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edie-baby · 3 years

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Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 2 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Sava woke up on Friday with no intention of getting out of bed before noon. And then realised that she wasn’t in her bed, it was a hotel room. The memories and realities of her current situation made her head spin, and with a shit eating grin on her face, she jumped out of bed and into the shower. Feeling as though she should stay on brand, Sava pulled on a white pleated skirt and tucked the oversized Carlin shirt into the waistband. She braided her hair while it was still a little wet, knowing it would be easier than the kerfuffle she had yesterday trying to walk, carry a helmet, and braid at the same time. Combat boots, a phone, and paddock pass later and Sava was leaving the hotel room to meet Amelia in the cafeteria-like space on the ground floor to have breakfast and chat about the agenda for the day before they headed to the track.

Unbeknownst to Sava, a number of the F1 drivers were staying at the same hotel, and when she stepped into the room, eyes focused on finding other Carlin shirts, many heads turned her way. Obviously, news about a girl in a Carlin race suit with pink hair had spread into the formula one paddock quite quickly. Sava gave up on trying to find her assistant when she had no luck, preferring to make her way to the coffee bench to make herself a very sweet black coffee over ice. While the coffee began brewing, she turned her back to the bench, taking another look out over the crowds of people at tables to try and find her friends again, only to see that 75% of the room was already looking at her, and those that weren’t were whispering to the people that were. The poor girl looked like a deer in the headlights, and apparently one man couldn’t see her like that, as he stood from his table and walked toward her. He was still metres away and Sava was already having to strain her neck to look up at him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bombard you like this while you’re already quite overwhelmed. But I can tell you’re a bit lost. Would you like to come and sit with me until you find your team?” The man asked, his accent was distinctly French, and Sava kicked herself for not instantly recognising the man as Esteban Ocon.

“Oh my, yes please! This is my first time outside of karting, let alone in the actual F2 paddock, so I’m so lost and don’t know anyone.” Sava giggled, finishing up making her super sweet coffee and following Esteban’s stride toward a table of black and yellow clad people, along with the unmistakable grin of Daniel Ricciardo.

“I’m Esteban, by the way. I think I heard your name was Dvarokova?” The Frenchman questioned after a few beats of silence, realising that the 5’1 woman couldn’t walk as quickly as he.

“Ah, Dvorakova. Don’t worry about messing up the pronunciation, I misspell it sometimes. My name is Sava, but pretty much everyone calls me Bunny.” Sava replied with a giggle at the butchering of her surname. She couldn’t blame anyone, it was a hard enough name to most Eastern Europeans, she couldn’t even imagine how some of the nationalities in the paddock would pronounce it.

“Bunny. That’s quite cute.” Esteban mused, and they finally reached the rowdy table of Renault employees.

“Guys, this is Bunny. She’s going to sit with us cause she’s new and can’t find anyone from Carlin.” Esteban introduced, and a round of wolf whistles sounded as she threw up a peace sign, then took the seat next to Esteban, across from Daniel.

“Hi, I’m Danny. You’re such a little cutie.” Daniel introduced, leaning his arm over to poke at Sava’s cheeks that immediately heated up in a flaming blush. Another round of oohs and ahs went through the table and Sava giggled again.

“Pipe down, I’m only 17.” In immediate reaction to her statement, Daniel threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes connecting with a few guys nearby who all laughed at his expression.

“Way to make a man feel like a pedo.” Daniel mumbled, and more chuckles reverberated around the group who heard. The team all spoke to Sava with interest and respect, something she didn’t expect she would be getting before she had even gotten into a car. After about fifteen minutes, she spotted Yuki walking through the door with Amelia, and excused herself quickly, exchanging fist bumps with everyone she passed along the Renault table. When she got to the end, she met Yuki and Amelia with surprised looks on their faces before the three found a small table by the window to finally sit down and eat.

“How ready are you Bunny?” Yuki asked later on that morning while the two pulled their race suits up and made final preparations. Sava looked over at him nervously as she tucked her pink braids into the suit.

“Considering I’ve only ever driven a go-kart or a Hyundai I-20, I’m shitting myself. But I’m confident enough in my karting ability to do well-enough here. How about you? Amelia told me you have a seat at Alpha Tauri next season, are you still nervous about these races or are you a cool guy about it?” Sava hit back, smiling at her first friend in serious motorsport, who she could tell she would miss if she made it into F2 next year like Dr Marko had suggested.

“I still want to do well so that they don’t think they’ve made a mistake. But I’m not as nervous as I was when I didn’t know if I’d have a seat.” The Japanese man replied, and pulled on his balaclava, Sava following shortly after. They made eye contact, their mouths obscured by the fabric, and burst out laughing. Amelia guided Sava away so that she could get her helmet on and have one final chat with the engineer she would be hearing in her ears for the weekend. Yuki ran over just before Sava jumped in the car and slapped the top of her helmet, just like her uncle Sebastian had done before every race and she smiled the biggest she probably ever has. With a quick hug to Yuki and another scolding glance from Amelia, Sava climbed into her car for her first ever free practice in a single seater.

“Radio check.” Sava spoke, her voice wobbling slightly as she felt the rumble of the car beneath her.

“Confirm, Bunny. Hop to it.” Her engineer, Marcus, stated with amusement in his voice. Sava audibly laughed as she stepped on the accelerator, rolling out of the garage when she got the signal. Driving through the pitlane was surreal, and Sava knew she’d be feeling that a lot throughout the weekend. She ran two warm-up laps, getting acquainted with the car and testing the responsiveness of the brakes and the throttle. Once her tyres were at the right temperature, she got a radio message to give it hell, and so she did.

It was complete radio silence in the Carlin garage as everyone, including Yuki, sat and watched the rookie on her first hot-lap. She got a purple first sector, green second sector, and purple third sector, putting herself at the very top of the timing tower. While the practice session had only been active for around eight minutes, she had already beat two other drivers who had put in preliminary hot laps. Marcus relayed the time to Sava, and when she asked for the fastest time out of a qualifying session from the year prior, she groaned in frustration.

“Can I run a few more out laps and get comfortable with the responsiveness? I know I can do better.” Sava pleaded, and Marcus quickly agreed. If she thought she could get a better time than the one she had already given them, then hell they’d let her run all day. After four out-laps, she was brought in for a quick refuel and to look over the data of her hot-lap in comparison to Yuki’s. He was braking later, but Sava was getting better acceleration out of the corners. She knew now just how good the brakes were and considering she was known throughout the European karting scene for braking extremely late, she knew she could get better times, and maybe knock a few tenths off her entire lap. By the time she was finished looking at the data, everyone on the grid had put in multiple flying laps, and she was confident that whatever she pulled out now would be a decent comparison of her speed to the rest of the grid. With two more out-laps to get her tyres and brakes at the perfect temperature, she was off again.

Purple first sector, purple second sector, purple third sector.

As her name flew up the timing table, the Carlin garage waited with baited breath, to finally see Sava Dvorakova land at P1, four tenths quicker than the next fastest, Juri Vips.

“No fucking way.” Amelia mumbled, her eyes trained on the initials of the girl she had been following around for the past two days. Similar reactions were happening over in the Renault garage, many of the team who spoke with the girl earlier that morning tuned in to catch the first performance.

Qualifying later that day followed a very similar pattern. Finishing P2 behind Juri Vips, their times separated by one one-thousandth of a second. The real test was to see if the Czech could keep up the pace in their sprint and feature races over the next two days.

Those boys had hell to pay, and sure as shit, Sava was gonna come collect.

#pierre gasly #Pierre Gasly fanfiction #Pierre Gasly imagine #Pierre Gasly x reader #pg10 #gasly #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic

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snarkybluechristian · 4 years

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Hazbin Hotel: Satan’s Plan Part 17

Back at the hotel, Vaggie was pacing nervously around the hotel lobby waiting for Charlie running over all the paranoid scenarios in her head of what had happened to her. She didn’t even notice when Angel walked past her with Fat Nuggets following behind him.

“Hey, toots,” Angel greeted.

Vaggie, completely lost in thought, did not respond.

Angel stopped in his tracks in surprise. Vaggie usually insulted him whenever she saw him. This wasn’t normal.

“Vaggie?” Angel asked. “Vaggie?”

Vaggie still didn’t respond, so Angel turned away with a shrug and sat himself at the bar in the back of the hotel to see Husk cleaning out a glass.

“Hey, handsome,” Angel said a flirtatious smile as he leaned towards him.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk replied without missing a beat.

“Aw, why you gotta be like that?” Angel asked. “I just wanted to ask if you knew what was going on with Vaggie.”

Husk looked up to see Vaggie pace by and said, “No idea. She’s been pacing like that for the last hour.”

“That’s weird,” Angel replied. “Is Charlie back yet?”

“Nope,” Nifty replied popping up out of nowhere to wipe down the top of the bar before moving on to Husk’s side of the counter. “Charlie has been gone for 53 minutes and 26 seconds. Vaggie’s been pacing for just as long. She must be worried sick. Poor thing.”

“Whatever,” Husk said. “As long as she ain’t botherin’ me, I’m happy.”

“I’m not,” Angel said anxiously picking up Fat Nuggets and placing him on his lap. “Oh, God. I’m starting to get worried, too. Maybe I should have gone with her…”

“Gone with who?!” rang out the familiar voice of the Radio Demon.

Everyone turned around to see Alastor inexplicably standing in the lobby without anyone even having noticed him enter the hotel.

Vaggie stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw him.

“Oh, Alastor, Charlie’s with Sir Pentious,” Nifty answered as she scuttled over to Alastor’s side. “King Lucifer broke the elevator, and Sir Pentious fixed it. But we still needed an elevator box, so Charlie went with Sir Pentious to pick up a new one.”

Alastor froze in place blinking for a second in shock before he replied, “What?”

“It’s true,” Vaggie said. “Charlie went with Sir Pentious to go pick up the elevator and they haven’t come back yet.”

“What?” Alastor said as his features contorted in confusion without his smile disappearing. “But why in the world would she ask for that pompous snake’s help?”

“Sir Pentious is a new patient,” Vaggie said causing Alastor’s expression to fall in surprise again without his smile fading. “He checked in yesterday.”

“You’re not serious,” Alastor replied.

“Unfortunately, I am,” Vaggie said.

Alastor looked at Vaggie and walked towards her saying, “So, you mean to tell me that Charlie checked in that disgusting little serpent without consulting me?”

Vaggie, not intimidated at all by the gesture, replied, “The last time I checked, that wasn’t up to you. That was up to Charlie.”

“Well, all the same, I should have been notified,” Alastor said tapping Vaggie on the nose with his index finger to irritate her and heading towards the door before Vaggie could strike back. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to find Charlie and discuss this matter immediate-…SMACK!”

The door swung open hitting Alastor in the face and knocking him back against the wall behind the door before he teleported himself to the top of the door and sat there silently rubbing his bruised head.

“Hey, guys!” Toulouse said merrily running in as a large group of Egg Bois carried the elevator box into the lobby followed by Charlie, Sir Pentious, and Delilah. “We’re back with the elevator!”

“Where do we go?” Austen asked from under the elevator. “This elevator is really heavy!”

“Oh, my goodness!” Nifty said scuttling to the head of the group. “Right this way, boys! I know exactly where to go! We need to head to the basement! Follow me!”

Nifty merrily scuttled ahead as the Egg Bois ran behind to follow her while the other occupants of the hotel stood there all feeling absolutely dumbfounded except for Vaggie.

“Charlie!” Vaggie called out as she ran into her girlfriend’s arms. “Are you alright? I was so worried.”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said gesturing towards Delilah. “I’m fine. Look, Vaggie. It’s Delilah.”

“Nice to see you again,” Delilah said with a head nod as Sir Pentious slithered past them into the lobby.

“Nice to see you, too,” Vaggie said before remembering what Alastor said and turning back to Charlie. “Oh, yeah. Charlie, Alastor wanted to talk to you about you know who.”

“Oh, okay,” Charlie said. “Where is he?”

“Right here, dear,” Alastor said hopping down from his perch and pushing the door shut from behind. “Charlie, what do you mean by letting that snake in here without notifying me?”

“My apologies, Alastor,” Charlie said nervously before taking a deep breath to help herself sound firmer. “But while you were away, Sir Pentious came to the hotel to check in as a patient, so we decided to let him in as a new patient.”

“Charlie,” Alastor replied with a low, quiet voice to let her know he was serious. “Need I remind you that this snake tried to destroy your hotel only two days ago.”

“I’m right here, you inconsiderate kiss-ass,” Sir Pentious said crossing his arms and looking into Alastor’s eyes angrily. “And if you must know, I was targeting you and Angel Dust, not the hotel.”

“Well, you changed your mind rather quickly, Sir Pentious,” Alastor said with a suspicious smile. “Why might that be?”

“After your beating, I realized that trying to take over Hell was useless, so I wanted to do something else with my time instead,” Sir Pentious replied as confidently as he could muster having rehearsed this sentence in his head and out loud when alone for this very reason.

“And what led you to make such a drastic decision in such a short amount of time?” Alastor asked leaning his face uncomfortably close to Sir Pentious’.

Sir Pentious froze in distress. He had not planned on this question.

“Being a bit unfair, don’t you think?” Delilah asked.

Alastor turned his attention to Delilah who was standing confidently next to Charlie.

“Yeah,” Charlie said backing Delilah up. “Sir Pentious has made huge mistakes, but he has made a lot of progress in the past few days. He sold his territory back to my father. He has been kind to his minions. And, he’s even helping us out with elevator repairs.”

“Not to mention, he gave me a job,” Delilah said defensively.

“Oh,” Alastor said. “That is interesting. And young lady, who might you be?”

“I am no young woman,” Delilah replied with a flip of her short, black hair. “I am at least 3,000 years older than you. My name is Delilah.”

Alastor’s eyes widened in surprise as he said, “Delilah? The Delilah? Why, there’s no way you could possibly be that prostitute from the biblical book of Judges.”

“The very one,” Delilah replied with a sigh. “And you’re the Radio Demon?”

“Why, yes,” Alastor said narrowing his eyes at her. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. It is not often that I get to meet one of the few ancient survivors. What are you doing here if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Alastor, Delilah used to be my nanny,” Charlie replied trying to cut the awkward tension if only by a little bit. “She will be taking care of Sir Pentious’ house while he’s away.”

“Oh, well, isn’t that nice of you?” Alastor retorted somewhat sarcastically. “Will you be staying at the hotel, too?”

“I’ll be visiting,” Delilah replied leering confidently. “As often as Charlie wants. And hopefully, more.”

“Alastor,” Charlie said firmly. “Delilah is my friend. She can be here as much as she wants. Sir Pentious can too, so I’d appreciate it if you would stop trying to intimidate them. Right now.”

“Oh, well, in that case, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” Alastor said completely changing his mood from threatening to welcoming as if the tension of the past few minutes had not happened.

“Thank you,” Sir Pentious said as he turned to Charlie and gestured with his head towards where the elevator was kept. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”

Alastor allowed Sir Pentious, Vaggie, and Charlie to walk past, but he held his arm out in front of Delilah to prevent her from following behind them.

“Behave yourself, Sir Pentious,” Alastor said turning around and narrowing his eyes in a sinister manner. “I will be watching.”

“Whatever, stag,” Sir Pentious retorted with an eye roll.

Alastor waited until everyone had left before he turned back to Delilah with a gentler smile that Delilah responded to with an eye roll and crossed arms.

Delilah finally broke the silence.

“What is it?” Delilah asked.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Angel sat still with Fat Nuggets in his lap and began to listen. Husk appreciated the silence and indifferently went about his work.

“There is something that I’m curious about that I was hoping you could enlighten me on,” Alastor said leisurely leaning on his cane and continuing when Delilah’s expression didn’t change. “Tell me. Can you explain our king’s erratic behavior? I heard from some little birds that there is trouble in the castle.”

Without changing the expression on her face, Delilah scoffed and said, “His daughter has rebelled against him. Of course, Lucifer has been more moody than usual. Contrary to popular belief, our dark lord has mood swings that make him more unpredictable than any other demon in all of hell. That’s hardly newsworthy.”

“Oh, but I disagree,” Alastor retorted. “Our king’s actions have been more erratic and bizarre than usual. He is planning something that threatens to mix up the power balance of hell, and you and I both know what that something is.”

“What does that matter?” Delilah replied allowing her lips to twist into a smirk. “Even if I knew anything, I’m bound by necessity to not tell anyone. You’re wasting your time on me.”

Delilah tried walking past Alastor only for him to step in front of her and say, “I must insist. You do know who I am. Do you not?”

Delilah rolled her eyes and said, “Yes. Yet another ambitious mortal who sold his soul to Lucifer or whoever else in exchange for unimaginable power who’s looking for a way to cancel his debt and become the most powerful demon of this pit destined to be destroyed either by God or one of the other ancient fallen watchers for not knowing their place?”

Alastor paused for a moment as Delilah stared him down with her lips curled into a condescending smile.

“So, it is true what the Bible said about you,” Alastor said. “Your tongue is formidable enough to take down one of God’s judges. But you should know, despite the supernatural origins of our powers, I am no Samson.”

“No, you’re not,” Delilah said stepping around Alastor. “I trusted Samson.”

“Glad to see we see eye-to-eye,” Alastor said stepping in front of Delilah again. “All I want is you to do is answer a few simple questions, dear. I fail to see what the issue is. The king sold you, after forcing himself on you repeatedly from what I’ve heard and from what I’ve seen of the scratches on your back. You have no reason to stay loyal to him.”

“Are you always this charming, or did I catch you on a good day?” Delilah asked with a smirk.

“You can continue to play this game if you wish, but I warn you now,” Alastor said as he froze and static started flying around him. “I always outlast my opponents. It would be better for you to cooperate.”

“You’re telling me to cooperate?” Delilah asked completely unphased as she unleashed the claws on her hands. “Ha. That's rich, child. You think that just because you've managed to beat out some of the older kingpins you can intimidate me? I know who you are. I know what game you want to play and how that might possibly involve my Charlie. So, let me tell you something, honey. I've seen demons more powerful than you fall by the wayside. You'd be surprised to know how much it has happened in almost 3,000 years. You'd be even more surprised to know what hand I've had in making that happen at the right price. I know you aren't the type to feel aroused, but I can still find a weakness. Believe me. So, whatever the fuck you do, don’t hurt my Charlie or I might just expose that weakness and force you to be the next kingpin to watch his kingpin fall.”

“Oh, ho ho,” Alastor chuckled. “If you don’t want to tell me what I want to know, I suppose I will have to use force.”

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” Delilah said standing her ground and staring Alastor down. “First of all, Charlie would never trust you again. Second of all, I’m not as weak as I look. I’ve gathered the essence of many powerful demons over the years. I’m quite strong, probably stronger than Samson was, but unlike you, I don’t flaunt it.”

Alastor chuckled again and said, “Didn’t Sir Pentious tell you what happened the last time he crossed me? I destroyed his toy in one snap.”

Alastor snapped his finger summoning his tentacles from the floor around Delilah grabbing her limbs, holding her in place, and tightening their grip around her.

But to his surprise, Delilah chuckled and said, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Delilah claws grew outwards instantly impaling the tentacles. Then, once they had their grip, the claws began glowing a silvery light and absorbing the tentacles surrounding them causing them to quickly wither as if they were grapes drying into raisins.

“What?!” Alastor shouted out in surprise as the claws absorbed the tentacles withered completely before his eyes.

As soon as the last of the withered tentacles let go, Delilah rubbed her belly and said, “Delicious.”

Alastor’s face fell in total shock and he asked, “How?”

Before Alastor could react anymore, Delilah allowed her claws to grow out until they impaled Alastor against the door. From the other side of the wall where the bar was in the lobby, Husk’s mouth fell open while Angel simply watched intently.

Alastor feebly regained his composure while Delilah stared him down with a sadistic smirk of her own.

“My dear, you are quite strong,” Alastor said with a chuckle that was stifled between coughs of blood. “I’ve never met another demon who could match me besides Lucifer. You are quite the treat. Please do tell me what you want to say. You have my attention.”

Delilah smiled and said, “I will have you know that I will kill to protect my Charlie if necessary. I could torture you until you’re begging to be exterminated so that you may be forced to rest for the fires of the Final Judgement, but that would hurt Charlie. She's moved my heart so much. I think God wants me to give her the chance to move yours. So, what do you say? Shall I let you continue to serve my Charlie without worrying about you trying to harm her or shall I continue feeding on your endless essence?”

Alastor sighed and said, “I suppose I must choose the former. Our exchange shall end for now. Now, I suggest you go follow your master before I change my mind. I won’t be caught by surprise so easily the next time.”

Delilah scoffed and said, “That’s what they all say, hon. Just remember. You’re no fallen angel.”

With that, Delilah retracted her claws from Alastor’s slender frame and waited for him to keel over onto the ground.

“Glad we could come to an agreement, stag,” Delilah said with a smile before she merrily strutted away.

Alastor stood in place healing his bleeding chest and glaring after Delilah until she disappeared.

From the other side of the wall, Angel stared at Delilah with his mouth agape while Husk failed miserably to conceal his laughter.

Delilah smiled at them warmly before she entered the hallway that she saw Sir Pentious walk into.

“And that’s why you don’t fuck with a succubus,” Husk said between chuckles of laughter.

#hazbinhotel #fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #sir pentious

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scaredofthebasement-blog · 5 years

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When Love Walks In - Chpt 15

Auston Has Procedure for New Tube and Dr Quinn Speaks Up for Auston

1405 Words

Warnings: Cursing

Auston arrives in the operating theatre where he’s given a local anaesthetic. Dr Wright completes the procedure to put the Fenestration Tube inside Auston’s throat.

Auston is wheeled back into his room. He sees Dr Quinn waiting for him.

Alex is standing next to Dr Quinn; both women have huge smiles on their faces. Alex is intrigued to witness her brother’s reaction to seeing Dr Quinn.

Catching sight of her aura, Auston feels like his soul has just been ignited. His breath is caught in his throat for a moment. He forgives her immediately. He is so damn happy to see her. He feels alive again.

His mind is advising him to pull back his emotions, let her know he’s not happy with what she put him through these past seven days, but his smile betrays him. His heart is so full of joy and he refuses to give up hope.

Dr Quinn walks over to Auston who, having just been transferred back into his bed, is being attended to by the nurse. She smiles down at a beaming Auston, and for a quick impulsive second, being so happy to see him, dusts her hand gently over his right forearm as she greets him.

“Well, there he is! Good Morning, ‘Bam Bam’, she teases.

Then she queries the nurse, “Julie, You okay? Do you need any help? I’ve got something I need to do, but if you need me?”

Auston melts and tingles a little at her touch but almost as quickly freaks inside, What the actual Fuck?! You’ve got to be kidding me? You just got here and you’re gonna leave?! Come on Man!

Nurse Julie answers, “I should be good doctor. Thanks though.”

Dr Quinn smiles and looks down towards Auston. She notices that his once happy face has faded.

Shit! She determines. He’s sad. The poor guy is sad! Confirming Alex’s concerns she fumes to herself, I’m talking to Dr Wright, now!

“Auston, I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?” She says sweetly but doesn’t wait for him to acknowledge her words. A woman on a mission.

Auston is perplexed as he curiously watches Dr Quinn walk confidently over to where Dr Wright stands in the doorway.

Auston and Alex try to listen in and can hear part of the conversation where Dr Wright tells Dr Quinn about the procedure. She says it went very well.

Dr Quinn is pleased to hear this but quickly changes the subject to what has been bothering her since yesterday. She speaks in a hushed tone, wanting to keep the conversation private. Auston and Alex can’t make out what is being said.

“Ellen, did you happen to notice anything concerning about Auston’s mood this week?”

Dr Wright pauses for a moment to think. “Now that you ask and I look back, Auston was not his normal self. He seemed kind of sad, had low energy and was distant. I didn’t think much about it as I figured it was to be expected considering everything he has been going through.”

Dr Quinn is disappointed in Dr Wright. She speaks respectfully, but firmly, “I wish you had told me about Auston’s mood being off when I checked in with you this week. I understand your focus is primarily with physical recovery, but you must also take into account a patient’s emotional recovery. It’s true Ellen, Auston is in hell, and he’s climbing out of it ever so slowly but he needs guidance. His sad mood should have been a red flag. We need to get our patient’s help when we see red flags.”

Dr Wright respectfully listens as Dr Quinn continues, “Ellen, I received a call from Alex yesterday, telling me her brother has been struggling with his mood most of the week. He asked his family to ‘stop visiting’ for god sakes! We need to be more attuned to such things. We should have been on that right away. Do you agree?”

Although Auston and Alex can’t hear the doctor’s conversation, they can see it, and it looks intense.

Alex observes in a whisper towards her brother, “Dr Quinn is upset with Dr Wright for some reason. Huh, Auston?”

Auston doesn’t say anything. He’s lost in his thoughts as he stares at the doctor’s exchange in the doorway; trying to figure out what’s being said.

He observes, Whatever Dr Quinn is saying, I have no clue, but man it’s hot watching her when she’s pissed! Poor Dr Wright, though. God, I wish I could read lips!

Alex is pretty sure she knows what’s going down. She’s certain that it’s about the call she made to Dr Quinn about Auston’s mood. It was clear over the phone the other day that Dr Quinn was surprised and saddened by the news that Auston was struggling with his emotions, alone. While she feels for Dr Wright, she is very impressed that Dr Quinn is standing up for Auston’s well-being. She shivers from the chills she gets watching Dr Quinn’s assertiveness.

This time, Alex taps Auston’s arm to get his attention and whispers, “She’s something else isn’t she Auston? Pretty hot, am I right, Oz? Huh?... Earth to Auston!” She teases, looking for a reaction.

Auston doesn’t want to give Alex the satisfaction of having figured out his affection for Dr Quinn, so he just hunches his shoulders, nonchalantly. Then to himself, he begs, Fuck! I want to take her right now!

He immediately panics and looks to locate the heart monitor. Huh? Where is it? It’s gone? What the hell?! Whew! Thank God though. Ha! Alex would have had a field day if that thing went off.

Still speaking in hushed tones and oblivious to the stares of Auston and Alex, Dr Wright agrees with Dr Quinn and apologizes for not taking Auston’s low mood more seriously. “Point taken, Quinn. I feel horrible. I can assure you that I do understand the importance of a patient’s emotional well-being. I regret I let my radar slip. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I’ll pay closer attention and alert you in all future cases.”

Dr Quinn places her hand on Dr Wright’s upper arm and says “Ellen, I know that your load is huge. You have been incredible with Auston as well as every patient I’ve seen you help. We all make mistakes. I’ll admit, I make many. We just need to make each other accountable so that we do our best for our patients. I appreciate you hearing me on this and taking it in the way I intended.”

Dr Wright is solemn. “Yes. You’re right and thank you for speaking with me about it. I feel horrible that I dropped the ball, Quinn. Poor guy. He seems like such a wonderful person. He does not deserve what has happened to him. Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Dr Quinn responds, “Yes, sometimes crap happens. We just have to make the best out of whatever comes our way. Sadly, there’s no controlling everything, but we control what we can. No worries, Ellen. Thanks again for being open to hearing me. I’ll speak with Auston and get him the help he needs or at least the help he will accept. I started to address the issue of therapy a week ago, and he was not interested in formal therapy. Maybe now he will be more open to it, or maybe he still would rather just speak with a trusted friend. I’ll find out. I was late coming here today because I was trying to line up counselling for Auston. I wanted Dr Moran, so I called him and begged for him to visit Auston. He said he’ll make himself available when needed.”

“Oh, Dr Moran is a great choice, Quinn!” Dr Wright confirms.

Feeling the urge to tell someone who might understand, Dr Quinn reveals, “Ellen, you said that Auston seems like a wonderful person. What’s odd is that although he can’t even speak, I feel like I know the guy. His personality just oozes from him. I feel like I see him for who he is and you’re right, he is a wonderful person. He’s also very funny. Last week, he had me cracking up with his silly faces and emoji drawings. We have to get this guy talking again! Imagine what we’ll find out about him then?”

#auston matthews #auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagine #leafs #imagine #love story #fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction

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drakewalkerfantasy · 5 years

Text

Flames of yesterday: Chapter 6

Summary: 5 years ago they made a mistake. They were two broken men drinking away their love life issues, and one girl trying to help a friend. What the night leaves them with are two broken hearts and one nearly broken friendship. 5 years later, two are still broken and another one fixed. But what happens when they all meet again? Will it open old wounds and bring all the their insecurities rushing back? Or will it mend the two hearts still looking for warmth, unable to find it after their parting?

Words: 3305

Authors notes: A crossover of Open Heart and the Elementalists, a collaboration series by @drakewalkerfantasy and @fluffy-marshmallow-heart

Ethan x OH MC (Diana)

Beckett x TE MC (Oriana)

**Warnings: medical emergency, attempted assault, violence**

It was already thirty minutes into the game and Ethan and Diana were still making the meaningless conversions and mingling among a crowd of a well-dresses business types. While speaking with a middle-aged woman and listening to her carefully, Diana was attempting to ignore what was happening on the field. After a while she felt a light tap on her shoulder, making her turn her head slightly and smiling, when she saw Ethan holding two glasses full of wine.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he spoke to the woman holding glass of wine to Diana. “But I want to have a couple of words with Dr. Haynes.”

“Ethan, can you give poor girl a break. Let her enjoy the game and don’t bore her with the work stuff you so enjoy”

“Marta, have I ever…” he smiles broadly, but with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I will be fine,” Diana assured Marta before leaving her to enjoy the game.

Moving to the side, she took a glass from Ethan’s hands, their fingers brushing and their eyes meeting. “Funny she thinks you’re going to bore me with work…has she ever listened to herself?” Diana murmured, only loud enough for Ethan to hear her.

A small chuckle escaped Ethan’s lips, and a hesitant smile played on Diana’s lips before taking a small sip of the sweet ruby nectar. Ethan raises his glass in a toast, his eyes glued to Diana’s lips, following the tip of her tongue as it ran along her lower lip, with his eyes dark as midnight. For a moment they stood in front of a big glass window in silence watching the game, neither of them daring to speak. Both too afraid that their voices will betray them, too afraid to give away their feelings. Ethan knew too well that he shouldn’t be standing so close to this incredible young woman, so close that he could smell the faint scent of ocean breeze. So close that he could see the swirls of glittering night black and tinges of silver blue at the edges of her eyes when their gazes met. So close that when she moved he could feel it with every cell in his body, making it buzz with excitement. He cursed lightly under his breath. Trying to remember all the reasons why they shouldn’t be standing so dangerously close but forgetting all of them every time their eyes met, taking his breath away.

“Ethan! Ethan, there you are!” the cheerful voice shouts from across the room breaking them from the haze they were in and returning them to the present. Their eyes land on the boisterous man approaching them with his business partner from the other side of the room.

“That’s them. The Banner Health reps. Are you ready?” he asks in a low voice, his lips pressed into a thin line before spreading them into a forced smile.

Diana was beginning to realize that it was extremely rare for him to smile genuinely, for a smile to actually reach his eyes. She was starting to wonder if anyone other than herself had ever seen it.

“As ready as I can be. But you need to work more on your poker face,” she mumbled to him, putting a bright smile on her face.

Rolling his eyes Ethan smirked at her, his voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want from me? I’m a doctor, not an actor!” When the reps arrived to them, he shook their hands in greeting nodding to them politely.

“Dr. Ramsey, we’re so pleased you could join us today. As I said to Chief Emery during our call, we at Banner Health are big fans of your research,” spoke a well-dressed woman, casting a flirtatious look at him.

“A lot of monetization opportunities there, as I’m sure you know…” the boisterous man added, throwing a knowing look to Ethan. Diana could feel how his whole body tensed next to her, and she could swear she could hear how he gritted his teeth. She discreetly reached for his hand behind his back interlacing their fingers, feeling how he started to relax under her touch.

“Ah… yes,” Ethan replied, squeezing gratefully Diana’s fingers, “By the way, allow me to introduce you to Dr. Diana Haynes. She is one of our most promising young doctors. Graduated as the top of her class and has already proved herself an asset in the hospital.”

Gently removing her hand from Ethan’s with a last brush of their fingers Diana shook their extended hands with a wide smile, perfectly playing her role.

“Dr. Ramsey has already talked me through the main points of our contract renewal. And we are looking forward to discussing the terms to straighten the bond Edenbrook has built with Banner already.” Diana chimed cheerfully taking a lead in conversation.

Ethan’s eyes watched her with awe, impressed how easily she jumped straight into negotiation, pointing out all important aspects of the contract. She guided them to the big sofa in front of the large window suggesting moving their conversation there. Taking a seat near to Ethan, while still continuing the discussion. After a moment, he could feel how Diana’s fingers found his under the table intertwining them not missing a beat of conversation. While he… he could only nod in agreement with something she said, feeling how his breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat. After another hour of negotiation, talking numbers and main points of the renewal they were finally promised that legal would draw up the paperwork.

Ethan glanced over to Diana, still holding her hand discretely under the table. His thumb brushing over her knuckles making her glance down on their intertwined fingers, blushing slightly before clearing her throat after a moment. Something about being with Ethan made her feel bold, strong.

“There is one more provision we want. As you just said we are 35% of your business in the cardiac services field. And it all will be lost if we walk away?” Diana started hesitantly, catching a glimpse of approval in Ethan’s eyes. Feeling more confident she continued. “We want better rates on the cardiac services.” Somehow without any need to ask him, she knew exactly what he wanted from this renewal, but he hesitated just for a moment longer than she did.

“Hm. You strike a hard bargain. But I suppose we can give you an extra three points in reimbursement.” The woman replied, her eyes fixed on Ethan extending her hand to him. Ethan shakes their hands, before they finally depart, leaving just the two of them on the sofa, their drinks on the table before them.

“Nice job squeezing them at the end.”

“We had to get something extra for our patients. It’s our responsibility. Isn’t it?” Diana said, their eyes meeting for a split second, before leaning back on the sofa turning to watch the game.

They sit together while falling into comfortable conversation, slowly sipping the wine and watching the game unfold as the sun sinks lower in the sky. When the game was close to the final stage, something caught Diana’s eyes and she moved closer to the window not realizing that Ethan was straight behind her as the same thing caught his attention.

“Uh, he doesn’t look so good,” Diana noted turning her head slightly toward Ethan, already starting to build hypotheses what diagnosis this guy may have. After a moment of observation, they both could see how the player wobbles, vomiting and collapsing on the mound.

“Let’s go,” spoke Ethan already rushing toward the elevator. “I heard that their physician quit on them before the game…” He started to explain, interrupted by Diana’s amused gasp.

“I thought you said you are not into the sport,” a teasing smile forming on her lips. “And for a guy who isn’t into it, you know a lot about their team.”

“I never said I wasn’t into sports,” noted Ethan pressing the button to the ground floor. “I said today I wasn’t into it. Dr. Haynes, you should pay more attention.”

“I…” she started, before the ding notified them that they have reached their goal.

“Here,” he pointed out to the pub’s backdoor before quickly heading to it, showing his ID card to the guard standing in front of it. With a nod the guard opened the door letting them on the field.

By the time they arrived, the player was already on a stretcher heading toward the locker room…with Beckett helping to hold it. Diana paused a brief second before following them into the team’s locker room.

After setting the player on a table, Diana noticed he was drenched with sweat.

“He has a pulse, but his breathing is shallow.” Beckett informed.

Diana and Ethan both nodded. As Ethan assisted in taking vitals, Diana head over to talk to the coach and another player. After several minutes she returned.

“The coach called 911 when we were still on the field, they’re sending a medi-vac. Should be here in a few minutes. Until then we need to figure out what’s wrong.”

Beckett removed his stethoscope from the player’s chest. “It sounds like fluid build-up. He could be in a lot of trouble if we don’t hurry.”

“Do you always carry around a stethoscope?” Ethan muttered.

“Yes. Don’t you?” Beckett asked haughtily, the tips of his ears red.

“Beckett’s always prepared for literally everything.” Diana added, avoiding her best friend’s gaze.

“Good trait in a doctor.” Ethan nodded.

Beckett rose an eyebrow at how quickly his demeanor changed by a simple sentence from Diana.

Diana continued. “The coach has been in talks with the minor leagues…he’s not cutting it in the majors. There’s negotiations to send him back. He’s been caught hyperventilating, he’s constantly tired, and clutches his back and ribs fairly often. Oh, and he’s not taking any medicine.”

“Hmm. So panic attacks, exhaustion, soreness, fluid in the lungs…” Ethan pondered.

“I’m not a diagnostician, but that sounds like a lot to be contributed to one thing.” Beckett interrupted.

Both Ethan and Diana nodded at him.

“Oh my god…I think I’ve got it!” Diana exclaimed. “It’s a drug interaction!”

“But you just said he wasn’t prescribed anything.” Beckett said, confused.

“Sandburg was already worried about being cut from the team. If they knew he had a medical condition, they’d be even less likely to keep him around. If he already had an anxiety disorder, the high pressure situation was probably making it worse.”

“Like fluoxetine? It’s fairly easy to get a prescription for that…and then he started taking something for his pain.” Beckett agreed.

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows. “Based on his gender and age, it could’ve been something like ankylosing spondylitis, arthritis that affects the spine.”

“Which you treat with an NSAID, like Celecoxib, perhaps. One drug was slowing his metabolism of the other. Basically he was overdosing on what would normally be a safe dosage.” Diana finished excitedly, her face extremely close to Ethan’s as they smiled at each other.

Beckett looked between the two of them. “Uh…wouldn’t that cause irreparable damage to the kidneys?”

Diana’s face fell. “He needs to get to the hospital, now.”

“I hear the chopper, come on. Let’s carry him back out.” Ethan directed at Beckett, who nodded.

“I’ll clean up here.” Diana told them.

Left alone, Diana began to collect Beckett’s belongings that he took out from Oriana’s bag to examine Sandburg. She shook her head smirking, knowing how often Oriana complains about Beckett using her purse like it’s his own. She bought him his own bag once, which Beckett carries to and from work, but out in public he always makes Oriana carry the essentials. Deep in thought, she failed to notice that someone else had quietly entered the locker room and that she wasn’t alone anymore. That was until she felt a strong pair of hands of someone on her hips. Yelping in surprise she turned around, her eyes widening in distant recognition as she placed her hands on the man’s chest. She tried to push him away, backing up from him.

“Kitten, don’t you remember me?” the man smirked backing her further to the lockers. “If not for your friend’s interference we would have spent quite the enjoyable time together. I recognized you immediately as soon as I saw you. It’s hard to forget such a pretty face as yours,” he purred, reaching for her face to brush her cheek, making her shrink back as his eyes roamed over her, undressing her with them, cornering her further.

“Please, let me pass,” Diana said trying to come around him, but unsuccessfully. Panic raising in her chest. “I will scream, if you don’t…” she warned, not letting him to notice how terrified she got.

“Com’mon, kitten. Don’t make a scene,” he made another step toward her, hovering over, his hands on both sides of her. “We both know you want this, just like you did all those years ago.”

"Please, let me pass,” she breathed out, tears welling in her eyes.

“You want…” not managing to finish the sentence before someone’s hands were yanking him from Diana, turning him around.

“You heard her. Let her pass.”

“Who are you?”

"I think it’s none of your business. What should concern you is that she clearly doesn’t want your advances. I would suggest you move on,” Ethan’s voice was calm and cool as steel, echoing in the room. His eyes locked with Diana’s checking if she is alright. He could see that she was still trembling, clearly upset by what was happening there.

“Kitten…” the guy started, turning to face her, stepping back into her space and reaching for her, making Diana squeeze back into the locker.

In an instant, Ethan yanked him back again, his eyes throwing lightning. He could see the man’s eyes clouded with rage as his fist flew toward him ready for the punch, but Ethan dodged easily throwing his own straight to the guy’s jaw, sending him to the ground with one strong precise punch.

Ethan breathed heavily, meeting Diana’s silver moon eyes. The thoughts buzzing inside him practically making him sick and terrified.

What would have happened if I hadn’t come back to the locker room wondering why it was taking her so long to join us back on the field with the helicopter? What would have happened if my feelings for her weren’t stronger than I already thought they are? What would have happened if I had just waited for her boyfriend and her friend instead of rushing in on impulse?

They locked their eyes for a split second before some invisible force pulled them toward each other. Ethan could feel how Diana fell against him, shaking with sobs, her face hidden in his chest. His hands securely wrapped around her bringing her closer, holding on to her as if for dear life. His heart was thundering inside his chest while his chin rested on the top of her head, inhaling deeply her scent of ocean. His hands were involuntarily rubbing her back soothing her, letting her to cry. He let himself forget for a moment that she wasn’t his. Forget that she was someone else’s. She lifted her head to meet his stormy eyes with emotions he won’t dare let himself dream of. His hand instinctively reached out to brush the glimmering drops of tears, lingering gently on her cheek…until they were pulled brusquely from the moment by the sound of the door bursting open, and familiar voices calling for Diana. Ethan quickly stepped back as Beckett and Diana’s friend came rushing in.

“Oh my god, Di! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Beckett whirled on Ethan. “YOU!!”

“No.” The other girl placed her hand on his arm. “Look.” They all looked down at the man struggling to stand back up from the floor.

Beckett’s jaw dropped. “Is that…?”

“David. It’s been a long time.” Oriana addressed him icily.

“You know him?” Ethan asked incredulously.

“He’s my ex.”

“Go get security.” Beckett said quietly.

“Are you sure…”

“We got this. Go.” The girl told him.

Ethan looked back at Diana, who gave him a small nod. He smiled sadly at her before marching out of the room. I guess her knight in shining armor finally arrived.

David rubbed his already swollen jaw, smirking up at Oriana. “My, my. You’re looking delicious as ever, Oriana.” His eyes travelled to her ring finger, then to Beckett. “Seriously? You married the nerd?”

Oriana smiled wickedly. “I did. Best decision of my life. Other than dumping you, that is.”

“This is the second time you have tried to force yourself on my friend.” Beckett’s hands curled into fists.

“Ha! I don’t need to force myself on anyone. Women line up around the block to have time with me.” David snarled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember being one. And Diana, considering she’s practically inside a locker right now, is most definitely not one.” Oriana replied, her tone laced with disdain. “You are disgusting.”

“Maybe if you had just put out every once in awhile I wouldn’t…Auuuugggghhhh!!!” Oriana punched him hard right in the gut, and as he stumbled back she kicked him right in the balls, sending him sprawling back on the floor.

“The punch was for me. The kick was for her.” She turned to Diana. “Or it could be the other way around? It doesn’t really matter, all that matters is your ass stays down, David.”

David grunted in response, cupping his lower region while groaning in pain.

Beckett pulled Oriana flush against him, kissing her fiercely. “God, I love you.”

“Thank you.” Diana said shakily. “Ori, damn girl, you can do some damage.”

“Fucking asshole.” Oriana muttered, glaring at her ex, who was still cupping himself grimacing, a slew of profanities streaming from his mouth.

“Di…” Beckett started, letting go of Oriana and turning back to his friend.

Despite her best efforts, Diana felt more tears on her cheeks. “Shut up, Beckett.” She rushed forward, letting him wrap her in his arms. “And Ori…” She threw her arm out, yanking Oriana into the hug. “I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too.” Beckett whispered.

“I’m so sorry, Di.” Oriana cried too and Beckett felt himself tearing up as well. “I completely overreacted and made really stupid assumptions, I know there’s nothing between you…”

“I’m sorry I ever gave you doubts.” Diana sniffled. “I didn’t even think….”

“No, no, it’s me and my stupid hormones.”

“It was all of us okay?” Beckett cut in, kissing the top of both their heads.

Diana rolled her eyes. “You overreacted the most. Honestly, Beckett, what gives with you and Ethan?”

“I don’t trust him…” Beckett began, but suddenly security was there, picking up David from the floor, the three friends not even seeing Ethan bowing quietly back out of the room, the only thing he heard being Beckett still didn’t trust him.

As everyone exited the locker room, Diana looked around for Ethan…but he was gone. She sighed warily. “He saved me, you know.”

Beckett looked at her questioningly.

“He yanked David off me, and even punched him, that’s why he was on the ground when you got there. He protected me! Defended me!”

Beckett ran his hand through his hair. “I…suppose a word of thanks is in order.”

“That’s it?” Diana asked angrily. “He literally kept a predator off of me, and you only suppose he deserves some thanks??”

Oriana looked between the two of them, sensing the growing tension. “Okay, that is enough, both of you. Di, can you come over right now? This all needs to stop. We should all probably air things out.”

Beckett and Diana both looked at her in surprise.

“Calmly.”Oriana finished.

“Sure.” Diana sighed. “I’ll get my car and meet you there.”

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#open heart #the elementalists #the elementalists 2 #beckett harrington #dr. ethan ramsey #beckett x mc #beckett x oriana #ethan ramsey x mc #ramsey x mc #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #the elementalists fanfic #beckett harrington fanfic #ethan ramsey fanfiction #fluffy-marshmallow-heart #fluffy-marshmallow-heart fanfic

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years

Text

through Rose-colored glasses [one-shot]

The first time Rose ever hears about her new friend Rey's husband is when Finn and Poe tell her that Rey's asked him for a divorce.

Rey and Ben drift apart and then find their way back to each other. Rose watches the whole thing unfold.

I have no idea what this is or where it came from, but at this point that's par for the course, right? Anyway, here’s modern AU Reylo through Rose’s eyes, because I’m a big fan of Rey and Rose being friends.

Also available on AO3.

On Monday, Rose arrives at work only to stumble upon perhaps the most worrying sight she’s encountered in her four months at Resistance.

“Is Rey okay?” she asks Finn and Poe in a hushed whisper, going to painstaking lengths to be as quiet as possible as she settles in next to the woman in question and slowly sets up her workstation for the day. There’s something unnerving about seeing her colleague slumped over her desk like this, face hidden in the cradle of her arms. Rey isn’t exactly the ball of sunshine her office nickname would suggest – her energy levels fluctuate wildly depending on her caffeine intake, just like anyone else – but Rose has never seen her be anything less than completely alert, even that one time they all stayed until midnight to work out some kinks in their project. Old habits, Rey had shrugged when Rose first marveled at her constant sharpness. Some instincts never go away.

Finn and Poe share a long look before the former sighs and tells her, “She’s completely drained. Her husband flew in yesterday.”

Under any other circumstances, that little tidbit of information might have warranted an eyebrow waggle. But Rose isn’t that socially maladjusted – she knows how to read a room well enough, thank you very much – plus she’s way too blindsided to do anything other than ask, “Husband? I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone.”

Come to think of it, there’s a lot about Rey’s life that she doesn’t know, despite the fact that the woman has been a constant source of support for her ever since Rose moved to Chandrila. But it’s one thing not to know Rey’s favorite color; not knowing that she’s married is a whole other beast entirely. “Why doesn’t she ever-?”

Finn clears his throat a little too loudly, bites down on the side of his mouth for a bit before he says, “It’s complicated. She doesn’t like talking about it.”

Poe goes a step further and tells her, “She asked him for a divorce last night.”

“Poe-” Finn hisses in reproach.

“What? It’s Rose. Rey won’t mind,” Poe claims confidently.

Beside Rose, the woman in question sleeps on. She sneaks guilty glances at Rey as she asks the guys for more details, and they paint her a picture of college sweethearts slowly, painfully torn apart by jobs on opposite ends of the country and the stress of a long-distance relationship.

“I think we all saw this coming, but at the same time…” Finn shakes his head and trails off with a heavy sigh as his lips press into a thin line.

“No one could’ve seen this coming,” Poe disagrees. “I mean, this is Rey and Ben we’re talking about. They’re the stuff of fairy tales. If even they can’t make it-”

Rose startles as a hoarse voice beside her croaks, “You do realize I can hear you guys, right?”

Poe jumps slightly and immediately abandons his train of thought as all three of them turn to see Rey slowly lift her head to reveal bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. Rey’s never been overly fussed about her appearance or bothered with makeup, but Rose can honestly say she’s never seen her friend this disheveled – no, not even that one time they all got wasted at Poe’s birthday party and the entire department shuffled into work the next morning with raging hangovers and misery etched all over their faces.

“I’m sorry, Peanut,” Finn says, the first to break the silence. “How are you feeling? Still sure you don’t want me to track the idiot down and-”

Rey winces as Finn pounds his fists together in an unspoken threat, and Poe lands a punch on Finn’s arm, shakes his head at the younger man with a heaviness in his motions that Rose would never have thought to associate with Poe Dameron.

“Don’t,” he hisses at Finn just as Rey abruptly pushes back from the desk and stumbles out of her chair.

“I’m just- I’m going to the bathroom,” Rey mutters, and doesn’t spare any of them a glance before she’s stalking away from the team’s quiet little corner. Her shoulders start to shake before she disappears from sight, and it takes every last bit of Rose’s willpower for her not to run after Rey and offer her help. Rey was there for her when she first adjusted to life in the big city without Paige or any other familiar faces and Rose would do anything to return that kindness, but this is obviously a highly personal situation best handled by the people who’ve known Rey for years.

A beat, and then- “I’ll go,” Finn murmurs, and Rose watches him scurry after his best friend.

“Is Rey going to be okay?” she asks as Poe settles into his chair with a sigh and starts tapping away at his laptop.

Poe stills, and Rose notes the way his shoulders slump with a sinking feeling in her gut. “I don’t know,” he finally admits, and the lost look in his eyes when he turns to her is utterly out of place on her supervisor’s face. “No one does. They’ve been together for so long that it’s completely inconceivable to think of them apart. I think even Rey can’t picture it.”

But she’s the one who asked for the divorce, right? Rose almost asks, but even she knows that’s not how things work. She’s never really been in love, not the kind of love Rey and her husband apparently have, but she knows it’s not something to be thrown aside lightly, not something you can get over just like that. For Rey, who loves her friends fiercely and never gives up on anything, to even consider this…

“Poor Rey,” she murmurs, and vows to do everything within her power to help her friend through this.

On Wednesday morning, she arrives at work for the second day in a row to find Rey hidden from sight.

To improve team coordination and cohesion or something along those lines, the teams at Resistance share a workspace instead of having individual cubicles. When Rose first arrived, Poe likened it to a family all sitting down together at the dining table to help prepare dinner – things just work better when we’re all up to date on what and how the others are doing, he’d shrugged. Besides, it beats staring at a wall all day. But every once in a while, when one of them is working on a deadline, there’s a clip-on desk divider to help them block out the rest of the world.

Before this week, Rose could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen that divider in use since she first started working here, and she’d never seen it in place for more than two hours.

Rey clipped it on sometime after lunch on Monday and hasn’t taken it down since.

When she turns to the guys, Finn merely shakes his head in helpless dismay while Poe gives her one of those sad smiles she’s getting too familiar with.

“Good morning,” Rose says tentatively as she sits down next to Rey, and is honestly surprised when she hears a quiet morning over the felt walls of the divider. A dozen questions come to mind, but she doesn’t push her luck, choosing instead to get right to work.

The team works in silence all morning, the three of them trading hushed murmurs whenever they have to consult each other. Rey speaks up every now and then when it concerns her part of the project, and there’s no doubt that she’s been hard at work behind that divider of hers.

Too hard, maybe.

“She’s always been like that,” Finn shrugs when the two of them head to the break room for coffee. “Throws herself headfirst into work and drowns in it so that she can avoid everything else. I think she wrote the best paper of her life when she and Ben had their first fight as a couple,” he recalls with a chuckle, only to abruptly fall into silence when he remembers the situation at hand.

“Did they…?” Rose asks hesitantly, still trying to navigate the murky waters of office-based friendships and figure out where exactly the line is drawn.

Finn beats her to it. “Fight a lot?” he guesses. “Nope. Before this, I think they’d only ever had two major fights. The one in college was about where they saw themselves in five years’ time, and then there was one about money shortly after they got married – Ben’s always had a lot, Rey didn’t have that much, and they both had strong ideas on how the bills should be split,” Finn kindly explains when he catches sight of Rose’s wrinkled brow. “That’s about it, really. Two fights in seven years. But ever since Ben moved…”

Poe pokes his head into the break room, two jackets on his right arm and a heavy backpack slung over his left shoulder. “Finn, hurry up. We’ve got that lunch meeting with Holdo in fifteen minutes. She wants to meet at Maz’s.”

“Shit, I forgot,” Finn curses, and the two of them bid Rose a quick goodbye before they rush out of the office. She takes her time preparing her coffee, and decides to bring Rey a cup as well.

“Hey,” Rose says gently as she places her own cup on her table, “I brought you some coffee.”

Rey pushes back from her desk and rolls into sight with a soft smile on her face as she reaches for her cup. “Thanks, Rose.”

“You’re welcome,” she beams, happy to note the lack of tear stains on Rey’s cheek. Her next words are a gamble, but– “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve made the worst mistake of my life,” Rey promptly replies before she blows on her steaming coffee. “I know it’s the right thing to do. It is,” she insists, more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. “But…”

Rose turns her chair around to fully face Rey, and does her best to look open and supportive.

“It’s just… It was okay, at first. I mean, it was hell on us and I missed him every day, but I knew he was happy, happier than he’d been in a long time, so it was worth it,” Rey says, a small smile on her face as her eyes grow distant. “Consulting just… fits him. Ben’s always needed instant results to quantify his worth, to prove that he’s bringing something to the table. Working for First Order, incubating and troubleshooting – it was perfect for him… at first.”

“What happened?” Rose asks after a beat, allowing Rey to gather her thoughts.

“Snoke happened,” she declares flatly. “When the time came for Ben to come home, he freaked out, said Ben was wasting his potential here in Chandrila. He offered Ben a huge raise and a significant promotion – too good to pass up on, apparently,” Rey scoffs, an unfamiliar bitterness seeping into her voice. “So Ben agreed and told me it would just be one more year. I wasn’t happy about it, but I didn’t hate the idea either; he was still so happy and fulfilled, and I didn’t want to take that from him. But then the promotion came with more and more deskwork, and the next thing Ben knew he was in charge of management and funding instead of any actual consulting or incubating. God, he’s been miserable ever since.”

Rose frowns. “Then why-”

“Contract,” Rey shrugs. “It was easier for him to just wait the year out rather than trying to mess with the contract. So he did – we did – and then when it was finally time for him to come home, Snoke pulled another fucking card up his sleeve, put Ben in charge of basically half the company. And now…” Rey sighs, and Rose watches her friend wilt right before her very eyes. “Now he’s saying that if Ben stays for another two years, he’ll be on track to become the next CEO.”

One of the guys had mentioned Ben’s company in passing – a multi-million tech incubator called First Order – and Rose knows that’s nothing to sneeze at. Even the possibility of being considered to lead the company is a huge deal. But it can’t be worth the pain in Rey’s eyes right now; nothing could possibly be worth causing that kind of hurt to your wife.

“The thing is, if he wanted this… if he were still happy…” Rey says slowly, heavily. “I’d be okay with it. I mean, it sucks and I miss him so much it hurts sometimes, but if he’s happy then I’m happy, you know?” she shrugs. “But I know he’s not happy, I know he’d be better off coming back here. I’m here, and his family’s here, all our friends are here… our whole life is here, and he’s off being miserable in Coruscant while I’m all alone in the house we bought to raise a family and grow old together in.”

Rey makes a strangled little sound, and Rose realizes that she’s choking on a sob. She reaches forward to take the coffee out of Rey’s hand, puts it on the table before she toes her chair closer to Rey’s and reaches out with open arms.

“Oh, honey,” Rose sighs as Rey falls into her arms, and tries her best to replicate the way Paige cards soothing fingers through her hair whenever she’s upset. “It’s going to be okay, Rey. You’re going to be okay.”

But as Rey breaks down in her arms, she thinks of what Poe told her on Monday and starts to see what he was talking about.

On Friday, Finn arrives at work and heads straight for Rey’s corner with single-minded determination, and Rose gasps as she watches him wrench away the desk divider.

“We’re going out tonight,” he declares. “No excuses, no exceptions. You need this.”

He crosses his arms and taps one foot against the hardwood floor while he stares Rey down, and Rose locks eyes with Poe to find that he’s watching the situation unfold with bated breath just like her.

The seconds tick by, and eventually Poe moves to break the tension when–

“Fine,” Rey gives in with a sigh. “But!” she holds up one finger before Finn can get ahead of himself. “No clubs. No raves. Nothing crazy. I just want to grab some drinks with my friends after a long week, okay?”

“Good enough,” Finn shrugs, and heads to his table. Rose leans over and taps a weary-looking Rey on the arm.

“I’ll keep him in line, I promise,” she assures Rey. “I’m thinking… Cantina?” It’s a bit rundown for Rose’s tastes, and certainly not Finn or Poe’s first pick, but Rey loves the place for some reason and Rose knows she’ll at least feel comfortable there.

“Rose Tico, you’re one of the good ones,” Rey whispers with a smile, possibly the brightest one she’s worn all week, and Rose beams at her in return before they go back to work.

The desk divider remains on the floor where Finn left it, and when the three of them ask Rey if she’d like them to bring anything back from lunch, she actually takes them up on their offer for the first time this week and requests a hearty meal that’s more in line with her usual tastes than the bits and pieces she’s been forcing herself to eat all week.

“I think she’s finally processed it,” Finn says a couple of hours after lunch, the three of them huddled together in the break room while Rey remains hard at work. “I mean, I’m not saying it’s going to be smooth sailing from here on out, but… it’s a start, right?”

Poe shrugs and Rose smiles, and it finally feels like things might actually go back to normal for their little team.

And then a tall, dark-haired man walks into the office and Rose watches in shock and confusion as Poe and Finn drop everything to chase after him and block him from making his way to their little corner, tucked away behind the wall located towards the back of the office.

Rose joins them just in time to hear the newcomer pleading–

“Guys, I need to talk to her, I have to do something-”

“You’ve done enough, Solo,” Finn says with a glare, folding his arms over his chest. He and Poe stand shoulder-to-shoulder as if that’ll deter this absolute hulk of a man – seriously, how does Rey even look at him for extended periods of time? – from pushing past them. It’s an amusing sight, but the show of support for their friend warms Rose’s heart.

The man – Ben, she realizes, the mysterious husband who’s completely devastated her friend – could easily push past them, send them both sprawling with a single shove.

He doesn’t, and she watches in awe as he crumples in on himself instead, his posture slumping into something defeated as his voice drops into a pained whisper. “Please, Finn, I’m here to fix this.”

Poe, who she’s learned is kind of a childhood friend of Ben’s, is significantly gentler than Finn when he says, “There’s only one way to fix this, Ben.”

“I know,” Ben sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “That’s why I’m here.”

It takes a while for Rose to catch up, but when Finn’s eyes widen at the implication of Ben’s words and he allows some of the tension to drain out of him, she realizes the magnitude of what’s going on here.

“Are you saying–?”

“Ben,” Poe chimes in, “did you–?”

“I want her to be the first to know,” Ben answers evasively before he takes a deep breath and looks at Finn and Poe. “She deserves that much, at least.”

Finn nods in agreement. “It shouldn’t have taken this long, man,” he says with a hint of admonishment in his voice, but steps aside anyway.

Ben drops his eyes to the ground as he murmurs, “I know.” Rose is struck by how much he resembles a kicked puppy right now, and suddenly understands what Rey meant when she said she could never be angry with him for long.

“You should never have let it get this far,” Poe adds.

Ben sighs. “I know, Poe. Trust me, I know. Can I please just…”

The two men share a look, and Poe steps further aside to make space for Ben as Finn reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

For no discernible reason, Rose allows impulse to propel her forward and plants herself between Ben and their corner.

“Rose Tico,” she says curtly, sticking her hand out as she draws herself to her full height and squares her shoulders.

“Um,” Ben’s forehead is creased with confusion as he shakes her hand. “Ben Solo. Who-”

“I’m a friend of Rey’s,” she explains. “And she means a lot to me.”

Ben smiles then, a soft thing she recognizes from watching Rey get lost in memories of happier times. “She means a lot to me too,” he says quietly.

It’s adorable – they’re adorable, and Rose can’t wait to squeal all about this once they’ve worked things out and she gets to see them actually be the loved-up couple Finn and Poe consistently describe them as – but Rose pushes the thought aside for later and forces herself to focus. “Good,” she says, a little sharper than intended. “So you won’t hurt her again, right?”

Holding eye contact with Ben Solo is somehow more intimidating than she’d expected it to be, given that all she’s heard about the man has come from either his wife or his close friend, but Rose doesn’t waver until Ben nods and solemnly vows, “Never again.”

“Okay. Good,” Rose nods, and finally allows a smile to break through her tough façade. “Go for it, Ben.”

“Um, thanks… Rose,” he says somewhat hesitantly, but laughs at the situation all the same and throws a nervous smile over his shoulder at the three of them before he rounds the corner.

“Come on,” Poe hisses, and she feels a tug at her arm before she processes that he’s pulling both her and Finn closer to their workspace.

“Shouldn’t we give them some privacy?” Rose whispers as the guys hug the wall and lean forward ever-so-slightly to spy on their friends.

“Nope,” they say in perfect unison, and Finn reaches out to pull Rose forward just in time for her to witness Rey notice Ben’s presence.

“Ben?” she whispers, and Rose strains to pick out the wonder and fear in her friend’s voice as she gapes at the unexpected sight of her husband.

Even more unexpected is the way Ben crumples at the sound of his wife’s voice, just… falls to his knees and presses his face to her stomach. From this distance all Rose can make out is a litany of “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” interspersed with other things she can’t quite catch.

Rey leans forward, curves almost protectively over her husband as she runs her fingers through his hair soothingly. There’s no mistaking when she finally hears what Ben has to say, her sharp gasp ringing out in the quiet space.

She slides down from her chair to kneel on the ground with Ben, and Rose feels happy tears trickling down her cheeks as she watches Rey throw herself into her husband’s arms with a sob. He holds her close, the both of them crying and smiling between kisses, and when Rose hears a quiet sniff it takes her a moment to realize that it didn’t come from her.

“What?” Finn snaps defensively when two pairs of eyes fall on him in disbelief. “I like a happy ending,” he adds, darting a hand up to his face to swipe at his tears.

“You sap,” Poe says with a roll of his eyes, but it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that they’re suspiciously shiny. Finn calls him out on it, and the guys rib each other for a bit before they settle down.

Rose ignores them, and just smiles to herself as she watches the happy couple hold and heal each other.

Would you believe that this was originally meant to be a ficlet?

I've got something planned for Halloween, so hopefully I'll be able to shake off this weird episode soon and get back to my normal writing style in time for that because this is getting ridiculous, really. Amazon reviews? Royals AU? And now this??? Oh well, at least it was fun to explore Rose's POV for a bit. Still a bit shaky on characterization, but I TRIED (and failed).

All the same, thank you for reading and I hope you liked it. As always, please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment!

#reylo #reylo au #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #kylo ren/rey #reyben #rose tico #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #fic: rose-colored glasses #fic archive #my fics

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keldae · 6 years

Text

Anniversary

It was early spring on Odessen. Birdsong carried on the breeze, accompanied by the scent of the trees surrounding the Alliance base. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, warm and comforting to most.

The redhaired woman sitting on a window ledge didn’t feel it. No matter that her little ledge was open to the sunlight and the elements, or that the breeze earned an involuntary shiver -- she felt nothing. She wandered through her own mind, lost in her thoughts, her gaze unseeingly fixed on the small circle of gold she kept twisting on her finger, over and over again.

She either didn’t notice the two men watching her from a safe distance or didn’t care to acknowledge them. One of the men, a tall blond-haired spacer, sighed when he sensed the emotions leaking out from her mental shields. “Yeah, no, it’s a rough day. She’s probably not gonna respond to anything.”

The other man, dark of skin and hair, frowned worriedly and crossed his arms. “She’s only been having rough days since he left. Has she eaten anything today?”

“I dunno. Probably not.” The blond glanced over at his companion. “It’s their anniversary today, Koth…”

Koth swore under his breath. “No wonder she’s so out of it, then. It was only their first, wasn’t it?”

Beside him, Korin nodded. The pranking, jovial spacer was unusually sombre, had been since he’d returned from Umbara without his best friend. “And with their son hidden somewhere that ain’t here, she’s a wreck.”

Koth winced. “Poor thing. Is she talking to anyone?”

“Not even Tee-Seven, and you know it’s bad when she won’t talk to Tee-Seven. Senya an’ Lana both tried earlier, but…” Korin sighed. “She wouldn’t even talk to Dad earlier when he tried to get her to eat something.”

“Anything we can maybe do? At all?”

Korin’s lips pressed together in a thin line as he worriedly looked at his sister. Not for the first time, he was tempted to confide the actual plan to her, reassure her that her husband was trying to save her, not kill her… anything to bring the life back to her eyes, or a smile to her face. But until he and Theron and Lana found the real traitor in the base, they couldn’t risk it yet, and that was eating him alive. He glanced over at Koth and shook his head. “Not unless we can find Theron and drag his sorry hide back here, or make it safe for Daenril to come home. They’re the only two Xaja wants.”

Koth grunted in frustrated acknowledgement, and the two pilots turned back to their worried vigil over the Alliance Commander.

She could feel the weight of her brother and friend’s worried looks. She was grieving, not blind. But she couldn’t look up and acknowledge them. That required strength she didn’t have. All she wanted to do was curl up in some dark corner and hide from the weight of the galaxy that she carried on her shoulders, hide until someone else could be the hero instead of her and make everything right again, without the grand kark-ups she’d caused since the Alliance was formed.

Not for the first time, she thought back through all of her previous choices and tried to find out what had gone wrong. Why had the galaxy revolted against the Alliance like this? Was it her leadership? Had she and Sorand, who’d all but taken over the Commander’s duties in the face of the uprisings while she’d been pregnant, somehow karked something up? Had this been laying in wait under the surface, waiting for Vaylin and Valkorion’s demises before rearing its head to strike? Was it something she’d done during the rebellion, or during the Iokath disaster that had nearly killed her?

Whatever it was, Xaja couldn’t see a way to fix it, and that broke her heart. She wanted Theron back to get answers from him for what he’d done to her -- her father was still convinced the younger spy was acting on her behalf, but Xaja was too afraid to trust that hope. She wanted her baby back with her, safe and sound -- but until they found the answers for Theron’s idiocy, found out more about this mysterious Order of Zildrog, Odessen wasn’t safe for her little boy. Daenril was safest with Satele Shan, and that upset Xaja even more -- not that her mother-in-law was raising her son, no. She trusted Master Satele, had trusted her ever since she was a Padawan. But she couldn’t keep her own son safe, another blow to her pride as the Alliance Commander, to her own sense of self-worth as a mother and a Jedi.

She sighed and pulled back from the window ledge, turning inward to her temporary quarters. Her father had ordered her moved to a different billet in the base, one Theron wouldn’t expect her to be in should he return to finish what he started on Umbara. This room was smaller, but secure, and well-protected. The sunlight from the window should have warmed the cold shards left in her heart… but nothing could touch that now, or so she felt.

Her feet carried her toward the storage cabinet in the room, and she dropped to her knees as she opened the door. There, crumpled in the bottom of the wardrobe, was a pile of red and black leatheris. Some days, she couldn’t look at it without shoving it further away and weeping… other days, like today, she grabbed the wrinkled jacket and held it against her chest like it was a lifeline. She could still pick up traces of Theron’s scent on the garment, the scent all at once breaking her heart again and making her feel almost safe and whole. She slipped the jacket on over her thin shoulders, all but drowning in the oversized coat. When she sat down on the bed and closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was wrapped in Theron’s arms, safe and warm and protected from the monsters that she couldn’t banish from her own mind…

Her jaw clenched in pained grief as she laid down, pulling Theron’s jacket tighter around her skinny frame and tears trickling out from her closed eyes. One year ago, they’d stood on a beach together and slid rings onto each other’s fingers while vowing to love each other forever… now she felt alone and abandoned. Why like this, Theron? she silently cried as she pressed her wedding ring against her lips. Why after you said you loved me?...

Theron was pretty sure that the only two dates to hurt him more than his wedding anniversary were either his wife’s birthday, or his son’s. But he had a goal to bring down the Order of Zildrog before Daenril turned one, or at least make sure Xaja had the information she needed to take down the Order herself. His son was not going to grow up in a galaxy of fear, not if he could help it.

But damn, he wished he was able to make the galaxy safe in a way that didn’t hurt the woman he loved.

It wasn’t enough for him to have the memory of her wide eyes, the expression that looked like she’d just been sucker-punched in the chest, the choked sound of tears in her voice as he left her on the cursed train. Then he’d been an idiot and asked Korin and Lana for updates on her. Lana’s messages had been brief, summarizing the Jedi’s plans and schemes to hunt him down.

Korin’s made him hurt whenever he read them. She’s not eating. I don’t think she’s sleeping. She’s so pale she’s practically translucent. Dad’s worried about her. She hasn’t smiled since Umbara happened. She nearly fainted during morning briefing. We’re all worried. She DID faint during morning briefing today. Finish your op and get out of there. You need to come back soon. Yesterday would be good.

Theron set the shuttle into night-cycle and laid down on his narrow bunk. In the darkness, his deft fingers sought out the secret compartment in the wall, not big enough to hold more than a datastick, or a few credits… or a wedding ring, hidden away where the Order couldn’t see it. It belonged on his finger, not in a small, dusty compartment… and he belonged on Odessen, curled up in a larger bed with the woman who wore the matching ring to his own. Did Xaja still even wear the ring he’d given her, or had she thrown it away, tossed on a powerful Force-throw into the forest?

He closed his fist around the ring and pressed it against his mouth, willing himself to not give a voice to his sorrow and his grief. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but if it kept his wife and son safe, it was worth it… right? His eyes drifted shut as he let his mind wander. Inevitably, his thoughts turned toward his wife and son -- one of them on Odessen, trying to pull herself together to lead a ragtag Alliance… the other one having vanished off the face of the galaxy, and not even Lana and Korin knew where Daenril was. Wherever the baby was, Xaja had authorized it, and that was Theron’s only consolation. And if he couldn’t find Daenril, the Order couldn’t either…

Red hair and green eyes, brimming with tears, filled Theron’s thoughts. He embraced the pain anyway to see this vision of her, like he desperately wished he could embrace her. Xaja…

Haunted hazel eyes filled Xaja’s mental vision for a moment, and grief not her own clenched her heart. She froze, letting the tears trickle unheeded over her pale face. That nudge against her mind, warm and solid as it was… it was familiar. It felt like… no, it can’t be. But who else could have taken over his side of the faint, strained bond they had shared?

She hesitated, then reached back along that narrow thread of the Force, seeking the presence she’d known as well as her own on the other end. For long moments, she felt nothing, and feared that she’d imagined that warm, reassuring presence --

No. That was him, the glimmer of light and warmth that she just brushed up against. Desperately, Xaja reached out before Theron’s presence could vanish again. Theron…

He felt that tug against his mind. His eyes flashed open in shock as the feeling of Xaja (all at once fire and sunshine and sweetness and the refreshing coolness of a new rain) brushed against him, a feeling that he would never have been able to mistake for anyone else. How… she shouldn’t be near enough to feel me. Odessen is several sectors away! And he thought that he had blocked off his end of their bond.

A good spy would have shoved her away, closed himself off and prevented her from feeling him again. For long seconds, Theron wavered, knowing what the mission required him to do. But this feeling of warmth was comforting to him… and then he felt agony that was not his, agony and despair and a grief so sharp, it may as well have been a knife twisting in his chest.

Korin’s terse messages came back to Theron’s mind, and he set his jaw grimly. No matter if he destroyed every single person with ill intent before they could get to Xaja… it meant nothing if she gave up and succumbed to her grief. Theron knew too well how fatal hopelessness could be. He closed his eyes again and strained, reaching back to her as best as he could with his lack of connection to the Force, found her distant presence and clung to her.

He reached back for her. He didn’t shut her out again. Xaja clung right back to him, his warmth mingling with the scent of his jacket around her, making her feel like he was laying beside her instead of somewhere on the other side of the bloody galaxy. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on what she could sense from him.

His mental blocks felt like they were down. Xaja could feel immense sadness from him, and guilt (good, she bitterly thought), and regret, and worry, and through it all a thread of determination. Whatever idiotic idea he had in mind, he was going to see it through.

Her own emotions came racing along the bond before she could attempt to corral them. Pain, heartbreak, grief, fear, anger… She opened up her shielding, letting him feel what he’d done to her. They were far too distant to exchange words, but she could still pass on what she felt.

The guilt and sorrow she felt from him resurged, and a wave of some deep emotion she didn’t have a name for rushed over her, making her feel almost like drowning. Was that… apology? Regret? She tucked it away to analyze later and let her grief rise up again. If she could pass one word to him… Why? she screamed into the Force.

The sudden feeling of fierce protectiveness stole her breath away. She knew that feeling… she’d sensed it every time Theron had guarded her back in a fight, or stood guard over her as she’d fought her way back to consciousness, or come tearing through a pack of faceless enemies to help her. Theron’s… protecting me? From what?

Then she felt a surge of something familiar, and despite her trying to shy away from it, it all but drowned her. Love, love, love. Theron had never stopped loving her, if what his emotions indicated was true. That was the emotion she remembered feeling from him a year ago as he’d kissed her after making his vows to her… as he’d held their newborn son in wonder… as she’d felt from him before they’d taken off for Umbara. That was too deep a feeling to be faked. Protection and love…

He’d confused her and he knew it. Theron winced when he realized just how deeply Xaja must have believed the lie he’d told her, the lie that he wanted to destroy her and the Alliance. As she silently absorbed the feeling of love he’d pushed her way, the spy focused. Holding onto the bond for this long was giving him a headache, but he wasn’t about to drop this fragile connection he had with Xaja. He took a deep breath, letting himself feel hope for the first time in too long. Hope that they were going to win against the Order, hope that he would be able to eventually come home to her, hope that his family was going to survive intact.

Finally, finally, he felt a crack in her despair, felt the slimmest glimmer of her own hope. Joy rushed through him powerfully enough to take his breath away… then he finally felt love that wasn’t his own. Xaja reached back for him, with the same love that Theron remembered so clearly from their nights together before the Order had torn them apart. He smiled despite the tears dampening his cheeks as their bond seemed to strengthen, love flowing between them despite the distance separating them.

And for a moment, he could have sworn that he felt Xaja lying beside him, her warm breath on his cool skin. He didn’t dare open his eyes and break the spell, not when he could envision the feeling of her cold hands against his so vividly, breathe in her scent, and pretend that all was as it was supposed to be. In his mind’s eye, he suddenly saw a room on Odessen, and Xaja curled up in front of him, all burrowed up into his old red jacket, a new scar on her cheek that he realized must have come from leaping away from the crashing train, tear tracks on her too-pale face… but a smile on her lips.

Theron’s grasp on the bond finally slipped, and he felt himself drifting back into himself despite his best frantic efforts to cling to Xaja. I love you, he whispered across the expanse, and prayed that she heard it as his eyes finally opened. His pillow was damp from the tears he’d unconsciously shed while in the trance, and his hand was cramping from how tightly he held on to his wedding ring, but his heart was the lightest it had been since the day he’d abandoned her on Umbara.

Xaja slowly sat up, pulling Theron’s jacket tighter around her. She felt disoriented after holding onto her bond with her husband for so long… but she’d somehow heard his whisper, and knew his words were true. Whatever stupid thing Theron was doing, he still loved her… and she still loved him. The feeling of him laying beside her, all warmth and protectiveness and security, still lingered; she passed her hand over his side of the bed, and was almost surprised to realize it was cold.

Hope settled into her chest, feeling almost uncomfortably light and easy. She hadn’t realized how used she’d grown to the despair that had settled in after the train exploded. Warmth flowed through her, a welcome change from the crippling cold that had plagued her since she escaped the train. For once, it didn’t hurt to breathe, or move, and she almost felt like she could maybe try a smile.

She slipped her wedding ring back onto her finger and stood up, brushing away the last of her tears with the jacket sleeve. The Alliance still needed her… Daenril needed her… Theron needed her. The will to live and fight bloomed in her chest again as she nodded to herself. Curling up and drowning in despair wasn’t going to help anyone, or bring Theron back to her where he belonged. She had an Alliance to lead and an Order to take down.

And somewhere in the galaxy, she had a husband to bring home.

#umbara angst #theron/xaja #you can't tell me Theron wouldn't develop a bond with a FS romanced Outlander #neither one of them deals with depression well at all #Force bonds #hope #mention of The Jacket #angsty anniversaries #and Korin is going to get into SO much shit from his sister when she realizes he's been in on it the entire time

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yumiwords · 3 years

Text

hair of the dog

I peer over the side of my mattress to catch the time offensively flashing on my bedside table. 6.37Am. Too bloody early to be awake with only this amount of sleep in the bank. I ache to sleep more, but I know my body will not allow. It’s had enough, not of sleep but of me, of my putting it through the ringer and sending it to the circus. I’ve made it dress up and paint its face, only to clown around and serve as entertainment to its one faithful audience member. Moi.

Still, I shut my eyes softly and let my body sink into the single person mould in my double person bed, and I try to at least pretend to sleep. Fake it till you make it, that’s what I learnt in high school. Job interviews, meeting strangers, whenever someone asks you how you’re going. Fake it till you make it. I wonder if the rule still applies to the body that is attached to the mind that is doing the faking.

Even if I can only pretend to sleep, at least these minutes count toward the bank of hours of time I’m collecting in which I am not further humiliating myself. The bank’s looking pretty poor. But that’s the thing, right? You spend and you spend because you’re blinded by the sheer novelty that is spending, and you could do this all day, in fact you will, spend the confidence and the bravado and the guarantee of fun that is bought by liquid wealth, and you could spend into the night, so you do just that, and then into the morning, and you just keep spending, until you finally arrive home to find mascara tracks down your face and strangers breath on your mouth and zero dollars in the bank. And then you’re broke, as far as the metaphor goes. But you’re also broke, that is, in the literal sense, because what you thought you were spending were dollars of drunken insanity, metaphorical cash that was earned and spent in the space of a bottle of cheap savvy-b, but they were actually real dollars, so now you’re broke.

Maybe I can just stay here. I’ll forever hate myself more than anyone else can hate me, but at least I find myself tolerable. Maybe not so much tolerable as inescapable, on account of my seeming to follow me everywhere I go. I’ll stay here in bed, I decide, long enough for my friends to forget about the girl who threw up in the gutter last night. Long enough for my hair to fade to grey and the skin under my eyes to sag, not from a lack of sleep but from the abundance of years that sleep has delivered. Enough of them, anyway, that I will be an old lady, the permanency of ageing having brought a change that for some reason I seem unable to accomplish otherwise. I will stay here long enough so that my changed physicality can at least be proof that I am no longer who I was last night, nor two nights ago, nor last weekend. I’m different now, you see! I say, as I point to my thick-set glasses and the curling of my spine. Because for me to change right now, right this morning, will not be enough. I am too close in time to the person I was four hours ago to believe that we are not the same. We look too similar, talk too much alike, people will still mistake me for the girl who got too drunk at the pub.

I pause my game of pretending so to sneak another look at my clock. 6.43AM. It’s almost insulting, the way time decides when and where it’d like to take forever. If those last three years that happened just then was only six minutes, the reality of staying here forever isn’t tasting so sweet.

The way that alcohol pokes holes in my memory is something I used to be grateful to the liquid poison for performing. In high school it meant that re-hashing the events of the weekend on Monday morning brought surprises and storylines and new spins to the nights spent dancing in fields and sleeping on concrete. Everything that was in the mere vicinity of alcohol was funny: the slur of words, the tripping over your own feet, the throwing up, the drinking a litre of vodka mixed with pineapple juice only to wake up five hours later and willingly participate in Sunday school netball. The only thing funny about a hangover now is how many times I’ve promised myself that it would be the last one. It’s laughable, really.

Last night began as only a few people, few enough people for me to arrive wanting to only have one drink and thinking I would mean it. And then some more people arrived, accompanied with more drinks. And then some more drinks arrived, accompanied with more people. And then one of these new additions offered to buy me a drink and I decided then and there that it would be ruder to deny this stranger’s offering to quench my thirst than it would be guilt-inducing to have more than just one drink.

So more than just one drink I had. And had. And had. The wine flowed, the laughs laughed and someone kept topping up my glass. It got to the point in which I figured since I’d broken the threshold of holding off for just one drink, the dam might as well just damn flow. I figured I’d make a night of it.

But making a night of it is only as good as the night in which it exists within. And for some reason, time and time again, I am so willing to sacrifice the tens of hours of humiliating anxiety and intruding flashbacks and apology-ridden texts that follow after just a mere couple of hours of my making-a-night.

Since when did the enjoyment of one night surpass the eternal self-imposed second-hand embarrassment that persists when said night is over?

I want to never be that girl again; I want to no longer be associated with her. I want to bundle myself tighter in my doona like Tutankhamun in his tomb, until my body disintegrates and rots into the earth below and the whole existence of who I am and who I was is the stuff of fossil fuels. Burn me, scorch me, swallow me and then spit me into fumes. If I do have to stay here forever, if I have to isolate from the world that allows me to continuously fall into the spiral of believing I have control over an uncontrollable state of being, then I will.

Yes, I will. I will take a hit for the team and finally do some greater good to humanity. I will stay here and rot and melt and crumble. I will decompose my mind and my body and every other tool that enables me to exist in a world in which drunk-me has also done some existing. There’s a comfort in this idea, in the finality of disappearing, of knowing everything will be ok if I can just stay hidden forever.

But then the sharp buzzing vibration of my phone intrudes this thought. The screen glows to let me know that someone somewhere has bothered to bring the idea of my existence back into my reality. Thanks a lot, person.

I pretend not to look at my phone for the sake of myself, only I do look at it. So, I pretend not to read the message for the sake of my sanity, only I do read it. And so, I pretend not to like what it says, for the sake of the existential hole I have dug myself into in the last ten minutes, but only I do like it. I like the swift opportunity of continual self-destruction, of allowing the walls of this hole to crumble in around me. I like not being able to breathe under my self-imposed insanity. I like gaslighting myself into thinking that I’m unlikeable when I’ve drunk, only for a friend’s extended hand to offer me an escape from this hole, in the form of an invitation to a house party tonight. After drunken shenanigans and loathsome embarrassment, I’m yet still invited to a social occasion. And yes, I like it.

Because ultimately, after assuming my banishment from the entirety of society due to a few too many chardonnays, I guess it’s nice to know that I’m still socially accepted in civilisation. I mean, not only accepted, but invited. Which is nice, I guess. And it would be nice to see some friends, to break the ice of the embarrassment of last night. If anything, it’s always better to rip off the band-aid, so to speak, and see people straight away, even just to let them know that yes, don’t worry, I am just as humiliated as I should be about who I was last night. And that no, don’t worry, she is now deceased. Dead. Gone. Her? Last night? Yeah, she’s never coming back.

But perhaps resting here in peace would be counterproductive. Perhaps, my attendance to a party is the hangover cure I need. You know, getting back on that horse, hair of the dog, what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, all that sort of crap. Besides, I can exist at a party without drinking. I can learn from my mistakes and truly move on from the person I was a mere few hours ago. A party is the battleground state of truth in deciding who I will move forward as, in finding who it is the person I’ll become once I sprinkle the last handfuls of dirt over yesterday-me’s grave. If the length of years I’ve been laying here for this morning haven’t aged me grey and wrinkly, then the emotional pit I’ve climbed out of has. I’m a changed woman, I’m a new girl. Hell yeah, is the text in which my friend will receive, hair of the bloody dog.

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daebakinc · 6 years

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We Make the Kingdom - Pt 17

Image by silverdagger865 Pairing: Yongguk x OC Genre: Fantasy, with Angst and Fluff(but not this chapter) Summary: After a vampire attack leaves you almost dead, you are rescued by a group of werelions, powers long thought to be extinct. Upon discovering the same magic flows in your blood, you join their fight against encroaching vampires and another, very human monster, to save the kingdom. A/N & Warning: Mentions of blood, violence, and some gore. Character death. Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 , 8, 9(M), 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16(M), 17, 18 , Final

The winter solstice. A night whose air is suffused with spices and laughter that seep through tightly closed shutters and constantly opening doors to usher in welcome company. Inside, families and friends lounge around roaring fires to tell stories taller than the flames that keep the cold winter night outside at bay. But tonight, there are no songs, no merriment.

Many houses sit empty, their residents evacuated earlier in the day to the nearest port city in a long column, noisy with the cries of children and lowing of animals. Should the Capitol fall, they will board ships to flee the country. But most of the city’s residents remain behind, too poor to leave, condemned by circumstances to witness the city’s fate firsthand.

With windows lashed shut and homes hushed with fear, they tremble. The fires give as much reassurance as a cloud-covered star. The air is thick with the city’s bated breath as it waits on the brink of its doom which only the Goddess knows. And tonight, She is detachedly silent.

The defenders are quiet as well as they stand before and on the city walls, but they are not gods and can fall prey to unease. Some of the soldiers around you tug at their freshly forged iron collars uncomfortably, but they will be grateful for them in the end. Horses and soldiers alike anxiously fret and shuffle their feet in the cold, armor, weapons, and tack clinking. They are made for the action of marching into battle, not standing still in anticipation of one as they have since sunset.

The stallion beneath you whickers in the same impatience you feel. His snorts send streams of white clouds into the air like a smoldering dragon. Trained for battle, he senses its oncoming and wants to charge into it with hooves flying. You pat his neck and whisper in his ear until he settles down to simply chomp on his bit. Readjusting your grip on the reins, you frown as you roll your shoulders. The golden plated armor, despite its bulk, is not inordinately heavy. Yet it still sits uncomfortably on your body, as does the tight helmet with its high cheek-guards that hide most of your face. You wish you could wear the same light armor the other weres received, ideal for flexibility and shifting back and forth, but to do so would defeat your plans.

Stifling your sigh lest the soldiers surrounding you mistake it for doubt, you look out across the small army again. Calvary borders infantry on both sides, waves and waves of men and women stretched in front of the Capitol’s battlements. If you concentrate, you could find the other weres, strategically scattered amongst different regiments. You can feel Yongguk near the princess in the center of the field, his steady heartbeat soothing your own. Only the bears are obviously visible, royal amethyst tunics covering their armor as they stand in close formation around their charges.

Your own guardians, Hyungwon and Kihyun and Seokwon, sit on their own mounts around your horse, stoically staring into the distance towards the mountains. They lie on the far horizon, craggy black shadows scarcely discernable against the lightless sky. As in your dream, clouds suffocate the stars so no light but the Capitol’s shatters the ominous night blackness.

Lamia chose the time of her ultimatum shrewdly, you begrudgingly acknowledge. Selecting the longest night of the year gives her more time to wage war, more confidence with the threat of the scorching sun rising. It also robs your soldiers of their sight, or would have if a clever scholar had not suggested a solution. You glance back at the walls with a small smile. In between the catapults, bright fires in enormous braziers burn all along the battlement beside carefully placed, magically enhanced mirrors that are angled to flood the plain with light. Let Lamia make what she will of that when she comes.

You begin wondering what she is waiting for. Though still hours away, dawn approaches with each minute and with it she loses her advantage. Unless she counts on the clouds to prolong the cover of darkness.

You notice the soldiers growing even more restless. Perhaps, her failure to appear is another cunning tactic. Though the soldiers’ faces do not betray them, they are afraid to face creatures they only yesterday thought were the stuff of children’s stories. Each minute they do not see the enemy for themselves is time for the dread and monstrosity of the vampires to grow in their minds, infect them with potentially deadly fear.

A piercing horn blasts its warning into the night, sending every soldier’s head snapping up. The enemy is coming.

A second blowing directs your gaze to the north. When discussing how Lamia and her army could approach the city, one of the scholars, who possessed earth elemental magic, pointed to the mountains. Deep beneath the earth lie series of soaring caves that extend the length of the mountain chain with various chambers that rise to open to the surface. They would provide perfect passage for vampires to easily come within a few hundred kilometers of the Capitol. Following this logic, Princess Hyosung had set those in the city who could scry to sweeping the mountainsides for signs of the vampires.

It would seem your prediction was well-founded, but time passes, and the landscape remains unchanged.

“Come on,” you mutter under your breath. Your heart pounds in your ears in anticipation while every sense strains for the slightest sign of Lamia.

At last, the wind carries the familiar musty scent of grave dirt and blood, along with the macabre hisses of vampires eager for a feeding. A few horses away from you, Junhong growls deep in his throat. The bears shift in their saddles, looking to you.

“Is that..?” Hyungwon lets his already quiet voice trail off.

Their faces harden at your small nod of confirmation and they turn back towards the mountains.

A black mass quickly materializes from night, roiling and ravenously devouring the distance. Horses whicker and prance at the foreign smell they instantly identify as a predator. As the vampires come within human eyesight, a ripple of shouts and cries arises from the soldiers, but their officers and discipline quickly silence them. You intentionally keep your expression empty except for your iron resolve as you feel many soldiers glancing at you, one of the few they know to have faced vampires before. However, you do not have long to linger on maintaining appearances.

The approaching vampires demand your attention. There is no order in their ranks. Each fights to reach the mass of humans first, rabid dogs shoving and snarling each other. The vampires run on bare or raggedly shoed feet as if the freezing ground is nothing, closer and closer. You can make out vampires with ghoulish, gray faces skeletal with hunger alongside the well-fed, cruelly beautiful whose eyes blaze with the same blood madness. Most clutch ragged-edged swords, but some bear nothing more than their teeth.

A quick sweep sends your heart plunging into your stomach. The vampires number in the hundreds, possibly the thousands. Less than you feared, but still more than you hoped. Your chances of winning are decreasing before your eyes.

You straighten your shoulders and let out a breath. In the hours before assembling with the army, still safe in Yongguk’s arms, you had come to terms with the possibility of your end. You will not be afraid. You are not afraid. Nervous, but not afraid. If it saves your people, you will make your sacrifice alongside your friends and send as many vampires as you can to their second and final graves.

The horde halts on the edge of the sea of light from the mirrors. They grimace and hiss and shriek like the high mountain winds, terrible and inhuman. To your army’s credit, not a man or woman makes a move to abandon their post despite their fear that fills your nose.

As if sliced by an executioner’s sword, all noise stops. In waves, the vampires’ lines slowly part. You smell her before she emerges to the front of the army.

Lamia wears a blood-red lacquered breastplate and armguards over the black dress she wore in your dream along with her crown. A longsword with a ruby-set hilt sits on her hip. Her teeth shine ivory against her blood red lips. Those lips curve in a haughty smile as she surveys the humans in front of her. Before you can exhale, she is in the center of the field, an arrow’s flight away from the kingdom’s snapping standard. Murmurs of awed alarm ripple through the troops at their first glimpse of a vampire.

“Who speaks for this rabble?” Lamia asks, her seductive purr loud as a shout. She shows no sign of the light affecting her.

From within the ranks of the center infantry, wearing the crowned helmet, Hyosung pushes her horse forward. Voice clear and strong, she answers, “I, the princess of this land, do.”

Another rider comes forward from the eastern cavalry, the mirror image of the princess. “I, the princess of this land, do,” she calls in the same voice.

With a deep breath, you knee your stallion past your guard. When your mouth moves, it is not your own voice that comes forth, but Hyosung’s. “I, the princess of this land, do.”

Lamia’s eyes dart between the three of you, her lip lifting infinitesimally in and impulsive reveal of frustration. Her nose wrinkles as she tries to catch a scent, but your borrowed clothes cloak your smell. Your heart beats faster. Using magic to change your voice had been a gamble, but it is working.

The sneer quickly returns to Lamia’s face. “Very clever,” she says with an exaggerated clap. “But it is no matter. The earth will be covered by all of your blood, royal or no. Unless, you choose wisely and surrender now.”

“If we do as you say?” asks the Hyosung opposite you

“First, you will turn the weres over to me as your uncle so promised. Then, you must accept me as your ruler forever more and live out your days under my reign.” Lamia’s voice is cajoling and smooth, full of benevolent promises to move the stone-hearted. “I will not stay in your kingdom long for the whole world awaits my coming. You will live in peace and plenty so long as you provide tribute and loyalty to me.”

An undignified snort escapes your mouth, but you faithfully move your mouth as Hyosung’s instrument. “A tribute in flesh and blood, no doubt. One that will be doubled and tripled to fuel your unending evil.”

Lamia shrugs, not denying Hyosung’s accusation. “What is the price of a few lives for the many? Consider, Princess. Why continue this fool’s errand of attempting to stay the inevitable tide of change? Dynasties rise and fall like the waves, and mine is readying to crash against the shore and turn your land to an ocean of blood and suffering. Do not waste the lives of your brave soldiers. Submit to me and save your people.”

Grim satisfaction tickles your mouth when there’s not a single whisper of uncertainty in the ranks in the face of her offer.

After a few moments of bated silence, the princess in the heart of the army raises her sword. Her voice soars through the cold air, proud and strong as she trots along the length of the center army. “People of our beloved kingdom, hear me! A choice lies before us. It affects not only us, nor our children’s children, but the whole world. Shall we lay down our arms and our liberty to save our lives in exchange for peace and let others, countless future generations, die in our place? Will we let the land we love be conquered and covered in a darkness so complete our loved ones will never see the light of hope?”

You knee your stallion further into the field. As he prances, you become Hyosung’s mouthpiece again. “Or shall we show these vampires the indomitable spirit of humanity, spirit that can never be broken? Shall we ride into certain death to do battle against the odds with such honor and bravery that our glory will be preserved in story unto the dying of the world?”

“I would rather be slain in battle than die safe in my bed before I let my fellow countrymen suffer untold terrors at the hands of the monsters before us,” the third Hyosung calls. “I am your princess, your sister, your servant, but I will not command you to fight, to sacrifice. The decision is yours, brothers and sisters. What say you?”

The troops stare back in reverential silence, Lamia and her kind temporarily forgotten. Your own heart swells with the fiery pride and fervor.

A lone wolf’s howl shatters the tension. It sings of defiance and courage and resolve. Another wolf joins in, then another. Lions’ and bears’ roars thunder across the plain in a wild, fearsome cacophony. Across the army, thousands of voices rise in battle song while swords and lances beat against shields. Restrained to your human body, you add your fierce cry to the clamor as the stallion beneath you rears and screams his own challenge.

The princess turns her horse around and lowers her sword to point it at Lamia. “You have your answer. We fight.”

Lamia does not appear surprised, her sneer only deepening. “You die.”

She vanishes from the field. With that signal, the vampires swarm towards the city.

Distantly, you hear Lady Kim’s firm commands on the ramparts. The creak of wood and metal precede the explosions of fire and iron shrapnel plummeting down on the vampires. Hyosung’s shout sends hails of iron arrows following. Screams and decimation are instant as flames engulf the vampires and iron finds lifeless hearts to turn them to ash.

Still the vampires come thick as locusts, rushing and shrieking.

Across the plain, a trumpet blares. You gather the reins and your courage, shouting, “For light and home!”

Giving your stallion his head, you charge wide of the enemy at the front of the surging cavalry. Vampires split from the main column heading towards the city to sprint towards you. When your armies meet, they meet with a crash that sends shudders through the very earth.

Screams of the dying from both sides and the clanging of swords clashing permeate the air until they become nothing in your ears. Your stallion’s hooves kick out, crushing vampire skulls and limbs as he pushes through the hordes towards your goal, but he cannot keep them all away. Black blood splatters on your hands, your face, as you hack and slash and parry at vampires who try to pull you down.

Stinging streaks up your leg. Furious, you kick away the vampire who bit your leg through a break in your armor. Before you can kill it yourself, Seokwon drives a stake through its chest. All you have time for is a grateful nod before you have to face the next assault.

Wading through the horde, you give yourself over to the movements engrained in your muscles. So lost in your own body, only the flash of black armor stops your sword mid-swing.

“Alive?” Jongup pants, deftly throwing a stake into the chest of an oncoming vampire.

“For now.” You shake the sweat from your eyes. If only you could remove the damned helmet. Another reckless vampire meets its end with a slice of your sword. “Glad to see you are.”

“For now.” He lowers his arm and turns his horse back towards the city walls. “If our lines hold, we’ll be in position.”

Even as you speak, Kyungsoo and Minseok’s howls direct the cavalry to reform and charge again. Outraged shrieks echo as the vampires realize they’ve been outflanked. The two forces collide with more screams and death and blood. But faced with iron pikes and flaming torches, the vampires do not break through.

You turn your gaze to the city as well. With relief, you see the main body of the army’s lines remain unbroken. Thinned, but whole. Its locked shield wall bows shallowly in some places under the volume of attackers, but it stands resilient. As you watch, several vampires vault over the army and run towards the walls and its catapults. Your warning cry turns to a cheer when they make it no further than a few yards, evaporating into ash a few yards away.

Jongup smiles grimly. “Blessing the city worked. Lamia will never touch it.”

“She won’t have a chance to try if the elementals carry out their task.” You change your sword to your other hand and hold out your sword arm. “See you on the other side, be it in this world or the next.”

Jongup clasps your arm firmly. “In this world or the next.”

You release your grip and he’s off his horse, landing as a lion. Facing the Capitol, Jongup roars three times, his call ringing above the chaos.

When nothing immediately happens, you worry the defenders on the walls did not hear him. Then, a bone-rattling boom precedes a blast of heated air that scorches your back through your armor. You can see the massive tower of flame behind you reflected in the black eyes of the vampires around you. Seconds later, three more lines of fire burst from the earth and race towards each other until both armies are entirely encircled by walls of solid fire burning hotter than hellfire and taller than the walls of the Capitol.

Should the last human fall lifeless to the ground, not a vampire will be left in existence either.

Vampiric screeches of rage and fear crowd above the din of battle and thick black smoke. They skitter back in the face of their bane, only to fall on your troops with renewed viciousness. The ground beneath your stallion’s hooves slickens as dirt mixes with human and vampiric blood. Enemy falls beside slain enemy, littering the ground like dead leaves from a forest of ruin even as the fire tightens its circle and pushes combatants closer together.

Muscles aching, you reach deep within yourself for your reserves of strength. A flash of red catches your eye between the fighters. Lamia. Her sword sprays crimson as she cuts into the leg of her opponent. Your heart drops as Lamia hauls up the golden figure by the shoulders. The princess’ sword drops from her hand so it can frantically scramble and scratch at Lamia’s. Her were guards are nowhere in sight.

Heedless of your own escort, you kick your horse to barrel headlong through friend and foe even as Lamia rips the princess’ helmet off and thrusts her fangs into the princess’ throat.

“Be damned, you are not she!” Lamia screeches, tossing the decoy’s lifeless body from her. She spins, eyes searching. Then they meet yours across the field and Lamia’s glower turns into a murderous leer. A bloodstained finger beckons you to where she waits.

You tighten your grip on your sword and tense to jump from your saddle as you ride closer. Something collides with your horse, sending him sprawling with a squeal and you plunging to the ground.

Scrambling for your sword, you find it and your feet in time to watch a bear rushing at Lamia. She easily sidesteps him and his swiping paws when he rounds on her. The bear rears up to lunge, but a vampire springs on his back, biting at his thick neck. Lamia leaps.

“No!” you scream, hand uselessly outstretched.

Her sword sinks into the bear’s chest. Minkyun’s body is human before he hits the ground, his eyes already empty.

Lamia rips her sword free and kneels to shove a hand into his wound. Only to jump back with a cackle from your swinging sword.

“You will not touch him,” you growl. You are careful not to look at the body you stand over lest the tears burning your eyes fall.

“All I wanted was his heart, Princess.” Lamia licks at her bloodied hand and moans in pleasure. “It has been so long since I tasted were blood. And today I have had so much. Such a lovely winter solstice present.”

Fear and grief stab at your heart, but they vanish, overwhelmed with rage. Leveling your sword in challenge, you speak through gritted teeth. “It is the last winter solstice you will ever see.”

You throw yourself at Lamia with all your might. She thrusts upward to block your sword, dirt spraying beneath her feet as you press downward. Lamia slips under your guard to stab at your stomach. You dance away and come at her again, funneling every drop of fury into every strike, every blow. But Lamia is more your match, countering your every move and launching her own assaults with an infuriatingly confident cool.

As your swords lock at the hilt and you come face to face, a scream echoes from the city parapets. The wall of flame closest to the Capitol evaporates as if it never was. Panic sends a chill right to your heart. Officers desperately try to rally their soldiers with desperate cries as the vampires rush their lines towards escape.

Lamia takes advantage of your distraction and savagely clouts your jaw with her fist. Red erupts behind your eyes as you fly backwards. Pain takes your breath and turns it to choking wheezes. You spit out blood and push your hair out of your face, freezing. Your helmet lies beside you.

Lamia hisses as she advances. “You. Where is the real princess?” Suddenly, her head jerks away to the east, face lifted like a hound catching a scent.

As abruptly as it vanished, the missing fire wall explodes back into existence. Frantically, you follow Lamia’s gaze and find what she did. Hyosung, arms outstretched towards the new blaze. Invisible, pungent power streams between her and her creation as she stands undisturbed, surrounded by her embattled bears and Jongup.

Smiling, Lamia bends at the waist in a mocking bow. “I will finish you later, beast-child.” And she is gone.

Hyosung cannot fall. If Hyosung falls, so does the kingdom.

“Weres!” Ripping off your armor as you run, your distraught cry turns to a roar as you shift. To the princess! Lamia!

Having four feet makes dodging clashing vampires and humans and falling fire balls far easier and faster, yet you are still too slow. Lamia is almost on the princess on her small band of defenders, cutting down all in her path.

A bear throws himself in front of Lamia, his purple robes tattered and bloodstained. Seokwon’s sword glows gold with reflected firelight as it arcs downward. Lamia counters, but it throws her off balance, so she cannot do the same for his descending paw. Her head snaps to the side at the impact, blood spraying.

Lamia dances away from Seokwon’s pursuing jaws before swooping back in with a bloodcurdling shriek. She catches him by the throat and flings him away. You cannot see where he lands.

Vengeance fuels your body as you spring. Your claws and teeth sink through armor into cold, vulnerable skin. Screaming, Lamia drops her sword and digs her own claws into your shoulders to throw you off her, but you dig your claws deeper so you both tumble down.

Together you roll and tussle, teeth gnashing and claws lashing out. Her blood drips onto your fur from the gashes Seokwon’s claws scored on her cheek and the dozens of wounds you inflicted yourself.

Lamia’s fangs snap at your chest, only scraping it as you jerk away. “I should’ve killed you when I found you,” she growls. She scuttles away, shedding armor as she goes. Her crown haphazardly clings to her head.

You snarl in reply and hurl yourself at her again. Lamia crouches at the last minute so you fly over her head, standing and twisting to drive a dagger into your side.

The agony is instant and terrible and wrenches a tortured roar from your lungs. You shift back as you land, quivering hands reaching for the blade imbedded below your ribs. Biting back a scream, you yank it out.

Lamia’s shadow falls on you. When you look up, panting, she is standing there smirking at you. She opens her mouth, but another shadow soars over you as Yongguk collides with her. His jaw closes around her shoulder as they collapse.

Howling, Lamia tears away, black blood cascading down her arm. Yongguk lets her go, backing up until he stands above you.

“How quaint,” Lamia jeers. She reaches down to grab up a sword from a fallen soldier’s hand. “The lover comes to die with his beloved.”

Yongguk shifts into a human, but offers no retort. His golden eyes follow the movement of every muscle in Lamia’s body. Without looking away, he anxiously whispers, “Ness?”

Though your body screams and your lungs whistle, you drag yourself to your knees. You place a hand against his back. “Go,” you tell him. “Kill her. End it.”

Yongguk reaches behind to briefly squeeze your hand before stooping for a sword of his own. He braces himself as Lamia strides closer, red eyes reflecting the rising flames.

Lamia strikes, Yongguk easily batting her blade aside. She attacks again, taunting. Once again, he blocks. Lamia grins and falls on him.

Sword rings on sword in a deadly, discordant song. Lamia darts back and forth, harrying and provoking with tiny scratches and cuts, but Yongguk always keeps her in his sight, never reacting recklessly. He never allows her an inch closer to where you lie.

Yongguk is tired. His armor is gone, leaving plainclothes that are torn and shredded. The blood running down his skin is pink from his sweat. But he does not falter, does not let his defense buckle. Yongguk is conserving what is left of his energy for the right moment.

It comes when Lamia thrusts, overextending her reach when Yongguk sways aside at the last second. Yongguk lunges and crushes Lamia against him, pinning her arms to her side. Hissing, she bites down into his exposed shoulder. His breath stutters, but he does not release her and with one hand, Yongguk drives the stake you slipped him through Lamia’s back and into her heart.

Lamia gasps, a horrible croaking sound. Her eyes widen with disbelief. Her shaking fingers weakly scrabble at Yongguk’s shoulders. He digs the stake in harder. Finally, Lamia’s lifeless head falls backward. Her body explodes into ashes and her soiled crown lands upside-down in the bloodied grass with a dull thump.

Lamia, the vampire queen, is dead.

Previous Part

Kingdom Map, Lion’s Keep, Were Scale, Were Guide

#yongguk scenarios #bap scenarios #kpopwritingnet #b.a.p scenarios #kpop scenarios #bang yongguk #kpop au #bap au #b.a.p au

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hirakdesherrani · 6 years

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Break: A Svetlana/Gauri (SvetRi) story

*This is pile of trash. I’m no writer, this is just the result of some major frustration, because I made the mistake of reading the episode updates. Hopefully, after this I’ll get the monkey of IB off my back*

Tired. Yes, that’s what she was feeling. Weary, exhausted, worn-out. Not from physical work, though planning a wedding could be tiring. No, it was something else. Not some things, many things. Oh, so many things, so many thoughts, which she had been keeping at bay, just surrounded her this morning. So, once the morning drama was done, she surreptitiously made her way out of the Oberoi Mansion. Its not like someone would notice. And that was part of the problem.

She believed that her Shakarji was always with her, wherever she went. Still, the thought of visiting the temple always made her happy. After all, she practically grew up in the environs of the big temple in Bareilly. So, here she was leaning on the pillar in one corner of the Shiv temple, sitting down and contemplating her fate.

Why today of all days she felt the strong urge to commune with God she didn’t know. Maybe because two days hence it would be one year of her marriage to Omkaraji, the man Shankarji had chosen for her. Or maybe because yesterday, he disappeared for the whole night but he did not think it was important to inform his wife where he went or why.

Gauri was no fool; she knew this had something to do with Bade Bhaiyaa and Bhaujaai’s plan. Of course, Omkara ji and Rudy Bhaiyaa were part of it. Some part of Gauri’s mind was relieved that she wasn’t a part of this silly plan, which involved her Bhaujaai dressing up as a woman from the village. She told herself that its alright that they didn’t include her in their plans, Bade Bhaiyaa, Bhaujaai, Omkara ji and Rudy Bhaiyaa knew each other from way back and they had a much older, stronger bond.

But a stronger voice told her that it was wrong on Omkaraji’s part to hide things from her. To treat like she was till a stranger in his life. The other woman. Suddenly a memory flashed in front of her eyes: Omkaraji accusing her of having an affair with Ajay, because of those unexplained disappearances. Those periods when she used to attend English classes secretly. Yesterday, he disappeared for an entire night. What should she make of that? What should she make of all those times when he disappeared without telling her? Should she also suspect him of cheating on her?

She knew that he was planning with his brothers and sister-in-law, but he didn’t know that she knew. Wasn’t it his duty to tell her? Or did he expect her to understand him without telling her anything? She couldn’t believe this was happening to her again. Again the burden was on her to understand him, only this time she did understand him, she knew he was doing it for his family, but why couldn’t he tell her? Just for once talk to her.

Gauri was feeling miserable now. Not that she had been feeling anything else since she returned from Bareilly. One after the other, some new issue had been unfolding. She had lost count of what all happened since she returned. Not that there hadn’t been any moments of joy, but they were too far and few between. She longed to share her feelings with someone. With her Annika Bhaujaai. Bhaujaai would be able to understand her, and maybe help her out. After all, Bhaujaai had also faced rough patches in her relationship. But here again there was a problem; there was no escaping Bhavya. She almost felt guilty for thinking this, but if Gauri had to be honest with herself, she didn’t like Bhavya tagging along with her and Bhaujaai all the time. Bhavya was her friend, no doubt, but the almost-sisterly bond Gauri shared with her Bhaujaai, that was something different. Bhavya did not invite her confidence in relationship matters. And her presence meant that Gauri could not confide in Anika Bhaujaai.

Anyways, there was no point thinking about all this, because currently Bhaujaai was busy imitating someone from the North Indian hinterlands. And it was such a poor imitation, but Gauri was too sweet to discourage it. So, here she was, alone, reflecting the mess that her life had become. Its not that her life was wonderful before she met Omkaraji. No, it was difficult even then; standing up to the torture of her greedy chaacha-chaachi, taking care of her ill mother, struggling to keep their family afloat, none of it had been easy. But Gauri was a born fighter. She fought against all that, she fought against Kali Thakur, she fought against Svetlana, against Buamaa, and she fought against her Omkaraji too, in a way. All alone, always alone. But at least she knew what she was doing.

That’s exactly where the problem lay. Since she had returned from Bareilly, she felt like she was just an audience viewing everything happening around her from the outside. She felt like she was just a pawn in some pathetic game, in fact, she felt below than a pawn. She felt like she had no agency in what was happening to her.

********

Agency, that word seemed so alien to her. No one would think that she would come here. After all, why would Svetlana, the woman who could almost tweak science, come to a place of worship? But it seemed that she had no choice in the matter. For the first time in life, Svetlana was pulled against her will to enter the premises of a temple. Svetlana did not believe in god, or indeed, anything supernatural. But she just couldn’t resist the urge to come to this place. Like she had no agency.

But then again when had she had any agency? When was the last time that she did something just because she wished to? As far as she could remember, the foremost thing on her mind was taking revenge on the Oberois. That was her central mission, and everything other action in her life was dedicated to that. Its like she was a robot with only one agenda on mind and every other action of hers, were just ancillary actions, leading up to her mission.

As far back as she could remember her mother had instilled a feeling of revenge in their hearts. Svetlana being the eldest was almost fed on that revenge. Of course, being the eldest, the prime responsibility of taking revenge also fell on her. Svetlana had dedicated her life to this mission. While Tia was happily pondering about the universe, Svetlana devoted her time to science and business, as much as she could, to defeat the Oberois. She had come a long way in acquiring knowledge and learning through experience. Along the way, she would recollect some unsavory experiences as well, but Svetlana did what was necessary to survive, and she never reflected upon her actions.

She was recovering from another checkmate of the Oberois. It was almost humiliating now, how the Oberois managed to outsmart her, sometimes by sheer luck. The recent drama at the auction was still stinging her. Her temporary exit did not derail their plans however, because her cousin Veer was there to take care of the Oberois. Veer was probably the closest to Svetlana, when it came to their interests; both understood the value of science in their lives. However, Veer was boring, and not to mention had a certain streak of depravity, which made Svetlana privately grateful that he was dealing with the Oberois for now, because she needed a break from their stupidity. Her thoughts went back to how she would always come close ruining them, but get thwarted at the last moment. She remembered the time when she almost married Omkara, the second grandson of the family, and the stupidest of the three brothers. Sentimental fools are always the easiest to trap. But then his so-called wife entered the scene and ruined her plans. Gauri, oh how she made a fool out of Svetlana for months.

Maybe her imagination was too strong, but Svetlana was shocked for a moment to see that girl, Gauri, sitting on the temple floor. She took a closer look and realized that she wasn’t hallucinating; Gauri was actually sitting there.

********

Gauri was staring into space, when a familiar voice penetrated through the fog of her thoughts.

“Regretting our life decisions, are we?”

Gauri looked up to see Svetlana standing over her, smirking slightly.

“You better take off your heeled sandals in the temple. People might not like it.” Gauri said idly.

“And you may not save me like last time?” replied Svetlana. For a moment, Gauri was confused about what she was talking about, then she remembered the first time she and Svetlana met, and how Gauri had almost rescued Svetlana from the furious autowaalahs.

“I didn’t do it for your benefit. I overheard you while you were on the phone. You wanted a servant and I wanted a job. So, I thought this would work out well for me.” replied Gauri.

“I thought as much. You and I aren’t very different.” Svetlana smirked.

“What do you mean?” Gauri’s interest was piqued now.

“Well, its not like you are the Sati Savitri you portray yourself. You duped Omkara and his entire family into believing that you are boy for months. You played with their emotions by faking your pregnancy. And its not that your hands don’t have blood on them.” sneered Svetlana.

“What are you saying?” Gauri almost shouted, curiosity and a slight fear now mixed with her voice.

“Keep your voice down, you don’t want people to find out that you killed Kali Thakur, now do you?” asked Svetlana

“How do you know about that?” asked Gauri, now brimming with curiosity.

“After my history with Kali Thakur and his unexpected re-entry in my life, I would be a fool not keep tabs on him. I value my life.” said Svetlana

“Well, if you did keep tabs on him, then you would also know that I stabbed him in self-defense. And coming back to the Oberois, even if I did fool them, it was to save Omkara ji’s life, to save his family from the likes of you and Buamaa.” Gauri replied, with confidence now that her curiosity had been satisfied. “Its our intentions that define our actions, and not our actions alone. All I did, was always for Omkaraji’s good.”

“The same Omkara, who is so absorbed in his duty to his brothers, that he does not know his wife is here shedding tears?” chided Svetlana

The taunt hit too deep. “What are you doing here anyways? Shouldn’t you be in prison?” Gauri tried to deflect Svetlana’s taunts.

“I thought you knew me well by now, Gauri. No prison can keep Svetlana locked for long.” Svetlana laughed “Don’t try to avoid the question. So, Omkara indeed does not know that you are here lamenting your fate. This is hilarious. After all that you have done for him, put your life in jeopardy, even at my hands, he does not care to find out where his wife is?” sneered Svetlana even more.

“Shut up! Omkaraji trusts me, and I trust him. I have full vishwaas on him.” Gauri tried to fight back bravely.

“Oh really? Then lets test your vishwaas, shall we? Why don’t you stay here some time longer, and see if Omkara comes looking for you?” Svetlana asked

Gauri was struck by this question. Curiously what impacted her was not whether Omkara would come looking for her or not; but whether he knew where to look for her in the first place.

“What happened? No answer? Are you worried that he won’t look for you? Or are you worried that he wouldn’t even know where to start?” Svetlana chided further.

Gauri looked up at her; shocked that Svetlana of all people could guess what she was thinking.

Svetlana looked down at her, and the answer was clearly reflected in Gauri’s eyes. Curiously Svetlana did not feel like laughing at Gauri’s fate.

****** Dusk was approaching now, but no Omkara was in sight. Idly, Gauri thought that she was right, he didn’t know where to find her, and her mind went back to the time when they both were practicing for Dhurindhar’s questions, and Omkaraji did not remember her favorite dish was daal chaawal, even though she remembered his. Even though they had spent so much time together when she was in her Chulbul disguise, he knew nothing about her. Then again Omkaraji had promised that Chulbul was his best buddy, and yet he had left to die at Kali’s hand or worse, when the veil of Chulbul was lifted. And there, it happened again.

The entire day, wave after wave of unhappy thoughts and memories were crashing upon Gauri. She was plagued with negative thoughts, and she couldn’t run from the truth anymore. Omkaraji did not care for her, at least, not in the same way that she did. Or not to the same extent that she did. It shouldn’t matter that he didn’t care for her the same way; after all, didn’t Gauri believe that love should be like Meera’s devotion to Krishn? She remembered how confidently she had told her future Bhaujaai on the phone, when they spoke for the first time. “Hum jise chaahe uska milna zaroori kaha hai? Hum toh chahne bhar se khush hai.” But then she also learnt the hard way that a one-sided relationships don’t work.

“Abhi mohabbat karni hai, humein hamaare hisse ki.” Words, just empty words. What more to expect from a poet? Words are all that he could give, but his actions spoke otherwise. Its not like he didn’t care for her at all, but since they returned, there was one crisis or another that befell their family. But Bade Bhaiyaa had to face those crises too, yet Bade Bhaiyaa could manage to be an excellent elder brother, and an Ishqbaaaz’. Anika bhaujaai was so loved; it was evident in Bade Bhaiyaa’s eyes how much he wanted her.

Omkaraji just wasn’t like that. He just wasn’t an Ishqbaaaz like his elder brother. Heck, he wasn’t even a normal husband. And not for the first time in her life, Gauri felt unwanted, unloved. Gauri was aware that she was beautiful in an objective kind of way. She didn’t think much of it though, because more often than not it was the root cause of unwelcome attention, the worst example of which was Kali Thakur. But it pinched her that her husband never noticed her. She was invisible to his eyes. Okay, maybe not invisible but she was definitely only a reactionary figure in his life. He did stand up for her, but only when something happened like when Papaji did her shraadh. That particular memory still hurt her. Not so much because of what Papaji did, but more so because Jahnvi Maaji, did nothing to stop him. The same woman, whose life Gauri saved twice, and not just her life, but her marriage too. Gauri shouldn’t be surprised at Omkaraji’s ungratefulness. It seems that he had inherited it from his mother.

Maybe Gauri was being unkind. Omkaraji must have done something for her willingly. Nothing came to Gauri’s mind. Desperately now, Gauri struggled to find one instance when Omkaraji had done something of his accord for her. Yes! He came to Bareilly as Dilpreet to make up to her. But another stronger voice nagged in her head that maybe that was out of guilt, to make up for his mistake. Gauri thought harder.

He was so sad when that painting of hers was auctioned. But maybe that was because the painting signified the rebirth of his art, and not because it was her painting. He did credit her for being his inspiration. Another thing, in the long list of things, that Gauri had done for Omkara. And here it was again. That feeling. That Gauri had given her everything to a man in the past one year, who did not even care for her enough to tell her the truth of what’s going on his life. To make her the part of his life. To come looking for her, when she’s been missing for an entire day.

She looked at Shankarji’s idol. She had always trusted her Shankarji to know the best for her, which is why she never questioned her marriage to Omkaraji. She never hesitated in performing her duties to that marriage because she believed that Shankarji joined their fates, so who was she to deny the responsibilities that came with it? She never expected of Omkara to upkeep his side of the marriage. Only wanted some trust from his side. He finally gave her the reason to trust him in Bareilly, he made promises to give her what was her due, as his wife. But he reneged on his word.

Did Shankarji make a mistake?

********

Svetlana did not know why she was sitting here. Like in her entire life, she could not have come up with a worse way to waste time, than sitting next to the wife of her enemy. She could be doing better things, like plotting her next scheme to ruin the Oberois. And there it was again, the same thought. The Oberois, always thinking about ruining the Oberois. Its like nothing else occupied her mind than the hundred and one ways to ruin that family of idiots. Her entire life, she could have achieved so much more, but no, it always ‘badla’ and ‘barbaadi’. But right now, nothing and no one could look more ‘barbaad’, more devastated then the girl sitting opposite her. Gauri took no notice of her, because it was as clear as day on her face that right now, the girl was going through an existential crisis, that her life was crashing around her.

Svetlana was feeling this strange emotion in her heart. She didn’t know what it was, mostly because she thought she didn’t possess a heart. She tried really hard to put a name to the contortions in her heart, which she was experiencing. Leading an almost mechanical existence her entire life, putting a name to her feelings was one of the most difficult tasks she’s ever come across. Finally she came up with a word to her emotions: Pity. Svetlana pitied the girl sitting before her. Yes, she pitied Gauri.

“Are you done moping?” said Svetlana, trying to sound irritated.

“Why are you still here? To enjoy the downfall of your enemy?” countered Gauri

“Are you my enemy? The Oberois are my enemy, but what is the cause for our feud? If I’ve done anything against you, its just collateral damage.” said Svetlana.

“Collateral damage? Right, like I was for your sister Tia?” asked Gauri, with a slight smile

Svetlana was stumped. “How did you know she was my sister?”

“I know that Tia is not blind. And the only way she could fool that doctor, was with chemicals, which no one but you could have provided her. And why would you help her? Why would she plot against the Oberois when she was so grateful to Bade Bhaiyaa and Bhaujaai? Only if you two were related.” guessed Gauri.

“Hmm, you are smart. Why are you wasting your time with that sentimental idiot, Omkara?” asked Svetlana

“Ek jhaap mein deewar pe sat jaaibe! Just because I’m disappointed with him, or sitting here talking to you, it doesn’t mean that I would listen to nonsense about him, least of all from you” replied Gauri angrily.

“Itna pyaar? And for that person who still hasn’t bothered to find out where you are?” sneered Gauri.

“Not love, devotion.” replied Gauri.

“Devotion to the person who doesn’t deserve it?” sneered Svetlana

And she hit the nail with it. Gauri had realized when she walked away from Omkara that day, after the fiasco at the hotel that Omkara wasn’t deserving of her devotion. And there she was learning English to impress him. How Gauri regretted that now. She, who was always proud about her origins, succumbed to her insecurities, which she never had before meeting him. That’s what he had reduced her to: an insecure shell of her former glorious self. After she walked away from him, she promised that she would never change herself for anyone like that again. But then why was she here in the temple today, cursing her fate? Because she tried to be every bit the supporting wife and bahu of the house. And what did she get in return for that? A father-in-law who performed her funeral rites and a husband who was out there gallivanting with his brothers and sister-in-law, forgetting that he had a wife too.

Svetlana saw Gauri’s form shrinking, and felt a little guilty for how her words pierced her.

“Oh c’mon. Get up. Do something about it if you are so upset. Fight him back, make him rue treating you like this.” said Svetlana.

“And what purpose will it serve? He hurts me I hurt him. I push back harder, causing no one more grief than myself, and everyone around me a lot of headache.” said Gauri.

“So, that’s what you think of Shivaay and Anika’s relationship?” taunted Svetlana, with a laugh.

Svetlana caught Gauri’s hand in time, because Omkara was one thing, but Gauri would not hear a word against her Bade Bhaiyaa and Bhaujaai, and hand her rose in reflex to reply to Svetlana’s words.

“Don’t even think about it.” Svetlana said with chill in her voice. She calmed herself, and continued, “Think harder, isn’t your Bade Bhaiyaa and Bhaujaai’s relationship exactly like this?”

Gauri was reminded of how both Shivaay and Anika got engaged to Ragini and Vikram only to show their famous ‘tadi’. And she was not totally unaware of their relationship’s origins. In the last three months, when Omkara was ignoring her (unintentionally of course), she ended spending a lot of time with the servants of the house. They were friendly with her, since they knew her from her Chulbul days. Svetlana was right. Yes, Bade Bhaiyaa and Bhaujaai’s ishqbaazi warmed her heart, but that kind of relationship was unhealthy in its own way, and involved a lot of understanding on her Bhaujaai’s part. Just like her own relationship where all the share of understanding fell on her shoulders while Omkaraji never fulfilled his side of the relationship.

Svetlana released Gauri’s hand, once she saw her shoulders drooping. Comprehension showed in Gauri’s eyes.

“If you are not going to do anything about your situation, then are going to go back to him?” asked Svetlana

“I don’t know what I want to do.” replied Gauri.

“How about doing something you like?” asked Svetlana, amazed at herself, for even asking this. “What do you like doing?”

Gauri answered immediately without thinking, “I’d love to watch a Salman Khan movie.”

“Then lets go catch one in the theatre.” Svetlana said that almost against her own volition.

Gauri was shocked too. Here she was fraternizing with the enemy? But wait, Svetlana was not her enemy, not anymore.

“Lets go then” Gauri replied, with a slight smile.

Svetlana was the enemy of the Oberois.

******* Svetlana knew beforehand that she would regret her decision. It was not happening to her for the first time. Svetlana pondered idly that why was she always hanging out with her sautans? There was that one time when she was hainging out with Jahnvi, when they had supposedly killed Tej. And now this.

Gauri was excited beyond belief. It had been so long since she watched a Salman Khan film. The last time was before she……no, she wouldn’t think about that now. She would enjoy the movie. There was the usual message on the screen to switch off one’s mobile phones. Which is when Gauri realized that she didn’t bring her phone with her at all. What if….? No, she wouldn’t think about that. She focused her attention back to Tiger Zinda Hai. Unlike many of her friends, Gauri loved the idea of sequels. She loved to see another half of the story. There was always more to tell, more to a character. There was always a second innings to be played.

Svetlana was distinctly embarrassed. She was trying her best to ignore Gauri’s overenthusiasm over the show. Failing that, she was pretending that she doesn’t know her. The movie was obviously not up to Svetlana’s taste. Then again, when was the last time she had seen a movie. The only video she remember playing again and again was the Kalyani Mills video, which turned out to be an error. She felt a headache coming on, but seeing Gauri so joyous, she shut her eyes and gave in. What was wrong with her? She, Svetlana, who had always manipulated people, was being manipulated by some unseen force.

The movie finished some three hours later, but Gauri’s antics did not. Her silly kampat trick was drawing a lot of attention, but Gauri didn’t seem to take notice of that. Svetlana was rolling her eyes continuously at this nonsense, but also, for some reason felt a strong urge to laugh. Something’s definitely wrong with her.

They returned to the temple. Svetlana faced Gauri.

“What are you planning to do now?”

Gauri thought for a moment. The corner stone of Gauri’s life had been vishwaas. But Omkaraji had let her down. He did not trust her with his life’s goings-on. He did not think Gauri was an important enough to share his life with her. She was still an outsider to his life. Did Gauri want to go back to him? And if she didn’t, would that mean abandoning her beliefs, and the person her Shankarji had chosen for her?

But her Shankarji had also pulled her to the temple today. He ensured that she met Svetlana, and undertook an honest evaluation of her life. Maybe this was a sign from her Shankarji, that the man he chose for his devotee was not good enough for her. Maybe this was a sign that Shankarji was showing her way out.

“I want a break.” Gauri replied. “I’m unsure what I want, but one thing I don’t want is to go back to man who is not ready to be honest with me, to trust me, and to reciprocate the vishwaas I have in him. I’m not ready to go back to the family, which still treats me like an outsider. I want to play my second innings.”

Curiously, Svetlana understood what she meant. She wanted a break too. A break from an endless pursuit of the Oberois. Let Veer deal with them, she needed a break.

“So, where do you want to go?” Svetlana asked casually.

“You coming?” Gauri asked, not really surprised.

“I could use a break too.” replied Svetlana with a slight smile. “So, how about Goa?” asked Svetlana.

Gauri remembered the past three months and all the drama that happened. Svetlana looked at Gauri’s horrified expression.

“Chill, I was just kidding.” Svetlana answered, amused by Gauri’s reaction.

And just like that, both the women broke into a genuine, peal of giggles.

*************

#Pray for me!#let me achieve closure from this shit show after writing this #still lots better than what the writers dole out #I don't know what came over me #gauri kumari sharma #svetlana kapoor #SvetRi FTW #Rikara #Ishqbaaaz #Ishqbaaz #my stuff #my fanfic

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i-also-miss-our-talks · 6 years

Text

The Bubbler ~ Dear Miraculous Ladybug

Holy crap this took for forever! I never really realized how long an episode was until I wrote this.

WC: 4,458

Warning: Swearing, Horribly placed references, Jared Kleinman

Please give me feedback! I’d love to hear what you guys thought of this! (Also if I should continue this)

Character Basics

Masterlist

Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

“Huh?” Evan reached over to his side table and shut off his alarm. He closed his eyes and relaxed back into his pillows before realizing what day it was. “Happy birthday!”

Tikki jumped in surprise when Evan hopped out of bed and practically dove into his desk chair, opening up his laptop. “Evan, what are you so energized for?”

Evan turned on his laptop and stared lovingly at his wallpaper; a recent photo of the famous model Connor Murphy. Sure, he was known as the “School Shooter” at, well, school, but Evan knew better. Connor could be nice! Evan swears he’s seen his nice side before. Just not everyone has. “It’s Connor’s birthday! I made him a present, but, I, uh, I don’t know if he would, um, he will like it,” the poor boy said, closing his computer.

The Kwami landed on Evan’s shoulder. “He’s gonna love it, Evan. I’m sure of it.”

“Happy birthday, Connor,” Plagg said, handing him a slice of the infamous camembert as he brushed his teeth.

Connor gagged and pushed the present away. “Eww, Plagg! That shit reeks!”

Plagg just shrugged. “More for me.” He tossed the cheese into his mouth and swallowed with a big smile.

The birthday boy sighed. “I can’t believe I got stuck with a fucking camembert addicted cat-bug.”

Connor put his toothbrush away, grabbed his backpack, opened his hoodie pocket for Plagg to fly into, and went downstairs for breakfast. His sister, Zoe Murphy, was already waiting at the table. “It’s about time you showed up,” she mumbled.

“Shut up,” Connor retaliated and sat in his chair.

Cynthia Murphy, Connor and Zoe’s mom, set a plate of pancakes in front of Connor. “Happy birthday, my sweet boy!”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks mom.” He looked over at his father’s empty seat. “Hey, did dad say anything about a party today? It’ll probably be only Zoe’s friends attending, but maybe we could st-“

“Sweetheart, you know your father’s rules about parties,” Cynthia sighed.

“Right. I should’ve known,” Connor sighed.

“Maybe if you didn’t spend all your time getting high, dad might have considered it,” Zoe shrugged.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!”

“Both of you, stop!” Cynthia frowned. “I am not having you two fight today. Just go off to school, okay?”

To their dismay, the Murphy siblings grabbed their bags and made their way to the car waiting outside.

“You got this, Evan! Just hand him the gift and be on your way. You don’t even have to say a word,” Alana Beck said, trying to build the boys confidence by the school’s front doors.

“Plus, he’s gay. So you wont seem as creepy giving him a gift as you would giving a straight guy a gift,” Jared Kleinman added. He dipped his bubble wand into the container and blew out more bubbles.

“Jared, what are you doing?” Alana asked.

“What? Can’t a guy have a little fun? I found these bubbles at the park yesterday so I’m obviously not gonna let them go to waste.”

“Why were you at the park?”

“Not everything needs an answer, Alana!”

Evan took a deep breath and watched as Connor arrived to the school. He stepped out of the car after his sister and let his hair fall in front of his face. “O-okay. Yeah, I, uh, I can probably, most, most likely do this,” Evan nodded and gripped the gift in his, sweaty, hands. He began to walk towards Connor, but accidentally made eye contact with the model boy and chickened out. “I can’t! I can’t do this!”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!” Jared stomped over to Connor and stood in front of him, preventing him from continuing his walk. “Hey, Connor! Heard it’s your birthday!”

Connor scoffed. “Yeah? What of it?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little bit more happy? I mean, it’s not everyday you turn…how ever old you’re turning,” Jared laughed.

The model rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just fuck off, Kleinman.”

“So, when’s the party?” Jared asked, continuing anyway.

Connor frowned. “My dad didn’t want me to have a fucking party so you gotta find some other way to eat shitty cake.”

“Okay, now or never,” Alana whispered and gently shoved Evan towards his crush. “Go get ‘em, Evan!”

The blue boy stumbled as he was pushed towards Connor. Thankfully, he regained his footing just as he landed next to Jared. Evan gulped as he looked at Connor. “Uh, h-hey,” he smiled.

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Hey?”

At the school doors, an angry Clara Harrise watched the scene unfold. “Samantha! Did you seriously not tell me it was Connors birthday?!”

Her “best friend”, Samantha Wilson, looked through her phones calendar and gasped at her mistake. “I’m sorry, Clara! I must’ve forgotten!”

“Yeah, you must have!” Clara stomped out the doors and towards Connor. Evan was desperately trying to form a sentence for Connor when she pushed him out of the way. Clara put on a fake smile and hugged the birthday boy. “Happy birthday, Connor-bear!”

Connor pushed her off of him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t use that stupid nickname. It fucking sucks.”

Clara ignored him. “Did you get the present I sent you?” When Connor shook his head, the girl groaned. “Those stupid delivery people! It must’ve been too big so they had to get more people to help them. But don’t worry, it’ll get there!” With a quick kiss to the cheek, Clara retreated back to Samantha.

“Oh! What’d you get him, Clara?” Samantha asked.

“I didn’t get him anything. You did. And it better be the biggest and best thing there is. Got it?” Clara said. Samantha gave a quick nod and went to typing on her phone.

Jared helped pick Evan back up. “Hey, Evan. Didn’t you have something to say to Connor?” Jared asked, trying to help him out.

Evan nodded. “Yeah, I, uh, wanted to, well, was hoping to, um give you, uh, gi—“ Poor Evan was cut off by the sound of a car honking.

Connor looked past the stuttering boy and sighed. He turned towards his sister, who was talking with Alana behind him. “Zoe! We’ve got another fucking photoshoot!” Zoe frowned, apologized to Alana for leaving, and followed her brother into the car.

“No party, huh? Guess it’s time for The Insanely Cool Jared Kleinman to do some work.” And with that, Jared began his walk to the Murphy Mansion.

“Why don’t you ring the doorbell?” Alana asked. Her and Evan were currently standing outside the Murphy household, trying to figure out how to give Connor his gift.

“What? I can’t, but, I can’t ring the doorbell! I mean what, what if he, Connor, what if Connor answers?” Evan said, nervously wiping his hands on his shirt, careful not to accidentally hit Tikki in the front pocket.

Alana smirked and pressed the doorbell button. “Guess we’ll find out, wont we?”

But, to Evan’s slight disappointment, Connor did not answer the door. His mother did. Cynthia smiled at the teens. “Hello, there. How can I help you?”

Evan fumbled around, searching for something to say. “I, uh, I have, um, gift? A-a gift for, uh, for Connor?”

Cynthia gasped. “Oh my goodness! Yes, yes thank you! I’ll be sure to give it to him!” She smiled and took the gift. She was so excited that Connor was getting a gift that she closed the door in their faces.

Evan, though, smiled brightly. “I really wish, er, uh, hope Connor likes it!”

Alana nodded. “Of course he will! You did leave a note, right?” Evan blinked once. Twice. Three times. And then shook his head sadly. “Oh, boy. Jared’s gonna get a kick out of this. Speaking of, where is he?”

“Who was that, Cynthia?”

Said woman turned and smiled at her husband. “Oh, Larry, can you believe it? Connor received a gift from a friend!”

Larry Murphy, head of the Murphy Model Industry as well as his own lines of fashion, sighed. “Did we even get him a present?”

Cynthia’s smile was replaced with a frown. “I got him a present. Did you?”

Larry’s eyes quickly flicked down towards the present in his wife's arms before he nodded. “Of course.”

A knock on the door alerted the adults attentions. Cynthia walked to the door and was happily greeted by non other than Jared Kleinman. “Hi, can I help you?”

Jared smiled and nodded. “I hope so. I’ve come to talk with Mr. Murphy.” Upon hearing his name, Larry stepped into the doorway, a scowl decorating his features. “Oh, hey, Mr. Murphy! I just wanted to stop by and say you should really let Connor have a birthday party. It’s really kinda a necessity in the teenage years.”

“No,” Larry stated. “I decided to not let my son have a party and that’s that.”

Jared’s smile lessened as Cynthia walked away. “Oh, come on! Connor may not be the best at, well, anything, but even he deserves a party. You always give Zoe one for her birthdays.”

“Kleinman?” Turning at his name, Jared was met with the Murphy siblings standing behind him, waiting to enter their house. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Connor asked.

“Just trying to get you the party you deserve, Murphy,” Jared said.

“Listen here…Kleinman. I don’t need you to tell me whats best for my children. In fact, I don’t need you to tell me anything. You’re not allowed here again. Leave. Now,” Larry snapped.

Zoe stepped forward, placing a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Dad! Jared’s just trying to be a good friend, even if Connor doesn’t deserve it,” she said, mumbling the last bit under her breath.

“I fucking heard that!”

“Fuck off, Connor. I’m trying to help you right now!”

Larry grabbed Zoe’s arm and pulled her away. “I said leave, young man.”

Jared frowned and stomped away. He hadn’t even noticed Zoe had escaped her Father’s grasp and followed him. “Jared, wait! I’m sorry my dad was such an ass to you.”

“That man is an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but himself! I’m sorry you’re stuck living with him,” Jared said and walked away. He walked to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling out his container of bubbles to calm him down. He took out the wand and blew some bubbles as he watched a father drag his kid away from an ice cream stand. “Adults are all assholes.”

Soon, a little black and purple butterfly landed on Jared’s bubble wand. As it entered the plastic, a menacing voice filled Jared’s head. “Hello there, Bubbler. I am Hawkmoth. I will grant you the power to be rid of all the adults. But in exchange, I’ll need you to give me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous’s.”

Jared smirked. “Sounds like a deal,” he laughed and let a purple fog engulf him. When the Bubbler emerged, he smiled brightly. “Holy fucking shit this is awesome!” He grabbed his giant bubble wand from the sheath on his back and blew a bubble towards the dad from earlier. The dad was encased by a bubble which lifted him into the sky. “Now, where’s the rest of the adults?”

“Connor’s probably gotten his present by now,” Evan said as he ate lunch with Tikki.

The kwami nodded. “And he definitely loves it, Evan.” The boy smiled and handed Tikki another cookie. Outside, a scream filled the air. Evan ran over to the window to see all the adults floating towards the sky in bubbles. “Hawkmoth must’ve made a new villain!”

“We have to save them!” Evan lifted his hand in the air, providing easy access to his bracelet. “Tikki! Spots on!” Within a few flashes, Ladybug was suited up, ready for action. He leapt out the window and towards a giant cloud of bubbles formed above the Murphy Mansion.

Connor and Zoe were about to leave to go back to school when they heard music playing from the back of the house. “Really, Zoe? You had to bring your jazz band over for lunch?”

Zoe frowned. “Shut the fuck up, Connor. I didn’t do that,” she hissed as they walked towards the back of the house. Peering through the windows, the siblings saw a raging party with a strange colored man yelling out orders such as “don’t stop dancing” or “keep smiling before you join the adults”.

Plagg flew out of Connors hoodie pocket. “Whoa! That looks like the wildest party ever!”

Zoe squinted at the man and gasped as she came to a realization. “That’s Jared! It looks like he’s been akumatized!”

The eldest Murphy groaned. “Really? I have to save Kleinman’s ass on my birthday? Is this some kind of shitty joke?”

“Connor, relax and go party,” Plagg insisted. “No one seems like they’re hurt. There’s no need to fight the akuma yet. Just go have fun!”

“Don’t listen to him, Con,” Zoe said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a job to do. He said something about ‘joining the adults’ so obviously people are hurt somewhere. Don’t think of it as saving Kleinman; think of it as being able to work with Ladybug on your birthday,” she winked.

Connor blushed lightly and let his hair fall in front of his face in hopes of covering his cheeks. “Whatever. Ladybug’s not even here yet so I’m gonna listen to Plagg’s shitty advice,” he mumbled and walked outside. Connor lifted his head as people yelled out “happy birthday” when they saw him. Guess Plagg’s advice didn’t completely suck ass.

Zoe frowned as she watched Connor enter the party. “Ladybug, please hurry,” she whispered and followed her brother.

Within the big crowd of people, Clara pushed Samantha to the DJ booth where the Bubbler stood. “Um, can I, er, I request a slow dance,” she said.

The Bubbler laughed. “Isn’t it a little early for a slow dance?”

Clara groaned. “Do I have to do everything myself?” She pushed Samantha out of the way and smiled sweetly at the akumatized villain. “But it’s Connor’s first slow dance, ya know, since Zoe’s the only one who ever gets parties.”

“Oh! Gotcha!” The Bubbler put on a different record and smiled as everyone begrudgingly partnered up to dance.

Connor frowned as Clara walked up to him. “The fuck do you want?”

“A dance partner,” she giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. Connor frowned and kept his hands in his pockets.

Ladybug landed on the rooftop of the Murphy Mansion, watching the scene unfold. He gasped at the sight of his crush…dancing? Maybe?…with Clara. “Not on my watch,” he said and threw his yo-yo in the air. “Lucky Charm!” A record fell into his hands before he, with a quick glance of his surroundings, threw it against the wall, letting it bounce off and land on the DJ stand.

While everyone danced to the sudden upbeat music, Connor looked around for what caused the record to appear. His eyes widened and cheeks flushed as he caught Ladybug’s eye. “Ladybug?” Connor whispered and got away from Clara, trying to get closer to his crush.

Ladybug wanted nothing more to go down and dance with Connor, but unfortunately his Miraculous started beeping. He quickly dove in front of the gates of the Murphy Mansion—where no one stood, thankfully—to whisper “spots off.” Tikki flew out of Evan’s bracelet and landed in the palm of his hand once he de-transformed. “Are you alright, Tikki?”

The Kwami nodded. “I’ll be fine when I get some food. You know you can only use your Luck Charm once per transformation, right Evan?”

Evan nodded. “I know. But it was an emergency!”

“What was an emergency?”

Tikki quickly flew into the front pocket of Evan’s shirt as Alana walked towards her friend. “Uh, I, um, not, nothing was, actually. Just, ya know, talking to, um, myself, is all,” Evan stuttered out.

Alana nodded. “Makes sense. I do that all the time. But, hey, I’ve been looking for you all over the place! I’ve got something to show you,” she smiled and grabbed Evan’s hand, leading him through the gates and into the mansion. “Oh! Also, I grabbed you a cookie before someone took them all. I know you’re constantly eating them.”

Evan smiled. “Thanks,” he said and made sure she wasn’t paying attention before handing the cookie to his Kwami. Alana took him through the different hallways until they stopped at what appeared to be Connor’s room. Evan blushed profoundly as she tried to get him through the door. “A-Alana! I, er, we can’t go in there! That’s Connor’s room!”

The girl nodded. “I’m well aware of that, Evan. But your present for him his sitting on his bed! You can sign your name so he knows who it’s from,” she explained. Evan still would not budge. Alana sighed. “Fine. I’ll grab it and come back out,” she said before entering the room.

Tikki popped up out of Evan’s shirt pocket. “Why was she in Connor’s room in the first place?”

Evan shrugged. “You know Alana. She’s always trying to know everything,” he smiled. He patted Tikki’s tiny head back into his pocket just as Alana came back out. She handed him the present and a pen. Evan thanked her and quickly wrote on the wrapping of the present.

Dear Connor Murphy,

Have a wonderful birthday!

Sincerely, Evan Hansen

“I’m gonna go look for Zoe. I’ll see you out there, Ev,” Alana said before heading out.

Tikki flew out of Evan’s pocket once his friend left. “Evan, it’s time to transform!”

The boy nodded. “Tikki, spots on!” Once Ladybug transformed, he leapt out the window and back outside. There, he saw the Bubbler putting people in bubbles if they did not follow his orders. “Hate to burst your bubble, Bubbler, but this party’s canceled,” Ladybug said, landing in front of the villain.

“Ladybug!” Alana smiled and took out her phone, starting to record another segment for her Ladyblog.

Connor looked at Zoe as Ladybug landed. His sister nodded and covered for him as he ran inside to transform. “Plagg, claws o-“

“Nah. I don’t feel like it,” the Kwami said as he floated around Connor. “I’m sure Ladybug can handle this himself. Besides, do you really want to help Kleinman of all people?”

Connor frowned and grabbed Plagg, stomping into the kitchen to grab some cheese. “You lazy ass cat,” he mumbled and gave the piece of cheese to him.

Plagg quickly devoured the cheese and smiled. “Okay, we can transform now.”

The birthday boy sighed and held out his ring. “Plagg, claws out!” In a flash of green light, Chat Noir stood proudly in the Murphy’s kitchen. He grabbed a nearby hair-tie to pull his brown, curly locks back into a messy bun. A smirk decorated his face as he snuck outside and landed beside Ladybug. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my bug?”

Ladybug rolled his eyes. “Can it, Chat Noir. We’ve got more important things to worry about than your attempts at flirting.”

“Meowch! You’ve wounded me,” Chat said and frowned as Bubbler laughed.

“You two think you can stop me? Think again!” The Bubbler pulled out his bubble wand. He blew on it and let thousands of tiny green bubbles rocket towards the hero’s.

Ladybug and Chat Noir dodged the bubbles the best they could. Chat popped them with his staff as they flew by whereas Ladybug used his yo-yo. But unfortunately, some of the bubbles stuck to their arms and legs, preventing them form being able to move. The bubbles on them flew together and merged to create one giant bubble, trapping them both.

“There! Now you can join the adults you care so deeply about,” Bubbler smirked.

Ladybug frowned and climbed over Chat to get to the edge of the bubble. “Kids need adults, Bubbler! They provide the love and support that they need!”

“At least most do,” Chat Noir whispered under his breath.

“Well now you can get that. So long, Ladybug and Chat Noir!” With a swift kick, the Bubbler launched the bubble into the air.

Ladybug frowned as they ascended. “We’ve gotta find a way out of here!”

“Why? Do you not enjoy my presence, Bugaboo?” Chat Noir teased, leaning closer to the red hero.

Ladybug rolled his eyes. “Not right now, Chat.”

“Oh, come on, my bug. Just a peck,” Chat Noir smirked and pursed his lips for a kiss.

“Chat, use your Cataclysm to pop the bubble.”

Chat Noir sighed. “Cataclysm!” His hand filled with energy before he placed his hand on the bubble, causing it to pop and send them hurtling back towards the ground.

Ladybug threw his yo-yo out towards one of the nearby buildings, grabbed Chat Noir by the waist, and swung down to safety. Ladybug retracted his yo-yo. “We’ve gotta get back to the party and destroy that bubble wand. I’m almost positive that’s where the Akuma is.”

“Where is everyone? Get out here and have fun! It’s a party!” Bubbler yelled, threatening them with his bubble wand.

“Not anymore. Party’s over, Bubbler,” Ladybug announced as he and Chat Noir landed on a nearby rooftop.

“Ladybug!” Alana smiled and led her fellow classmates in cheering her name.

The Bubbler growled. “You’re all such party poopers! Just like the adults!” He then turned to the other teens and, with a swipe of his wand, encased them all in bubbles. “Go and join them,” he said and laughed as they flew up into the air.

“No!” The hero’s watched in horror as their classmates flew towards the clouds.

Chat Noir’s ring beeped, indicating that he only had five minutes left. “We’ve gotta hurry, Ladybug, before I transform back!”  Ladybug nodded and threw his yo-yo into the air. “Lucky Charm!” In a flurry of tiny ladybugs, a wrench dropped into his hands. “A wrench? What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Bang me.”

“No, Chat. That’s a hammer.”

“Shit! Screw me?”

“No, Chat. That’s a screwdriver.”

“Fucking damn it!”

“Chat have you ever picked up a tool in your life?”

“Can’t say I have, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug rolled his eyes and looked around for an idea of how to stop the Bubbler. He spots a vent on the nearby roof. “Chat, cover me!”

The cat-boy nodded. “Gotcha!” Chat coaxed the Bubbler over to the vent. “Bet you can’t trap me in a bubble again,” he teased.

Ladybug ran over to the vent and used the wrench to get the pipe off the vent so that the air shot upwards.

The Bubbler didn’t notice as he was shooting bubbles at Chat Noir. Said cat was running closer to the vent and quickly ducked behind the air before he got it. The air deflected any bubble that came towards it. Bubbler, in an act of frustration, lifted his wand into the air in hopes of throwing bubbles over top of the air.

Instead, Ladybug threw his yo-yo and grabbed the wand. He broke the bubble wand over his knee and smiled as the Akuma flew out. “No more evil-doing for you, little Akuma,” Ladybug said as he unlocked his yo-yo cap. “Time to de-evilize!” He quickly captured the little black and purple butterfly and locked it in his yo-yo to fix. “Gotcha!” With a quick press of the cap, a pure white butterfly flew out into the world. “Bye-bye, little butterfly.” Ladybug picked up the wrench from earlier and threw it into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

With a swipe of pink light, everything turned back to normal. The adults and teens were brought safely back down to earth and everything that had been broken was fixed. Even Jared turned back to his normal, jerky self. “Wh…what happened?” Jared asked as he regained his senses.

Ladybug and Chat Noir smiled and bumped fists. “Pound it!”

Back in a secret hideout, Hawkmoth watched the scene unfold. “You may have won this time, Ladybug and Chat Noir. But I will one day reign victorious!”

“Cynthia?” Larry asked when his wife answered the phone. He had gotten called into work so unfortunately couldn’t speak with her in person.

“Yes, Larry?” Cynthia answered, cutting up some carrots for dinner.

“I, um, I…I didn’t get Connor a gift.”

His wife sighed. “I figured as much. That’s why I bought an extra gift. You can give it to him at dinner tonight.”

Larry let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Cynthia. I’ll see you then.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Hey, Hansen.”

Evan jumped in surprise. He turned around a gulped at the sight of Connor. “O-oh! Uh, hi, um, hey, C-Connor. What’s, um, why, what’s up?” Evan somehow managed to stutter out.

“I just wanted to say thanks for the gift. I really like it,” Connor said and pulled the gift out of his bag. It was a new sketch book, but clipped onto every page was a different photo of things Connor liked. That way he always has inspiration for things to draw. “Did you take these photos?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I, um, I did. It’s just a, some stuff that, you know, that I’ve, er, um, I know you like? I, uh, actually talked, asked Zoe for help? Cause they’re were like a few pages left and I didn’t know what photos to put on them cause you know we don’t really talk that much which sucks but it’s fine or whatever so you should thank her too but I’m rabbling I’m sorry,” Evan said and blushed towards the end.

Connor nodded. “Don’t be sorry for a stupid reason, Evan,” he said. Connor gave Evan a little wave before walking into class.

Alana and Jared smiled at Evan. “Hey! It looked like Connor really liked your present,” Alana said as they walked over.

Evan nodded. “I know, er, at least, think he like, liked it, too!”

Jared rolled his eyes and blew bubbles in Alana’s face. “Will you stop that, Jared?”

“Why? I’m just having fun,” he laughed and continued with his antics. That was, until Zoe walked over and smacked Jared’s bubbles out of his hands. “Hey!”

“I’m not floating up into the air again, Jared. So just deal with it,” Zoe smirked and walked with Alana into the class.

“Bitch,” Jared mumbled and followed them.

“I heard that, Kleinman!”

Evan laughed and walked into class, going to his seat behind Connor and next to Jared. He smiled as he watched Connor start a sketch on the page with a photo of a Weeping Willow.

#deh #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #evan hansen x connor murphy #tree bros #convan #ml #miraculous ladybug #dear miraculous ladybug #i-also-write

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amercsmemoirs · 7 years

Text

ZevWarden Week, Day 7: Commitment

OKAY this is quite late;;; my apologies.

For Commitment Day, I’m posting Bésame!

"Isabela?"

Allura Mahariel looked up at Zevran Arainai, someone she was currently not on speaking terms with, and noted his surprised, awed expression. He looked the beautiful, charming, mystery woman up and down, and the woman returned his call with a warm smile. "Zevran! How long has it been?" Zevran sauntered up to this Isabela, standing annoyingly close to her as they laughed and talked. "Time has been kind to you, my friend," Zevran complimented her. "Such a shame I can't say the same for you!" Isabela laughed. Even her laugh sounded pretty, Creators. "Come to think of it," Zevran began thoughtfully, "the last time I saw you, you were -" "Don't bring up old memories, sweet thing," Isabela interrupted. "I prefer my imagination to what really happened." Leliana gasped behind Allura and muttered "Scandalous!" under her breath. Even Wynne tutted disapprovingly. That part didn't bother Allura; she was fully aware of Zevran's colorful sexual history before they met. It was what’s happening right now in front of her eyes that was agitating her. Zevran was flirting with Isabela, right in front of her! Like she wasn't even there! Why did he volunteer to come with them if he was still annoyed about yesterday? Come to think of it, why did he also sleep in her tent if he was so... disgruntled? That word gave Allura pause; she couldn't help but think about how furrowed his brow got when he thought she wasn't looking, or the slight pout when she didn't make eye contact. She grinned despite herself. Adorable, she thought. "Oh? Are we quite amusing, my dear Warden?" That was the second thing he'd said to her all day. She wanted to tell him she was thinking about how cute he looked when he was pouting, how she hated that they weren't talking. But with Leliana glaring daggers into the back of his skull (which he tactfully ignored), Wynne showing off her best "I told you so" face, and Zevran openly flirting with another woman, Allura decided against being overly sentimental. "Not at all," Allura responded nonchalantly. The easy way they flirted, the lack of distance between them as they stood side by side... she put a frustrated hand on her hip, despite herself. "Do you know each other?" "Indeed; this is Isabela," Zevran answered with a coy smirk. There was something about the way he said her name that made Allura uneasy. "Queen of the Eastern Seas, and the sharpest blade in Neverra. And Isabela," he turned to his friend, "you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with a Grey Warden." "A Grey Warden?" Isabela repeated, impressed. "Charmed."

"An-" Allira cut herself off and frowned. She wanted to say "Aneth ara," but remembered her fight with Zevran. "It's good to meet you, Isabela," Allura greeted her, ignoring Zevran's quirked eyebrow. "You don't see many elven Grey Wardens," Isabela began, a sly look in her eye. "Is it true what about a Grey Warden's ... endurance?" Allura's heart skipped a beat. Not because of Isabela's obvious charm or her seductive gaze as she closed the distance between them; no, it was because Zevran’s voice echoed in her mind; it was a few weeks ago by now, true, but she couldn’t forget his low voice in her ear, the morning after, whispering his own opinions about her “Grey Warden endurance.” Allura closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, Isabela was so close, Allura could practically see her... heartbeat pulsing over her armor. Creators, Allura swore inwardly, and forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I have met... few Grey Wardens in the short time I've been one; I do not have many acquaintances to compare myself to." Allura's face felt like it was boiling, and Isabela's confident smirk meant she could also tell. Allura frowned, embarrassed, and took a deep breath and a step back. "We should get going, Isabela. It was great meeting you." Allura turned towards the door, catching Zevran's annoyed face as he followed behind her. "Zevran, you're leaving already?" Allura could hear the whine in Isabela's voice behind her. "What about sex?" Allura's blood ran cold. Her heart seemed to stop and speed up at the same time. Despite her panic, she refused to look at him. She turned away to leave, but she could still hear his response: "Would if I could, my dear, but I have a... previous engagement." As Zevran and Isabela said their goodbyes, Allura held back rolling her eyes and strolled out of the Pearl. ~~~~~~~~~~ Back at camp, Allura didn't say more than a few greetings before she returned to her tent. He didn't want to admit it, but Zevran was... concerned. He'd never seen Allura flustered over anyone but him before. Of course, they hadn't known each other long, but he liked to think he knew her better than the rest of the team. Zevran let out a breath. He should make sure her meeting Isabela didn’t have any… lingering effects. As he stood, he noticed Leliana staring at him from in front of her tent while whispering furiously to Alistair. Probably about his flirting with Isabela in front of Allura. 'There was no harm in it, dear Leliana' he wanted to say. 'Neither of us want to tie the other down; she's also free to flirt with whomever she pleases.' At that, he frowned. He felt some... pressure? in his stomach. Curious... He instead flashed a smile at Leliana, which made her flush angrily and whisper at Alistair faster. Zevran held back a laugh and continued towards Allura's tent. The tent flap pulled back, and Allura looked up at him, surprised. "Oh Zevran," she said, throwing one hand behind her back. "An- ... Did you need anything?" He raised an eyebrow, curious. That’s twice she’s avoided speaking Dalish in front of him. She couldn’t be that annoyed with yesterday, could she? "Do I need a reason to check on my favorite Grey Warden?" He smirked. Disbelief covered her face, and his heart sank, for some reason. But then she grinned. "Of course not," she replied, somewhat tersely, as she pushed past him. He caught the distinct clink of coins bouncing in time with her steps. "Unless you were worried about something?" "Do I have something to be concerned about? For instance, where you're going with a small satchel of sovereigns?," he added, a smile plastered in his face. She didn't seem surprised he knew, though she'd made an effort to hide it. "I'm going to a bar for a drink," she answered curtly. "You're welcome to join me, not follow, although I would prefer to go alone." Zevran's jaw clenched. If Allura noticed, she didn't react. What was it that he thought earlier? She's allowed to flirt with whomever she likes? "Of course," he muttered after a pause. "Enjoy yourself." Allura smiled, unamused, and called for her mabari Fen'or as she walked out of the camp.

Zevran bit the inside of his cheek; he was sure he’d earned his place in the group at this point. Alistair and Morrigan have even let him cook dinner unsupervised by now, so he was sure he could stay even if he and Allura were no longer …. Well, “involved”. And she was stubborn and immovable but she was also kind at heart; she wouldn’t make him leave. But would he want to stay? If every time someone glanced at him, with every interaction, their eyes were filled with pity?

Zevran was many things, but pitiable was not one of them.

He’d promised Allura when she spared his life that he would be at her disposal until the day she no longer needed him; he would keep that promise. Even if she told him when she returned that she didn’t want him, he’d already decided that he would stay with her until the Archdemon was killed. But afterwards….

Allura had already given him many gold and silver bars during their travels; he’d be set for a few months after everything is finished. Zevran wasn’t sure how this would end, but it may be time to start committing to his contingency plan. ~~~~~~~~ Allura sighed and rested her forehead on the bar counter. Fen'or sat in the foyer, eating the steak she’d bought for him. She'd already had 2 and a half cups of ale - the cups were almost as big as her head - and Creators, did she feel it. But she needed to get the sight of Zevran flirting with Isabela -- She lifted her head and - ignoring the vertigo - finished the rest of her cup. She groaned and held her forehead in her hands. Big mistake. She could feel her brain floating around in her skull. The slightest movement made her head and eyes scream in pain; when was the last time she felt this bad - " .... you alright, sweetheart? I .... had enough...." The barkeep's voice faded in and out, but Allura got the gist; she was cutting her off. "Tel.... telsila... ar'm...." Allura struggled to think an appropriate lie, but the words escaped her - there's was too much noise, too many people laughing and talking for her to think straight - "Don't ... I've got her." Allura recognized the voice next to her - it wasn't that familiar but she knew it, who - ? She turned her head - and did her best to suppress the wince - Isabela smirked down at her and winked, drinking her own cup of ale. Creators. "And put my drink on her tab!" she called out to the barkeep. Then to Allura, "Consider it payment for saving you from the hovering vultures." The exact person she did not want to see, sitting next to her as if they were old friends, why is this happening? "Fenedhis -" The room swirled and suddenly Allura was doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor under her and Isabela’s feet. ~~~~~~~~~ An hour later, Isabela had rented a room and brought Allura copious amounts of water and bread, for which the elf was more grateful than she cared to admit. Allura sat on the couch without much fuss; she'd caused the poor woman enough trouble already. Allura squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the room the spinning. When that didn't work, she held her head in her hands and groaned lowly. "You know, letting your hair down would help with the headache," Isabela advised from behind her. Allura grunted in acknowledgement, but remained still. It probably would help - her bun was always tight - but the movement seemed so extraneous. Allura heard a light chuckle behind her as her hair came undone and her dark brown hair fell around her neck and shoulders. Her head felt cool and light, the pressure falling away. "Ma serannas,” Allura mumbled into her hands. "Ir abelas..." "You speak a lot of Dalish when you're drunk, don't you?" With a short laugh, Allura lifted her head. "Thank you, Isabela. I'm sorry to put you through this." "No worries." Allura could hear the smirk in her voice. "Now you owe me for the save and the room." The elf grunted again, thankful she hadn't spent many of the sovereigns yet. They sat together in silence for a time. Allura wouldn't describe it as comforting, but it was welcome. Allura wasn't even alarmed when Isabela quietly moved from behind the couch to the coffee table in front of it. But then she spoke. "So is there a reason you were getting hammered in a brothel alone?" Allura never understood why it was called a brothel. It's where people go to pay for sex, not eat soup. Although, soup could be served here... "I was not alone," Allura refuted, head back in her hands. "Fen'or is with me." Fen'or, who had been brought in after Isabela reserved for the room, perked up and barked once happily. "You know what I mean." Allura sighed and lifted her head. "Creators, I needed to get the image of Zevran flirting with you out of my head." Isabela's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. It was worth the discomfort moving caused to see this gorgeous, confident woman so off guard. "You and Zevran? You're... together?" "Yes." "Like... together together?" "Yes." She made her annoyance clear with that one syllable. "Wow. I've never took him for a 'settle down' type." Allura had to agree. She'd heard his stories; she's always wondered why such a worldly, charming, deadly elf would be interested in being with her. She couldn't think of anything remotely interesting about herself.

"Wait." Isabela's confused voice broke Allura from her reverie. "Why would you come here if you're trying to forget what I looked like?" "Fenedhis, I spent the whole day killing gang members in every other bar in Denerim. I couldn't risk going to a bar in their territory and running into them alone." Allura sighed. "I may be strong, but I am one elf." She never felt like that before meeting Zevran, or anyone else in the group. She never felt so insignificant before. But as much as she could do on her own, what she can do now, with the people she calls friends, is so much more. There was no comparison. "Not that any of it will matter soon," Allura sighed, returning her head to her forehead. "I'm sure we'll both be single in no time. I guess we're... fighting." "You're fighting?," Isabela asked with the same incredulous tone of voice. "Yes." Allura let out another sigh. "What did you do when you and Zevran fought...?" "Us? Sweet thing, Zevran and I were never together-together. Actually, I've never known him to be serious with anyone - almost anyone." While she didn't like how Isabela said "almost anyone," the confirmation was much appreciated. Allura lifted her head and grinned. "Good to know." Isabela smirked. "Alright, I'll help you out. What's going on?"

Allura had no idea why such a woman would be interested in helping her with her relationship problems, but she was grateful for the offer. So grateful, in fact, she decided not to question it.

"I'm not very... interesting, Isabela. Not like Zevran. But I am Dalish, which may be vaguely interesting to other people." Allura was rambling, which was new to her. She could always blame the ale if Isabela ever spoke about this. "And I wanted to teach him Dalish, even if it's the little bit that I know. But he wouldn't learn it." Isabela tilted her head curiously. "Isn't Dalish dying even among the Dalish already? No one really uses it outside your clan, right?" There it was. The same thing Zevran said. Her heart clenched and she sighed. "Oh... I see. Zevran said that too." Allura was glad her new friend didn’t make her say it. Isabela crossed her legs on the table. "But it wasn't about learning Dalish to use it, was it?" "... No," Allura answered quietly. "I miss my people. The Keeper, my friends, the Halla. Merrill, and," she took a deep breath, "Tamlen." She breathed out, ignoring how shaky her voice was going to be. "I miss them, and if I could share it with Zevran, I would miss them less, and we could talk in secret. We could be closer." The silence this time was a little deafening. Allura peeked at Isabela and saw she was looking at her thoughtfully. The elf raised a curious eyebrow. "What is it?" "What is it that you care about more," Isabela started carefully, "Zevran speaking Dalish, or the both of you speaking the same thing?" Zevran speaking Dalish, Allura thought immediately. But of course that was her answer; she was stubborn and hard headed, and pushed too much. Zevran was the opposite; despite the way he acted, he cared so much, but never forced anyone to do anything they didn't want to. She wanted him to be more open with her, but she needed to give a little too. "I just want us to be closer." Her voice was lower, smaller than it'd ever been before, but she could still hear it echo around the room. It was somehow terrifying and humbling to realize that she just wanted to be with him more when they weren't in combat. "Fine." Isabela's voice cut through the echo in Allura's head. "I'll help you." Allura looked up curiously, and saw Isabela looking smug and confident, but just a little bit softer than earlier that day. "I don't know much Antivan," Isabela began. "But I know enough to fix this." "Really, Isabela? Ma serannas -" "- For a price." Allura deflated just a bit, but there was no way she was going to turn her down. "Five sovereigns a night," Allura offered. "Nine." "Six, and I buy you dinner every night." "Deal! My, Allura. You sure know how to sweet talk a gal." Isabela fanned herself with a grin. "Thank you, Isabela. This means a -" "Yes, yes, you're grateful, have no idea how to thank me, blah, blah." Isabela got off the table and walked to the door, waving off Allura's heartfelt exclamations of gratitude. She stopped briefly to pet Fen'or. "Meet here an hour after sunset for dinner. You're paying for the room too." Then Isabela winked and she was gone. ~~~~~~ Allura made it back to the camp much later than Zevran expected her. Alistair, who was on watch, greeted her as she walked past the fire and entered her tent. She paused at the entrance - maybe surprised to see Zevran curled in the bedroll next to hers? - and she let out a sigh. Disappointment? Annoyance? He should just confront her now - but what would she say? Zevran remained still. Allura disrobed and slipped into her bed roll. She hesitated before laying down. He heard some shuffling, and felt her hand against his back. It was brief but warm, and he could feel each finger pressed against his shoulder blade. He ignored the chill the absence of her hand created. ----- The next morning, Zevran was awakened by the sound of metal against metal and light footsteps. He turned to see Allura was already dressing. "Going somewhere so early?," he asked.

"Oh! Good morning, Zevran." Allura turned and smiled. Her armor - from her helm to her boots - was already on and she was gathering her satchel from the floor. He noticed that it was much lighter than when she left. She couldn't have drunk that much, could she? "How was the bar?" Her eyes widened and darted to the side briefly. "It was... fine. I ran into Isabela. We - had a drink." Zevran's heart clenched - why? He’d asked Isabela to keep an eye on her, why bother getting upset that they had a drink? Because Allura wasn’t telling the whole truth. He forced a smile. "That's great. I'm... pleased you get along." "She's much more agreeable than I thought she was," Allura admitted with a laugh. "We're going out for drinks again tonight." His blood ran cold; he couldn't - no wouldn't - point out why. He sat up, ignoring the dread he felt. "That's... great. I'm - " "Sorry, vhenan, I need to make some money before tonight. I'll see you afterwards." With a smile and a small wave, she slipped out of the tent and was off. She didn't sound angry; she even referred to him by her Elven pet name for him.

Perhaps… she was over the fight. Maybe drinking with Isabela did truly help, and when she returned tonight, everything will go back to normal. ------ Things did not go back to normal. The pattern continued for another three days; Allura would wake up early every morning, leave early, come back to complete group missions to earn money for the night, go for "drinks with Isabela," come back very late, and sleep. She stayed up for her shifts for the night watch and kept up with her responsibilities. But he hadn't seen her eat in days. She had to though; her satchel was full every day before group missions and considerably lighter when she returned at night. If he asked her about her disappearances, or why she needed so much money every day, or why she was drinking with Isabela so often, she would give him a flimsy excuse and wave it off. “I��m allowed time to myself, correct?” “Bars are so much more expensive in human port towns than the forest ones.” “She’s such an interesting person!” It wasn’t in his nature to push and make someone do something. But he would get an answer tonight. ~~~~~~~~ Allura strolled back into camp, late as usual, with a bit more of a skip in her step. Isabela’s lessons were almost over! She’d be able to talk to Zevran privately, even around the group. Sure, her accent still needed work, and she never emphasized the right syllable, but it was something. There was progress.

She was in such high spirits she didn’t notice Zevran perched in the tree above her until he dropped down in front of her. His brow was furrowed, he looked as if he’d been up there all night, and she’d never wanted to hold him more than at that moment.

Zevran did not look like he felt the same, despite the smile he plastered onto his face. “How was ‘drinks with Isabela’?”

Allura’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why was he so obsessed with knowing that answer? What would it matter to him anyway? She’s been in a much better mood since going out for drinks, all to surprise him, and she never lied about where she was or who she was with. What could be the problem?

“I don’t understand why you’re upset…”

Then the reason dawned on her. To him, they were still “in a fight.” She resolved the issue she’d had without telling her partner about it. So, now she’s in a better mood, but she’s not spending any time with him; instead, she’s with someone else every chance she gets. She covered her face, ashamed. This entire plan happened because she wanted to get closer to him, and she forgot to talk to him about it.

“Zevran, I’m sorry - ”

“We began this agreeing not to tie each other down, no? I just imagined we would be adults and talk to each other about this.” He gestured between the two of them. “If you prefer Isabela’s company, then I will not stand in your way -”

“Zevran, no, that is not what’s happening - ”

“Then why else have you spent every night this week with her?”

“Because she has been teaching me how to speak Antivan.” For a second, she was surprised at how quickly she confessed the truth to him. But the frustration on his face fell away to reveal the confusion and loneliness he must have been feeling for days; she needed to fix this as soon as possible.

“But why… would you want that? Why would she agree?” The confusion and disbelief in his voice hurt her for some reason, but she couldn’t act on it.

“I… I wanted her to teach me Antivan so I could spend more time with you. I wanted to do more than train to fight Darkspawn with you when we weren’t actually fighting Darkspawn. Fenedhis, I got caught up in the excitement and didn’t realize I wasn’t spending any time with you at all. I am sorry to have worried you so much.”

She was! She couldn’t express that enough. But she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t believe her now.

“... What did she teach you?”

Allura flushed; she wasn’t confident enough to actually say it yet.

Her silence must have annoyed him, because the next thing he said was an ultimatum: “If you can’t tell me yourself, perhaps I should ask Isabela personally.”

Allura reached out for his hand. Her fingertips brushed past the back of his hand, and she hesitated before grabbing him. She took a deep breath before latching onto his hand.

“Bésame.”

Her lover turned, disbelief plain on his face. No, she was still saying it wrong. And it's a song, she has to sing it.

“Bésame mucho. Que tengo miedo perderte, perderte después.”

Zevran shook his hand from hers and she wanted to cry. Of course she took too long to realize what she'd done, and he's moved on. She heard him sigh and braced herself for the sound of his footsteps away from her.

Instead, he walked towards her and before she could react his lips were on hers. She froze. His lips were warm and soft and urgent and it pained her when he broke away.

“Your accent is terrible.”

He kissed her again.

“You don't put enough emphasis on the accents.”

He kissed her again. This time, she kissed back.

“You aren't singing in tune with the song.”

Another kiss.

“Your lessons could use some improvement.”

Flushed and breathless, Allura secretly hoped he'd kiss her again. It’d been so long since she’d even held him, his kisses almost overwhelmed her --

“Can you teach me?”

He smirked and held her face in his calloused hands.

“Of course, mi amor.” Zevran rested his forehead on his, and she caught his scent: leather and herbs and sandalwood. She took a deep breath and sighed.

Her lover raised his chin and kissed her again, slowly this time, more deliberately than before. She shuddered, just a little, and pulled him closer to her. She rested her head against his shoulder; she’d forgotten how comfortable the fit was.

“Vhenan?” Allura murmured into his chest.

“Hmm?” Zevran hummed.

“Would you…” She paused. “Would you sing it for me?”

“Ah. But of course,” he began. “If you could do something for me.”

Anything, she thought. “Depends on what it is,” was what she said.

He chuckled. “Would you tell me what ‘vhenan’ means?”

Allura broke away, alarmed. Why would he want to know now? Was he pitying her?

“But you said…,” she trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“I did,” he finished. “I told you Dalish was a dying language. So,” he continued, grabbing both of her hands. “Teach me what you know.”

He waited patiently, holding eye contact, while she pieced this together. What could he gain from learning a dying language? Nothing tangible for sure -

But he could gain her. Assuming she was what he wanted.

She let out a breathy chuckle. She could hope.

“Vhenan is short for ma’vhenan,” she began. “‘My heart.’” Without missing a beat, she asked, “What does ‘amor’ mean?”

She held back a frown when she said it. When he calls her ‘amor,’ the word is light, airy, somehow musical. It sounded flat and dull in her own voice.

Zevran smiled and broke eye contact, briefly. If she didn’t know any better, Allura would swear he was embarrassed.

“‘Mi amor,” he corrected her. “‘My love.’”

So she should hope.

“How about we retire to my tent,” she proposed, “and you can sing for me?”

“Only if you promise to sing for me,” he offered with a sly smirk and a wink.

She felt her cheeks heat up but allowed herself to be led to her tent. She laid in the cot next to her love, and listened to his song.

#zevwarden week 2017 #zevran arainai #allura mahariel #zevran #why did i have to spend so long italicizing things #Allura are you secretly;;;;;; extra??#anyways you know why this whole fic started #cuz my spanish teacher from a year ago gave us the lyrics to Bésame #and i couldnt stop thinking about this happening #and it took me a fucking;;;#year to finish but hey its done #anyway #uhh here it is #i went on a trip last week and couldnt finish - well - FINISHING this story #the ending needed work;;;;;#but now its better i guess hahaha #and uhhhh #enjoy

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West Week Ever: Pop Culture In Review - 6/2/17

Whoo boy! This is gonna be a controversial one this week, but I’ve got some stuff to get off my chest.

First up, there was controversy surrounding the new Wonder Woman film (in theaters now!). Theater chain Alamo Drafthouse announced women-only screenings for the film, where proceeds would go to women’s charities, including Planned Parenthood. Originally planned to be 5 screenings at the Austin and Brooklyn locations, tickets sold out instantly and more screenings were added. According to Alamo, the screenings were meant to be a celebration of “Girl Power”, and were only open to those who identified as women. Now, this isn’t the first time Alamo has done special screenings, as they have screenings for active military members, as well as for children with special sensory needs. I’ve also heard other explanations, like the screenings give women a safe space to watch the film without having it mansplained to them the entire time. But, of course, the social media shitstorm started. A lot of folks who might be considered Men’s Rights Activists felt that this was discrimination, and that they should retaliate with all-male screenings of the next Star Wars movie.

As Twitter was dead over the holiday weekend, I tweeted that the backlash to the screening was stupid, but the screening itself is also kinda stupid. Now, hear me out: I see both sides of the issue here. Alamo wanted to make a fun exclusive event to celebrate the release of a movie starring a female superhero. That doesn’t happen every day, so it was a cause to celebrate. I’m not “butthurt” over the idea. That said, Alamo had to know they’d get this kind of reaction, as this kind of thing is somewhat of a slippery slope. “How is it a slippery slope, Will?” So glad you asked! Let’s, for a moment, propose a different kind of screening. Let’s say it was a Black Only screening of Get Out. I mean, it had a similar pedigree in that it was a Black horror/suspense film from a Black director – something that also doesn’t happen every day. You’d better believe people would have a problem with that! Sure, it could be spun as a celebration “for the culture”, meant to foster community and whatnot, but White people would shit ALL the bricks! So, as this has been great publicity for both Wonder Woman and Alamo Drafthouse, they knew exactly what they were doing when they set out to do this. In the long run, this isn’t gonna hurt Alamo or Wonder Woman one bit, but let’s not act like this was some kind of altruistic celebration of sisterhood. This was Shrewd Marketing 101.

See? I toldja this would be a controversial one, and I’m just getting started!

Let’s visit the world where Hollywood and politics intersect. You see, comedienne Kathy Griffin posted a photo of herself holding what was meant to be Donald Trump’s severed head. AND PEOPLE LOST THEIR MINDS! Trump, himself, even took time off from golfing and nudging his way to the front of photo ops to tweet about it, saying that it had affected his 11 year-old son, Barron, who apparently thought the photo was real. The backlash was strong against Griffin, who apologized hours later, but still ending up losing her Squatty Potty endorsement, as well as her CNN New Year’s Eve gig with Anderson Cooper. A lot of people seem to be in agreement of the backlash, but I’m gonna take a different approach: I don’t think the photo was that bad.

There are so many things to unpack here, so bear with me as I try to navigate through all of it. Societies have a history of burning politicians in effigy as a form of protest so, while extreme, how is this any different? Had she actually decapitated the man, and was brandishing his severed head on social media as some sort of trophy, that would’ve been too far. Like it or not, this was “art”, and you don’t really get to judge art. It can make you uncomfortable but at least it triggered some sort of opinion or emotion, which means it did its job.

I also feel like this is a situation where folks are more upset by the messenger than the message. Kathy Griffin isn’t taken seriously. We’ve put her in this box along with Andy Dick and several other unpredictable, slightly unstable comedians who at one time did a stint on an NBC sitcom. We don’t expect anything “deep” from her, because we’ve already written her off. She knows this, as she’s in on the joke. I mean, her reality series was called My Life On The D-List, so she knows she’s not a top-tier celebrity. Still, she has a team behind her, as everyone in Hollywood does, and they all decided that this was something she was going to do. Maybe she felt it’d just blow over because of her lessened celebrity status, or maybe it’s doing just what she thought it would. A friend and I were talking about it the other night, and he’s the one who made me realize it was the messenger we were blaming here. After all, if Samantha Bee had done this, liberals would be creaming their jeans about how daring and smart it was. Why? Because that’s what people expect of her. Griffin made the simple mistake of veering out of her lane, and that’s how we got to where we are now.

Now, let’s look at the photographer, Tyler Shields, whose work tends to push boundaries like this. For him, this was just another Tuesday photoshoot, and this isn’t the first time that Griffin has worked with him. I mean, just look at some of his work above. He likes weird shit, but again, it’s art and we don’t really get to police it.

Meanwhile, there’s the whole thing about Barron thinking the photo was real. That poor, poor boy. To quote Hank Hill, “That boy ain’t right”, and the family either refuses to acknowledge it or is dealing with it in secret. On the one hand, I guess I have to commend the fact that we’ve “grown” to the point of saying “Kids are off limits”, but I find it convenient that we’re adopting that stance now. Where was that when comedians were calling little Chelsea Clinton a “dog” every chance they got? Where was that when Sasha and Malia had to see the stuff folks said about them and their family? It’s a shame that Barron doesn’t know the difference between a photo and reality but, as one Tweeter put it, it wouldn’t be an issue if Donald actually lived with his son. But I digress. I think this whole thing has been blown way out of proportion to dominate the news cycle. After all, last weekend it was looking like Jared Kushner was in the hot seat, and then next thing you know, it’s Kathy Griffin this, and covfefe that.

Where to next? Oh yeah, remember Mary Kay Letourneau? She was one of the first stories of teachers sleeping with their students to hit the news. Back in the late 90s, Letourneau fell in love with her student, 12 year old Vili Fualaau, and ended up getting impregnate by him. She was convicted of child rape, served 3 months in jail, and THEN got caught having sex with Fualaau in her car just two weeks after her release. And she got pregnant again. She served 6 years that time, but married Fualaau when she got out. And they lived happily ever after…until May 9th of this year, when Fualaau filed for legal separation from Letourneau. Now 33, perhaps Letourneau simply got too old for him at 55. But the plot thickens! Yesterday, that bastion of journalistic integrity, The New York Post, reported that the separation was really just something of a scam. You see, Fualaau wants to get a license to sell pot, but he knows they’ll do a background check before granting it to him, and it wouldn’t look good to be married to a registered sex offender. He claims they’re still in love and this is just a business arrangement. So, while he awaits his pot license, he’s working as a DJ in Washington state. Too bad she couldn’t fuck some ambition into him all those years ago! Fun fact: one of Letourneau’s brothers is a foreign policy adviser to the president. He’s clearly been doing a heck of a job lately!

Still here? OK, then let’s talk about some pop culture stuff. Someone at NBC must’ve read my Upfronts post, as they just announced changes that perfectly mirror my suggestions. This Is Us will no longer be moving to Thursday, and will stay put on Tuesday nights. Meanwhile, the comedies planned for Tuesday, Superstore and The Good Place, are moving to Thursday to join Will & Grace and Great News for a 2-hour comedy block. This is how it alway should’ve been, and I’m not quite sure what’s going on at NBC. From the cancellation/uncancellation of Timeless to this new schedule scramble, it makes you wonder who’s at the wheel over there. Still, I think these are smart moves, so hopefully they’ll work out in the long run.

The hardest working man in Hollywood, Ryan Seacrest, is developing a new show. Best.Cover.Ever. will air on YouTube and will feature people singing cover songs, vying for the chance to sing a duet with the original artist of the song they sang. Hosted by Ludacris, the show will feature Demi Lovato, Jason Derulo, and Backstreet Boys to start out. Contestants are asked to upload videos of covers of “Trumpets”, “Confident”, and “As Long As You Love Me”. The artists will each choose two finalists, who will be the contestants actually featured on the show. The winner gets to duet with the original artist for an exclusive YouTube performance. It’s an interesting concept, and it requires a partnership with a streaming service to work, but I’m still not sure it’s going to be successful. I’m also surprised that it’s not on YouTube Red, where they can charge for it. After all, nobody really talks about the offerings on YouTube Red, but this is the kind of thing that could get folks talking and maybe boost subscriptions. I’m a sucker for “As Long As You Love Me”, so I’ll be keeping tabs on this just to see how it fares.

Major news in the world of pop music this morning, as will.i.am confirmed that Fergie has left the Black Eyed Peas to focus on her solo career. The news isn’t exactly a surprise, as last week it was announced that she was leaving the band’s label, Interscope, to start her own label, Duchess Music, over at BMG. It’s still a pretty big deal, though, as she’s been with the band for the past 15 years. Still, I feel like their time has come and gone. They showed up, gave the world a suitable soundtrack replacement for Jock Jams, and left their mark. However, will.i.am says they’re still together, recording new music to celebrate their 20th anniversary as a band. To be honest, I thought they were gonna be done in 2008, when they released The E.N.D., but it proved successful enough, with the hits “Boom Boom Pow” and “I Gotta Feeling”, that they just kept trucking along. Now there are rumors swirling that Nicole Scherzinger might replace Fergie in the group, which would be her third time in a group, after Eden’s Crush and The Pussycat Dolls. I swear, Scherzinger must have a tail or something, because there’s some sort of defect that’s preventing a label from being able to package her as a solo act. Always a bridesmaid…Anyway, let’s pour one out for The Duchess and her tenure with Your Grandma’s Favorite Rap Group.

Netflix founder and CEO Reed Hastings recently said that he felt Netflix should be canceling more shows. In his mind, they have too many hits, which results in creators taking fewer chances and not “swinging for the fences”. The successful shows are basically taking real estate from potential new hits. Now, it being the internet, there’s no “real estate”, per se, but it’s still marketing dollars, bandwidth, etc. It used to be that you could count on a Netflix series getting at least 2 seasons, but they just killed that with the cancellation of The Get Down after its first season. Yesterday, they followed the trend and canceled the sci fi series Sense8 after its second season just debuted last month. If the axe is swinging, I’m worried about the shows that aren’t generating a ton of buzz right now, like F is for Family and the adaptation of Dear White People. Kind of a weird problem to have, though: too much success might be making them complacent. It’ll be interesting to see how this affects the Marvel shows, as well as the Netflix perennials like House of Cards and Orange is the New Black.

There was a scary moment last weekend at Phoenix Comicon, when police arrested a man who reportedly had three handguns, a shotgun, knives, pepper spray, and throwing stars, and had a reminder on his phone that said “Kill JDF.” That’s right, folks – his plan was to kill the Greatest Power Ranger of All Time, Jason David Frank, as well as some police officers. Sidebar: can you imagine being so absentminded that you need to set a phone reminder to make sure you remember to murder your target?! Anyway, the reason police were able to capture 31 year old Mathew Sterling was because he had told his plan to some chick on social media, who then tipped off the police. Anyway, JDF continued with the convention as if nothing had happened, claiming that he wasn’t going to let fear govern his life. Meanwhile, the convention cracked down on prop weapons and banned them from the show. In fact, if you were getting your Saba or Dragon Dagger swords signed by JDF that weekend, he was posting on social media that you would have to leave them in their boxes. This has caused other conventions to look at their own weapons policies, so look for some changes coming up on the con circuit.

Song of the Week

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This week, I give you “You Look Good”, but Lady Antebellum. This is just such a funky song, and could’ve been a contender for Song of the Summer had they waited a bit longer to release it. Anyway, it’s like the 2017 offspring of Santana and Rob Thomas’s “Smooth”. I really dig it, and I think you will, too.

Things You Might Have Missed This Week

Hailee Steinfeld is in talks to star in the Transformers spinoff, Bumblebee

After 14 years off the air, MTV is bringing back the MTV Beach House this summer

WGN America has canceled slavery drama Underground after 2 seasons

There are reports that Steven Spielberg is gearing up for an Animaniacs reboot

Fresh off the recently canceled Powerless, Vanessa Hudgens was announced as a judge on the upcoming season of So You Think You Can Dance

Scott Pelley is out as the anchor of CBS Evening News, and will return to 60 Minutes in a full-time capacity

A Sin City TV series is in the works

Universal is reportedly interested in Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson for the role of The Wolfman in their Dark Universe franchise

Speaking of Dark Universe, I called it last week: Warner Bros may sue Universal over the Dark Universe title. According to official documents, however, it appears Universal may have had the name first.

Charlie Heaton, of Stranger Things fame, is reportedly up for the role of Cannonball in the X-Men spinoff, New Mutants – which is now supposedly going to be a straight horror movie. Um, OK…

Speaking of New Mutants, Fox continues to mine Netflix shows, as 13 Reasons Why‘s Henry Zaga has been cast as Sunspot

Ben Stiller and Christine Taylor have split after 18 years together

The Ludacris-hosted Fear Factor reboot premiered on MTV this week

Tiger Woods was arrested for a DUI, even though he had no alcohol in his system and was found passed out in his car. He says it was the result of mixing prescription drugs, but the whole thing sound fishy

Sharknado 5: Global Swarming will premiere August 6th on SyFy, guest starring Charo, Fabio, Tony Hawk, and Chris Kattan. This thing is one Ted Lange appearance away from becoming a Love Boat reboot

Thanks to an article on Slate, we now know to pronounce the “T” in Gal Gadot’s name.

I had absolutely no desire to see Wonder Woman. While she was my favorite part of of Dawn of Justice, I just wasn’t jazzed about the idea of her starring in a World War I period piece. I mean, we already got that movie, and it was called Captain America: The First Avenger (before you history buffs come out of the woodworks, I know that movie was set in WWII: War Harder). I wasn’t looking forward to DC’s lackluster attempt at a retread of that. So, imagine my surprise when I found myself in the theater on opening night. And then imagine my surprise when the movie ended, and I realized that I LOVED it!

It might be premature to say that Warner Bros has finally righted the DCEU ship, but Wonder Woman is definitely a step in the right direction. My buddy Chad predicted that it would be the new gold standard in comic book movies, and while I don’t think it quite achieves that, it’s definitely the gold standard for the DC Universe. It’s one of the rare comic book movies where I left and didn’t really have any issues with plot holes. It was such a joy to watch, thanks to the acting of Gal Gadot. First of all, she’s so goddamn beautiful that it should be illegal for the camera to be trained on her for prolonged periods of time. Seriously, I thought I was gonna have a seizure like those kids did from that Pokémon episode back in ’99. She does such a great job playing up Wonder Woman’s sweet naiveté about “Man’s World”, but is also a commanding presence during the battles. It’s funny how when she was cast, we were all saying “She’s too small to be Wonder Woman”, but watching her onscreen, all those doubts slip away.

Now, as much as I loved it, it’s not a perfect film. It deftly straddles the line between “suspension of disbelief” and just plain hokey, but it sort of feels like a 90s comic book movie in that way. And while Patty Jenkins may have directed it, Zack Snyder’s fingerprints are ALL OVER IT (as he co-wrote it with Allan Heinberg). I swear, I think about 60% of it was pure green screen, as I sat there thinking to myself, “This is on a soundstage. That is on a soundstage. Oh, that’s definitely a sound stage.” At points (especially during the final act), it shifts into that “Snydervision” that most of the DCEU movies are in, where it just becomes a copper-tinted music video.

Plus, I’m still not sure about the shared universe nature of the DCEU. While Marvel has almost flawlessly built their world over the course of many films, it just feels so forced with the DC movies. Whereas the MCU feels organic, the DCEU feels copycat. The framing device of the movie is meant to sort of further that idea of a shared universe, but I’m not sure it works. To be honest, I’d probably enjoy it more if I knew nothing about Dawn of Justice or the fact that she’ll pop up in Justice League later this year. She’s strong enough to stand on her own, and the rest of the disappointing DCEU almost taints her.

All that said, it’s really a great cinematic debut for the character, and young girls finally have their own big screen hero. Not to give too much away, but as the film starts, Diana is a wide-eyed little girl, and I could see so much of the audience connecting with that. I thought of my own daughter, and the fact the she now has her own hero. I think that will mean a lot to folks. As far as I’m concerned, scrap Justice League and the rest of the solo films on DC’s slate, and rush Wonder Woman 2 into production stat! For these reasons, Wonder Woman had the West Week Ever.

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