#her hairs like recovering from being consistently straightened

[saturnniidae]

Claire Nuñez I am your biggest fan

#curly hair claire truther #her hairs like recovering from being consistently straightened #btw when i say i love her i mean ESPECIALLY the way my mutual avirxy writes her 🦈🦈 #claire nuñez #claire nuñez fanart #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #trollhunters fanart #dreamworks fanart #tales of arcadia fanart #digital art #moth.jpg #my art

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Of Stars & Blood- Chapter 1

Summary: After the party's first eventful day, camp gets set up, dinner gets eaten, bonding ensues... so does avoidance.

Pairing: Astarion x Elendil (named Tav)

Note: Tav is a high-elf whose adult, chosen name is now Elendil

Warnings: brief mentions of grief and blood

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: If you've missed it, the original prologue has been updated with more content added!

Series Masterlist

AO3 Link

The rest of the day’s itinerary consists of the party of four gaining three more members, agreeing to save a druid from a camp of goblins, and setting up their own camp for the night. All of which occurs with Elendil keeping her distance from Astarion, no matter how much her ridiculous brain tells her to go to him. As she begins the process of setting up her tent, her mind begins to flood with questions. The way Astarion had flinched and pulled away from her, and the way his face fell before he quickly recovered. It made no sense to her. Then again, it made no sense why or how he was alive. She watched as his body was lowered in his grave. Elendil picks up a stake, steadies it, and starts to secure the tent ropes into place. He looked pretty much the same as the evening before his ‘death’, nothing to note that was out of the ordinary, though he seemed… tired. His quips and attitude come quicker than it had when they were younger. The look in his eyes was one that she had seen before only when he was distressed, or scared, or…-

That was it. That’s what was different.

His eyes.

Rather than the shining, emerald eyes she had come to cherish the memory of, his irises were now the deep shade of the wine that the two had often shared and gossiped over.

But why?

Elendil begins to mull over ideas of why his eyes were different when Gale’s voice wrenches her from the spiral,

“Today was… tense, to say the least. You looked a bit distressed after our initial meeting with Astarion, so I thought I’d come over and make sure everything’s alright.”

“Oh,” she startles a bit , “thank you Gale, that’s very kind of you. I’m alright, or rather, will be. Just need some rest, is all.” Her thumb and forefinger pinch the bridge of her nose, and she looks up at the wizard.

“Well good. If you need anything, you know where to find me- oh yes I had also meant to ask, if you don’t mind my asking, who Tav is?.” Gale looks at her curiously.

Elendil’s lip curls up in a slight smile, “Tav was my adolescent name. When elves are born, their name given to them by their parents is their adolescent name. When we turn 100, we choose a name for ourselves, I suppose as a way to celebrate our coming of age.” she explains, “I’m surprised you didn’t know, being the famed wizard of Waterdeep.” she teased playfully.

Gale chuckles at the jab, “While I do have quite a big appetite for knowledge, there would hardly be much to learn had I not spaced out my mealtimes.” he smiles warmly and bids her well before turning to continue helping Shadowheart with the campfire and supper for the evening.

Elendil straightens up, stretching out her cramped up muscles, and achy bones. When she turns toward camp, she catches eyes with Astarion, who swiftly looks back to the book he has balanced in his hands.

It’s almost comforting to see him like that. With his nose buried in a book, one curl of his meticulously styled hair falling across his forehead from the angle his long neck is at. He’s dressed down, in simple trousers and white ruffled shirt, almost a perfect mirror image of those evenings they had spent sitting on the sofa in his parents library, studying their chosen subjects. That ache in her chest returns.

She wants to talk to him. Understand everything that is happening and has happened. Where he’s been. Why he seemed frightened for that millisecond after they had embraced each other.

Has Elendil done something wrong? It was difficult not to just immediately fall back into the comfortable rhythm they had, when he is before her looking nearly the same.

Shadowheart calls out that dinner is prepared, and Gale serves bowls to everyone except Astarion who states that he was going to go for an evening stroll before eating.

“I’ll simply serve myself when I get back dear, no need to worry.” he deflected Karlach’s concern of him not eating.

Elendil has half a mind to follow after him, perhaps talking in private about things, but ultimately decides to stay where she is seated on a log. Her eyes follow Astarion’s lithe form as he gracefully walks into the treeline.

_____________

Astarion’s steps are careful, calculated. He steps with purpose, moving smooth and seamlessly casual as leaves camp, his stride becoming stealthy the moment he’s out of the group’s line of sight. It doesn’t take long for his senses to pick up on the heartbeat of a doe, not too far off.

He’s quick. His legs carry him silently to loom over the grazing doe, before swiftly pinning her and biting through the pelt and sinew of her long neck. The moment his incisors pierce through the artery, his mouth fills with the sharp and sweet taste of blood.

He tries to be precise, and meticulous so as not to get a speck of blood on his shirt. He couldn’t have them finding out his true nature. Not this early on at least. No, he needed to gain their trust first. Gain companionship with the ragtag group of infected survivors.

A few last pulls from the deer’s throat, and Astarion has successfully drained the animal of life. His thumb swipes at his bottom lip.

It was best to stop a bit farther down the river they had set up camp on, to wash away any remnants of his meal from his skin.

_______________

His mind a bit more clear, now that his appetite was temporarily appeased, Astarion wonders some more about who exactly this ‘Elendil’ or ‘Tav’, as he had known her, was. He had no other explanation for how she had come back in his life at such an odd point in time, other than Cazador had something to do with it. Whether his vampiric master had paid Tav well, or perhaps cast disguise on one of the spawn and sent them, Astarion was unsure, but he was sure of one thing; anything even mildly positive, often turned out to be a guise, a tool to utilize against him in cruel ways.

Astarion returned to camp, he was just on the outskirts, hidden in shadow when he picked up the sound of Elendil’s voice, and the softer sounds of Karlach and Shadowheart acknowledging what she had to say with gentle hums.

He was far off enough to only pick up bits and pieces of her words that were interlaced with Karlach’s occasionally more boisterous responses,

“-grown up together.”

“-father worked on portraits-“

“I don’t know what happened.”

Astarion’s heart seized a little at that, though he didn’t know why. There was no reason for it when the hope that this was truly Tav was slim if not non-existent. Instead of dwelling on it, he decided now was as good a time as any to wander back to his tent for the night, and when his presence was known, Elendil’s last sentence trailed off to silence. Her eyes locked with his yet again. This time, Astarion held her stare, emboldened by his hunt perhaps. She averted her gaze, a visible flush on her cheeks in the firelight, the corner of Astarion’s lips quirk up in a victorious smirk.

Perhaps he would have the upperhand in this situation.

A/N: Apologies for the shorter chapters at the moment! As the story progresses, I do plan on chapters being a bit longer, but for now, we're just kind of setting things up!

Tags: @thexhostess

#elendil x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 oc #bg3 #of blood & stars

[cant-think-of-anything]

Pirate AU (Part One)

This story was entirely inspired from @anarmorofwords and @satanisanauthor  lovely headcannons, and Cordelia’s outfit comes form @adoravel-fenomeno wonderful drawing.  Here is the post (Idk if the link works sorry) 

The winds grew harsher as their ship drew close to a shore that was blocked off by tall trees, disguising their entry. Cordelia’s hands yanked on the ropes connecting the sails, but her eyes were elsewhere. She knew why they were in London, and being excited would only make the job that much harder but she couldn’t help but feel her heart leap at the prospect of going to parties and balls. 

They were travelling into one of the wealthiest parts of London, the heart of the city as some called it. She recalled the names on the files her brother had given her when he had explained what they were meant to do. Lightwood. Herondale. Fairchild. Three of the most well known, rich members of the society. 

Cordelia tied the knot, trying to stop her hands from shaking in their anticipation. Their ship was beautiful. Not many saw it that way considering how inconspicuous it was but if you looked closer you could see the details Cordelia adored. Her mother’s rugs spread across the rooms, Risa’s paintings hung on the wall, and her brothers now unused piano sitting in the middle of the room as if it was meant to be decoration. 

Alastair himself was seated at the desk, his chair tipped alarmingly back, and his eyes trained on the spread of papers in front of him. 

“Cordelia,” He greeted with a nod, his gaze still on the files. 

Cordelia snorted and snapped her fingers in front of her eyes, grinning when he glared at her. “Our costumes are ready! Risa wants to be certain they fit for tonight.” 

Even as she said it, she felt her face wrinkle up in distaste. Her current attire consisted of a billowy shirt, a thin corset tucked over the bottom half and boots coming up to her knees. Cortana, long known as the Carstairs symbol to many others who roamed the waters, rested on her hip, half covered by the knee length navy coat that had been draped over her shoulders. 

She only hoped her sword would be easily concealable at the ball.

Alastair felt horribly uncomfortable. Night had fallen and he had been rather unceremoniously shoved into a carriage with his sister and told to gather as much intel as possible. Carriages were possible his least favorite mode of transportation. They consisted of unpleasant jerks, and a tightly enclosed room, nothing like their ship. 

Like Cordelia he had to don formalwear and hide his weapons along the fabric of the suit. When the carriage rolled to stop, he nearly stumbled in his haste to get out, recovering in time to hold his hand out to Cordelia who grasped in gratefully. 

“Do you think…” She started, her voice faltering. 

“We’ll be okay” He murmured back, his eyes on the large “Institute”  as the Herondales had called it. Cordelia’s nervousness was, he presumed, a result of their mother not accompanying them. The three of them had been a group for a long time. Well four of them but an “unfortunate”  boating accident had taken care of that problem. Sona was nearing the end of her pregnancy, another reason that they needed the money from this heist, not that he would have ever told Cordelia how urgent their situation truly was. 

“Right,” She said, straightening with a sly smile, “Shall we go charm them into telling us their secrets?”  

“Either that or we put these daggers to good use.” 

Lucie was staring. 

She wasn’t the only one she knew. Lucie had noted the look that overcame her friends faces when the newcomers pushed through the doors. A young man and woman, siblings she presumed looking at the similarities in their sharp features and build. They had occupied a round table in the corner of the room and looked to be discussing serious matters. 

“Who are they?” James asked, his eyes trained on the lovely woman who had captured Lucie’s eye as well. 

“George and Margaret Mills,” Her father responded absentmindedly, with a glance at the guest list. 

Lucie felt her lips tug down, something about the answer feeling off but before she had the chance to question it, she heard James suck in a breath.

“Bloody hell,” She heard Matthew mutter, “Why is she here?” 

“She” was a tall, horridly dressed woman, with a questionable hat perched atop her tangle of faded brown hair. Tatiana Blackthorn walked through the large arches that led to the ballroom, seemingly blind to the flat-out stares and whispers that lapsed the room into near silence. The woman seated herself at a table her face impassive as she stared out into the garden. Almost hesitantly, conversation started again, jarring Lucie back to the present. 

She felt a sharp sting in her heart. The Blackthorns were a subject she tried her best to avoid. She pushed away from James’s tangle of friends who had started discussing among themselves again but stopped again when she heard Thomas call her name. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, his face kind as it always was. 

Lucie nodded tightly, tipping her head all the way back to meet Thomas’s eye. He was one of the few that knew about her friendship with Jesse Blackthorn, meaning he was one of the few able to offer her comfort when her friend had died. The situation was too much to think about most days, far too many loose ends and unresolved feelings, but on the days she couldn’t tear her mind from it Thomas was there for her. 

Before he could speak again, a thud sounded from the other side of the room, screams following short after. Thomas, likely seeing what had occurred with his impressive height, paled before dropping his hands from her shoulders and breaking into a run, shoving past people to reach the source of the commotion. 

Concern shot through her as she too tried to shove her way to whatever had elicited such a reaction from her friend. When she finally was able to reach the inner circle of people, she came to a dead stop, ice spreading from her heart.

Laying on the floor as if she had fallen into a slumber with her dress fanned out as if it had been arranged that way was the still body of Barbra Lightwood.

#alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale #james herondale #kind of #the last hours #tlh #thomastair #lucelia #my writing

[subbing-for-clones]

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 3

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 2682

WARNINGS: blood, fluffy fluff starts picking up

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       The few hours of sleep he was able to achieve were filled with nightmares that consisted of his memories returning. His life played out behind his eyelids charging his sadness, terror and his fury. Yet before his mind could plummet to unreachable depths, he sensed a calming presence in the back of his mind. A hand that reached out for him to hold onto. He had no idea that during his rest he became quite vocal and Y/N stood in his doorway using the force to ease him back into a relaxed state. Pulling him further away from the unseen dangers that threatened to pull him down and drown him.

    He woke with a start, not remembering where he was. His first thought was why it didn’t smell like fire and burning fuels mixed with humid gasses. When he felt his legs shift under the blankets the events that took place yesterday flooded back to the forefront of his memory. He smelled the sweet sugary aroma of a plate towering with baked apples and honeyed meat sitting on his night stand but before he indulged his groaning stomach, movement from outside the window caught his eye. It was his savior.

    Not covered in the same make of dress she wore yesterday. Today she adorned a fitted white cloth binding across her chest and beige trousers that bagged around her thighs but were tight just below her knees. Barefooted, she dual wielded white lightsabers in the Ataru style. Dodging quickly and lunging aggressively toward an invisible attacker. Gracefully she connected the two sabers so they appeared to be a single double sided weapon. Twirling them so quickly and dancing on her feet so lightly his eyes had trouble keeping up. She was working through forms he both recognized and ones he had never seen before. He could see a light glimmer of sweat slicked across her form catching in the early morning sunlight. She must have been training for hours already. Strands of hair falling out of the bun she had tied up to keep the majority of her locks out of her eyeline.

    He took and ate the breakfast she prepared slowly, studying her through the glass with admiration. Obviously satisfied with her efforts she hung her now sheathed sabers from the gate and tended the goats and chickens within the pen. Despite her hostile training they were calm and trotted up to her as she passed through the gate. He watched her feed the animals and her mouth form words he couldn't hear, assuming they were praises as they danced around her.

 ~~~~~

      The next two weeks were more of the same every day. You meditated and trained in the mornings before tending to your animals. You knew his eyes were on you while he ate the food you always left for him, always watching. You feigned ignorance and never mentioned that you caught him staring, surprising yourself with the fact that you kind of liked the attention. When you had finished your morning routine you would find him dressed in his room practicing the basic movements and exercises you assigned to him for his physical therapy. Satisfied he was actually doing them you would go shower and dressing in your usual slitted dresses that you preferred.

    You would eat again together and continue helping him work his legs. After the first few days he joined you in your afternoon meditation followed by more exercises or flipping through one of your many books, light music always on in the background. The longer he was in your care the softer his eyes looked, the stronger his legs got and he came to be more comfortable in your proximity. You had both gotten used to one another's company. You had spent so much time alone on this planet you had forgotten what it was like to have a companion. A rather agreeable one at that. It was nice.

 ~~~~~

      Now able to walk on his own with only the help from a cane he joined Y/N outside every morning. Still unable to train as she did, he practiced walking around the pen surrounded by the animals. He could see a smile grace her lips when he interacted gently with them. When she had finished, she strode over to him leaning up against the fence with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed.

"What is it?" He asked, honey eyes filled with concern that he had upset her somehow. He tended to revert back to the frightened apprentice she realized he had been at one point in his life if she wasn’t careful. Despite the fact that he had never one been the cause of even a slight frustration within her.

"I have to leave for a day or two, stock up on some things this planet doesn't have. I need you to stay here, I fear a storm is coming and I don't want to leave the animals unattended. Would you be alright with that?”

Sighing with relief he agreed and watched as she boarded her ship and took off.

      The next day after she had left, he must have looked up to the sky every hour impatiently waiting for her to return. He ate much less without her, swearing to himself that it didn't taste as good if it didn't come from her hands. He did however keep up with his exercises and spent much of his free time with the goats and chickens. That night he had even more trouble falling asleep than he usually did; missing her company. After tossing and turning until daybreak he made a daring move, striding toward Y/N's room without his cane for the first time.

    He had never been inside of it but he had caught glances after noticing she had been sleeping with her door open, starting a few days after his arrival. Sheer white curtains hung in front of the transparasteel panes that overlooked the garden. Like the rest of the house, not a single chronometer in sight. The need to keep time didn't really exist in this place, he enjoyed that small detail over the past few weeks. It was starkly different from how he was raised, every moment of every day planned down to the second. Even a slight deviation always resulting with a beating. He had to keep reminding himself that she was not his master. When he did forget she would always lend a kind reminder she was master of nothing and no one.

    The pine-colored rug under foot was exceptionally plush and extended across most of the floor, the polished dark wooden flooring peeking out only around the edges of the room. A long desk was situated beneath the large viewport. Atop it lay several data-tapes and empty books. She must be copying the information by hand he assessed. Actual paper writing was extremely rare and her home was filled with paper sheeted books bound in various leathers. One of the books sat open with a pen resting on it, the entry was short but he loved seeing her handwriting nonetheless. Without lifting the journal, he stood and read the page entry, curiosity getting the better of him.

Maul- Day 17:

‘He is recovering faster than I had originally anticipated but I am also not surprised. He has to be strong to have survived as long as he did on his own in the condition he came to me in. Already walking on his own supported only by a cane by day 10. He is gaining weight slowly but is starting to look healthier. He will snap back quickly once he can walk on his own again, unaided by a crutch. His eyes aren’t nearly as blood shot and the lighter shade of color in his horns and nails indicates he is getting proper nutrients and that his hormones have balanced out.

His mind seems to be healing as well, I haven't asked about his memories but I know they come in the form of nightmares. He responds well to my attempts to calm him in his sleep. They still come every night but he has gone from an excessive number of fits to only two or three a night. He is still wildly unbalanced but the scale is starting to tip in the right direction. I have come to realize that I enjoy his presence. He seems to be more comfortable with small talk. I like his voice, alas my mind wanders.’

    Maul hobbled over to her bed and hesitantly laid down on top of it not daring to mess up the bedding too much. Several realizations crossing his mind. One, she had actually come to care for him as he was starting to care for her. Two, he learned why she slept with her door open now. His hearts raced at the thought of her standing in his doorway calming him while he slept. Three, she liked his voice. He had always been scolded if he spoke unnecessarily, taught to be silent as shadows. But she liked his voice. He could smell her on her pillows, a sweet earthy scent that lingered in his nose. Very quickly sleep took him.

    He awoke that evening as the sun was starting to set to the sound of thunder ripping through the sky. His belly growled, he had grown accustomed to several meals a day and his hunger had caught up to him. Being sure to straighten out the blankets on her bed he stood and made his way to the kitchen. Opening the cooler for the first time, he found a plate with a large cooked steak and a note.

‘You had better eat this before I return. You have to eat even if I'm not there. -Y/N’

    He smiled at her sentiment. As usual with everything she made, it was like ambrosia in his mouth. The moment he finished eating he sensed the animals were distressed. Not bringing his cane he made his way slowly outside to the barn. The rain came down almost violently, lightning streaking across the now black sky while thunder crashed angrily.

    He was soaking wet by the time he got inside to check the animals who were immediately calmed when they saw him. Sighing he sat in the middle of the floor and began his meditation to stave away his and their anxiety of the storm. He had hoped she wasn't flying in this but she was already away longer than she said she'd be. That didn't help the knot of worry growing in his belly.

 ~~~~~

      When you came out of hyperspace and entered the atmosphere you realized you must have put the coordinates in a digit off. You were on the wrong side of the planet, jungle stretched out as far as you could see. This wouldn’t be the first time you had accidently come home in the wrong hemisphere. You sighed at your own antics. It was too dangerous to fly back out to space so you had to navigate through the storm down here. Your ship seemed to attract the lightning but you managed to sense it a split second before it struck, narrowly dodging the persistent bolts. Before long you could just make out the break that gave way to the grasslands. You started lowering out of the sky but were distracted to see Maul coming out of the barn. It was just a moment of distraction but an important moment, you didn't sense the lightning. You were struck and it killed the power sending you nose first straight into the soil with a loud crash. Your vision blacked out after hitting your head on impact knocking you unconscious.

 ~~~~~

 No...NO... fuck.

Maul watched as the bolt hit her ship and she crashed out in the field. Eyes wide with panic he ran as fast as his new legs would carry, almost giving out several times before he reached the fallen ship. He raised his arms, using the force for the first time in weeks he opened the door and lowering the ramp. It didn't reach the ground due to the crafts hazardous angle. Force jumping inside he landed on his feet with a shocking pain that radiated through his torso. Snarling he made his way to the cockpit where he found her starting to wake up.

 ~~~~~

 You felt strong hands on your arms gently squeezing, you sighed into the touch rubbing your head and your eyes. When they finally opened the first thing you saw were two brightly glowing golden orbs. Rubbing your eyes again, your vision fully returning, you realized they belonged to a very worried looking Zabrack. Who was covered in...straw?

    Remembering what distracted you in the first place you burst into laughter. Hard, rolling laughter.

    The worry on his face shifted into confusion. He slowly wiped the blood off your temple from where you hit your head. Then he lifted you bridal style and started walking out of the ship. Finding a new reserve of strength and determination he carried you all the way to your home. Although you stopped laughing you still giggled, picking pieces of straw off the back of his tunic. Finally realizing what you found so amusing he smiled, "the storm scared the goats so I meditated with them. I ended up falling asleep out there."

    He now stood in the living room, still in his arms you replied, "I kind figured as much." You pressed your forehead to his for a moment, butterflies dancing in both of your stomachs. He set you down on the couch slowly and fetched a cool wet cloth. Tenderly, he dabbed at the cut. You watched him closely, a slight blush fanning across your cheeks. He was so soft, so careful in this moment, so near you, a stark comparison to the man who had first landed in your field not long ago.

    He heard your heartbeat quicken and saw your blush, causing his face to deepen slightly along with yours. Quickly he stood, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck looking anywhere but at you. "I think you'll be alright," he stammered. "It's just a shallow laceration."

    You also stood, inches from him. He was taller than you were, not by much, but it was noticeable when you were this close to his body. "I could've told you that but noooo you had to cast aside your cane and come to the rescue... Thank you." You batted your long eyelashes at him and he gulped, gaze not leaving your own this time.

"I have a present for you."

"You do?" He asked now distracted from your devilishly plump lips.

"Yeah, quick stop on Naboo, few broken necks, spines and bribes later aaaaaaand.." you reached behind your back unclipping a third lightsaber from your belt. Still rough where it had been sliced in half you presented it to him. "Tada!"

"You did this for me?" He asked slowly taking it in his hands. It seemed.. heavier than he remembered. But it was his.

"Yes I did,” you stated matter-o-factly. Now that your obviously strong enough not only to walk but to carry me across the field, like the damsel in distress that I was, covered in straw no less. We will start training together. But for now, I'm exhausted. It's the middle of the night and I've had a maker damned day." You took a chance and leaned up into him, pressing your lips against his cheekbone with your hands on his chest, holding them there for a few seconds you felt him go ridged.

    Turning on the ball of your foot you wandered back into your bedroom. "Goodnight Maul." You called without turning to see his reaction.

    He held the place on his cheek where your kiss landed just before, mind reeling and melting at the same time. "Goodnight Y/N," he murmured. Not leaving his spot.

#maul fluff #darth maul #star wars maul #maul x reader #jedi knight #sith warrior #star wars #grey jedi #star wars fluff #starwars au #x reader #starwars x reader #jedi reader #reader insert

[lia-wildfire]

Nosy Superhero Gets Her Backup Privileges Revoked (Whumptober)

The superhero Comet was the best flier in the city, the only one who didn’t need support items to get or stay in the air and wasn’t a villain. Even with her other power of energy beams ...not available to her at the moment (her hands were still so cold) she was capable enough to get by, focusing on rescues and playing support in fights.

The thing about being a superhero was that there wasn’t always someone to fire energy blasts at, but there was always someone who could use the help of someone who could fly. She hadn’t even risen… that much concern or suspicion, probably, since the second power had been taken. Just a look or two when she kept wearing gloves even outside of costume and a couple of comments about how her hands kept shaking. It was fine, anyway, when she was in costume and in her headquarters’ jurisdiction and could rely on backup at any second.

The superhero Comet was not in costume and was not within her headquarters’ jurisdiction. Hailey Park was outside her city’s limits entirely, all of her armored Comet costume was at HQ, and the backup set was in her apartment where her boyfriend had been waiting for their date that night.

She was going to be a little late.

Mildly suspicious activity wasn’t enough to make a call on, but she’d gotten a feeling on the way home, when she saw the truck being loaded across the street. Suspicious truck loading plus a feeling of pure instinct still wasn’t enough to call headquarters or the regular police, and she had told herself she would only follow for a minute to see if they did anything outright illegal or went somewhere completely innocuous and she could call to sheepishly explain that she’d been held up on the date by her own baseless paranoia.

Flying made it easy to move quietly and keep up, and to find the truck again after losing its tail once or twice. (Even though it felt weird to be doing this in sneakers and her boyfriend’s affectionately stolen jacket, without any extra eye protection. At least she knew to keep her mouth shut so she wouldn’t swallow any bugs.)

She’d been following for more than a minute, they had left the city, the sun was going down, and she still couldn’t shake that feeling that something was wrong here. Something familiar about the boxes they’d loaded… she couldn’t get close enough to verify that without being seen herself. Once they were out of city limits, they got moving too fast for her to get a good moment and shoot off a text with more elaboration, she had to keep her eyes on them and stay moving constantly to keep up. (Which sucked, because she was starting to think that the quick [Checking something out, won’t take too long <3] sent an hour ago wasn’t going to cut it at this point.)

They were in another town. She hadn’t caught the name. The truck had pulled into an area that wasn’t quite a parking lot, but also wasn’t small enough for Hailey to want to call an alleyway. Sheltered by buildings on all sides, nowhere high profile enough to have a night guard, just workplaces whose occupants had all gone home by now.

It was behind one of these buildings that Hailey had touched down and leaned as close to the corner as she dared, peeking out through a shadowed area.

The truck’s occupants didn’t seem to be unloading yet, almost as if they were waiting for something. They all seemed pretty distracted talking to each other, and their conversation wasn’t damning outright but it also wasn’t reassuring her. They spoke roughly, though only one of them looked rough enough to match. Whatever was in the boxes was important, somehow, but she couldn’t tell whether they were trading them to someone else, waiting for some kind of signal, or just stopping for the night. It was getting a little late, but they hadn’t been driving for that long since loading up…

“Did you ding up my truck?” rang out louder than everything else, coming from a shorter but muscular woman who had just walked around to the passenger side, where Hailey couldn’t see from her current vantage. The others swarmed to look, several of them taunting the one who seemed second tallest out of the group.

Hailey didn’t like not being able to see them all clearly, but the bonus here was that they couldn’t see her either so she could lean out a little more to get a better look at the boxes, finally catching a glimpse of the symbol on the side of one–

Eyes widening, she heard herself gasp, then drew back immediately and would have scolded herself if it wouldn’t definitely give away her position.

Someone needed to know about this, now.

After a few seconds of holding still, with her heart racing in her ears, it… didn’t sound like anyone had raised an alarm.

Not wanting to risk being heard moving, she floated herself a few steps farther back before taking out her phone, gripping it tightly so her shaking hands wouldn’t drop it again.

Had it not been silenced that whole time? (It was on vibrate, sure, so it wouldn’t be blasting pop lyrics unexpectedly, but she took an extra second to make sure its sound was completely off, and turn down the brightness for good measure.)

The first thing she saw was the last text window, now with several increasingly concerned follow-ups from her boyfriend. Her index finger hovered over the quick call button, but… she couldn’t risk it right now. She’d just hide its light against her shirt, float back to make sure she could still hear a casual conversation, there wasn’t a need to fly straight up and hit the panic switch. She could hide again and start to type, quickly not even fixing the mistakes caused by shaking or by fingertips being a little too cold for the touch screen to read immediately.

(A tiny smile couldn’t help forming when she saw [Hot HotBaby <3 is typing…] pop up on his side of the texts just a few seconds after she started. It was also a relief to know there would be a quick response.)

He knew about her… situation, with her power being “confiscated” and how it had happened, so he would know the urgency of getting this news out just as soon as she could tap out something at least slightly intelligible–

There was a face reflecting behind hers in the darkened glass.

With the phone against her chest again, she jumped forward, turning midair just in time to see something crash down in the space she’d just been occupying.

“Caught a little birdie over here~!” Called out the muscular woman from before, who was perched in a windowsill on the building Hailey had been using for shelter. How had she gotten there so quietly?

The thing that had crashed looked like it was made of the same concrete as this exterior wall. Some kind of material manipulation power? Specifically stone-like materials, or–

Whatever it was, Hailey was getting out of there immediately.

Two things happened before she could get more than an inch or so off the ground: Something heavy slammed into her from behind, and something solid caught around her ankles, trapping them in place. She was able to use the leverage from being stuck to keep from getting completely bowled over, but that would’ve been easier to recover from if she weren’t being held down and kept from getting any altitude. Arms came around and she realized the weight was a person (and that there were now several more people in the alley than there’d been a second ago).

This may have just gone from a situation to a Situation.

Fortunately, she had finely honed reflexes for just this sort of unexpected combat situation. Unfortunately, those reflexes relied on a power that she did not currently have.

Instead of a blast of cyan energy weakening the concrete bonds or making her assailant rethink their current course of action, what she got was a sudden icy numbness shooting from her fingers and palm up through her entire arm as her hand’s shaking intensified. That made it harder to try to wrestle them off manually, especially since she was still reserving one whole arm for protecting her phone and trying to hit the call button without looking.

Things were escalating a little too quickly. She managed to clumsily grab, twist, and throw them off before bending down to pull at the things wrapped around her legs, willing her fingers to keep working through the feeling of being frozen from the inside. (The phone was kept hugged to her chest– the less attention she drew to the light it let out and the attempts she was making to call for backup, the more likely it would be to do something.)

“Think you can break concrete? Good luck with that.”

There was a snort, then someone’s hand in her hair. They got her head pulled back before she could duck to the side and bring her forearm up to knock them away. All but one of the people from the truck was now clustered around her, as casual as if looking at a cool bug someone had found instead of a person who’d just caught them transporting–

“Hey hey wait is that Comet. You got heroes on our tail?”

“No way, Comet would’ve blasted–” The hand was back in her hair and the only reason she hadn’t lost her balance and fallen was that she was technically still flying right now. At least now she was wearing more of a glare than a look of wide-eyed panic. “Holy–”

For the first time, Hailey had a moment of second-guessing her decision to be a more publically open hero.

“Back off or I will start blasting,” she said, straightening up suddenly, and with enough force that there was actually a pause as wary eyes went to her hands… 

And just enough quiet that the pre-call dialing sound could be heard from her phone.

“Shut her up.” Concrete Woman snapped and the group jumped into action.

It wasn’t the most choreographed assault Hailey had ever witnessed or been the target of, but it was still difficult to fight off four people with one arm that refused to respond consistently or register when it was touching something, while stuck to the ground. Before the dialing could finish, she found her arms being wrenched out of her control and someone behind her again with a forearm pressing sharply against her neck. She could get out of this hold if she had both hands free, but she refused to let go of the phone yet, she wasn’t confident enough that she could get out of this without any backup.

When she heard it pick up, the only sound she could get out was a –literally– strangled gasp, to which she felt that chokehold tightening further. None of the others spoke. Through wavering vision, she caught a couple of nods and jerking of heads in lieu of verbal communication.

‘Hailey?’ came the sound of her boyfriend’s worried voice, sparking off a fresh round of struggle as she turned her head and yanked her hand back, trying to get a less dangerous angle in the chokehold so she could get out one word, and trying to keep any of them from hanging up on him before he could hear it.

For her troubles, a hand pressed in over her mouth and nose and someone twisted her arm painfully, digging their nails into her skin, until the phone clattered to the ground.

Some of her muffled cries must have been heard, because she could hear her name being repeated more urgently, then breaking off into something she couldn’t quite catch because either he’d gotten quieter or there was a little too much blood rushing in her head.

Her eyes had been squeezed shut with effort, but even when she opened them everything was getting a lot darker than it really should be, and she was having trouble making sense of what she saw. Having gone still for a second, the hold stopped getting tighter and she was able to make out the rectangular glow, someone had picked it up, then another glow like it was being surrounded by some kind of energy… The form of someone drawing back to throw at maximum strength.

With whatever breath she had left, she screamed against the hand as loudly as she could, cut off after less than a second when it felt like her neck was suddenly crushed.

Voices picked up again as the spot of light sped into the distance and disappeared, but everything was already going black.

#whumptober2021 #no.2 #choking #oc #writing #lady whump #going unconscious #heroes and villains #sssshv #comet #first superpower there is some kind of stonelike material manipulation #the other one is some kind of like telekinesis that specifically encapsulates small objects before they can be yeeted a very long distance #whoever tracks her phone's signal is going to get the wrong area of town #wordcount 2150

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter eight

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Chapter seven was published yesterday, in case you missed it! I was too lazy to make a tumblr post.

*

The term rollercoaster didn’t seem strong enough to describe the last six weeks of Chloe’s life. 

Seeing Beca again. Leaving Marco. Getting clean. Finding out she was pregnant. 

She felt like she needed to stop and take a minute to remind herself to breathe, but the weight pressing on her chest prevented her from sucking enough oxygen into her lungs.

“You’re…” Beca blinked twice in slow succession. “...pregnant. With a baby.” She grimaced in the next beat, releasing a breath. “Sorry, I-- I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Chloe couldn't blame her for being shocked. She swallowed thickly and cleared the lump from her throat. “I made an appointment for an abortion. Tomorrow.”

Tears sprang up into her eyes before she could stop them, and she lifted a hand to her mouth to muffle the sob itching to come out. 

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out, shaking her head. 

“Chlo…” Beca murmured, setting a hand over Chloe’s back and the other one on Chloe’s. “You don’t need to apologize. What you’re going through is incredibly hard, and… if an abortion is what you feel is the best option, then that’s what you should do.” 

Chloe had always wanted to have kids one day, but this was the worst possible timing. She didn’t have a place to raise that baby, or a job, not to mention that she was a recovering addict. 

She nodded along to Beca’s words, as though attempting to convince herself further. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Beca asked. “To the appointment?” 

Chloe hesitated. “I don’t want you to miss work because of me.” 

“You’re more important than work,” Beca argued softly as her thumb stroked Chloe’s knuckles back and forth. “And I don’t think you should be doing this on your own, you know? But I don’t want to overstep either, so it’s completely up to you.” 

Chloe sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away. “I… I think I’d like it if you could be there.” 

“Done,” Beca instantly said, nodding firmly. She cleared her throat following a few beats of silence. “So um, is there anything you should do for your recovery? Now that you’re out of rehab, I mean.” 

“The therapist there recommended one in the city, I need to call and book an appointment. I’m going to my first NA meeting in two days. Otherwise, I’ve been told having a routine could really help? Like go for a morning walk, do some yoga, cook, clean… that sort of stuff. But all I want to do right now is crash for a few hours.” 

Beca nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let me know if I can do anything to make things easier on you, okay?” 

Chloe managed a small smile despite how heavy her heart felt. “I’m already so grateful for what you’re doing for me, Bec.” 

“It’s what friends do. Help each other out.” 

Chloe ended up sleeping for four hours straight. She had never felt so exhausted in her life, and she guessed it was a mix of the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy and rehab finally hitting her. She didn’t eat much for dinner and mostly pushed her food around in her plate, knowing most of it would come back up as it had for the last few days. 

She and Beca got to the clinic ten minutes before Chloe’s appointment that next morning, and after filling out the paperwork, they were led into an exam room, where Chloe was asked to change into a paper gown. She sat down on the edge of the bed once she was changed, her eyes sweeping over the many baby pictures lining the wall. 

Her attention shifted to the door when it opened, a middle-aged woman stepping inside. 

“Hello, Chloe,” she greeted with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m Dr. Harris.” 

“Hi,” Chloe returned quietly. “This is my friend Beca.” 

“Nice to meet you both,” Dr. Harris said as she approached. “I was told you’re here to terminate your pregnancy?”

“I-- yes.” 

“Okay. As one of the nurses probably told you over the phone, I need to check how far along you are first so we can figure out if a procedure is required,” she explained, setting her chart down and snapping on a pair of gloves. “When was your last period?” 

“I-- I’m not sure.”

She used to take the pill. But when you’re fortunate if you remember to eat one meal a day, it’s also easy to forget to renew your birth control prescription. That was just another detail among the many in her life that seemingly had ceased to have consequences or meaning the further she slipped down that rabbit hole. 

“Okay, that’s alright. Can you lie down please, and put your feet in the stirrups? I need to do a vaginal ultrasound so we can see better.” 

Chloe nodded, scooting back and lifting her feet. She reached for Beca’s hand as nerves sprouted in her belly, immensely grateful for her presence. 

“This might not be the most comfortable feeling, but I’ll try to be as gentle as possible,” Dr. Harris said as she placed a condom over the wand before slowly inserting it. She tapped a few keys on the ultrasound machine, gently moving the wand around until a clear image popped up on the screen. It was another minute before she spoke again. “Okay… given the size of the embryo, you’re about seven weeks along, Chloe.” 

Chloe puffed out a breath as a kaleidoscope of emotions swept through her. This was her baby, up there on the screen, and the sight of it suddenly made her question everything and ask something that she would regret shortly after. “Can I-- can I listen to the heartbeat?”

The doctor glanced at her. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed. “I’m sure.” 

Nodding, Dr. Harris pushed another key, and the most beautiful sound filled the room a second later. A steady, strong woosh woosh. Tears sprang to Chloe’s eyes, and she felt a squeeze to her hand as she attempted not to let them fall. Her own heart constricted in her chest, so hard it was nearly painful. 

“Turn if off, please,” she croaked out, shaking her head as her lids slammed shut, those tears sliding down her cheeks and curling around her chin. 

The doctor shut off the machine and withdrew the wand a few seconds later. “You can put your legs down, Chloe.” 

Chloe nodded and straightened, taking the tissue Beca offered her and blowing her nose with it. 

Dr. Harris watched on, her eyes soft. “You still have some time before making a decision.”

“Did it look healthy?” She found herself asking, then figured she should explain. “I just got out of rehab. I did cocaine and drank a fair amount of alcohol on a daily basis up until four weeks ago. And I was given um...” Chloe scratched her forehead as she raked her brain for the medication name. “Gabapentin for the first two weeks of rehab to help with withdrawal.” 

Dr. Harris’ features remained professional as she nodded slowly. “The heartbeat is strong, and I didn’t catch anything abnormal. The risk of miscarriage is more present than for other pregnancies as the drugs crossed through the placenta when you were still using, and that up to twelve weeks. Problems could occur during and after the pregnancy. But the baby could also be perfectly healthy, since you stopped in the early stages of pregnancy. It’s hard to tell.” 

Chloe’s mind swam with all these possible scenarios, and she didn’t know whether to listen to her brain or her gut feeling. “How-- how much time do I have to decide?” 

Dr. Harris slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “Abortion is legal up to 25 weeks in New York state. Up to ten weeks, you can take a pill, past that a surgical procedure is needed.” 

Chloe sniffled, swiping the back of her hand under her runny nose. “Okay. Thank you.” 

Dr. Harris cast them both a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. I’ll leave informational pamphlets at the desk for you to read, as well as my phone number should you have any questions.” 

“Thanks,” Beca said as the doctor walked out, then focused back on Chloe, reaching out to brush her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed? I can go get those pamphlets in the meantime.” 

Chloe nodded, her insides caving in as soon as the door clicked shut behind Beca. She gripped the edges of the exam cot hard, her nails digging into the leather and her breathing turning chopped as a mix of panic and sadness unleashed within her. 

It all seemed unfair, but she knew her own recklessness was the root of the situation she found herself in. 

She eventually managed to calm herself down enough to get dressed, meeting Beca by the desk ten minutes later. The walk home was silent, and Chloe was grateful Beca didn’t push her to talk. She didn’t even know how to process her own thoughts, let alone speaking them aloud. 

A few days passed. Chloe slept a lot, and tried to keep herself busy the rest of the time. One hour each morning consisted of hugging the toilet while she puked her guts out, and the rest of her day was spent craving that warm embrace of the rush cocaine once brought her. 

The temptation was there. She knew there was a store on the corner of Beca’s street that sold booze, and she knew there was enough change in the bowl by the front door to afford at least a couple beers. 

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to. Not after seeing that tiny blob on that screen and listening to its heartbeat, because the biggest part of her wanted this. She knew it deep down, but she couldn’t silence those same voices that had been making her life hell for the past four years, telling her that she was bound to fail at this like she did with everything else. 

Chloe woke up that Saturday morning to a churning stomach. Scrambling out of bed, she stumbled to the bathroom across the hall and made it just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the ceramic bowl.

She slumped back against the wall afterwards, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she reached out to flush the toilet with the other. Chloe glanced up when Beca appeared around the corner, a sympathetic smile curving her lips as she stepped closer and handed Chloe a steaming mug. 

“Ginger tea. I read it helps with morning sickness.”

Chloe accepted it with a quiet thank you. She cradled the mug between her palms, her head tilting back against the tile behind her as she exhaled. “You can sit, if you want.”

Beca nodded and lowered herself next to her in the tight space, their thighs and shoulders touching. “Do you… want to talk?”

Chloe sucked in a sharp breath. “I feel… lost,” she croaked out, her head rolling to the side to look at Beca. “Before the appointment, I was so sure terminating the pregnancy was the wise option, but then I saw it on that screen and heard its heartbeat and…”

“You realized the wise decision is maybe not what you want?” Beca supplied when Chloe trailed off. 

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom,” Chloe whispered before she broke eye-contact, focusing on the mug she held in her hands as she blinked away the tears filling her eyes. “But it’s crazy to even consider it, right? I don’t have a job, I don’t have my own place, and I’m still battling with my own mind because I crave something. All day, every day since my last hit.”

“But you didn’t cave,” Beca pointed out softly. “I know it’s only been four days since you got out of rehab, but you didn’t cave, and that’s already an accomplishment of its own.” 

“I just… I don’t want to harm this baby more than I’ve possibly already done,” Chloe admitted quietly. 

Beca nodded, and reached out to take one of Chloe’s hands, tugging it into her lap gently. “If keeping this baby is what you want to do, those things you’re worried about have solutions. You may not have a place of your own, but I’m not kicking you out. Even with a baby. This is home for you as long as you want or need it. A job shouldn’t be too difficult to find. Maybe it won’t be the greatest one on earth to start with, but it will be something to get your head back in the game,” she paused, tilting her head to the side and seeking Chloe’s gaze. “And what you just said? About not caving because of the baby? I can’t think of a better proof of your ability to be a great mom. You’re already putting that baby before your own needs, and I can’t even fathom how great and out of control those can become, and I think that’s admirable. And for what it’s worth, I think you should trust what your gut tells you. I listened to my brain instead of my heart once, and ended up making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” 

Chloe let Beca’s words resonate within her, basking in the temporary peace they brought her. There was no doubt about where her gut feeling lay on this.

“I feel like I’m turning your life upside down,” she whispered after a while, sniffling. “You’ve done so much for me already, I don’t want to keep abusing from your generosity, or jeopardize your relationship with Sarah.” 

“You’re not abusing anything, Chlo. I promise,” Beca murmured with a squeeze to her hand. A stretch of silence settled between them, until Beca spoke again. “You still have time to think about it. Just know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll support it.” 

Over the next week, Chloe found herself picturing what it would be like, caring and nurturing for that baby and raising them. For the first time in five years, cocaine wasn’t the first thing she thought about when she woke up, or the last thing on her mind before going to sleep. 

For the first time in five years, it felt like she had purpose, in trying her best to be the mom her child deserved. That meant staying clean, leaving those demons behind where they belonged, and getting her life back together one day at a time, for that innocent being that came to light in the darkest time of her life. 

She woke up earlier than usual that morning, and headed to the bathroom to pee, pausing as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. A soft gasp escaped as she lifted her shirt and ran her palm over the barely perceptible swell in her lower belly. It wasn’t there yesterday, and Chloe felt tears pool in her eyes. 

Happy ones. 

“Hey there, little one,” she croaked out, her heart swelling against her ribcage as she rubbed slow circles over her skin. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?” 

She puffed out a long breath, a watery smile breaking through. 

One day at a time. 

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #chloe beale #beca mitchell

[cloveroctobers]

LEVEL 1 — Perception

A/n: to make things easier due to my hectic work schedule...I’m deciding on writing blurbs or short fics for right now, to get content out in a timely manner. I’m open to writing pairings but I notice those don’t get that much attention but I’m attempting to do so anyways...at least at the start of this series which is absolutely inspired by we’re not really strangers. I love the game, it’s very personal and intense so if you have the chance, get it if you’re open to connecting with the people you care about in a passionate way. I’ve also decided to make the characters a little bit older...college wise/around the actors ages based on these questions lol even tho these teens are already dramatic + have a lot going on.

Synopsis: a interviewer that Spencer is very familiar with, Rochelle Mosley has resurfaced to complete her senior year project at Claremont as a journalist. Rochelle is all about going big and never going home, so the first person on her list is one of the guy’s that intrigued her the most not so long ago. So she reached out to Thee Spencer James and to put the word out to anyone else that might be interested. And here we are!

::: S. James + O. Baker ::: All to me

Rochelle is seen running her finger over her pearly whites, making sure they’re squeaky clean after eating her brunch which consisted of a poached egg, an açaí bowl, served with lemon water. She already spent twenty minutes brushing her teeth and whitening them last night to prepare for this moment. She knew this idea would guarantee her nothing but a A+. She had friends from the film department around helping her with the equipment and due to this Panasonic it made things chaotic opposed to having this interview face to face.

Rochelle knew that she could have at least met with Spencer for his half but decided to do what he was comfortable with. She wouldn’t push any boundaries...yet. Regardless it would have to be a video call since Olivia attended MassArt and appeared that she would not be coming back to California any time soon, according to her insta stories that is.

Nonetheless Rochelle knew how to negotiate so here she was working on their terms. With a sigh, she straightened out her posture, fixed the waves in her hair, reapplied some matte lipstick—again, glanced around her to make sure she liked her set up and eyed her friends to make sure they were doing what they were getting paid for, and plastered on a commercial smile as she connected the video call waiting on her two guests.

It only took a minute for Spencer’s face to pop in.

“Spencer!” Rochelle greeted which he replied with slight raised brows and a smile at her volume, “so glad you can be here and punctual at that.”

Spencer answered, “well you know, if I agreed to be something I don’t want to waste anybody’s time ya know?”

“Always the wise one aren’t you?” Rochelle commented before continuing on, “how are things? How is UCLA?”

“I really like it here, uh. I’m almost done with my sophomore year, but with the way things are looking right now? Might have to switch to remote this spring semester...we’re all basically on standby at the moment. It’s crazy times but we gon’ get through it, I know it.” Spencer chatted with ease.

Rochelle was multitasking looking to the side at her phone to keep track of time. Olivia Baker was five minutes late now, which was slowly working Rochelle’s nerves. The girl had her number and although they didn’t talk much through texts or through anything really, it was common courtesy to let someone know if you were going to be late or couldn’t make it.

“Yes! We have to keep a optimistic attitude as best as we can. I hope you’re being safe out there?” Rochelle met Spencer’s eyes, after silently debating if she should send Miss. Olivia a text.

Spencer dipped his head, “absolutely. And yourself?”

“Oh yes, honey. This thing is ruining lives unexpectedly but it’s insane to me that people believe this isn’t real. It’s the denial for me. Especially here in California! Then when they catch it, it’s suddenly a different tune. Sure the numbers might be a little questionable but not too much is a lie. Read the facts, do the research. But—

Olivia showed up. Eight minutes later...

Rochelle forced a smile, “Olivia Baker! How nice of you to join us.”

“I know, I know. I’m super late and I’m sure you don’t want to hear the excuses so let’s just dive right into this social experiment project thing you have going on. Sorry by the way.” Olivia rambled which Spencer chuckled at.

Olivia paused, “hey, Spencer.”

“Hey, Liv.”

Rochelle picked up on the chemistry or tension or whatever you want to name it. It was all still there and oh so fresh. She knew this would be good and knew they had to be the first on her list. Sure Rochelle maybe a year or two older than these two but she also had friends that were younger and gossipers like her so she always had the inside scoop when she needed it. So yes, she knew all about spelivia.

“How’s Boston?” Rochelle asked politely, breaking the two’s stare contest.

Olivia inhaled, “it’s better than California, that’s for sure. It feels like I’m getting a fresh new start and it’s just what I needed.”

“Yeah i see you’re at your best there. You seem to be thriving.”

“well yeah, because it’s new. Sometimes you need to get away, I mean I’ve been in California for eighteen years of my life. I always knew I wanted to be somewhere else...don’t get me wrong, California is still very much my home.”

Nice save there, Olivia.

Rochelle clasped her hands together with a wide smile after a small silence filled the air after Olivia’s statement.

“Moving right along, I’ve sent the both of you a series of questions that you both should have received correct?”

Spencer pulled the padded envelope from the side and waved it in front of camera. Rochelle smiled at how organized this guy was and shifted her glance to Olivia who widened her doe brown eyes.

“Ah, yeah I’ve got that. It should be around here somewhere? Hopefully. If it’s not then it’s definitely in the car.” Olivia pointed.

Rochelle sighed, “very well. Please proceed on retrieving the envelope, it’s crucial to this interview.”

Olivia scooted back from the desk and held up a finger as she disappeared from the screen. Rochelle turned back to the brown boy who was toying with the tan object.

“Have you read any of the questions, Spencer James?”

“I really haven’t had the time to, no.”

“Great!” Rochelle quipped, “this will make this experience truly authentic.”

Spencer thought about what was said, wondering where this would get him. He understood what Rochelle informed him in the email and she answered all of his questions. He knew this wouldn’t strictly be about him and Olivia since he invited his friends along for the ride as well.

“Please open the envelope as we wait on Olivia. BUT only read the first question on the first card, we don’t want you to get too far ahead of yourself since that wouldn’t be fair to Olivia.” Rochelle instructed while Spencer took a small inhale before doing so.

Spencer read over the card, his eyes flying over the words as he read them pretty quickly. He hummed at that which Rochelle began to question him on but Olivia announced her presence.

“I’ve got it!” She let out in a sang-song voice.

“Olivia, please open the envelope but only read your first card’s question. Spencer has already done so while we were waiting for you,” Rochelle instructed before turning back to the sophomore, “Spencer, whenever you’re ready please read the question and answer.”

How would the person closest to you describe you in three words?

Olivia halted as she pulled out her own card as Spencer showed the card while reading it from the side.

“I’d think they would say I’m...compassionate, hardworking, and...loving?” Spencer announced, taking his time on thinking that over.

It was Rochelle’s turn to hum as she asked, “Do you agree with his choices, Olivia?”

Olivia was confused. “W-what?”

“Would you say Spencer is: compassionate, hardworking, and loving?”

Olivia quickly recovered, “we don’t know if Spencer is referring to me on that question.”

“Spencer, when answering this question who are you saying is the closet person to you?”

“I—uh—I consider a handful of people that are close to me.” Spencer expressed, “but I’d be lying if I didn’t say Olivia isn’t the first person that came to mind. Even though there’s a shift right now in our...relationship due to the distance—among other things...we’re still the closest and that speaks for itself.”

Rochelle gave a smug smile as she looked at Olivia who opened and closed her mouth. Before Rochelle could encourage Olivia to read her question, she already went forth after clearing her throat a few times.

What reality show do you think I’m most likely to binge watch? Explain.

Olivia peered up at Spencer.

“Oh? I’m supposed to answer this about her now? Aight. Lemme see...i don’t know you seem to find a lot of free time to watch things...maybe it’s a film major thing? Months ago you were watching ‘I love New York, then you told me you and Simone were watching ‘Love is Blind’ or—

“It was actually ‘married at first sight’.” Olivia cut in.

Spencer widened his eyes and pointed at the screen with a small laugh, “that makes sense.”

“Why?” Rochelle wanted to know.

Spencer’s answer was firm, “that’s not our business to tell.”

Rochelle scribbled a quick note on that, ruling these two out on that question to ask later. She made sure to circle Simone’s name and put a question mark next to it.

“To answer your previous question,” Spencer redirected the interview back, “since a lot of these were love reality shows...I know that’s not the only genre you watch and you listen to a lot of podcasts. So I’m gonna say this show called, ‘alone.’”

Olivia blinked.

Rochelle waved her hands as she signaled for one of her friends to find the show on the laptop they were on, “have you watched this show, Spencer? And please elaborate on why you chose this show for Olivia?”

“No I haven’t. I only saw the trailer for it randomly when I was on YouTube watching lebron’s greatest moments clips.” Spencer replied earning a snort from Olivia and a eye-roll from Rochelle, “I picked that show because Liv feels that way, always. Like she’s never been seen before, truly seen. And this show tests these guys to survive on their own in the wilderness, putting not only their bodies but their minds through a lot. It’s mainly about survival that much I gained from the trailer. Liv’s always been a loner for as long as I’ve known her and feels that’s how she knows how to survive by doing it all on her own when she doesn’t have to. I see that and I understood that from my first day at Beverly.”

...

#all american #spelivia #Spencer James #Olivia Baker #all american cw #spencer x olivia

[ampleappleamble]

—

Stubborn and haughty, it read. Dismissive of the soul sciences, as befitting his Aedyre heritage. Very rude and difficult to work with.

"Unbelievable," Aloth spat.

Upon leaving the sanitarium, the group had jointly decided that perhaps their trip to the expedition den could wait until the following day. However, there were still a few loose ends around town to tie up, and a few more hours of daylight in which to do it. Nevertheless– and despite his objections– Axa insisted that Aloth stay behind and rest at the inn, give his nerves a brief respite after all he'd been through that day while the rest of the party tended to business. And so now he sat in his room at the Charred Barrel, alone with his thoughts.

And with Bellasege's research notes.

How relaxing, he thought, glaring hatefully at the little stack of papers.

Most of the document was utterly unintelligible to Aloth, consisting of either overly technical animancy jargon or Vailian hen scratch, but what little she'd bothered to scribble down in Aedyran only asserted what he already knew– that this woman was a charlatan, a sensationalist hack more interested in reinforcing her own harebrained assumptions than in helping anyone. Least of all him, considering she evidently knew exactly what his fellow Aedyrans thought about animancy and the Awakened and yet she still intended to publish his full name and home province along with her ludicrous excuse of a diagnosis. All she was after, as he suspected most animancers were, was fortune and glory, and his reputation was apparently a sacrifice she was willing to make in the pursuit of that goal.

He had known since the instant the woman had started transcribing his very personal, very private memories that her notes would somehow have to find their way into his hands, so as soon as he'd seen his chance, he'd taken it– and as soon as he'd secured the notes and slipped them into his cloak, he'd seen Axa watching him. Not expecting to be caught in the act, he'd frozen in horror, silently pleading with the little woman to turn a blind eye– and he'd been pleasantly surprised when she'd done exactly that, glancing furtively at Bellasege and then back at him before turning her back on them both and heading for the door, the barest hint of disapproval in her eyes.

Part of him couldn't help but think that that was why she'd left him here by himself– because she was disappointed with him for betraying Bellasege's trust like that, promising her her long-sought prize only to rip it away immediately afterwards, and right under her nose to boot. But he reminded himself that Axa wasn't the kind of woman to practice punitive shunning like that, and if she'd had a problem with what he'd done, she'd have discussed it with him, probably even called him out right there in the animancer's office. After all, she had to know that it had been her who had truly helped him, not Bellasege. So what would she care if that fraud no longer had anything to show for her so-called efforts?

"'Be ever honest, forthright, and true'– fye, yer a fine auld piece o' work, laddie."

Iselmyr had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since her outburst in the sanitarium, her appetite for bickering seemingly sated until now, and Aloth jumped at her sudden resurgence in his mind. "Maybe you'd be perfectly fine with word of our condition becoming common knowledge back home," he retorted, recovering quickly, "but I would rather keep our private matters private. Besides, I didn't hear you objecting at the time."

He was expecting more of her usual sharp-tongued impudence, but was surprised when Iselmyr only scoffed softly in his mind instead. "Naught t' object tae. Fer once."

Iselmyr not sassing him was one thing, but Iselmyr actually agreeing with him was quite another. Stunned into silence, Aloth could only blink stupidly as Axa's words back at the sanitarium popped into his head– "Try it her way, let her in"– when there was a knock at the door, and, grateful for the interruption, he bid his visitor enter.

Axa stepped in slowly, carefully, only cracking the door just enough to allow her inside before shutting it behind her. "Hey," she smiled, rubbing at a fresh bruise on her forearm as she crossed the room. "Just got back. The others are downstairs having a late dinner. How're you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied breezily, shifting position to face her, frowning as he gestured to her wound. "Looks like you had an eventful evening despite my absence. What happened?"

"Oh, nothing serious," she sighed. "Helped an old man find and free the soul of his long-dead lover from a necromancer... gave an orlan who'd found himself on the wrong side of the law a second chance at life... exorcised a lighthouse by striking a deal with some pirates... The usual, you know." She grinned up at him briefly before thrusting her chin at the sheaf of paper in his hands, clearing her throat. "Still figuring out what you're gonna do with those, are you?"

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm going to do with them," he sneered, twisting the notes into a tight little tube in his hands. "I was just looking though them first for any information that might actually be useful to me. I'm sure it'll surprise you to learn I found nothing." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "She didn't even get the color of my hair correct. You wouldn't happen to need a light for your pipe, would you?"

Axa laughed and declined politely, and so Aloth narrowed his eyes at the animancer's notes, gesturing with his free hand and whispering a few arcane power words, and in a few seconds the papers were ablaze, quickly crumbling into ash on the floor. Another gesticulation, a few more muttered words, and seconds later even the blackened remains were swept away into the aether, leaving nothing behind but a gray smudge on the rug.

"Well, that's that then." Axa sighed, shaking her head as she stared at the smokey spot. "Shame you two couldn't have helped each other more."

He looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. "More? She didn't help me at all. She pointed some contraption at me, humiliated me with prying questions, and when she couldn't even be bothered to put together her own conclusions, she relied on you to fill in the gaps. If anything, my destroying her ridiculous notes is evening the score."

"I know you've not much love for animancers, Aloth, but Bellasege really was trying. Whether it was to help you learn about yourself or to further her own knowledge of the soul sciences, I can't rightly say, but still." The orlan planted her fists on her hips, regarding him cautiously. "Personally, I think she was in over her head a bit. But how can we expect animancers to improve any or to advance the craft as a whole if we don't cooperate with them every now and again?"

"That would be fair enough if their methods were ever anything approaching sound," he retorted. "But you heard her. Black bile? My spleen? Drivel. Quackery. And publishing my identifying information like that is entirely irresponsible. What if someone from home were to see it? I'd be ruined." Color had crept into his face as he'd spoken, and he paused a moment to collect himself, but only succeeded in winding himself up further. "The only reason we figured out anything about my condition from that farce in her office is because you and I have half decent educations and a modicum of common sense between us. Imagine your average kith– Hel, your average Dyrwoodan going to a woman like Bellasege for a consultation. Big words and shiny gadgets are all most people need to believe just about anything a con artist like her can conjure up."

The little woman raised her eyebrow at him. "You do bring up some good points, I'll grant you that. Question is, what's to be done about it? As it is now, the only authority anyone seems to want to exert over the practice is to either let animancers– or anyone who calls themselves animancers– go totally unchecked, or to ban animancy completely. Is there to be no middle ground?"

"It's not our political leaders' jobs to understand animancy's deepest nuances so they can legislate it 'fairly'," he sighed, gently massaging his temple. "They've enough to contend with without having to study an experimental new branch of science, particularly in the Dyrwood."

"Then why not make animancers the ones who decide? Or, at least, give them the chance to advise those who do the deciding." Axa's eyes brightened as she argued, reminding Aloth uncomfortably of Kana. "A council of well-respected animancers, perhaps, selected from among those most trusted and revered in their fields."

Aloth's lip drew back in a grimace. "Let animancers legislate themselves? That's a recipe for disaster if ever I heard one."

She shrugged. "Just tossing out ideas. We'd all probably fare better that way than we do in the chaos we have now."

"I don't see how, but... seeing as it's coming from you, the idea might be worth considering." The words were out of his mouth before he really realized what he was saying, and he jolted slightly to hear himself say them.

She laughed. "Don't go around pinning all your trust on any one person or institution completely, Aloth. Not even me. You'll regret it, trust me."

He smiled at his feet, cheeks and ears growing warm. "As you say, Lady Mala. What's on the schedule for tomorrow, then? I'd join you and the others and discuss the matter over dinner, but if I'm being honest, I'm having a rather difficult time working up an appetite for yet more overboiled stew and watered wine."

Her demeanor changed in an instant, her casual slouch straightening, her face abruptly flipping from relaxed to sober. "Wyla, the justiciar from Crucible Keep that we talked to this morning, caught us on our way back here," she stated gravely. "Heritage Hill will be open to us tomorrow morning."

Aloth froze. "Heritage Hill," he repeated softly. "Did she... have anything to say about the conditions beyond the gates?"

She shook her head again, a haunted look drifting into her eyes. "Apparently, it's bedlam in there," she murmured. "Patrols go in, but they don't come out. The dead walk the streets."

"And the Leaden Key has something to do with it all," he finished for her.

"They do. They must. And we're going to find out what. Together," she answered, determination hardening her voice. She gave him a feisty grin, then, lifted her eyes to meet his, and the intensity of her gaze made him avert his. "So you'd better get some rest, then, if you're not going to eat."

He chuckled amicably. "As long as we don't get anymore unexpected midnight visitors, I'm sure I'll be well rested come morning."

She scoffed and swatted him lightly on the knee. "Well! I'll just bind my feet before turning in for the night, shall I?"

They laughed together for a moment, then, and Aloth felt something inside him finally loosening up and spreading throughout him, like an enormous flower made of light and air blooming in his chest. It made him feel warm and giddy and free in a way he never really had before, and the feeling persisted even after Axa had spun on her heel and sauntered across the room, smiling at him one last time before disappearing into the hallway beyond, pulling the door shut behind her. He didn't know exactly what it meant– he'd never felt it before, so how could he?– but he had his suspicions, none of which he was really prepared to get into tonight. So instead he got ready for bed, smile still stuck to his warm face as he changed into his nightclothes, washed his face, brushed his hair.

Was ye e'er plannin' on tellin' her it was yerself whit let her intae yer room last night? He could practically hear the cheeky little grin in Iselmyr's voice.

"No," he sighed, "because it was you who did that, not I. And you know it." He was still smiling. He couldn't seem to stop.

Fye, lad, whit diff'rence dae it make?

"All the difference in the world," he answered, and with a flick of his wrist, all the lights in the room simultaneously snuffed out.

—

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #yes it's a joke about the wiki saying he has 'dark brown' hair #it's black though........? #also holy shit chapter 11 is finished #polishing and posting the full chapter soon! #thanks for reading ♡

[greywritesfics]

Chapter Twenty-Six: Training

Minori took a deep breath, her hands clasping the doorknob. She had never seen her mentor prior to this. The only thing she was aware of was his name, Hatake Jiyuu, and that was only mentioned quickly by Aizawa as he filled her 'Hero Agency' paperwork. Shaking her head as if to disperse the nerves, she opened the door.

What she hadn't expected the moment she opened the apartment door was the pain. A crushing impact was sent through her abdomen, and she coughed out the breath stolen from her. Her briefcase that housed her costume slid across the room away from her grasp as she fell down onto the hard surface, her vision blurring from the pain.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to clamber up to her feet, her vision dotting with black spots.

"I'm surprised you can still get up after that," a lilting voice called out, and she could vaguely see the outline of a skinny man relatively shorter than her as he walked over to where she was. "Your movements are slow, young lady. At this, you would have been dead had this been a villain attack."

Huh? What the hell was happening? Minori blinked as her vision cleared, giving way to spy an old man standing over her. An orange kimono encased his body as his face crinkled in a soft smile.

"Lesson number one, always expect the unexpected."

***

Holding an ice pack against her head, she winced at the shuddering cold. Her body was slowly recovering from the earlier surprise attack, although she was still completely and utterly confused. In a way, she could understand that it was his way of teaching her to always be on the lookout.

Her mentor sat across from her with his eyes shut, waiting for her to heal. Disturbing the silence that surrounded them, her mentor spoke up, startling her. "Minori." She eyed the old man with a wizened face and a back perfectly straight with as much intensity as he gave her. "Follow me," he commanded.

Tossing the ice pack on the table, she trailed behind him. They exited his home into a backyard as large as a park. "You lack flexibility," he stated suddenly as he abruptly stopped walking. There, the two stood in front of a patch of grass, and he turned to face her, surprisingly serious-looking, opposite of how he had looked earlier. "Training starts now, first to get knocked down loses."

It was as if his words sparked a fire into Minori's eyes as she loosened her limbs and readied her stance. Immediately her mentor lunged for the white-haired girl, taking her by surprise. His arms held her shoulders firmly in his grasp, and she failed to evade the knee that came straight for her abdomen. The impact knocking her back a few meters, but not forceful enough to be pushed to the ground. She was taken aback by his speed and accuracy. "Slow," her trainer mumbled, listing on her weaknesses as she failed to defend herself from his onslaughts. Getting more and more frustrated from the man's jabs at her, her moves began to grow sloppier by the second. Soon enough, he had knocked her down, winning.

Minori narrowed her eyes as she lay on her back, her teacher, who had been standing up, hovered over her.

"You're too emotional," Hatake Jiyuu commented, reaching out a hand to grasp hers as he pulled her up with a combined effort. "Listen closely, young lady, the control of your Quirk is subpar. You waste too much time trying to concentrate rather than being flexible and adapting to the situation surrounding you. If you want to be a Hero and use your Quirk effectively, you need to understand your abilities, and it's obvious that you don't. Air manipulation interconnects with your mind and body. If you're stressed, then your body is stressed, and most of all, your Quirk. The moment you become too emotional and centralize on beating your opponent, you become sloppy, allowing way too many openings for your enemies. And your hand to hand combat still needs work."

Nodding to the girl as he finished, his eyes crinkled as he smiled, an aura of absolute optimism surrounding his figure. "Now that you know what you need to work on, let's begin."

"If you want to master your Quirk, you must focus on avoiding resistance," Jiyuu Sensei mentioned before he blew a large gust of air toward an area surrounded by gates. "The key is to be like a leaf. Flow with the movements of the gates." Nodding as she acknowledged her teacher's words, she entered the gates, only to bump into them constantly. "Airbending is all about spiral movements when you meet resistance, you must be able to switch direction at a moment's notice."

Until the moon rose and the sun fell, Minori was taught the mechanisms of her Quirk. Since air manipulation is almost purely defensive, she needs to utilize a martial arts technique known as circle walking. Recognized for its constant circular movements, maneuvers employ their entire body with smooth and coiling motions, using dynamic footwork, open-hand techniques, punches, and throws.

The next morning, she faced the gates again. This time she had made it into the middle of the field before bumping into a barrier. Her mentor mimicked the movements of circle walking. She was able to witness how swift and evasive he became with the help of the art. Evoking intangibility and explosive power of the wind. "The key is to draw energy from the center of your abdomen."

As the sky darkened and sweat draped her skin, Minori still hadn't reached the gates' end. She could feel the throbbing of her head as she grew more irritated.

"You're concentrating too much again, young lady."

She scoffed, "how else am I supposed to learn if I don't concentrate?"

"Well, you could always remove your brain, although I don't recommend that tactic since it could lead in death," he joked. Jiyuu was met with silence as Minori blinked. "Alright," he drawled, eyes roaming anywhere but his student. "Tough crowd."

"Let me ask you this then, what do you do to clear your mind?"

She shrugged, eyes flickering up at the sky as she sat down onto the grass across her mentor. "I meditate, I guess. It helps me become more aware of the shifts around me."

"Good, good," he nodded. "It's necessary if you wish to master your Quirk to get into a mindset of freedom."

"But, when I meditate, it helps me concentrate more," she frowned, confused why her teacher kept pushing on the motive of freedom.

"That's because even then, you're overthinking. Meditation is meant to help you allow your soul to wander, like the air. Simple, peaceful, with no chance of doing anything wrong. Close your eyes, we'll begin."

Huffing, Minori straightened her back as she let out a breath of air through her nose, her lashes connecting as she joined her teacher in darkness. And for the rest of the night, they wandered like air.

The next day, Jiyuu decided against starting with gate training first. Instead, they meditated. Advising her new breathing techniques to keep warm and gain proper breath control.

Now newly relaxed, she faces the moving gates. Exhaling a breath, she closed her eyes and moved. She realized the sudden shifts around her quicker with a new mindset, circle walking as she moved, switching directions instinctively. When she reached the end of the field, she turned around, eyes wide, and adorning a cocky grin as she flipped off the gates that were still moving. Finally, she thought.

Though the second a hand landed on her shoulder, she stopped, straightening quickly. She mentally berated herself for losing her composure until Jiyuu started laughing hysterically, jumping around the field as he flipped the gates off with her.

***

"Now, let's move onto the obstacle course."

At this point, Minori isn't surprised at what's hidden behind this forest of a backyard her teacher had. But as they reached their destination, grey eyes roamed the area. Seeing that it consisted of suspended airbags, a rope to cross, several balancing posts, and finally, a large rock wall to climb.

"How are you even allowed to have all this?" Minori mumbled as she stretched.

"I'm old. If I play the dementia bit, I can get away with anything," he answered without thinking, shrugging. Minori felt the corner of her lips twitching in a smile at her mentor's joke before starting the course.

When Minori passed through the obstacle course with ease. She could personally feel lighter and discerned the extreme difference in her agility and speed from the beginning of the school to the current day. It's not like she'll say it aloud, but Jiyuu has helped a lot. She knows she still has a long way to go, but maybe she'd finally be able to become a Hero destined to lift the sin that plagued Hecate, Japan.

***

While Minori and Jiyuu mediated, a thought flittered her mind like a bird flapping its wings through the sky.

"Jiyuu Sensei?"

"Hm?" he opened one eye as he peeked at his student that sat across from him.

"Why'd you agree to mentor me?" she probed.

Hatake Jiyuu let out a breathless sigh as he looked wistfully up at the moving clouds as if reminiscing about his past. "I knew your mother, I actually trained her," he said. "She had perfect control of her Quirk and would have gone far in the Hero world if it weren't for her betrayal. Her treachery was a shock; nobody saw it coming, not even her teacher. After your mother's debut and disappearance, I retired. Too ashamed to walk the city as a Hero only for my student to have annihilated a population of civilians. I thought if I had known better, I could've prevented the tragedy." As he closed his eyes, Minori picked up how his shoulders slouched like his past was haunting him. "Time has aged me, young lady, and I know better now. Even if I went back in time, I would never have prevented what Tatsumaki had done. I didn't choose to mentor you because you're my last student's daughter or because I thought that teaching you would weigh down the guilt I felt. No, I picked you because you have potential, and most of all, you can right her wrongs. You're a miracle, Minori." His words were soft, filled with a hidden emotion only he knew.

"No," she whispered, her eyes brimming with newfound tears from his confession. "If I'm some miracle, then why am I treated as the criminal of Hecate."

"Because people are dumb," he said, bending down as he placed a hand over the girl's shoulder who shriveled into herself like a wounded animal. "Generalizations, fear, and pain do that. Even so, we can't concern ourselves with that. Instead of focusing on what was, act on what is. The negativity of the world can't put you down unless you let it get to you. You're the salvation Hecate has been searching fourteen years for, their sole survivor."

Minori bent forward, covering her face with her hands once the first tear broke free. Every word that Jiyuu said was filled with sincerity and serenity. The way his small eyes gazed into her with softness and full of hope, she began to cry with the force of Niagara's fall. Her tears falling in an unbroken stream.

She continued to cry until she couldn't anymore, and her throat became hoarse from the wails. When she finally removed her hands from her face, her mentor was right there, a glass of water outstretched for her to take.

Grasping the drink, she eyed the translucent liquid, following the light waves that moved from the wind blowing by them. Silent wishes, hopes, and dreams kissing her skin as the cold water slipped down her throat.

 Taglist: @sslimkim​ @x-bakudeku-x​ @angeldraw​ @alex-hale666​ @iambashfulperson​ @somanyfandomsidek​ @sir-knight-slytherdor​ @seokookchan​ @namutheestallion​ @avengershavethetardis​ @honeybacon​ @fckngbored​ @ineedmyownname​ @myaaa-xoxoxox​ @mega-bastard​ @succulent-momma​ @can-i-just-like-it​ @soa1eater​

A/N: Fun fact! Jiyuu was inspired by Monk Gyatso from Avatar The Last Airbender :) I really wanted to convey his personality from ATLA here, especially his kindness and playfulness! Thank you all for reading, and again I apologize for the delayed update. <3

(If you would like to be added to the taglist lmk!)

#rebirth #chapter twenty six #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x original character #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x oc #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #black oc #oc insert #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x poc #ki minori #bnha ua #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x black oc #bakugo x reader

[bumblebeug]

Felinette. Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me Pt. 4

Hello Everyone! I wrote a really long chapter, I hope you enjoy it. @7701deathlyhalfbloodprincess, @captainmac6, @iwantswifttoblessmysoul, @lady-flora-of-slytherin -Thank you so much for your support! And @dargeon-lissa, thank you for replying to my question all the way back at part two! 

So without further adieu:

Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me Pt. 4 

“Oh, mother,” Lila whispered hoarsely, “I’m sure I’ll feel much better by lunch.”

Her mother’s brows drew together in concern, “Darling, don’t push yourself too hard. You don’t want to make what you have any worse.”

Lila sat up lightly from her position in bed, “Of course Mother.” She blew her nose delicately, “I promise that if I don’t feel up to it, I won’t go. I’d hate for anyone to get sick because of me.”

Mrs. Rossi bent forward and smoothed her daughter’s bangs to the side and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I know dear, that’s what makes you my special girl.”

Eyes closed, Lila leaned into her mother’s kiss and breathed in deeply. Instead of wearing the perfume that Lila spent weeks picking out, her mother was wearing the one her boyfriend had chosen. She wrinkled her nose. She had forgotten that he was back in Italy. Waiting to take her mother’s precious time away from her again. If Lila got her way – which she was sure she would, he would soon be a forgotten memory for her mother too.

Too soon for Lila’s liking, her mother pulled away softly exclaiming, “Oh my. Is that the time?” as she checked her watch. Mrs. Rossi planted another kiss atop Lila’s head, “Dear, remember to keep your liquids up – I have another late night again, but there’s soup in the fridge.”

Mrs. Rossi paused at her daughter’s doorframe, “I love you. Please feel better.”

“I love you too Mother – don’t worry about me; I’ll be just fine.” Lila called to her retreating back and listened to the click of the front door. Lila meant it too; she always turned up on top. She got what she wanted. And right now, she wanted Felix wrapped around her finger like all the others at school. Yesterday’s research had been a failure, Lila thought as she opened her laptop, but today she would discover what the mysterious new boy liked.

----------

Marinette woke up with her first alarm feeling energized and practically sprang from the confines of her sheets. All thanks to Adrien, yesterday had been amazing, she thought dreamily. Well. It had been overall amazing. At first, everything had been a little stiff and awkward but as the day wore on, she gradually stopped worrying that everything would fall apart. It had felt good to be with everyone again. With luck, she thought as she brushed her hair, today would be a repeat. She caught her eye in the mirror as she was tying her hair into her customary pigtails. Hmm. Maybe she could shake it up a bit.

~

Marinette held a fresh box of croissants and waved goodbye to her parents as she left the bakery. She was proud of herself – she had finished up the notes that Felix requested, got to braid her hair, and, best of all, there was a chance she would be able to sit with her friends again today. After all, maybe Lila really was sick. The chill morning air hit her face pleasantly as she walked.

With a giggle, Tikki flew up to Marinette’s shoulder, “You look like you’re going to start dancing in the streets, Marinette.”

Grinning, Marinette gave a little twirl, “I can’t help it! Look how well today is already going. I finished Felix’s notes, sketched out a phenomenal jacket for Jagged, and I even woke up with the first alarm!”

“Not to mention enough time to make your hair so pretty.” Tikki stroked a lock of her French plait. “I told you that everything would work out.”

Marinette giggled at Tikki’s smug expression, “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” She stroked Tikki’s forehead with her finger, “Patience and sacrifice pay off in the end. Don’t let it inflate your big head.”

Tikki swatted Marinette’s finger in mock outrage, “My head is not big! It’s perfectly kwami sized!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender, “Of course.”

Tikki nestled against Marinette’s neck, not willing to go back in the purse, but wanting to ward off the morning air all the same.

“Hey Tikki?” Marinette’s carefree attitude slipped a little.

“Mmm?”

“Do you think that Hawk Moth is planning something again? Something big?” Marinette gripped a strap of her backpack and dropped her voice, “Like Hero’s Day?”

Just because the class had become more balanced of late, didn’t mean that the rest of Paris was. Every day it was full of frustrated, upset people. The fact that Hawk Moth had scaled back so drastically made her feel antsy. The lack of akumas made Marinette feel uncomfortable like there was an itch that she couldn’t reach. Tikki plucked at the tense fingers to loosen their grip,

“If he is planning something, we’ll be ready for him. You have grown so much since we’ve been together – I know that we’ll be able to handle whatever he throws at us.”

“Yeah… you’re right,” Marinette straightened her shoulders, “We can do anything as long as we’re together.”

They neared the gates of the school.

“You better hid now though. School awaits.”

Tikki gave Marinette one last pat before diving into the opened purse.

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

Gabriel Agreste silenced his alarm before dragging his hand down his face. He hadn’t slept last night. Or the night before last for that matter. As of late, his days were a consistent sludge. The upcoming fashion show was eating him alive. He had spent so much time as Hawk Moth, he hadn’t been designing – brushing it off as a future concern. But now the fashion show was practically on top of him and he had very little to show for it.

Groaning, he rang Nathalie and requested she bring him the strongest caffeinated beverage she could find. Cursing himself, he looked over his sketchbook and cursed himself for ignoring the schedule Nathalie had set up for him so many months back. He couldn’t reschedule the show – it would be too suspicious. Enjoy your free time while you can Ladybug, Gabriel thought bitterly. Right now, there was no time for villainy – not when his reputation was on the line.

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

Felix tapped his pen against his desk, thinking. The student representative had certainly been affected by the change in seating yesterday – her shoulder’s, which had been stiffly pulled back in the morning, had relaxed into a more confident pose as the day wore on. Still. There had been something off – just a flicker of unease that held her back. He wondered what it was. A small part of him hoped that it was some kind of epic intrigue. A secret side to her that she was hiding, keeping her from being her true self. But he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. Just because he had moved to a place inhabited by superheroes and villains, didn’t mean that everyone’s life was just as fantastical as the city they lived in.

Today his interaction with her had been brief. She apologized for the delay in notes and offered him a croissant. He declined the croissant, he had the model-standard strict diet, but accepted the notes. Then, nonplussed, she left for the seat she sat in yesterday and that was that. Looks like today is another one of observation he thought as he brought his thermos to his lips.

-----------

Alya gave Marinette a sly smile as she took a croissant, “Trying to doll it up for our resident sunshine boy?”

Marinette blushed, she hadn’t had Adrien in mind when she changed up her hair – but now her mind started to race with possibilities. Adrien might compliment her hair and if she could manage to keep her cool, then they might start dating. And years from now today would be remembered as their anniversary of first getting together. And –

Alya snapped her fingers in Marinette’s face, “Whoa girl, careful – don’t get lost in la-la land so early in the morning, we might never get you back.”

~

“Girl, don’t look now but Mr. Icicle is burning a hole in the back of your head again. You say something to piss him off or something?”

“Pft. No way, Marinette is sweet as sugar – what could she have done to piss him off in the three days he’s been here?” Nino laughed.

Marinette started to turn around only to be stopped by Alya’s firm hand on her shoulder, “What did I just say?”

Alya continued, “Let’s review the facts: first, he’s barely said five words to anyone here! Second, he completely rebuffs any attempt at conversation. Third, he rejected a croissant.” Alya bit into her own for emphasis, “How on earth could anyone with a soul resist one of these? Even Mr. Top Model’s willpower isn’t that strong.” She gestured towards him, “Look – he’s trying to sneak one as I speak.”

Adrien abruptly snatched his hand out of the box, looking abashed, “Well… you said it yourself – Felix didn’t want one, so that means that there’s extra.”

Marinette rested her hands on her cheeks, Adrien was so cute it should be illegal. She knew she wouldn’t be able to speak so she just nodded when he turned a pleading gaze on her.

“Thanks, Marinette!” Adrien said as he helped himself.

Nino glanced up towards the back, feeling uneasy. Felix really was just staring at the group with an unreadable expression. He didn’t like the way that Felix’s gaze lingered on Marinette in particular. “Hey,” he stated cautiously, “Marinette.”

“Mhm?” Marinette replied, still recovering her speaking faculties.

“Alya’s right. He really is focusing some major lasers on you right now.” He pushed his glasses up, “You’ll tell us if he does anything weird…right?”

Marinette’s eyes widened, where was all of this coming from? Did he unsettle everyone that much?  Alya flicked the rim of Nino’s hat down, “What this goofball is trying to say is that Adrien told us that he has a bit of a reputation in the modeling world as being a jerk and that you should watch out.”

“The worst thing I’ve done is give him some notes late.” Marinette tried to turn around again only to be thwarted again by Alya.

“Uh-huh, no way – ” Alya was cut off as Adrien interrupted, “Actually, that might be enough to get on Felix’s bad side. He is… a little temperamental.”

Nino drew her attention again, “Look all I’m saying is that he gives off a weird vibe. Alright?”

Marinette felt a warmth blossom in her chest, Nino really was the right choice for the turtle miraculous. All he wanted to do was protect his friends. Marinette solemnly drew her hand up to her heart, “Nino, I promise that if he does anything I don’t like – I will tell you straight away.”

---------

Sometimes, Felix forgot that books weren’t loud. That no one but he could hear the klaxons blaring as the two intrepid heroes made their desperate escape from the deadly, evil Overlord. For him, once properly engaged, the noise of the action would drown out the meaningless chatter around him until he was running down the hallway with the heroes – listening to them as they planned and worried for their safety.

His total engagement with the text meant that any outside distraction was, to say the least, upsetting as he was jarred back into the real world. The sound would abruptly cut out for a disorienting moment and the characters would fade back into the typeface. It was always incredibly aggravating to be ripped away from a story like that.

“Sorry.” A voice said. Only it didn’t sound sorry at all. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to say how much I loved that novel.”

Felix placed his thumb on the page and looked up.

“I’m Lila Rossi, by the way.” She smiled wide, “I was the last new kid to transfer here, so I hope that we will become best friends!” She thrust her hand out to shake.

Felix flicked his eyes to her hand briefly before returning to his book. Hopefully, if he made an example out of Rossi then no one else would try to interrupt him while he read. Obviously, his hope was in vain; he made it a paragraph before she started speaking again.

“Oh! I can understand why you would want to get back to it – it’s just such a good book!” She simpered, “If you want, I could get you a signed autograph from the author the next time I see him…I was recently selected as the voice for the audiobook.”

That got his attention.

Felix trained his eyes on her, “Do go on.”

Lila grinned like the cat that got the canary, “Oh yes. I was a volunteer reader at a hospital one weekend and wouldn’t you know it? The author also happened to be visiting at the same hospital! He heard me reading his book and loved how I read it so much that I was offered on the spot to read for the audiobook!” She finished brightly.

“Well,” Felix cocked and eyebrow and pulled his lips into a half smile, “Isn’t this just a happy occurrence?”

The five minute warning bell went off and students began to file in from lunch.

“You better go to your seat Miss Rossi.” Felix said sotto voce, “Wouldn’t want to be late.”

Rossi giggled and sauntered away.

----------

Marinette fought off a groan of disappointment; Lila was back. She turned her eyes heavenward as if to ask why the gods hated her. Guess it was too much to hope for a day as perfect as yesterday. But maybe, she thought as she eyed Lila striking up a conversation with Felix, this was a hidden opportunity?

“Do you think it would be alright if I stayed here? Just for today?” Marinette timidly asked her friends.

Alya sighed, “C’mon girl, you know that Lila needs this seat.”

Marinette felt her shoulders sag slightly, knowing it was a lost battle as Adrien averted his gaze and Nino nodded along with Alya. She didn’t understand why he let them believe her lies.

The warning bell rang.

“Oh Marinette,” Lila greeted with false enthusiasm as she approached, “Do you want to finish today with your friends? I could always sit in the back with Felix.”

“Oh, but Lila,” Marinette answered in the same tone, “Don’t you have terrible hearing difficulty?”

She had her! Lila was contradicting herself!

Lila’s smile was shark-like, “It turns out that my hearing issue was a longstanding symptom of what I was sick with yesterday. But I’m much better now and would be happy to move for today! He and I already have so much in common.” Lila continued slyly, “Plus, I would love to get to know Felix more and share some of the things I wish I had known when I first got here.”

Marinette grit her teeth through her smile. She should have seen that coming.

“That sounds like it was serious.” Marinette pulled her phone out, “Would you mind telling me the name of the disease, so I can look at the symptoms? I wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.”

“I – It’s rare.” Lila hand waved, “I must have gotten it from my extensive travels.”

“I just want to know the name of what you had.” Marinette pressed, “Unless you made it up?”

“Marinette!” Alya spoke up, “That’s enough. If it’s rare then the name is probably long and hard to remember, right Lila?”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember Marinette,” Lila’s eyes started to well up, “I’ve just been suffering for so long with it, the relief of having it gone is so strong that I don’t even want to think about it anymore.”

Alya stood between Marinette and Lila to place a comforting hand on the latter’s shoulder. “Hey,” She said softly, “It’s ok. We understand.” And sent a sharp look at Marinette. “She made a nice offer. What do you say? Swap for a day?”

Marinette’s eyes darted from the empty seat to empty seat, feeling her pulse start to ebb. She bit her lip as she thought about it. It was tempting. It was what Marinette wanted. And that’s what so obviously made it a trap. She turned over what Lila said before Marinette challenged her sickness and the big picture clicked into place. Marinette felt her resolve harden – she had to warn Felix that Lila was a lying snake.

She picked up her bag. “Actually Lila, thank you but no thank you – I should sit in my assigned seat.”

Lila’s face crumpled, “I can’t believe you don’t want me to make new friends.”

Marinette placed her foot on the first step.

“I cannot believe that you would be this petty Marinette.” Alya hissed.

Marinette’s shoulders hunched but she continued upwards.

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

“She’s a liar, you know,” hissed a voice in his left ear, “Whatever she told you – it’s a lie.”

Startled, Felix realized that Marinette was sitting beside him once more. When he frowned at her, she tensed like she was preparing for a fight. His frown deepened further in response, “I’m not an idiot, thank you very much. I know a liar when I hear one.”

“How?” she demanded.

“How?” Felix questioned back sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Pretty easy to tell it’s a lie when the author of my book has been dead for the last 20 years.”

Her laughter caught him off guard.

She couldn’t help it; the relief of having someone know that Lila was a liar paired with his deadpan delivery was too much for her. The laugh that followed came straight up from her stomach and through her mouth.

“Personally,” Felix leaned closer and murmured, “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she realizes her mistake.”

Tears of mirth formed in Marinette’s eyes as she laughed helplessly. This was too perfect.

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

This was more what he pictured Dupain-Cheng to be like. Mirthful.

He knew that no one who wore as much pink as she did could be as serious a person as she first presented as. Felix found that he liked it better when Dupain-Cheng looked like she fully enjoying herself. He hadn’t actually meant to be funny, but once she started laughing, an impish desire had him leaning forward deliberately to see how hard he could make her laugh.

“Do you think she’ll be able to look me in the eyes once she learns?”

He grinned as the tears started to escape down her cheeks.

“How long do you think it’ll be before she can?” He practically purred.

“Twenty –”   Marinette gasped, “Twenty years!” and promptly collapsed back into giggles.

His smile was toothy and full. This was too fun, he thought and raised his voice so Dupain-Cheng could hear him over her own noise, “Now quiet, you are going to disrupt class.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“It’s nice to actually meet you.” Felix said more quietly now that she had herself mostly under control.

“Nice to meet you too.” Marinette sniffled back. She hadn’t laughed, truly laughed, like that in ages. It had felt good to sit with her friends but it felt better to be believed. Tikki was right again, Marinette thought ruefully, she wasn’t alone.

“Let’s be friends,” Marinette said a little impulsively.

“For twenty years,” Felix said warmly by way of agreement and watched with amusement how red Marinette turned as she tried to reign in her composure once more.

-----------

Part One 

Part Two 

Part Three 

Part Five 

Whew! Glad you guys got through it. Gotta admit, there are some parts that I’m not completely happy with, but if I don’t post it now, I never will. 

And fun fact! The scene where Felix is making fun of Lila is one of the scenes that initially inspired me to buck up and finally start writing. 

Comments, questions, and critiques are welcome. Also, if you want to be tagged for the next part - don’t hesitate to let me know!

#felinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml felix #felix culpa #nbehtm #nbehtm pt4 #miraculous fanfic #alya salt #ml lila #lila Liar #alya is quick to judge #ml tikki #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #long post #no beta #ml salt #ml salt fic

[intoanothermind]

The Glue - Part Three

T H E   G L U E

Word Count: 3.8k words

Synopsis: Glue or Variable? This is the big question about Frankie’s existence. Assigned to the same role as Newt in WCKD’s Lethal Experiments, Frankie suddenly realizes that she will become just a variable to activate brain reactions in her former Group A friends. Without memories and being the only girl among several boys, she has the feeling of already knowing some of them. The new question that matters to WCKD is: will Frankie play her role as a variable correctly?

- Newt x OC (Frankie)

Masterlist

<Part 2 | Part 4>

(This will be a miniseries of Newt from Maze Runner. It will consist of 7 parts and a spin-off. I won’t do a reader insert as usual, but you will soon understand why.)

—

P A R T   T H R E E

The girl paced back and forth, from hall to hall. She didn't want to participate in those stupid challenges again. She was exhausted from them, and although she now understood WICKED's goals after five years there, she didn't agree. It wasn’t fair that now hundreds of children had to suffer for a incorrigible mistake the egoism of the government made. It wasn’t fair, even more when she had managed to access the secret reports that said they would be exposed to the Flare virus at some point in the future Phase 2 trials. And she knew someone who wasn't Immune.

So whenever she could, she would dodge her challenges with the other girls and sneak into the boys' dormitory wing. She looked through the door with the GA1-10 sign, from the room belonging to the Group A individuals, from 1 to 10. Her non-Immune friend would be there, as usual at any other time. She wanted to spend as much time as possible with him.

She knocked and waited for thirty seconds, as agreed. She heard the doorknob turn, and seconds later the door opened revealing a boy, instantly recognized by the girl. Brown hair and eyes drawn, Minho hugged the girl and guided her inside after checking if any WICKED agent was following her.

"You shouldn't come every day, Frankie, it's dangerous!" Muttered Minho, saying what he always tells the girl when she was going to see them.

"Stop being a killjoy, Asian boy." Said a voice behind them, with the strong British accent that always soothed the girl.

“Newt!” Exclaimed the girl with a smile from ear to ear to hide the tears that threatened to spill.

“Hey there, shorty!” The ten-year-old blond boy greeted her, but didn't expect the girl to throw himself into his skinny arms, hugging him tightly.

“Will you guys never stop calling me Asian boy?” Complained Minho, but he laughed.

The girl turned away from the blonde, laughing too.

"Admit it was the best nickname I got after Newt." She said.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Frankie is a better nickname!”

“But this was me who invented it!” Said Newt, and the girl laughed.

“Where are the other boys?” She asked, looking around and seeing the untidy, empty beds.

Newt shrugged. “They went to eat.”

“Pack of hungry idiots.” Muttered Minho.

“Perfect, I have more time with you.” Said the girl, smiling and throwing herself on the bed that she knew was Minho’s.

The two boys threw themselves beside her, talking and joking. The girl knew moments like this wouldn't last forever. So she promised herself that she would enjoy it while it last.

~ * ~

I opened my eyes a little sleepy, only to find that the Glade wasn’t just a figment of my imagination or a nightmare from which waking up would be enough to find that nothing was real. And now, more than yesterday, I wanted to know where I came from. Did I usually wake up alone or did my mom call me? Or did I have a sister and share a room with her? And my dad? I found him sitting at the table and reading a newspaper every time I went down to have breakfast or he was going early for work so he could return soon and spend more time with me?

I sighed, feeling sadness and melancholy hit me hard as I realized that I may never know the answer to these questions. I wriggled free of the sleeping bag, already feeling the weak sunlight striking my skin, even though I couldn't see the sun in the sky above the Glade. I tasted bitter in my mouth and my stomach growled. I knew Newt slept with the keepers at the Homestead, maybe I could go there and ask if I could get something from the kitchen. But it was possible that I had to wait for the Frypan’s breakfast. I straightened my hair with my fingers while walking through the grass towards the Homestead, promising myself that I would also beg for a toothpaste.

But I didn’t make it to the Homestead.

I saw a movement in front of a construction that I haven’t noticed yet. A few yards south there was a squat building, apparently made of coarse concrete blocks, with only one steel door as its only entrance. And it didn't seem to have windows. At the door was a large round knob that looked like a helm wheel. That door looked like the entrance to a submarine or a safe - and I had no idea why this comparation popped into my mind. In front of the construction, I saw Minho and a boy who, if I was right, was called Ben talking a bit rushed. Both had a backpack on their shoulders and knives on their trouser belts.

I looked in in the Homestead direction, wondering if Newt would be wake. I shrugged - I could find him later - tucked my own machete in my belt and walked towars Minho and Ben. Curiosity spoke louder than my desire to see Newt.

“Good morning, boys.” I greeted shyly, but still smiling.

“Hi, Newbie!” They said excitedly, and I rolled my eyes.

“Where are you going with those backpacks?” I asked, making myself sound innocent.

They looked at each other before Minho answered me.

“There.” He said simply, pointing to what Newt had called Doors, still closed, but I had a feeling they could open at any moment.

I frowned. “And why?”

Ben bit his lower lip and Minho rubbed the back of his neck, as if he wanted to tell me, but they didn't know how or could not.

“We can't talk much to a newbie before the ride.” said Minho. “But everyone here has a job. Alby will explain this to you, but our job is to go there.”

I watched him, looking for something in his expression that indicated a lie, but found nothing. So I decided to give him some trust.

“I won't ask much, I'll wait for this tour.” I said, smiling slightly.

“Good that.” Said Ben, smiling at me.

Minho looked at the digital watch on his wrist, animosity taking over him.

“It's about time, isn't it?” I asked, smiling sadly.

“Yes, the Doors will open soon.” Answered Ben. “The other are ready at the other doors.”

l bit lower lip; the idea suddenly popping into my head.

“I’ll follow you.” I said, and Minho's eyes widened, about to answer. “Relax, just until we reach the Doors.”

Minho opened his mouth to protest, but finally nodded and we followed towards the South Gate, between the forest and surrounded by animals. The walls projecting all their grandness and I felt a sensation of suffocating and claustrophobic. I sincerely hoped that my irregular breath wouldn’t seem as much. We stopped in front of the door, and I avoided looking upwards to the impossible height of the walls. It was scary and intimidating. The same noise from the night before was heard, the rough, dragging rock sliding against rock. Dust was raised, transforming it in a horror movie. I resisted the urge to cover my ears to prevent the loud noise. And then, as impossible and abnormally as the night before, the Doors began to move, all four on the right, opening a long corridor ahead. At the nearest Door, I could see two boys running down a corridor even before the Door was fully opened. Minho and Ben waited, maybe for me to recover before they left.

“We have to go, Frankie.” said Minho.

I gave her a small smile. “I'll be waiting for you to come back.” I promised.

Minho smiled at me, placing a kiss on my forehead. If it were anyone else, I would have been uncomfortable, but with Minho I just felt again the same familiarity I'd felt before, like a tingling in the corner of my mind. Ben just waved at me, and they left just leaving a sentence in the air.

“See you later, Shebean.”

I still stood there for a while, just watching the end of the huge corridor where Minho and Ben disappeared on the right. The light didn’t seem to reach the ground, and the ivy on the walls seemed thicker, which made it cold and mysterious and frightening. I was torn between the fear of entering and the curiosity to explore.

“What are you doing here at this time?” Asked a voice behind me.

I got out of my trance and turned to face Newt and his messy blond hair, as if he'd come to see me as soon as he woke up. I almost smiled at the thought, but I suppressed the laughter before it was too late. It would be better to keep my thoughts to myself.

“Good day to you as well, Newt, sleep well?” I asked sarcastically and he laughed.

“Good morning, Frankie.” he said, opening a smile so beautiful and worry-free that could brighten the day of anyone.

And I smiled automatically and answered your question.

“I came with Minho and Ben until here.”

Newt's eyes widened. “Minho told where he was going?!”

"Not really, he just said his job was to go out and that Alby would explain to me on that tour." I said, grimacing at the thought that I would spend some time with the boy who didn't seem to like me very much.

Newt sighed.

“So let's get started with this.” He said and I frowned in confusion. "Alby doesn't trust you so much because you’re the first girl to appear here, so since I'm second-in-command, you 're under my responsibility."

I widened my eyes. “Your responsibility? Second-in-command?”

Newt chuckled.

“From all I said about Alby not trusting you, all you heard was that I was second-in-command?” He asked, half joking and half surprised.

"Well, I can't say I was surprised or hurt, I was expecting it. It's not as if I trusted him very much either.” I said, shrugging as if it were unnecessary information.

Newt rolled his eyes and I laughed.

“Can we start?” He asked.

"Will I finally have my answers?" I answered with another question, and he nodded. “Then we can.”

Newt guided me across the the grass towards the center of the Glade. I didn’t really understood what he intended, until I saw double doors metal lying in the ground, covered with a white paint, cracked and worn.

"This is the Box, Frankie, and once a month a newbie arrives for us." Newt started. “Every week it comes up with more supplies, clothes, food. It isn’t much, but we already produce the most here in the Glade.”

I remembered the fields with corn and the sound of animals in another corner in the Glade.

“What do you know about the box?” My tongue started and I couldn't hold back the questions.

“Almost nothing.” He admitted, his mouth twisting. “Whoever sent us here won’t tell us anything. Those shucking Creator watch us day and night through a mechanical beetle blade that seems to be everywhere. The good thing is that we can ask for some convenient things.” He said with a wink.

I laughed.

“And where does the electricity come from?” I asked.

Newt shrugged. “We don't know, we just use it.”

Damn things that put us here, I thought irritably.

“The Glade is divided into four parts. Gardens,”Newt continued, pointing to the northwest corner where the fields and fruit trees stood.  “where we grow most of what we eat. The Blood House” pointed to the southeast, where there were waterfalls and animal enclosures. “where comes the water, which is pumped by pipes on the ground. Never ran out of it, which is strange since it never rains. We also raise and slaughter the animals there. The Homestead you already know.”

I nodded, trying to absorb as much information as possible, even if it resulted in more and more doubts.

"We call it Deadheads," he pointed to the south west corner, where the forest was marked by the presence of several dead and diseased trees. "The cemetery is in the middle. There isn’t much, but you can go there to rest whenever you want. For the next two weeks, you will work one day with each Kepper to know where to fit in and where to go to work.”

Newt then turned south, pointing to the door that lay between the Deadheads and the Blood House.

"See the door and the corridor before her, Newbie?" He asked, and I nodded. “Over there is the Maze.”

Widened eyes, stunned with the news.

“Ma-maze?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Newt confirmed with a serious face. "The oldest one of us living here have been stuck for two years”, and all our lives revolve around the Maze, finding a way out of this place and being able to return home."

I thought a second about that word home. What, after all, would be our home? A pile of bricks that together formed a construction less uncomfortable than the Homestead? Or a world we no longer know for the lack of memory?

"One of the jobs we have here," Newt continued, snapping me out of my train of thought, "which is forbidden to any Newbie are the Runners."

“Which is what Minho is the keeper of.” I commented, coming to conclusion myself.

“Exactly. They run the Maze every day, mapping every inch and every path...”

“And why then didn’t found their way yet?” I interrupted him.

Newt flashed a light, amused smile. “It was getting there. Well, it's hard to map to find a way out, because the Maze changes every night, the walls moving. Literally.”

I was still amazed. And I'm afraid my brain would explode.

“Besides, there are the Grievers.” Said Newt, and I frowned. "They are beings who go out every night in the Maze, and if the Runners are trapped there, they will not return." he said with a different emotion in his the voice. I knew he had some personal proximity to the Maze. "No one ever survived a night there. I'd even show you how they are through a window, but I don't want to submit you to that.”

"And that's how you hurt your leg?" I asked, pointing to his limp leg before I could even realize what I was doing.

Newt's face turned into a dark mask. “I don't wanna talk about it, all right?”

I just nodded, even though something in the back of my mind told me I was right, but that the Grievers had nothing to do with it.

‘Now let's get to the basic rules. And the only ones we have.First rule: everyone here should do their job without laziness.” I nodded to show that I understood. “Second rule: we al respect each other, then no hurting another Glader, although I think you  can’t kill a fly.” He laughed, and I rolled my eyes but followed him. “And last and most important rule: never, never, cross the walls for the Maze. Only Runners have this permission.”

I nodded once again, feeling a swirl of questions clouding my mind, but I shut up, realizing that maybe Newt wouldn't be willing to answer all of them.

“Now, Frankie, I need to go help make the fire for your welcome party, but you’re already starting with the work.” He said, and then flashed a mischievous smile.  “What do you think about starting with the Slicers?”

~ * ~

“Shebean!” I heard Minho's familiar voice and jumped up.

I was waiting for a few minutes in front of the South Door, where I said goodbye to Minho almost ten hours ago. I worked all day with Winston and the other Slicers, but had asked him to let me know when it was about Runner’s time to return. So when it was a few minutes earlier, I just washed my bloodstained hands and ran to wait for Minho.

“Minho!” I shouted, truly glad to see him, and just waited for him to cross the door's boundary to jump into his arms and hug him tightly.

And we didn't care that I was smelling of slaughter pig and he was sweating like one.

"I didn't think you would really be here." He commented, smiling and releasing me.

"I said I'd come, shuckface ." I joked, winking.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight of me. “Slicers?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes.” - I confirmed. "I hope tomorrow is some better job. I am feeling a lot of klunk.”

“Where's Newt?” He asked, and I pointed to the corner of the Gardens, where Newt helped the Builders prepare what he called "my welcome party " Understanding flooded Minho's face. "Ah, so I'll take you to the bathroom myself for a shower. Ben!”

Only then did I realize that the blonde came not too far away.

“Hello , Newbie.” He greeted me, and I waved at him, smiling.

"Can you take care of the maps while I take her to the Homestead?" Minho asked him.

Ben nodded, and Minho guided me towards there.

"While you 're taking a shower, I'll try to get you some clothes and try to keep the other boys out." Minho offered, and I accepted, smiling.

We went through the door and towards the bathroom, but not without before being stopped by a dark haired boy and a serious expression. Alby.

“Shebean.” He said, and I scowled. There was something about the way he called me Shebean that didn't look anything like Newt or Minho called me. Alby used a derogatory tone in his voice every time he addressed me. “The machete.”

I frowned angrily and put my hand over the machete handle on my belt to protect it.

“Why you?”

“Only Runners are allowed to carry weapons in case they see any Grievers.” He said, indicating Minho beside me with his chin.

“B-but...” I tried to argue, trying to keep my irritation at bay.

“But, as you are a girl, then I’ll allow you to have it.” Alby said, as if he was doing me a big favor or a huge sacrifice.

And the hatred took me completely. So the leader of those guys needed to be sexist and prejudiced? Suddenly I was disgusted to have that machete in hand, as if that was the necessary proof that I was, and always would be, weaker than he was. I quickly unsheathed the machete in a hurry and threw it at Alby's feet.

“I don't need this to beat any of you.” I said, disgusted, and went straight to the bathroom.

~ * ~

With the knife Minho had handed me, I was standing in front of one of the Glade walls, searching for a single name carved in the stone. My eyes went over several - known, unknown, scratched - but the one I was looking for didn't seem to be there just to see me humiliating myself. But then I found it, hidden just under my nose and under the names of Alby and Chuck. Luckily I had enough space to carve my name beside his. With some difficulty, I propped the tip of the knife next to Newt's name and began the work of "officializing," as Minho had called it. Usually it was Alby who did it, but he hated me and Newt, as second-in-command, must be there. But since welcome party started, I hadn’t seen him anywhere, so Minho took their place.

“Ready.” I said, when I finished carving my name and my fingers were already sore. I handed the knife to Minho.

He looked at me smiling, which made his eyes even smaller than they were.

“Welcome to the family, Frankie.”

I smiled at him, taking advantage of the sensation of belonging filling my chest.

“But why did you have to put your name next to Newt's?” He asked, and the feeling went away as quickly as it came.

I blushed instantly.  “Oh, it was nothing.”

“You shanks have something going on, don’t you?” Minho asked with a��mischievous smile on his lips.

“What?! No!” I said quickly, my voice rising an octave and becoming thinner, making my lie clear.

Minho raised his hands in surrender, but I knew he wouldn’t leave me in peace so soon.

Suddenly, a cup-like container with unidentifiable contents appeared before me. I twisted my torso, and found Newt staring at me with an amused smile on his lips.

“Newt!” I exclaimed, happier than I intended.

Minho laughed when he realized my slip and went away towards the other runners.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

I looked around at the drinking boys who talked and shouted and fought around the fire. There weren't any girls and I felt out of place. But not that I would say that to Newt when he had so much work to organize it for me.

“I am liking it.” I said, smiling, and was I surprised to find that my smiles would always come out more naturally when I was with Newt.

“And the work with the Slicers, do you think it's there?”" He asked, laughing. He probably already knew the answer and the story that I almost threw up on a pig that I should be slaughtering.

I cracked a cynical smile . “I think I'll become a vegetarian.”

Newt laughed and handed me the container.

“Taste it, it's Gally's homemade recipe.” He said, and pointed with his chin at a tall, square-jawed blond boy who was in the middle of a circle, fighting some other Glader.

I shrugged and took a sip. As soon as it touched my tongue, I turned my face and spit it out.

“What the hell is that?!” I asked, exasperated.

“Nobody besides him know, and is a tradition to drink it in the welcome party.” Newt said, and if it were possible, his smile opened even wider. “Welcome to the family, shorty.”

#newt #newt maze runner #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt x oc #maze runner newt #maze runner #the maze runner #thomas #minho #minho x reader #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagine #minho imagine #thomas imagine

[volunaryroom3]

CHAPTER 4

My keys rattled in the door as it locked it behind me. It clicked shut and I rested my head on the door, hair tangling over my ears. Thank fuck that was over. Being a slave to the wage crushes your soul, some more days than others.

Now I was home. My sanctuary. A place where I was safe from the anger of the public, complexity of the world and could batten down the hatches with my favourite human before I had to once more put on my armour and head back into battle.

“What are you doing” said Jamie from the kitchen, who could see me resting my head on the front door, sighing in my zombie like state.

“I don’t know” I muttered into the wood. I straightened my back and walked through the to living room, kicking my shoes off and flinging myself onto a chair.

I took my socks off a wriggled my toes above the carpet. There’s something about bare feet that’s so rebellious. Being completely naked, free from the constraint of polyblend, gives you the pleasure of freedom but is also attractive and conventional. Feet were meant to be covered. They can be ugly, toes utterly offensive and fragile so they must be protected and hidden. For them to be naked feels so audacious, to feel carpet fibres beneath was so unruly and these small rebellions got me through the day.

“Here” said Jamie, entering the room and grabbing my naked big toe as he walked past and placed a mug on the table.

“Is that for me?” I said perking up.

“Well I don’t drink tea” he answered, not looking but gesturing with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other.

“Okay, what do you want?” I asked, raising one eyebrow and looking at him with a wry smile.

“Just drink it” he said laughing.

We both looked at each other and smiled and I felt my heart skip a beat.

There had been a lot of heartache but then there was Jamie.

In my life there have been many boys, many girls, many people and subsequently much loss and sorrow.

My last boyfriend cheated on me. One minute he was one the phone telling me he loved me and the next he was snapped in an incriminating photo with someone else.

It was early morning when I saw the photograph online. I hadn’t been able to sleep, i was scrolling through my phone under the sheets when I saw his hand on her thigh, my eyes widening in the glow of the screen. A series of incidents flashed in my head; the missed calls, his phone vibrating accompanied by shifty glances, disappearing from the room to take a phone calls, whispering in secrecy, always carefully placing his phone face down on the cabinet, me touching my hand on his and him recoiling, leaving me cold. All these images flickering, falling on top each other like dominos until the last one dropped- he’s cheating on me.

My confrontation was subtle. “It looks like you’re having a good time haha I miss you” I text hoping my agony and urgency would feed through the phone.

No reply. Message read. No reply.

Hours passed as I laid in bed staring at the ceiling until the light of dawn rolled over the walls, White noise humming in my ears.

I went to work that day and I smiled, drank tea and did my job but I wasn’t there. I was on a autopilot. I was trapped in my mind, those images flittering past, unable to escape like a slideshow I could not take my eyes off. The pieces of a puzzle were falling into place, my head putting them together and I was lost in my thoughts, nipping and clawing at me through the day. My stomach tight and head spinning.

That evening I was staring into the TV set, blind to the screen and still arguing with myself. I was paranoid. Yes I was paranoid. This isn’t real. The words all muddling together and stacking on top of each other until it just became noise.

Suddenly a text.

“I’m sorry”

My world crashed around me. I felt my hands tightly grip onto each other and my tears fall in slow motion.

“Why?” I cried softy.

A numbness fell over my entire body and I collapsed onto the sofa, my tears running down the tip of my nose and staining the cushion.

After a while the numbness wore off and was replaced by pain. A sharp slice from neck to stomach not visible to the naked eyes but real to my nervous system. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I was just an exposed nerve; open with excruciating pain.

Weeks passed and I was still spiralling into oblivion. I was in trouble at work for mistakes and absence. I was worrying my family and friends but even that wasn’t enough to stop me slipping into the black hole. The dark pit of depression is all consuming and once you are stuck in the tar, you sink further down, you gasp for air until there’s no return.

“What a bastard” everyone said

“What a loser. His loss!” They chanted

And they were right of course. However this did not help me. I loved him. Somehow he subconsciously became my whole world and now I was lost. Lost and isolated in my loneliness but I knew I had to stop. This wasn’t healthy behaviour.

Grief has a timescale. Death can be a lifetime but the breakdown of a relationship? You are limited. You have the get on with it. You have to bare your teeth and show the world how strong you are. You have to prove to others that you are leaving it behind and if you aren’t moving on? You are weak and you can’t show weakness. You can’t be the one to lose.

So I moved on. I washed, I put clothes on and pushed myself back into life. I had an amazing few months embarking on journeys and weekends away by reconnecting with my lost friends. I immersed myself in live music, healing my soul with the beauty of beats and sound with pilgrimages to gigs and festivals. Wild, drunk nights in the sun building hundreds of memories to last a lifetime. The evidence consisted of a mosaic of Polaroids pinned around my desk: my favourite a muddy photo of me grinning ear to ear, hands in the air which screamed look at me! I’m living life!

When I talked to people I laughed. When I looked at people I smiled.

But every night I still cried in the shower.

Later I found out the girl that in the photo was his ex. They have a child together now. In the end it was all for the best but that still doesn’t stop that painful twinge whenever it crosses my mind.

Every time you are hurt a part of your heart breaks and creates a gap. Tiny shards splinter off and disintegrate into tears. You heal, you recover and you fight but there’s now a hole there that will never close up.

Once I am hurt, I am hurt forever.

He wasn’t the first but he was the last one who took a sledgehammer to my heart and shattered the remaining pieces. With the fragments I had left I swore I would never do it again, that I wouldn’t open up because I could cope, the pain would kill me. From then on I lived my life as half a person. Content but never allowing myself to fully feel. I was comfortable in my solitude but always empty.

That was until I met Jamie.

After lounging around the living room for a while I heard my stomach rumble.

“I’ll make tea” I said stretching. I got up and padded through to the kitchen.

I laughed as I heard him yelling at the tv. I know the match was on and I loved how passionate he was; the same amount he showed about everything in his life, including me.

I opened the cupboards and reached for the pan on the top shelf. I stood on my tiptoes, unbalanced and stretching, my fingers fumbling on the tip of the handle. Just as I felt my hand grip the handle they all came crashing down. Metal clanged onto the worktop, thundered to the floor and onto my bare feet.

I didn’t even make a noise, I just bit my lip and fell to the floor.

“What’s happening?” Yelled Jamie running into the room, seeing me rolling around on the kitchen floor.

“Ow! Sorry” I laughed but still grimacing in pain.

“You’re an idiot” he laughed

“I know”” I said rubbing my toes and frowning.

“It’s not funny” he snapped, his tone angrier than before. “I keep telling you to be careful. You’re so stupid. We were having such a nice time and now you’ve done this’

For a moment he stood over me, towering and serious with disappointment. I felt so small looking up at him and feeling shame wash over me.

“I’m really sorry, its been a long day”” I replied, looking at my feet in remorse.

He helped me up and marched me back to the living room in silence. I sat down on the sofa, raising my injured foot and resting it on the table. Jamie sat down on the other side, his attention brought back to the match.

I’ve always been clumsy. Bruises, broken bones and bangs peppered my childhood memories followed by reckless behaviour as an adult. He was right I needed to be more careful. He was only stern because he cared.

I turned my head towards him but he was still fixed on the tv, unwavering and stoic. I looked down at my feet and felt tears well up in my eyes.

There hadn’t been any trauma, no life changes and nothing worthy to make me unhappy but recently I’d started to feel a weight press down on me. My head had began to feel heavy as tiny bits of stress had started to drip on me and one by one it was building up. I was starting to feel cold and disconnected. Sometimes I’d suddenly freeze in time, stare at the wall, feeling like I was floating away until a friendly face asked if I was okay and brought me back down to earth. I was finding it hard to fall asleep and sometimes I was waking up with a bolt in the night, sweating after a bad dream and then worrying about insignificant things until my alarm called me to work. The other day it rained and I didn’t feel it. I saw the rain fall and land on my face but I didn’t sense it dripping down and onto my collar. I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

It was just a few bad days and I was being dramatic.

I sucked the tears back into my eyes and reached for the cold cup of tea on the table.

Things will get better soon.

#booklover #bookaddict #bookshelf #bipolar disorder #bipolar #mentalheathawareness #mentally ill #mental health #writer #writerscommunity #writing #writerslife #heartbreak #heartache #living with bpd #bpd problems #borderline personality problems #borderline personality disorder

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 18•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: Does Stanley's sickness interfere with the Ancestors getting to the bus on time? Will they make it home in time for the full moon? Well you'll have to read and see! )

~

“He’s been sick since tuesday, we went out after school and he was all congested and sneezy” Richie filled the Losers in as they sat in a circle outside the room where Stan was.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Mike asked, disappointment tainted his voice.

Richie’s shoulders sagged, “come on guys, we know Stan, he always gets a little sick, brushes it off then recovers! How was I supposed to know it would end up being a big thing”.

“No one could’ve known. Don’t beat yourself up Rich” Ben put a comforting hand on the wolf’s shoulder.

“Thanks haystack” Richie nodded his head slowly.

The click of a door opening caught The Losers attention. They all turned to watch Mr Brock emerge from the room, they caught a single glimpse of Stan through the door crack before it shut completely.

“What’s the status doc?” Riche put on a voice which got him an elbow to the ribs from Eddie.

“Beep Beep” he grumbled. Eddie’s hands were tense, up by his chest, anxiously fiddling with his compass.

“Well, he is sick. We tried contacting his parents but the storm that rolled through last night knocked out the phone lines” Mr Brock explained.

Richie cast Eddie a glance, he remembered how he couldn’t call his parents previously.

Beverly stepped forward,“What’s gonna happen?” She asked with her arms crossed.

“Well we-“ Mr Brock started when the sound of another door bursting open stopped him mid sentence.

Mrs. Stuart stepped inside, “Everyone on the bus, the tide is rising ahead of schedule, we do not have much longer” she informed them.

“We aren’t leaving without Stanley” Bill stated as he straightened his posture. The rest of the Losers nodded in agreement.

“Well if he is still throwing up then we can’t have him on the bus” Mr Brock shook his head sadly, “there’s nothing I can do”.

“I-I am fine” Everyone turned to find Stan had dragged himself from bed and had leaned up against the doorframe behind them. His face was pale, the bags under his eyes were darker than previously and his usual straight posture was unusually low.

“Stanley I don’t believe that that’s a good idea” Mr Brock worried.

Stan sharply inhaled, tierd of the bullshit, “I said I was fucking fine so lets just get on the damn bus, alright?”. He was tired but also worried, Stan knew Eddie and Richie needed to get home before the moon rose.

After the rest of The Losers got in on it, and they were all able to force them to allow Stan on, as long as he had a garbage bin in range the whole time. He agreed so they shoved a dollar store garbage bin into his arms and rushed the group onto the bus. They barely had enough time to get settled before the bus driver hit the gas and began on their way to the main rocky road.

~

“Shit” The bus driver cursed as he raked his hand through his thinning hair. “Brock? We’re too late” he sighed as Mr Brock rushed from his seat to the front of the bus to inspect the road. Which wasn't really a road anymore as it meshed perfectly with the ocean around it.

“Shit” Brock repeated.

“Language!” Richie shouted from the back seat.

Mr Brock had to withhold the urge to flip off his student. Instead he curled his fingers into tight fists and sighed.

Eddie elbowed Richie as a means of telling him to shut up as he shot him a look of daggers. Richie laughed lightly before he met Eddie’s gaze, that’s when it dawned on him, what this meant.

“Oh shit”.

~

“Okay guys so good news! We were able to get rooms for everyone in the castle’s hotel!” Mr Brock tried so hard to sound excited but everyone could tell he was stressed.

The two Ancestors snapped to face each other. “What the hell are we gonna do?” Eddie demanded, voice low and tense.

Richie’s face scrunched up in confusion, “How the hell am I supposed to know! I’ve never done this before”.

“Get a room you two” Stan groaned in his sick nasally voice from the seat in front of them. Without another word Stan turned, sat on his knees and leaned over his seat to face them. “Why don’t you two just fucking sneak out of the hotel and shift on the beach?” Stan suggested.

The other two shared a look of confusion, “You could hear us?” Richie quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes I'm pretty sure my cousins in Hawkins could hear you. So next time you plan to discuss your full moon activities, keep it down” He advised before turning back around and sliding down into his seat.

“It’s not a bad idea though” Eddie contemplated the idea as Richie shoved his hand up into his snapback and ruffled his hair while still keeping his hat securely on his head.

Richie looked around then responded, “Okay fine, plus I bet it’ll be just us in the room so it’ll be easy as hell to sneak out-“.

~

Mr Brock stood in front of the class in the lobby of the castle “Sadly there were only a limited number of rooms left so four people per room, everyone group together”.

The Losers looked between each other. That’s the one thing that kinda sucked about their lucky number, seven is an odd number, which meant that whenever they had to split up, the numbers were always off.

Richie and Eddie immediately stood together. Stan glanced at them and shuffled beside them, knowing they might need his help. Bill caught on and stepped beside them, because he wanted to keep an eye on those two, but also because Stan was his bestest friend after all. But in the end all The Losers just stood in one group.

Eddie leaned towards Richie, “We cannot room with Bill”.

“We’ll figure it out later, just act normal” Richie hushed him. Though he put on a relaxed face, he couldn’t help but check the time on his phone. It was 4 pm, the time they were supposed to be home at. The moon rose at 8, so they had a couple hours before they had to get out.

Slowly but surely Mr Brock and the other teachers approved and handed out keys to different rooms. When he finally reached The Losers he haulted with a sigh, “Sorry guys we said four per room, and Beverly, you need to room with people of the same sex” He said semi apogoltically.

Beverly groaned and tilted her head to look upwards, “Fuck my life” She rolled her eyes. “Welp looks like Imma go sleep in the bushes, peace” She held up a peace sign then walked a couple steps away backwards before turning and heading off on her way.

Before she could get very far someone who was vaguely familiar to Beverly walked up behind her and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. Bev turned around and saw a girl from her grade, someone she’s pretty sure she’s seen with Eddie before.

“Hey uh- Sorry I just saw you didn’t have a group and I was wondering if you wanted to join my group. We uh- just need one more person” She smiled warmly. She had brown hair that fell just below her shoulders in soft curls. She wore a shirt she swore she picked up herself at Hot Topic once, it was a black button up with cute line art of crystals on it.

“Sure… Yeah” Beverly slowly nodded then continued, “thanks-?” She questioned carefully.

“Alley” She supplied happily, “My group is over this way” Alley said as she showed Bev over to where he group was standing.

Sadly Ben and Mike were put into a group with two guys they didn’t know very well, Boris and Theo, they seemed oddly familiar but they kinda kept to themselves.

After everyone was shown their rooms, which all consisted of two queen beds, a couch, a tv, and a desk. Nothing too fancy but it was enough. The one thing that sucked was that the rooms didn’t have their own bathrooms. If you needed to go, then you’d have to go to the one that your floor shared. Since no one had any clothes to unpack, since they didn’t plan to stay the night, the four just kinda sat on their beds as Stan cradled his trash bin.

At 5 they were called down to have dinner in the dining hall. The table clothes were white lace and their silverware had exquisite floral designs on them. It was obviously not meant for a group of highschoolers.

While they ate there was some soft elevator like music that played in the background which was mixed with the sounds of low murmurs from the students. The kids spoke in hushed voices as they were slightly intimidated by how underdressed they all felt compared to the decorations of the room and the outfits of the staff.

“Yo would it be bad if I just let one rip right now?” Richie asked the Losers. Eddie rolled his eyes. Stan’s stomach turned at the idea of what that would smell like. Ben, Bev and Mike giggled to themselves while Bill focused on the food on his fork.

~

Bill was aimlessly channel surfing when Richie did a small backflip, rolling deeper back onto the bed before leaping to his feet and jumping on the bed.

“What? What are you doing?” Eddie questioned as he tilted his head back to look at Richie.

“Jumping!” He said simply.

Eddie rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone from his pocket, typing up a quick message before sending it off.

Eddie: WTF are we supposed to do about Bill?

Richie felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so instead of bouncing again he fell on his butt and checked his messages.

Richie: Wait a minute, I have an idea.

A couple moments passed before Richie abruptly got up from the bed and rushed out the door, firmly shutting the door behind him.

“S’he okay?” Stan mumbeled from where he sat hunched over the bin on the other bed.

Eddie shrugged, “Dunno”. He turned his head just in time to catch the weird glare he was getting from Bill. He quickly snapped his gaze down to his lap where his hands were aimlessly playing with the chain of his compass. With his anxiety levels high, and the fucking full moon rising, hsi viens had turned black again. He shoved them into his pockets and hopped Bill didn’t notice.

Richie waited in the bathroom for about 10 minutes before he left and made his way back to the room. He opened the door with a sigh and made sure he walked slowly up to the others.

“Guys I’m sorry but Eddie and I gotta go” Richie pulled his pants up uncomfortably.

“W-Why?” Bill stood up.

“Well… Last night I had mexican food, and the trash stomach isn’t happy about it. So I-uh, gotta be in a room closer to the bathroom” Richie informed them with an embarrassed tone.

“Why the hell would you do that? You know Mexican doesn't agree with you” Stan played along with the act.

“Right…” Bill nodded. “Then why do-does Eddie have to go?” He added.

“I-I need… support. Yep, that’s it, I need emotional support” Richie lied on the spot.

Eddie withheld a sigh, mentally face palming. But either way, he got up and stood by Richie’s side.

The wolf’s face fell “Sorry guys I feel another wave coming-” he announced before fleeing the room, Eddie in tow. The door closed with a slam and they didn’t stop until they were in the bathroom. Richie locked the door behind them with a sigh.

“Yeah cause this doesn't seem weird” Eddie commented.

“What do you want from me? This is the best I could come up with on such short notice” Richie looked down at his hands, they were the same as Eddie’s, black veins and all. He ripped his snapback off and started fanning himself, “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” He asked.

“Nope, it’s the moon” Eddie checked the time, 7:30. “We gotta get out of here, and fast” His ears were sweating from underneath his beanie which seemed to make his head way too hot at that moment.

Richie laced his fingers with Eddie’s then hovered his other hand over the doorknob, bracing himself, “Lay low alright? Anyone questions us, we say you need air because of your asthma”. Eddie nodded.

The werewolf squeezed his boyfriend’s hand with one hand and ran his other hand through his hair. His wolf ears immediately perked up. He closed his eyes and listened, carefully, he tried to pick up any sounds from behind that door and in the hallway ahead of them. The soft shuffling of foot steps filled the air, soon followed by the click of a door shutting. Richie waited a minute before he slid his hat back on, opened the door and stepped out. The two quietly tiptoed on the plush carpet that lined the floor of the castle’s hallway.

Halfway to the stairs, Eddie halted and clutched his abdomen. “Fuck” He gasped.

Richie reached a hand out but it was slapped away by Eddie.

“I’m fine. Just hurts. We need to hurry” He whispered through gritted teeth.

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand but continued on. When they reached the metal door to the stairs Eddie stepped in front of Richie and with a swift flick of his wrist the door magically opened just enough for them to slip through, closing quietly behind them.

Rushing down the stairs they shared the same pain that shot through their bodies every time their feet hit the floor. They burst into the main lobby, relieved to see that no one was at the main desk desk and the lounge area was empty. They rushed past the fancy leather seats and the artifact cases. Eddie held his hand out to open the door when the sound of a lady clearing her throat stopped them dead in their tracks.

“Well well well, someone out for a late night stroll?” Elizah’s british accent sent shivers down Eddie’s spine. He’d heard her give speeches countless times in the past but her voice never failed to bring goosebumps to his arms. “Please turn around, it’s very disrespectful to not face someone when you’ve been spoken to, epssesually an elder” Her voice was like an ice dagger, cold and lethal.

Hesitantly the two Ancestors turned to face her. Immediately she scanned the two boys. A faint smirk spread over her lips but she spoke before either of them could examine it further. “See if I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed that you were one of our runaway Ancestors.” She paused to think, “Eddie Kaspbrak was his name… But oh no, that simply cannot be, as he’s supposed to be dead”.

Richie tightened his grip on Eddie’s hand.

“But as I said, he was a runaway.” She took a couple steps towards them, hands behind her back then moved to settle them onto her hips. “Runways always find their way back, don’t they, Edward” She sneered.

Eddie’s eyes widened as his jaw fell slack, unable to properly respond. He could feel Richie growl as it reverberated throughout his body. It began in his chest and spilled out from his mouth.

She continued before either of the boys could speak up, “And who might you be, a young were-“.

“Boys?”

The rabbit and the wolf turned to the familiar voice.

“What’s going on? You two are supposed to be in your rooms” Mr Brock stepped out from one the shadows of the various hallways. Confusion covered his face as he approached the boys.

“Eddie’s asthma was acting up, he needed some fresh air a-and our window didn't open” Richie spit out, a nervous sweat breaking out under his hat, that unsettled feeling suddenly turned up a notch.

“Oh well is everything better now?” Their teacher worried.

Eddie still couldn’t speak, his mind was running a mile a minute. She knew, the council knew. Suddenly all of his worst nightmares were becoming a reality.

“Yes, yes. He’s much better. But uh, sir would you mind escorting me and my dearest friend back to our room. We seem to have forgotten the key, we left in a hurry” Richie almost slipped into one of his voices. But with all things considered, he opted to keep things mature and serious. He anxiously grasped his key in his pocket. He hadn't forgotten it. It never left his pocket since the moment they entered the room, but he knew that Elizah wouldn’t make a move in front of Mr Brock, their teacher, a human.

Mr Brock seemed taken aback by Richie’s new tone, “Oh, of course” he nodded, extending an arm for the boys to follow him.

Without missing a beat the two left Elizah in the lobby and followed their teacher back to their room. The walk was quiet, Mr Brock kept up a steady pace a couple feet ahead.

Richie carfully rubbed his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand as a way to sooth him as their inevitable transformations would have to wait a little longer. When they reached their room, they thanked Mr Brock as he opened the door. He also closed it behind them, they quickly locked it behind them.

Bill had been sitting on the bed, his foot hadn't stopped tapping against the carpeted floor of their hotel room since Richie and Eddie left.

A quiet knock interrupted whatever show they weren’t watching on TV. They both stood Before the door opened, surprised to see their two friends, and their teacher standing at the door.

“H-Hey” Bill said as the two entered the room.

Stan placed the garbage bin on the ground beside him, “Is everything alright?” questioned.

Richie started, “Yep, all is fine-”

“How the hell can you say that?” Eddie ripped his hand from Richie grasp, he shook his entire body as if it would rid himself of the past 10 minutes.

Richie sighed, his temper rising “Eddie can we not right now? We need to get the hell out of here, now”.

“W-Why? What’s guh-going on?” Bill stepped towards them.

“Not now” Richie growled, his yellow eyes practically pierced Bill’s soul, sending shivers down his spine.

“Hey” Eddie grabbed the wolf’s wrist, grabbing his attention. “Let’s go,” He demanded. He nodded his head towards the window.

Without another word the Ancestors stepped up to the window. They opened the latch but the window was sealed shut, Richie barling had to focus to use his strength, opening it with ease while Stan and Bill watched nervously. The moon’s raw power coursed through his veins, the power simply sat at his fingertips now, begging to be used.

Stanley spoke up, concerned about his friends “Wait where are you going-”.

“Stan, cover for us? Alright? And whatever you do, do not talk to Elizah Brightmoon” Richie explained before he stuck his head out the window, the drop was about 20 feet from their second story hotel room. “We can make it,” He said to Eddie who nodded.

Stan’s brow furrowed, “Wait what? Why? She’s the-”.

“She’s the leader of the council” Eddie put it simply, watching Richie stick his legs out the window and sit on the ledge.

No more questions were asked cause right after Richie dropped out of the window. The cool night air rushed past him before he landed on his feet. He took a second to regain his balance. Then he walked away from the hotel to make room for Eddie he watched as his boyfriend lingered momentarily on the window ledge before leaping down and joining Richie.

“What’d they say?” Richie asked as they began walking together towards the beach, away from the town.

“Just Bill being Bill” Eddie sighed, shaking his head.

When Eddie jumped, Bill and Stan rushed to the window and watched as their friend landed on his feet. They studied Eddie and Richie who began walking towards a location they didn’t know.

“They better make it” Stan muttered under his breath, but Bill heard.

“D-Do you know ab-about them?” He turned to face Stan.

“Umm, no?” Stan shrugged, really not wanting to lie.

“That’s such bullsh-hit Stanley and you know it” Bill snapped, he pointed a finger at Stan’s chest.

Stan refrained from meeting Bill’s gaze, instead he looked over his shoulder, out into the property surrounding the town. He caught something out of the corner of the window, someone. “Shit” Stanley cursed. He pushed past Bill to stand in front of the open window.

Bill didn’t wait to find what Stanley was looking at, his brows furrowed as he watched a lady in a long trench coat follow in the same direction that Richie and Eddie went. “Is that-“.

“Yes” The curly haired teen confirmed.

Bill twisted around to face the other, “We need to help them” he said, determination written all over his voice.

“What? But Bill you-“

“They’re still our friends. And they need us” There was no stutter in Bill’s voice.

Stan nodded a little, “Assemble the Losers” He declared.

Word Count: 3524

Guys I cannot believe there are only like 4 chapters left to everfalls, I think- I uh suck at math so enjoy that. But seriously next chapter- the rest of the chapters are all amazing. I mean they're all amazing but the next chapters are the final so they're just insanely better. So be excited for that!

Don't forget to like and comment, it really shows you care and wanna see more! But seriously thank you all for the support I've already gotten cause it means so much to me. Also go check out my new one shot Bubble Baths and Wet Cats, if you like tooth-rotting fluff and cats then that's the fic for you!

That's all from me y'all, so until next time,

So Long and Goodnight!

~

[Taglist]

@richietoaster @s-onora @that-weird-girl-blog @beproudtozier @ghostnebula @bellarosewrites @s-s-georgie @lermanslogan @iamcupcakefrosting @madidraw @gazebobullshit @thoughtfullyyoungduck @aangzukos @ambitiousskychild @reddieonwheels @breadheadscorpius

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

#it!everfalls #it chapter 1 #it 2019 #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it #losers club #the losers club #incorrect losers quotes #incorrect losers club quotes #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #stanley uris #stan uris #richie tozier #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #werewolf richie #stenbrough #benverly

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (17)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: It’s New Years Eve, which means it’s time for Bucky to suffer through a Tony Stark party.

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

“You could try a little, that’s all I’m saying” she shouts through the bathroom door.

He makes a face in the mirror, rolls his eyes at his full-length reflection. A monkey suit, that’s what they used to call it. Do they still call it that? “I am trying,” he replies harshly, pulling at his cuffs. Stark had a tailor come in and fit all of the guys for tuxes, but somehow this still just doesn’t seem right. The shirt cuffs are too tight around his wrists. The silky fabric feels weird on his metal arm. The pants are too tight. The tailor said they were perfect, they’re supposed to fit like that. But he feels like he can’t move. And these damn shiny shoes are pinching his toes so bad he wants to scream. But he can’t. He can’t scream. Because his collar is buttoned all the way up and there’s a freaking bowtie around his neck and it’s strangling the life out of him.

“Stop it,” she says from behind. He has two fingers deep in his collar, tugging, desperately trying to get some air. “Stop. It.”

He looks up and catches her reflection in the mirror. Her face is stern, but beautiful. It’s always beautiful, but… “Wow,” he breathes out. She normally has her hair back in a messy bun or a haphazard ponytail. Her makeup, typically, consists of cherry Chapstick, maybe a little eyeliner if she’s going out. When she ‘suits up’ for a business meeting or a conference she’ll throw on some heels, add a bit of mascara, and straighten her hair. The last Stark party they went to was the most dressed up he’s ever seen her, and even that was nothing compared to this.

Her hair is collected to one side, loose curls cascading over her shoulder. The dark, blood-red lipstick is striking against her pale skin and dark hair. And the thick, smoky shadow and eyeliner make her green eyes stand out like emeralds in a coal mine.

“You look amazing,” he says, eyes glued to her reflection, fingers still in his collar.

“And you,” she says, moving to his side, “didn’t even shave.” She grabs his fingers and tugs them away from his collar, straightens his bowtie as he clears his throat.

“I haven’t shaved in 70 years. I’m not gonna start again for Stark.” He drops his forehead to hers, slowly slips his metal arm around her lower back, hand falling to her hip. He pulls her closer as he whispers into her hair, “I don’t deserve you.”

She smiles crookedly. “No. You don’t.” He leans in to kiss her and she pulls away, twisting out of his grip.

“Hey,” he whines, grabbing at her as the lightweight fabric of her dress slips through his fingers.

“No,” she says simply, moving to the side of the bed to put on her shoes. “I just got all of this right. I’m not risking it.”

“I told you how amazing you look, right?” he asks with an impish grin.

She shrugs. “If I opened my legs every time you gave me a compliment, I’d never get anything done.”

“I just wanted a kiss,” he says coyly, moving closer to her. “You’ve got a dirty mind,” he mutters into her neck as he nuzzles close. He wraps his arms around her, his hands parting the open fabric at the back of her dress. She jerks involuntarily as his cold metal fingertips begin tracing along her spine. He breathes into her ear, “Not that I’d say no to something more,” and he kisses her neck, again and again, slowly moving down to her naked shoulder.

She’s frozen for a long moment, balancing on one heel, her other shoeless foot dangling, toes skimming the carpet. But… “Nope,” she says finally, once his lips reach her collar bone. She pushes back and turns around, bending down at the waist to help her other shoe on. She presses her hip against his thigh as she does so. She looks back at him, all doe eyed and innocent. “Zip me up?” she asks as she slowly straightens, sliding her hand along the inside of his leg as she goes.

He lets out a strained laugh. “You’re evil,” he says as he works to find the zipper. He pulls it up slowly, teasingly, and lays a final kiss on her shoulder. “But I love it.”

“I know,” she says simply, striding out of the room.

He watches her go. The gold silk of her dress drapes loosely over her left shoulder, but it clings tightly to her waist, her hips. He watches as the shimmering fabric glides along her calves with every step, showing only hints of her left leg through the thigh-high slit. “You sure you don’t just want to stay in?” he almost whines, trailing behind her. “Think about it. You could ring in the new year with a bunch of stuffy billionaires – ”

“And my closest friends,” she interjects.

“Eating caviar and shrimp and champagne –”

“Three of my favorite things.”

“In a dress that looks really uncomfortable.”

“This fits like a glove.” She faces him, kicks her leg out from the slit in a mock-model pose, and runs her hands down her body slowly to prove her point.

He raises his eyebrows as he smiles. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Were you about to give me an alternative?” she questions snarkily.

He clears his throat, redirects his gaze from her thigh to her eyes. “Or,” he intones, “You could spend the night with me. Here. At home.” He’s in front of her in two strides. “Naked.”

“How ‘bout this,” she begins, draping her arms around his neck. “You come with me to the party, which I have to go to because Tony would be heartbroken if I didn’t show –”

“Oh no. We wouldn’t want that.”

“And then, if you behave, I’ll come back here with you. And get naked.”

“How long do we have to stay?”

“’Til the ball drops.”

“Is that code for something?”

“No,” she replies deadpan.

She drops her arms from around his neck and turns to leave. It’s already after eight and this makeup won’t last all night.

“What does behave mean?” he asks, tugging at the fabric of his pants. Why were they so tight around his thighs?

“If you have to ask,” she throws over her shoulder, “then you’re probably not doing it.”

He lets out a resigned sigh, slumps his shoulders, and follows her out the door.

---

They’ve been at the party for a little over two hours – though it feels like a full eight – when he decides that he just can’t take it anymore. He’s pulling at his collar again, still actually. He’s been doing it all night, even after she loosened his bowtie, rolling her eyes dramatically and telling Steve to look after the wittle baby. “This is just…” he shakes his head, struggling to find the words.

“Lame?” Sam offers.

Bucky shoots him a glare, but nods in agreement. He takes another swig of his beer. “I can’t even get drunk.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve laments.

The three men have been clustered together for the better part of an hour now, close enough to the bar to ensure easy access to drinks, but as far as they can get from the throngs of people weaving in and out of the reception hall.

It’s pretty impressive actually. Tony – really Pepper – had managed to turn the wide open space that was at first designed to be a second training facility into a ballroom-like hall. It was also a bit ridiculous. Stark had decided to throw this New Year’s party as a sort of coming out for the new Avengers’ compound. Obviously people wouldn’t be allowed into certain areas on the campus. But the ones that did make the tour were practically given a complete makeover for the party. Nothing the men had passed outside of the living quarters was even recognizable to them.

The invitees were mostly politicians who supported the Avengers Initiative, big-wig contributors who had helped fund the new digs, and, of course, the press.

By now, Steve’s lost count of how many people have come over to him to shake his hand. Sam’s lost count of how many times he’s rolled his eyes when these same people ask him how he knows Captain America. And Bucky’s lost count of how many beers he’s gulped down, desperately hoping that if he has enough, he’ll feel at least a little bit tipsy.

“Tessa looks nice,” Steve says, looking out across the room at his friend. She’s mingling as part of the Avengers and Stark Industries, trying to raise funds for her research, get donations for additional equipment for the team, and, as Tony put it, boost the public image of the organizations by dazzling rich fools with her beautiful smile and brilliant intellect. Bucky thought it sounded like she was being used. Tessa thought it sounded like an opportunity to dress up and have fun talking about her work, promoting the deeds of her family, and also fleecing stuck-up politicians and millionaires out of tens of thousands of dollars… all for a good cause, of course.

“Nice,” Sam repeats, his eyes honing in on her. “She looks unbelievable.”

Bucky inhales deeply and almost growls at the man to his right, which elicits an actual giggle from the Falcon. Because unlike the two super soldiers, Sam can get drunk. And apparently it only takes four beers to get him there.

Bucky follows Steve’s eyes out into the crowd and he sees his girl. Her dress is a deep, luminous gold that shines in the low light of the hall. Her head is thrown back in an over-the-top sort of laugh. It’s not her normal laugh, no, but it still somehow seems genuine and completely true to her. There are multiple people gathered around her, including Tony and Bruce, all listening to her speak. He knew that Tony wanted her to talk about the medical wing on campus and all of the fancy tech in it. And he wanted her to talk up the wonderful staff, all of whom were being trained in emergency response so that Avengers would be able to “take care of the people whose lives they affected.”

But right now she just seems to be schmoozing, and doing a hell of a job at it. He can’t help but think, watching her shine at the center of all of these people, that she looks like the sun at the center of her own universe.

“I hate this,” he says for the hundredth time, as he downs the rest of his beer and turns towards the bar to grab another.

Steve sighs and follows him, places a hand on his forearm when he rests it on the bar, waiting for the bartender to stop flirting with the debutante at the far end and come serve him. “You know,” he says in that Captain America knows best way, “you could try to have fun.”

He whips around a little too fast, pulling his arm out of his friend’s grasp. “I am trying,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Try harder,” they hear Natasha voice from behind the bar.

“What are you doing back there?” Steve asks, brow furrowed.

Clint sidles up next to them – truly a stealthy agent as they hadn’t even realized he’d been in the building – and reaches out to accept the bottle of bourbon Nat just nicked. “This guy’s been playing favorites all night,” he says, gesturing wildly towards the bartender at the far end. “It’s like he doesn’t know who we are.”

Natasha pokes around beneath the bar for another moment and comes back with her hands full of bottles of beer. “For the all-Americans,” she says, setting them down in front of Bucky and Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve says, picking up a bottle and inspecting the label. “This isn’t American beer, though.” Fucking Stella Artois. Leave it to Stark to only offer expensive crap beer. Bucky takes a long pull from his bottle and continues to stew in silence.

Clint grabs a beer for good measure and leans on the bar in front of them. “So,” he says, looking at Bucky, “How was your Christmas?”

The soldier glances up and sees that Barton’s got a teasing glint in his eye and a shit-eating grin covering his face. He narrows his eyes at him, but says nothing.

“Tessa told him what she was doing,” Natasha mutters. He spins around to find the redhead suddenly at his shoulder. Freaking ninjas, he thinks, shaking his head.

“What was she doing?” Steve pipes up, clearly confused.

“Nothing,” Bucky responds.

“She gave him a homemade gift,” Clint tells the captain with a wink.

Before Steve can inquire further, Nat jumps in with, “Did she tell you what Barnes got her?”

He shakes his head. “I just got in. Haven’t talked to her yet.”

Natasha raises a single brow. “He bought her a Ducati. V4. 214 Horsepower.”

Clint’s mouth falls open. “No shit?” Bucky grins a bit and nods his head. “I got Laura a new washing machine,” he says absently.

“Thing’s a deathtrap,” Steve grouses. “A really nice deathtrap, but a deathtrap.”

“Really, Cap,” he says, sipping at the bourbon in his right hand while his left continues to hold tight to his beer, “if we only did the things you approved of, no one would ever have any fun around here.”

“Thank you.” Bucky takes another drink himself and gives Steve a side-eye glare. He really needs to stop talking about how dangerous the bike is. If he doesn’t, they might have more than just words.

“I’m just saying –”

“Stop saying and just drink your damn beer.”

“Drink my,” Steve breathes out. “Buck,” he starts, stopping suddenly and shaking his head. “I don’t know what your deal is tonight.”

“My deal is that I don’t want to be here, wearing this… thing. Drinking this beer…”

“Hanging out with these people,” Natasha quips.

“I like these people,” Clint says with a pout. He points at Bucky. “This one here, he’s half of my new favorite couple.”

“And that’s really the problem, right?” Steve asks with a quirked brow, a teasing note to his voice. “You just want Tessa all to yourself.”

“That’s very selfish,” Nat mumbles.

“Unless,” Steve starts, the glint in his eye growing, “you wanted to have her all to yourself because you wanted to propose tonight?”

“Propose what?” Clint asks flippantly as his eyes dance around the room.

Bucky gives his friend a derisive stare. “I just bought her a deathtrap,” he replies, no emotion in his voice. “I can’t afford a ring too.”

Steve glances over at Tessa and sees her talking rather intently with Bruce. But when she catches his eye, she smiles and waves. He waves back. “Well, you better ask for a raise then, because you cannot let her get away.”

“She’s not a wild animal caught in a snare, Steve,” Natasha chides.

“I’m just saying, you honestly can’t do any better.”

Clint and Nat both snigger under their breath as they silently slip away with their bourbon.

Bucky shoots Steve a sideways glare. “Aren’t you supposed to say something like, she’s a lucky gal? Or, even just I hope you two are happy together? You’re my friend. You’re not supposed to tell me I can’t do better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you think that you can do better?” he asks with mock sincerity.

“No. But that’s not the point.”

“I’m her friend too. I knew her and loved her before you did.”

“Careful.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, well, I’m your oldest friend, your best friend.”

“Are you jealous of my relationship with your fiancée right now?”

“I’m just a little hurt that you think she’s so much better than me,” he says. “And she’s not my fiancée. Stop pushing.”

Steve sees Tessa and Bruce split apart, watches her politely shake hands with an older man before skirting past him, moving toward the bar. “Well,” he says, turning back to Bucky, “she’s an accomplished physician and geneticist. Even Tony thinks she’s brilliant, and in case he’s never mentioned it to you, he’s a genius. She’s obviously incredibly patient because… you. She’s funny, beautiful, and genuinely one of the most caring people I know. And she has superpowers.”

“Powers, maybe. But superpowers? Just relax there, pal.”

“And,” Steve adds, grabbing a beer for Sam along with his own and pushing off of the bar. “She will be your fiancée just as soon as you man-up and ask her.” He glances up and sees that she’s just a few strides away, so he nearly whispers the rest. “And she’ll be the luckiest gal in the world.” He pats his friend on the shoulder and nods a hello to Tessa as she approaches.

“Where are you off to?” she asks, noticing that he’s turning to leave.

He holds up the two beers in his hand. “Sam’s waiting,” he says simply, goofy smile on his face.

She looks questioningly at him as he walks away, noting the I know something look he had about him. “What were you two talking about?” she asks Bucky.

“Nothing,” he replies with a shrug. He pivots to face her. “You’ve been making the rounds,” he notes.

“Ah, yes. Boozin’ and schmoozin’,” she says, downing the rest of her wine and setting the empty glass on the bar. “How ‘bout you? Are you behaving?” she asks mockingly.

“Always,” he says with an all too fake smile.

Tessa laughs. It’s the laugh he knows, big and bright and breathy, not the laugh that he saw her doing for others earlier. She grabs him by the hand suddenly and pulls. “C’mon,” she says.

He finishes his beer and moves to quickly to set the bottle down, almost missing the bar as she drags him off. He has a sudden, terrible thought and says, “Do not force me into meeting people.” It comes out harsher than he intends, stern.

“You think I’d do that to you?” she asks, stopping short. He almost rams right into her, she halts so fast, and he grabs her around the middle to steady both of them. “Ye of little faith,” she says with a smile.

He looks down at her and notices the glassiness to her eyes, the crooked smile “How much have you had to drink?” he asks with a smile of his own.

“How much have you had?” she shoots back.

“A lot. But I can handle it.”

She snorts indignantly, an odd sound coming from such an elegant looking woman. And he can’t help but laugh. “I can handle it,” she assures him, turning and continuing to pull him through the crowd.

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t ask me to hold your hair back later when you’re puking up red wine everywhere.”

“I won’t,” she says, dragging him into the center of the giant room. They don’t stop until they reach the very middle of the dance floor. She turns to face him, wraps her arms around his neck, and says, “Dance with me.”

He moves closer to her, a little put off by all the people surrounding them. But his arms are draped around her waist and she’s already swaying to the music, and he can’t help but enjoy the feel of that. This he can do. He may hate being surrounded by all these people, most of whom he swears are staring daggers into his back. But having a dance with his girl is something he’d never disagree to. “Are you having a good time?” he asks her softly.

“Yeah,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I am now.”

“Good,” he says, placing a kiss on her head.

The music changes pace slightly, but their slow rocking motion remains the same. She looks up at him, locks onto his brilliant blue eyes. “Thanks for trying,” she says with a small smile. And if that doesn’t just make him feel like crap.

He starts to say that he’s sorry, that he should’ve acted like a grown up and not some dumb, disappointed kid. He starts to say, again, that he doesn’t deserve her and that she’s the best and he’s the worst and dammit, he’ll try harder. Hell, he’ll just try, period. But he doesn’t get the chance to say any of it. Just as his mouth begins to move, he’s elbowed sharply in the side. He whirls around to see Stark looming with an playful grin on his face.

“Hey, Tin Man,” Tony says, giving him another little shove. “Move it or lose it.”

“Excuse me?” he asks, voice carrying just the slightest hint of an actual threat.

“I want to dance with my favorite team doctor.”

“Aw,” Tessa declares. “That’s so sweet.”

Bucky turns on her. “No it’s not. He’s interrupting.”

Tony just shrugs. “Fine. I guess you don’t want your Christmas present slash holiday bonus then.”

“Do I have to dance with you to get it?” she asks, suspiciously. “Do we have an HR department yet? Because I feel like that’s something that I could report you for.”

“Adorable,” he spits out. Then, whipping an envelope out of his jacket, “Here.”

She takes the envelope and gives it a little shake. “Doesn’t sound like anything breakable.”

He rolls his eyes and faces Bucky. “Really, how do you put up with her?”

“Is it cash monies?” she asks with an impish smile.

“Just open it,” he says exhaustedly.

She does, and her brow furrows as she pulls out a small packet. “It’s a plane ticket,” she says, confusion lacing her words.

“Two, actually. Round trip.”

“To the Maldives,” she says, still unable to make sense of it.

“Yep. I have a house there. Right on the beach. I don’t let just anyone stay there, you know.” He turns to Bucky. “And I will notice if anything goes missing.”

“I don’t understand,” she tells him. “You’re sending me to the Maldives? Why?”

Tony takes in a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “My God,” he utters. “She doesn’t even know what a vacation is.”

“You’re sending me on a vacation?”

“Yes,” he nearly shouts. “How hard is that to decipher? Two tickets to a romantic, tropical paradise…”

Her eyes widen. “You’re sending us on a vacation?”

He leans forward and grasps her shoulders. “Look, kid, you’ve been putting up with a lot lately. I know I’ve been asking for a lot. But you do it… you do it everything I ask. Tonight… have you heard what people are saying about the plans for the med team? That might just be the biggest take away of this whole evening. And it’s all because of you.”

She shakes her head slowly. “The med team was your idea.”

“Yeah, fine, you’re right. I’m a genius.” He drops his hands down from her shoulders and takes hold of her hands, gives them each a small squeeze as he says, “But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A bright smile slowly blooms across her face, the joy and appreciation radiating from her so intense that Bucky feels his chest tighten just watching her. “Thanks, Tony,” she says simply, a bit shyly.

“You’re welcome.” He drops her hands and spins around, patting Bucky roughly on the shoulder as he goes. “You leave tomorrow afternoon,” he throws over his shoulder.

“But – ” she starts.

She’s cut off by Tony’s shout of, “And I will get that dance,” just before he gets sucked back into the crowd.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky x oc #Bucky x original female character #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #marvelau #Supernova

[spookyold-saintjm]

I [Don’t] Wanna Be Free - Part 2

AHWM Yancy x female reader

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of death, and shit that just doesn’t make sense sometimes because that’s how the AHWM world operates. ~just some angsty fluff~

Summary: You left Yancy behind and it’s tearing you apart. Yancy might consider life outside the bars, only for you. And Mark doesn’t know you have the box. You’re going to make some stupid decisions.

A/N: So I didn’t think people would actually even SEE this but wtf thank you. I tagged anyone who commented or asked to be tagged but if you want to be added to the tag list when I update next let me know I guess?? I can do another part if youse guys want. Thanks friends.

_______________________________________________________________________

A few weeks later, you were back at base, sitting around a table with a group consisting of yourself, Mark, and a few others from your team. You sat with your feet propped up on the table, arms crossed casually, and answered questions and put in ideas when necessary. But only when necessary.

Because they were still searching for the box. The whole point of getting this group together to begin with. You still had it. And only you knew about it. Well, you, and Yancy.

You couldn’t put your finger on why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Mark. The two of you had been a team, building your wealth and power in the underground slowly but surely over a few years now. But something just wouldn’t allow you to trust him, or anyone he associated himself with. Not for a second. 

Especially not now that you knew what the box contained. And you had the creeping suspicion there was more to it than the key.

You glanced up from the notes you’d been pretending to take to eye the others you and Mark had temporarily hired for the job. The blue-haired boy you sat across from, who only went by Eth, had been repeatedly sticking a knife in and out of the wooden table you were all seated around for almost the entire discussion. He was young, sure, but had been quickly hardened by getting into the work at such an early stage in his life. The two of you didn’t exactly get along.

He met your eyes as Mark continued to talk, a devilish grin creeping up from the corner of his mouth. You let your face fall flat in response. Try me, little boy.

“y/l/n's being a little quiet over there,” he announced when Mark had paused to pull up a map on his computer. “Something you’re not telling us?”

You glared back at him, prepared to snap back at him, but Mark jumped in for you. “If y/n wants to talk, kiddo, she’ll talk. Right, y/n?”

Just to spite the boy, you only nodded and flashed your teeth back at him. He let out a low growl, and twisted his knife deeper into the table. “I don’t like this bitch, man. I don’t care who’s in charge, she’s up to—”

No one could stop the crash that ensued when you lunged across the table, kicking the knife away and grabbing the boy by the throat before he had the chance to move. You forced his face up to meet yours as you stared down at him from your kneeled position on the table. You dared him to call you a bitch again, to question you again, and squeezed a few seconds at near full strength before releasing him.

Eth sputtered and coughed in a struggle to restore his breathing as you slid your feet to the floor in a cat-like motion and made your way around the table to drop back into your seat. The other hired hands stared back at you wide-eyed, but Mark, not quite as stunned, simply watched you and waited until you turned back to face him as if nothing had happened.

Mark cleared his throat to regain the attention in the room as the boy turned his head and spat onto the floor, now somewhat recovered.

“Alright. Well. Okay. So, as I was saying, we can—”

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night you stormed into your apartment, only just coming down from the fuming anger that had carried you through the rest of the meeting. You walked through your bedroom and into the connecting bathroom to wash your face with some cold water and rid yourself of the grimy feeling of being back at base for another day.

So what, maybe you were a little more on edge than usual. Maybe because of what day it was. A day you’d tried not to think about, yet spent your nights dwelling on more than you’d ever care to admit.

It was the third Sunday of the month.

Visitation at Happy Trails had come and gone. You knew, because you’d look up the hours. You watched the time pass on your watch through the day, feeling a sense of dread leading up to the time you knew the doors to the prison would close for the night. You knew it was silly for dwelling on it. How were you going to show your face, the face of an escaped convict, at the very prison you’d escaped from only a short while before? Sure, Yancy had offered it in his parting words to you, but he had no concept of the outside world and its consequences. You knew that. And still yet…

Shit. Shit. You were really going to do it.

You threw on a black sweater with a heavy hood to cover your head and part of your face. Black gloves, boots, and pants with utility pockets for any tools or weapons you might need in the chance disaster could strike.

Finally, you reached into the triple-locked drawer in your closet, pulling out the long rectangular box that had started all this new madness. Regardless of being unquestionably alone, you felt the need to be as quiet as possible as you turned the lid every so slightly, and lifting it from its place once you heard the gentle click from inside the box. You tipped it over just enough to drop the single item inside into your open hand.

A key with the ability to unlock any door.

  You grasped the heavy, iron object, wrapping your gloved fingers around it and taking a moment to revel in the power you could feel buzzing inside. No, you would tell Mark about this. You couldn’t.

And now you were going to put it to use.

------

She wasn’t coming.

He’d been sitting on a bench in the hallway, watching the clock from the moment visitation hours began. Not on purpose, of course, he was just bored. Bored. And hoping, that just maybe…

No. Of course she wouldn’t. Why would she come? She hadn’t wanted to be there, period. He’d helped her get out, and that was that. She had no more use for him.

The final few minutes ticked by, and and Yancy watched through the window into the visitation room as parents, siblings, spouses, children, and whoever else had shown said their goodbyes to those of his fellow inmates who were fortunate enough to have visitors.

All this time, and he’d never set foot in that room. Not once.

He tapped a foot lightly, quickly, to the beat of a song he’d been working on. Anything to distract his mind. The last few weeks had both given and stripped him of inspiration at jagged intervals. 

He flinched when the guards opened up the heavy iron doors leading into the hallway, and straightened himself so that he was lounging idly on the bench when his friends emerged.

A few gave him cheerful greetings as they passed by, high on the feeling of seeing their loved ones one more time. Others were silent and solemn, already missing whoever had been forced to leave them behind yet again.

“Heyy, Yancy!” A man with curly hair and glasses came bounding by and gave him a friendly clap to his shoulder. “We’re gonna go watch that new show Tiny was talking about, wanna join us? We’re making popcorn!” 

Yancy look up at his friend and shook his head, tossing him his casual half-smile. “Nah, thanks, Bam-Bam, youse guys go ahead. I’ll catch up another night.” He let out a yawn and stretched out his arms toward the ceiling. "I’m beat.”

His friend tilted his head slightly to the side, not expecting Yancy’s answer, but nodded before jogging to catch up with the rest of the group headed toward the entertainment room. “Whatever you say, bud,” he called back. "We’ll save a seat for you just in case!”

As soon as everyone had rounded the corner, Yancy allowed his shoulders to drop and a heavy breath to escape his chest. He glanced up at the clock one more time before he stood and turned to walk toward his cell.

His steps echoed down the now-silent hallway. “C’mon, Yancy boy,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He stopped walking only to lightly kick the wall in frustration. “What was youse thinkin’ would happen?”

------

You were in.

The key worked as easily as you’d hoped it would, and after you’d scaled the fence with the help of some equipment you’d snatched from base, you’d come in through the back side of the prison as quiet as a mouse. For a prison full of people who’d committed some pretty nasty crimes, the place wasn’t all that well guarded. But you’d learned from your brief time on the inside that Mr. MurderSlaugher made certain that inmates had nothing to want for. 

He was, in fact, a little too good at his job. But that was a matter for another time. 

The facility was already lights-out once you’d arrived, so you pulled out your night-vision goggles to peer down the extensive hallways. A few guards here and there, but you were pretty quickly able to tack down their movements and weave around them while subtly disarming the security cameras, all the way to the cell block that had become your destination.

You stood for a moment, back pressed against the wall just around the corner from his cell, listening for any concerning sounds or disturbances. You could hear a slight shuffling, but determined it was the movement of only one body. You could only hope it was him.

You steadily let out the breath you’d been holding and glided around the corner. You tip-toed over to the cell, and, forcing yourself to push through the burning urge to turn around and run, you stepped in front of the bars.

You quickly scanned for signs of movement. You were lucky. Yancy’s cell-mate was sleeping soundly, a light snore lifting from the top bunk.

But on the bottom bunk...

You saw his silhouette pressed to the far end of his mattress, his knees pressed into his chest, his head down. It was enough to cause you to pause. Even though the two of you had developed a bond over such a short time, you still didn’t know him all that well, or what he was capable of.

But it was too late to turn back. You unzipped the secret pocket in your pants leg and pulled out the skeleton key. It was near impossible to unlock a prison cell without making some slight noise, but you’d managed to open the door just enough to slide inside before a quiet creak sounded through the cell like a bomb. 

Yancy’s head whipped up, spotting you immediately, and you froze. 

He stared at you for several breaths, then frantically rubbed his eyes. When he pulled his hands away—

“y/n?” he blinked, his voice a mumble. “y/n…is—is that you?”

You took a single step into the cell, and nodded slowly. Yancy stared back at you a moment longer, his body straight and stiff.

“I…”

He practically leaped out of his bunk and was all at once in front of you. You had to tilt your head up ever so slightly to meet his eyes, and when you did the faint light from the hall revealed the glistening wet that lingered. You pointed to your own eyes with a small smile, silently questioning him.

“Me? Cryin'? Wha—nah, I'se was just…ah—“

You abruptly pressed your hand to his mouth to shut him up and peered up at his cell-mate. He hadn’t moved, but you couldn’t take any chances.

Yancy stared down at you, his eyes even wider. You shook your head, and, slowly, dropped your hand. Before you could make another move, you were constricted by a set of arms wrapped tight around you.

His embrace was tight, urgent, as if this was the first time he’d done this in a very long time. You managed to put your own arms up and around him, and gently placed your head against him. You caught the slightest tremble in his shoulders, and felt a fog forming in your own eyes when he spoke once more.

“Youse really came back.”

_______________________________________________________________________

@rats-this-username-is-taken @dragonangel201 @just-a-werido @ultra-mysticartisanbouquet @theworsttrashofall @writer-girl99 @pupylvr4905 @fastidious-and-a-mess

#yancy #yancy x reader #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #ahwm yancy #markiplier egos #yancy the prisoner

[carrera-ffxiv]

Morning Shadows Pt. 2

Her taunting farewell echoed in his mind as he set the table, waiting for Mira to arrive. It was his turn to cook. A few simple dishes as best he could muster. A variety of small side dishes littered about the center with some egg rolls. A rice and soup pairing would be the main course. The mood lighting on the top floor of his manor was spot on but the cooking really didn’t match the ambience. He wasn’t a culinary specialist but he knew how to make the stuff he liked and it was edible in the least.

Hadriel had pictured this moment dozens of times since his reinitiation to his former organization. A simple do or don’t. Does he tell her, or not? Until now he felt it better to keep it a secret. Now doubts lingered. If he was to move forward with her and keep her safe he couldn’t simply leave her uninvolved. He also knew that keeping secrets of this magnitude could only spell ruin.

A shake of a wet umbrella called out as S’mira ascended the staircase. Caught in a downpour on her way from the Ashen House -- typical! Rare were the days that the Lavender Beds didn’t see a bit of drizzle. The lacquered handle of the umbrella came to the railing and S’mira had begun removing her gloves, “What a surprise to find you home before me. Annnnd...having cooked?” she rose a brow, perhaps deep down she might have been a little insulted for being outdone with a meal though some might argue it could have been a pleasant welcome in comparison to S’mira’s own meals, “I never figured you for a cook.” and she rounded along the final bend of the railing.

“Less than busy day for you I assume? How’s the bar? V’shesre came by today for a bit of a visit, offering some sincere sorries for being as absent as she had been.”

He offered a smile in greeting and waved her statement off, “Had a reason I assume. Is she looking to come back to work? The bars have been fine. No issues as of late. Business grows steadily. How was work for you? Have a seat, relax, take a load off and have some food, I imagine you’re hungry.”

S’mira lifted a hand to adjust the crease at her yukata, “I’m not sure if she mentioned what she planned on doing indefinitely but I can imagine having an offer for a job once again upon a return isn’t something everyone can say they have privilege in having.” There was a mildly low chuckle and a raise of her eyebrows. Damn V’shesre’s ramen. “Famished!” she lied and took a seat to continue her gaze upwards to Hadriel, “Work is about the same as usual. I cannot say we’ve had much of an incline in our work load, not like we did when I first began but a consistent workload is a healthy one I think.”

“Mn?” he raised a brow, “Well… fair enough. I suppose part of that responsibility lies with me. I should do more to help around the company.”

Hadriel began to indulge in the dishes set before them yet he would pause to assess and note Mira’s pace. “Sorry, I should’ve asked you what you liked. I thought just making a hodgepodge assortment would do the job…” he offered apologetically. He casually reached through his hair, catching the strap along his eyepatch as he removed it and continued eating.

Of course S’mira had taken her time eating. She figured if she could slow her eating enough it would have given her time to digest the ramen from earlier -- it just wasn’t being digested fast enough to not look like a complete goon in front of Mr. Cool. Her crush? Her boyfriend? It wasn’t as if she really had a name or title for it, especially since they never really knew ‘what’ each other were in a sense, “Mhn? Oh.” and there was a pause as Mira took the napkin to her mouth and finished chewing before offering a response, “I’m not picky. Food in the belly is, well, food in the belly.”

His asymmetrically colored eyes settled on Mira. One a dark brown hue, the other a dazzling blue color. “I have something to tell you, and… I don’t know how you’ll take it. I didn’t want to tell you but… I think it’s better that I do than not.” he spoke in a solemn tone.

‘Perfect!’ she thought, more talking meant less eating. Not that it wasn’t good, but….

“Hm?” she hummed out again in his direction. She had never seen him fully remove the eyepatch until now, in all the months and time she had known him, S’mira had only caught a glimpse of that singular blue eye one time before. Suddenly, it felt as if the mood shifted into something a little more serious; possibly somber?

She lowered her hands to her lap and folded them there, “Well, I’m listening.”

He huffed a moment, “Sorry to ruin your meal but… I feel like I need to tell you. It’s not something easy to speak of but you at least deserve to know. Some time ago I was a part of an organization in Doma that fought against imperial rule. Those men and women were called the Black Blades of Doma.” he explained as he gauged her response.

From across the table S’mira was quiet though her eyebrow did hike ever so slightly. Curiosity written all over her face. She knew of him having worked alongside some sketchy folk before and it was barely a conversation even breached before now, “I have never heard of them.” in truth, she hadn’t. Most organizations she only knew of through Gado and his general dealings in and out of the cities. Then again she had never been to Doman territory until she met Hadriel, “Go on.” she offered and sniped a swallow from her glass.

“Well… if you had heard of us, we weren’t doing our jobs right. To be fair, it’s not really the name of the organization. We were nameless until that’s what people started calling us. Protectors. Defenders. Avengers. We saved lives by taking lives. Imperial lives, or any enemy of Doma.” he sighed a bit and scratched at his head, trying to figure out a way to word what he wanted to tell her.

He continued “Anyway, I left them when I came across the sea to Eorzea because we had a fundamental disagreement. Left every gil I had behind to help with reconstruction and took one of my subordinates with me to handle that disagreement. I’ve since righted that wrong. I met with some old friends afterwards and there was a decent amount of inner politics involved but it ended with an offer to retake my place. And I did.”

That brow lofted a bit higher as Hadriel spoke and S’mira gently prodded at her food. She wanted to look like she had been eating more even though listening seemed a bit more entertaining for the moment, “And now?” she asked. Surely there was more to it. The story didn’t seem too damning nor did she quite understand the necessity of why he would have to tell her.

“So where do you go from here with retaking that place then? Is it not something you wish to do or is this dinner a soft way of saying ‘I’m sorry, I have to leave’ sort of scenario?”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving. In fact I’m looking after their interests as we speak. One of those things is handling someone who might be overstepping their bounds. Someone else in the organization. Someone that was once close to me, a student of mine. That vial that Kohaku recovered contained illicit drugs. The person behind bringing those items here along with a sizable number of their subordinates is… that student. I should mention that person is now also one of the nine Shadows that lead the organization. I just... wanted you to know, just in case things spilled out once I went to handle this situation. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping things from you to deceive you maliciously. I’ve thought about this scenario in my head over and over again, and I couldn’t see a result that was going to be good. But… every scenario that played out in my head that involved me keeping this a secret from you was worse.”

Silence rested between them once more after Hadriel spoke and Mira hadn’t even touched her food again, not that she was trying to avoid it at this rate, it was natural by now. It looked as though everything flew right by her head, in one ear and out the other. Green eyes offering a series of delicate blinks and she finally moved, setting her napkin to the side of her plate and in dainty stride settled herself saddle style along Hadriel’s lap without invitation, “I appreciate you letting me know but if your little side jobs pollute the Wolves and the people within…” S’mira smiled sweetly and she adjusted that fancy tie resting along that crisp white shirt of his. Yanno, the ones he always wore? “-- You’ll have wished you did keep it a secret and I was none the wiser.”

A devilish grin escaped his calm facade. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A part of him wanted to fuck around and find out, but he retained a sense of normalcy. “I wouldn’t put you in a compromising position if I could help it Mira.” the ronin placed a hand at the small of her back, intentionally tracing his hand around her waist. “I’ll keep my business on my side of the house with specific people. I’ll prepare a list of personnel that do report to me for the organization and the… more questionable jobs. Rest assured… I’m always on your side, Mira, first and foremost.” The other gloved hand freely found its way to the top of Mira’s head as it brushed alongside one of her ears. He rubbed the side between a couple of his fingers, almost pinching as if to feel the texture. “Always wanted to do that.”

The ear within his touch gave a bit of a flick and a weird expression spread over her features, “Its as if though you’ve never touched a Miqo’te before.” there was a long sigh and she seemed to straighten up a bit more in her ‘seat’ of choice, “Okay, well from here on out you will have to keep me in the loop, for everyone’s safety and no hiding important stuff, okay?” 

The tip of her finger had been brought up and it poked him in the center of the forehead, “You are tampering with dangerous stuff and there are others to consider just by association. I’ve lived with Gado long enough to know how these things turn out. You do the quelling or you do the running. There is rarely any in between.”

His hand settled along her cheek. A thumb running along her face gingerly. “I don’t want to keep secrets from you. Hence the… talk. I didn’t want to risk ruining what we have.” he said in almost a whisper, considering their proximity.

“And what is it you would label, ‘what we have’ per se? I don’t think such has been established.”

He would simply answer her question with a gesture he was longing to give for a long while. Lips meeting and confirming what feelings stirred about in his heart.

What fingers had been along Hadriel’s tie had ceased and S’mira froze though barely a blink had passed until she finally melted into the gesture with heavy thoughts and spark-returned kiss. Did she hold her breath? How long did it even last?

Enough to where when she finally pulled away there was little room for words, light nearly nonexistent between them in the dimly lit living area of the large mansion. That had certainly answered her question, an answer in which she had not anticipated but far more explanatory than any slew of words or excuses Hadriel could have given her.

“I… hope that answers the question. Or… do I have to invite another Miqo’te from your tribe and fight them to the death? I’m not sure how all that works.” he joked, knowing she wasn’t beholden to her kin.

A series of blinks was given, cheeks pink and mouth agape at Hadriel’s comment, “N-no. I mean if you were planning to be a breeding male within the Seeker Tribe’s, sure, you would have to fight the Nuhn for that right but it is a good thing that I don’t live by those rules and weird lifestyle.”

“Good. I want you all to myself.” “Even if a Nuhn could, I wouldn’t be interested.”

He scoffed a moment, “Better not be.” A grin returned and he met her lips again, drinking in the elation of the moment. For a brief moment he forgot about all the stress to come.

“Was never one for a man with a tail.” the Seeker managed to snipe in beyond parted lips and her frame shifted, arms curling up along the Hyur’s neck. This had certainly beat filling herself sick on a second meal and she had a warm lap to boot.

#https://smira-asah-xiv.tumblr.com/ #collab