#particularly bad idea to do after sleeping ~3 hours the previous night as well as having a flight today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nostaren · 3 years

Text

Mr. Lonely

TOJI FUSHIGURO X READER

part 15 | series masterlist | next

Spending time with your underclassmen had proved to be really refreshing, as hesitant to the idea as you had been at first. The time was as such that you ideally should’ve been asleep by now, especially considering you had places to be tomorrow, but you didn’t feel tired in the slightest.

At exactly 3 am, you, Yuuji and Nobara were venturing the school premises, walking animatedly and acting very much like drunken fools without actually having had anything to drink. It was odd how much energy the three of you had, what with having not slept since the previous night.

“I’m telling you, he must be putting wax in his hair to have it stand up like that.”

“I don’t know, Itadori… Fushiguro doesn’t seem like the person to do anything with his hair other than brush it.”

You thought about it, Megumi standing in front of a mirror and maneuvering his hands to style each strand. You snorted at the mental image. “Definitely not.”

Itadori’s hands moved to run through his pink locks. “And I do?”

“Yes,” both you and Nobara said in unison.

His response was gleeful. “So out of the two of us, I actually take care of myself!”

You and Nobara shared a glance, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles. While not particularly regimen-conscious, Megumi definitely took better care of his hygiene, the lack of smelling of sweat nearly as frequently as Yuuji being evidence to that.

“Why are you laughing? Oh! By the way, Kugisaki, we needed to read some pages in some book until tomorrow—no, later today? I just… don’t remember which book… or which pages.”

“What!? Why the hell are you telling me now?”

“You were away with Fushiguro and Panda all day! Oh no, I forgot to tell him too—ow! Stop hitting me!”

You zoned out the rest of the conversation, not really a part of it, instead becoming lost in your thoughts while trudging along to their pace.

The original plan had been to bring Megumi with you, too, but when Yuuji had incessantly knocked on his door, his response after a few minutes was to open it, call you lot morons for waking him up over something so ridiculous, then promptly sliding it shut. Hence Megumi being the subject of discussion for a good bit of your walk when the male wasn’t there to hear any of it. Nothing too horrible was brought up, just stuff that would surely make him sneeze a couple of times.

Before Yuuji had joined in, it was Nobara that dragged you out of bed, angrily going out about how men weren’t shit and how you shouldn’t spend even one second of your precious time mulling over him. Hearing her exclaim all of that without even knowing the full story pulled at your heartstrings. Nobara proved time after time how much of an unconditional friend she was, having your back even when you didn’t ask for it.

You hadn’t really been left to sort your thoughts the whole day, having been accompanied by at least one person at all times if you didn’t count the small window between when Gojo had escorted you to your room to when Nobara had come to get you. And while it would have been comforting to spill everything to Nobara—heck, even Gojo—you held back because you couldn’t help but feel it was an irrational sadness.

Because yes, you did feel a little sad.

The feeling creeped up on you as a few minutes passed of blankly watching shadows shifting across trees and listening to the bickering of your friends, sometimes adding to it, but otherwise just tagging along.

It was from being attentive of your surroundings that allowed you to notice a fourth person. A lone figure leaned on the railing of the approaching bridge, slightly hunched over and lazily typing away at his phone.

It was by no means odd to see a person out at this hour, but within these particular school grounds? That was odd. You were outside despite it being past curfew, and you couldn’t recognize the silhouette in the distance to be one of the students. There weren't even as many students as there were fingers on your two hands, so you'd recognize any of them.

Hopefully he wasn't a teacher that you just didn't recognize, like Nanami.

Or, if he was a teacher, you hoped he was one that was as lenient about rules as Gojo.

Either way, you'd likely just pass him by and throw a casual ‘hello’ at him. No need to work yourself up over it.

But in the day's second douse of horrendous luck, your eyes, even in the dark, happened to catch sight of the particular way black strands of hair fell over his face. Your lips puckered as you took in his quite tall frame and the outline of his legs. After a moment of contemplation, you, brows furrowing, craned your neck to get a better look at him.

Was that—?

No. Fucking. Way.

“Guys let’s go that way,” you attempted to whisper over their exhilarated yelling from a heated argument, heart hammering loudly in your ears and adding to the stress of a situation you did not want to be in. When that didn’t work, you pulled at the back of Nobara’s shirt.

“Hey, that’s going to wrinkle!”

Her exclamation fell short when seeing your form shrunken on itself in an attempt at hiding.

“…you okay?”

“It’s—“ you threw a pointed glance towards the figure up front. “It’s him.”

She turned to look.

“Not so obvious,” you hissed, inwardly groaning at how there was no way a certain someone wouldn’t realize you were now talking about him if he so much as glanced up.

Yuuji meanwhile observed your exchange, oblivious to what exactly was happening but still managing to draw some (very faulty) conclusions of his own.

“Eh? Do you know him?” Yuuji squinted his eyes as if that would make him see better in the dark. To your horror, his arm moved up in a wave. “HEEEEEY!! OVER HE—mmph!”

You tackled him to the ground with a hand pressed to his mouth, tumbling into a nearby brush just as the figure ahead looked up from his phone. That left Nobara standing there awkwardly, staring at Fushiguro looking at her as if she’d grown two heads.

Your hands moved to loosely enclose around Yuuji’s throat in a mock-choking manner, whispering, “You’re a moron, you know that?”

“I know,” he whispered back. “But what did I do wrong this time?”

Your mouth opened to take your words back because now you felt a little bad, but Nobara’s “psst” interrupted you.

You looked up from Yuuji. “What do I do!?” Nobara hissed through gritted teeth.

A few seconds of deafening silence passed whereas you tried to think of something, but you apparently thought for too long because she finally decided on very obviously ducking into the bush with the rest of the crew.

Great. Real inconspicuous, Nobara. No way he could’ve seen that.

The three of you sat looking at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to do next.

“What’s he even doing here?” you broke the silence, being mindful of keeping your voice low.

“He can’t enter without permission, so he must be here for Gojo-sensei or principal Yaga… Right?” came Nobara’s answer.

She was right. He couldn’t have gone through the barriers put up by Tengen if not invited. So had Gojo somehow found out that it was Fushiguro that was involved? Or…

You couldn’t feel even a slither of cursed energy reeking from his person, no matter how hard you concentrated, meaning he must be a civilian. Gojo had a knack for doing things inappropriately, but to invite a civilian into Jujutsu High? Surely, he didn’t…

But then again, you knew nothing of their relationship.

Either way, you just wished to remain hidden until he was done with whatever business he had here so you could make your way to the dorms and sleep the accumulated stress away.

Some shuffling from the left broke your thoughts. Yuuji was crouching down, peering through the leaves. “He’s gone.”

A collective sigh of relief was heard.

It didn’t last long.

“This peeping tom a friend of yours?”

“Uwaah!”

The three of you scrambled away from the source of the sudden voice.

While the question undoubtedly was directed at you, Fushiguro didn’t seem to know who you were.

The three of you shared a knowing glace, each expression some form of shock, feeling a little disturbed over how he had managed to sneak behind all of you, civilian or not.

His eyes skimmed over your forms, back and forth and then further to the sides as if looking for someone else. Not finding it, his eyes zoned in on you and Nobara. “So, which one of you is it?”

Nobara, immediately realizing what he meant, angrily exclaimed, “Do I look that old to you!?” and pointed an accusatory finger at you, as if you were the one to cause her offense. You wanted to tell her that three years wasn’t much, and that it wasn’t really enough to tell that much of a difference, but your mouth remained clamped shut.

Green eyes met yours. “Leave us.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Yuuji moving to stand. “You expect us to just leave Y/n-senpai alone with you!?”

Sweet, sweet Yuuji.

Nobara moved to stand as well, grabbing Yuuji by the arm. “We’ll be on our way now. You two take your time.”

Horrible, horrible Nobara.

You thought she’d want you to—had even told you to—move past him, not to figure things out. Admittedly, you’d rather do the former than the latter because at least then you wouldn’t need to talk about feelings yuck and you hadn’t had any time to really think whether or not to forgive him, should he apologize.

Yuuji sputtered in disagreement and you could do nothing but break eye-contact with the looming man above you to watch as Nobara dragged a flailing Yuuji behind her, wishing it was you in his stead.

“You have alllll night,” she winked.

And then you were alone with Fushiguro.

taglist: @yutaeminnie @dingdongitsbees @203steph @alltimeluw @leetucethesauce @whoreuc @mistalli @sinatraass @your-consulting-fangirl @johnnysactualgf @katzurras @levicorpses @shigaraki-is-my-master @keigobby @90s-belladonna @emerald-time @reiikonee @blackhairaddict @nellieleverlin @slash3rcore @eclqypsee @kawaiipiong @achillean-affection @angsty-microwave @kkzumee @htiaf-faith @tirzamisu @luhvsnoir @fuzzybombom

#OOOOO CLIFFHANGER??#the moment we’ve all been waiting for #is y/n finally gonna meet da worm #wingman nobara #this is unedited #I just wanted to get it out and sleep lol #I’ll fix any errors tomorrow #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #smau #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen smau #imagines

407 notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 3 years

Text

Announcement: No Longer Answering Rubber Stamp Questions

Introduction

Here at Writing With Color, we’ve noticed a shift in the questions we are receiving. In the past, the majority of questions challenged the necessity of diversity in fiction or asked for assistance in making diversity seem more plausible in world-building. We also received many questions on how to describe and characterize people of color in respectful ways that didn’t demonize different races, ethnicities and religions.

By and large, we see that our followers understand why these concepts are important, and for that we congratulate you! This kind of progress takes real, long-term, internal work. Our team hopes that any advice or input you received from us over the years has helped you continue to develop as a writer. We hope you will continue to support us in the future and are especially pleased to hear from our non-white commenters who have let us know when our content has let them feel seen or heard.

However…

We have noticed a recent trend in asks that is discouraging. Many askers seem concerned with receiving our blanket approval of a particular concept or character. These asks often don’t provide us with the direction and context crucial to providing advice from a race or ethnicity-based perspective. Examples include:

“I’m writing a character from [insert background] who has [insert traits]. Is this ok?”

“I’m creating a world where I have made [insert concept] the basis of my world-building. Is this allowed?”

Hi, I’m a [insert identity]. Is it problematic to have [concept/ character] in my story?

“I’m creating a [Race A] character with [these] traits, a [Ethnicity 1] character with [those] traits, a [Race B] character with [some other traits] and a [sex/ gender minority] character with a [different set of traits]. Is this combination offensive?

We call these questions rubber stamp questions. If this describes your question, there’s no need to feel bad. We realize that there was never an explicit explanation of this concept. In addition, our team is mindful of the changing demographics of tumblr that might make it mean we are receiving questions from a younger user-base are not yet familiar with many of the principles we outline on this website. However, on that note…

What is Rubber Stamping?

Rubber stamping refers to the practice of seeking an endorsement without questioning or seeking to alter the status quo. The purpose of Writing With Color is to be a focal point for discussion about diversity in writing rather than simply prescribe a series of corrective measures. Without knowing the asker’s intent (Which we can’t, since we aren’t mind readers), our moderators are not in a position to provide you with carte blanche for your writing concept in the name of all other non-white people. Yes, we have a certain level of skill and expertise on many of these topics, but we are not here to take on the burden of all PoC to approve your writing choices. Nor would it be fair to other PoC if you took our response as a reason to dismiss the perspectives of other PoC (An unfortunately common phenomenon).

Bluntly, on the moderator end, these asks are also incredibly frustrating because they are vague and thus:

Time consuming

Labor intensive (mentally and emotionally)

The last example from the previous section (AKA “Laundry lists”) is particularly time consuming because multiple moderators must collaborate to produce an answer that boils down to each moderator saying, “I guess it depends??? *shrug*” but in slightly different ways.

Perhaps the biggest problem with rubber stamp asks is they feel (to us) like they are more about the asker’s desire for closure/ approval/ virtue signaling than a willingness to participate in the kind of education and discussion on diversity we are trying to foster on this blog.

To that effect: We will no longer be answering such questions.

(If you sent in such ask before this goes up on November 15th, 2020, a moderator may reach out to you individually to better address your inquiry as submitted.)

However: Don’t worry! We also are here to teach you how to makes these questions better!

Fixing Rubber Stamp questions:

1. Be specific.

Instead of Can I/ May I, try “How can I” or “When can I” or “What can I”?

Thus instead of: “I’m Christian. May I create a Jewish character seeking to become an actress in 1920s Hollywood?” —> “How do I, as a Christian, create a compelling Jewish character while being mindful of the interplay between my own intrinsic bias and historical accounts of prominent Jewish figures in early Hollywood?”Or, instead of: “I want to write a story about a modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, but with magic. Is this problematic? —> “Given the continuation of modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, what are some tropes I should avoid if I decide to go with a modern fantasy set in this region?”

2. Remember: The goal is improved understanding, not approval. Sometimes, you really just want to know *why* you can’t use a particular concept, and that curiosity is good! Questions that ask “Why?” in good faith are often how you can learn a lot about your own intrinsic biases and the limits of your own knowledge.

Thus, instead of: If I write about [controversial topic], am I a bad person? —> Why is it better for someone like me to not write about [controversial topic]?

This approach has the bonus effect of making us feel like you actually care about what we think.

3. Write your question as a draft: Edit your ask at least once or twice to provide as much information as possible while being concise. I’ve told this to college students before, but I can tell when a person wrote their assignment by the quality of the writing. Writing done late at night, when sleep deprived and without at least one edit contains extraneous information while not having a clear point.

Going through your question (Preferably a day after you wrote it) will help you narrow down what you really want to know.

Remember: You all have free will and can write whatever you please. We presume that you seek WWC’s input because you wish to write on issues pertaining to people of color with greater levels of awareness. On a practical note, we recognize that social media, trolling, call-outs, doxxing and other dimensions of cyberbullying make writers online hesitant to do anything unless they think they have the majority of the public on their side. There are times when it is obvious that the asker is asking more because they need approval to feel less anxious when they share their work with others.

However, if the above is your worry, either you aren’t ready to write on this topic or you need to rethink the boundaries you set with the online communities/ individuals you interact with as well as how you manage your internet presence. With respect to personal anxieties when it comes to writing, morality, your conscience and so forth, we recommend turning to your own support systems IRL. As relative strangers on the internet, we are not well-qualified to allay personal concerns.

Remember: Writing with diversity is like training for a marathon. Give yourself permission to expand your comfort zone at the pace your research capabilities and experience allow!

We appreciate that you all trust us to provide helpful, well-thought out feedback for your ideas, and we also thank you for respecting our perspectives even if you may disagree. In the same vein, we request that you put the level of thought into your questions you think appropriate given that another human being is going to spend, at a minimum, several hours coming up with their response. We look forward to hearing from you!

- The WWC Team

(A link to this article will be added to the pinned FAQ for everyone’s reference)

#WWC #Announcements #Housekeeping #FAQ article #Rubber Stamp #Question Guidelines #Updates #WWC Updates

1K notes · View notes

boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Panic at the Haunted Maze

Part of meet cute Mondays

My masterlist

Marinette couldn't see her group anymore. She didn't think anyone would miss her. She had just signed up to join a random group but she had turned and when she looked back she couldn't see them. All she found was another dead end. She didn't have her own flashlight and her phone died. Her shoes were definitely covered in mud.

Of course it started raining again.

She had done a corn maze in France before but it was nothing like this haunted maze. The path had been hardened and easy to follow when she went with a group from lycée. She remembered it being brighter and full of laughter. Maybe she was looking back with her heart shaped glasses. It was the unplanned moment that Marinette had finally been able to tell Adrien how she felt. Everything else about the night felt happy and fuzzy with the memory of her first kiss. It had been a couple years later that she found out her two previous kisses had been with him.

She definitely didn't remember soft, sticky mud underfoot with cold rain pouring down. Her pants might be as bad off her shoes. It was worse than walking through snow. Which would be happening soon as she could see the icy rain being joined by large, wet snowflakes as the temperature was dropping. That might be scarier than anything she had seen in the maze so far. Mostly it was jump scares but apparently the dead end she was currently in was so obviously the wrong path that no one had bothered to put anything scary there. She really needed to find a way out before she froze.

She pushed herself on and she was fairly certain she had found the main path. There were definitely louder, creepy sounds and some moving light up ahead. She knew that meant there would be a jump scare around the next corner so she took a breath and squared her shoulders to prepare herself. She could see the person moving quickly towards her in the dark. It was a black light moving back and forth, shining on all the floating ghosts. She could see where they were tethered and being blown to look spooky. But then the light illuminated the person. It could have been anything but it was a person in a catsuit, all bright white against the black around him. The large predatory eyes turned to her and the mouth formed an evil grin.

She didn’t even realize that she was screaming but she could hear the piercing sound. She rushed forward and slammed into Chat Blanc in a panic. He fell over and somehow didn’t reach out to grab her. She raced on in a frenzy to get away. She needed to find a place to transform. She could barely form words when she ran into civilians just ahead. They were trying to calm her down but she couldn’t process the English in her panic. One of them didn’t wait for her to process. He wrapped something warm around her and scooped her up. In only seconds he had reached the end of the haunted maze.

---

Jason was surprised when he turned at the sound of crashing in the maze. He hadn’t remembered any of the last scares being particularly scary but something had clearly been knocked over and then a woman ran right into him. She was clearly in distress about something. Taking in her appearance with a too thin jacket, that had probably been fine an hour ago before the rain and now the snow and then the mud halfway to her knees, Jason didn’t wait to find out what had spooked her. He just wanted to help her. He wrapped her in his jacket and carried her to the exit. There were a few tents set up for those who needed a calm place to recover and there was a variety of warm drinks.

Possibly it wasn’t the best thing for him to do with a stranger, but she didn’t seem to be with anyone so he sat back on the cot in the tent and pulled her against his chest after helping her out of the wet jacket. He kept his arms around her, speaking softly or singing in French. The only French songs he knew were Jagged Stone ones but he just sang them much softer like a lullaby and hoped she would forgive him after. It took a bit but when he was trying to remember the words to Jagged’s song about a cartoon superhero Ladybug she seemed to become aware. She filled in his missing words anyway.

She still didn’t seem to fully realize where she was but he passed her a cup of hot cocoa and she started to sip it slowly. She was no longer shaking and her breathing had started to even out. Jason pulled back as soon as she started shifting. He was only trying to get her calm and warm so he didn’t want to overstep any more than he already had. He left his jacket on her as well as the blankets covering her arms and legs before trying to find out more.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“I’m feeling very embarrassed and a bit confused,” she said.

“I don’t know what you saw but it was clearly enough to take you to something your brain couldn’t escape from,” he explained. “Did you come with anyone?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t people I knew. I doubt they even noticed I was missing.”

"I'm Jason. Can you tell me who you are?"

"Uh, Marinette."

“Okay Marinette, we were not able to find anyone missing a person. There were 3 larger groups that had gotten out around that time.”

“I got lost a while back. I couldn't see and I got stuck in the mud. It started raining and everything was worse.”

“Do you have a way home or anyone who will be near you when you are home?”

“I rode in a van that brought a group of people. I could probably find another one leaving if there are other groups around.”

“I think they are all gone for the night. They are closing up here.”

“Oh no. I guess I could call a cab. My phone died though.”

“I have an idea. I live really close to here. It is not just me. I have brothers and sisters staying over. They wanted to make it an all night thing and keep on with scary movies.”

“I couldn’t do that. You don’t even know me and I definitely am not in the mood for scary movies.”

“I know you are having a rough night. You are cold and alone. I can’t just leave you. So if you want to go home, I will take you. But if you want to stay by the fire with lots of snacks and a pile of blankets, I’m offering,” he smiled. “Actually I’m begging. There are plenty of warm clothes and I’ll put on Pride and the Prejudice. It's the solution to all bad days.”

“You want to watch Pride and the Prejudice?”

“Of course I do. It’s a classic,” he said with a smile.

Jason kept pushing because he could see that she seemed interested. He really didn’t want her to be alone after tonight. He put her in the back of the car with Steph after introducing her to everyone, and he and Dick sat up front. They talked and joked for the few minutes it took until they reached the manor. He sent a message ahead to Alfred so he could have a fire going and heat up drinks for them. When they arrived Marinette was dragged off with Steph to get her clean dry clothes and an offer for a bath. Marinette chose to just clean up as much as possible and get directly into the clothes so she could warm up faster.

---

Jason had not been kidding about the set up. She could see that he had Pride and the Prejudice queued up and a variety of foods set out. He pulled her over and dumped her into a pile of blankets wrapping one around her. Marinette tried to argue with the change in movie line up but Jason assured her that nothing had changed. The scary movies were still going in another room but he was going to watch Pride and the Prejudice anyway and it would be better with her. He sat near her on the couch and pushed play. Steph, Dick and Babs were in there with them but as it got later they left one by one.

Marinette felt so warm and cozy. It reminded her of movie nights with her parents. She didn’t know when she had slipped down into the covers but the credits were rolling now. She must have noticed the music change. She had fallen asleep and she was now leaning on Jason. He seemed to be okay with it. He had leaned back into the couch and had pulled some of the blanket over himself. His breathing was steady while he slept and Marinette found it comforting.

She knew it was odd to be basically cuddling with a stranger but she felt safe. Jason had helped her when she was panicking and he had offered choices with every suggestion. Each choice had always included the option of having one of his sisters there. He was protective but he also realized that he was a large man who could seem intimidating and he countered that with giving her agency to make her own choices

It was probably the drowsiness that had her move back down against him. He moved in his sleep and his arm pulled her close. She was smiling as she slipped back to sleep.

Taglist

Maribat

@adrestar | @zynna

@technicallyburninggarden | @iloontjeboontje | @certainmuffinbagelcalzone

#maribat #jasonette #meet cute mondays #fluffy #boldlyanxious

107 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 4: The Star Spangled Man With A Plan

Summary: As the SSR deals with the aftermath of the attempted theft of the serum by Hydra, Steve finds himself side-lined until he’s offered a golden opportunity to help fight the good fight…but it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be as he quickly finds out.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: This series is my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge. As always, some creative liberties taken.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Star Spangled Rebirth Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Absolutely not!” Katie blazed her hands on her hips “That is NOT what Erskine was going to do.”

“Well Erskine isn’t here is he, in case it had escaped your notice.” Phillips bit back “And neither is the serum after the last vial of it was smashed out on Brooklyn Pier.”

Steve sighed, his head bowing a little.

“Erskine said that post the transformation, Steve was supposed to be monitored for twenty-four hours before he did any major physical activity.” Katie continued, “Given that, and what just happened, you seriously want to take his blood?”

“She has a point.” Howard stepped in. “Personally, I’m not sure it’s wise. Private Rogers should be given the rest of the day at least under observation as was the original plan, where we can run the physical tests Abe had been planning to do.” He took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly.

“We owe it to him to do this right.” Katie spoke again, her voice loaded with emotion as she turned her eyes to the Colonel. Phillips gave a little groan, dragging his hand down his face “We can take the samples tomorrow.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Steve spoke, surprising himself with his sudden forthright nature and Katie glanced at him.

“No.” She said simply, turning back to Phillips. Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at Howard who was silently chuckling at his sister’s bossy nature. He gave a little shrug of his shoulders, and then his brown eyes turned back to watch as Katie stood looking at Phillips expectantly.

“You know, I’m beginning to rue the day I ever asked you two to join this team.” The Colonel shot, and Steve watched as Katie turned to Howard, smirking. “And wipe that look off of your face right now, Agent.”

“Sir.” She nodded, and then everyone’s attention was taken by Agent Carter as she walked back into the room.

“We have it.” She nodded, “The HYDRA Sub. It’s in the Tech Lab.”

“You wanna wait until tomorrow to work on that too? Perhaps, give that time to recover as well?” Phillips looked at Howard who snorted.

“You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” He arched an eyebrow as he looked at Phillips, “But I prefer to think of it as a metric for potential. You’ll be a great man someday, Colonel Phillips.”

Katie’s shoulders began to shake and she turned back towards Steve who was watching the scene play out in front of him, utterly perplexed. He still couldn’t get his head round Katie’s blatant disregard for her Commanding Officer’s authority. Howard, well, he could understand that a little more as he wasn’t in the man’s chain of command but Katie was. And she seriously didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Do we have any more intel on Schmidt?” Phillips turned to Peggy who blinked and looked at him.

“No, Sir. Nothing,” she took a deep breath, “but I think after today it’s safe to say that was another thing Dr. Erskine was correct about. Schmidt clearly has ambitions beyond simply being Hitler’s Chief Scientist. I think we should consider the fact that he’s equally, if not more dangerous.”

At that Steve heard Erskine’s words from the previous night as clear and as loud as if the man were speaking them to him in person. Schmidt must become that superior man.

He cleared his throat a little and felt all eyes in the room turn to him. “I think Agent Carter is right, Sir.” Steve took a deep breath “Last night, Dr Erskine was explaining to me about Schmidt. He said that Schmidt is convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, waiting to be found...”

“So he’s bonkers.” Phillips looked at Steve. “Terrific.”

“You know, we have forces out there fighting the Nazis.” Katie pondered for a moment, “Maybe the SSR needs to concentrate on HYDRA.”

Phillips looked at Katie, “You wanna chase HYDRA?”

She shrugged, “it seems logical to me. A lunatic Schmidt might be, but he clearly has a vast amount of followers that buy into the same rhetoric. That makes them dangerous.”

“And let’s not forget, HYDRA is, or was, Hitler’s deep science department. Now, Steve stopped them from getting the vial of Erskine’s completed formula, but who knows what else they have in their grasp.” Peggy added, “I saw a lot of things when I was under, a lot of things that if perfected could be disastrous. We chose to concentrate on Hitler as he had control of HYDRA. But, if Schmidt is going rogue as we suspect, then I’m afraid Sir,that as Agent Stark suggests, he could prove to be far more dangerous.”

“Just what we need,” Howard groaned, “two enemies to be fighting.”

“Oh pur-lease.” Katie looked at him. “Like you’re doing any actual fighting.”

“Shut up.” Howard glared at her, “You know as well as I do that I was plucked out for this instead of going to the front lines, just like you were.”

“The pair of you can take your squabbles outside.” Phillips looked at them, “I’m done. I need to brief Senator Brandt.” With that he turned to Peggy. “Get onto base and tell them they need to get into the President, inform him of our intentions so that he can approve them. You,” he then looked at Howard, “take a look at that sub, see what we’re dealing with from a technology point of view. As for you,” he looked at Katie, then to Steve, then back again. “take Rogers for whatever observations it was Erskine wanted to do. Then I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. Back here at Zero-Six Hundred.”

With that he swept from the room leaving the four of them behind. Steve turned to Katie, his arms folded.

“You know, I don’t need a load of tests to tell you I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. I feel, well, I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“That maybe, but I’d feel better if you went along with it, please.”

“Oh, she’s serious, Rogers,” Howard smirked, “she said the magic word.”

At that Katie turned to glare at her brother, who held her gaze, his expression not faltering in the slightest. She threw him a positively filthy look before she turned back to Steve and he looked at her as she once more began to speak. “Erskine wanted to make sure that everything was okay, monitor the effects properly at least for twenty-four hours. We have no idea if it’s permanent, what it’s actually doing to you, whether the effects and transformation is still ongoing.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve held his hand up, giving her a nod, “Fine, I’ll submit for monitoring. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Could someone please find me something to eat?” He looked around, his stomach giving a huge growl at the perfect moment to emphasise his point, “I’ve never been this hungry in my life, and believe me, I’m no stranger to living with an empty stomach.”

**** It turns out that Steve’s appetite had increased exponentially too, which was to be expected considering his metabolism was working far faster than it ever had before. He wolfed down a huge helping of Potato and Hot Dog salad, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, an assortment of vegetables and a huge helping of apple pie. He had no idea where Katie had managed to conjure it from, and frankly he didn’t care either. All he knew was that in that one sitting he’d consumed more food than he usually ate in a day.

The rest of the day was taken up with him being poked and prodded and attached to all sorts of strange machines. Howard explained what each of them was for, but he wasn’t paying much attention. His mind was whirring, finally processing what had happened in the last couple of hours. He had been so sure about what was going to happen post getting the serum, that he’d be shipped out to help in the fight and now he didn’t have a clue where he was going to go, especially if they were now going to refocus their efforts on HYDRA. That said, it was all helping the war effort wasn’t it? HYDRA was a huge threat, if he was able to help take them down in any way, shape or form, then he was ok with that.

One of the doctors and Howard started explaining to him what the serum had done and at that point he tuned in to some of it, picking out the odd phrase like ‘super strength’, ‘increased stamina’, ‘enhanced metabolism’, ‘fast healing’, ‘super-sharp senses’, ‘memory expansion’, ‘logical improvement’. Howard looked at him and explained that as far as he could see, the transformation was complete, and was as permanent as they could hope. But Erskine had said that the serum wasn’t infallible, therefore how long the effects would last into the future they didn’t know. Forty, maybe fifty years or so. Steve wasn’t particularly bothered about that though, by the time that happened he would be well into his sixties or seventies and would he really care then?

Katie arrived back just as the Doctor who had been dealing with him had instructed the nurse to remove the heart monitor form his chest.

“Hi.” She smiled and Steve turned to face her, fulling intending on greeting her back, but before he could, the Doctor made a little noise of surprise.

“What is it?” Howard asked and Steve hastily turned towards them, wondering what was wrong.

“His heart rate just spiked.”

Steve gulped and hastily looked away from Katie as Howard turned to face him. His eyes flicked from Steve, to his sister who was stood in the doorway, a bashful smile on her face but to her credit she held her brother’s gaze as the man gave a groan.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, stepping into the room. “You done treating him like a guinea pig?”

“Hey, you were the one that insisted on the monitoring!” Howard pointed at her.

“Yes, because it was what Abe wanted,” she shrugged, “and I wanted to make sure everything was okay before you guys started stealing his blood like a pack of starving vampires.”

“Well you needn’t panic.” Howard arched an eyebrow. “The transformation seems to be text book. Your Super Soldier is as ready as can be.”

“Fuck you.” Katie shot back, and Howard gave a chuckle as Steve let out a little groan at the man’s teasing.

“That bad an idea huh, dating my sister?” Howard turned to Steve and he flushed immediately.

“That…no, I didn’t say that, I mean, not that we…”

“Ignore him Steve, he’s being a jerk.” Katie rolled her eyes. “And if he knows what’s good for him he’ll shut up before I knock his teeth out.”

“Threat received and understood, Kiddo.” Howard held his hands up as the Doctor bustled around and handed Steve back his t-shirt.

“You can leave now, Captain Rogers, but we would like you to stay here tonight.”

“Why?” Steve frowned as he pulled the SSR logo t-shirt over his head.

“Because I want to monitor your levels at complete rest.” The Doctor smiled. “Humour me, please.”

Steve shrugged as he swung his legs off the bed. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

“Your stuff is being brought over from the barracks.” Katie smiled softly.

“Any idea on where I’ll be going after that?” Steve stood up carefully, taking his time to pull himself up to his new full height.

Katie shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what Colonel Phillips and the President agree. I suspect we’ll head over to London HQ if we’re going after HYDRA in Europe, but we should find out tomorrow morning.”

“So, we have a free evening?” Howard looked at Katie.

“Well, sort of. Unless you want to get a head start on that submarine thing.” She waved her hand at the door.

“I don’t need a head start.” Howard shrugged, somewhat arrogantly, “I’m a genius, I’ll crack it tomorrow.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “You know I really admire your modesty.”

Howard chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what I was suggesting was that if we do have a free few hours, how about a drink? I got a bottle of vintage Macallan stashed in my lab.” He paused and Steve watched as his shoulders slumped a little and he took a deep breath before he looked back up at both Steve then to his sister. “Me and Abe had been saving it for tonight."

Katie took a deep breath before she walked over to her brother who wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, gently kissing the top of her head. Steve looked away for a second, not wanting to intrude on the moment as he watched the doctor and nurse leave the room.

“We should have a toast to him,” Katie spoke, her voice cracking a little as she stepped away from Howard. She turned to Steve and smiled, “he’d have been proud this had worked.”

Steve nodded a little side smile pulling at his mouth as he remembered the banter he and Erskine had shared about the schnapps. With a nod he looked at Katie, the smile spreading further across his face. “He owed me a drink.”

*****

It was a strange night.

The three of them had shared a glass each of the smooth whiskey, which Steve had thoroughly enjoyed. It had tasted so smooth yet crisp. And he wasn’t sure if that was down to the fact it was stupidly expensive and high end, or the fact his taste-buds simply worked better. Howard hadn’t raised the issue of him and Katie again, for which Steve was glad. If he had been asked, he couldn’t say how he would have answered because he wasn’t entirely sure what they were. A casual fling? A hook up? He knew what he wanted it to be, but once again he was brought crashing back to reality. They were in the middle of a war. It was impossible.

Despite the myriad of thoughts and emotions running through his mind, Steve slept better than he had ever slept in his life. His chest wasn’t bad, he didn’t struggle for breath when he lay down flat meaning that for the first time he could remember he didn’t need to sleep propped up. Yet, on the other hand, he felt like he was waking up every five or ten minutes. The slightest sound or movement made by the various SSR staff nurses and guards milling around the small medical wing of the lab woke him thanks to his now enhanced, fine tuned senses. The Doctors and Howard had assured Steve that whilst it might take a while but once he was used to the heightening of his senses it would start to feel ‘normal’ to him in a way and he would learn to use them and appreciate them.

With a yawn, he cracked his head side to side as he raised it off the pillow. Whilst he didn’t know what time it was thanks to the lack of any natural light in the room, he knew that this time he wasn’t getting back to sleep. He climbed from his bed, stretched and waited for the usual pain to shoot down his back, but nothing. He then stood up, a little too fast and pitched forward before he steadied himself and drew up to his full new height, squaring his now broad shoulders back as he stood tall in his new posture. Again, Howard had told him he would soon learn to adjust his movements to compensate for the fact that he no longer needed to put as much effort into them. No sooner had he done that, a nurse appeared with his breakfast and she was followed by Agent Carter who wished him a good morning and then handed him a formal Army Uniform in his new size. With a soft smile and a thanks, he took it before laying it down on the bed, admiring the green wool and crisp shirt.

“When you’re ready then we’d like to take the blood samples.” Peggy spoke softly, “but there’s no rush. Take your time.”

“Rather just get it over and done with Ma’am.” Steve said politely and truthfully. The sooner he was done being prodded, poked and stabbed the sooner he could find out what was going on.

With that in mind he ate, washed up, dressed and was ready in half an hour flat. He was led out of the bunk room he’d been sleeping in and down the corridor back to the observation room he’d been in the previous day where he was instructed to roll up his sleeves and lay back as they proceeded to siphon off his blood. When they had one bag full they then hooked him up to another, and then another, the Doctor instructing him to tell them if he felt light headed but Steve had a suspicion that the enhancements to his body would simply enable him to generate more as fast as they took it. That said, by the time the third bag was full he was bored. Peggy seemed to sense it and she turned to the doctor who nodded and instructed everyone that they were done.

“Think you got enough?” Steve asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code.” Peggy replied simply, “but without Dr. Erskine, it could take years.”

“He deserved more than this.” Steve replied a little sadly and he meant it. The serum had been Erskine’s life work and now there was nothing to show for it as the last vial of the serum had been smashed on Brooklyn Pier.

“Well, if it could only work once, he’d be proud it was you,” Peggy looked at him.

Steve glanced at her, feeling a little embarrassed at her praise but he didn’t dwell on it and neither did she. Instead, she told him that once he was ready she’d take him down to the main lab were Phillips and Katie were talking to Senator Brandt about the plans for the SSR going forward. Keen to understand, he quickly sorted his shirt out.

He followed Peggy into the lab, his ears picking up the conversation as they entered.

“Speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country,” Howard shrugged. “But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works.”

“So much for not needing a head start, huh?” Katie teased and Howard glared at her before he turned back to Phillips.

“We’re not even close to this technology.”

“Then who is?” Senator Brandt demanded.

“HYDRA,” Phillips responded simply. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

“I’m on a number of committees, Colonel,” Brandt replied simply, completely unabashed at Phillips tone.

“HYDRA is the Nazi deep science division.” Katie explained

“It’s led by Johann Schmidt,” Peggy picked up, “but he has much bigger ambitions.”

“HYDRA’s practically a cult,” Phillips stated, “they worship Schmidt, they think he’s invincible.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Brandt asked and at that point Steve took a deep breath, finally he was about to find out what he was going to be doing.

“Spoke to the President this morning. As of today the SSR is being re-tasked.”

Katie and Peggy exchanged excited glances and Peggy looked back at Phillips, seeking clarification as she asked, “Colonel?”

“We are taking the fight to HYDRA,” Phillips looked at the woman. “Pack your bags Agent Carter. You too, Agent Stark,” he turned to Katie, “you’re flying to London tonight.”

Steve hesitated for a second, but when Phillips didn’t turn to speak to him and inform him where he was going, he hurried forward a little.

“Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment,” Phillips shot back. “You’re going to Alamogordo.”

Steve frowned a little, but then pressed some more, he wasn’t letting this go.

“The serum worked,” his voice rose a little.

“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.”

Katie wheeled round to look at Phillips, her face angry, “Oh, come on Sir, that’s-”

“I have put up with your insubordination for long enough. I don’t give a shit what you think, Agent Stark.” Philips snarled, “keep pushing me and so help me God, I will have you taken straight outta this unit and you’ll be back home typing up the Letters of Condolence.”

“But-”

“Enough!” Phillips snapped. “Now I suggest you disappear and pack.”

Katie took a deep breath, an angry noise escaping her throat as she turned and stormed away. Steve watched her go before he opened his mouth to argue some more with Phillips, but the man had already moved away.

They wanted to send him to a fucking research plant? Seriously? This was ridiculous.

“With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point,” Senator Brandt spoke to Steve and he turned to face the man. “I’ve seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country’s seen it.” Brandt turned to his aide. “Paper.” His aide obeyed, showing them the paper in his hand. It was today’s copy of the ‘The New York Examiner’ which bore the headline "Nazis in New York - Mystery Man Saves Child" along with a picture of Steve holding the car door in front of him.

“The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands," Brandt smiled at Steve. “You don’t take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab.” Steve felt a surge of hope flood his system as the Senator continued. “Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”

“Sir, that’s all I want,” Steve replied honestly.

“Then, congratulations,” The Senator held his hand out for Steve to shake. “You just got promoted.”

**** Steve’s hopes were short lived when Brandt explained what he had in mind - using Steve to boost recruitment and bond sales. But he knew he was getting nowhere with Phillips, so he decided to take the role and could only hope that it would lead to something else. Besides, it was important to gather support. The Forces needed all the financial and recruitment help they could get, and he could play a key part in that.

So Brandt said.

“Hey…”

Steve looked up from where he was packing the few items he’d unpacked from his trunk and looked at Katie.

“Oh, hi.” He said, turning back to his packing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she continued and Steve took a deep breath, straightening up.

“Who told you?”

“Good news travel fast, Captain.” She stressed the last word and Steve had to actively stop himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s a pretty good promotion considering you’ve been a soldier all of a week.”

“Yeah, well, it was too good an opportunity to turn down. In fact, it was the only opportunity to turn down.” He watched her as she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, before closing it again. And then Steve really did roll his eyes, “if you’ve got something to say, spit it out, Katie.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me,” she snapped back.

“I’m not being-”

“Yes, you are,” she folded her arms. “It’s not my fault Phillips won’t let you in on this. I’ve tried, believe me, but for whatever reason he’s not moving.”

“He’s not moving because he doesn’t like me.” Steve replied simply.

“Well, that’s his loss," Katie countered. “And what’s with the sudden display of self-pity?”

“What?”

“This, moping around, acting all deflated.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well you’re off, over there. Fighting the fight but me, well, looks like I’m gonna have to play ball with Senators doesn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!” Steve’s voice rose and Katie blinked a little, but besides that she showed no signs of having registered his angry tone. “What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice, Steve.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snorted. “And my choice here is what? Go to the damned White Sands Proving Ground where they can run more tests on me? Keep me locked up like some kind of lab rat?”

“I didn’t say they were always good choices.”

“Well what do you think I should do huh?”

“That’s not for me to say.” Katie shook her head. “But I can tell you one thing....”

“What?”

“That I have faith in you to do what you feel is right, and continue to be the good man I know you are.” Her words were soft but they hit Steve like a freight train and he swallowed, suddenly aware of how down right shitty he’d been. “And if you’re telling me that it feels right that you go where Brandt wants you to go then…” she shrugged.

“I have to try.” Steve replied.

“Well, in that case, I’ll say what I came to say in the first place," she gave him a soft smile, “good luck.”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “Thanks. Look, I’m sorry I snapped. I just, well, truth be told I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, all I ever wanted was to be a soldier and to fight on the front lines. Like my dad did, and Bucky.” He sat down on the side of the bed, “And I agreed to this procedure because I thought it was my ticket there, ya know?”

“I get it,” Katie nodded, crossing the room to sit beside him. “And I understand how frustrated you feel, believe me.” He turned to look at her to see her glancing down at her hands before she looked up at a spot on the wall opposite them. “I just can’t say anything to make it better, other than repeat what I said before. I have absolute faith and belief that you’ll do what you think is right. And that’s all any of us can do.”

Steve looked straight in her eyes as they flickered across both of his and he took a deep breath, her words echoing round his mind. Throughout this, she and Erskine had been the two people who had utterly believed he was the best man for the job so to speak. Now Erskine was gone, and he was about to be separated from her as well. And it pained him to think about it, as he realised that he was going to miss her, for more than the simple reason that she’d been a friend to him.

“You know I’m sorry we met the way we did,” his thoughts blurted out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Katie frowned, “what?”

“No, I err…” Steve sighed and then gave a snort. “Guess the serum didn’t enhance my ability to talk to a dame without completely making a total screw up of it.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Katie smiled, “you do a decent job most of the time.” She paused as Steve gave a little huff of laughter before she turned her body a little more towards him, “what’s on your mind, Soldier?”

“I meant, I’m sorry that we met when we did. And, you know, not sooner.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands, “or maybe even later, when all this is over.”

“If it ever is,” Katie sighed and Steve raised his eyes to hers as she licked her lips a little. “Steve, I’m not sad I met you when I did. Quite the opposite actually. It’s been…” she paused for a moment before she smiled “…a little ray of hope in an otherwise very gloomy world.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “you know, a reminder that no matter how ugly the world seems or how much it changes, it’s still a beautiful place.”

Steve thought on her words for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“What?” She asked as she noted his expression.

“You just remind me of my mom,” he smiled. “She was always a 'look on the bright side' kind of woman. No matter what life threw at us, she was always reminding me there were people far worse off.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She was,” Steve smiled with a short nod. “kind, compassionate. Just more ways you remind me of her.”

He didn’t miss the faint flush on Katie’s cheeks as she looked down at her hands and then raised her eyes to look at him, “I’m honoured.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I meant what I said the other night before we, you know.” He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat felt like a tennis ball. “I like you, more than like you in fact.”

“Kinda sucks we’re about to be separated doesn’t it?” Katie looked at him, her eyes sad and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“But, I’m a firm believer that if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” Katie shrugged and at that Steve gave a scoff. She turned to him, a playful look on her face. “What, you don’t believe in fate?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “you make your own luck.”

“Right.” A little side smile broke on her mouth, “you did a good job with that when you happened to be at the Expo the same time Erskine was.”

“Lucky coincidence.”

“And what was me getting accosted by a load of rapscallions in Brooklyn?”

“A not-so-lucky for you coincidence.” Steve shrugged.

“You know what the definition of the word coincidence is?”

“Not word for word, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Sass bag.” Katie nudged him with her elbow and he chuckled, “but you’re right, I am. It’s a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent casual connection.”

“And?”

“Fate is the development of events outside a person’s control.” Katie looked at him, her eyebrow arched, “just as a coincidence is beyond a person’s control. And if fate is what’s gonna happen to you no matter what you do, and coincidence is merely a matter of being in the right place at the right time, then what if you’re in the right place at the right time because it’s simply meant to be.”

Steve looked at her, utterly sideswiped at her sentiment. Whilst he wasn’t sure he agreed, the logic was surely there and the fact she’d laid it so bare, been so open with him knocked him for six. He saw her eyes flicker to his mouth again, and in a sudden surge of confidence he gently moved, taking her face in his hands and pulling her to meet him in a soft, gentle kiss that was loaded with meaning.

“Yup,” she sniffed a little as she pulled away and Steve was both surprised and horrified to see the tears in her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his, their noses bumping a little, “this definitely sucks.”

“Write to me,” he whispered, his thumbs swiping away her tears and she smiled, nodding, before she caught his lips again, this time the kiss was deeper, and Steve had to fight back the groan that was bubbling in his throat as he felt her tongue slide against his. They were interrupted by a loud noise outside and Katie pulled away, dropping her gaze a little before she sighed and stood up.

“Stay safe, Soldier,” she smiled, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “I’d hate for you to come back horrifically disfigured.”

At that Steve snorted, “would it put you off?” He teased, “I didn’t think you were that shallow.”

“I’m not,” she smiled as she made her way to the door. “It’d just be a helluva waste, a face like that.”

With that she was gone and Steve felt his smile fade, the warmth in his chest replaced by a hollow feeling which engulfed his entire body, as the realisation spread across him that he had no idea when he would see her again.

If indeed, at all.

****

November 1943.

“I already volunteered, how do you think I got here?”

“Nice boots, Tinkerbell…”

“Hey, Captain! Sign this”

The heckling from the assembled crowd rang through Steve’s mind as he sat dejectedly on the side of the stage, the miserable, cold rain matching his mood. His hand moved absentmindedly, shading in the drawing he’d sketched in his book. A very apt sketch of a Circus Monkey on a Unicycle clutching the damned shield he’d been given as part of his costume. It turns out the “battlefield” that Senator Brandt had been referring to was nothing more than a grotesque road show across the US and various other places on the Allied Map encouraging people to buy war bonds.

“The Senator's got a lot of pull up on the hill. You play ball with us, you’ll be leading your own platoon in no time.”

Yeah, a "platoon" of chorus girls and confetti cannons, complete with ‘Adolph’ himself. Steve had knocked him out countless times, and was still no closer to getting in on the real action.

He’d travelled all over the place during the last four months, the tour had been successful, and there was no denying that it was helping the effort in a way. “Bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazi’s bing bang boom.” But this wasn’t what he had signed up for. Nor did he believe for one second that this was what Dr. Erskine had in mind for how his serum would be put into use.

He’d made a few propaganda films, all part of the course according to Brandt who had then had the bright idea to send Captain America on the USO tour, to attempt to lift spirits. So here he was in Italy, five miles from the front line, having finally made it overseas as a soldier, only to be stood on a stage in front of the men he should have been fighting alongside, being pelted by rotten fruit and vegetables instead of bullets.

It didn’t help that he knew the SSR were fast ramping up their efforts on HYDRA, having been reassigned to somewhere in mainland Europe, not unlike himself at that point in time. He’d had a few letters from Katie, but he had no idea where she was. She didn’t go into details, which was to be expected, she couldn’t and her mail always reached him through the usual military channels. He’d tried to remain positive in his letters back to her, focussing on nights where had a particularly good show, meeting and greeting his ‘fans’ afterwards, carefully omitting details about the women that now seemed to be throwing themselves at him. Be it in bars, back stage or simply as he emerged from the venues; there was no shortage of ladies vying for his attention. And had he been that way inclined, he could have taken any number of them dancing and then back to wherever he was staying that night, but the fact was he didn’t want to.

Because no matter how pretty or forthcoming the girls were, his mind and heart remained with a certain green eyed agent.

It was ironic, when he thought about it. The Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the song dubbed him, yet Steve felt as if he had never had less of a plan in his life.

“Hello, Steve," a familiar voice spoke in his ear and Steve jerked his head up in surprise and turned, doing a little double take as he looked up at Katie.

“Hi,” he instantly felt his heart rate pick up dramatically in her presence, like it normally did as his eyes laid upon her. She was dressed in standard Army green wool pants that were tailored for a man with wide legs and long length that she tucked in to her well-worn mid-calf boots which were brown leather with lace protection straps and looked as if they had happily trudged through mud and been beaten until they broke in and needed new soles. Her unit issued jacket was the same colour green as her pants, but the harsh canvas material gave a weighted appearance across her shoulders as it was buttoned and zipped it up. Beneath it, she wore her wool tie and collared shirt, no doubt tucked into her trousers for a crisp clean look.

Steve noted how it was a stark (pun intended) difference to the previous smart pencil skirt and jacketed uniform he had seen her in at the SSR base which Peggy, who stood to her left, was still sporting. But then again, the two women were very different, and knowing Katie as he did, she wasn't one to conform and who knew what she had been up to whilst on the front line.

All it did was serve to make Steve feel even more self-conscious and ridiculous in his own outfit, designed for dancing and prancing around not active combat.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, his eyes flicking to Peggy before they returned to Katie again.

“Officially we’re not here at all,” Peggy smiled. “That was quite a performance.”

Great, they’d seen it. His shoulders slumped at little as he turned away.

“Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I’m used to are usually more uh, twelve.”

“Probably less full of jerks as well,” Katie snorted and Steve looked at her, his mouth curling into a slight smile as Peggy let out a sigh.

“You know what soldiers are like. Present company excepted of course,” Peggy quickly corrected herself as Steve had cocked any eyebrow at her sweeping assumption, before she turned to the other agent. “I warned you-“

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Katie replied with a roll of her eyes.

Peggy took a deep breath, before she turned back to Steve, swiftly changing the subject. “I understand you’re "America’s New Hope"?

“Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit,” Steve chanted off, the words flowing out of him the same way they did whenever he spoke to someone about the Roadshow and he grimaced as he realised just what a damned puppet he had become.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” Katie teased and Steve took a deep breath.

“At least he’s got me doin’ this,” Steve felt a sudden need to defend his decision to take the role in the first place, especially after their conversation before he had left. “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options?” Peggy looked at him, nodding to his sketch book which was still open in his lap. “A lab rat or a dancing monkey?”

“You were meant for more than this, you know?” Katie added gently, and Steve looked at her, hesitating as his sarcastic reply died in his throat. Instead he looked away, a little dejected. She was right, he had been meant for more that was the whole point of him taking the serum. But even after he’d been turned into this Super Soldier, been given such power and capability, he still wasn’t enough.

“What?” Katie pressed gently, having noticed his hesitation.

“You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

Before either of the women could respond there was the sound of a horn honking which diverted their attention. Steve turned to watch as an ambulance pulled to a halt outside the medical tent. The back doors were flung open and several injured soldiers were pulled out of the back on stretches, nurses and medical staff rushing to help as they disappeared through the drapes of the tents, the walking wounded being helped down and aided as they limped behind.

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve commented, a deep feeling of sadness at the sight of the injured men flooded his chest.

“These men more than most,” Peggy commented and Steve turned to look at her, a little confused as to what she meant.

“Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano,” Katie explained. “Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh. The rest were killed or captured.”

Steve felt his chest tighten, as if someone had trapped it in a vice and his head momentarily span as the meaning of her words sank in.

“The one-oh-seventh?” He breathed out, begging it to be wrong. But Katie simply frowned as she gave a nod.

“What?”

Steve swallowed and looked around before he rose to his feet. “That was Bucky’s unit.” He turned to face her, his voice sounded alien as he almost choked on his words. Katie’s face slid into a look of recognition, her mouth falling open.

“Barnes?” She asked and Steve nodded, as he ran a hand down his face, once more glancing round desperately hoping for Bucky to appear and rip into him for his ridiculous outfit. But he knew that if Bucky had been in that audience, he would have already found him. Which meant that he was either amongst the injured soldiers in the tent or…

“Who’s Barnes?” Peggy asked form behind him.

“Steve’s friend from home,” Katie replied gently as Steve turned back to look at the women.

“I need to check if he’s there,” Steve nodded towards the medical tent.

“Not a good idea,” Peggy cut him off. “You saw their reaction to you before. If you go waltzing in you’re going to upset them.”

“I don’t really care,” Steve spluttered

“Well you should,” Peggy looked at him sternly.

“I have to know if he survived!”

“Okay, look…” Katie took a deep breath, and he tore his eyes away from Peggy who was still glaring at him to look instead at the other woman. “Phillips will have the list of the-“ she hesitated, clearly searching for the best word “-casualties. We can ask him.”

“Phillips is here too?” Steve frowned, although he wasn’t sure why that had surprised him. Decision made, he turned and started running across the camp shooting a, “come on,” over his shoulder as the heavy rain pelted down onto them all.

He busted into the tent, “Colonel Phillips,” and the man looked up, a disgruntled expression spread across his face before he took a deep breath and looked back down at the papers on his desk as Steve strode purposefully towards him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man with a plan, and what is your plan today?” Phillip’s voice was laced with sarcasm but Steve didn’t care. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and that was Bucky.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.” Phillips snapped, looking up at him once more and Steve ignored his angry tone, his stubbornness showing through as he continued to pres.

“I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

“You two and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips pointed to both Agent Carter and Katie in turn.

“Can’t wait," Katie sassed back and Phillips’ head shot up to look at her as he once more fixed her with a stare that could freeze over hell, but Steve didn’t have time for this.

“Please tell me if he’s alive, Sir. B-A-R…”

“I can spell,” the Colonel stated harshly as he tore his eyes from Katie. He looked at the papers in his hand and with a sigh dropped them to his desk and when he spoke his voice was a little softer. "I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry."

Steve swallowed, a feeling of cold washing over his body as the Colonel's words sank in. It might sound familiar but there was a chance it could be another Barnes. It was a common name, after all, and even if it was Bucky’s name on the letter, he could be missing assumed dead, not actually confirmed dead. Peggy and Katie had told him before that there were still men from the unit trapped behind lines.

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he’d really had time to consider them properly.

“Yeah! It’s called winning the war.”

Steve frowned, “but if you know where they are, why not at least…?"

Colonel Phillips stood up, the expression on his face belonged to a man who had just lost his final bit of patience. "They're thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save." He moved around the desk to stand in front of Steve, his hands falling to his hips as fixed him with a stern and challenging glare. "But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl."

Steve took a breath, the anger coursing inside him at the dig that Phillips had just made, but before he could say anything, he heard Katie scoff besides him.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Phillips turned to Katie, his face contorted in anger “You are this close…” he held his thumb and forefinger up a fraction of an inch apart.

Katie’s jaw clenched and her chin tipped up defiantly as she glared back at the man. Steve, having had chance to compose himself slightly now the spoke in an attempt to draw the attention back away from her and onto himself.

“I think I understand just fine.”

“Well then understand it somewhere else.” Phillips turned away. “If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes”

As he spoke the last words, Steve took note of the map which lay on the table and he noticed a flag marked with an H which caught his attention. And then, he made his decision.

The Star Spangled Man finally had a plan.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

***** Chapter 5

#Stark Spangled Rebirth #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america #CATFA 10th anniversary challenge #mcu #mcu fanfic #fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

81 notes · View notes

whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

Ashes Chapter 12: Delusion

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

...oops.

A/N: thanks for reading <3 If you want to be tagged when I update this story, let me know.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Seated cross-legged on the bed, you meditated. You tried to contact Raiden several times. Usually, it was easy. You just had to call for him and he came. But today he ignored you. You gave up after an hour.

Fine. Be that way.

Flopping back on the bed, you stared at the ceiling.

What did he want from you? Why was he making you stay there? Why had he made Liu come with you? You weren’t needed here. As much as you were enjoying the company of Cole and Johnny and getting to know the others, you weren’t serving any purpose or function other than to torture yourself. And Liu. You were definitely torturing Liu, too.

He was torturing you too, to be fair. You weren’t the only one guilty. It was easy for you to take all your mixed-up thoughts and turn yourself into a villain. You had to remind yourself that Liu had done his fair share of damage over the last week too.

What motives was Raiden hiding from you?

Did he know that you would have visions there? He always seemed to be there when you needed him but right now, he was nowhere to be found. Did that mean you shouldn’t worry about the things you’d seen?

Maybe Raiden knew about you and Liu, and this was his screwed-up way of trying to help you figure things out. Forcing you to hash out your differences and find resolution one way or another. But then why send you to Hollywood? Why not zap you somewhere alone so you wouldn’t get anyone else involved? Something didn’t add up.

It wasn’t like you could ask him.

He didn’t want you to ask him. You came to terms with that even if you didn’t want to.

What did any of it mean? The visions? Kung Lao?

Despite your racing thoughts, you kept coming back to the gentle way that Liu Kang’s lips had found yours the night before. A forbidden thought that your brain kept crawling back to. And Cole knew about it. He knew. Apparently, you were obvious as hell.

Knocking at the door distracted you. Thank god.

You peered through the peephole and considered ignoring it.

Liu Kang.

As if he’d known what you’d been thinking.

Either that or your day hadn’t been awkward enough, so he wanted to fill that quota. Maybe he needed someone to argue with. He kept saying that you needed to talk but you felt like that was all that you had done for the past week. Talk and yell. Yet things were more confusing than they’d ever been. You didn’t think talking held any resolution anymore.

Things between you were messy and that was just how it was going to be.

He knocked again and so you unlocked and opened the door but just a crack. He smiled but it looked to you like he hadn’t been getting much sleep. His mind was probably just as busy as yours was.

“Hey.” He sounded harmless enough, but you stood guard beyond the crack in the door.

“What do you need, Liu?” Defensive. You were on alert. It was immediately awkward since you didn’t invite him in or sound happy to see him.

“I’m checking on you. If that’s okay.” He readjusted his footing but did not seem nervous which surprised you. “You were gray. You’re still a little gray.”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I wanted to, Y/N.” His voice was soft and familiar, not like the harsh tone he’d had over the last week. Something had changed in Liu Kang. He’d come to terms with something or found calm. You didn’t know but it was nice to hear him sounding like himself. “Is it okay for me to come in?”

“That’s a bad idea.” You winced.

“I know. Yet… I’m asking to.” He tapped on the back of the door, and you retreated more defensively behind it. His smile was kind and serene. Charming, even. His eyes were still dark and held worlds of grief within them, but he seemed more at peace than you’d seen him in ages. “Please, Y/N.”

You couldn’t avoid him forever. Avoiding him wasn’t fixing anything just like talking wasn’t. Against your better judgment you opened the door the rest of the way. Your judgment couldn’t be trusted anymore, anyway.

Whatever.

Liu followed you into the small hotel room and closed the door quietly behind him. You folded your arms over your chest and leaned your back against the wall nearby. Just because you’d let him in didn’t mean you were going to let down your guard.

“You can relax, Y/N. I’m not here to fight with you.” Liu Kang sensed your discomfort. That didn’t help you.

“Then why are you here?”

“I meant what I said. To check on you. You’ve been out of sorts.” Liu Kang stepped in your eyeline, looking as awkward as you felt. “Should I send you back to China?” You rolled your eyes at him, eliciting a quiet laugh from him.

“First of all, Liu, you don’t have the authority to send me anywhere. Secondly? I already tried.” You pouted and slumped your shoulders. Joking helped cut the tension a little. Not much, but it was better than nothing.

“Did you?”

“Not because I’m not well but think about it… why are we here?” You gestured toward the window. Nothing about your trip to Hollywood made sense. Unless you were meant to see something here. You supposed that was better than every other reason you’d conjured. Nightwolf had made sense. Hollywood? Didn’t. It was almost like punishment.

“Well, we’re here to…”

“Oh, shush. We’re not here to convince Johnny Cage to come with us to China. He’s already decided to come with us. He’s scared but he’s coming. We barely had to do anything to convince him. He was already curious enough. I know he hasn’t said as much but I guarantee you that by tomorrow he’ll have agreed. There’s no reason for so many of us to be here and you know that as well as I do.”

“You’re right. I’ve been wondering the same thing. I trust that Raiden knows what he’s doing but it all feels… off.” He pushed his messy hair back.

“I trust him too.” You said begrudgingly. Liu laughed again and it was a satisfying and sweet sound, one that used to bring you joy. He pulled the chair from the little desk close to the bed and sat down. Silence fell again. He was watching you curiously as if waiting for you to turn gray and faint. You didn’t do that anymore. You’d grown past that. Today you were overtired. That was all. “I… have been wondering if Raiden knows about… you know. Our baggage. He doesn’t, does he?” You curled your lip in disgust. You were so painfully obvious. No wonder Kung Lao had never liked you being alone with him. Liu Kang had been a perfect gentleman until recently though.

“I don’t know.” Liu rested his hands carefully on his knees. “I never bought it up but who knows what he actually knows.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” You hated the idea that Raiden would send you somewhere to sort out your crap.

“We should talk.” He averted his eyes. There was so much weight in those words.

“About what, Liu?” You snapped but then took a deep breath to calm down. He gestured toward you as if that were enough of a starting point. “That’s not specific enough.”

“Still.”

“Fine. Let’s talk.” You were going to fight. Mostly because you were already antagonistic. You took an imposing step toward him that made him straighten his posture. You were tired of those words. You were tired of having to talk. You were tired of it hanging over your head. If he wanted to talk then, oh, you would talk. The imaginary kettle in your head was at full boil. “Where should we start, hmm?”

“I…”

You didn’t let him get far.

“How about… Let’s see. How about how Kung Lao dying broke us?”

His expression fell.

“Oh! Or how about how you lying to me years ago was unfair to us both and quite honestly, unfair to Kung Lao too. Or we could talk about how you lied because you were always second place to the Great Kung Lao. Your needs just weren’t as important, Liu. Obviously.”

“Y/N, that’s unfair.”

“Or how about me messing up the wonderful thing that I had with Kung Lao over petty worries? Or maybe… maybe the biggest thing hanging over our heads, Liu. How I got so wasted that I slept with you and have become such a professional at hiding that I’ve been drinking to get to sleep since Kung Lao died, so much so, that we had a wild night together and you thought it was something other than me being annihilated.” You weren’t sure where your bravery had come from but, boy, that had come out of you without so much as a stutter.

“Y/N, that’s…” His brow was knit in a straight line as if you had given him more to think about than he had expected. He placed his palms together and then rested the tips of his fingers against his chin as if it took all his effort not to snap. “You’re being cruel.” His voice was softer than you’d expected. It would have been easier if he’d just yelled at you. Maybe that was why you had snapped. To make it easier.

“I’m a tornado right now, Liu. A destructive force of nature.” You leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh, exhausted. “I’m sorry. That’s all I can. I’m sorry because I assumed that you had been just as drunk as I was. I just… jumped right to that conclusion like an asshole. I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.” Liu stood and picked up your hand nervously, and his touch sent shocks through you. You fought the chills.

“Stop. Y/N, please.” He furrowed his brow and all you saw was worry, which you hated. Be mad, damnit. “Stop that. Don’t beat yourself up like that.” Liu’s frown was one you’d seen far too often these past months. “I knew that you’d been drinking. I’d been drinking too. I didn’t think that you were blackout drunk. Not until I talked to you the next day.” He was trying to take half the blame, like he’d taken advantage of you or something. You were more than certain that you’d been a willing participant.

“None of that changes what happened, does it?” You tugged your wrist away from his grip and stepped away from the wall to get some space. Being close to him was dangerous and you were feeling particularly volatile. “So, tell me which one of these awful things that you want to talk about. Pick your poison. No matter which one it is, it’s going to be a fight. A fight that we both lose. There’s no winning this, Liu. I don’t know what you expect to gain from talking.”

“Y/N, look at me.” He grasped your arm again and you shoved his hand away. “I’m serious, Y/N! Look at me.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him. You smacked his hand away from your face but didn’t turn your gaze. “If you don’t think that we can talk about any of those things civilly then let’s at least talk about… this.” He gestured between the two of you. “This thing that we’re holding back. That you’ve become so tense over. Do you think we can do that?”

“Why? To what end, Liu? Because what’s that conversation without all the others? Do you think that something can work out without all that other nonsense getting sucked in? Are you so caught up in the idea of what you potentially could have had that you’ve become naïve? The Liu Kang I knew wasn’t naïve.”

“So, we don’t get a shot because you…”

“A shot at what, Liu?” You yelled and his eyes went wide. “And why? Why, Liu? I’m a mess. A walking disaster. You’re a mess too. All we do is butt heads! I’m in no shape to even consider thinking about it and you… you keep saying you want to talk, that we need to talk but you don’t really know what to say, do you? That’s why we don’t. We yell or kiss or…” You gestured to him in frustration.

“Maybe this is why we don’t talk.” Ah, good, you’d finally irritated him. There was that snippy Liu that you’d been fighting with for days. It didn’t last. He shook it off and his anger melted into sadness. That was worse. “Maybe I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”

“You don’t talk because of rejection? Or a reaction? Seriously? Of all the things you could be afraid of, Liu, that? Do you have any idea what you put me through back then? The kind of rejection that I felt? The self-loathing?” You had snapped, it turned out. The angry words were just pouring out of you. “Do you have any idea what scares me, Liu? While you’re off being afraid of rejection?”

Concern was dripping from Liu, much more than when he’d first come in worried about your health. You wondered if this was what you had looked like when he’d been losing his shit over the last week. Terrified and worried.

“That I can’t fix it.” Some of your anger deflated. “I can’t fix any of it. Kung Lao’s gone. I’ve destroyed my relationship with you and now I’m having these stupid visions. I can’t… fix anything anymore. This is my life now, Liu. I can’t fix anything or do anything right. I used to fix things. I used to help people. We used to be friends.”

Silence followed. Liu turned away, seemingly thinking it over.

“You’re full of it.” He decided, turning back to you. You looked to him, confused. No, that was definitely part of it. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Okay. That’s fair. You scare me. That’s the other part of it.” You suddenly found the ugly pattern on the carpet very interesting. Liu was so level-headed; it was like you’d swapped roles. “This scares me.”

“Why?”

Really? You shook your head at him in disbelief. Did he not see all the reasons for that staring him in the face? You’d said more than enough on the matter. The stress of the day was all you could handle.

“I’m done talking, Liu. I’ve done nothing but talk. Too much probably.” You gestured to the door.

“Y/N…”

“Liu, you should go. I’m not in the right headspace for this. I’m going to say things I regret saying. I already have. Please, just… go.”

Liu approached you cautiously, like you were a wild animal and that was probably the right approach. You felt like you could jump out of your skin at any moment. He was not going to leave. You knew that already.

“You’re right.”

“Too vague. Be more specific.”

“I’m not used to you being this angry. But you’re right about a lot of things. When I met Kung Lao, I had nothing. I was just an orphan. Raiden gave me family in Kung Lao. I revered him. So much so that when he asked me for something that was precious to me… I gave it to him.” His voice was soft and cautious, but serious. It sent a chill right through you. “I regret that, Y/N, but I also don’t regret it. Kung Lao loved you and you loved him. But I shouldn’t have done what I did the way that I did. Not because of what it implies for my value of self but because you were not a thing to be given away. Not by me. I should have given you the choice. I should have been honest. You deserved the opportunity to choose, and I stole that from you. I understand that you can’t possibly know what you would have done given that chance. It was unfair of me to ask. We aren’t those people anymore.”

You took a cautious step away from him as he drew closer but there wasn’t anywhere to go. The hotel room was small and cramped as it was. You’d bumped your knees on furniture ten times that day alone.

“But if you are going to say that you’re a disaster then I must be one too.”

“I said tornado.” Sarcasm, your very last defense.

“I want to take responsibility for my choices, Y/N. From back then and now. I made the choice to take you to bed that night. I made the first move. Not you. I knew that you were drunk. I didn’t know how drunk, but I instigated it. And I don’t regret it. I regret that you don’t remember but I remember. And I don’t regret it.” His voice was low, intimate, and you stiffened up uncomfortably. You hated that just his voice could make you shiver. All you remembered was how it had felt to wake up next to him, terrified. “Then I woke up alone. I made the choice to react with anger. I regret that but I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Liu, you don’t have to explain.” Your voice was barely a whisper. That was all you could muster and even that gave you shivers again.

“Let me finish, Y/N.” He was close enough that you could feel his breath, the air palpable with tension. Your hands tingled with anxiety.

“I made the choice to push you the next few days. I made the choice to hurt you because you hurt me. You’re not the only one at fault. It took both of us to make this mess. If you’re going to call yourself out then you’ve got to call me out, too.”

“I can do that.” Your voice was fragile, but you were surprised you could find words at all. Liu leaned closer to hear you properly. “You were a douche.” He laughed, hand rested against the wall next to your head now. You could feel the warmth of his arm radiating from him. “But I did, in fact, climb into your bed when it was convenient for me. Your words, remember?”

“Yeah, rough words.” He inhaled sharply.

Silence. You were afraid to talk. You were too close, and his lips were so easily reached.

“You should go.” You finally managed. He tilted his head curiously and you saw that playful smile that killed you on his lips.

“Make me.”

“Liu, you shouldn’t push me right now.”

“Sometimes we need to be pushed.”

“We talked. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? It went terribly. I feel worse about this than I did before we talked. I don’t understand what you want.” You were feeling particularly brave but that melted with one serious look into his eyes. Those were eyes you recognized. Eyes from yesterday. Eyes from years ago. You would bicker back then over something silly. Sometimes you swore just to build the tension. He would grab you, hands still delicate but forceful. He’d kiss you, you’d kiss him back and then before you knew it, you were naked. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He grasped your hand and you tried to pull it back but there was nowhere for you to pull back to. Panic. This was far too familiar. The memories you had together weren’t fond memories. He’d hurt you and those memories had become painful. They were trauma now. But you couldn’t ignore the tension that built up either. It was difficult to breathe, difficult to think. Liu pulled you away from the wall with surprising tenderness, one hand clasped on your shoulder.

“Don’t close yourself off, Y/N.” He pulled you closer. One move and his lips would meet yours, kissing or not. You didn’t fight him. You couldn’t fight him. You were mercilessly lost in a haze, lost in his overwhelming and comforting touch. His hand slid from your fingers and around your wrist, every touch of his fingertips leaving a blazing trail in their wake.

He kissed you, barely having to move for his lips to find yours. The curves his lips met yours in such a perfect way, it was like two puzzle pieces that were meant to be. Everything was still and silent. He urged your hand to his chest and you could feel his heart beneath it beating in time with yours. Your ears were ringing.

Without a thought, you returned the kiss, at a mercy to your baser instincts. Bowing to the part of you that missed being held, missed being kissed, and the part of you that was so attracted to Liu Kang that you struggled to be in the same room for long periods of time.

The floodgates were broken.

His arm slipped around you, and you briefly tried to escape but your movements only moved you from the wall and made your body press against his. His arms were strong, holding you tightly, afraid of losing you. The tension had made your room so hot that you were sweating. Hand flat on your back, he pulled your body close, your chest pressed against his, back arched so that your stomachs touched. The heat of him against you was killing you. It was difficult to breathe.

With a deep groan that made your stomach tighten up, Liu led you to the side. You stumbled but grasped at his shirt, widening your mouth into the kiss. You bumped into the nightstand so hard that the alarm clock fell to the floor.

Biting his lip, you cursed at the sudden sharp pain in the back of your leg. “Son of a…” You muttered. Liu sucked on his lower lip. You could taste his blood on your lips, metallic but oddly exciting. You were hot all over. Liu brushed his hand over the back of your leg and checked to make sure you were okay.

“You…”

He was going to ask you if you were, but instead he caught your gaze and then his eyes trailed over your face, as if taking you in, and lingered on your lips. The throbbing in your leg was forgotten as he kissed you again, thumb on your chin, lips slowly taking yours in, as if worshipping the feel of them against his. Your heart was in your throat, pounding away. You didn’t feel worthy of this tenderness his lips had for you. The way that your lips met and moved as if they knew what the other would do next.

But tenderness was a rare and brief thing turned hot and violent.

Liu shoved you against the wall next to the nightstand and, hands at your thighs, lifted you against it. He urged your legs around his middle, hands grasping at your jeans. You tangled your fingers in his hair, something you had always done in the throes of passion. The familiarity of the action, of his body, was overwhelming.

“Liu,” you muttered against his lips to try and get him to stop but instead it sounded like a cry of passion. Deep down you knew you had to stop. This was not the solution. It would only make things harder. There would be anger, frustration, hurt. This would be your next big disaster. You wouldn’t have any excuses. At least before you had the liquor to hide behind. He was right. You were a mess. Both of you.

Your self-control had gone completely out the window.

He grasped the back of your neck and pulled barely from your lips. His breath was shuddering, you could feel the warmth of it, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against yours. It was stifling. He was giving you a chance to stop him. He wasn’t in control either. You were victim to each other.

His eyes were dark and brimming with conflict. “Y/N.” You both knew this wasn’t the right thing to do. You wanted to say something. Anything. But his lips were so tantalizingly close. His eyes took you in like you were something rare and forbidden. You were failing. Finally, you found words but as you made to speak your lips brushed just against his, upper lip snagging on the small wound your teeth had made only moments ago. It made you weak.

You kissed him. A slow, dangerous, and passionate thing. You were nearly choking on how good it felt to be kissed, to be held. Betraying you, your hands were at his shirt, brushing over the lining of it, to where it folded together. He was covered in soot from earlier. He smelled of sulfur, his lips even tasted like fire. The red sash tied around his middle draped between your legs and you tugged on it. While it happened very quickly, it also felt like it was happening in slow motion. You untied the knot of the sash and dropped it to the floor.

Hand slipping from your cheek, he let your weight rest against the wall while he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him, lips only leaving yours for brief seconds. He pressed against you harder, kissing you deeper, feverishly. You invited his tongue, delighting in the feeling of it as he took that invitation. Your lips were swollen from kissing, it was almost painful. Almost.

Gasping for breath, he urged his lips against your neck, greedily kissing your skin and urging you to tilt your head back to offer him more flesh to kiss. He left playful nibbles on your collarbone and a soft coo of delight escaped your lips. Your fingers pressed into his skin, over his bare shoulders, down the little bit of his chest you could reach with him pressed so hard against you. Instead, your fingers ran down his back and as he suckled the skin of your neck, you grasped him tighter to you.

His breath was hot against your chest as he kissed down to the lining of your top, leaving a wet trail of desire in your cleavage.

“Liu…” You had a brief moment of clarity with his lips so close to your breasts. You had spoken so sharply that he had pulled back in alarm. He searched your eyes and rested his hand against your cheek. Instead of speaking, he kissed you again, leaning you against the wall, pressing his chest back to yours, hips pinning yours in place. You grasped at his back tighter, feeling the marks that you’d left on his skin during your night together just below your fingertips. It was where you had instinctually grabbed and exactly what you had to have done in the throes of pleasure. Oh, the things he must have done to you to make you claw him deep enough to mark him up like that.

Resting one hand against the wall, he focused on your lips, his other hand brushing over your thigh and grasping it tightly to reposition you against him. A soft moan came from deep within you and you grasped him tighter. He arched his back into your touch and as he pulled away from the wall, you tightened your legs around him. His hand grasped your backside and he guided you blindly toward the bed.

Much to your surprise, he pulled your legs away and dropped you on the mattress. Pushing back your hair, he urged you to lean back on your elbows and crawled over you. That image of him climbing over you had been enough to make you squirm. Hovering over you, he took your breath away. His lips were on yours again, and he pushed his weight on top of you. You were sunken into the too soft mattress, his hands greedily moving down your sides to find the bottom of your shirt. His fingers left hot blazing trails of fire against your stomach.

This had to stop.

You panicked and broke the kiss, but you could barely breathe with the thick air around him. “Liu!” You were reaching a point of no return. If you let it go on any longer then there was no stopping it and while you wanted it, you knew it was the wrong thing to do. This had not been talking. This was not solving anything. Worse than that, you wanted it so badly. You wanted it desperately. You wanted him to fuck you until you couldn’t think anymore. Sex with Liu would be a wonderful, blissful, but temporary fix.

His lips moved down your neck as you escaped, and you placed your hand over his mouth to stop him. His hands were on the sides of your bra, pulling your shirt up. “Liu, stop.” He did just as you asked him to, lips lingering against the side of your neck, breath making you shiver. He caught your eyes and then closed his tight. You were sure that look had said more than enough.

Liu pulled his hands from beneath your shirt and sat up. He looked down at you, chest rising and falling rapidly, taking you in, eyes devouring you greedily. Then he climbed off the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Frustration radiated from him.

Your shirt was pushed up over your breasts, and you fixed it with one hand before closing your eyes and rubbing your temples. You had been completely sober and were now half naked. This had not been progress no matter how good it had felt.

“This won’t fix anything.” You sat up, trying to catch your breath but it was shaky and difficult. Your eyes were set on the marks on his back. Marks that you would love to leave again.

“And avoiding it will?” Liu scoffed. “Don’t pretend it’s only me.” He stepped closer again. It was not just him. You wouldn’t pretend that it was either.

“I’m not, Liu. But… I…” It was complicated and the guilt now that your head was clearing was immense. “Kung Lao…”

“Kung Lao is dead, Y/N.” He said that with such finality that you lost your breath. “I don’t want it to be true, but it is.”

You turned away and found your bag on the floor near the dresser. The jade ring was tangled into it and all at once you were overwrought with grief. It hurt. Tears blurred your vision and you forced them back. Liu sat next to you and slipped his arms around you. You fought to get out of them, but he held you tighter.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He didn’t push you further, he just held you. You buried your face against his shoulder. The mood had shifted. Still tense but also miserable. He held you against him comfortingly and his breathing relaxed back to normal. You were trying not to break down, not to cry, not to sob against him. You had too much makeup on from earlier to sob, damnit. “It’s okay.” He repeated soothingly.

“No, it’s not.” You wiped your eyes, picking your head up from his shoulder. “Nothing is okay, Liu.”

“I know that. But it will be.” He reassured you. You trembled and he held you tighter. “You’re shaking, Y/N.”

“I’m okay. Just…” You struggled to get the words out and took deep breaths to calm down. That had been overstimulation at its finest.

“You’re gray.” That worry was back.

“I didn’t sleep last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. I just need to sleep.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I want to go home, Liu.”

“We can’t.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, then he smiled knowingly. “We still have to talk.” You laughed in disbelief, practically choking on your spit. “Don’t laugh. You dismissed so much of what we’re dealing with, Y/N. None of it is so simple as a few angry words.”

“Can we just pretend? Just for today?” You managed to take a deep breath and that helped immensely. “Pretend we don’t have to talk. That we aren’t… such a mess? I’m…”

“I get it.” Liu looked down to where his shirt was on the floor. “Does that mean I have to leave?”

“How could you possibly want to stay?”

“I told you that I missed you. I meant that.”

“Okay. You can stay… but we have to promise to keep our clothes on.”

“Tough bargain, but I think we can manage.” He joked and it was a wonderful thing to hear. He let go of you to pick up his shirt and get dressed. Thank god. He was too perfect to look at, too easy to admire, and admiration didn’t seem to be where you stopped anymore. You busied yourself by fixing the nightstand. You’d knocked over the lamp and the alarm clock was still on the floor. Then you straightened your shirt a second time and tried to fix your hair to keep it from looking like you’d been doing exactly what you’d been doing.

You sat on the bed and turned on the television, searching for something to put on to distract your racing thoughts.

Nothing had been resolved.

You were okay with that for now.

Maybe there wasn’t really any resolution. No magical cure to any of it. Maybe there was just fighting until you came to terms with your truth. Liu sat next to you, and you watched television in comfortable silence. He picked up your hand and checked your pulse from time to time and you rolled your eyes at him each time. Some things never changed. Liu Kang had always worried about you.

Through the afternoon you talked about nothing and everything except for the things you knew you needed to talk about. You reminisced, you joked, you shared stories. It was nice even if what you had almost done still hung in the air.

Eventually, you drifted to sleep next to him, exhausted.

Next Chapter >>

29 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

Text

Title: Crown For Two {4}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes, Slow Burn, Dialogue Heavy, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 6.6k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride continues. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a reminder, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Picture Heavy***

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} |

-Five Days Later-

-Henry-

“Before we get to cut this ribbon, I want to say something. My father—your king.”

He paused, swallowed, and bowed his head slightly, trying to gather his thoughts and reign in his emotions. This was one of the first times he’d spoken about his father since his death, especially in front of the entire country. This unveiling was televised all around Brexendor and probably in neighboring sister countries, which meant he was probably speaking in front of over four million people. Clearing his throat, he tried to continue.

“Eh-em, my father, and your king loved this project. He spent so many nights coming through every detail of it. He particularly wanted to be hands-on with this because he felt this endeavor would bring many people together.”

He looked from face to face in the crowd, making eye contact and giving reassuring smiles—a tactic he’d learned long ago that made speeches more effective.

“He believed though we are individual countries filled with many different races, ethnicities, beliefs, and cultures, he believed we are all one people. He believed that one of the most universal things was connection.”

The crowd murmured their agreement as several heads nodded. He felt the hand of his mother on his shoulder, gently reassuring him and giving him some of her strength.

“As humans, we all crave connection. We all want to make connections in our lives that are worthwhile. That is what this endeavor is, a bridge for our connection across the world beginning with our finances, and he would be so incredibly proud to see it today.”

The crowd before him erupted with applause, giving him a reprieve to bring himself back to his stoic image. He waited for them to quiet down before he continued.

“Without further ado.”

He walked over to the shimmering blue ribbon that was aesthetically tied in front of the bank's doors. Once before them, one of the men handed him giant scissors, and he got into place. The crowd counted down from three. Each second that passed, he could sense the excitement increasing. Once “one” was yelled, he cut the ribbon signaling the crowd to explode with applause and cheers. The camera snapped pictures of him from every angle as he shook hands, waved, and posed with everyone on the bank’s council and the finance commission’s office.

The next hour was spent walking through the location, explaining all the details that his father had put so much time, thought, and energy into. As he pointed things out, he remembered the various conversations they had together about the items and specifications. This was a project just as close to his heart as it was to his father’s. from the corner of his eye, he saw his mother standing in front of the giant grandfather style clock that his father had chosen special. He loved clocks and had collected quite a few in his years. She placed her hand on it, then dipped her head down. He knew her pain.

The following few hours passed with him answering questions and doing his duties as head of the country, never breaking away from the status quo. He could do this in his sleep. That was how well trained he was for this. In a matter of weeks, his duties would be tripled or even quadrupled when he went through his coronation. At that time, he’d really put all that grooming to use. It was an event he’d imagined differently his whole life. For one, he’d always expected to look out to his mother and father’s faces as they’d passed the duties on to him. This future was one he was not prepared for.

“Mother.”

She hummed and spun her head to him with a solemn smile on her lips.

“Are you well?”

She smiled brightly, and any evidence of her previous sadness was only visible in her pale blue eyes, but just a smidge.

“Of course, I am. What about you, my darling boy?”

He smiled. She’d been calling him that since he was, in fact, just a boy.

“Glad to have gotten through that.”

His mother nodded before she looped her arm through his.

“You did beautifully. Your father would be incredibly proud of you, Henry, so incredibly proud.”

The tears welled in her eyes before she kissed his cheekbone.

“I have only ever wanted to make him proud,” he admitted.

“He has been proud of you every single day since you were born. Every day.”

She turned her face away, and he knew it was to hide the tears that had rolled down her cheek. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her, allowing her to dab at her eyes. Several moments passed in silence as he looked out the window at the passing snow-covered hills. After a minute or two, his mother cleared her throat.

“So, what is this I hear of a house guest?”

He smiled to himself, thinking of you, your smile, your tenaciousness, and stubbornness. Since his mother had been away in Sandvell on Queen duties, she’d been absent for the excitement from the last near two weeks. He explained it to her in the vaguest of terms and finished stating you would be remaining at the palace most likely for the duration of the month. He spoke it so flippantly that he hoped it sounded to her ears that it was not a big deal.

“Mm-hm. Well, I am pleased you are showing your charming side rather than your scrooge one.”

He gasped, then snapped his head to her to see her amused eyes dancing with laughter.

“I do not think it is right for a mother to call her son a scrooge.”

She did not look as if she regretted it at all. “It is right for a mother to let her son know how he is perceived or has been for the last seven months.”

“Mother, I do not mean to—I have tried--,” he sighed. “It has only been seven months since--.”

“I know darling, believe me, I know. One of the tragedies of our roles, we are expected to carry on as if we are not human. We are seen as figurines, and we must ever be pristine. The human emotion of grief cannot hold us bad. Oh, how I wish it were different.”

They sat quietly again for a few turns on the drive back to the palace.

“I assume you have taken the necessary precautions with our house guest?”

“Yes.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“I have.”

“Was it my son the scrooge or my charming son who did the talking?”

He scoffed, then shook his head. “I am always charming.”

His mother giggled before she rested her head on his shoulder.

Once they reached the palace and walked inside, the staff swarmed his mother, giving her details for the preparations for the opening ball that was taking place within the coming days for the beginning of the festive month. It was the tradition for a ball to be thrown the first weekend of the month to usher in the month-long festivities. That also meant that many would come to the palace to stay and join in on the jam-packed month of celebration.

“Yes, Carolina, I know we have much to plan in a short amount of time.”

Carolina, his mother’s personal royal assistant, nodded her strawberry blonde head as she gripped the stack of papers and folders in her arms tighter.

“Welcome home, your majesty,” she began. “Shall we begin right away?”

His mother, now free of her coat and outside garments, shook her head. “No. Prepare the necessary details, and we will meet in the pink tea room in thirty minutes.”

“As you wish, your majesty,” Carolina replied with a head bow and curtsy.

“Oh, Carolina, for tonight’s supper, please tell the kitchen I am feeling quite festive and maybe a roast. I hear we have a house guest, and I would like to welcome her properly.”

“Mother, do you really think that I have been anything but absolutely hospitable?”

She smiled and looped her arm through his again as they began ascending the stairs.

“Of course, I am sure you instructed the staff to be hospitable and tend to her needs,” she clarified.

She knew him too well. If only she knew that he himself had been the most hospitable of all, he thought to himself. He reminisced on the last few days. He hadn’t been able to have dinner with you for the last five days because the closer the event got, the more work he had to do. You’d exchanged emails about his speech with you leaving notes on what he’d prepared or even giving him suggestions on where to carry other thoughts he’d begun. He liked all your additions and suggestions. It was your suggestion to bring up something personal about his father, especially since it was his passion project. He’d had every intention to disregard it, but in the end, he’d listened to you, and he still hadn’t regretted it.

Though you were maybe a six-minute distance from his own bedroom and under the same roof, he hadn’t physically seen you in those five days. He did get information from Dr. Alphonsi and even details from McArthur about how you looked, who had been to see you to extend his apologies for getting you into this predicament. McArthur was now your greatest fan. You hadn’t chastised him or belittled him for hitting you with the car. You said it wasn’t his fault, accepted his apology, and even thanked him because you would have probably had a health crisis sooner rather than later with your other ailments.

Everyone in the palace seemed to have grown to like you. When he saw Jemma, his sister, she often sang your praises and chattered on about something you or your sister had told her. It was easy to see that even she’d been captivated by you, just as he had.

“Were you listening to me?”

Shaking his head, he glanced at his mother with a raised brow. “I am sorry, mother. What were you saying?”

“What has got your head so far away? work?”

He sighed, shrugged, and looked forward, realizing they were in the hall leading to your bedroom.

“Where are you leading me, mother?”

“It is you who is leading me, son.”

He scoffed. Even his feet seemed to want to go to you. he made a swift left turn away from your hall.

“Mother, I have some work to attend to before supper tonight.”

“All right, do not work too hard. Supper is at seven…promptly, Henry.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Promptly,” he repeated before continuing on his way.

~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

“I am quite happy with your improvement, Xari.”

You smiled.

“I do feel a lot better today than I have in weeks.”

Dr. Alphonsi smiled and began closing his doctor bag.

“That is wonderful news. The direct infusion through IV usually does work better than capsules or any other treatments. You have been a sample patient. If only my other patients would give me this little trouble.”

You snorted, then shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always been a teacher’s pet.”

Dr. Alphonsi smiled again before he walked around to the IV rod to disconnect you. You watched as he slowly removed the needle from your forearm, only flinching slightly. He pressed down on the puncture hole for a few moments then plastered a band-aid across your arm.

“There. So as our plan goes. A week IV, a week injections, then repeat,” Dr. Alphonsi reiterated.

“Sounds good.”

Dr. Alphonsi walked over to the stainless steel trey resting on the side table and placed the needle on it, then began taking the emptied IV bag off the pole. Once the items were arranged on the trey, he walked back over to his doctor’s bag.

“Any questions for me?”

You thought for a moment, then began. “Not really since I already know you’re going to say no traveling.”

“You are not a prisoner here, Xari. If you are feeling strong enough, you can go anywhere you choose. The palace has plenty of rooms that would interest you. When it comes to venturing outdoors, I would say be careful, pace yourself, and do not overexert. There have been many who thought they could walk a block only to find they could not make it more than fifteen meters.”

You nodded again.

“Would you like me to speak to the prince about assigning you a lady’s maid?”

“Oh my goodness, no. that is not at all necessary.”

“All right. Well, you have my telephone number if you need me, as does the staff. I have instructed someone to inform you every time you are to take an injection. I have a trained professional here at the palace who can administer it if you are not confident enough to do it yourself. If you feel confident, remember every six hours one vial. I’ve combined them to decrease the number of needle pricks.”

“Thank you very much, Dr. Alphonsi.”

He nodded, then prepared himself to leave. As he walked to the door, it opened, and in came Anika.

“Does she have a clean bill of health?”

“Cleaner, but we still have quite a way to go. Slow and steady, says the tortoise to the hare,” Dr. Alphonsi said before walking out of your room.

“Oooh, look who doesn’t have a pole attached to them anymore. How do you feel?”

You took a deep breath and thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “A lot better than a did.”

Anika smiled with you, then dropped on the bed beside you. “Does that mean you can finally leave this room and go exploring with me?”

“Nika.”

“Don’t Nika mean, you know you’re curious and want to look behind every door of this place.”

She had a point. You were curious. You’d been in a few palaces from around the world before, but you’d never been in a palace as a guest. At the thought of “guest,” you began to wonder if that was what you were. Patient yes, unexpected and unwanted temporary responsibility, maybe. The look Anika was giving you said she was impatiently waiting for a response.

“Ugggh, fine. Yes, let’s get our Dora on,” you said, slowly getting out of the bed.

A shower took you longer than usual, mostly in part because you couldn't help but marvel at your surroundings. There was marble and porcelain everywhere. The amount of luxury that surrounded you made your jaw dropped. You sampled everything, beginning with the twelve jets in the shower to the heated bidet. The shower even had a switch that you could change the water from fresh to sea saltwater. That part tripped you up because you didn’t know why anyone would want that. Even the sink had buttons you could use to change the water pressure.

By the time you’d showered and changed, an hour had passed.

“What’d you think of the sea salt option in the shower?”

You snorted, then busted out laughing. “Oh my god, I almost lost my shit. Did you try it?”

“You know I did. Then I immediately regretted it when I forgot and began really getting into crevices to wash and rinse. Ouch.”

That only made you laugh harder. The whole time Anika protested and pouted. When you stepped out of the room into the adjoining one, you felt like you saw it in a new light. The first or even second time you’d been in it, nothing registered. Now, you could appreciate the art on the wall, the décor, and color choices. It screamed elegance but also comfort.

“I asked around, and this particular room is called a sitting room. All of the bedrooms have one,” Anika informed.

“Yeah. When I went and toured Versailles, the sitting room was where visitors were entertained. Marie Antoinette loved to also have tea and cake there before turning in for bed,” you added as you walked around, touching different materials and snapping pictures from a few different angles. It was all super high class. You didn’t expect anything less.

You and Anika stepped into the hall, and your jaw dropped.

“Holy Shit!”

The people in the hall stopped what they were doing and looked back at you while Anika tried to stifle her laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. Please carry on.”

They slowly continued what they were doing while you and Anika made your getaway. The halls were gorgeous. The white and gold complemented each other so well you just knew that this was just the beginning. Then when you looked up to the ceiling at the Sistine Chapel worthy mural, you could hear a heavenly hymn in your ears.

“The Sistine Chapel could never,” you muttered while walking and snapping pictures.

It was so beautiful you almost didn’t want to move. Anika’s arm looped through yours was the directing force. She pulled you down the stairs that were on the same level of grandeur as the Russian opera house’s. The carpet that lined them was blue instead of the red that bathed other royal abodes. It even looked like it was silk. When the two of you finally descended the stairs to the main floor, you went down one of the halls on the right.

The first door you both walked into, Anika whistled loudly. “Well, fuck!”

It was the largest dining room you’d been inside in a long while. The table looked like it could seat at least seventy. As you walked around the room, you took pictures from different angles until you got to the window, then you gaped at what you saw.

“Wow.”

“Like a winter wonderland, right.”

“Have you gone out?”

“Heck no. You know me and winter don’t agree. There is a reason I live in Georgia.”

You shook your head and snapped two pictures before you walked off in search of more. Once you and Anika finished looking around the dining room, you walked into a large parlor with several places to sit. You wondered what the room was used for. Your imagination said it could have been where smoking parties happened, or maybe a lounge area before dinners. It honestly could be used to anything.

A library followed that you knew you could get lost in for days and days and lost you got. You touched titles you were familiar with and others you’d never heard of before, making a mental note to come back and have a closer look. The ones you couldn’t pass up, you took from the shelves and took with you. You didn’t know how long you spent in the library. It was hard to tell because you hadn't looked through the whole thing even with all the time you spent there.

Somehow, you found yourself pushing open intricate golden doors and walking into an ornate room filled with gold, marble, and that same blue carpet lining. From the ceilings hung low hanging crystal chandeliers and an even more awe-inspiring mural. At the end of the carpet, you saw a pair of thrones. Immediately you knew you’d happened upon the throne room. You walked the length of it, taking a picture every few steps. When you reached them, you stopped in front and stared.

You could imagine him sitting in the one on the right. You imagined him with perfect posture, a stern face, and tightly clenched jaws with the most regal of crowns. You wondered if this monarchy was as ostentatious as others. Maybe he usually held a scepter and golden orb while being draped with royal furs. At that thought, you imagined him sitting on that throne completely naked with nothing but the royal furs draped over his shoulders. It was a damn inviting vision, one you wouldn’t mind seeing.

A loud sound behind you made you spin around to find a cleaning crew. Quickly you walked back down the carpet and out the room apologizing for intruding. Once back in the hall, you spun around, unsure when you’d lost Anika. You called her name a few times, but there was no answer. It was then you regretted not bringing your cellphone. You walked a little further down the hall then made a left as the scent of flowers captured your attention.

When you stepped through glass French doors, you felt as if you’d walked into some country garden. The room was bathed in soft amber and purples, no doubt from the sunset. Thanks to the glass room, you were able to see peeks of its glory through the fluffy looking white snow resting on it. The more you walked around, the more the exterior contradicted the interior. You knew it being the dead of winter made it impossible for the sight before you. There were flowers of all different kinds. It was a sea of blues, reds, yellows, pinks, and even purples.

“Holy Shit!”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

You spun around, looking for the owner of the voice, but there was no one there.

“Uh--.”

You walked around cautiously.

“A few more steps.”

After three steps, you found a woman sitting at a table decked out with every piece of a tea set you could imagine, along with a few pastries.

“Found me.”

She looked up at you, then looked back down to your feet until she met your eyes again.

“Uh—hi,” said.

“Hello.”

The smile on her face was pleasant, and it matched the kindness in her blue eyes. They were eyes you felt like you’d seen before, only on someone else. Slowly it hit you who she could be.

“Oh my god, your majesty.”

You dropped down to your best curtesy, hoping it would distract her from your potty mouth. She softly chuckled.

“You are quite all right, dear. Stand up, please.”

You stood and tried not to give away that you were slightly unnerved.

“I’m sorry about the cursing. It’s a horrible habit and probably not—dignified,” you expressed.

She laughed again, then took a sip from her golden rose printed porcelain cup. It looked fancy and antique. “No need to apologize. Believe me; cursing is not the worst thing in the world. I have said quite a few in my day.”

You smiled, even though you found it hard to believe, especially with how prime and proper she looked sitting there.

“I have to know, though. How did you know who I was?”

“Um—your eyes.”

She looked even more curious. “My eyes?”

You swallowed and avoided her gaze. “They’re—they’re the same as Henry’s—eh-em, I mean his highness.”

The way she looked at you made you slightly uncomfortable. She looked like she was assessing you. Before she could speak, another woman walked into the room, one with strawberry blonde hair.

“Your majesty,” she began stopping instantly when she saw you.

You cleared your throat and turned to walk away. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“No intrusion. Carolina, I think that will be all for today. I would like to finish my tea and possibly get to know our new houseguest.”

“As you wish, your majesty.” She curtsied then walked back out of the room, leaving you alone once again.

“Please, have a seat,” the queen said.

Before you sat, you actually thought to dart out of the room but quickly changed your mind. When you sat down across from her, you took note of the open binders and folders sprawled out on the table. Out of nowhere, someone walked into the solarium, took up the matching teapot, and poured it into a new teacup to your right.

“Will there be anything else, your majesty?”

“Thank you, Edie.”

The woman walked back out of the room, and it got silent for a few moments.

“Please, have some. It is a Darjeeling blend that is grown right here in Brexendor. I drink at least a cup a day. I promise you it is delicious.”

She took another sip, but she didn’t look at all worried that you wouldn’t sample it. You placed the books on top of the table and took up the teacup instead, and sipped. Lavender, mint, honey, and rose filled your mouth. A moan escaped you.

“Good, right.”

Nodding, you took another mouthful.

“How are you?”

After swallowing, you placed the cup down. “I am feeling a lot better, your majesty.”

“Please, every time I am called that, it makes it impossible to forget. Call me, Cecelia, please.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, and it must have shown because she smiled then giggled.

“O—kay.”

“I promise. I am not trying to trick you in any way. I just want you to be comfortable. I can imagine what it feels like to come here and be surrounded by all of this. It is—overwhelming…intimidating even. I just want to make your time here peaceful and enjoyable.”

She didn’t look like she was lying or trying to cover something. She came off as genuinely kind, like she truly meant what she said.

“Thank you, your—Ce—Ms. Cecelia.”

She smiled, then nodded. “Alright. I understand.”

“I’m Xari.”

“A beautiful name. It is wonderful to meet you, dear. I do hope your stay has been a good one so far.”

“Yes, yes, everyone has been nothing but kind and hospitable. I appreciate your kindness,” you expressed.

Cecelia nodded and took another sip from her cup. Her eyes landed on something on the table.

“Of Vice and Virtue and Clandestine. Two wonderful selections.”

“I hope it’s alright. I took them. I promise I will put them back,” you began.

Cecelia reached her hand out and placed it on top of yours. “Xari, I could not care less if you kept them. You are free to anything in the palace.”

You slowly nodded and took another sip of tea. As you did, the photos on the table caught your eye. They were of a decorated room. It looked like a mock-up of a ballroom of some sort. The colors of the flowers were orange, and they didn’t look like they belonged with the pastel green that surrounded them.

“This color scheme is all wrong. You shouldn’t pair orange and green. You have to pick one or the other. I’d recommend the green; it’s very pretty.”

She looked curious, most likely wondering who the hell you were to say half of what you did.

“Are you a decorator?”

“Not officially. I took some classes, got some certificates in event planning and interior design,” you admitted.

“Oh, so you design for a living.”

“No, no. It—I am a travel photographer and blogger. It’s not what I planned, but I fell into it. Event planning and design are more of hobbies.”

“Well, this might just be serendipitous. I am in the middle of planning the ball for the opening of the festivities,” Cecelia began adjusting herself in her seat. “I just got back in Brexendor, and the trip was longer than I anticipated. That means I have two days to put together our annual ball that is supposed to open Brexenavid. That is our month-long celebration of what every Brexdorian prides themselves on—our holiday time.”

“What exactly is Brexenavid?”

“It is our month-long holiday celebration that we go all out for. There are tens of events, sometimes games, balls, dinners, and dignitaries within Brexendor and our neighboring countries who will begin arriving to stay with us here,” Cecelia explained.

You were impressed. It all sounded like a lot of work.

“And you’re the one to plan all of it?”

“Yes. That is my role as the matriarchal head of the royal family. It is one of my many roles.”

You released a breath, then finished your cup of tea. Before you spoke, you poured another.

“So tell me, if you were planning this, how would it look?”

You took a few moments to sip your tea and think about how you would do it. Closing your eyes, you tried to visualize the space, but you’d seen so many spaces that you couldn’t really picture it.

“Where will it be? What room? Can you describe it to me?”

Cecelia smiled, then stood. “I can do better. Let me show you.”

Cecelia walked out of the room, leaving you to hurry behind her. she led you through the hall you’d just walked down until you went down another hall you hadn’t before. About a minute later, you followed her into a large ballroom that looked like it belonged in Versailles. The walls dripped gold, and the ceiling housed so many chandeliers you didn’t bother to count past five.

“Wow. What a room.”

“One of my favorites. It is the usual one I use. What do you think?”

“Nice room. I would say with the amount of light that comes in and the views; I’d play that up. since it is December and I’ve seen several of your streets, Christmas is huge here.”

“If you only knew,” Cecelia confirmed.

“Then play it up. Christmas trees, poinsettias, tree lights, tinsel, everything that everyone loves about Christmas. Give your guests what they really love about this country, the beauty, the splendor,” you suggested.

She looked around the room as if she were trying to picture it. “I like it.”

Her smile was bright. “I more than like it. I love it. Carolina thought floral.”

“Floral isn’t a bad idea. You can add some in. Roses are subtle, lilies, even Dahlias, and Tulips.”

Cecelia approached you and took your hand. “I love your ideas, Xari. I have one of my own. How would you feel about taking point on this? I know you are still recovering, but you would have every staff member at your disposal. You would not be doing too much. You give the design orders, and everyone else will execute it.”

You were speechless and couldn’t believe the queen had just asked you to deck out her palace for a ball. “Obviously, you do not have to if you do not want to.”

“Do what?”

Henry’s voice brought your attention to him. he wore a simple white button-down shirt and grey dress pants. While it wasn’t as formal, he still looked put together.

“I have just asked Xari if she would put together the ball.”

“Mother. She is supposed to be resting and recuperating. Dr. Alphonsi has left very strict orders, and work was on the list of prohibited actions.”

His mother looped her arm with his with a smile. “Oh, darling, I am not talking about manual labor. She has quite an eye for design and event planning. I thought it would be fun.”

“Mother--,” Henry began again.

“Plus, what are you doing here?”

“You said supper was promptly at seven.”

“Heavens, is it seven already? All right, Xari, you do not have to answer right away. You can take the night to think about it. we should all go to supper.”

“Uh—I’ll go back to my room,” you began.

“Nonsense, looking at you, you are well enough to dine with the rest of us. Come,” Cecelia pressed as she released Henry to loop her other arm with yours and led you closer to her son.

Henry smirked, and when he realized he was in the middle, he softly scoffed and held out his arm for you. Your eyes locked for a few seconds, and you picked up a hint of amusement behind his blue orbs. You slowly looped your arm through his, allowing him to led the two of you out of the ballroom and down the long hall.

As you walked, his mother chattered on about something that you paid no mind to. All you could focus on was the smell of Henry’s cologne and his towering presence beside you. Your hand rested on his forearm, and the heat radiating off of him tempted you to flex your fingers against him. The minute your fingers moved, you felt his bicep tense. It was an action that brought your eyes to him. You lost your breath when you found his were already on you. Goodness, you thought to yourself, slowly trailing your eyes over the details of his face until they landed on his lips.

“Eh-em.”

Snapping your head forward, you saw that you’d arrived in the dining room. You pulled your arm free and walked away from Henry flashing them out, trying to cool them from his heat and gain some control over your wayward thoughts. This dining room was a different one from before. It looked more intimate.

“This is the dining room we prefer to eat in as a family,” Cecelia explained the closer you got to the table.

Taking your place beside Anika, Henry took his at the head of the table while his mother across from you beside a beaming Jemma. Once everyone was seated, the staff walked in carrying trays of food toward you. Once yours was put down, the silver cover was taken off to reveal a pot roast of some kind.

“I hope you are not a vegetarian,” Cecelia began.

“Oh no, my sister and I love all kinds of meat, Anika blurted out, making you give her a harsh eye.

“Wonderful. Please, dig in.”

Dinner went on uneventfully. Jemma talked about her plans to include a local orphanage in the planned festivities for the month. Everyone seemed to think it was an excellent idea. Then the conversation turned to Anika as the Queen tried to get to know her better. The only ones who remained relatively quiet were you and Henry. Every so often, your eyes met and lingered. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words never manifested. That was when your eyes drifted to some part of him, either it was his lips, or his hands, or even those sprigs of black hair that teased the bounty that laid under his shirt just waiting to be played with.

By the time dinner was finished, and after dinner, coffee and tea were served, things had moved to one of the sitting rooms you’d walked through earlier in the day. After your first cup of chamomile and lavender tea, the queen said her goodnights and left you, Anika, and Jemma to your own devices. It allowed you to crack open one of the books you’d picked earlier. By the time you finished your second cup of tea, exhaustion had caught up with you. When you looked up, it was just you and Henry sitting there. Once again, Anika had disappeared, this time taking Jemma with her.

His nose was buried in a book. Before you could admire the view of him sitting there with one leg crossed over the other, his eyes drifted to you; then he lowered his book to reveal a soft smile. Neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence that didn’t need to be filled with words. A yawn sprang from you, making him snort.

“This can’t be regular chamomile or lavender.”

“You are probably right. I do know it is farmed straight from the field and brought here,” he answered.

“Wow, so literally from the earth to your stomach.”

Henry smiled again.

“I um—I think I should probably turn in,” you said.

Henry placed his book aside, then stood. “Allow me to walk you back to your room.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

He smiled, came closer, and held his arm out to you.

“Are you always such a gentleman?”

“I try to be. It is what I was raised to be,” he replied.

“So—always. There isn’t a time of day where you say fuck it and let it all fall away?”

He smiled and stepped a little closer. It was as close as he was the first night in the bar before you parted ways. His eyes bore into you from his towering height, and you decided you wanted to see what he would do.

“There is about an hour in the morning when I first wake. No one has come in to give me news or updates. It is quiet, and my mind is clear. Then there are those few minutes at night before I fall asleep where I can let everything fall off me. In those two moments—I—I feel like myself.”

There was a pained look in his eyes that you wanted to know more about.

“And what does it feel like to be yourself?”

Henry gave you a melancholy smile. “Lonely.”

A full minute passed then Henry held out his arm again. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm and let him lead the way out of the sitting room, down the long corridor, and up the grand steps. The walk was quiet, but you didn’t feel weird being close to him like this. It felt normal. Halfway to your room, Henry spoke.

“My father told me before he died, the more people that want a piece of you, the less you have for yourself and the lonelier it is at the top.”

“Sounds like the words of a wise man.”

“He was very wise.”

Silence. You’d heard the sadness in his voice the first time he mentioned his father.

“Do you miss him?”

“Every single second of every single day,” Henry answered.

As you turned down the hall that would lead to your room, the silence returned.

“Your speech was amazing.”

“You’re saying that because you helped write it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It doesn’t matter who helped write it. Words are nothing without the conviction to back them up. You made the speech.”

You could feel his eyes on you, so you met them right before you stopped in front of your door.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He then took a step to you, closing the wide gap between you.

“Do you usually have to approve the plans for big events?”

His crinkled brow said he was confused. “I guess it depends. Why?”

“Well, since you are so busy being his highness and all, the only way we’d ever see each other the next few days would be for me to accept your mother’s offer and plan this ball seeing how his highness would get the final say-so on all plans. Right?”

Henry slowly began smiling then he licked his lips. “That sounds about right, but that would mean one thing and one thing only.”

You leaned against your door and smiled innocently. “And what’s that?”

“That you want to see me almost as much as I want to see you.”

Your heart pounded faster and faster. “Almost as much?”

Henry rested his arm on the door jamb, sort of boxing you in. “You have to know, Xari.”

“Know what, your highness?”

“Henry,” he whispered quite breathlessly as he stared into your eyes.

The tension between you was palpable. It felt like any second one or both of you were going to do something that neither of you could take back. The loud crack of thunder boomed outside, bringing you both to realize your surroundings. Henry cleared his throat and took two steps back.

“Good night, Xari. I look forward to seeing those plans at every decision,” he said with a stern face and plenty of humor in his eyes.

“Your highness.”

He sighed, then walked back down the hall, leaving you to admire the sway of his hips and the plump but firm state of his ass. God help you, you thought to yourself before you stepped back into your room. You’d never been good at fighting off temptation. You liked to put up a fight but eventually, you always gave in.

You knew that it was only a matter of time before you did just that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@caramara3 @chaneajoyyy @caplover22 @queenoftheworldisdead @liquorlaughslove @shinebrightlikeafanbase @night-of-the-living-shred @dangerouslovefanfic @areubeingserved @maxcullen @jovanaprime @pananegra @bakarilennox @littlepreciousangel @shar74nett @pananegra @laketaj24 @blackgurlkillinit @maeleeme @live-laugh-love-ki @mary-ann84 @mery-be

@jamesbarnesappreciationclub @momobaby227 @naturalthrone22 @emjayewrites @kikimiyazaki @minton131 @aar-journey @sincerelyglowing @theonewithherheadintheclouds @livinglifeformemyselfandi @kittykatlow @mauvecherie @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @angrybirdcr @winchwm @alyxkbrl @rn7rocks @thesecretlifeofdaydreams

@simply-heaven @winchwm @maximumninjavoid @offrostandstarlight @angrybirdcr @maxcullen @xsweetdellzx @sausagefest1996 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @bellaamor88 @alyxkbrl @hello-therree @mery-be @that-chick212 @smuttywriter @ljstraightnochaser

@mrsbarnes-rogers @melanicia @live-laugh-love-ki @deadpixie22 @asiaaisa77 @queenshikongo3 @queenreignssupreme @cltex84 @helenasmirkedno @areubeingserved @petty-bitch-akira @rynabarnesrogers-reading @themeforanudebeach @i-just-like-fanfics

@october505 @msblkfire84 @msbrightsidestuff @youremysuperstar @storiestoldbyjazz @themeforanudebeach @i-just-like-fanfics @titty-teetee @wellthirsted @t3mporaa @jd-now-jq @libbymouse @queen-zelieonna @abschaffer2 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @ramp-it-up @kianya-loves @cutiebubbleboo @koko-michelle

#crown for two fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic #cheesy christmas fic #henry cavill au #royalty au

128 notes · View notes

lilikags · 3 years

Text

General HCs for Krau, Kayron, and Tywin

anon | msg; Hii! Hope ya having a good day! May i request some general hcs for krau, kayron and tywin?

Lili | rply; Sorry for getting this in a little late. You definitely sure can, and I hope you have a wonderful day as well <3 (also, I look around the room as I write this, so if there’s some random hc about something completely random then that’s where it’s from)

post | info;

Krau

☆┊ Krau often stares up at the sky or at a wall when he’s trying to figure something out. It usually happens when he’s alone or with you, because there wouldn’t be anyone to keep his reputation to (that requires brainpower too). Sometimes he’ll put on some sorts of glasses or hat- anything that can get him into that certain mood he needs to think. It’s like when you need to feel a certain amount of pressure to actually get things done.

☆┊ Krau is a bad artist and has bad handwriting. It isn’t necessarily a good thing, but it isn’t always a bad thing either. He just always spent his time focusing on swordsmanship or battle tactics, that he never really had the time to practice either of those skills enough. He can get out a barely interpretable picture and scribbles some can read though. He says he will try to improve them in the future, when he has the time to. Take his word for it, and the key is if he has time to.

☆┊ Krau’s armor contributes to his confidence. He never goes out without it, and putting it on and fixing his hair a little is one of the first things he does. Barely anyone has seen him without it, and unless it was destroyed, people would say that it was possible he even slept with it on. It’s that thing that if he doesn’t wear it, he’s definitely missing something. It’s like he forgot something that was absolutely important, and that would cause him to lose a bit of his confidence. Of course, he knows that for real, the armor doesn’t always matter when he’s not on the battlefield.

☆┊ After the Battle of Taranor (aka Part 1 Chapter 10) Krau didn’t destroy the portraits of the royal family before him. He did fight against them, but that doesn’t mean he truly hated them. He kept them stored away and replaced it with his where they were before, because that would raise morale within the people and prove his loyalty to the new Taranor as king, not as someone with connections to the previous monarchy.

Kayron

+*━ Kayron just never sleeps. He doesn’t find a need to. As an acolyte, he didn’t have the same human needs as anyone else. He says he could use that time to do something more important, like planning out the next few attacks or checking on a few things. Instead, he just spends the entire night thinking. He thinks about whatever comes to mind. There isn’t much, other than battle scenarios, since he has no other goal than to win the war, being made for that purpose.

+*━ Kayron only knows the purpose of which he was created: to fight the archdemon war. Tenebria sometimes asks him what he’d do after the archdemon war, and he just responds with “... Go do something productive.” He just doesn’t know. After the war, there is no purpose for him. He figured he’d have to find it (what else would he do) but he has no idea what that could possibly be.

+*━ Kayron’s another one that doesn’t take off his armor. He doesn’t find a need to. It’s always better to have it on than off, in the case of an ambush. Plus, it isn’t particularly uncomfortable; he’s gotten used to it for sure. He also doesn’t have any other outfits really. Tenebria gets him stuff sometimes, but he puts them aside and refuses to wear them.

Tywin

♡～* On the topic of armor, Tywin takes off his armor when he’s off-duty. He just doesn’t find it necessary to wear such a bulky and heavy thing. He’d rather wear something more comfortable and do other things than wear that. Plus, it gets kind of sweaty in that, I imagine.

♡～* Tywin is always on some sort of schedule. He always has to be doing something, or else he’ll just be lost. He will take the time to plan out his day in the morning, but that’s just his first task of the day.

♡～* Tywin is always willing to work extra hours for Schniel. Honestly, Schniel keeps telling him not to care as much, but that is the one thing that he will stubbornly oppose him about. He’s so dedicated it isn’t even funny, and he holds onto his values extremely tight. He will defend Schniel in almost every way possible. He can give a thousand reasons why Schniel would and should be king, and then Schniel just goes out and says, “But what if I don’t want to?”

#epic seven #epic 7 #e7 #krau #kraureit roheil #tywin

23 notes · View notes

little-ideas · 4 years

Text

Found Family Forever

Ahhhh!!!! Finally I can post this! (´；ω；`)

I have spent weeks on this and it was really hard to keep quiet, but I really wanted to do the idea justice

Many thanks to @beelsbreakfast for helping me finalize the idea and for suffering with me through all the sudden thoughts and angst (though I promise this is fluff and not angst!) I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you, boo! (つ≧▽≦)つ

I hope you all enjoy ♡

Mankai becomes Sakuya's family

The adults are all supportive of him and he's able to go to them for help/advice

That being said, he still struggles a lot with relying on them -years of trying to please others and not be a burden have built mannerisms difficult to overcome

If there's an event requiring an adult, but they don't have to be family, at least one of the Mankai adults will go. Sakuya was concerned about asking his relatives and consulting someone (likely Tsuzuru) on what to do. This gets overheard by Izumi and she volunteers to go. Later events also have several other volunteers including Azuma, Tsumugi, and Homare

Typically Izumi, Azuma, and Tsumugi are the 3 who will go

Citron tells Sakuya stories to help him sleep, but Sakuya will wake up in the middle of the night and feel lonely

He feels bad waking Citron, so instead goes out and walks about the dorm, usually running into Azuma

Azuma invites Sakuya to sit with him and color in some pages over tea or warm milk

At first, they tend to sit in silence or have light conversations, but one night Sakuya feels particularly lonely and Azuma comforts him as he cries

Azuma and Sakuya get a lot closer after that night-both of them know the feelings of being alone, of not having family, of trying to find their way in the world with little guidance. They also are both painfully aware that while they've found home in Mankai, time continues to flow and the others will all likely move on. At the very least, their time in the dorms all together is limited

It's not easy, but Sakuya asks Azuma about what it's like to be without family and for advice with his future

Though their situations differ, they are also similar enough that Azuma sees Sakuya as a reflection of his younger self. He does his best to help Sakuya consider his future, and he desperately wants a different path for Sakuya than the one he stumbled upon

As their evenings together grow more frequent, Azuma begins to expect Sakuya and saves some snacks for him. Of course, Azuma's favorite nights are when Sakuya doesn't come out, since that means he's sleeping peacefully, yet he can't help but feel a surge of sadness whenever this happens, a twinge of loneliness

Sakuya requests and hears stories about Azuma's family

The day Azuma's heart breaks into a million pieces and he VOWS to always be present for Sakuya is when, after Azuma tells Sakuya of one of his childhood adventures with his family, Sakuya asks, "Do you think one day I could be as good a parent as yours were?"

Later on, Azuma sobs when Sakuya looks at him and asks, "Do you think I'll be as good a dad as you are?"

Once Sakuya starts feeling sleepy again, Azuma will help guide him back to bed and tuck him in. Occasionally he's too late, so will gently lower Sakuya until he's lying on the couch and wrap him in blankets. Blanket burrito Sakuya

Azuma humming Sakuya lullabies and playing w/his hair as he drifts off to sleep

Although the others joke that Sakyo's their dad, to Sakuya, Azuma better matches his idea of a father figure

As he and Azuma get closer, he accidentally calls Azuma "Dad" (probably also does this to Tasuku, Sakyo, and Yuzo)

He doesn't understand why. After all, it's not a word he uses regularly

Sakuya will be thoroughly embarrassed by it and Azuma won't notice... at first. Then he realizes Sakuya was referring to him and short circuits

Sakuya calling Azuma "father" in his sleep and Azuma melts

Sakuya getting Azuma, Sakyo, Yuzo, and Tetsuro Father's Day Gifts

Although Sakuya and Azuma get along with everyone and consider all of Mankai their family, the two are particularly close

In fact, everything is fine until one of the other members ends up in the hospital

Their fellow Mankai member is fine, but Sakuya and Azuma are shaken. They are reminded that life changes and things won't stay the same, a fact they know, but have fervently been putting off thinking about because Mankai and all its members are their home and family, found after years of silent pain.

Azuma especially takes the news of hospitalization of their friend hard as he's reminded of the hopelessness from his family's death

Sakuya worries more on that they're alone at night and none of them can visit/stay with them if it's not visiting hours as they aren't legal family

Sakuya starts questioning what it means to be family -he has Mankai, but they're not legally recognized. In fact, outsiders would just consider them close co-workers and maybe use the word "family", but with a different connotation. What, then, is truly family?

Struggling with his feelings, Sakuya seeks out Tsuzuru and talks with him. He may also consult the others, particularly Juza, Kumon, + Muku

It's at this point that Sakuya realizes that, while he treasures all of Mankai, there is one person in particular who he loves as family and would be devastated to lose. Someone who, according to Tsuzuru, he views as his own father

Armed with this new knowledge, Sakuya approaches Winter Troupe (sans Azuma), Izumi, and Sakyo -they know Azuma best, and should anyone know the answer to his questions, it's them

Knowing the holidays are coming up, they think Sakuya is going to ask for advice about presents

While they're not wrong, they're stunned by his question

Griping his pants, Sakuya tried to ease the shaking of his digits. Sweat soaked his palms as his ears heard only the erratic thrumming of his heart and the steady ticks of the clock. They were waiting on him to speak, he needed to get the words out.

"Sakuya?" Izumi leaned towards him, hand resting on his shoulder. Sakuya was certain she could feel his tremors." Are you alright?"

Taking a breath. Sakuya nodded, raising his head to face the audience before him.

"Do you think Azuma would adopt me?"

Once they all have time to process Sakuya's question, there's a whirlwind of responses, but the resounding answer is yes.

Izumi and Tsumugi hug Sakuya

Hisoka, Homare, and Tasuku smile and pat him on the back (+ offer marshmallows)

Sakyo ruffles his hair and simply congratulates him

Sakyo knows the most about adoptions, though Sakuya has done his research, too

Is the most help in getting everything together for Sakuya to ask

Sakuya decides to ask during the holidays, and they’re more than happy to help

Decide they’ll do a holiday gift exchange

Rope Chikage in to teach Sakuya how to make it look like he’s pulled a name randomly when he’s really just held on to Azuma’s name the entire time

They don’t tell anyone else, the fewer people who know, the less likely Azuma’s going to hear about it

Sakuya preps another gift so Azuma doesn’t feel pressured in to accepting him and because he’s worried Azuma won’t like it

Freaks the fuck out the closer it gets to the event

At this point all of Spring Troupe knows because they’re helping him stay composed

And then the day comes:

Presents litter the table, wrapped in bags, boxes, and -is that duct tape? Music pours from the speakers with the karaoke gang singing along, not even trying to be in tune. Omi’s freshly baked cookies are almost all gone, but their scent lingers amongst the spice of warm cider and peppermint. Izumi’s struggle to get Yuki to join in the ugly sweater festivities finally won, she signals Kamekichi to let out a squawk (a much preferred method over her previous megaphone) and ushers all stragglers over to the lounge. Passing Sakuya, she pats his back and smiles before sitting down. He lets out the breath he was holding.

It’ll be ok, he tells himself, they would’ve told you if it wasn’t.

But still, with every gift opened he feels the butterflies worsen, feels his throat tighten; he needs water, air, space -anything- to give him time. He doesn’t remember what he’s holding in his hands and his laughter sounds far away -he’s grateful Tsumugi’s the one who had given him his gift, he can see the understanding in his eyes. Is it just that his acting has improved so much over the years or that everyone’s too excited to notice his strangeness? Sakuya’s not sure, but he feels as though he’s on stage for the first time again.

He knows he doesn’t need to be this nervous, he and Azuma have gotten close over the years -Sakuya goes to Azuma first when he wants advice, when he can’t sleep at night, when he feels like he’s missing family. They’ve spent holidays together when most of the other members have returned to their families, and Azuma has gone with Sakuya to visit his parents’ grave. They’ve even talked the what-ifs of being family -a thought experiment sprung forth one night from their roles in their latest play- and it’s Azuma’s words that night that have seared this crazy idea into Sakuya’s heart: It would be nice if we were family.

They were just words, Sakuya knows, but he couldn’t help but feel the same, and on this night many months later, he desperately hopes those words are true. He wishes, prays to all the gods he knows the names of, that this goes over well, and his hands turn white as Azuma picks up the final box from the table.

“Breathe, Sakuya,” Hisoka mumbles, eyes peeking open as he sits up from leaning on the younger man. “It’ll be ok.”

Sakuya only nods in response, returning Azuma’s smile as he reads the attached card, though it feels fake upon his lips, as though someone else is performing the action. He misses the camera Izumi’s pulled out. And then the sound of crinkling paper meets his ears and Sakuya struggles to refrain from lunging across the room and tearing the packet out from Azuma’s hands, claiming everything was false. He had labeled the items 1 and 2, though he wonders if it would’ve been better to have Azuma open the backup gift first. His thumbs twiddle as he watches the older man open the first packet, but it’s his gasp that has him finally meeting his eyes. Sakuya can see the tears forming and he all but launches himself to hug Azuma when he hears him ask:

“Do you really mean it?”

Sakuya and Azuma both cry. A lot. The whole company is happy for them and they begin festivities anew

Not being sure if Azuma would accept, Sakuya hadn’t told his family yet. Azuma goes with him and though it’s uncomfortable and a bit dramatic, the end result’s a success for them

Sakuya and Azuma finally spend New Year’s happily with family

When Azuma takes Sakuya to visit his family’s graves, Sakuya shows the utmost respect

He introduces himself and refers to Azuma’s parents and older brother as “Grandparents” and “Uncle”

He thanks them for giving birth to Azuma and tells them about how amazing Azuma is and how proud he is to be able to officially call him “Father”

He asks that they kindly look upon him as a grandchild and nephew, and that he will do his best to uphold the Yukishiro name

Azuma sobs

Sakuya does feel a little guilty about leaving his family, but he’s much happier with Azuma

Family photo albums

Just Sakuya and Azuma being happy because they finally have a permanent family again

#a3!#act! addict! actors!#sakuya sakuma #azuma yukishiro #THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I CRIED WRITING THIS #IT'S JUST SO WHOLESOME #TT w TT #the angst is from Sumi generated content which will prob be posted later

105 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Toffee: Chapter 4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, Gordon, John, Grandma, Tracy Family

It’s 5am and I just remembered I promised a fic update last weekend that never happened, so it’s happening this weekend instead. Whoops. So here we have the next instalment of this #irrelief fic for @gumnut-logic‘s prompt “toffee on the couch”.

The tale of woe continues for Scott, because this is far from over and the Gordon&John&Grandma tag team is brutal. What did he ever do to deserve all this? Oh yeah, drop some toffee on the couch. Whoops.

<<<Chapter 3

It was the second night in a row that Gordon had gone to bed early. Begging off from Grandma’s dinners was hardly unusual – Scott himself was guilty of that, as were all of his brothers – but getting himself sent to bed when the sun had yet to touch the ocean was something Gordon usually evaded. Despite Grandma’s assurances that he would be fine after a good night’s sleep, Scott was disturbed enough by the uncharacteristic behaviour to check in on his younger brother.

When Gordon did uncharacteristic things, that meant one of two things: he was ill, or a prank was brewing. Scott didn’t particularly care for either of those, especially for as long as he was on laundry duty and the fallout of a prank would get added to his workload.

“Gordon?” he called, knocking on the aquanaut’s door. A muffled groan was his response, and he took that to mean ‘come in’, despite the fact his younger brother probably meant something more along the lines of ‘go away’. The door opened easily and he stepped inside to find his brother bundled up under his blanket. He was lying on his side, curled around his stomach, and Scott crossed the room in several, quick, strides to crouch down beside him.

“You shouldn’t lay like that,” he reminded him, touching Gordon’s shoulder gently. Amber eyes opened and regarded him balefully.

“I’ll lay however I want,” the younger Tracy grumbled. “What did she even do to dinner today?” Scott supressed his own feelings of nausea at the recollection and offered him a commiserating smile.

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “But stomach ache or not, you’ll make your back worse if you sleep like that.”

Gordon let out a groan of protest, but Scott would not be deterred, gently poking and prodding him until he unfurled from his foetal position and straightened his spine.

“You’ll thank me when you get up,” he reminded him, and Gordon let out disgruntled mutterings that consisted of a flippant yeah, yeah, and something that sounded suspiciously like smother hen. Scott shook his head fondly, before lightly mussing blond hair. It was crisp from too much chlorine, as per usual. Not quite so usual for Gordon not to wash it out before bed, though. “And don’t forget to wash your hair in the morning.” He got another round of yeah, yeahs and smother hen, and chuckled. “Sleep well.”

A simple case of stomach upset didn’t require a constant vigil – it had, once upon a time, but then Grandma had become head chef and minor stomach aches became commonplace. None of his brothers permitted him to fuss over that, so long as it remained minor, and with the frequency Scott would never have time for anything else if he did. Therefore, it was with a fond smile and barely any reluctance that Scott left Gordon to his misery. If he was still bad in the morning, then Scott would worry; Grandma’s cooking rarely left anyone incapacitated for long – a small mercy.

Seeing Gordon all snuggled up in bed put him in longing mind for his own. What with the washing machine packing in, all the handwashing required, and the mudslide rescue – with more handwashing required afterwards – Scott was quite tempted to give up on the day and hide under his own covers until morning. Unfortunately, duty called and he reluctantly traipsed back down to the desk to face the paperwork. John might have done the rescue report, saving him one hell of a battle to recall everything that had happened in that mud-covered nightmare, but Tracy Industries had their own paperwork to be completed.

With the chair cover still hanging up to dry, the desk was an unattractive place to sit, however, and Scott allowed himself the small vice of picking up the laptop and collapsing into Alan’s pilot seat to get the work done. Loading up the metaphorical pile, Scott was pleasantly surprised to find there was less there than he remembered. Oh, that approval should still have been sent out the previous day – and that one, too – but there was less outstanding work to do than he’d thought.

He might actually get to sleep in his poor, neglected bed tonight. That was a motivating thought, and he tackled the first in the stack with vigour, startling Alan who entered the room with his virtual headset.

“Uhh… Scott?”

He waved him over.

“Go ahead; I don’t have much work to do.”

Alan’s look of uncertainty morphed into one of glee, and he air punched. “Hell yeah! Cavern Quest Final Chamber here I come! Again.”

Scott chuckled at his enthusiasm, fondly remembering when he had the free time to play video games as a teenager. It was always good to see that being a part of International Rescue hadn’t stifled that freedom for Alan. Unfortunately, his freedom for that sort of thing was long gone, and wouldn’t come back as long as he had a backlog of paperwork to do, so with a final fond look at his brother swinging an imaginary weapon and declaring challenges to Blagworts – whatever those were – he returned to the laptop and work.

Despite being less than he thought, it still took him the better part of three hours to clear all the ones he was supposed to have returned by then; he glowered at one merrily telling him it was due in 8 hours – stupid timezones – before dismissing it for later. The moon was high in the sky, the villa taking on the reddish hue it often did in the late evening. Alan had retreated to his bedroom at some point, maybe an hour ago although Scott hadn’t checked the time, and it was with great delight that Scott realised it was before midnight.

He could make a start on that next group of paperwork and maybe even get some of it done on time – a momentous occasion that would probably give the secretary and board of directors a heart attack – or he could go to bed.

Memories of Gordon comfortably snuggled under a blanket several hours earlier won. He’d save his employees the heart attack and get some sleep. Barring paperwork taking less time than usual, the day had been pretty awful and actually getting to relax in his sorely neglected bed sounded nothing short of heavenly.

He sent a suspicious eye to John’s portrait, half-expecting a midnight emergency (midnight here, probably a perfectly respectable mid-afternoon in the danger zone), but his brother didn’t appear and he unceremoniously shoved the laptop back in the desk before dimming the lights and making a beeline for his room.

It was, predictably, just as he’d left it. He toyed with the idea of a shower before bed, but decided against it. A shower was likely to wake him up, and that was the last thing he needed right then. He made do with kicking off his shoes and tucking them in their little corner of the room before vanishing into the bathroom to perform the required evening ablutions and shrugging on some sleepwear.

From there, it was a perfectly simple matter to send a sleepy call to John letting him know he was turning in for the night, worm his way under the blanket, and let the sandman visit.

A shrill ringing jerked him awake, and with a groan he rolled over to swipe at the alarm clock controls on his bedside table, only to freeze. All noisy alarms were immediately forgotten at the sensation of something sticky against his leg, and with a hopeless prayer that it was not what he thought it was, a tentative peeling back of the blankets revealed melted toffee gluing him to his bedsheet.

How the hell had that got there?

A pounding on his door jerked him back to the present.

“Shut that thing up before it wakes the bear!” Clearly Gordon was recovered from last night’s dinner and back to his usual habits, as Scott had thought he would be. “Scott!”

With a groan he reached out for the controls once again and swiped the off command. The shrill ringing was replaced by a phantom one in his ears and he shook his head to clear it before regarding the brown mess on his leg and sheet with something that might have resembled despair, although he’d deny it if anyone came in and saw it. Certainly the moisture in his eyes was typical morning yawn-induced liquid and nothing to do with tears of frustration.

More laundry, and he hated bed linen anyway. With his promise to Virgil about no more toffee in the washing machine, he was also going to have to wash it by hand until all traces of toffee were gone before he could bundle it in the machine to finish the job. There went any free time that morning.

The toffee on his leg was at least easier to deal with, and he was glad he hadn’t taken an evening shower as he threw himself under the warm water with vigour, scrubbing at the sticky patch on his leg forcefully and wincing as a few hairs parted company when the sticky stuff peeled away. Cleaning himself, however, was the easy bit. Somehow he had to get his sheet down to the laundry room without getting collared by anyone else.

There was a morning growth of stubble on his face but he ignored it for the moment, throwing on his clothes and stripping the sheet from his bed. Once the fabric was bundled up into a ball – toffee-smeared section carefully away from the rest of the fabric so it didn’t spread – it was the not so simple case of getting to the laundry room.

He was well aware what taking bed linen down to the laundry room first thing in the morning looked like.

The first hallway was cleared, Gordon splashing away down in the pool below and Grandma making threatening noises in the kitchen. Neither of his other brothers had left their rooms, and barring an emergency call, wouldn’t for some time. As long as John didn’t pick the wrong moment to check in, he’d be fine.

“Oh, m-morning, Scott!”

He’d forgotten about Brains. How had he forgotten about Brains? Behind the engineer, MAX watched him curiously for a moment before letting out a sound far too reminiscent of a wolf whistle for Scott’s liking.

“Uh, morning, Brains,” he greeted, hoping his cheeks weren’t flushing as the older man took in the sight of the bundled up sheet with a raised eyebrow. “Toffee, again,” he admitted, hoping the engineer was removed enough from usual social conventions to not start drawing the same assumptions his brothers would.

“O-oh, I see. C-carry on, then.” With a little wave, Brains continued towards the den – why was he heading there, why was he out of his lab? Scott returned the wave and continued his advance to the laundry room, only to be caught up short as he overheard Brains mutter “I-is that what they’re c-calling it n-now, MAX?”

Determined not to flush, Scott barrelled through the laundry room door and shut it behind him firmly.

“Everything alright there, Scott?”

John was floating in front of him, arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted in amusement as he glanced at the fabric in Scott’s arms. Scott groaned.

“This is not what it looks like,” he protested, and John smirked.

“Clearly, because it looks like melted toffee but you wouldn’t be bright red if it was really toffee, would you?”

The bundled sheet sailed through the hologram as Scott hurled it at his infuriating, know-it-all younger brother’s projection.

“Shut up, John,” he muttered, retrieving the fabric and dumping it in the sink. “I’m not bright red.”

“Hmm, must be a problem with the colour filters on the hologram, then,” John mused. “Because you look it to me.”

“Then go fix your holoprojector and leave me in peace,” Scott snapped.

“F.A.B.” And he was gone, leaving Scott with a sticky sheet and a sinking feeling that today was also not going to be a good day.

With a sigh he scrubbed at the toffee, determined to get the sheet de-toffee’d so he could put it in the machine before the rest of his brothers found out. Or Grandma, who might at least not jump to immature conclusions but would give him another tongue-lashing about leaving toffee lying around.

An hour later, Gordon was wolfing down something Scott suspected Grandma didn’t know about for breakfast – it looked suspiciously celery-crunch-bar-green – as he entered the kitchen, laptop in hand. That paperwork with a time limit of eight hours to go before he went to bed was now due, and he should probably get it done while he had some downtime.

“No work at the breakfast table,” Grandma scolded, appearing from nowhere and shutting the device before Scott could properly register what it said. “And Gordon, snacks are not breakfast. Have a pancake.”

Scott didn’t hear Gordon’s response, too busy staring at his now closed laptop.

The paperwork due this morning hadn’t been there.

tbc...

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #grandma tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #brains #max #toffee

20 notes · View notes

howtowhumpyourhiccup · 3 years

Text

Winter Whumperland Day 9: Planned

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 9. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 8 'Lucky'. The police aren't coming for him and he doesn't know if his friends or family even know where to look. With not just his own health and safety on the line, Hiccup knows that if he wants to escape, he wants to do it in a way that ensures Viggo can never lay a hand on him again.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 5 218

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “countdowns”, “running out of time”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Ah, another prompt that started out as a 2,5k something and has now become a 5k monster. And Day 12, at 6k, IS STILL NOT FINISHED YET! :'D

At the very least, it makes me curious to see what the final word count will end up being.

Anyway, here it is! The chapter that reveals both Hiccup's previous plan to escape as well as what he saw on the computer in Day 3.

Constructive criticism is appreciated! Including on the tags, because holy hell, they get more difficult with each one-shot!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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

The police aren't coming for him. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the hope of being found by the people meant to find him seemed to slim with every morning he has to wake up next to Viggo Grimborn.

It's through Eret that Hiccup will find out that they aren't looking for him at all, that they've simply arrested the first guy they could conveniently get their hands on and called it a day. It apparently didn't matter whether they got the true culprit, or culprits in this case, or if they even find a body or not. Hiccup's disappearance is a closed case.

But before that life-ending trip in the mountains, well, life-ending for at least two someones, Hiccup has no idea what could be keeping the cops from finding him for so long. It's a disheartening thing. For all those tv-shows and movies about the police going through hell and back for the civilians they're supposed to serve and protect, Hiccup is feeling strangely abandoned.

And he can't see his friends ever coming for him, though he knows they must have surely looked. And his father, he's more the "let the right authorities handle it" kind of man, but he must've searched for him, too.

But if they have any idea where to look or how to go about helping him, he wouldn't have been here for as long as he has. His best hope of getting out of Viggo's clutches is to find a way out himself. Ironically enough, he means to break free through those authorities his father so relies on.

Hiccup could remove the watch, could somehow safely remove the shock band from his ankle he hasn't tried yet, take his prosthetic from the safe, take his clothes, take his cat, and then finally take his leave. He could go home, be surrounded by friends, tell everything to the police, ... and then what?

Give Viggo and Ryker the chance to destroy everything related to him and disappear? Allow him the time to make up an iron-clad tale about how Hiccup had run away with him? Having no idea his friends and father didn't know of his plan to run away until they were in too deep? And really, young people can be so crazy when it comes to love, he wouldn't be the first to run away for the sake of the person they think is The One.

And Stoick, such a big man, they've all seen how angry he can be on his first and last press conference. Viggo believed him when Hiccup told him his father was physically violent with him and just wanted to keep him safe! And he is especially bad when drunk. You can't blame a foolish man with too good of a heart for getting himself into trouble trying to help this young man out.

Besides having the money to get him the best lawyers money can buy, Viggo is also a master manipulator. Playing on Hiccup's need to help others to get close to him, earn his trust, and get to know him well enough to know which buttons to push to break him makes that clear to him now. Viggo can spin any tale he wants and Hiccup fears the number of people that will believe him.

He's seen it before, innocent people painted in such a bad light that they are bullied and ostracized to the point of disappearing, too afraid to come out and speak the truth any more. He doesn't want people to see his father that way.

It's true that Stoick has a temper, but against his son, he's never so much as raised his voice. He doesn't want Viggo to hurt his family, too.

Viggo is nothing like Dagur. Dagur was more like your run-of-the-mill obsessed stalker who believed that he deserved and needed a boy three years younger then him to fill the missing void his deceased parents left him with. He was a tragic product of his life, of loss he couldn't process. And if he can take Heather's word, Dagur has been putting effort into getting better.

Hiccup thought he knew what obsession looked like through him and so he didn't recognize the warning signs in Viggo.

Viggo, who doesn't have a tragedy that shaped him to be the way he is. Viggo, who is unrepentant in his ways, who doesn't care who he hurts or how bad. Viggo, who is so selfish and arrogant that he would rather bury a failed project six feet under and start over than ever admit defeat.

Hiccup never saw the warning signs.

"He swallowed up two hours of your time, Hiccup!"

His last conversation with Astrid suddenly comes to mind. Dagur demanded his time as well, but that's just it, he demanded it. Viggo was 'nice' about it in that he asked and then played on Hiccup's emotions without him realizing it to get him to say "yes".

A master manipulator. This is why Hiccup needs evidence if he wants him convicted. If it becomes a "he said, he said" kind of trail, he's already lost. And really, who'll believe him when he tells them Viggo... did things to him, a man.

And then there is another possibility that he's afraid of. The police not arresting Viggo quickly enough to keep him from coming back for Hiccup and doing gods know what to him in retribution.

At least that's something Dagur tried to do, too, when he heard of the restraining order placed on him. He was to be arrested for breaking it, for breaking it multiple times as a matter of fact, and he couldn't bear with that. Though in that case, Dagur had blamed Hiccup's father and his friends for keeping them apart and tried to convince Hiccup to disappear with him. It was the only way they could be together in his eyes, if they started over together somewhere far, far away. He completely blindsided that it was Hiccup who wanted that restraining order in place.

If Hiccup leaves the Grimborn mansion, he wants to be sure he'll never have to see it again. And he'll want to make sure he doesn't mysteriously vanish the second someone blinks. He doesn't want White Spot to inexplicably die from poison or from being run over either.

And, oh Gods, what if he's out there and he comes after Astrid? Snotlout? Fishlegs? The twins? The sanctuary isn't chock-full of cameras either, what if they manage to hurt Toothless in some way? Or pay someone to hurt Toothless? His father seems untouchable, but what about his mother? There are too many ways in which the Grimborns can get back at him and Hiccup would rather spend the rest of his life rotting away in that basement than let anything happen to them.

And that is why he needs to get onto that computer, why he snuck into the study while Viggo's at work and Ryker is sleeping off another hangover.

He's stolen the key to his bedroom and locked it from the outside. If he wakes up before Hiccup finishes what he intends to do, there'll be hell to pay. Wooden doors don't really stop a man like Ryker.

But who better to break into Viggo's computer than someone who knows his way around one?

Hiccup hobbled into the study using the crutch they'd provided him with, begrudgingly so on Ryker's part as Viggo sees it more as something they can take away if their guest is being ungrateful, and he sits down at the desk. It takes only a minute or two, but he manages to get past the password.

A breath of relief quietly leaves him, he's become a bit of a quiet person, and he sags.

Viggo better not see him, he disdains a bad posture. Hiccup can't even begin to count the amount of comments or "corrective slaps on the wrist" he's gotten for not sitting or standing up straight. At some point, when Viggo was particularly sick of Hiccup sitting slouched, he tried to buy him a corset so that maybe he could finally sit with a straight back for once.

But Viggo isn't here and Hiccup gets to sag. He can threaten him if he's not here.

At first, Hiccup isn't sure what he's looking for. Something illegal, for sure, but what? The party guests from the other day have given him the idea to try and look for something. Viggo's company specializes in import and export, surely, he has to have something shady saved on his computer. He has the ships and containers, he can take things in and out of the country without a problem.

Someone as smart as Viggo isn't going to look up "how to treat broken ribs" online, so it's not like it's as simple as looking up his browser history. Would he search and buy the medication needed to stave off pneumonia online? Drugs can be found on legal sites, he wouldn't even need to worry about turning any heads.

What Hiccup needs from this computer is virtual evidence, but searching for it isn't going to be a walk in the park.

Hiccup rolls his shoulders and adjusts his position in the chair, it rolling in place.

Sitting in this chair is difficult. He'd lean back, but he can't. And just sitting there isn't doing him any favors either. There are painful welts all over his back from last night's games in bed and that makes just about everything a little difficult for him.

He'd let Viggo do it. Because if he didn't it would happen either way and then it would be made so much more unpleasant.

So while uncomfortable as he possibly can be does he look deeper into this computer, doing everything mostly on a glimpse alone to get through it all quick. He can't afford to dilly dally in every file. And if he doesn't get this done, there will be many more nights of these "games".

Viggo isn't like most people, he doesn't have games or other files or apps he would deem unnecessary on his computer. Most of what takes up space on his internal hard drive is what he considers important. For him, that seems to be stuff that he's taken home from work and nothing more. And they're all fairly recent as the oldest file Hiccup has come across is a little less than two years old.

And then he clicks on something inconspicuous and a little window pops up and asks for a password. Hiccup raises an eyebrow, suppresses the need to comment on it, and quietly gets by this one as well.

Finally, after what Hiccup realizes has been a quick two-hour search, he's found something promising.

There are folders named with serial numbers that translate as dates to him and the many files within are also coded with numbers following that same date. The oldest one appears to be from a little over half a year ago, the hard drive has last been cleaned out then. Just as he thought, Viggo isn't a fan of leaving a trace.

He clicks on one of those documents and then another and another and another. Hiccup's expertise may not be with economics or Viggo's branch of work, but he is often smarter than people give him credit for. He can still figure out that what he's looking at is some seriously shady stuff. Everything from exporting fake goods to exotic animals and even drugs, no wonder Viggo is a rich, rich man.

So Viggo isn't just a criminal that kidnaps and abuses people, he's very into the black market, too. A terrifying thing, honestly. He's seen movies, he knows how these things go. So he turns his attention to a different crime he might be able to exploit.

Embezzlement, bank fraud, insurance fraud, forgery, just all kinds of fraud and all that gained him, and only him, money. And that, that can work in his favor. Because if there is something people don't like, it's when someone else is hoarding money. Especially if it's all garnered illegally.

taking his eyes off-screen for a moment, Hiccup strains his hearing to see if he can pick up any sounds inside the house. It's still quiet and that means Ryker must still be asleep.

So focusing back on the screen, he gathers as many of these suspicious documents as he can find and then searches for the e-mail app Viggo uses, which is the only one present on this entire device.

He pauses for one nervous moment as he clicks on it, grimacing and holding his breath, and sees that Viggo is apparently the kind of person who legs himself off after every use.

He's lucky. He can log on with his own address and log back off without drawing suspicion.

But then he realizes he doesn't actually know where to send all of these to and briefly does he almost panic.

He doesn't have a lot of time here and Viggo does sometimes have the tendency to come home unexpectedly to "surprise him".

Does he send all of these to the police of his city? Do police even handle cases like fraud? Surely, they do? And do police stations even have e-mail addresses to mail to?

Hiccup feels a sense of anxiety creeping up on him. He doesn't have a lot to work with and he realizes the chances of this plan working aren't big, it all boils down to a gamble. His freedom, it will depend entirely on whether or not they will check an e-mail from the outside or not.

But his chances are good enough, aren't they? His full name is right there in his e-mail, they're not going to ignore a message coming from "Hiccup Haddock", right? Even if they've given up on him?

He doesn't feel like he has much of a choice. It's not like he can put all of this on a USB, run away, and personally get it to the police. He can't even leave the house, not even to get into the yard! And even if he did, he'll run into the same problem of risking giving the Grimborns enough time to either disappear, hurt him more, or both.

So Hiccup swallows his worries, feeling like he can't do this if he lets his fears get to him like this. E-mailing the police will have to do.

To distract himself, Hiccup continues his search for more incriminating information. He's not going to fit all of it in just one measly e-mail, but the more the merrier.

On his search for more, Hiccup comes across another one of those inconspicuous folders like the others he's looked through. Though this one, for some reason, is titled differently. Instead of the numbers used with the other folders, this one is named "personal project".

Despite the name change, Hiccup is confident he can find more evidence in this.

The second he clicks on that folder, he regrets it.

There are photos instead of files in this one, a lot of them. Some are very compromising, sensitive, the kinds you'd only find on one particular site on the internet.

And they're all of him.

Some were taken before his abduction and clearly without his knowledge. Like someone had been hiding behind corners with a camera and followed him in his daily life. There are photos that come from online, he recognizes the ones his girlfriend took and posted with his permission, which Viggo has stolen without.

And then some were taken after his kidnapping and those are the worst.

Because these are so humiliating. So, so humiliating! Compromising positions, in several states of undress, from almost every part of his body, ... And to make matters worse, he can't remember any of these ever having been taken.

What he does remember? The many, many times when he would randomly pass out during his time in the basement.

Staring at the countless pictures, Hiccup feels like he's burning. The fire that eats him alive isn't made out of a physical flame, it's the shame burning him to a crisp. Like he's been soaked in gasoline and lit up with a match, like he might actually writhe and scream.

Before he can stop himself, he's crying.

He's not thinking of Ryker when he does. Hunching forward, his face in his hands, he sobs and hiccups and sniffs. He's not quiet about it either.

He had no idea these pictures were being taken, no idea at all. But here they are, staring at him in the face, mocking him. He feels so humiliated.

It takes him a while to pull himself back together again. He doesn't know for how long he sits there, bawling his eyes out, struggling to breathe. The weight of what's been done to him has come crashing down on him once more and now it feels like he's drowning.

He wants to delete these pictures and hope that Viggo doesn't have them saved anywhere else. He wants to throw the whole damn computer away just to be sure, take his crutch or something heavier and then smash it to bits.

But he can't. Because if Hiccup does get rid of them, Viggo might notice that they're gone when he revisits them. And he's going to notice a missing or broken computer and that'll mean the end of him.

So as horrible as it is, he has to let every single one of them be.

Or maybe he doesn't quite need to leave them alone.

Pure anger on his face and tears still in his eyes, a white-hot rage that he's unfamiliar with coursing through his veins, he faces those pictures again.

Viggo thinks he can just make these pictures without his knowledge, without his permission, without expecting them to be used against him?

Fine. He, too, can play that game.

Viggo and Ryker will rot, even if it's the last thing he'll do.

Even if it means he'll be drawing his last breath at the end of all of this, they will pay.

Hiccup adds them to the list of things he'll be sending to the police. He'll worry about how these will make him look later, right now he's not in the right mindset to worry. He just wants Viggo to face the consequences of his actions.

This is proof of some of the abuse he's had to suffer through thus far, it's proof that he's been stalked prior to his abduction, and it will only make their list of crimes bigger and therefore the time they'll be serving longer.

Or that's what he hopes.

The police station of his choosing has a neat little "send e-mail" in their contact info and that's what he clicks on. He clicks on it several times, each e-mail filled to the brim with incriminating photos and files and all send from his address. The black market stuff they'll hopefully find on their own. That is, if Viggo is apprehended too quickly to wipe his device clean.

Hiccup hits send on the last one and has to take a breath.

He's an exhausted mess, his sleeves are wet with tears and filthy with snot. He should get cleaned up before his "beloved partner" comes home.

But he allows himself a moment of sweet, sweet vengeance.

"Well now, Viggo, I hope you like living with a timer." Hiccup tells the man, though he isn't here. From the second he met the man to the night of his kidnapping he's lived with one, whether he realized it or not. Now Viggo gets to live with one for a change.

And hopefully, this one will run out a lot quicker than his did.

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

When Hiccup ran away in the snow, Viggo wasn't expecting to be caught as quickly as he was, maybe there was a chance he wouldn't even be caught at all.

Wandering aimlessly in a forest with one foot broken, the other missing, and unprepared for the cold, the chances of Hiccup surviving at all were slim, to say the least. And that fishing town, they weren't close enough for someone familiar with the area to reach it in time, let alone someone who has never been there before.

But here he is, sitting at a table in an interrogation room in a police station. Not Port's as he's already been handed over to a different station. More specifically, he's been brought to New New Berk's.

But the agent standing opposite to him with a carton cup of lukewarm coffee in their hands, they're not from around here and that makes Viggo wonder what exactly he's been caught for.

Is it for fraud? Blackmarket dealings? But all of that information should be locked behind a password and he's been meticulous in what he keeps and deletes. he's even gotten rid of an entire hard drive just to be sure.

And yet, he knows Hiccup messed with his computer, he's caught him crying in front of the screen through a hidden camera. Though, he has figured by now that it meant he'd found Viggo's personal photographic collection of him.

It was amusing at the time. It served Hiccup right for sticking his nose in places where it didn't belong.

But that collection was protected, too, and so maybe Hiccup found more than just those photos. As a matter of fact, it might even be the most likely scenario. he regrets admitting to not thinking of Hiccup figuring out what he was looking at when he saw those hidden files.

But if it is only that, then maybe he can still get off with a relatively light punishment.

As Viggo is having his inner monologue with himself, Agent Mackle stares at him with a look the man can only call contempt. He finds the way the younger Grimborn brother is sitting there horribly arrogant. With his posh suit, polished look, expensive jewelry and accessories, straight back. The only signs of what might be distress are the heavier than usual bags under his eyes and the slightly frazzled hair, that latter is a feat with how short it is, and he only knows because he's seen pictures of Viggo before.

But it's not enough, not with a monster such as this one, and Viggo Grimborn has been a monster to many people.

They should be doing an interrogation, however, so they speak up.

"He was found, just so you know." Viggo looks up to the agent.

"Your brother. Dead, head split open with a shovel, you didn't even try to hide his body, did you? Bad enough that you don't care about laws and morals, but then not only did you decide to disregard human life, you also decided that your brother's wasn't worth it." Mackle starts, completely astounded by the lack of any feeling or remorse in one man. How much the victim must've suffered with him.

Or rather, victims.

On his own brother's death, the suspect doesn't have a comment and Viggo even looks away again, seemingly uninterested. Whether this is a ploy or because he truly doesn't care, Mackle finds both options agitating.

Viggo had been caught trying to leave Port to go back home, taking his luggage, and planning on taking his personal boat to get away. A messy escape for someone who looks like he prizes himself on his tactics and thinking things through.

But then, Port police also found his brother face down in a thin layer of snow in what was clearly meant to be a shallow grave, so something must've gone down that made the suspect want to pack up and leave in a hurry.

He hadn't even bothered to cover Ryker grimborn with a blanket or a tarp or anything, he just left him to be feasted on by foraging scavengers. What brotherly love there must've been between these two.

But oh, they do have something to say that might be interesting to Viggo.

"And oh, he was found, just so you know." Viggo, again, looks up to the agent, who sips from his cup. Except, this time he doesn't look as bored as he probably figures who they must be talking about.

"Hiccup Haddock, your little "pet project"? That's what you called him, right? He was found alive, despite you and your brother's best attempts at silencing him." There is a certain flavor to telling a criminal that they haven't succeeded in destroying a life. Well, haven't succeeded in destroying this one.

"And it's thanks to him that you won't just be charged with fraud and all that good stuff, but also multiple counts of kidnapping, murder, abuse, and, the most fun of all, all kinds of sexual assault. That's a long, long list Mr. Grimborn." Agent Mackle tells him, their disgust barely hidden. They're in their late twenties, maybe earlier thirties. Viggo can't pin an exact number on them.

He raises an eyebrow at the usage of "multiple counts", but he's not responding otherwise.

"I can already hear you think. How do they know? How can they arrest me for any of that with no bodies?" Mackle walks around, imitating how they think the suspect before them might sound as they pace, and then they face him again.

"Well, your last victim has a pretty good idea of where your brother buried your victims since you two were kind enough to take him to your murder cabin to kill him there, too, if, and I quote from Hiccup Haddock himself, he "didn't fall in line". He was kind enough to tell us in return." Mackle informs Viggo, making it clear they've been talking to him.

It worked for as long as it did because of the cabin's isolated location. It was on private property, which means people would keep away from that part of the forest. And kids, if they snuck on and saw something they were never meant to see, they would keep to themselves for fear of getting into trouble. Keep to themselves and very possibly repress everything they might've seen until it one day comes back to haunt and ruin them.

For effect, they lean on the table, cup still in hand.

"We've searched the property, Mr. Grimborn, and we're digging every single one of those poor souls up as we speak. We'll be making a lot of families happy this holiday." They continue.

"Well, probably not happy since their missing loved ones were found dead, after all, but they'll have close at long last." There is only a little sense of justice here. Viggo's arrest and sure to be punishment will not bring all those people back, but at least he'll finally be stopped. And it'll all be because of Hiccup.

There is still not a word from Viggo, but what did they expect? They have to suppress a sigh as they straighten.

"You were hard to catch, I'll admit that. We've recovered three of the bodies, so far. Their clothing, personal effects, and even physical traits helped us identify them. Let me tell you, we never would've linked them together." Mackle takes three of the case files he has on a neat stack on his side of the table and flips them open.

"There is no connection between gender, appearance, ethnicity, religion, and with your latest victim, no connection between sex either." He skims through some of the pages. There is even a "John" amongst those three.

The one thing they do have in common, though? Smarts.

"A med, student, a biochemist, an ambitious lawyer, and now an aspiring expert in draconic behaviors. A dragon whisperer if you will." Well, that is what the victim's closest loved ones have told them.

Closing the case files, they grab them and drop them back on the large pile of suspected victims, making quite the bang on the table. Viggo doesn't jump as badly as they would like.

"So tell me, how does it feel to know you were taken down by one of your pet projects? One of your many, many victims? I'm sure you thought you were smarter than all of them." Agent Mackle asks, hoping to finally break Viggo with at least one of these. All they want is a little crack in that stoic façade.

And finally, there is a response on Viggo's face, but not one they'd like to see. A smirk appears on his face.

"You ask me how I feel?" He asks and his gaze meets Mackle's.

"Hiccup and I know each other. The reason I could keep him under my thumb for so long is because I know him and therefore know where to push. I know how to get him to make certain sounds, I know how to make his body react that way I want it to react, I know how to make him obedient to me, the point is, agent, I know Hiccup through and through." Viggo takes a pause, enjoying this little confession of his.

"To the world, I'll be known as a monster, but I will also have my business empire-"

"Had. I don't think many of your partners or clients will want to have anything to do with your business anymore. Especially not now that they'll know you've been frauding your way into all of that money for your own gain." Agent Mackle quickly retorts, not liking Viggo's energy and enjoyment in all of this.

"However," Viggo completely ignores them, simply continuing to talk and sounding as arrogant as he possibly can. "Hiccup will only ever be known as the one who got away and he'll be lucky if that is all that he's known for. Even you only refer to him as my victim."

Mackle doesn't know what to say, furrowing their brows while Viggo's smirk remains true.

"So no matter how much he fought to get away from me, Hiccup Haddock will never escape the fact that he still belongs to me in the end." Viggo looks away at that, taking this as another checkmate. And the brand will prove that, too. Even if he has it removed, there were still be the scar of where it once used to be.

Mackle has seen a picture of it, seen the "V.G" burned into his flesh. They've seen many pictures depicting Hiccup. That a 19-year-old boy had to go through something like this... Age is another thing that didn't factor into what Viggo sought for in a future victim, but two of the identified bodies and a good amount of the suspected victims are young. Though Hiccup definitely stands out as the youngest of the bunch.

The worst part out of all of this is that Viggo isn't showing the slightest bit of remorse. He got caught and all he shows is a sick sense of pleasure in the knowledge that he and Hiccup will forever be connected through this.

He couldn't even care less about the death of his older brother. All that matters to him, is Hiccup.

Feeling sick to their stomach, Mackle takes their cup and the stack of yellowish folders, each thicker than the last, and leaves the interrogation room. They leave Viggo to wallow in his bad, bad thoughts.

#amow winter whumperland #12wwday.9 #rtte #httyd movies #modern au #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #viggo grimborn #vigcup #one-sided vigcup #tw: rape/non-con elements #tw: implied rape #tw: implied non-con elements #tw: implied non-con #tw: rape/non-con #my fanfics #planned

16 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 9 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: ANGST :D LACK OF COMMUNICATION BOTTLED-UP FEELINGS… This is a little re-cap from Lemon’s pov to fill some blank spaces and now ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO! I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading it! <3

-9-

Somewhere in New York City, two weeks ago.

Lemon was packing her things for the trip, she’d still have to pick Rita up from the airport and refuel before hitting the road. She was already low-key stressed out by the traffic reports when Jan walked into her bedroom.

“Hey, Lemony. Are you still packing?”

“I need to get those things inside my suitcase.” She pointed at the pile of clothing that was still sitting on her bed. “And I want to leave early in the morning to get the most sunlight on the way there.”

“Okay, I’ll help you closing the suitcase, to begin with,” Jan said, trying to help her afflicted roommate.

Once they were done, the blonde was still clearly uneasy about the whole road trip.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know… I have this feeling in my chest… something about all this.”

“Lemz, I told you, you have to cry when you feel like or the anguish is going to blow up when you less expect it.”

“No, it’s not that –although, thanks for the reminder- it’s something else…”

Jan waited.

“I dreamt of Priyanka last night.”

“Oh…”

“It was a weird dream I can barely remember a thing, we were like ten again and we were in the local swimming pool and then we were twenty again… I don’t know.” Lemon sat on the edge of her bed.

“Maybe it’s a sign. Something in your subconscious is taking you back to her.” Jan wasn’t a psychology major but sometimes it felt like she was.

“I… why? It’s been seven years since we last met and it didn’t end well. Why now?”

“Because seven years is more than enough time to heal, I guess. Is she in Toronto?”

“Yeah…” She was never going to admit to Jan that she used her idea of befriending people in social media… many years later.

“Why don’t you drop by?”

“Are you out of your mind? To do what? I show up out of nowhere and say hey wanna hang out?” Lemon sounded exasperated. “Besides, I don’t know if I wanna see her.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “Maybe I don’t… maybe I’m okay with this being the way it is.”

“Girl, you’re not. I know it, you know it, we all know it…”

“No, I can’t go to Toronto. That’s crazy.” She shook the idea off her head. “I’ll go back home and spend some time with my family and then I’ll be back in time for the dance festival in three weeks. It’s planned perfectly.”

“Okay.” Jan, who understood Lemon’s struggles the most, was always supportive when it came to Priyanka. She just patted her back and let her be.

A half-hour later, Lemon drove to the airport to pick Rita up. That night they went out to have dinner at some fancy restaurant in Manhattan –Rita’s knowledge of New York came up exclusively from Sex and the City and Gossip Girl thus Lemon let her live the fantasy for one night. After all, she paid.

They stayed in Lemon’s apartment since Jan was spending the night at Jackie’s and the following morning they woke up before the sun rose on the horizon. Lemon picked some coffee and breakfast from the nearest café open and then they hit the road.

Rita did her best to stay awake but she kept yawning so Lemon let her sleep for a little. In the meantime, she played some music from the CDs on the glove compartment. She started with the ageless Survivor and then switched to Teenage Dream.

Lemon had her car for over a year now and she had become a much more diligent driver during that year. Before she wouldn’t even have considered driving to Canada but after getting used to the traffic in the city and the sound of ceaseless horns and people yelling, the highway was like a child’s play.

Rita woke up when the sunlight hit her in the face, right on time to change the CD again.

“Oh, can I pick the music?”

“Sure,” Lemon pointed at the glove compartment. “there you have a few if you want to look around or the radio…”

“I brought this one.” She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a Taylor Swift CD.

“Rita I didn’t have you for a Swiftie.” Lemon arched an eyebrow. “I’m not the biggest fan but… okay.”

“But she’s really good.”

Bonding trip, bonding trip, bonding trip…

Lemon didn’t know how she ended up listening to a country album but Rita seemed happy while singing some of the lyrics along. She had to admit there were some bops there. Love Story with the Shakespearian references was good, she’d give her that. She was paying attention to the road mostly.

And then it hit her.

Track nº 6 – You Belong with Me.

Lemon was sure she had heard that song on the radio before and seen the music video somewhere –most likely- but she had never truly listened to the lyrics until that moment. The tune was catchy or whatever but the chorus –and the bridge- really resonated with her.

She closed her grip over the steering wheel once the song was over.

“Rita, play it again.” She said, dead serious.

“Huh? Okay…”

The sixth time, Lemon had it. She was almost in tears screaming from the top of her lungs.

Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I’m the one who makes you laugh

When you know you’re ‘bout to cry

And I know your favorite songs

And you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong

Think I know it’s with me

“Again.”

“Lemon, I think it’s time to stop. This is an intervention.”

“I said, play the song again. The bridge really makes me feel something.”

“I can tell…” Rita looked concerned. “I think it’s a good moment for us to switch positions. I can drive for a little.”

She probably fucked Rita’s CD by repeating that song so many times but the echo that it left inside Lemon’s head was like an expansive wave and it reached the deepest, recondite memories of her mind.

She spotted Priyanka the minute she walked into the dining, how could she miss it? Priyanka always managed to draw attention wherever she went and she wasn’t even conscious about it most of the time.

Seeing pictures on someone else’s Facebook wall was one thing but seeing her life had taken Lemon by surprise. She should’ve suspected when she saw Kiara and Scarlett together –and they had seen her too- so it was probably just a matter of time for her to find out as well.

Lemon couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Days prior to her arrival, Lemon had just the normal amount of experiences next to her family, visiting relatives she hadn’t seen in a while, going out to have dinner with her dad, his wife, and Rita, visiting old friends and places from her childhood…

She didn’t expect to meet Priyanka there –just like when she had returned for her dad’s wedding- their paths didn’t cross that occasion and this time was supposed to be the same except it wasn’t. Priyanka was in town and she was there, at the same place at the same moment as Lemon, something she only had dreamt about. Literally.

She had stopped listening to what Boa was saying and in consequence, spilled some orange juice on the denim jacket she had over her dress.

“Oh, shit!” She rushed to grab a napkin.

The girls on the table tried to help her, she removed the clothing item and left it on the table assuring it would dry but excused herself to go to the bathroom for a moment.

Lemon needed to think straight.

Well, no, not that… scratch it.

Lemon needed to think straight clearly.

She could walk directly to their table and just say «hi!» short, sweet, concise… or something like «I just came to say hello» that would give the right idea of her being friendly… right?

She pulled out her phone and called Jan, it was an emergency call.

“Jan… pick up… pick up…”

“Hello?”

“Oh my God, Jan… this is a disaster and I’m gonna die.”

“What? Wait… what happened? Are you okay?”

“Priyanka is here.”

Long pause on the phone.

“Oh, I see…”

“And I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to say or how to act in front of her anymore… and now I’m hiding in a bathroom booth like a vile fifteen-year-old.”

“Lemon, breathe… you need to calm down.”

“No shit… I don’t know if I can do this… what if I fuck it up again?”

“Just say «hi», nothing bad can come from a hi.”

“That was my first choice, thank you… I think I will… wish me luck.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She hung up. At that moment, someone else got inside the bathroom and got in the contiguous booth but Lemon was too immersed in her own thoughts to notice. She walked out, washed her hands, and made sure her hair was looking fine.

Just say «hi». She was going to walk to that table and say hi… It couldn’t go wrong.

Except it did.

Priyanka wasn’t at the table, why wasn’t she at the table? Lemon had just seen her. How was possible that when she finally brought herself to take the first step she wasn’t there? Was she hallucinating? You know what? That was so typical Priyanka never staying quiet for so long in a place and…

Her thoughts started bubbling while she tried to maintain a polite conversation with the other girls. There was one particularly pretty she hadn’t seen around before named Denali, would she be close to Priyanka too? Lemon felt a pang of jealously.

And then, she appeared.

Everyone at the table went silent and when she turned around, there she was.

Taller than Lemon could remember, absolutely gorgeous like a goddess with her long hair and pretty features, it had been a while but there she was, just like she remembered her.

Lemon attempted to smile but it became awkward. She was so nervous she couldn’t say anything…

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She smiled at the people sitting at the table. “It’s nice to see you, guys. I hope we can hang out sometime.” She was about to run away because even when she thought she could do it, she couldn’t.

“Hello to you too.” Those were Priyanka’s first words in all that time.

And then, the rage took over.

Was it so difficult to call her back?

Seven years!

“Oh, so you can speak now…”

It went downhill horribly after that.

Lemon stormed out of the dining, walked a little trying not to show her true feelings, and finally laid against a wall to recover from what had just happened. She let the air out of her lungs and then remembered her bag, her jacket, and her car keys were still inside. Luckily enough, she had brought her phone and rushed to text Rita to get her things.

Her hands were still shaking and if she looked through a window she’d spot her again. There was nothing else that Lemon wanted to do but she also felt the need of kicking and screaming, to do something with all those feelings that she had piled up in her heart.

She needed to clear her mind and, in order to do that, she needed to dance, put her body in motion somehow.

It was time to go out.

Lemon felt the most comfortable dancing and the dancefloor was like a second home for her. There she didn’t need to think much, just feel the rhythm and let her body do the rest.

Naturally, she felt deeply aggrieved when Priyanka showed up to disrupt her sacred space.

Well, it wasn’t that sacred, it was a nightclub or whatever.

Yet, how dared she?

How dared she showing up like that?

How dared she looking that beautiful with that top that revealed her back?

Lemon gulped when no one was watching.

She was with that pretty girl from the other day, Denali.

Wait, what if…?

Priyanka had all the right to date someone if she wanted to and who wouldn’t date Priyanka? She was amazing, funny, so beautiful… Maybe there was a real chance that she was dating that girl –that very attractive girl- and good for them… it was a good thing, right?

Fuck it.

Lemon stole Priyanka’s drink, she needed something strong to numb her senses and erase those thoughts.

The shot gave Lemon a dosage of renewed confidence, she could feel physically her inhibitions abandoning her body. She smirked at Priyanka and stared directly into her brown eyes before heading to the dancefloor.

She lost herself among the crowd, closed her eyes, and let the alcohol take over, making her feel lighter. She danced and danced for the longest time as if she had a pair of red shoes on, going with the flow was something she mastered and she proved it.

She didn’t know how long it had been but when she opened her eyes, she spotted Priyanka on the bar again. A sense of heat ran through her body before the idea she was being seen. Her moves became more calculated, she wanted to put a show for real this time but make it effortlessly like she had no clue like she wasn’t aware of the girl’s presence so close yet so far.

She followed Jennifer Lopez’ instructions in the lyrics of On The Floor.

Dance the night away, live your life and stay young on the floor.

She didn’t care if she was sweaty afterward or how sore her feet were going to be the next morning, she had achieved her goal.

And now she was thirsty which led to the bar and to…

“Ew, cinnamon.” Only Priyanka could like something like the taste of fireball.

Lemon recognized the guy that tried to grope her on the dance floor and of course, she told him to fuck off even when it sounded harsh for Priyanka.

And from moment to another –things were happening too fast- she was drinking tequila with her former best friend from kindergarten.

Lemon stared at Priyanka, her makeup was perfectly done and it looked like an ad for the rest of the night regardless of how much she danced. Maybe she was being biased since Priyanka hadn’t ever looked bad in her eyes.

“That girl… Denali…” Lemon tested the waters at the mention of her name. “is she… close to you?”

She had to know… if she was dating someone…

“I adore her, yeah.”

“Is she… your girlfriend?”

But Priyanka was a little shit who wasn’t going to give her a straight answer to one simple question. Instead, she asked the blonde something else.

“Would you care?”

Yes, she would.

But instead of saying that, her first instinct was to storm out and basically run away as she had done before. She was being a coward, yes, but she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t answer that question, not at that moment, when she wasn’t careful enough with her words.

There was a big chunk of that night that was dedicated strictly to dancing, if her shoes weren’t completely worn out by the end of the night what was the point? But she kept an eye on one girl here and there until she lost it and she was anywhere to be seen.

Lemon didn’t want to admit that she looked around like a lost puppy but that was exactly what she did –she was drunk, okay?- and lonely.

She could only be outside or, in the worst scenario, she had gone home already.

Fortunately, Priyanka was smoking outside.

Smoking?

“There you are.” She said, eloquently to her judgment.

Priyanka shrugged. “Here I am.

There she was, looking all perfect and beautiful and…

If Lemon could only take some courage and put it into words…

Instead, she just pointed the height difference between them.

After that, it became blurry, she probably babbled a little –although she did remember the sound of Priyanka’s laugh and being called a Polly Pocket the next morning- next thing she knew she was on a taxi, texting Rita to open the door so her dad wouldn’t hear her.

And the following morning…

Jeez, she had one infernal headache. The room was spinning and not even when she laid down and closed her eyes the movement stopped. Rita had contemplated poking her with a stick but she had read somewhere that it wasn’t recommended to bother a wild animal on their sleep and it applied to drunk Lemon as well.

Finally, she walked in, it smelled like a liquor store in there and the environment was probably flammable.

“Lemon…” Rita whispered. “I’m going to the mall and your dad and my mom are having lunch with some friends. Are you going to be okay?”

“Mmmh…” She was breathing at least.

“Okay, remember they’re cooking dinner tonight.”

“Mkay…” She mumbled.

“Love you, bye.” She blew a kiss in the air and closed the door.

Lemon woke up what felt like hours later, she forced herself to take a bath. There wasn’t a damn aspirin to be seen in that house and she had already drunk more water than her bladder could handle. It wasn’t the best of the starts but at least she could walk.

When she stopped feeling dizzy, she grabbed her keys and drove to the supermarket because there weren’t Froot Loops either and her morning –morning being a loose term since it was almost noon- was already bad enough.

Not to mention that some idiot was playing around with a shopping cart inside of the supermarket and almost destroyed the cereal aisle.

“Jesus Christ you’re going to kill someone with that.” She clutched her imaginary pearls.

Wait a minute, she knew that idiot.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Priyanka mumbled.

Not now, not with that cranky mood, not with a killing headache, not when she only wanted a bowl of cereal and crawl back to bed.

Of course she was going to tell her to fuck off.

But then…Priyanka picked the cookie cereal and Lemon’s stone heart melt right in the spot. For years, whenever she saw chocolate chip cookies in the aisles of the supermarkets, in cafés, or with freaking girl scouts, she couldn’t help but think about that little kindergarten girl with big brown eyes and crumbs over her face.

And years later, she was in front of her…

Some things might have changed but they felt oddly familiar at that moment.

Priyanka not only had terrible taste in drinks, but it also applied to cars too… because that thing was setting on fire in no time.

Lemon had just walked out of the supermarket, she crossed the street, put her things into the trunk and bought some aspirins but when she was about to leave, she saw Priyanka sitting at the curb under her personal dark cloud… and another dark cloud behind her.

She should’ve left her there, it wasn’t any of her business but… she looked truly devastated.

“Looks like you could use a ride.” Priyanka glared at her.

“Not now.” She blurted out. “I don’t have time for your snarky comments so please refrain from saying anything you’d think is clever.”

Lemon lifted her sunglasses. “I’m not trying to get on your nerves; I’m legit offering you a ride.” Priyanka didn’t seem convinced. “Think for a moment, your groceries are going to go bad with the heat and no air conditioner.”

C’mon Priyanka, think for a moment…

“The ice cream bars…” She was on the verge of tears. “Fine. Yes, I need a ride, would you be so nice and help me out?”

“Come with me, my car is around the corner in front of the drugstore.”

“Buying some aspirins?”

“Cut the slack I’m trying to do a good deed here.”

“For a change.”

She was expecting a comment from the brunette about the fact that she had a yellow car and she did it as soon as they got into the car. What Lemon didn’t expect was forgetting which street led to Priyanka’s house. Maybe back in the day, she didn’t pay much attention but she was sure something had been changed, she remembered the way like the back of her hand… or maybe she didn’t.

It was nice of Priyanka to ask about her family. Lemon’s mother always asked at loud if she had news of the girl to which the blonde replied grumbling that they weren’t friends anymore. She secretly hoped her father would tell her if he had seen her in the supermarket or the street but since she moved to Toronto those meetings became rare… that was part of why she put Jan’s plan into motion.

Because she always missed her.

Then, Priyanka asked about Rihanna… how dared she questioning her impeccable music taste?

Obviously, she liked Rihanna. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Hey, this is the album you gave me before moving to New York, remember?”

“I do… that’s actually the copy I used to have in my room… the one we listened to on my radio.”

Lemon’s hands closed their grip over the steering wheel. That album was one of her most treasured possessions, she had shed giant tears the day it stopped working when the stereo of the car kept spitting the CD no matter how many times she tried it. The box had a permanent space inside the glove compartment.

Having Priyanka sitting next to her, holding it in her hands felt surreal for a moment as if seven years had never passed.

“Why did you keep it?”

Lemon thought about that question. Sometimes simple objects like that were the only link to the past and having them around was like owning a time-traveling machine that took her directly to the memories, that took her back to Priyanka and to that bond that once felt unbreakable.

Instead, she mumbled something about «sentimental value» which was the most generic thing to say.

Now, going back to her house did feel like they were using a time machine. It was comforting to know that some things were still the same there but still, the passage of time was perceptible through photos or little details that Lemon remembered. There were more children in the family pictures and it hit her that Priyanka’s mother was now a grandmother and that Priyanka was now an aunt. How crazy was that?

Back in the day, she couldn’t even imagine her friend taking care of a plant much less a living human being, and still, the photos told her otherwise.

Thank goodness the aspirins were starting to work but even though, that headache wasn’t going to stop her from fighting for that car that her friend –for some reason- loved so much. That mechanic was going to have a piece of her mind, she didn’t care if the car was actually set on fire with flames coming out of the engine, he had to tell Priyanka there was a possible solution to that problem.

All was not lost.

That was what he had said and a phrase that lingered in the air long after. It even made Lemon feel hopeful about the car’s state and considering she had called it a jalopy multiple times, it was something.

“Thank you, Lemon… for helping me so much today. You didn’t have to but still, you did.”

Priyanka’s words made her heart swell.

She started the engine. “You’ve done the same for me no questions asked.”

She knew Priyanka would have.

“Are you feeling better after the aspirins?”

“Yeah… I’m never drinking again I swear…”

“That’s a lie.”

“It is…”

“Do you even remember what you said? Last night?”

The question caught Lemon by surprise. She was trying to rack her brains to find that missing information, one of the endless possibilities of stupid things she might have said while being drunk… chances were…

“What did I say?” She was about to have an attack of some kind.

Priyanka started laughing.

Bitch.

“Priyanka, what did I say?”

Her hands were shaking but she held the steering wheel tighter.

“You called me Sprinky and kept asking if Denali is my girlfriend.”

Lemon breathed again. “Thank God… it was just that…”

Her soul had returned to her body.

“I remember that part, you never answered the question anyway.” She said. It seemed appropriate to bring the question back so she could have a clear answer.

Priyanka sighed. “Denali is my friend. Just that… we’re friends. Are you happy now?”

…sort of…

She was about thirty percent happier… yeah… was it something bad?

And then the conversation went somewhere Lemon knew they would eventually talk about.

“So you know… you know I like girls…”

Lemon could feel the sense of fear behind her words, the what if I’m not accepted? After pronouncing that short sentence, after baring her soul.

Lemon just nodded.

“And are you okay with that?”

She looked at Priyanka. “Why wouldn’t I? Of course I’m okay with that…”

Lemon wanted to scream from the top of her lungs… how could she even imagine that she wouldn’t be okay with it? When she…

“Don’t tell me that on top of you thinking that I dislike Rihanna you also consider myself to be homophobic or an ignorant asshole… that being the same thing.” She spat.

Then, she told Priyanka about Jan and Jackie and she suddenly found herself missing them, wishing her friends from New York could also be there in her hometown, she wanted them to meet Priyanka and her high school friends… having her two worlds collide.

After dropping Priyanka back and seeing her mother again, Lemon left with a sense of warmness over her body. She had spent an entire afternoon with her childhood best friend and they were finally at a point where they felt comfortable with each other to share new things and anecdotes alike like normal friends.

Friends.

A friendship with Priyanka was something she had never expected from that trip back home.

Later that week, Lemon got a text message from Boa asking if she was going to the lake thing she was organizing. Her phone buzzed a second later she read the first message.

«I ran into Scarlett and Priyanka and they’re in.»

Lemon bit her inner cheek. She didn��t care, why she’d care?

Right… they were cool now… they were somehow friends again…

But going into nature wasn’t something she was particularly fond of. She still had a scar from that time her dad had insisted that hiking was a good father-daughter activity. Why couldn’t they plan something like a shopping day? Inside of the mall, with functioning air conditioning… wonders of the modernity like electricity?

“Rita, do you want to spend the day in a lake?” She asked the other girl who was flipping through a book’s pages while sitting on the sofa.

“Sure, sounds interesting.” She said without looking away from the book.

“Ugh. You too?” She slumped on the sofa.

She sighed loudly.

“What’s the matter?” Rita asked, accustomed to her behavior and unbothered by it.

“I don’t know… I’m don’t want to go to a lake but…”

She wanted to see Priyanka.

“Don’t go then.”

“No! That’s not the solution.” She grumbled. “Ah, I don’t know…”

Rita closed her book. “What would cheer you up? Pizza? A movie? What’s that movie you’re always talking about?”

“Mean Girls.”

“The other one.”

“Clueless.”

“One that I haven’t watched before.”

“Oh, you mean Drop Dead Gorgeous?”

“That one… why don’t you go get the DVD or something and we’ll watch it tonight.”

Lemon was about to protest but she just nodded. “Okay… I’ll drop by the video club.”

“And I’ll order the pizza.”

“Can you also order mozzarella sticks?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Lemon got up and walked toward the garage. The door close behind her.

“Now I can finish this book.”

She knew that the greatest film genre a.k.a. the chick flick movie genre was in the same aisle and that the DVD she was looking for was there, somewhere. It was an empty DVD box but she’d take it to the cashier and show her dad’s membership card or so to pay for it.

Lemon had the DVD on her hands when a little kid almost ran over her.

“Wow! Careful there.”

She looked at the little girl in front of her and she had a déjà vu. By a general rule, Lemon didn’t like children –from the distance they were alright but upfront…- she didn’t know what to do with them. However, this kid immediately got her soft side because she reminded her of someone close to her heart.

The little girl with big brown eyes stared at her for a moment. Lemon was paralyzed thinking she was going to cry or something but to her surprise, she just gave her a compliment.

“You’re very pretty.” She said with her adorable voice.

If there was something she liked, it was getting complimented.

“Aw, thank you…you’re very pretty too.”

Wait, was she on her own? Maybe she didn’t find her parents.

Lemon kneeled to get closer to her level. “Are you lost?”

She shook her head.

“What’s your name?” She tried again.

“I’m Melanie.”

“Nice to meet you, Melanie. I’m Lemon, like the fruit.”

“Nice to meet you… Miss Lemon.”

She was going to melt right there.

“Did you come here with your mom? With your dad?”

She shook her head again. “With my auntie.”

“Ah, I see… What do you say if we look for your auntie?”

“She’s right there.” She pointed at someone behind Lemon.

Lemon turned around and met the brunette’s eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh. It’s you, auntie… I should’ve guessed.”

“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” Priyanka smiled proudly.

It was the girl she had seen in the pictures, back at her house the other day and now, seeing them next to each other, she couldn’t deny they looked alike.

Wait for a second, her name was Melanie?

“You really convinced your brother to name his daughter like two-fifths of the Spice Girls, didn’t you?”

Priyanka panicked. She rushed and covered her niece’s ears. “Shhhh… He doesn’t know that yet. It took me seven of the nine months of my sister-in-law’s pregnancy to plant the idea… neither Ginger nor Emma were working, so it was down to Melanie or Victoria.”

Of course…

Then Priyanka sent her niece to get a movie and they exchanged some commentaries about the movie Lemon was about to rent. It surprised her when the brunette asked about the lake activity.

“So… are you going to the lake thing Boa’s planning?”

Lemon shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not that into nature and being eaten by bugs…”

Sounded lovely when she put it like that.

“Oh, so she’s a city girl now.”

“Listen, I spent a good ten years of my life going camping with my dad and hating every second of it. I thought it was finally over when I moved.”

“The girls and I are going… and I’m sure we’re taking some type of booze with us, snacks, a campfire… It will be fun.”

Could it be that…? This was her chance to know.

Lemon tilted her head. “I didn’t know you wanted me to go.” She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Boa said the more the merrier… plus my car is still at the workshop and Scarlett might have screwed up her relationship with the one person that has a car among us.”

“So you need a ride… that’s it?”

Disappointing… Although, she was used to.

“Yeah… and it’ll be fun being all together again.”

“Sure… okay. I’ll tell Rita and we’ll be there.”

“Really?”

Lemon nodded.

Hey, maybe she was right and it would be fun… kind of.

At that moment, Priyanka’s niece returned with a DVD of Brave in her hand.

“Are you dating my auntie Pri?” She asked unscrupulous and unfiltered like any six-year-old.

Lemon almost had a heart attack. She just stared and then looked at Priyanka.

The brunette’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“Mel! You can’t ask people… That’s not… You don’t get to…”

“But daddy said that you like girls and that if you were going to date someone it would be a girl… and she’s a girl.”

Lemon covered her mouth with her hand, she was blushing underneath.

“Mel just because I’m talking to a girl it doesn’t mean that I’m dating her.”

“But she’s pretty… she’s prettier than you.”

“Oh, I like her.” Lemon giggled.

“Hey! You little brat, who’s the one renting movies with you.”

“Why aren’t you dating her, auntie Pri?” Priyanka covered the girl’s mouth.

Lemon didn’t say a word but she’d like to know the answer to that question as well.

“Okay, I think it’s time to go home. Brave, huh? Good choice.” She looked at Lemon. “See you on Thursday…?”

The blonde smiled. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, great.”

“Goodbye, Priyanka. Bye, Mel.” She waved at them.

She had to pay for her movie too but she waited until they left the store to do it. Then she drove back home and informed Rita they were going on a little camping day or whatever.

“Make sure you pack the bug repellent I gotta text Boa.”

On Thursday morning, Lemon drove to Tynomi’s house because she had to pick a cooler. She didn’t know that was the base of operations, almost everyone was already there and they were getting the cars and supplies ready.

“Oh, hey Lemon.”

It was Denali, Priyanka’s friend. Emphasis on the word friend.

“Hi! How are you?” She hugged the girl who seemed a bit startled by it.

“Good to see you again…”

“Yeah.” She smiled at her.

“Actually, good thing I bumped into you. Scarlett wanted me to tell you that Juice and she are going to pick up Priyanka from her house on their way here.”

“I beg your pardon?” She blinked twice. “I’m picking Priyanka, I already told her.”

Denali raised her hands in the air. “I’m just passing on the message.”

Lemon grabbed her phone from her back pocket and marked Scarlett’s number.

“Hello? What’s up?”

“I’m picking up Priyanka. I spoke with her the other day and we agreed on that since her car is fucked and your relationship is fucked.”

“Was… Okay? Juice and I made up. There were roses and everything.”

“That’s adorable, congratulations to the happy couple.” The sarcasm behind her words was strong.

“Priyanka’s house is on the way, we can drive her to the lake… unless…”

Oh, God.

“Is there a reason why you’d want to drive her?”

“No… There isn’t any reason besides I already told her I was going to pick her up. Why is it so difficult to understand? I don’t like my plans to be changed.”

Scarlett dared to laugh.

“I called her earlier so you don’t have to worry about that. I insist though if you had a valid reason to be her driver today I’d…”

“Fuck off. Okay, yeah… I want to spend some extra time with her.” She murmured. Denali raised an eyebrow.

“You could have started there. It wasn’t that difficult, was it?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, Juice and I are driving straight to Tynomi’s. Can you pick Priyanka up then?”

“Yeah… I guess I can.”

“You’re fucking terrible.”

“Wait, since you have an empty space in your car, can you take Rita with you?”

“Oh, so you want some alone time…”

“C’mon.”

“I mean, I haven’t spoken a lot with her but if she’s okay with it…”

“She’s French Canadian, Kiara too, they’ll get along.”

“So you’re playing the language card now.”

“Sure, whatever. Can you?” Lemon rolled her eyes even when she couldn’t see it.

“We’ll take good care of her. Good luck with your little da-”

Lemon hung up before she could finish that sentence.

Denali stared at her, a bit terrified.

“All set.” She had a mischievous smile on her face.

Lemon rolled down her window. “Get in loser, we’re going to a lake… for some reason.”

Seeing Priyanka’s surprise was more than anything she ever wanted. She didn’t look upset at all and that was a relief. Lemon wasn’t going to tell her about all the arrangements she had to do so they could spend some time alone –and she hoped that for their own welfare that Scarlett or the other girls didn’t mention it either.

They didn’t have much time together already with their imminent separation. Lemon would have to go back to New York in less than a week and Priyanka was probably heading toward Toronto as well. They had lost too much already with their silly banters and those minutes were precious on her eyes.

Except, they got lost. It wasn’t on purpose.

And even when she didn’t show it, Lemon started feeling the panic slowly crawling when after their third turn when the stupid lake was nowhere to be seen. It was humiliating that they had to stop and ask for indications but thankfully they got there without any incident.

She was sure Priyanka was going to make fun of her for getting them in trouble and arriving late –which she did- but as soon as they met the others, she did what she did best, shaking Lemon’s little bitter heart.

“Yeah, can you believe I told her the wrong entry on the highway? Lemon almost killed me we were spinning around for like fifteen minutes, right?” She looked at her and winked.

Lemon didn’t know what to do next, her brain was malfunctioning.

“Ah, yeah…” She babbled as she felt her cheeks heating up. “But we’re here… so… it doesn’t matter.”

“Priyanka you dumbass, we’ve come this way before.” Scarlett nagged her.

“Oh, shut up… I forgot.” She picked her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. Lemon hadn’t moved. “Hey, let’s go. We have all day ahead.”

She had to do something, react somehow but she was paralyzed. Priyanka was right, they had all day ahead but she wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to handle it much longer.

“I think we’ve been set up.” Priyanka said when they were both at the boat.

Lemon should’ve guessed it. The way they moved suspiciously and how they had sent Tynomi to casually ask her if she had ever been in a boat before… it was all part of a greater plan to get them in the middle of the lake alone. Suddenly the lake wasn’t all that boring anymore.

For Lemon, that was the moment and the place to talk about what had happened between them, especially since Priyanka had been so open about that horrible story of her first kiss. To think that Lemon once had been mad about the fact she didn’t tell her about it, now she understood, it was bad enough to listen to it, she couldn’t imagine how she felt back in the day and reliving it wasn’t easy either.

They talked for what felt like hours and the conversation flowed avidly once they spoke about the elephant in the room but still, something was missing.

And then she had to put the stupid glasses on. For ages, she had hated being called names because of them and, when she finally convinced her mother to get contact lenses, it was a victory. Now, she didn’t want to go back to it nor Priyanka to see her like that… as if she was a kid again.

“Don’t make fun of me.” She mumbled. “I never wear these in public…”

It was a little plea but she meant it.

“Lemon, I’ve known you for ages I do remember how you look like with glasses on.”

Priyanka took the glasses and opened the temples before placing them gently on her face. She adjusted the nose pads above her nose and removed some hairs out of her face.

“There,” She looked proud of her work. “See, nothing less than stunning.”

When the brunette put the glasses on her face, she knew it.

Priyanka was going to kiss her.

She could feel it on her bones, she could feel it deep inside, her heart couldn’t stop beating fast.

She was going to kiss her, there was no doubt.

But she didn’t… for some reason, in the last second she backed out. Lemon didn’t know why but she could almost swear for her life Priyanka was going to kiss her. She regretted not shortening the distance just a couple of centimeters when she realized, it was too late.

However, now that Lemon had that information… she could take action.

She washed her hands in the bathroom when they were back and looked at the reflection in the mirror. She looked good, just a couple locks out of place and her cheeks a bit red due to the sun but she had Priyanka’s jacket on and she knew what her next step was going to be.

If Priyanka didn’t kiss her first, she was going to kiss Priyanka.

First, she’d take her somewhere they could be alone, -maybe with some silly excuse she’d invent on her way back to the campfire- she’d grab her hand and pull her even if she protested –because she was going to-, there was a cozy spot with a couple of tree trunks cut where they could sit, fireflies were going to start flying around and the buzz of the other people would become background noise. Lemon would pick a fight with her about the first thing that’d come to her mind and when Priyanka was too into it to even notice, she was going to lean in and kiss her to shut her mouth.

It was the kiss she had postponed for so long –years- because above of all, Lemon was deeply, stupidly, madly in love with her best friend since she could remember. It had taken a lot of time to realize that those feelings she had inside were that -love- but now she was confident it was mutual.

That was until…

“I’m being serious right now.” She cleared her throat. “Lemon and I are friends… that’s it. Don’t try to push it further because it’s not going to happen.”

The knot grew on her throat, her eyes were getting watery to the point she couldn’t see clearly; her heart was breaking somewhere inside her and the physical pain almost got her on her knees.

It’s not going to happen.

What a fool… what a stupid, fucking fool she was…

Priyanka didn’t think of her like that and she and her childish crush were nothing more than that, one-sided feelings. Priyanka and she were friends and they were never going to be more than friends. For a moment she had believed it but it was too good to be true.

She wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and put the mask on.

“Hey, do you mind going back with the girls? I was talking to Rita and she’s kind of tired so I’m going home with her.” She hadn’t spoken to Rita and she hated she’d have to ruin the fun for her but she couldn’t be there any longer and that was the excuse that became handy.

“Oh, sure. No problem. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, just tired and maybe sunburn. I don’t want to drive when it’s too late either.” Her voice didn’t break as she lied.

“Alright. Are you still coming to dinner with my family? My mom said she’ll be waiting for you.”

Right. She had promised her mother she was visiting them…

“Saturday, right? I’ll be there.” She smiled. “I’m really glad we got to talk today, Pri.”

“Me too.”

She hugged her Lemon before she left.

Lemon whispered into Rita’s ear she wasn’t feeling alright and with that, the two girls got into the yellow car. They didn’t even get out of the park when Lemon stopped the car. Her knuckles turned white from holding the steering wheel too tight.

“Hey…” Rita reached for her. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, let me drive.”

They exchanged seats without saying a word.

“Would you like me to play some music? I can put some CD on…”

“Just put whatever you want, it’ll be fine.” She sobbed.

Rita put the Taylor Swift album on because it was the first thing that she could find in the glove compartment. Lemon wasn’t in the mood for any kind of music really, but at least that would fill the awkward silence. She didn’t want to talk with Rita, she didn’t want to talk at all… she just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Not her dad’s house, her home back in New York with her friends…

She was too far away.

When track nº 6 started playing, she skipped it without hesitation. She couldn’t listen to those lyrics without going back to her best friend as if she was going to wake up one day and realize… the idea was absurd. How could she ever believe that?

White Horse or Teardrops on my Guitar seemed more fitting.

Fearless, huh? What a joke. She wasn’t fearless, she was a coward who had waited too long.

She didn’t bawl until she touched the mattress of the bed, she didn’t shed a tear until her face made contact with the pillow and she stifled a cry on it. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t pretend everything was fine for any longer.

The tears felt too heavy to be held so she cried and cried until her eyes were dried out.

She didn’t notice she was still wearing Priyanka’s jacket until she tried to wipe the tears off her face with the sleeve. It smelled like her and it kept her warm like a hug. She wrapped herself with the jacket and closed her eyes until she fell asleep.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #lemon #priyanka #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

4 notes · View notes

beyondtheciouds · 3 years

Text

Part 29. 3 of 3

Twas the night before Yulemas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for a small brown mouse.

The children were all snug tight in their beds. Smiles on their faces as dreams of sugared plums danced in their heads.

Outside, the snow fell in droves and filled the streets, impassible for cars and carriages. The windows were frosted; icles hanging like glittering packages.

The brick and mortar chimnies chain smoked; pairs of lungs coughing ashes.

Dust saturated the fresh snowflakes on snowcapped rooftops; heavy as Lucie's lashes.

The moon was nearly full; the fringe of dawn barely a heartbeat. Lucie didn't hesitate getting out of bed when she suspected Henry and Charlotte were fast asleep.

Her secret plans were already in motion; she was in far too deep.

Tonight Lucie and Grace would wake the one lost in an eternal sleep. The anticipation ran through her bones; sidewinding up her veins like an ivy on a chase.

The candles on the Yulemas tree were long snuffed out; the yuletide log smoldering in the fireplace.

The only sound downstairs was the incessant scratching inside the walls. A mouse was hunting about, searching the halls.

The manor was festive; the decor just right. Charlotte had decorated in odd bright colors; glitter and gold balls. A sight to behold, a treasure left scandously untold.

Mugs of cold, sugared tea and burnt biscuits were dutifully set out by Matthew's sisters in hopes of toys being brought.

They were antsy and fought before bedtime. That is, until Lucie sang them a sweet rhyme.

Earlier, Lucie had been filled with warmth as Henry played carols on the pinafore and the girls sang loudly and off key.

She had spent the evening after supper with Cordelia and Charlotte, knitting sweaters for the three.

Now she felt bitter and upset, but the night wasn't over. No, not yet.

The conversations had flowed so easily between the women in the hours before. Lucie had almost forgot the other demands; the baby she tried to ignore.

But the truth was, she was happy to be doing something productive with her hands.

Lucie enjoyed the conversations even if listening to Charlotte was quite the chore.

Tomorrow was Yulemas but Lucie could not have felt less festive.

Yes, the girl Herondale had become rather quite obsessive.

A solid glance over her shoulder gave her courage in the dark. Cordelia was fast asleep on the opposite bed, stiff like chalk.

Lucie stilled, thinking she heard Oscar bark.

Cordelia's back was turned to Lucie; the long braid resting against the comforter like a serpent.

Cordelia was the only one who wouldn't help and the lack of support streamlined Lucie's determination like a torrent.

Lucie felt guilty, like a sneaky child as she opened her door. She crept out into the candle-lit hall ignorant of the consequences her actions might cause.

A familar frown pressed her lips as she closed the door and paused.

For weeks a string tugged at her, knowing that her freedom was slipping through her finger. Each free moment was ready to disappear; the life with a drinker.

Everything seemed doomed; so unfair.

Selfishly, she assumed tonight was only a prelude to the tired life she would soon have living in the walls of Fairchild Manor or worse: Matthew's downtown London flat.

For hours, Lucie had tried to sleep after adjusting the ribbons on an old hat.

She read Cordelia a chapter or two of a mystery book, then finished with a cup of warm milk.

Poor Lucie begged her brain to shut off long after she was wrapped in cotton and silk.

But Charlotte's voice kept droning on in her ears, until her heart was able to tilt.

"I am really happy that Matthew is with you, Lucie. You do know he is trying quite hard to be a better man for you and the baby. You will be quite a good match for my wild child, and quite happy I assure you."

Lucie was uncharacteristically careless in her response. She had only thought about her own wants.

She whole heartedly disagreed before silencing herself much to Cordelia's horror.

Many times Lucie Herondale had tried to imagine being married to Matthew, just for a minute or an hour.

She pictured having a family, a normal Shadowhunter life with him at her side. A family life like her own.

But she just couldn't picture herself being trapped inside. A bird in a cage; her wings barely flown.

She couldn't stay in the net waiting up for him every night. It was just too much to ask.

Worrying. Wondering if tonight would be the night he'd get in a fatal fight or worse; death by her own axe.

How they would feed their family if he died. How would she live, crumbling on the inside. She didn't even have the faintest idea how he felt about women writers or the socially responsible duties they were to provide.

Lucie didn't have a clue how to be a mother or run a household.

This much she'd been told; they'd be wed under the sacred Shadowhunter vows; their bodies marked each with a matching rune.

After they would go on living as two separate people under the light of the moon.

He would conquer binges of weeks where he'd be drunk daily and purges where he would be sick and sober.

She'd stay home; keep house and take care of the children, and he'd lovingly call her his good luck clover.

This would be a cycle that wouldn't end. It would only grow worse with each year; each baby born on the cusp of regret and condenscend.

That didn't mean living with Matthew Fairchild was hopeless as a snowflake in the rain. Perhaps Lucie was wrong. Perhaps Matthew Fairchild was only in pain.

What the cards were showing Lucie now was just a reality she didn't think she could endure.

The truth was, part of Lucie did love Matthew, so much more. When he bled, she bled in her core.

Nightmares and dreams about him had often haunted her into rejecting his previous advances and now she knew why.

She presumed the dreams were omens; warning her not to abandon the sky.

The Fairchild/ Herondale union had been long awaited for by both families, but particularly by the Consul.

Lucie knew what Charlotte expected of her future daughter-in-law was damn near impossible.

Change Matthew. Fix him.

Lucie dreaded every moment spent under the Consul's watchful eye. Every minute she was in Charlotte's company was as unpleasant as a stye.

As Lucie passed Matthew's room, thinking about the last time he'd held a sober smile, she slowed her pace and stopped short. A groaning noise came from within and Lucie wondered if Matthew had overdone it on port.

His door was open just a crack, enough to see into the chaos of his existence; a dream. The stench of stale cigars and regurgitated gin spilled into the hall; hitting her nose like steam.

Lucie gagged and her heart broke at the sight of him laying like a rag doll among dirty linens.

She hadn't expected him to be home and was shocked to see him in such a position.

Lucie had never been able to read Matthew's mind. Now, she wondered if it might have been a good find if she'd had the time.

Her heart had conceded and concluded any type of relationship with him was out of the question.

Being Matthew's bride had never been a suggestion.

She pretended that had been the reason she never reciprocated his feelings. Not until she plainly understood him and his bad dealings.

A well of sadness filled up inside her as she reached out her hand, shining the witchlight into the darkness of the room. The bed was empty except for Oscar, a pillar in the sand.

As usual, the golden retriever was unaware; sleeping loyally ontop of a ragged blanket tucked under his hand.

She shined the light just above Matthew's sleeping body. His arms were spread, legs tucked tight together; a disgusting hottie.

Distracted by the way the light sweat on his chest gleamed pale under the flickering witchlight, Lucie thought about that night. The sweet smirk that swelled on his face was a haunting memory; a sin and a show. One she had hidden in her bones reminding her of a promise she made to him that felt so long ago.

The breeze was cool; the night hot. Cicadas and crickets staged their favorite tunes in an effort to provide a sonata. Not a cloud nor haze flooded the starlit sky; only fireflies lit up the night. Shades of blue from the lake lit her eyes with a warm glow. Lucie watched Matthew with anticipation as her skin grew warmer from every sip of his flask.

Do you love me? Matthew's hot breath on her neck. His lips were fire; hot cinnamon liquor burning her skin with each devious kiss on her flesh.

Yes. Everything would have been yes to him in the heat of that moment. Her hands were beyond confinement and reached eagerly for the buttons on his waistcoat.

Do you promise, Lucie darling? His green eyes were dark, serious under the stars.

I promise. And she meant it. Or she thought she did.

I love you, Lucie Herondale. You're the only one besides James that means anything to me. This is for forever. I swear on my life.

I love you too. Her lips against his were ice on fire; electric and numbing the voice screaming in her head.

Lucie blinked, rolling out of her reverie with the grace of someone used to disappearing into herself.

Matthew was still sprawled out, drool trickled down, out of his mouth.

His hand rested among the fresh vomit and spit on the rug. He was still in his rumpled navy pants and his belt was half undone; broken as the wings of a dead bug.

Stained socks and muddy shoes were discarded in a heap. It was as if he meant to climb in bed and instead just collapsed on the floor, fast asleep.

Lucie wondered if she should wake him; maybe help him into bed or the bath.

Matthew was snoring loudly; the sound sheilding his lips like a mask.

Lucie frowned, watching him and the moment of charity pass.

Matthew stirred and kicked out his leg. He groaned and rolled his head in torment and wrath. "Luce...Lucie. please. PLEASE. Forgive me. Forgive me."

Lucie sighed and flipped the braided pigtails over her shoulders, disgusted and disappointed instead. She shook her head at Matthew, her heart turning to ice.

How could she ever love him like this? The strings of her heart pulled her into a vice.

Lucie knew she wasn't entirely being nice.

At least now she knew Math was safe and breathing. One crisis averted. Now she could stop caring for awhile and continue seething.

Butterflies rolled inside her belly as the baby turned; shifting positions as if it sensed his father's presence and his mother's disgrace.

Lucie tried not to cry as she quickly shut Matthew's door, glad for him to be out of her sight at least for the night.

Lucie Herondale knew she'd be learning a hard lesson in faith.

The manor was cold, bitter like her uncharacteristic temperament. It was just the way Lucie liked things lately; quiet without comment.

The cold made her feel closer to death; closer to Jesse's spirit.

He was quite the opposite of Matthew who had the most obnoxious tendency to be satiric.

She warmed her heart as she thought about the ghost and his quiet, melodic ways. She imagined him in the sunlight; alive during the days.

Lucie became once more determined to save his soul. A debt that was unpaid; a secret not to be told.

Christopher and Grace had snuck downstairs after the lights went out. They were headed to the lab without a doubt.

Christopher thought he might have figured out a chemical compound needed in the spell Grace had shown him during tea and lemon tarts that afternoon.

James promised to guard the door as Thomas occupied the insomniac old housekeeper with a card game and some gin. Every one was in their places; helping Lucie's cause and Lucie shivered, feeling Matthew's hands still on her skin.

A whistle helplessly escaped her lips as she moved down the hall. She felt slightly more optimistic, smiling and all.

Lucie could feel the hairs on her arms rise, theories becoming reality. She felt Grace and her were getting closer to the right order of the specialty.

Goosebumps coated her bare arms as her feet padded quietly towards the music room; the hem of the nightgown billowing around her ankles like a flowers bloom. She tried not to skip like a schoolgirl.

The witchlight she cupped in her hands bounced off the walls; reflecting the contemporary colors in various variations of self portraits and Lucie couldn't help but look down at her hand; Matthew's ring and his pearl.

Suddenly, she was breathless. She stopped; reckless.

Something was wrong.

Someone was watching.

Someone was waiting.

Most of the walls were covered with expensive self paintings. Here and there; scattered were exquisite Idris countryside landscapes which Lucie found intoxicating.

Minature statues and other odd art were strategically placed on pedestals along the walls. Flowers on tables; Oscar Wilde inspired green carnations graced the hall; smelling pecularily of mint and clover during the fall.

This was Matthew's wing and it was freely decorated over. An artist's heart trapped in a body lacking talents. Everything was either beautiful or tragic to him; a man of great gallant.

Nothing was traditional or logical. Should it be to a man of illogical graces?

Lucie noticed the bright green of his eyes in some of the faces. They seemed to move slowly and appeared to be following.

She ignored their name calling as she caught her breath and moved on into the fray. The eerie feeling reminded her of Matthew's favorite legend; Dorian Gray. The fear that story brought back drowned out any other excuse she may have had for being frightened.

Lucie shook slightly as she quickened; her toes were red and numb as her limbs tightened. She scolded herself for venturing this far in the manor for a waste of a shortcut. Down this demented, self loathing hallway she desperately desired a peanut.

She hated that she discarded Matthew's privacy so blatantly. Even moreover her eagerness to meet Jesse hastily.

It had been almost a week since they'd met in private. The time spent apart dramatic.

In all the time she had been in the manor, she had never been in one of the extravagant rooms he uses. He had always forbid it and come to her; insisting she was the favorite among his muses.

Lucie was reminded of the story of Beauty and the Beast, which she found odd and sad at the very least.

Down the stairs, nearly tripping over her feet. Lucie felt a strange tingle on her sheet of skin as she reached the doors to the music room. She took a deep breath and pulled the solid oak doors open and slam against the wall with a boom. "Jesse?"

The moonlight greeted her; pure and silver like a star. Lucie was awestruck by what she saw.

In it's center was a black grand piano; to the left was another Yulemas tree twinking with candles, surrounded with gifts. The branches were strung with gold ribbons and mistletoe adrift.

The shapes of the gifts were shadows on the ceiling; fingers beckoning to the great beyond. Lucie could sense other spirits shamelessly coiling in the dark corners; not ready to move on.

Jesse was tired, trembling and translucent. Lucie felt like she on a boat on the rocking seas. His body was perched on the bench; his hands poised above the ivory keys. His head was lowered; ink stains on the pure, paper skin of his face.

Lucie gasped, parched. She could see he was singing an old Welsh song quietly by the light of a illuminating hearth. She smiled as his fingers instinctively played the tune in the air.

He was beautiful and fair.

Lucie hushed the intrusive and intricate shape of a story taking place in her head. She didn't want to break the moment, but she had to say something to make her heart stop racing and her breath like lead.

"Hello," she whispered to the dead.

#cassandra clare #the last hours #lucie herondale #the shadowhunter chronicles

8 notes · View notes

pips-fics · 4 years

Text

lucy fic, as requested! this one’s about wonsang getting some kind of stomach flu and involves a lot of random headcanons i have about these boys

——

the truth was, wonsang hadn’t been feeling great for the past two days. a moderate headache had become the norm, and everything felt just a tad fuzzier than normal, a tad achier than someone his age should feel. even on his best days, wonsang wasn’t the most clearheaded person, but music was normally an exception to that rule - and yet, he felt so off that yenevara* decided to postpone the production of the new album until the following day in favor of allowing wonsang to get some rest.

they didn’t talk about it, but the whole group knew that wonsang had trouble sleeping most nights. it didn’t usually impact him so much, of course. he could handle it. but, sleep being a basic bodily function, it was only to be expected that he’d have days where his general lack of rest intruded on his abilities to function as a productive human being. the other members of yenevara didn’t question it because wonsang didn’t mention the fact that he in fact had slept well the previous night - abnormally well, in fact. and yet, when he returned to the dorm at 5 pm, he fell back asleep instantly.

his sleep started light and restless - he couldn’t quite get comfortable, and he woke slightly upon overhearing his bandmates when they returned from practicing in the studio. they were loud - well, yechan was loud, the others were more or less normal human beings - and before too long they had their instruments out again. this was typical; they practiced seriously at the studio, and then continued playing with a more variable level of focus when they returned to the dorm, sometimes splitting up to work on their own individual projects. today they quickly dissolved into laughter and groans. wonsang vaguely gathered that someone (probably gwangil) had spilled something in an attempt to create an unconventional instrument. they were very noisy today, but it didn’t bother wonsang too much. he was glad they were home.

he drifted off and then regained a bit of consciousness some time later, still half-asleep, to the sound of voices once again, but this time they were hushed, and much closer in proximity.

“he’s been sleeping here the whole time?” gwangil whispered.

sangyeop hummed, pensive. “he must have been.”

“but how did he sleep through all of that?”

“why was he back so early? wasn’t yenevara working on demos or something today?” the shower started up and wonsang was glad yechan wasn’t in here with the others. as much as he loved their oldest member, he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of being woken up by his consistently chaotic state of being at this specific moment. “do you think he had dinner?”

“we should let him rest,” gwangil said. wonsang felt fingers carding through his hair and didn’t bother trying to figure who they belonged to. someone else’s weight caused the foot of the bed to dip, and wonsang relaxed further as whoever it was pulled off his shoes. he hadn’t even realized they were still on his feet. “he probably just didn’t sleep well last night.”

sangyeop sounded less sure. “i guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

after that, wonsang fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep. he didn’t wake up until late the next morning, when someone (yechan) yelled for some unknown reason (based on sangyeop’s deadpan response of “dumbass,” best guess is he burned his tongue on his coffee. again).

wonsang did not want to get up.

“what the hell is wrong with him?” gwangil grumbled, referring to their violinist no doubt, as he sat up in bed.

“what time is it?” wonsang asked quietly. pitifully, if he was being honest. but here’s the thing: he was exhausted.

“ten-thirty. too early. i’m going back to sleep.”

wonsang nearly started crying. it took everything he had to restrain himself to a faint whimper as he rolled himself out of bed. at the sound, gwangil straightened up.

“hyung? What’s wrong?”

wonsang shook his aching head, mumbling something about the rescheduled production meeting at 11 that he was definitely going to be late for, and trudged towards the bathroom to get ready.

everything seemed to take five times as long as it should have. everything was ten times as difficult. he didn’t bother styling his hair, or even wetting it for that matter - the thought of putting water on his head right now was absolutely repulsive. as he was doing his best to pat it down to a reasonable nest rather than a rather explosive one, he noted the deep bags under his eyes and wondered what right they had to be there when he’d just slept for over 12 hours straight. the light was too bright and he had to put on makeup but he didn’t want to and nothing seemed fair and everything hurt.

by the time he left the bathroom, he was closer to tears than ever.

“wonsangie!” The moment yechan plowed into him, wonsang crumpled to the ground, unintentionally bringing yechan with him as well. “oof.”

wonsang did not feel good. he hadn’t before, and collapsing so suddenly threw him into what could almost be called a state of shock. he could feel that his own eyes were open too wide, getting dried out, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that at the moment. he scooted backwards until he could lean against a wall, then started wringing his hands, keeping them close to his chest. a bad habit.

yechan was staring at him intently, saying something and waving a hand in front of his face, rubbing his arm - probably an attempt to ground him - but wonsang was struggling just to breathe. he could feel things, but he couldn’t feel them, let alone hear whatever questions or reassurances yechan had for him.

“what happened?” the very distinct timbre of sangyeop’s voice brought wonsang back a bit and he coughed, gasping for air and shuddering as his body processed it. he looked up at sangyeop and saw that his eyes were cartoonishly wide as well. “are you two okay?”

“i- i don’t know. wonsang? i’m sorry,” yechan said, almost pleading. sangyeop put a comforting hand on yechan’s head before helping him to his feet, the vocalist quickly filling the spot on the ground next to wonsang and looking him over much more deliberately than yechan had. yechan and wonsang both watched in silence, the prior filled with worry and the latter still a bit shellshocked. sangyeop poked and prodded and gently bent joints and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“hey, bub,” he said to wonsang, taking his hands and massaging them. preventing wonsang from accidentally injuring himself. “you seem to be okay. how are you feeling?”

and that was the end of wonsang’s composure. his hands, numb and clumsy, fumbled around in search of sangyeop’s shirt. upon finding it, wonsang puled the older boy into a limp but encompassing embrace and started sobbing loudly into sangyeop’s shoulder.

he heard sangyeop sigh, but knew it was out of something like knowing compassion rather than disappointment. “hey, what’s wrong, baby? Is anything hurting?”

wonsang shook his head, unable to form words, but calmed his sobs to soft whimpers as sangyeop continued to pet his head. “i feel sick,” he said quietly. sangyeop shifted and wonsang panicked, “hyung, please don’t- please don’t leave!”

sangyeop frowned. “shhh, i won’t, baby, i promise.”

“b-but you’ll get sick, too?” sangyeop was known to be the most health-conscious of the group. usually, if someone was sick, he made a point of keeping his distance, so this response was somewhat surprising to not only wonsang, but also yechan, who was watching on with ever-increasing concern after leaving briefly to retrieve a bottle of water, as well.

“don’t worry about that, wonsangie. as long as you’re okay, i’m okay.” he pet the back of wonsang’s head for a minute before taking the water from yechan and offering it to the sick boy. “can you drink some of this, baby? just a little.”

wonsang made a face but complied, drinking a few sips before stopping abruptly. “my meeting!”

it took sangyeop just a moment to catch on. “yenevara?”

wonsang nodded, then winced at the way his head throbbed. “we rescheduled because i was falling asleep yesterday…”

“i’ll call jihwan!” yechan shouted, then immediately looked apologetic. “sorry, sorry,” he amended, whispering now. “i’ll cancel for you.”

at that, wonsang had to crack a smile. loud and in-your-face was yechan’s default - it was cute seeing him make an effort to adjust right now.

“you’re calling jihwan?” gwangil stepped into the hallway, bedhead nothing short of glorious. he stopped in his tracks. “wait. what’s going on.”

wonsang felt his face heat up in embarrassment. now that the shock had faded, the tears and the collapsing and the having to cancel all felt a little… shameful. sangyeop squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring smile before turning back to their youngest.

“can you help me get wonsang to bed? he’s not feeling well,” sangyeop replied calmly.

“ah, so that’s what was going on!” gwangil wedged himself under wonsang’s arm and helped him to his feet. “hyung, why didn’t you say something earlier? i knew something was off.”

wonsang just shrugged, too tired and ill to explain himself, but gwangil didn’t seem to mind as they maneuvered back to the bedroom. the bed felt 100 times nicer than the floor had, but that was, unfortunately, the only thing that felt good to wonsang at the moment. his stomach felt about ready to crawl up his throat.

“we should’ve gone to the bathroom,” he whispered, all of about 3 minutes after being tucked in. he hadn’t let go of sangyeop’s hand since, but now he did, suddenly requiring both of his own hands to cover his mouth as he gagged, eyes squeezed shut. he heard sangyeop suck in a harsh breath, and then someone was helping wonsang sit up as he retched a second time. he shuddered as he choked back vomit, only to lurch forward with a pained heave that forced his eyes to open and fill with tears.

“hey, it’s okay.” yechan was here and had placed a bucket on wonsang’s lap. wonsang’s eyes darted around the room. “sangyeopie had to leave, bub. you now how his stomach is.” wonsang did know, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. his tears started spilling over as he breathed heavily through the nausea.

“hey, hey. don’t cry, hyung. he’ll be back before you know it.” gwangil squeezed his shoulder. wonsang opened his mouth to protest - he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was better this way, but still, he just wanted sangyeop - but his stomach didn’t give him a chance. with a lurch he bent over the bucket and struggled to breathe through the mess of vomit that spilled from his mouth. somehow, impossibly, the nausea increased and he retched desperately before bringing up more barf. gwangil dabbed a wet rag against his skin and coolness of it was a small comfort.

“you’re okay,” yechan said sadly. whispered. yechan whispering twice in one day? wonsang would have laughed if he didn’t feel so awful. instead he shook his head. he didn’t feel okay at all. he squeezed yechan’s hand and doubled over to be sick again. by then, there was very little left in his stomach and most of what came out was a the harsh sound of his throat trying to reject air. it hurt, but he had no control over his body. finally, a thin stream of bile splashed into the bucket and wonsang took a deep breath. he nearly gagged again at the smell and turned his head away.

“are you done?” gwangil asked quietly, immediately removing the disgusting bucket of sick when wonsang nodded. he leaned heavily against yechan, grateful as the older boy stayed quiet and simply began petting his hair. a moment after gwangil left, sangyeop returned, looking only a tad green. tears sprung to wonsang’s eyes again.

“you left—“ his voice cracked. sangyeop looked devastated.

“i know, baby, i’m so sorry. i didn’t want to make a bigger mess…” he trailed off, lips curving up gently as wonsang pouted and made grabby hands at the older boy. he slid into the small bed next to wonsang and cuddled up close. “there,” he whispered. “better?”

wonsang made an incomprehensible but clearly affirmative noise and sangyeop’s smile grew. the sick boy was already asleep. yechan started squirming under the weight of wonsang’s head, but a single glare from sangyeop stopped him.

“i can’t stay here forever!” he whined softly, hands in the air. gwangil, who had joined them at the foot of the bed, giggled. yechan eyed him. “what?”

“nothing, it’s just… you wouldn’t have let him lay on you in the first place if you didn’t mind it, hyung. you’re a lot cuter when you’re pretending to be annoyed than when you actually are.”

yechan stuck out his tongue. “just wait and see who’s annoyed when we all get sick, brat.”

sangyeop snorted. “you two aren’t making any sense.”

and, well, they couldn’t really say anything to that.

——

*yenevara is a production team including jo/cho wonsang from LUCY, park jihwan (he recently did a cover of my favorite polyphia song on his insta and i—), and o.yeon (she’s so smol and so talented)

note: i don’t love the way this fic turned out, if i’m being honest, but i think it’s just a matter of getting used to writing for another group. hopefully my next lucy fic turns out better XD

——

feel free to send asks!

#sickfic #kpop sickfic #lucy sickfic #sick wonsang #jo wonsang #cho wonsang #gwangil #yechan #sangyeop #tw emeto #kpop emeto #kasjdhfkajshdfk #i hope someone likes this lmao

8 notes · View notes