna come for a drink on Friday? I’m only going to Fergs but…”

“I thought Fridays were your nights, you know where you sat at a bar, alone, all broody and mysterious.” Fliss grinned down at him.

Frank shook his head, a crooked smile spreading on his face “Yeah well, maybe I fancy a bit of company this week.”

Fliss looked at him for a moment, considering what he had said before she smiled “Ok, I got lessons until 6:30 but I can meet you there later on?”

Frank smiled “Great, it’s a date.”

Fliss arched her eyebrow and Frank inwardly cursed “I mean, not a date, but, you know, a…”

“You’re cute when you get flustered.” Fliss teased, cutting him off with a laugh “Don’t worry, Sailor, I know what you mean.”

With that she turned the horse back the way she had come and winking at Frank called to Mary. “Hey, you know when you asked if Heidi could still go really fast?”

Mary nodded.

“Well watch this.”

And with that Fliss gave the horse a gentle nudge and it erupted into a ridiculously fast gallop back down the beach. Fliss’ whoops echoed in the air as she looked back waving, and Mary ran a little way after her laughing and waving back.

****

Fliss was right. The next morning they had a little fuss but nothing drastic. Mary came home with a note about Wednesday being show and tell. Mary wanted to take Fred. So they bundled him into a cardboard box. Frank waited patiently outside until Mary was escorted back out by a classroom assistant to hand the cat back over.

“Enjoy that?” he said.

Mary nodded.

“I was talking to Fred.” Frank teased. Mary narrowed her eyes and he laughed.  “I’ll see you later ok?”

She came home a lot happier, talking to him about how the kids had asked her questions about Fred that she had answered and Frank couldn’t help but smile as she rambled on and on. Later, when he called Fliss he couldn’t stop himself from talking either and Fliss had been led on her bed, smiling at his voice as he continued to gush about his niece. Thursday and Friday passed much the same, which was why when Friday night came Frank was in a reasonably good mood, and ready to buy Fliss all the damned beer she wanted.

Fliss, however, was in a flap. Her lesson had overrun and now she had changed her outfit 3 times, finally settling on a light blue cotton knee length, sleeveless dress and brown sandals, leaving her hair loose and her make up light.  She hadn’t been out with her friends for, well, not since moving here. Sure, she’d been out with her parents and their friends but this felt different. And she was nervous.

“You look nice.” Her dad looked up as she walked into their living room. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, you sure you don’t mind dropping me?” she looked at him, “I can get a cab?”

“Don’t be daft.” Bill said, picking up his keys.

“Have a nice time, Honey!” her mum called.

Bill could tell Fliss was nervous so he made idle chit chat on the drive down to the main strip of bars and eventually pulled up outside Fergs.

“Just have fun.” he looked at her, squeezing her hand gently “And if you need me, call.”

“Thanks dad.” she smiled, kissing his cheek before she let herself out of the range rover and headed into the bar.

She glanced around for a second, looking for Frank and spotted him at a table talking to a dark haired woman, with a pretty face. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she really wanted to interrupt and was debating running back out to catch Bill when Frank looked up and saw her. Flashing her that smile that could melt her on the spot he waved her over.

"Thought you were gonna stand me up!" he grinned at her as she took a seat. "Sorry, my last lesson over ran." She answered before she smiled politely at the dark haired woman. "Hi..." "Oh, Fliss this is Bonnie, Mary's teacher." Frank introduced them. "Nice to meet you." Fliss smiled. The woman gave her a smile back and stood up speaking to her as she did so “Well, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time Frank and don’t want to eat into your date." "Oh this isn’t a date..." Fliss protested at the same time Frank shook his head "We're not..." he gestured between himself and Fliss with his hands "Fliss is Mary's riding instructor" "She horse rides?" Bonnie said, an air of surprise in her tone. "The idea was it would hopefully teach her social skills." Frank snorted. "Clearly hasn’t worked.." "Oh don't be so hard on her." Fliss jumped to the girls defence. "She's a good kid." "I bet it’s easier when you're trying to teach them something they actually want to learn, or in Mary's case teaching her something she doesn’t know." Bonnie said and Fliss laughed. "She’s actually one of the easier kids I have." She replied and Frank smiled at her comment "mind you, none of the kids give me any hassle really, it’s the adults that are hard work."

“Oh my god tell me about it.” Bonnie groaned “I dread Teacher-Parent evenings, honestly, some of them are so obtuse.” "I can imagine." Fliss grinned

"Anyway I better..." Bonnie gestured over her shoulder. "See you later Frank, and nice to meet you Fliss" "You too." Fliss nodded to he as Frank waved his hand in goodbye.

“What you drinking cowgirl?” he asked, standing up “I’ll go get em in.”

Fliss asked for a beer and sat down as he went to place their order. A few minutes later he was back, sliding the bud over to her.

“Thanks…” she took a huge drink. “I err, didn’t interrupt anything before did I?"

"No, not really." Frank shook his head "Not really?" "She errr...found out about Diane." Frank said. "Oh." Fliss frowned. "How? I mean..." "When I picked Mary up on Monday she was asking me about her background on account of her being so smart. I tried to fob her off, saying I had taught her a system, you know for arithmetic but she didn’t buy it. Apparently she’s been giving Mary a few more advanced equations to do…”

Fliss looked down as he slid the paper on the table over to him. It contained a number of formulas and algebra problems which Fliss could see Mary had completed.

“As you can see, she aced them. And then Bonnie googled the system I mentioned, and then me and up popped Diane.”

“So did you tell her the truth?” Fliss asked looking up at him, sliding the paper back.

“What option did I have?” He shrugged, folding it and shoving it in his pocket. “She came down here to call me out so I figured honesty was the best…what?" He asked when he noticed Fliss was frowning. "She came down here on a Friday night to find you?" Fliss snorted

Frank shrugged “That’s what she said.”

"How she know you'd be here?" "I'm here most Fridays...not that hard to find." "Maybe you should think about varying your routine, Sailor" Fliss grinned “And you should definitely think about varying this shirt.”

Frank glanced down at his bright yellow palm tree print Hawaiian shirt

“What’s wrong with it?” he pouted.

“What’s right with it more like.”

“Well I’m not one for corporatism.” Frank shrugged “I like to think I’m an individual.”

“Yeah, well I’m not sure planet Earth could deal with two of you.” Fliss shot back. “I can only just about cope with one…”

Frank paused before he looked at her, shaking his head with a snort as his mouth curled up at one corner “Well that’s just fucking rude.”

“Made you smile though.” Fliss grinned at him.

Frank looked at her for a moment before he felt his face split further into a grin as he looked at her. “Yeah, yeah you do…I mean did.”

He saw her cheeks flush in that adorable way they did, and he decided to save her from further embarrassment by changing the subject. It wasn’t long before they settled into an easy conversation and the events of the previous week and all worries about Mary flew completely from Frank’s mind.

**** Chapter 6

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 1

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

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

Thuesdays were never good for earning at Sammy’s. The small burlesque club, with the unfortunate grammatically incorrect name, smelled like it always did. Of old tobacco, cheap alcohol, and even cheaper perfume. The regulars were seated in their usual seats, eyeing me, as I – with as much enthusiasm as I could muster – smiled at them. Not the smile. Disappearing from the stage in the middle of a dance wouldn’t exactly earn me extra tips.

I blew a kiss at the patrons, and leant over the chair, resting my hips on the back of it, before I put my hands on the seat, lifting my legs into the air, into a perfect mermaid position. Shimmying my shoulders, I then lowered my chest onto the seat, folding my hands under my chin. I winked at the patron straight in front of me – a skinny middle aged man, with a tan suit, two sizes too big for him – I then sighed, and sent a longing look at his pack of cigarettes. God, I wanted a smoke. Mr. Tan Suit saw the look, and giddily put a cigarette between my lips, lighting it for me with a shaking hand. I pretended not to mind that he almost burnt of my eyebrows, and lifted my torso in to the air again.

Cigarette in mouth, I spread my legs into a frog position, and slid my butt under myself, down the front of the backrest, finally landing with a bump on the seat.

Scanning the room for potential income, I locked eyes with a stranger, seated with his back against the wall. He looked different than the regulars. For one thing, he looked like he’d actually showered that morning; but what really caught my eye, was the way he seemed completely at ease in the dark rundown club, relaxing in his chair, arms folded across his chest. Nice looking arms, I thought to myself. I wonder what else on him is nice.

The usual patrons, even the regulars, would always have some sort of nervous twitch, bouncing their legs, pulling at their shirts, looking like they felt they were doing something naughty; sitting here, looking at men, women and everything in between, dancing and grinding across the stage.

This guy was a regular Ken doll – scratch that, G.I. Joe – sitting perfectly still, watching my every move. Not a smile or a lifted brow, to reveal any kind of arousal or nerves. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or aroused by his look. I decided to go with annoyed.

I stood up, and finishing with a twirl around the folding chair, I picked up the tip-bucket, and sauntered of the stage with it in hand. I walked past Mr. Tan Suit, smiling at him. He seemed sweet, probably spent his last change on the entry fee, but even if he hadn’t, I would leave his purse alone. As a thank you for the smoke.

With a last look at G.I. Joe, I smirked and bit my lower lip. He looked me straight in the eyes. Nothing. Not a smile. Just big, light brown eyes, over chiseled cheekbones; staring at me, as if goading me to make a move.

Fuck him, I thought, and went to get a drink.

Sammy was behind the bar as usual, as I sat down on one of the stools. Free, though watered down, drinks were part of the deal, when you performed here.

“Tip alright today, cher’?”, he drawled at me, not meeting my eyes. I riffled through the bucket.

“15 bucks, and what looks like a stick of gum”, I retorted, reaching for the glass of scotch he handed me.

“Jackpot”, Sammy joked, scratching his armpit. “Look, honey”, he started, before I interrupted him.

“Yeah, I know. Times are hard. You just had to pay one of your suppliers. Your dog ate your homework… I know your spiel”. I winked at him. “Pay me next week, yeah?”, I said, and put the 15 dollars in my bra.

Sammy reached over and pinched my cheek. “You’re my favorite girl, Y/N”.

Yeah, me and every other of the dancers who’d let him of easy. Sammy was a good guy, but running a burlesque club in The Narrows in Gotham wasn’t the most lucrative decision he’d made since leaving New Orleans. Had he opened a stripclub, he might have made some money, but Sammy had a strict “no nipple”-policy in his club.

“I’ll manage, Sammy. I have my ways”, I smirked at him.

“I know you do, cher’”, he answered. “Just be careful”.

“Always am”, I said, already of the stool, walking towards the backstage door.

Walking past a table of men, who looked like they’d had one too many, a hand grabbed my wrist; pulling me into the lap of a sweaty man in his 40’s. His hand groped at my thigh, as I tried to get up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw G.I. move. He was leaning forward, eyes even more intense.

“Not so fast, sweetheart”, the sweaty man said. “Gotta get my moneys worth”, he whispered in my ear, as his hand travelled further north, trying to reach the inside of my legs. I pressed my thighs together hard, and slid my fingers across the table, towards his money clip. It was his own fault really, leaving money around like that. I looked at the man, and gave him my smile, as my fingertips reached the bills on the table, making them vanish from sight.

Looking at G.I., I saw his eyes had moved from mine, towards my fingers, and the now invisible money clip.

Shit, I thought, chills running up my spine. Not good. G.I.s eyes locked with mine again, his lips parting for the first time, into something other than a smile. More like a sneer.

“Hey!”, I heard Sammys southern drawl from behind me. His fist was firmly clenched around the mans shirt collar. “No touching the performers!”. The man instantly let go of my thigh, and I got up, sliding the money clip into the front of my shorts.

I kissed Sammys cheek. “Thanks”, I smiled, trying to hide the sadness from my voice. I wouldn’t see him again. I knew that.

Walking calmly towards the backstage door, I was very aware of G.I. following my every move. I had – maybe – 30 seconds. Closing the door behind me, I locked it, and put a chair under the doorknob. That might buy me a few seconds more. My backpack was still on the table, always packed, always ready. There was no way I was going anywhere inconspicuously, dressed in a red glittery bra, and bootyshorts. I quickly put on my ripped jeans and thin black, off the shoulder, sweater. Sammys trucker cap – a memento from his days as a truckdriver in Louisiana – hung on a nail by the door. I mentally apologized to him, put it on my head, and grabbed my leather jacket. With a final look across the small dressing room, I blinked away a tear, and stepped onto the wobbly dressing table, opening the small window above it.

There was a knock on the door.

“Miss Y/L/N”, a voice rattled me. He knew my real last name. Not the one I had given Sammy and everyone else this last year.

I hoisted myself, sliding my torso out the window.

“Chess!”. The doorknob wiggled, not opening the locked door. My foot slid on the mirror, making me scratch my belly on a rusty nail by the window.

“Shit”, I gasped, hearing my sweater rip, as I proceeded to climb out the small window. You’d think I’d be able to get through this fucking thing, having lived on cup noodles and stale coffee for months.

There was a loud thud at the door. He was trying to break through it. In the background I heard Sammy yelling at G.I..

“Move back, Mr.”, G.I.s authoritative voice roared. Shit. Shit. Shit. Another loud thud, followed by what sounded like gunshots. Please don’t hurt Sammy, was all I could think, as I finally got my legs through the window, grabbing at the edge of it, hanging, legs dangling, over a 10 feet drop down to the ground. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to land on my feet this time.

I heard a final crash – the door finally giving in – and let go.

The fall seemed to last forever, though I knew it was but a second. Spreading my legs, preparing for a pain, I landed on my feet, before instantly tumbling forward, scratching my knee on the concrete pavement.

I stood up, carefully trying to stand on my hurt leg. I could walk, even run; I was sure.

Looking up, I saw G.I.s head sticking through the window. “Back alley”, he yelled into a radio. He looked pissed. Good.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I started to run, but I only got to the corner of the alley, when I heard tires screeching, and angry voices yelling. A military looking van had stopped right in front of me.

“Freeze, lady!”, a soldier boomed at me, pointing something that looked like a gun from some video game. I stopped in my tracks, raised my hands above my head, putting them on the top of Sammys cap. G.I. appeared from somewhere, looking strangely impressed with me. It made me hate him even more.

“Chess”, he said.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, I answered, trying to look innocent.

“That stunt you pulled in there, with that guys money, tells me I’ve got exactly the right person”.

A second soldier, came up behind me, pocking me between the shoulders with his gun.

I sighed, and looked G.I. in the eyes, defeated. “Would you mind asking Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here to lower their guns?”.

G.I. laughed. Asshole. “Those guns are the only thing holding you in place right now, so that’s not happening, kitten”.

What the fuck was that? Kitten? If I’d worn my claws, I’d show him kitten. No. I was done.

I slowly lowered my hands from my head.

“Keep your goddamn hands up, lady!”, the second soldier boomed from behind me.

A second vehicle pulled up, a window to the back seat, slightly open, showing me the face of the passenger. I’d seen that face before. Dark brown eyes, and dark hair above it; and an expression that read nothing but contempt. This was not good at all. There was no way I was going anywhere with these people.

I stretched out my arms to each side looking from soldier to soldier, to the woman in the van; finally meeting the eyes of G.I.

“You know there is no way out of this”, he said quietly, slowly stepping towards me, his hands in front of him, showing me his gun was in its holster. The soldier behind me, had moved next to his “twin”, still aiming at me. The woman in the van leaned back in her seat, looking almost challenging at me.

I could hear my heart beating, and I was sure G.I. could too. He raised his eyebrows. “Just, make it easy for yourself ok? I don’t want to hurt you”. Continuously stepping towards me, slowly, as you would towards a cornered animal, he lowered one hand towards his belt, to his gun. “I don’t want to use this”.

I looked behind me. There was a wire fence blocking my way in that direction. No way over it, as long as I wasn’t wearing my claws. I wasn’t that nimble, the scratch on my belly reminded me. When I looked down at myself, I saw that my sweater had a rip, and I was bleeding through it. The cut wasn’t deep, but it might need stitches. Looking up at my antagonist one final time, I made the decision. He knew; they all already knew, so I might as well.

He stepped forward one last time. He was close enough to touch, and I could smell his aftershave, something subtle, but expensive, I thought; and I felt the heat from his body. Then, making myself focus on the task at hand, I closed my eyes, exhaled, and felt the purr move through my body, vibrating.

I opened my eyes again, and looked deep into his. “Another time and place, we might have had some fun, G.I. Joe.”, I half whispered to him. He blinked, and his lips moved. There it is, I thought.

“Flag!”, the woman in the van yelled. “Now!”.

I smiled, and – purring – I felt the light bend around my body, making it disappear before them, as in a mist. G.I. blinked again, grabbed his gun, and raised it; aiming pointlessly around, looking for me. I giggled, and got ready to run.

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag fic #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine

[giddyupponyboy]

Jealousy

Anonymous asked: Can I please request a imagine where the ready is Dallas total opposite best friend (she is really kind and sweet) and a soc flirts with her and Dallas gets protective and possessive and admits he is inlove with her?

Anonymous asked: hi! could you write about the reader going out with dally and getting into trouble for the first time and they end up getting jumped by socs? protective dally is so hot

Warnings: swearing, blood, really really long (4018 words to be exact)

a/n: haha guess who got carried away again!! I mean, I tried to make this one longer anyways because I combined two requests in one. They were very similar so I hope y’all are okay with that!! also, I tried to shake up the ending a bit because I feel like all my imagines end the same,, credit to @bisvtori for the photo 

protective dally is so hot i love it mm

“A board game?” Dally questioned with disgust. “You guys really thing I’m gonna sit here and play a board game?”

“C’mon, Dal.” Pony sighed. “We’ve been going out a lot lately. We should just stay inside tonight.” He said, trying to reason with the hot-headed boy.

Dally sat there and scoffed. “Not even cards?”

“What wrong with a board game, Dal?” Johnny asked, helping Pony set up the board.

“Yeah c’mon it’ll be fun.” Two-Bit said, taking a sip of his beer. Soda and Steve handed the colorful bills out to everyone sitting at the table while Dally sat there in disbelief.

“You guys are crazy if you think I’m gonna spend my Friday night playing a board game.” He stood up and pushed his chair in forcefully. “I’ll see you around.”

“Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out!” Steve called. Dally flipped him off as he walked out of the house, letting the screen door slam loudly behind him. As he walked down the steps of the porch, he saw (y/n) walking through the gate.

“Hi, Dal!” She greeted him with a warm smile. She closed the gate behind her and walked up to him

“Hey, (y/n).” He greeted back.

“Where are you headed?”

“Anywhere but here. They’re playing board games.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and dug his boot in the dirt at his feet.

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled. “Pony invited me. You’re not staying?”

“No. It’s Friday.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “It doesn’t matter what day of the week it is, Dal. It’s what you make of it that matters.”

“Okay well let’s make something of it. Can’t make much happen sitting inside and playing board games.”

“I don’t wanna ditch Pony.” She said sadly, trying to push past him.

He grasped her shoulders with her strong hands, stopping her before she could take a step further. “C’mon (y/n), it’ll be fun.” She stared up at him, unphased by his words. He sighed heavily before making a compromise. “Okay, if you ain’t having fun I’ll bring you back here.”

“Dal-“

“Just a couple’a hours, (y/n), I promise.”

She contemplated for a moment. “Okay, fine.” Dally smiled triumphantly as he grabbed her hand and led her out of the yard. “But only a couple of hours, then I’m coming back here.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He said, brushing her off. He led her to his car, unlacing his fingers from hers as he walked over to the driver’s side.

She stood at the front of the car and kept her arms crossed as he hopped in. He stuck his head out the window. “You getting in or not?”

She huffed in response, “You can at least be a gentleman if you’re gonna drag me out like this.”

He rolled his eyes and got back out of his car. He glared at her as he walked past. “Anything for you, princess.” He said in a condescending tone. He opened the door and motioned for her to get inside.

“Thank you.” She said, climbing into the passenger’s seat. Dally quickly made his way back around to the driver’s side. He climbed in, adjusting his mirrors and casually checking himself out.

“Where are we going?” She asked. Dally started turned the ignition and the engine came alive with a loud roar.

“You’ll see.” He smirked before shifting into drive and speeding off.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy her adventures with Dallas. There was nothing else like it. Open road, the music turned up, the windows down. They had done this many times before. It brought them closer each time. Dally was the one person she was able to tell almost everything to, and she was always there for him as well. Whenever he got into a bad fight, she was always there to patch him up. Not to mention, she was there the entire time he was on and off with Sylvia. He cared about her more than he’d ever be willing to admit, and what they had between each other was special.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the fresh summer air as it flowed through her hair. She stuck her head slightly out the window, taking it all in. Dally rarely took the streets in town, instead taking the highway that surrounded the perimeter. Less traffic, less lights, and a perfect view of the scenery untouched by civilization. The sun was setting on the horizon, shades of purple and orange painting the sky. Dally looked over at her, noticing her content state. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sight of her.

She instinctively looked over to him, and he quickly looked back at the road, hoping she didn’t notice him staring.

She turned the radio down to speak to him. “Dal, can you tell me now?” She asked.

“We’ll be there soon.” He said, gripping the wheel tighter and increasing his speed slightly. They sat in silence, listening to music and enjoying the rest of the ride.

Dally eventually made his way back into town, turning down various side streets and finally stopping outside a busy looking bar. The sun had completely set by then, the streetlamps and building lights illuminating the strip. “That’s the place.” Dally said, pointing to the bar. Before she could say anything, he drove off, eventually stopping at the back of the building.

“Dal, are we even allowed to be here?” She asked cautiously, eyeing down the individuals that were loitering on the outside.

He turned the car off, the rumble of the engine halting abruptly. He stuffed his keys into his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and lifting it to his lips.

“Don’t worry, doll. We’ll be fine.” He assured her coolly, lighting the cigarette. They both climbed out of the car and she rushed to his side, wary of those that surrounded the bar.

“I think I’d rather be at Pony’s right now,” she said quietly to him.

Dally put his arm around the small of her back and slowly walked her to the door. “C’mon (y/n), I won’t let anything happen to you. Alright?” He said reassuringly, but that didn’t ease her discomfort. Still, she felt a little better with his arm around her. She moved closer to him, sticking to him like glue.

There were many people of all walks in this bar, all divided by grouping. Socs on one side, greasers on the other. It was amazing they could be in such close quarters and be so civil with one another. But she did notice the occasional piercing glare from one end of the bar to another between the groups. The rivalry was still aflame, just toned down. She didn’t want to know what would happen if a fight broke out.

Dally walked her up to the bar. “You wait here, I’m just gonna go say hi to a few people.” He put his cigarette out on the ashtray before turning back to her. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and he turned to leave, disappearing into the crowd. She sat at the bar; her hands clammy from nervousness. She kept them clasped together as her elbows rested on the bar in front. She wasn’t used to this many people, and the environment was unfamiliar to her which added to her slight anxiety.

She gazed at the intricate bottles of alcohol that were on the various shelves behind the bartenders. Each one unique and beautiful in its own way. She had never touched the stuff too often, but she did note that the bottles made it look much more enticing than it was.

She was stuck in her thoughts when someone approached her from the side.

“Hey,” the voice was cool and calm. It cut right through the music and she turned her head to the source. A soc boy. Blonde fluffy hair, khakis and a nice shirt. He quite easy on the eyes as well. Soc boy or not, she was shy with anyone of the opposite gender. She felt her face heat up as she made eye contact with him.

She averted her gaze as she replied. “Hello.”

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this all by yourself?” He asked, leaning in. Even though it was quite dark, the light that hung above the bar was bright enough for her to see his hazel eyes.

“I’m here with my friend.” She explained, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Some friend they must be, leaving you here alone.” He bit his lip as he looked at her up and down. “Some folks in here wouldn’t be so kind to you.”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

He leaned in again, so close she could feel his warm breath on her ear. “Let me buy you a drink, doll.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll make worth your while”

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to cause a scene, and she didn’t want to stay there any longer.

She slowly began to shift herself out of her seat when she saw the boy get thrown from his stool onto the floor. Most of the chatter came to a halt as Dally towered over the boy, a fire burning bright in his eyes.

“She ain’t interested pal, now fuck off.” Dally said.

“Why don’t you fuck off, dirty greaser.” He said, standing up and spitting in Dally’s face. Dally grabbed his shirt and knocked his head to the soc’s. The soc fell to the ground, unconscious.

The whole world seemed to come to a stop as the boy hit the ground. The two opposing sides knowing what was about to happen, but still were hesitant. It was slow motion, the many bodies standing abruptly from their stools and chairs. Poker chips and playing cards went flying, as well as cups and the liquid within them. It was quite the dramatic scene. She watched with wide eyes as the two waves of opposing gangs collided, Dally plastered right in the middle.

The bartender signaled for her to jump over the counter, and she listened without any hesitation. She didn’t want to get caught up in that mix. The sounds of shouting, yelling, grunting, glass shattering, and groaning filled the air, completely drowning out the jukebox in the background.

“Stay here,” the bartender instructed, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m gonna call the police.” He quickly turned and escaped to the back room to make the call. He eyes widened. If the police came, Dally would for sure be arrested.

She climbed on top of the bar, trying to scope out her greaser boy in the ocean of people. She squinted her eyes to get a better view, but it was useless, it was too dark and the air was cloudy with a thin layer of smoke.

It was difficult, but she eventually picked him out from the crowd. He had a soc by the shirt and was punching him repeatedly. She was about climb down off the counter when she was stopped in her tracks by the horrific sight of four other socs jumping on him from behind. Dally disappeared under the group, their arms raising and snapping back to throw punches at the greaser boy beneath them. A few of Dally’s friends noticed and rushed to the scene, prying the soc boys off one by one and slowly finishing them off.

Dally slowly pulled himself off the floor and steadied himself on a nearby table. She quickly rushed over to him, trying to avoid getting caught in any fights.

“Dally!” She cried. He looked over to her and she saw how bad the damage really was. His eye was black and bloodshot. Blood dropped slowly from his nose, streaks of it swept across his cheek as Dally had tried to wipe it. “Are you okay?” She asked frantically.

“I’m fine, (y/n).” He said flatly, trying to brush off her concern.

She ignored his attitude. “We need to leave now; the bartender called the police.” She explained.

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” Dally said, struggling to steady himself as he stepped away from the table he was leaning on. He stumbled a bit, almost tripping when she stopped him.

“Why are you walking like that?” She asked, helping him stand straight.

“I’m kinda dizzy.” He held a hand to his forehead. She noticed his bruised and bloody knuckles. He had fought hard. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder, allowing him to rest some of his weight on her.

“You must be concussed.” She helped him to the back door, careful to avoid any more fighting. She clasped the doorknob and began to turn when the sounds of sirens filled the bar. Tires screeched outside, followed by the front door breaking open with a loud bash.

“Everybody down!” an officer shouted. She wasted no time opening the door and helping Dallas out the back.  

“Hurry, Dal, hurry!” she pleaded, helping him to the passenger side of his car.

“I can drive.” He mumbled.

“No, you can’t.” She said flatly, helping him into the car. She closed the door and he leaned his head on the window, closing his eyes. She sat in the car and reached into his jacket pocket for his keys, igniting the engine and speeding off. “We need to get you to the hospital.” She said, looking over at him.

His eyes shot open at her words. He turned to her and pointed a finger. “You ain’t taking me to a hospital.”

“Dal, your head-”

“This has happened before, I’m always fine.” He slurred, turning back to face the window.

She shook her head and decided to bring him to Bucks. Surely, he’d know what to do. At least she hoped he would.

She sped onto the lot and quickly parked the car. She turned the car off and hopped out, rushing to the passenger side to help the broken boy. Slowly opening the door, she grabbed his arm and steadied him again, slowly walking him to the entrance.

It was rather quiet for a Friday night. There were only a few people sitting and playing cards at a table when she and Dally shuffled in. Buck looked up from his hand and noticed Dally’s state.

“(y/n).” He said, standing up and walking over to them. “What the hell happened to him?”

“I’m fine!” grumbled Dally.

“There was a huge fight at some bar on the other end of town. I think he’s concussed.” She said as Buck took Dally’s weight off her shoulder.

“Let’s take him upstairs. Grab a couple of rags behind the bar and wet them to clean his face.” Buck said, carefully leading Dally towards the stairs. “And fill a bag with ice!”

She followed his instructions, finding a few cleaning rags in a drawer which she wet in the sink. She fished through the freezer and grabbed a tray of ice cubes, dumping the contents into a small plastic bag. By the time she made it upstairs, Buck already had Dally in his bed.

“I’m gonna go find some painkillers,” He said, walking past her. She walked over to Dally, taking a look at his bruised face before kneeling beside him.

His eyes were closed, but he knew she was beside him. Her presence was calming. What she didn’t know was Dally lied to her. He had been concussed before, but never this bad. His whole world was spinning, and he was worried. But god forbid he admit that. He needed to be strong.

She carefully began to wipe the dried blood from his cheek, trying not to put too much pressure as to not hurt his bruised face more. “You need to be more careful, Dal.” She said softly. “You might get yourself killed one day, and I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.” She folded the rag, exposing a clean area and began wiping gently again.

Dally grumbled. “You think I’m just gonna sit by and let that guy touch you?” He tried sitting up, but she pushed him down again.

“I don’t know what you feel you have to prove with me, but nearly dying each time is not the way to do it.” She said, handing him the bag of ice. He placed it on his forehead and closed his eyes; the cold somewhat easing the throbbing pain in his head. “You’re so stupid sometimes, honestly.” She had never spoken to him like that before, and Dally was taken aback.

He opened his mouth to speak again before Buck came back into the room with a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Here, take these.” He said. Dally slowly sat up, taking the pills from Buck’s hand and tossing them in his mouth. What was once a completely full glass of water was quickly reduced to nothing but a few small drops at the bottom, quenching Dally’s seemingly unquenchable thirst. He felt a little better, he just needed to rest now. He lied back down on the pillow and rested the ice to his forehead.

“He’s gotta rest. You should head home.” Buck said to (y/n). That was the last thing Dally heard before he fell asleep.

-

The sunlight lightly filtered in through the half-closed blinds, stirring the sleeping boy. The bag of ice had turned into water and was on the bed beside him. It must have opened, because the mattress was soaked. “Fuck.” Dally whispered to himself. He sat up, his wet shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. He took it off and tossed it on the floor.

“Hey!” A voice said.

He jumped at the surprise and looked down. (Y/n) was curled up under a few blankets. His wet shirt landed on her head. She tossed it aside and glared at him angrily.

Dally was startled by her voice, unaware that she had been beside him all night. “What the hell are you doing down there?” he asked.

“I didn’t have a way home, so I just stayed here.” She explained, pulling the blanket up to her chest. “And I didn’t wanna wake you, so I just slept down here.”

Dally stood up and pulled his comforter over the wet mattress, hoping it would be thick enough so the water wouldn’t seep through. “Get up.” he instructed, holding a hand out to her. She reached and grabbed it, and he pulled her to her feet.  She understood and laid down on the bed. He made himself comfortable beside her.

“Is your head okay?” She asked.

Dally almost forgot the beating he took last night. He had gotten used to the dull aches scoured his body, and his head hurt significantly less that the night before. He was grateful for that. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better.” He said, putting his arms behind his head.

She gazed at him with worried eyes. “Do you remember what I said to you last night?”

Dally thought back, but he couldn’t remember much of the night prior. He didn’t even remember how they got to Buck’s place. “No, I don’t.” He admitted. “I don’t really remember too much after what happened in the bar.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, turning onto her back.

“What?” He questioned.

“This is exactly what I mean. You need to be more careful!” He gazed at her intently as she continued. “Look, I care about you. A lot. I want you to stop being so reckless whenever we go out.”

He rolled onto his side to face her. “That guy was coming on to you, (y/n). Was I supposed to sit by and watch?”

“You didn’t need to start a fight over it!” She snapped. “You knocked him out, Dal!”

“Whatever, (y/n).”

She ignored him. “You just get so angry all the time and you can’t control yourself. I don’t like seeing you like that. I don’t like it when you fight people.”

“Yeah? And I don’t like it when you got all these guys flirting with you all the time.” He rolled back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “You just sit by and let it happen.”

Was he... jealous?

“It just bothers me, you know?” he said, avoiding eye contact. His head was slowly beginning to ache again from his anger.

They were both silent for a moment, his eyes locked onto the ceiling, and hers locked onto him. She understood what he was implying. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

He scoffed. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Dal, and tell me!”

“What? You obviously know. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” He sat up on the edge of the bed, his back turned towards her.

“If it means anything, I feel the same.” she said, staring at his back. He sat there motionless as he let the words sink into him. It felt awkward. He didn’t move or say anything. She was confused about what was going on.

She mumbled something under her breath as she shuffled to the edge of the bed, attempting to stand up. He stopped her, a firm hand gripping her wrist. “What did you say?”

“I said: you’re the worst.”

“I’m the worst?”

“Yeah, you are.” She sat beside him. “You don’t think it bothers me too? Except the difference is, you’re the one flirting with other girls. I have to sit by and watch and pretend I’m okay with it.” She fumbled with her fingers as she continued. “Then you just treat me like a friend, but then get mad when I talk to other boys. I’m so confused about what you want.” She looked up at him. “So, can you just tell me now?”

He looked away, taking his hand off her wrist. He sat silently for a moment, searching for the right words. She sat waiting patiently, looking at the bruises that covered his face; her stomach twisting with anxiety.

“I don’t deserve you, (y/n).” He avoided her, looking everywhere else in the room besides her. She’d never seen him flustered like this before. Dally was always cool and calm (when he wasn’t angry), never nervous or emotional.

“I’m trying to be better for you, but I feel like it won’t matter in the end anyways. Maybe you like the way it is right now, and maybe I don’t even have a chance.” Dally was fumbling over his words trying his hardest to remain calm.

Her anxiety quickly turned into contentment as the words fell upon her ears. Her feelings were reciprocated, and she couldn’t be happier. “Don’t change, Dal.” She said. “I like you for you. We get on real well all the time, and I always look forward to seeing you.” She inched closer to him. He looked at her, pleasantly surprised at her words. “Aside from the fighting. If there was one thing you should change, it would be that.” she smiled at him.

He laughed a bit looking down at the floor. When he turned back to her, she was inches from his face. He silently cursed at himself for not admitting this to her sooner. It seemed to be going a lot more smoothly than he had originally anticipated. He gazed at her, admiring her features, until his eyes dropped to her lips. He didn’t realize exactly how close she was until he looked at them. His instinct pulled him towards them, wanting to place his own lips on hers. He slowly began to lean in, until she began to speak again.

“But, how about you take me on a date first. We’ll see how it goes from there.” She said playfully, pulling away, much to his dismay.

She stood up from the bed and turned to walk away until he grabbed her hand. He didn’t want her to go. “Hey,” he said. But she wriggled out of his grasp and walked to the door. “Where are you going?”

She leaned against the door frame and smiled back at him. “Breakfast date?”

#dallas winston imagine #dally imagine #dally imagines #dallas winston #dallas winston imagines #dallas x reader #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders gifs #The Outsiders #greaser imagines #greasers #curtis gang

[skieswords]

Pull Through Part 3

Please read part 1 first to make sure you check all of the trigger warnings❤️

"I'm freaking out. What are we gonna do?" Luke ran his hands through his hair and dropped into a cracked leather seat backstage. They were sitting in the dressing room at Club Hollywood, a lowkey bar in Downtown LA. By some form of miracle, Sunset Curve had managed to book their first proper gig, with real people watching, who actually wanted to watch. Granted, they were only opening for a slightly more well-known band, but it was a start. However, Bobby had called the club, and told them he wouldn't be able to make it. The boys were losing it, and had no idea what to do. "We can go on without him. It'll be fine, we're totally in sync." Luke stared at Alex and bit his lip. "Dude, you're kidding. It'll mess up the whole set, we need a second guitar." Reggie pouted and pointed to his guitar. "Hey, I'm still here." Luke rested his head in his hands and groaned. "Reg. You play bass." He rolled his eyes with a slight smirk, and started racking his brain. A flash of orange made him think, and he sat up, reaching for Alex's arm. "Come on. Drive me back to yours." Alex looked at him in disbelief. "What's that gonna do? We have another 2 hours before we have to get Becca, we need to practice." Luke pulled Alex to his feet, and looked him straight in the eye. "Trust me." Alex groaned, and looked to Reggie, who shrugged. "Reg, stay here. We'll be back soon." Reggie's face fell, and the boys heard him shouting after them, as Luke legged it down the corridor, closely tailed by Alex.

"Bex?" Becca looked up to her door, and was surprised to see a flustered looking Luke, his face red and hopeful. "Oh, hey Luke. What you doing here?" Luke stepped into her room, and closed the door behind him. Becca looked up at him expectantly, as he wrung his hands at the bottom of her bed. "Bobby dropped out for tonight." Becca's eyes widened, and she jumped off her bed. "What? But tonight's your first real gig!" Luke nodded, and strolled over to the corner of her room. "Anyway, we can't find anyone to fill in for him." Becca frowned as Luke's fingers trailed over the guitar in the corner. "Luke..." He turned to her with pleading eyes, and it took a bit of effort not to concede instantly. "Please, Bex. This means everything to me." He came towards her and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly. Becca looked up into his eyes, deep pools of green, with flecks of gold floating in them. She'd do anything for those eyes. "Luke, I can't. I don't play." He dropped her hands and rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. You have to play, I've seen your music! And I've heard you playing in the loft before. Please. I'm begging you." Becca looked over to the guitar in the corner and sighed. "I- Luke I've never played electric." His face lit up, and he grabbed it off the stand. "I'll teach you. We have two hours until we're on, and it's easier than acoustic. You'll pick it up in no time, I promise." His eyes were so hopeful, and he looked so young and innocent, that she couldn't say no. It meant so much to him. Becca looked to the homework on her bed, and sighed. "If I can figure it out, then yes. Maybe." His smile was so wide she thought it must hurt, and he caught her off guard by scooping her up and spinning her around in his arms. "Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Come on, let's go." He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her towards the door, but she stopped, and looked down at herself. "Luke?" He turned back and smiled at her, still tugging gently on her hand. "I can't go in this." She indicated to her sweats and the old hoodie, and he frowned. "True. You can't. Uh, you own anything black?" Becca snorted and headed for her wardrobe. "What kinda stuff do rockstars wear?" She bit back a laugh as Luke did a dramatic spin, holding out the lapels of his jacket. "Right, but I'm not gonna wear that, am I." She waved a hand at his sleeveless shirt, and low-cut jeans. Alex came in then, and groaned when he found Luke sitting on Becca's bed. "Dude, what have I said? You're not allowed in her room alone." Becca sent Alex a disapproving glance, and turned back to her wardrobe. "What should I wear tonight?" Alex moved to stand beside Becca, and reached into the mess of clothes. "You'll be backstage, so black works?" Becca frowned and looked to Luke questioningly, who was gesturing wildly behind Alex's back, drawing a line across his throat and shaking his head. "Uh, okay. Jeans? Or like a skirt? Or shorts... uh." Alex pulled a pair of black denim shorts out, and threw them at her. "There. They'll be fine. Luke?" He held open the door to Becca's bedroom, and raised his eyebrows. Luke sniffed and smirked, biting his lip and glancing at Alex as he walked out the door. Becca laughed as she heard Alex smack him in the hall, and pulled out the rest of her clothes. "That's my baby sister dude! No perving!" Luke laughed in response, and Becca imagined his goofy little grin, his hands shoved in his pockets, or fiddling with the chains on his jeans.

Luke snuck back into Becca's room a few minutes later, knocking to make sure she was decent. "I'm gonna dump this in the car- woah." Becca turned round to look at him with a nervous smile. "Do I look okay?" Luke gulped and blinked a few times. "Uh, yeh. You look great." Becca looked down at her outfit and bit her lip. Black cutoffs, and fishnet tights, paired with her black chuck taylors, and a Sunset Curve t-shirt  knotted at the front. After looking her up and down slowly, nodding in approval, Luke frowned a little and looked down at his own jeans. He put the guitar on the bed, before detaching one of the chains hanging from his belt loop and reaching towards her. "Here, this'll top it off." Becca's eyes grew as she watched Luke kneel down, and felt his hand on her waist, clipping the chains onto her shorts. "Great. Uh, meet you downstairs in 5?" Becca blinked and nodded, taking a step away from him and rubbing her neck awkwardly. Luke snapped his fingers at her and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Becca to continue staring at herself in the mirror, tugging her shorts down every now and again. After throwing a black and grey checked flannel over her shoulders, she jumped down the stairs, and bumped into Alex coming out of the bathroom. "You look ace, proper little groupie we've got." He grabbed her hand and spun her around, before dragging her out to the car, where Luke was already  sitting, music blaring from the windows. "Cmon, we've got things to do!" Alex rolled his eyes at Luke's overexcited-puppy behaviour, and pulled back his seat to let Becca climb in. "Let's get this show on the road!" Luke turned and winked at Becca, leaving her to laugh at his antics, and watch out the window, one knee pulled up to her chest, chewing her lip anxiously.

Becca was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands desperately. They had an hour until they were expected on stage, and Luke still hadn't gotten a chance to come help her with the guitar part. In all honesty, she'd lied to Luke about never having played electric before, hoping to deter him from asking her. Obviously this hadn't worked, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't complain about it once they were on stage. "Hey, there you are. Ready to do this?" Becca turned to face Luke, her face almost grey. "I don't know why I said I could do this. I can't play on a stage! With all those people watching..." Luke stepped towards her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look up at him. At 5'3, even Luke was tall to her, and her worried eyes met his, seeking comfort in the familiar emerald orbs. He pushed her gently towards the guitars in the corner, and swung the strap over his shoulder. He plugged in the amp, and strummed the strings quickly, tuning them with expert fingers. Satisfied, he shortened the strap a little, and held it out for her to step under. "It's a little heavier than what you're used to, but you won't notice it in a moment." Becca adjusted the strap again herself and frowned as her neck strained with the weight, before swinging her hair out from under the strap. Luke turned back to her, his own guitar hanging round his neck, and smiled at her reassuringly. "Okay, it's mainly A and D in the first verse. A first, then D, then A..." Luke continued to show her the chords for the set, smiling proudly every time she got it right, and resting his hand over her fingers every time she got it wrong, adjusting her fingers ever so lightly. It was sweet, watching his surprised expressions when she managed the more difficult combinations, and she felt a strange feeling in her stomach, as the time ticked by. "Okay so there's this one part, where Bobby and I usually play back and forth, kinda like call and response? But I can just play that whole section if you want?" Becca smirked and rolled her eyes. She knew the section well, and after years of listening to the boys play, she was pretty sure she had it engraved in her brain. "I'll give it a go. I think I know what bit you're on about." Luke pulled his guitar over his head and stepped behind her, putting his hands over hers. Becca's eyes widened and she gulped, mentally slapping her forehead and forcing her brain to cooperate. "So put your left hand on the 7th fret... yeah right there, A shape... perfect. 4th, 2nd, 6th, 3rd..." Becca lost focus as her head turned slightly to her left, and she found Luke's face, furrowed with concentration. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips, watching him bite his lip as his calloused fingers curved softly over her own. He noticed she wasn't playing, and turned to face her, his eyes meeting bright blue. A playful grin appeared on his face, and Becca felt a blush creeping up her chest. "Yo, Luke, we're on soon, you read- Bex?" Luke coughed and took a step back from Becca, grinning at Alex, who's eyes were wide and mildly disapproving. Becca rolled her eyes at Luke's expression, and swung the guitar over her head, resting it next to Luke's. "I've got this, Alex. Promise." Alex's face was wrought with worry and surprise, but after registering Luke and Becca's hopeful faces, he groaned, and walked away. "I'm gonna kill you Lucas." Luke grinned at Alex's retreating form, and the middle finger held high above his blonde hair, before turning to Becca. She stood with her arms across her chest, bottom lip in between her teeth as she chewed frantically. "Hey, Bex. You're okay." Luke reached a hand out and grabbed her hand, forcing her to let go of her lip so she could smile up at him. "You got this."

The wings were stuffy, men dressed all in black running across the stage now and again. Alex's drums sat pride of place on a platform towards the back, and the boys' and Becca's mics were arranged around at the front. She'd spoken to Luke, and convinced him she couldn't sing. It took a lot of convincing, but they stopped when Reggie had realised Becca was playing for them, pulling his surrogate little sister into his arms and hugging her tightly. "I always said we'd make a rockstar of you." Becca smiled as she thought about it, laughing to herself. Her, a rockstar? I don't think so. She'd leave that to Alex. A hand between her shoulder blades told her it was time to go, and Becca looked up at Alex. He looked nervous, but excited at the same time, if that was even possible. She imagined he felt similar to her, with butterflies going mental in her stomach, and weird shivers creeping up her spine every 2 minutes. They stepped into the blinding lights of the stage together, Alex's hand only leaving her back when they reached her mic. Luke nodded towards their guitar stands, and Becca followed him over. "Breathe. You'll be great." His hand brushed hers, and she smiled, taking the guitar he offered her. "Let's do this." With one final smirk, Luke turned to the crowd, hardly visible through the smoke off the lights, and started waving, smiling like a madman. Becca rolled her eyes, and swung the guitar strap over her head. With one final breath, she turned to face the crowd also, finding herself grinning in anticipation. She looked around the boys, and found her heart clenching desperately, as she registered the looks of unadulterated bliss on their faces. Alex was rubbing his drumsticks together, his eyes sparkling in the lights, as he tossed his hair off his forehead. Reggie was waving into the crowd excitedly, jumping up and down on his toes lightly. Luke was knelt down towards the front, grabbing the hands of some high school girls they knew. Becca frowned at this, and turned her attention back to her guitar. "Hey everyone! We've got a special guest tonight, our drummer's little sister, Bex!" The audience clapped and cheered, and Becca felt her chest tighten. "We're Sunset Curve-" Reggie jumped in. "Tell your friends!" The lights in the audience came down, and as Reggie struck the first chord, Becca felt like the world was moving in slow motion. Her own fingers started sliding up and down the fretboard, and she felt a jolt of energy flow through her as she picked the first string. Alex came in, and her heart rate picked up. This was it. And then suddenly, a rush of adrenaline sped through her, setting her skin on fire, as Luke began to sing. He was jumping up and down, his left leg kicking out to the side every other chord. Becca stopped thinking, and tossed her hair behind her as the chorus started, trying everything in her power not to join in. Alex was going mental behind her, his hands flying around the drum kit so fast she could hardly make out the pale beige of his sticks. Reggie was having the time of his life, head thrown back in excitement. Luke was the one to watch though. He was like a man possessed, his eyes on fire as his hands flew around his guitar expertly, occasionally jumping off to grab the mic, and letting Becca take over the main melody line. Her cheeks were aching, and it was too much work not to sing. As the second chorus kicked in, she let go, and stepped up to her mic properly.

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now

Luke turned in surprise as a fourth voice joined in, but his face lit up when he realised the voice carrying throughout the club was hers, and he grinned at her. She rolled her eyes, and continued, reaching a hand up when she got the chance to run her fingers through her curls, grabbing her mic and pulling it closer to her.  

And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never

The bridge was coming up, and Luke cast a glance over his shoulder, trying to make a decision in the next few seconds. Becca was radiant, her eyes glowing with a fire he'd only ever felt, never seen. He gulped as her hand ran through her curls, coming back to rest on the mic in front of her. She was incredible, and his eyes drifted to where her hands now rested on the fretboard of his old Fender, chipped black nail polish against the red of her fingertips, bruising from the pressure. Something clicked, and he silently apologised to Alex, before catching Becca's eye, and nodding at her, asking her to join him. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help herself, and moved towards him.

We ain't searching for tomorrow (tomorrow) 'Cause we got all we need today (today)

Becca met Luke at his mic, just as she joined Reggie on the top harmony, her voice ringing in Luke's ears. If he hadn't been so caught up in the moment, he would have been speechless. They were nearly touching, and Becca could feel Luke's hot breath on her face as they shared the mic. Their eyes never left each others, and Becca could feel Alex's glare burning the backs of their heads. Luke's hair fell forward onto his forehead, the tips damp with sweat. In that moment, with the fire in his eyes, his arms bulging, and voice raspy as ever, Becca had never found him more attractive.

Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain

Becca turned to look at Reggie, who was looking at Luke with an amused expression. As they got ready to launch into the last chorus, Becca decided it really was now or never, and jumped onto the platform Alex was on, shooting him a smile as he sang and clapped his hands, head shaking ever so slightly towards her. She winked and started up the final chords, eyes closed in pure ecstasy, high on the energy of the music. She could feel eyes on her, and had a feeling Luke's were included in that. Indeed, when she opened her eyes, green met blue, and she almost felt the need to cover up. Luke's eyes burned through her, and she couldn't take her eyes off him, or the look on his face. He was in absolute awe of her, and the light that radiated from her when she played. He knew what it was, because she looked how he felt. Overcome with the music, she'd let herself go completely, her heart beating with the drums, her blood flowing with the melody, her only source of oxygen the words of the song. His only question was why she'd never joined them before. She was breathtaking on stage, and after a confirmatory glance at the audience, he knew it wasn't just because of his childhood crush. Of the many stares from the audience, a lot of them were on her, everyone wondering who this electrified beauty was. As the final chord rang out, from Luke's guitar, there was a millisecond of silence, in which Becca jumped off Alex's mini stage, and made her way back to her mic, hands resting on top of her guitar gently. The applause was deafening, and Becca dropped her eyes to her shoes, shuffling her feet side to side. That was until someone grabbed her hand, and she looked up, to find Luke beaming down at her. He dragged her off stage, and she found herself laughing hysterically, unable to contain herself. Luke lifted the guitar off her shoulders and leant it against the wall, before turning back to her and pulling her into a hug. "You were so awesome! I fucking knew you could do it, I knew it! You rocked that, they loved you!" Becca squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, not caring about the layer of sweat making his skin glitter in the soft light. "Dude, get off her." Luke dropped Becca to the floor gently and turned around sheepishly, face falling when he spotted Alex. His smile quickly returned, when he noticed the look of pride on Alex's face, and he watched as Becca sprinted towards him, jumping into his arms as he spun her round. "Who would've thought, my baby sister, a rockstar? You were incredible, I had no idea you could do that?" Becca giggled as Alex set her back down, still jumping up and down on her tiptoes with excitement. Reggie came running through a moment later, sweat running down his forehead. "Sorry, went off the wrong side. Bex? What the heck?" He held out his arms, and she gave him a tight hug, laughing at the look of pure astonishment on his face. She stood between Alex and Reggie, Alex's arm resting over her shoulders comfortably. They jostled her between them as they made their way back to the dressing room, Luke walking behind them with his hands shoved in his pockets, a triumphant grin resting on his face. "I wish I'd placed bets, I would've made so much cash!" Becca rolled her eyes and slid her jacket off her shoulders, dropping onto the couch. "I don't think I've ever sweat this much. You could've warned me, I'd have brought a spare shirt." Alex grabbed his bag from down beside the couch, and reached into it, tossing her a sunset curve shirt. "Thanks. How many of these things do you have?" Becca stood up and grabbed the hem of her shirt, dragging it over her stomach. Alex yelled and jumped in front of her, pulling it back down. "Uh, not here." Becca looked to Reggie, who was kneeling on the floor, sorting out piles of t-shirts, and to Luke, who was conveniently facing the door. "It's fine, Alex." He groaned and turned round, trying to block her from view with his body. A soft chuckle came from the direction Luke faced, and Becca smirked, pulling the fresh top on gratefully. "Cool, so what do we do now? Is that us done for the night?" Luke spun round, walking towards his own bag, and knelt down. "Pretty much, yeh. I'll just drop you home and then go to Reggie's to help the boys get everything sorted." Luke snorted from his spot on the floor, and dragged his shirt over his head, using it to wipe his face before throwing it at Reggie. Becca's eyes raked over his body, taking in his chest, those abs... Alex noticed, and kicked Luke, who hadn't let Becca's gaze go unnoticed, and smirked. "My eyes are up here, Bex." Becca rolled her eyes and took a step towards the window, leaning on the ledge and sighing as the chilled air hit her back. "I was just trying to figure out where you find the time to go to the gym, you know, between band rehearsals and all the school work you do." Luke smirked again, tugging his fresh top over his head. This one had sleeves, she noticed regretfully. "Gym isn't the only way to work out Bex." He winked at her, and dodged away from Alex's fist, falling onto the sofa laughing. "No sex jokes in front of my baby sister!" Alex fell on top of him and started pummeling Luke's chest playfully, leaving Becca to process what Luke had just said. Reggie appeared at her side, leaning his elbow on her shoulder. "Ignore him. He's in the studio so much, I've walked in on him almost a million times hanging from the rafters." Becca looked up at him in feigned confusion, but the rush of relief in her stomach was undeniable. "Don't worry, I won't say anything." He walked away with a knowing smirk, picking up an armful of t-shirts from the floor. "Guys, come on." Alex rolled off of Luke, and swung his bag over his shoulder, following Reggie out the door. Luke did the same, but he winked at Becca as he left, reaching his hand out towards her. "Now for the afterparty."

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