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ka-writes · 3 years

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Notes: I was at camp. Sorry for posting late... in return I gift a long chapter!

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In Case you missed it:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: Characters being trapped, mentions of IVs, Cussing, yelling, characters being restrained, nightmares, mentions of murder, a guy being arrested.

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“Humans are [add text here]”

Chapter 3: A Wild Crow Father has Appeared

Phil wasn’t expecting to be returning to Planet A112 so soon but Wilbur had sent a distress signal and that was the Dream Team Craft’s next stop.

The planet itself stood as a port market place. There were many of these planets around the galaxy, but it was probably the more popular ones for criminal ships and such. Poachers and Scientists alike came here to get supplies to take the biggest beasts in the galaxy, Humans.

Phil never understood the appeal, but both of his sons had gained that sort of adventurous aspect that he had lost so many celestial years ago. He assumed the only reason people ever chased the creatures was to fill their pride.

That was the exact reason Techno had joined the poacher ship three years ago. He only returned when it had crashed three months ago. To this day he has yet to reveal what horrors had gone on the ship.

Wilbur had another reason to go after the infamous creatures. His crave for knowledge was eating him up as was for most scientists. He joined the Dream Team Craft only six months ago and was already heading back to the SBI Craft.

Techno was pacing around the marketplace studying different weapons and supplies. Phil had been standing off to the side, leaning on one of the building walls. Every once and a while he would check his communicator to see where Wilbur was. Thankfully he had turned on his location so Phil could easily watch as he made his way through the maze-like market.

“Is he getting close?” Techno asked running low on patience.

“He’ll be here in two minutes or so.” Phil bit his lip, “You can head back to the ship, I don’t mind waiting for him.”

“I am not leaving you. Prime knows what Wilbur brought back this time.” Techno replied. Wilbur always had a knack for bringing back things he found interesting. This wasn’t the first time he had left the SBI Craft. This would be the 37th since he turned 14. Now he was 24 and the Craft had been designed to handle whatever he brought back. There was a holding room fit for literally any species, a mechanics room full of technology he gained an interest in. A garden and a gardener which was also retrieved by Wilbur. And of course Wilbur’s pride and joy, the laboratory.

“If you want mate..” Phil said, shaking his head.

Not even two minutes later he saw Wilbur coming from the middle of the crowd. He was carrying what looked like a hurt child.

“Well this should be interesting.” Techno mumbled as he spotted Wilbur.

Once the phantom saw them he strode over and they made their way over to him.

“What do you have this time mate?” Phil asked, curiosity filling him to the brim with questions.

“Someone I can’t explain till we get to the ship.” Wilbur states with a tone he had never heard from his son.

After a second of standing awkwardly they had come to a silent agreement to head to the ship.

It took less than five minutes. Wilbur was half sprinting to the lab before Techno’s assistant had even registered that Wilbur was back. Phil gave a quick greeting to the gardener and assistant before following Wilbur to the medical part of the lab. He almost fainted when he saw what was laying on the medical bed.

“I know it looks bad, but I couldn’t help myself.” Wilbur said apologetically, “I know you’re gonna want answers but I really don’t have a lot of time before serious damage is done to him. I’ll explain after I fix him up.” He glanced up with a face full of sincerity.

Phil sighed pushing aside any fatigue and collecting his thoughts. “How can I help?” He states without an ounce of shown-fear in his voice.

Wilbur took a moment before answering. Prime the silence was loud. “Keep everyone out of the lab, and set up another room.. that would be great.” Wilbur said. The worry in his voice was apparent, but Phil said nothing of it. Instead he started on the tasks that came with being the captain of the craft.

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He woke up to LED lights blinding him. Tommy blinked a bit before sitting up.

He was sitting on what appeared to be a hospital bed. An IV was attached to his wrist and there were strange alien restraints attached to his legs but not to his wrists. That would be a mistake if he knew how to take the sticky black cuffs off. Which he didn’t. Plus he was too weak to attempt.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked around. The bed was pushed into the back corner directly across from a window. There was no glass or plastic covering the window, only a shiny force-field looking thing. The window also was the length of the wall. To the right of the window was a little slot and shelf, clearly used to deliver food. To the left of the window was a place for a door. The only thing was there was no visible door, just more of the light blue painted wall. To the left of the space was a bunch of shelves with a bunch of weird toys, games, books, and puzzles. Across from that was a card table and two comfortable chairs. At the end of the bed was a bench looking thing in which the lid lifted up.

All in all the room was clearly used to keep people occupied while keeping a close eye on them. The inhabitants of the ship had prepared it so it could withstand most things. The furniture in the room had been nailed to the floor. The chairs could move either closer or farther from the table with whoever was sitting down using a strange contraption. None of the toys on the lower shelf could be eaten and all games and puzzles were on higher shelves. The books were also all hard covered. There were even plastic bookmarks in a small container next to the shelves. The window was clearly impossible to get through and looked like it would absorb whatever you threw at it. The food shelf had three mechanisms that wouldn’t be easy to get through. There were no vents or places to hide. It was very apparent they had done this sort of thing before.

The last thing Tommy looked for was a light switch. By some sort of luck he spotted it. It was a weird sort of dial thing that was right by the IV stand. It was currently at 100 and he then dialed it down to 35. It was dim enough to sleep but bright enough to see everything clearly. Not even five minutes later he fell into a deep sleep.

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“YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN?!” Tubbo yelled, fluttering his wings furiously, making him hover ever so slightly.

Ranboo swiftly put his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder pushing him back onto the ground. The enderian shifted anxiously making Techno ponder if he was also gripping Tubbo to keep himself grounded. Phil stood near Will expectantly. Wilbur shifted from foot to foot and rubbed his arm, yet kept his head up to look at everyone. Techno was leaning against his security desk, side eyeing the now asleep human.

“I knew you were stupid, I just didn’t know you were this stupid.” Techno stated without a hint of remorse. Wilbur scoffed before attempting to collect himself.

“I couldn’t just leave him there! It was a mission built for researching humans. Meaning they would be doing nasty experiments for prime knows how long!” Wilbur snapped, with a seriousness Techno hadn’t seen since Wilbur brought back the other children on the ship, “He is a kid. Not an adult that had nowhere to go and was doing prime awful things. He is a kid with no family, no home, and barely making it through the day. I read through his file and he has gone through awful shit. I wasn’t gonna let him die in misery too. If you don’t want him on the ship, then I will get myself my own ship.” Wilbur threatened with a tone not to be questioned. Techno took a moment to think through Will’s response before coming up with an answer.

“He can stay. As long as you keep him in line and take care of his rations. He is not to leave his room until we make sure he can do no damage. If anyone wants to visit him, you are either outside the window or I am present. No excuses.” Techno finished satisfied with his answer. Phil may have been the legal captain of the ship, but when it came to rules Techno was always the one to make them.

Phil nodded in agreement. The two children nodded aggressively, both of which clearly had no intention of going near the human’s holding cell. After a minute Wilbur nodded.

“Fine. If those are the rules I will comply.” Wilbur said, “I need to adjust some things, I will assume Techno will be coming with me?” He asked reluctantly.

“Yes.” Techno bluntly said.

“So be it.” Wilbur snapped. Techno just brushed it off as they headed towards the lab cells.

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Tommy was running through the forest on the edge of town.

It was his favorite trail and the only one his parents let him go on alone. Which cost a long series of promises and supplies he had to go with.

Usually he would be running on the trail for fun but this time it was a sprint home. He didn’t know what was wrong but he knew something was wrong. Especially when he saw the blue and red lights light up the evening sky.

“I didn’t do anything you bastards!!” His dad yelled over the sirens. They had him in cuffs repeating the Miranda rights to him as they pushed him into the back seat.

“What’s going on?” All Tommy could manage his throat was tight and he was struggling to hold back angry tears. He caught one of the officers' attention. She smiled softly.

“He got caught doing something bad to his wife.” She said sadly.

“What did he do?!” Tommy cried even louder this time tears slipped down his face. At this point the officer got more serious.

“I am not obligated to say.” She bit her lip before continuing, “Why don’t you go back to your parents?” She replied softly. This was the first time Tommy got angry, not annoyed or that childish angry. The kind of anger that makes you wanna burn the world down. It was a quick flash but enough to make him snap.

“You took my dad…. What did he do to my mom?” Tommy answered coldly. His answer clearly shook the officer.

“Aw kid, I- .. I am sorry.. he killed her.” Tommy already knew the answer. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He heard someone scream from far away. Maybe it was him, maybe someone else. They pushed him through a series of questions all of which he could barely answer. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t calm down. Everything was too much.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Tears were running down his face. His breath was rapid and uneven. He hadn’t had a dream like that for a couple of months, granted he barely slept. After a few shaky breaths he calmed himself enough to grasp where he was. He wiped the tears just in time for the spot where the door was to open.

In stepped Wilbur along with a really tall alien. The tall alien stood in front of the door as Wilbur rushed to Tommy’s bed. Tommy lost control of his breathing, barely calming down.

Wilbur grabbed his hands to which Tommy snapped his head towards the alien. “I want you to breathe with me okay?” Wilbur said softly. He moved Tommy’s hand to his chest and started taking deep breaths. After a minute Tommy managed to even his breath to Wilbur’s pattern. “Good, good. I am gonna take off your IV since you don’t need it anymore. After that I can get you some food and water, then we can talk alright?” Wilbur said, keeping his tone soft and slow. Tommy rubbed his eyes and nodded.

Wilbur took his arm, there was a small pinch then the IV was off. Wilbur quickly left and came back after about two minutes. Within those two minutes Tommy got a better look at the other alien.

The alien had light pink ruff skin with neat pink hair tightly braided. They were wearing a puffy cream shirt that was tucked into dark brown pants, which were tucked into black boots that went up to their knees. Their knees bent backwards and the boots were shaped weirdly, like they were built for hooves. They had hooves where their hands would be, that somehow had thumbs. They also had tusks poking out of their mouth. Along with blood red eyes that had white pupils. Their ears poked out of their hair and were both torn and pierced with gold earrings. They also had a gold chain necklace with a stone that resembled an Emerald. They also wore a black belt with a gold clip. Attached to the belt was an alien sword leaning against their right hip, on the other side was what resembled a gun.

Tommy swallowed down food that was threatening to come up. He waited patiently for Wilbur to come back, trying his hardest not to stare at the other alien.

“My name is Techno. He/him. Same with Wilbur and most of the crew. The only one who has other pronouns is Ranboo who goes by he/they.” Techno, stated bluntly. Tommy collected himself before responding.

“I am Tommy Innit, er- he/him.” Tommy finished with a shaky voice.

Luckily the awkward tension didn’t last long as Wilbur practically sprinted through the door, shoving Techno out of the way. He pulled a tray that was neatly folded out of the wall and put a glass of water and some food on a plate.

“Some parskey with hatatoes. It tastes good I promise.” Wilbur explained. He then went to grab something he left outside and sat at the card table. He put two plates down and Techno joined him. The door closed after that. There was no button or anything, it just closed. Tommy was a little baffled by it but looked towards the food put in front of him.

It was a white meat, similar to chicken, with a brown version of mashed potatoes. He looked over to the other two who were talking in a different language while eating the same food. With that Tommy decided it was okay to eat. Just like what it reminded him of, it tasted like chicken and mash potatoes with small differences. Like the meat was dryer and more salty and the potatoes were a little sour. Either way it was still good. He then drank the water. There was no odd taste this time so he assumed it wasn’t drugged.

Once he finished he attempted to listen in but was only met with a series of strange sounds. He gave up and pushed the tray away. Almost too quickly he fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t even notice when the visitors took their stuff and left.

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Ranboo poked at his food glancing up every once and awhile. The two crew members had returned from the human’s room and decided to finish their food with the rest of the crew. Everyone sat in a tense silence.

“So,” Phil clapped his feathered hands and turned towards Wilbur. “What do we know about the kid?” He asked.

“His name is Tommy Innit, pronouns he/him. He is 14 and was living on the run for six months. No family according to him and he’s allergic to nuts.” Wilbur answered.

“From what I can tell he isn’t super dangerous, just fearful. He already trusts Wilbur, somehow. Though I think it is due to Wilbur saving his life. It will be harder for the rest of us to gain his trust.” Techno added. Ranboo swiftly wrote the responses down, making sure to keep major notes.

The rest of dinner was uneventful and everyone awkwardly washed dishes and went to bed. Assumingly to sleep. Everyone except Ranboo that is. He couldn’t wash dishes due to his biology and he didn’t really sleep. Every time he tried the void would wake him up or he would go into a half-conscious state that the crew deemed as enderwalking.

So for what felt like the hundredth time they stayed awake laying in bed. This time however their mind was racing with thoughts. Traveling through situations that used to seem impossible before the human boarded the ship. Still curiosity was eating their insides.

With a half made up mind Ranboo shot up in bed. They stalked over to where the human was being held and peered into the window.

Almost instantly the human sat up. After yawning and getting into a position he was comfortable in he just stared at Ranboo making them incredibly uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” The human asked, Ranboo couldn’t remember his name.

“Oh! Uh, I am Ranboo.. I am kinda like an assistant, I-I guess.” Ranboo said, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Ah cool. I am the biggest man! Tommy Innit. You should be grateful to be in my presence.” The human practically flowed with confidence making Ranboo question if all humans were like this. He shook off the questions and turned back to the human who was now playing with the light monitor.

“So… what was your planet like?” Tommy asked, startling Ranboo a bit. “I-I mean you don’t have to answer of course.. just wondering..” the human stuttered. They took a moment to go through their thoughts, narrowing down what they could.

“I guess it was peaceful.. in a way.. no one really fell out of line. It was unified, creating a peaceful haven. It wasn’t like people couldn’t fall out of line it’s just they didn’t want to. M-most of them were content with the way they were… but if there was something wrong they would absolutely take any measure to destroy it.” Ranboo finished bitterly, trying to shake off his old hurt of how they treated him. “W-what about your planet?” Ranboo asked.

“Ah.. Earth is interesting to say the least… We don’t all follow the same rules. And there is a lot of falling out of line… But I guess that’s what gave it a certain charm and a certain aspect that made it brutal.” Tommy finished his serious tone melting in an instant, “But that’s there not here! I wanna know what everything is like.” He said looking at Ranboo with curiosity.

That’s how Ranboo created a bond with the strange blond creature. They bounced from topic to topic mainly ending with one of them going into a deep explanation of one thing or another. They talked until both of them ended up passing out sitting next to the window.

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Chapter 3- End

Words- 3,212

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Techno- “Don’t go near the human without my presence.”

Ranboo- ._.

Ranboo- Ima do it... >:p

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(That was a bad one but oh well..)

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End Notes: I got carried away a bit... I have a few more filler chapters before we start actually getting into the plot.. also after this should I start a super hero AU?

Ignore minor mistakes... I did reread through it this time so there shouldn’t be too many...

As always likes are nice but reblogs are better! Please share this with people of you enjoyed, I hope you did!

Go get some water, sleep, eat food, and stay safe!! Love y’all <3

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Chapter 4:

#dream smp fanfiction #tommy mcyt #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #philza #techno #sbi au #alien au #my fanfic tag #my writing #reblog

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hoodwinkd1 · 3 years

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the stars that shine - Ch 1

Fic Summary: “Eva, darling, Dorian has a few questions for you,” Lysandra interrupted. She tilted her head as she looked Hollin over, an eerily animalistic quality in her gaze. “Will you be attending the same classes?”

He turned his head to Dorian. “Will I be what?”

His brother took a sip of wine. “I’m sure I told you about this. Evangeline will be staying with us for the next few months to expand her education.” Placing the glass down, he looked at the girl in question with clear affection in his eyes. ------ Coming of age in a post-war world could never be easy. Growing up under the watchful eye of Erilea's most powerful and famous heroes is just a little bit harder. Figuring out what the hell they're supposed to do in this big, wide world might require a little more teamwork than either of them realize.

Ch 2 here.

Chapter 1: just two kids

The first time they met, neither of them knew what the hell was going on. The adults spoke in whispers and shed tears that they couldn’t understand, being only eleven years old. Evangeline grew tired of hiding behind Lysandra and clinging to Aedion; she wanted to explore this massive palace that served as her temporary home. Aelin had insisted that they all remain together for a few weeks after her coronation, giving them all some time to figure out how to be a court and a family.

For once, Evangeline’s short stature helped her as she ducked behind people and columns until she found the exit. She picked a direction at random, happy to wander around the hallways and take in the décor, even if some of it looked worse for wear. She hummed to herself as she walked, so focused on absorbing every piece of Terrasen that she could glean from the paintings that hung proudly (if not a bit slanted).

Terrasen. Her new kingdom. Evangeline had never felt any sort of connection to Adarlan. No one had ever held her hand at a celebratory parade or taught her the national song, if there even was such a thing. Her childhood contained no memories of pride or patriotism, nothing beyond a lingering resentment for what her parents did to survive.

“Evangeline! What are you doing away from the party?” She nearly jumped out of her skin at that cheery voice, her eyes darting up to meet the King’s kind smile. Dorian might have deserved her patriotism, if Lysandra and her had remained in Rifthold.

“I was exploring.” She shifted her weight a couple times. Although his face was kind, she really didn’t know him that well. And grown men, especially those with power, cause her to clam up. She remembered her manners just in time to add: “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Your Majesty.”

He waved a hand. “Please, just Dorian. We’ve all been through too much for fancy titles, don’t you think? We were just about to say our goodbyes and head out.”

At his statement, Evangeline finally noticed the boy sulking behind Dorian. Hollin didn’t acknowledge her at all, never even looked at her despite their similar age and forced proximity. She shoved down her irritation, choosing to be the mature and polite one.

“Are you excited to go home?” she asked sweetly, staring directly at the prince. He continued to study the wall next to him, ignoring her yet again, until Dorian shoved his shoulder lightly.

Hollin sighed in a way that made Evangeline’s blood boil. “I cannot wait to sleep in a chamber that doesn’t look like it might collapse on me in my sleep,” he answered, scrunching his nose in disgust.

Her eyes widened. She could have died, not a full two weeks ago, during the final battle against the Valg and Hollin was complaining about the state of his bedroom? Hundreds of replies ran through her mind, most of them including telling him where he could shove that selfish opinion--

“What my brother means to say, is that he wishes Terrasen a speedy recovery after so many trials,” Dorian interjected, placing his hand on Hollin’s shoulder. His grip tightened as he steered his younger brother around Evangeline, mouthing a quick “sorry” as they passed. “I hope you know that you’re welcome in Adarlan at any time. Until next time!”

“Thank you,” Evangeline replied uncertainly, spinning on her heel to watch them walk away. She still couldn’t truly say how she felt about Dorian, but she had never been more grateful for the crown on his head. At the very least, it kept that nasty little boy from having any sort of power he would surely abuse.

She kept walking. Sparing a glance over her shoulder to make sure they no longer lingered, Evangeline pushed into the chambers the royals had just vacated. She wasn’t snooping, just curious if their bed was bigger than hers.

The room was in perfectly fine condition, maybe lacking some of the over-the-top amenities that the former conquering nation of Adarlan could afford. She peeked into the first bedroom and let out a small gasp. So Aelin had given them nicer accommodations. The bed was massive, even bigger than Aedion’s bed (which Lysandra snuck into every night when she thought Evangeline was asleep). Logically, the larger man deserved the larger bed, right?

She looked into the next bedroom. This one was much more comparable to her room, only containing a queen-size mattress and a dresser. Evangeline ran her fingers along the silk sheets, wondering if it would be selfish to ask for these chambers for herself. She might enjoy having the space to herself, and Lysandra might not feel so guilty about spending time with her beloved.

A ray of the setting sun cut through the curtains, reflecting sharply off something in the corner of her eye. There, mostly hidden beneath the dresser, was a small piece of metal. Evangeline dropped to her knees and reached for it, fingers closing around the wiry texture.

It was a ship. Fashioned out of a long piece of aluminum that may have once been a large kitchen utensil. She examined the trinket, trying to imagine how one might have bent the shape hundreds of times to form a tiny replica of the boats that floated in the docks of Ilium.

Evangeline happened to love trinkets and tiny things, so she shoved it in her pocket, considering today’s exploration a wonderful success.

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Hollin stared at the feast in front of him, wanting nothing more than to snatch up a plate full of food and run to his rooms to devour it in peace. Unfortunately, if he vacated his hiding spot behind one of the larger ice chests, the kitchen staff would surely see him and report his location to Queen Mother Georgina. And then she would surely force him back into the dining room to rejoin the most boring conversation he had ever had to sit through.

As part of his education, Hollin’s tutor taught him the importance of treating guests with civility and respect through proper socialization. While the prince normally managed to suffer through an entire dinner without running away, Hollin simply couldn’t pretend any longer. Not after he stayed up almost until dawn the night before, completely caught up in a new research project.

And although the prince had managed great strides in the two years since the war, shedding some of his more immature and selfish tendencies, he had never learned how to love a crowd the way his brother could. Dorian positively thrived in front of an audience, telling witty stories and navigating even the trickiest of topics with an easy smile.

He watched the head chef finish plating the soups, adding a fried green leek to each bowl. Hollin’s stomach growled, hidden by the noise of crashing plates and rolling carts.

“Hollin!” A sharp voice cut through the clatter. “If you’re in here, come out at once before you embarrass us any further.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. His mother had caught on to his hiding spot far too quickly. Rather than facing the indignation of getting literally dragged out of the corner by the indignant queen, he stood and brushed the lint of his pants.

Walking towards where Georgina stood, her arms crossed, Hollin searched his mind for any excuse that might explain his absence. “I wasn’t feeling well?”

“I planned on serving dinner as soon as the last guest arrived, but now everyone had to wait. Does that make you happy?” she demanded, reaching over to shove some of his hair back. “Remind me to send Donya your way tomorrow. This is getting out of hand.”

Hollin preferred his hair long, brushing his forehead and the back of his neck, but there was no arguing with her. “The dinner?” he prompted, warding off any further complaints about his appearance.

“Go, now. I need to run a final check on everything.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. Hollin ran out the door at that point, marveling at how much better the dinner party sounded after one simple interaction with his mother.

Pushing through the swinging doors, he was relieved to find most people standing around, finishing up their chatter and their drinks. Darting past a couple of particularly dull nobles and keeping his head down to avoid detection, Hollin scanned the table for his name card.

“Your Highness!” He winced at the nasally voice of Lord Ramdon and the impending doom of yet another economic lecture. “I was just telling your brother about the effects of his new trade agreement on the price of coal over the next five--”

“Please take your seats. Dinner will be served momentarily.” The voice rang out through the room, giving Hollin the opportunity to escape and finally sink into his seat, two chairs away from the head of the table.

Dorian slipped into the massive chair a moment later. “Mother tracked you down?” he asked, offering Hollin a sympathetic look.

“Obviously.” Hollin grabbed his napkin and threw it on his lap, a bit forcefully. “Enjoying the stimulating conversation tonight?”

Dorian laughed. “It was getting a bit dull for awhile there. Thankfully, some more exciting guests showed up at the last minute-oh, speak of the devil!” He stood up, waving to someone over Hollin’s shoulder.

The prince stifled a groan. He glanced at the nametag to his right, at the same time as the person in question filled the seat.

“Hello,” Evangeline smiled at him. “I didn’t notice you when we first arrived.”

Aedion Ashryver and Lysandra Ennar took their places across the table, also smiling warmly at him. Hollin never understood how these people managed to be so happy all of the damned time. Something like jealousy always churned in his stomach when he saw the familiarity and love shared between them, as if a devastating war hadn’t almost ripped them apart.

“I had a...prince thing to do.” He winced at how weak the words sounded. “I hope the journey was easy for you.”

“It was! We travelled quite light for this visit, since it’s much more informal and last-minute” Evangeline perked up as she spoke, starting on a tangent about the route they had taken. In all his fourteen years, Hollin had never met a group of people who talked quite as much as Queen Aelin’s court.

At least he grew out of his snark and pettiness since he left Terrasen for the last time. He forced a polite smile on his face as she rambled.

“Eva, darling, Dorian has a few questions for you,” Lysandra interrupted. She tilted her head as she looked Hollin over, an eerily animalistic quality in her gaze. “Will you be attending the same classes?”

He turned his head to Dorian. “Will I be what?”

His brother took a sip of wine. “I’m sure I told you about this. Evangeline will be staying with us for the next few months to expand her education.” Placing the glass down, he looked at the girl in question with clear affection in his eyes. “I wanted to know, are there any additional activities you’d like to pursue while in Rifthold? Perhaps something in the arts?”

“Oh goodness, I’d love that,” Evangeline gushed. “I know that the theater here is beyond what we have in Terrasen; I’m sure there’s so much to learn from the actors and writers there.”

Hollin’s head hurt. He knew that Dorian would try to force them to get along while she stayed with them, in some bizarre attempt to expose him to so-called good people.

Even after the king had dedicated his time to being an older brother, even though Hollin tried so hard to avoid being another problem Dorian had to handle, he would never garner the look of affection that Evangeline did. He would never be Dorian’s friend in a way the Terrasen court was.

“Hollin attended one of the performances last week.” Dorian leaned forward, catching his brother’s eye with a meaningful look. “Perhaps you could take a look at the upcoming schedule, recommend something for her.”

The meddling had begun a whooping five minutes into the first course.

“I would be happy to,” Hollin replied. “Do you have any particular interests?”

For better or for worse, that question set Evangaline off on another tangent. Dorian gave him a subtle thumbs up as she chattered away, returning his focus to Lysandra and Aedion.

Hollin took the reprieve gratefully, digging into his soup. He mentally calculated how many minutes stood between him and the final course, already considering the night a massive failure.

#tog #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #hollin havilliard #evangeline #evangeline tog #lysaedion #sjm #fic #fanfic #sarahjmaas

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heroprose · 4 years

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the regular;

a/n. well what do u know.... turns out i WILL be writing for jojo on this blog...... @jojosmilktea, that is!! hi jojo i was ur bnha spring event anon! and i’m SOOO sorry this is late RIP!!!

ship. shoto todoroki x reader

summary. bubble tea shop au. it’s true that he knows your order by heart, but he wishes he knew a little more.

to be quite honest, you didn’t know this bubble tea shop even existed in this part of the city.

it certainly didn’t look the part, all pristine with white stone walls and flower boxes hooked onto the closed glass windows. no, in fact it looked a little too bougie for this gray high rise district and you suspect that if it were not for the current downpour, wherein great big rivulets of water are endlessly streaming down the streets, hipsters would populate this cafe’s space in no time.

you cannot blame them, of course. it’s certainly a nice building and totally instagram-worthy. but what attracts you to it is not the vintage stone walls nor the massive poster plastered on the inside of the glass window, with vibrant letters that spell out NEW SEASONAL FLAVORS! but instead, it’s the generous pink awning in front that’s saving you from the insidious downpour.

you were supposed to do a little grocery shopping before heading home, damn it. technically, though, you could brave the rain for a while and shop for bread and eggs while sopping wet, but it’s a deeply unappealing idea. it doesn’t help that your go-to grocer with the terrific deals is three train stops away either and that your phone is dead, drained from too many rounds of crossy road on your commute long before the rain even began.

restless, you squint through the window of the shop inconspicuously and gape in horror as you realize it is just as cute inside as it is outside. from what you can tell, it’s set up like a little garden party, with metal outdoor chairs and circular tables and the tiles even have flower smiley face stickers on them. oh no.

it is something of a relief you’ve only discovered this bubble tea shop now because any earlier would have you blowing your bank account on extra boba and grass jelly. and in this economy? not ideal.

still, your eyes waver to the poster again. rose milk tea? peach iced tea? the prices aren’t listed anywhere so you presume they must be absolutely monstrous. completely insane, probably, and jacked up immensely to compensate for the expenses gone in the decor alone and--

“we’re open, you know. you can come in.”

you pull away from the window hastily, letting your back bump into the metal back of chair. biting back a cry of pain, you eye the speaker head-to-toe before letting your shoulders slack. the black apron tied at his waist screams barista. actually, everything about this dude screams barista, from the rolled up sleeves to the vaguely disheveled collar. even the watch on his wrist-- woah. is that a limited edition tag heuer watch? you blanch a little.

he grips the broom with both hands and gestures with the jerk of his chin to the door. “you can come in,” he repeats. his bangs flutter about his forehead thanks to the gusts of wind and it’s a bit mesmerizing to see the red and white flutter like that.

“oh,” you say, desperate to recompose yourself as you pretend you weren’t wringing out droplets of water from your clothing just minutes before. “it’s okay, thank you. i’m just waiting for the rain to pass.”

the barista opens his mouth but before he can speak, a loud clap of thunder zips through you and goosebumps erupt across the expanse of your skin. with ears ringing, you wince and the tag heuer-wearing fellow only watches. you purse your lips, glancing from him. to the onslaught of rain, to finally the door.

well. so much for staying outside. wordlessly, he pulls the door open for you and you oblige quietly, mumbling a small word of thanks as you pass him.

unsurprisingly, the shop is wholly vacant, save for him, the boy who follows you in, and another barista behind the counter, who leans against the table behind him with arms crossed. the radio is on but it’s turned down so low that it might as well be off.

it would be painful to loiter in this shop for an hour or so without buying anything, so begrudgingly, you pull out your wallet and pray to whatever higher deity up there that you won’t get hooked on their drinks and subsequently, their freakish prices. you’ve got a budget, for goodness sake.

when you step to the counter, the barista that met you outside sets his broom aside to meet you on the other side. “what would you like?” he asks automatically, with the tilt of his head. you glance over the menu above his head despite knowing your answer deep inside your heart.

“taro milk tea, please,” you say, bringing your gaze back to him. a trickle of rainwater slides down the curve of his cheek and you have to tear your gaze away. “medium, with boba. and extra sugar too.”

“will that be it?”

“yes,” you reply with your eyes downcast, carefully deciding on whether to use cash or credit. maybe you can use some of your spare coins this time.

his gold name tag says “shoto,” and it gleams even in your peripheral vision as he nods and turns to the other barista with the spiky hair who stands a few ways’ away and glowers a bit.

“katsuki,” says shoto. “one medium taro milk tea with--”

“yeah, yeah,” says the other barista snappishly. “i heard. i’m literally right here.” he pulls away from the table and exits to the back forcefully and you two watch him in relative silence. a guitar-heavy shawn mendes song plays in the background; played too softly for you to determine which one though.

shoto’s gaze swivels back to you, undisturbed by the attitude his coworker just presented and so you do your best to remain indifferent as well. it is similarly pure irony to have such a gentle cafe hosted by such personalities.

“name?” he simply asks and you tell him, not bothering to question why that was still necessary if you were the only customer in the entire shop.

and it is equally strange that after katsuki returns with your drink, about to hand it to you, shoto acts to intercepts with an extended hand to take the cup away.

“what are you doing?” says katsuki incredulously, drawing back.

shoto presents the sticker with the order printed on it in the air. “i need to put this on.”

“seriously? it’s not like you could hand it to the wrong person,” he mutters, but lets shoto tease it out of his hand before promptly returning to the kitchen again, letting the doors swing behind him. you refrain from smiling too wide as shoto carefully presses the sticker onto the cup behind the counter with an unexpectedly concentrated expression on his face.

when he utters your name to catch your attention, shoto slides your drink over to you, not letting go until your fingers accidentally brush over his. “here you go.”

“thank you,” you say brightly, shaking it for good measure. the ice clinks distract you momentarily from the noise of rain hitting concrete. the cream and purple taro swirl together brilliantly.

he nods, turning away to take a cleaning rag into his hands. shoto wipes at the counter meticulously, every once in a while swiping a smudge with his fingertips to evaluate his work. the quiet is only periodically punctured by the clap of thunder and when shawn mendes starts belting out the background adlibs via the radio.

“when do you think the rain will let up?” you muse absentmindedly, fingers drumming the raised counter as you push along your bubble tea and dig around the container for a straw of your favorite color. “not for long, i hope.”

shoto blinks, glancing up. “i heard it’ll last all through the night.”

steely dread pools at the bottom of your stomach. “no!” you gasp, confronting shoto. “really? i don’t have an umbrella or anything.” you didn’t hear anything of the sort, but then again, you haven’t checked the forecast since this morning. maybe you can wave down a cab or something. you let out a brief laugh of disbelief that rapidly devolves into a groan. “man. that stinks.”

he looks at you sympathetically, watching you deftly pierce the plastic seal top of your milk tea with more force than necessary.

you bring the straw to your mouth, sipping quietly as you think of your next line of action. the richness is disturbingly good and you’re saddened to know that you’ll be returning in the future, rain or no rain.

taking a seat in a metal chair, you finally give the shop a thorough glance over. with all the bright lights and pale wallpaper plastered with colorful stickers. above you, the ceiling vents buzz quietly. the whole shop is just--

“dazzling,” you murmur after several minutes, submitting to its glamour. “everything’s so pretty here.” the interior designer really went ham here and it shows. you fish your phone out of your slightly damp pocket and wipe at the screen with a sigh. you’d even take a photo if you could.

unbeknownst to you, shoto had left the counter upfront and is wiping down a table nearby as you speak. “thank you,” he says and you jolt, head snapping towards his direction. “we do our best to be presentable and comfortable.”

“full marks on both then,” you say breezily and a ghost of a smile teases at his lips before he walks away to the backroom.

he’s amused. did he think you were funny? your ears start to warm up a little and you drain your milk tea faster. in any case, it’s best that you brave the storm sooner than later.

there’s little doubt that the rain won’t be stopping any time soon and it would really be the icing on the cake if you not only got stuck in a thunderstorm but fell ill as well. you’ve realized, from all your years of life, that people don’t appreciate their functional nostrils until they get stuffed.

and you don’t know how much time passes in that cafe with the absence of clocks and your phone, but after catching yourself glancing over at shoto for the fifth time, wondering if you can make him smile like that again, you finally think that enough is enough. your chewing speeds up.

then you stand up, careful to not let the metal feet scrape the tiles. should you just book it, through the rain? or should you stand under the awning a little longer, hoping the rare cab will notice your helpless self and save you? as you mull these thoughts over, you toss the cup into the bin and wipe your hands with a spare napkin, getting rid of the condensation.

“wait.”

shoto’s calm voice makes you whirl around yet again.

as he walks closer, you notice that he’s gripping something in his hand and you can only bring yourself to stare as he presents it to you.

“take it,” he says. “this is my umbrella.”

your heart stutters for a second. “huh? no, i couldn’t,” you say hastily, dismissing him with a wave. “that’s really kind of you though, thank you.”

“but you said you didn’t have one.”

you give him a quizzical look. “but if i take yours, then you don’t have one.”

“katsuki-- um, the other person who works here-- lives near me. we commute together sometimes. so please,” he says, gesturing the closed umbrella. you wrap your fingers around the clear plastic gingerly to his coaxing. “take it.”

tears nearly prick your eyes as you lean over to pat him on the arm graciously. he’s more alarmed than anything else as you do, silently wide-eyed, and is it only then that you notice his eyes are different colors. “thanks, shoto. i’ll be back tomorrow to return it then. i promise!”

he gives you a quick nod. “i don’t work tomorrow. i’ll be here all weekend though.”

“alright, shoto. i’ll see you on the weekend.”

“stay safe.”

you’re already turning away and pushing open the door before you see the flicker of a smile pass over his visage again.

“you gave away your umbrella?” says katsuki after the cafe closes later that evening. his eyes narrow down at his fellow coworker sharply. “to a damn customer?”

“it’ll get returned,” assures shoto. his upper arm is warm where you had touched him, and his hand hovers over it for a second before he shrugs on his jacket.

“that’s not the point,” his coworker seethes, angrily hanging up his apron. “my car is two blocks over and i was relying on you to do your part in bringing the umbrella. idiot!”

ah.

you come back that sunny weekend, with shoto’s trusty transparent umbrella in hand... as well as the weekend after. and the weekend after that. sans the excuse of the umbrella, of course.

when it is katsuki that greets you at the counter, he does little to hide his disapproval of your order; grunting when you greet him with a cheerful “hi katsuki!” and grimacing each time when you smile and add, “with extra sugar!” to your order.

“you’re aware of how much sugar is already in this stuff, right?” he tells you.

“i’m here for a good time, not a long time,” you reply. “and are you really supposed to be asking me that? as someone who works here?”

katsuki scoffs and wordlessly punches your order in anyway. his brew, however, is immaculate without fail so you don’t question his tactics.

but when it is shoto... he greets you warmly, stretching the conversation by asking about how you are and about your day.

“the regular?” he eventually asks after several weeks of you making the same order as the last.

you smile. “the regular.”

sometimes, you loiter near the counter when it’s not busy. you learn, with some semblance of glee, that shoto is a student like yourself and he only works part-time-- the rainy afternoon you met him on had been a shift he was covering for someone else. other times all you can do is take your drink and wave him goodbye.

even on the extremely busy days where you cannot even find a vacant seat, there are brief seconds where you think of leaning against the wall and enjoying the atmosphere. it is a startling realization, how desperate you want to linger in his presence.

your affection is making you ill. ugh, and being bloated is not a good look on you either.

drinking taro milk tea at competitor bubble tea shops don’t even sate you. it’s always too watery, too thin; the flavors rounding off as bitter, over brewed tea. but you drink them to wean yourself off. you should probably stop drinking them altogether though.

some time passes before you can find it in yourself to return. the storefront is as pretty as it always is whenever you pass it by on your commute.

“hey, how are you? have you been alright?” asks shoto right off the bat, dropping his washrag haphazardly beside the sink when you find yourself at the counter again after the weeks of hearty self-restraint.

his concern is so vivid it unnerves you. it’s a funny and ill-placed nervous look on his face, eyebrows pulled tense. “i’m fine,” you say, “how have you been?”

“i’m well,” shoto says. “and... that’s good. it’s been a while. i thought you might have started getting your milk tea fix from somewhere else.” he pauses. “have you?”

his sincerity makes you throw your head back and laugh, but your stomach gurgles at the recollection of drinking so many subpar taro milk teas. “never,” you tell him finally. “i like this place too much. and the people here too.”

“i see.” shoto’s smile is bright this time, eyes so soft even as he speaks. “the regular then?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your own gaze crinkling up. “you know me so well, shoto.”

“quit freakin’ flirting at the counter,” snaps katsuki, mopping the floor vigorously. “do that shit when you’re not at work, icy-hot. it’s disgusting that i have to stand here and listen to you two.”

shoto frowns. “it’s not flirting. we have to be kind to customers.” he calls from the kitchen.

“kindness is you giving extra napkins, not asking if they’ve been going to other bubble tea shops. as if.”

“we’re... just friends then.”

“just friends, my ass. what, you think that extra sugar ass sweet tooth loser came in every week alone just to get tea? you know what...” katsuki’s peeved grumbles trail off until they’re no longer comprehensible.

shoto just ponders on this as he drains the sink.

“here,” says katsuki one saturday afternoon. “take it. and go.” he pushes the purple drink into your hand and wipes his own hand on his apron. “extra sugar. don’t blame me when your teeth fall out.”

“damn,” you say, although you are hardly taken aback by his crudeness anymore. “but i will. i’ve got a lot to do today, so i can’t stay and chat. bye guys!”

“take care,” says shoto just as katsuki says, “don’t care, didn’t ask.”

(when you wave goodbye, however, you are pleased to see that they both reciprocate kindly.)

by the time you eventually take a sip, you’re already on your way to the rail to get to your favorite grocery store. today, it’s buy one get one free bags of potatoes so you know you’ll be stocking up this time.

mindlessly, you pierce the top with your straw, careful to aim for the center. you give it a stir before taking a sip, the familiar creaminess filling your mouth.

although it’s... different, somehow.

sweeter, you think. did katsuki actually overload it with sugar this time? seemed like a weird prank to pull. perhaps he was teaching you a lesson but considering that he hasn’t been fired yet indicates that this was an infrequent occurrence. hopefully.

chewing the boba thoughtfully, you pull the cup away in order to squint at the dark text printed on the sticker. it’s the same as you always say it: a medium, iced, taro milk tea, with boba and 25% extra--

the word “sugar” is scrawled over with black ink, although not deliberately it seems. it’s just covered up with a slew of numbers and letters written unbelievably neat in spite of being on a cylindrical cup and you nearly hack up a black clump of sugary boba onto the concrete sidewalk.

but nevertheless, you force it down to look at the order again, more closely this time.

they’re numbers, and your heart stutters in your chest at the realization there’s just enough to be a phone number; followed by a name that you only ever saw emblazoned on a gold name tag.

you want to commit the numbers to memory, but it’s undeniably hard to concentrate. not when shoto’s gentle smile is on the forefront of your brain and when big, fat droplets of water are hitting your forehead with incredible force.

you glance up at the swirling, ashen clouds above you, bloated and expecting. an uncomfortable feeling crawls up your spine at the realization that you’ve forgotten your umbrella at home today too.

oh god. not again.

“i can’t believe you actually wrote your number on my cup today... very smooth, shoto.”

there’s a beat before shoto replies, his voice tinny and distant over the phone. “actually, i did that the first day you came in-- when it was raining. i figured you didn’t notice or you were rejecting me.”

“oh. so, wait-- you did it twice then? that day and today?”

“no,” says shoto. “just that day.”

“then who--” you stop yourself.

outside your window, a clap of thunder shakes the sky. and the epiphany that follows renders you both silent.

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha spring time #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #ok jojo actually though i nearly wrote u a tiger king au and then i was like hold on....aint nobody but me gonna want this.....

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winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Caleo one-shot: Only Us

Summary: Calypso tries to convince a jealous Leo that he doesn't have to worry about her and Percy.

a/n: Decided to post this here too! Like I said on AO3 (and have said here a few times), I’m still in the middle of reading ToA so this fic isn’t entirely canon compliant, but I still feel like jealous Leo is smth that would probably happen at some point of their relationship so that’s why I wanted to write this fic. Anyways, please enjoy and review! The comments motivate me /a lot/.

words: 1865

genre: some floof, some hurt/comfort

warnings: none

AO3 link: [x]

...

Leo was bored. He had already done everything he had planned for that day – finishing his newest mechanic project, oiling and flying with Festus, helping his siblings, coming up with a new bad joke – but he hadn’t had a chance to spend a lot of time with his girlfriend. He was on his way to the strawberry fields where he knew Calypso liked to spend her time because it reminded her of her home, when he noticed her on the beach. That alone didn’t surprise Leo. The sea was another place she considered home-y, after all. What did surprise him, though, was that she wasn’t alone. She was with Percy. And they seemed to be deep in a conversation.

“I’m sorry about what happened in Tartarus,” Leo heard Calypso saying. “I didn’t mean to curse you… it was a moment of whim and I didn’t think… I mean, it doesn’t excuse it but…”

“Hey, it’s OK,” Percy tried to reassure her, putting his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “You were mad because I forgot to make sure the gods had fulfilled their promise… So I’m sorry too.”

Leo didn’t hear more because as the words sunk in, his first instinct in that situation was to leave. Go and never let them know he had heard any of that. However, his mind was racing with possibilities of what that conversation could have meant, so Leo decided to try to distract himself with the best way he could.

His bunker had been a place that had brought him comfort ever since he had found it almost two years prior. However, soon he noticed that this time even that didn’t help; his hands were working on something he didn’t even recognize while his mind wandered elsewhere. When he stopped for a break, one of his hands started tapping that familiar rhythm he always tapped when anxious. He immediately stopped when realized what he was doing, very conscious of the meaning of the Morse code he had used. Love only hurt, it seemed. Leo had been occasionally thinking how lucky he was to have a girlfriend like Calypso, but he should have known it wouldn’t last. Not when he could offer nothing all the other boys couldn’t. Percy was handsome, strong, tall and funny, and he hadn’t broken Calypso’s table when they met (that was always a bonus). It was only natural she’d like him more.

With frustration, Leo started forming fireballs with his hands and shot the first one into an open water container where it wouldn’t cause dangerous situations. Festus, who had been resting outside the bunker, woke up at the sound of the fireball hitting its destination and when the second ball started flying, he threw himself between the ball and the container and swallowed it, then making a rare hissing sound at the person who had rebuilt him.

“What are you hissing me for?” Leo snapped at the metal dragon, another very rare occurrence. Often Festus was the only one who Leo felt understood him, and in general Hephaestus’ son was very calm and patient with him. That’s how the dragon knew something definitely was wrong with his master. He gave his answer by blowing smoke like a morse code from his nose, probably telling him to stop being stupid.

“Fine,” Leo sighed, sitting down on the stairs next to Festus. “It’s Calypso. I saw her with Percy and… I’m probably being paranoid but seeing them interact like that made me think… what if she falls in love with him again? I’m no match for that guy; you know water and fire are not a good combo…”

Festus made some ticking sounds this time, trying to convince Leo that she wouldn’t do such a thing.

“You seem very sure for something that I built… So, what do you say I should do about this?”

Festus pushed him with his huge snout, almost making him fall.

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell her what I saw. Happy?”

Festus made a sound that sounded a whole lot like a snort, reminding Leo that that was literally what his name meant. Happy.

“That was a bad joke, bud. I can still change your name to something that doesn’t mean happy, you know,” he sassed at the dragon but this time the metal creature made so clear a laughter sound that Leo couldn’t mistake it, challenging him to try. Knowing the dragon had won that battle, Leo decided to return back to the camp and face his girlfriend.

…

When the couple was finally alone later that evening, Leo didn’t have time to mention Percy before Calypso noted his weird behavior.

“Leo, you’ve been so quiet this evening. You didn’t even try to outjoke Apollo at the dinner and that has probably happened… well, never, so far. Is something troubling you?”

Leo supposed that this moment was as good as any to confess what he had seen.

“I saw… you and Percy talking at the beach.”

“Oh…” Calypso thought she knew what was coming but she decided to bite her lip and let Leo speak. If she had learned something about him during all those months they’d spent traveling, it was that if you didn’t give him the opportunity to speak out, he may bottle those emotions inside until near explosion point.

“You were looking pretty chummy out there,” Leo continued, staring at his hands awkwardly.

“I don’t know what that word means but we had a good talk,” Calypso replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “We realized that we both had made some mistakes and… while some scars heal slowly, we decided we’re past that point where we can just avoid each other and act like nothing happened.”

“Was that all?” Leo asked doubtfully.

Calypso didn’t know how she should have reacted to that question. She was torn between annoyed and amused because of Leo’s clear jealousy. She chose the latter.

“Leo Valdez. You really don’t have to worry about me and Percy. We've moved on a long time ago. The way he looks at Annabeth… it’s so obvious he loves her a lot.” Before he could argue something about ‘old salt’, she added: “And… even though he has his flaws… I have met a pretty special person as well.”

“Huh?” Leo finally raised his gaze from hands his with surprise. Calypso wasn’t usually that straightforward about her feelings with him, she preferred showing it with actions rather than drown Leo with sappy words.

Calypso smirked slightly. “You know the one. He broke my dining table the first time we met. Sometimes his jokes are very bad and he’s too sarcastic for his own good. He can be stubborn to the point of it getting frustrating.”

Her expression turned back to serious.

“Worst of all, he has a huge inferiority complex, which means he doesn't see himself the way he should and blames himself for things that are out of his control. He can also get pretty jealous because he doesn’t believe that someone could actually love him.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Just what I needed. Salt to my wounds and a reminder of my flaws.”

Calypso raised her voice to stop him, but there was softness in her eyes as he continued.

“Listen to how this story ends, OK? This guy… He's more smart and skilled he realizes. He's taught me so much about the modern world, even some embarrassing things.” She stopped for a moment, remembering a time when they had gone to a clothes store and she had seen modern underwear for the first time, asking about their use.

"Right,” Leo nodded, probably thinking about the same incident.

Calypso continued: “He even knows several languages and has taught me some too, although I’m not sure how useful the Spanish swear words will be to me. He also built an entire battle ship and a mechanical dragon that’s basically alive.” (Festus, who was also nearby, snorted, meaning: ‘basically?’) “Rumor has it he died for his friends so no one else would have to and outwitted the death. Those alone are some pretty cool things. But there’s more.”

For once Leo didn’t know what to say. Never had he heard anyone talk about him like that.

“There are moments when I can see the past coming to haunt him. But even though he hurts, he tries his best to make others smile with his – maybe not always bad - jokes, and it usually works. And…” Calypso brushed a lock of black, curly hair behind Leo’s ear gently, “he came back to get me from Ogygia even though it was supposed to be impossible, even though I admit that I probably didn't give you a lot of reasons to like me… But somehow you saw through my cover and knew that I still cared about you, even though I really strongly tried to fight against it because I had been hurt too many times. When you showed up again… I’m pretty good at concealing my feelings but I actually wanted to cry when I saw you that day. Because someone really cared enough to break through the curse.”

She swiped a couple of tears that had fallen on her cheeks, with her other hand lifting Leo’s chin so she knew he was looking at her. His eyes were burning with emotions he didn’t know how to express.

“Of course I care!” he exclaimed. “Was I supposed to just leave you there after everything you did for me?!”

“Leo… Do you know how many times I had to listen to men promising to come back to me and they never did? I had already lost my hope after Percy and that was why I got so mad when you showed up for the first time. But… when I got to know you better, I think I started sensing that there was something different about you. That you’d really go through enormous lengths for someone you loved. Of course, I didn’t think you’d fall for me because I was acting the way I was, but for once, I got lucky.”

“No, you didn’t get lucky. You deserved it,” Leo said quietly.

“Whatever you say.” Calypso smiled a bit sadly. “Anyway. There are some things we still need to work on. For example, you still have to learn to appreciate yourself more. I can't do that for you… but I can be by your side and support you, as long as you let me.”

“Cal… thanks. I feel pretty stupid for doubting your feelings. Lo siento, for reals. If I do something like that again, feel free to punch me, or whatever. And if someone’s lucky here, that’s me because you’re pretty damn amazing.” Suddenly his face got his usual mischievous expression. “Now, as for those bad jokes...”

Calypso couldn’t help but smirk as well. “Ha, I knew you'd get stuck on that. You idiot. But maybe they are a part of your charm,” she shrugged.

"Wait. You think my jokes are charming?" Leo asked, now sounding a lot more like himself.

"Hush. Or I may change my mind about that," Calypso noted and pulled him for a much needed kiss.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #pjo #my fics

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katherinewilliams221b · 4 years

Text

For A Greater Good 1/18

Gif not mine just the text

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang's staff at Dumbledore's request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

If one finds themselves in a situation where the world is moving too fast for the brain to process, it’s only natural to want it to stop. Cedric’s death, the return of the Dark Lord and learning about the Order of the Phoenix happened too close to each other to be able to digest it.

Kate’s first mission consisted in convincing the Albanian government that Lord Voldemort had returned and, with no evidence, try to put the country in red alert. Now she faced another kind of challenge: infiltrating in Durmstrang to unmask a possible Death Eater that threatened the school. This time she wouldn’t have her father’s help to win.

Thinking about it, celebrating Christmas had been a luxury she now regretted. There were too many things to be done, and she needed to focus on discovering Voldemort’s minion.

A sudden icy breeze woke Kate from her thoughts. She stood impatiently in the place outside London that Dumbledore ordered her to go. She looked up at the sky, blue and free of clouds. A rare sunny day that she intended to enjoy for as long as she could.

She closed her eyes, resting her head against a streetlamp, and felt the warmth that the sun was providing.

The sensation of peace ended when the usual redness of her eyelids, because of the light, was replaced with darkness.

Three pairs of winged horses pulled a black carriage above her. After some manoeuvring, the carriage landed a few meters in front of her. She could see the Durmstrang emblem painted in bright red on the side of it.

A man, that shouldn’t fit inside a carriage of those dimensions, stepped out with a roll of parchment in his hands.

“Williams, Katherine. Meeting point L23, seven-thirty in the morning.”

“That would be me.” She approached the place where he stood and showed him her healer card. When he finished the register, he gestured to the door and conjured her trunk to follow him to the back of the carriage.

She stepped in expecting an extension charm but was rapidly disappointed to find a seat for one.

“Get comfortable.” murmured the man before slamming the door in her face.

Kate clutched her leather bag under her cape with one hand and her dragon necklace with the other and tried to calm her nerves with a deep breath.

“Attention everyone,” the driver’s voice sounded amplified through the room “Welcome aboard the second flight of this year, one that I am not recompensed for. The estimated duration of the flight is three hours and fourteen minutes, time that could have been greatly reduced if I was allowed to bring outsiders with the ship. If it’s absolutely imperative for you to succumb to basic needs, tap your wand three times to the piece of wood in front of you.”

She did notice he spoke to her in plural, but she decided to ignore it and rest her head against the window and watch how London got smaller and smaller as they ascended.

Astrid Rhode was an acquaintance of Dumbledore and current headmaster of Durmstrang Institute. She had expressed the vulnerability of the school after the sudden disappearance of Igor Karkarov and believed that a teacher was providing information to someone outside the institution.

Since the start of the year, some odd things had been occurring; missing books from the library, professors suffering accidents and students getting involved in more and more physical fights.

She emphasised her concerns on the latter, since they allow the students to duel in the school.

Dumbledore proposed her as a suitable mole, and professor Rhode offered a place in the hospital wing for her to work.

They both refused to give more details to the mission, considering that owls could be easily intercepted.

She opened her leather bag and took a small pouch containing some toasted almonds. Biting one of them, a memory of that same morning played itself in her head.

Kate brought a hand to her eyelids and rested her arm there for a moment. While she yawned, she could hear sounds coming from the kitchen. That gave her the strength to sit on her side of the bed and stare at the trunk that stood mockingly in a corner.

Looking behind her, she let out a heavy sigh at the sight of the still night sky.

Throwing her robe over her shoulders, she ventured outside the half-opened door.

Charlie stood facing the counter while he rummaged through the cupboards.

Sneaking behind him, she put her arms around his middle and buried her face in the back of his neck, considering getting back to sleep then and there.

“I’m sorry I woke you. I figured you could use a little more sleep.” He whispered, leaving the mugs on the counter and covering her arms with his.

“You were not wrong…” she mumbled.

Charlie enjoyed the quietness of the moment and stood there caressing her forearms with his thumbs. Contemplating the almonds, he had placed in a small fabric bag, he thought about how another long separation would threaten their relationship, what other obstacles would come in their way, the possibilities of her not returning or if she did return, what would happen then? What if she didn’t even... make it?

Mentally admonishing himself for the thoughts, he turned his head to look at her and a deep chuckle came out from his chest.

“Did you fall asleep?”

Kate didn’t move, just answered with a short “hm” which didn’t reveal if it was supposed to mean “yes” or “no”. She reluctantly detangled her arms and rounded him to steal an almond from the bag.

“Hey, those are for your trip,” he tied the thin cord around it and put the bag away from her grasp “no touching!”

Kate popped the one she had between her fingers into her mouth and smiled in surprise.

“You roasted them!”

He chuckled, trying to push her arms away from the bag. The playful fight ended up with the grumble of Kate’s stomach, which triggered another round of laughing.

“Here, take this.” They quickly set the kitchen island with orange juice, coffee and toast and enjoyed their last breakfast together, before another goodbye.

“You promise you will take care of yourself, right?” Charlie fastened the cape of her black robes around her neck.

“Well, I wasn’t going to, but if you ask…”

“I’m serious.”

Kate shook her head and grinned. She walked to the couch and grabbed her bag before standing in front of him again.

“I’m going to be just fine, and I won’t ‘play hero’ as you so often put it.” Sneaking her arms around his neck, it was his turn to shake his head.

“I know that’s a full lie but hearing it, it’s oddly reassuring, anyway.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, and they smiled.

“Now you are the one I’m worried about,” she said firmly. “Can I trust you not to put your head inside a dragon’s mouth? And I mean that quite literally.”

“I’ve never done that…” he started, and the gleam in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“Please don’t say ‘yet’.”

He chuckled and hugged her to him, holding her head against his shoulder.

Feeling her move, he met her eyes for a brief moment before touching his lips to her, a kiss that turned more intense than planned.

She touched his lower lip and pulled away, caressing from the corner of his mouth to his cheek.

“I have to go.”

Charlie nodded and walked her to the chimney where he helped her step in.

“What’s the plan then?”

When Charlie handed her the flu powder, she avoided the bowl and placed her hand on his wrist. Balancing herself, she stepped out of the chimney and grabbed Charlie’s face with both hands before stealing one last kiss.

“Head to Grimmauld Place and follow Dumbledore’s instructions.”

With his other hand, he freed the brown locks of hair that were trapped under the strap of her bag and brushed them out of her face.

“On your way, then.”

The moment Kate planted her foot on the ground and saw the castle before her, she understood, in some twisted way, why the school didn’t want to be found.

An immense paradise of mountains and lakes awaited her, and she couldn’t help but stare in awe at the medieval building in front of her.

It seemed smaller than Hogwarts, she thought, and less elegant, but the strong towers that were placed around it, gave the castle a unique and powerful appearance, like a defiant soldier prepared for battle.

A shiver ran through her and considered that, perhaps, she hadn’t prepared well enough to the hard weather of the place.

“Miss, the wand, please.” She turned to discover that someone was talking to her. “I won’t repeat myself…”

“Ah... the wand, yes.” She searched inside the layers of clothing and handed it to the insistent man that hadn’t bothered to look up at her.

A tap on her shoulder made her turn around, but the only thing she saw was the end of a wand that pointed right between her eyebrows.

Before she could react, an odd sensation invaded her body, and she suddenly felt out of place. Just a second ago, she was stepping into the chimney of her home in Romania and heading to Grimmauld place.

“Is your name Katherine Williams?” asked woman hidden behind an opened roll of parchment.

“Y... Yes but…”

“And you were asked to join the Hospital Wing at Durmstrang institute as a healer, correct?”

“Yes…”

Kate looked around her and had to do a double check when several people, elves and some ghosts seemed to pour out of a carriage near her. Confused by the scene, she didn’t hear the rest of the questions she was being asked until she heard the woman clearing her throat.

She had rolled the parchment, revealing a woman whose grey hair hardly reached Kate’s chest.

“Welcome to Durmstrang Institute! You came here in that carriage and we had to obliviate you for security reasons.” The woman signalled to the side, showing that the same was being done to the other passengers of the carriage.

“I’m Astrid Rhode, headmaster of the school. Albus informed me you were coming today, and I wanted to greet you personally. Come on, follow me. Don’t worry about your belongings.”

Kate tried to keep up with professor Rhode’s quick strides. They crossed the bridge that connected to the castle before standing in front of the entrance.

Warmth flooded through her the moment she stepped in, and she let out a grateful sigh.

“I’m afraid there’s something we didn’t think of: I won’t be able to understand a word,” Kate admitted as she sat on an armchair in front of headmaster Rhode’s desk.

Astrid made a slight attempt at a grin and grabbed a flask that was placed to her right.

“Unlike your dear school, it is a necessity here in Durmstrang to provide translating charms in all of our classrooms, as we have teachers from around the world. Take three drops of this potion every week and you will be able to talk to anyone, everywhere.”

Kate grabbed the bottle and looked at her curiously before smiling.

“I’ve never heard of this kind of magic... It’s fascinating.”

“That’s because it relatively new and not all countries are promoting this strategy. Here at Durmstrang, we value every kind of magic the world has to offer.”

Kate bit her tongue and swallowed the urge to ask about muggleborns’ magic. She accepted the papers Astrid was handing her and opened the first file.

“Now to the real reason you’re here. I did a first selection: the professors of magical creatures, quidditch and divination are out.”

Kate studied the four files while the headmaster talked.

“What happened that made you suspect you may have a mole?”

“I’m picking up the pieces of Karkarov’s terrible management. It’s left a school where its rules are based on fear and harsh discipline, and many others think like him. I believe you are familiar with his story?”

“I know that Dumbledore trusted him. Can I keep these?” Astrid conceded with a wave of the hand, and Kate slid the files under her robes.

“Yes, well, you gain a friend and a free enemy in the process. I don’t think You Know Who’s followers liked his betrayal. He went into hiding last year, he is probably dead”

Kate crossed her legs and shook her head.

“I don’t understand…”

Professor Rhode stood up and paced the room. She looked like a caged jaguar, Kate thought.

“I accepted the position because of my devotion to the obscure side of magic, but I don’t want murderers running around the castle.”

Kate could tell she was carefully selecting her words: because of the way she avoided her look and shifted her hands from back to front.

“I know that some teachers agreed with his ideas. I want to know how far they can go.”

“Isn’t it just as simple as looking at their forearms?”

“None of them has a mark.” Those words, pronounced so dryly and with the only purpose of surprising, caused the desired effect.

Kate leaned in towards the desk when professor Rhodes sat down again. Anticipating her question, Astrid hurried to talk.

“Those people,” she started, pointing at Kate’s chest, “have been acting strangely since I replaced Igor… disappearing without explanations, cancelling classes, suffering accidents… Something is happening in this school and I want you to discover what it is.”

“Why me?”

“Why you, indeed. Well, Albus can be very insistent. He assured that you were trustworthy and had a special ability in discovering things. Also, you being a healer is a side benefit, we always need more around here.”

Astrid stood up again and walked to the door.

“Classes start again in less than a week, plenty of time for you to adjust. I’ll show you your room and then the castle if you’re not too tired.”

After climbing infinitely long stairs, they arrived at the very top of the castle. Definitely the darkest place of the building.

“At the end of that hallway, you will find your room. Right in front of it, there’s a bathroom.” Kate nodded and thanked her, before making her way to what it would be her new bedroom.

It was dark and gloomy, and a layer of dust covered practically every surface. Kate approached the window and opened the curtains, revealing a breath-taking view of the mountains and a lake so wide that could have been a sea. It was a beautiful place wherever she was. Looking down, she saw the monumental stone bridge that connected the castle to the forest. Although unlikely, if one happened to fall off it, they would meet the deep abyss under it.

She was about to open her trunk when she noticed a figure stepping out of the woods and cross the bridge to the castle. From the fourth floor, she couldn’t see who it was, as the person was covered in thick robes and a hat.

Feeling cold, Kate started to clean the room and prepare everything for her new job.

Astrid took a big key from her pocket and opened the wooden doors that were before them.

“This is the Events Hall, we host numerous duelling competitions, art exhibitions, conferences, the AEDA...” The place had some resemblance with the Great Hall of Hogwarts, without the dining tables. Big red curtains covered equally big stained-glass windows.

“What’s the AEDA?”

“Oh, that’s The Annual Exposition of Dark Arts: all the students are allowed to take part. In March we give a topic and they have until June to prepare something related to the theme. It’s held here, in this hall, and teachers give some prizes to the best ones.” Her voice was filled with pride, and it was clear that she was looking forward to it.

“Students are also allowed to experiment and train by themselves this is why we have empty rooms for them to study or practise, and also a high demand of healers.” She attempted to laugh at her joke and drew half a smile out of Kate.

She inspected the windows. Each of them represented medieval scenes of wizards in some kind of battle. Professor Rohde’s voice echoed when she spoke again.

“Let’s go, I’ll show you the hospital wing.”

They moved rapidly through the stone halls. She could feel the stares and the suspicious glances from those students that had stayed for Christmas, but she held her head high and pretended not to notice.

Astrid stopped in front of two grey doors with a symbol of a dragon curled up around a wand. She gestured her to enter and Kate complied.

It was noticeably bigger than Hogwarts hospital wing, Kate couldn't help the comparison.

Big curtains covered equally big windows from where the sunlight was entering, hitting several bookshelves of untouched books.

Kate followed the illuminated dust that was floating and admired the large cabinet at the end of the room. A slim woman stood right in front of it, with her back to them.

"Miss Williams, that is Cassandra Steiner, head mediwizard. She will explain all you need to know about the healing system."

Presumably overhearing her name, Cassandra Steiner turned around and marched towards them with apprehension in her face.

"I imagine this is the new addition?" Kate's eyes couldn't help travelling to Steiner's chest, where a golden key was hanging around her neck. The healer quickly hid the key under her robes and pierced into Rhode's eyes.

"Yes, we can always use some help, don't you think, Cassandra?"

Kate extended her arm to shake Steiner's hand, and she complied reluctantly.

"Kate Williams."

"I guess we can always find use to two new hands. Can you start right away?”

Astrid interrupted Kate before she was able to pronounce a word.

“I arranged it for her to start on Monday.” She announced to both Cassandra and Kate.

“Now I’m going to the kitchens to see if I can find a goblet of good wine. Do you want to join me?”

“I think I’ll return to my room. I want to write a letter.” Answered Kate.

“You will find paper and ink on your desk.” Astrid was almost out of the door when she turned to look at Kate again.

“Welcome to Durmstrang, miss Williams.”

[Part 2]

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley xofc #charlie weasley x ofc #hphm #mc #kate williams #durmstrang #ocs #the plan is to have 17 chapters and an epilogue #the thing is #there's a lot of characters for the size of the fic #i wrote it in a way that i keep mentioning names so the reader knows who i am talking about #but #if you read it and consider that its tedious or unecessary let me know so i can improve!#i'm having so much fun writing it and I hope you like it as well #thinking back to my first fic i think i've improved my writing but we'll see :P

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foodcourtdetective · 5 years

Text

i’ll be yours in any way you’ll have me

summary: y/n waits for her soulmate to return from visiting Gene in the hospital, but there’s good news and bad news when Barry finally gets home.

tags: tw gun violence, tw anxiety attack, soulmate au, love at first sight, nods to canon but obvious twists on it, stressful plot with a happy ending

A/N: thank you for all of your lovely support! this is the end of the soulmark!au but I have another fic half-written if anyone is interested!

word count 1.7k

part 1 x // Part 2 x // AO3 x

Y/N was lounging on the couch, reading her psychology of personal adjustment textbook while mindlessly writing important terms in the notebook precariously balanced on her bent left leg. Barry was visiting Gene in the hospital; the couple had planned on finally celebrating the success of the scenes showcase after the pandemonium that had occurred opening night. Sure enough, Sally upstaging Barry in the scene and getting all the acclaim on the same night as Fuches escaping had been a bit of a dark cloud looming over her boyfriend. Y/N closed her books, her grad work forgotten as her eye caught the Catalina Breeze bottle displayed proudly on her mantle. She sighed happily before turning her glance over to Barry’s phone on the kitchen counter nearby. He had insisted on leaving his phone which her at all times so if Fuches was tracking their devices, the older man would think that Barry was always watching over his girlfriend. NoHank had given him a burner phone for when he had to leave her, even offering to stay nearby if Y/N needed backup.

She chuckled to herself, remembering the instant shine NoHank had taken to her. Any girl of Barry’s is a girl of mine. Despite the contention between the two criminals, Y/N could tell that Barry and NoHank really did have a strong connection. She could only imagine how excited NoHank would be for Barry when he finds out that he got the part in the Jay Roach movie after all. The leading man himself had yet to receive the news and Y/N hoped that the combination of Gene getting better and the huge career score would cheer up her soulmate when he got back. The rattling of the doorknob pulled her out of her happy thoughts, forcing her to confront the idea that someone was breaking into her apartment. Her heart jumped up her throat as she stood up, her books falling silently on the carpet as Y/N reached for the Glock 43 stored underneath the couch. Carefully tip-toeing to hide behind the kitchen island by the door, Y/N pointed the gun at the door with her dominant hand and speed-dialed the burner phone with her other hand. Despite herself, she thought back to how Barry had shown her these safety precautions and how goofy his long legs had looked as he crouched down behind their counter, how he had hindered her giggles with a hard kiss that somehow conveyed the severity of all of his emotions.

The phone was shaking as she raised it to her ear. “C’mon Bear, please pick u—“ her voice betrayed her fear as it cracked on her pet name for him, the one she had coined after comparing him to the teddy bear she used to cuddle as a child. Y/N’s prayers were cut off by the door swinging open, the lock successfully tampered with. She took a shaky breath and mentally prepared herself to jump for the intruder’s legs, to shoot— Her thoughts were interrupted as the intruder fell to his knees, revealing himself to be none other than Barry Berkman. She lowered the gun and put it down slowly, a choked sob of relief betraying her presence to him. He didn’t acknowledge her, staring at the floor with a hopeless look on his face as silent, angry tears streamed down his face. Y/N crawled over to his side, tilting her head downward to try to look into his big eyes.

“Bear-“

“Gene knows. Fuches told him I.. I…” Barry started hyperventilating, the raw emotions of guilt and hurt overwhelming him as his hands flapped like an actor trying to “shake it out.” Y/N intercepted his hands before he could punch something, her warm thumbs stroking his knuckles soothingly. Their soulmarks burned like they always did when they got closer to each other, still visible as his hands were surprisingly clean of any blood. He looked up at her, trying to read her face, trying to see how badly he had messed things up.

“How can he believe the man that framed him for murder? Besides, there’s proof that it was the Chechens…” she tried to reassure him.

“He told me to leave town, to never step into his class again,” he choked on his words, wheezing on the large gulps of air he was sucking in. Y/N shushed him kindly, pulling his long arms around her waist as she pressed her lips to his forehead. Her own hands left his so she could wrap her arms around his neck and stroke his hair, trying to envelop Barry in warm love as he cried into her CSUN sweatshirt. They sat there for a while until he pulled away, in awe of how she supported him unconditionally, without the same self interest everyone else valued in his relationship with them. Taking his observation as a victory, Y/N helped the assassin to his feet and walked him to the couch, kicking the books out of the way. As Barry hesitantly sat on the couch, Y/N pressed her hands atop his thighs and pressed her forehead to his.

“You sit here. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to call Leo and tell him that a con artist named Kenneth Goulet has been manipulating Gene and feeding him lies to isolate him from his loved ones. Then I’ll try to get him to let you go to class next week. You might have to pay extra the first couple sessions or lay low in participating but once he’s off his sedatives, it will be like it never happened. Okay?” She gave him a chaste but sweet kiss as he sat there, stunned by her calculated solution. Not paying his shock too much mind, Y/N headed over to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry, I know hospital food is terrible. I’m going to heat up my Mediterranean food if you want some. Just promise me you’ll take me to that new hipster cafe next weekend to make it up to me, m’kay?” Pulling the plastic container out and placing it in the microwave, Y/N tapped a few buttons before turning back to him to tell him about the part he had gotten. Barry was looking right at her, a look of epiphany painting his face as he asked her a question that stopped her pleasantries in their tracks.

“Marry me?”

“What!?” She asked, bewildered by his simple request out of nowhere. Suddenly aware of what he asked, Barry sheepishly stood up and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, we can’t actually get married on paper because of my whole fake identity thing and I know you’re still working on grad school, but you’re my soulmate, literally and emotionally, and I want to prove that I’m gonna spend the rest of my ugly life with you in it and oh god, this was too soon is it—“ mid-rant he noticed that Y/N had closed the distance between them, her face glowing with happiness and her eyes glistening with tears.

“Yes! Of course yes! I’ll be yours in any way you’ll have me!” Emboldened by her response, Barry picked Y/N up into a hug, spinning her around with the same strength that broke a man’s windpipe to share his love for her. As Barry set her down, he placed both hands on her beaming cheeks and laughed in disbelief.

“Wow, I’m sorry I had plans! I don’t even have a ring yet…”

“I do!” Barry pulled a pistol out of the back waistband of his pants, roughly pushing his fiancé behind him as he faced the doorway to the bedroom, the source of the strange voice. NoHank had emerged from Y/N’s walk-in closet with tears in his eyes and his hands in the air, a twinkling ring in one hand.

“What the hell, Hank??”

“I told you I would stay nearby your zuda!” NoHank lowered his hands as Barry stored the gun back in its original spot. The bald Chechen handed him the ring, a bright smile on his face.

“Thank you, Hank,” Y/N smiled at her friend, gesturing for Barry to put the blood diamond on her finger. He simply obeyed, his muttering under his breath about getting her a clean ring later quieted by her soft eyes.

“Oh this is SO beautiful!!! I have shipped you ever since you guys went to the shooting range together!”

“GET OUT HANK!”

“But-“ a flurry of movement and a warning shot cut short whatever NoHank was about to say, the bullet hitting the wall next to the memorial bottle. NoHank yelped, scampering out the bedroom window behind him. Y/N shook her head, a wry smile on her face as Barry made a show of putting his gun away.

“That was a little dramatic, Bear.” He shrugged in response, kissing her earnestly with a joy he had never known. This commitment wasn’t going to be easy with Fuches still at large and Gene still unstable, but the radiance of affection that swelled through his once empty heart told him it would be worth it. After a long, beautiful kiss, Y/N broke it with a smile and tilted her head up at him.

“So am I ever going to know your real name?” He looked down at her, a gentle flush across his features as he pretended to consider her request. Suddenly, Y/N found his lips tickling her ear as he whispered faintly. She laughed, twisting away to get a good look at her fiancé.

“Bartholomew! That is SUCH an actor’s name,” she laughed, ruffling his hair as he just gave her a lovesick look. Heading back to the kitchen to get their food, Y/N failed to notice Barry following her into the kitchen and yelped when he encircled her waist with both arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“You know, you should change your actor’s name to Bartholomew Block for the Roach movie so it’s half real, half fake,” she added, the accidental reveal of the big news not dawning on her until Barry turned her to face him, the complete and blissful shock vibrant on his face.

“I GOT THE PART!” Y/N’s shy little nod prompted Barry to tackle her onto the floor playfully, his fingers brushing against her side accidentally and drawing a laugh from her lips. Kissing right under her ear, he smiled brighter than the sun.

“That is the second best news I’ve heard today!”

#ah what a journey #thanks for the support!#also fun fact #this part was written first and was originally 300 words #I close at the open?#barry berkman x reader #barry #barry hbo #barry block x reader #soulmate au #barry berkman imagine #barry block imagine #barry block #bill hader #hbo #bill hader x reader #my words #engagement fic #proposal fic

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hazzastylesfanfics · 4 years

Text

Part 2/?

still testing the waters with this but i think it’s starting to shape into something i like?

idk

i’ll do longer parts if people are interested!

lemme know :-)

I curse whoever decided that glass doors were a good idea and weigh my options. I could fully ignore him. It’s not like I’d made eye contact with him. Twice. I could also act like an actual adult and go to the door. Opening 10 minutes early wouldn’t be the end of the world.

I finally move my body cemented in place towards the door. He flashes that damned smile at me causing me to trip and drop my keys. Even on my best days I can barely hold my shit together. I give him a little wave, place the keys into the lock, turn, and crack the door.

“We’re not open yet,” I blurt out. Apparently my lips decided to not consult my brain before speaking. Of course he knows we’re not open, Grey. The front door is literally locked. Idiot.

The corner of his mouth rises into a smirk. “I was passing by and wanted to stop in for another small coffee.”

“At 5:45 in the morning?” He can’t be serious. I’m not falling for the “just passing by” trick.

“Yeah, I try to go on a run every morning.”

I realize how stupid I look then, shielding myself with the door and a blank expression on my face. So he’s not stalking me. Plenty of people run through the Pearl in the mornings, apparently he is one of them. I really need to get my head straight.

“Right. Sorry, uh come on in.” I pull the door open wide enough for him to walk by me. True to his word, he’s in running gear. I notice his arms are glistening slightly. God, look at those arms. A ship inked onto his left bicep catches my eye. Does this guy have a nautical thing going or something?

He slides by just close enough for me to get a smell of his aftershave. He smells incredible. This is a joke. Not only does this guy look unfairly enticing after a run, but he even smells good. I shake my head in an attempt to chase away the dirty thoughts running through it.

“Er, I haven’t brewed drip yet so it’ll be a minute or so. Is that okay?” I hurry behind the counter as he stops at the register.

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“Cool, cool,” I mumble.

I feel his eyes burning into my back as I grind the espresso beans and toss them into a filter. I press brew above the empty container and watch a steady stream of coffee pour into the open top.

“What’s your name?” He asks conversationally. I turn to face him. He’s casually leaning on the front counter, fidgeting with the merchandise sitting on it.

“It’s Grey.”

With amusement in his eyes, he meets mine. “Like the color?”

If I had a dollar for every person who’s asked me that over the years I would have enough to legally declare grey was no longer a color.

“Yeah, I guess.” I scrunch up my nose for a moment. “It’s more like my parents partied too much and smoked a lot of weed and thought Grey was a perfectly suitable name for a human being.”

That earns me a laugh from him. “I like it. Very moody.” He winks.

“Thanks.” I look down at my twiddling thumbs. “Uh, what’s yours?”

“Harry,” he says.

“Like what’s on your head?” The words escape before I can stop them. I can feel my ears redden at my idiotic joke. He chuckles softly.

“Something like that. It’s fairly boring if you ask me.”

“No booze and drugs involved?” We both laugh. The beep of the brewer behind me indicates it’s finished. “You said a small, right?”

“Whatever you’d like to give me,” he says coyly.

I give my head a little shake. I fill a 12-ounce cup to the top, remembering he likes no room, and snap the lid on. I spin around and nearly drop his coffee in the process. He’s leaning as far forward as he can on the counter, arms extended in front of him with his hands clasped. My eyes trail along the curves of his arms for a second, fantasizing about them pinning me down to this very counter and-

“So what are you doing when you get off?”

“Get off?” He matches my puzzled expression. “Oh! You mean work.” I mentally kick myself. Get your head out of the damn gutter, Grey. “I’ll probably just go home and take a nap. That’s usually what I do on the days I open.”

“Not much of a morning person?” He takes a sip of his coffee. I can’t help but watch his lips wrap around the lid. My thoughts wander to his lips to what else he could wrap them around.

“I despise mornings,” I agree. “Days shouldn’t start before 10 a.m. if you ask me.”

“Sounds like you’re in the right line of work then.” He smiles. How am I just noticing the deep dimples that indent his face when does? They paint the perfect illusion of youth.

“I’m good at it.” I shrug. “It’s an easy job anyway. Tips are good.”

“Speaking of, how much do I owe you?” He reaches for his wallet.

“It’s on the house.” I smile.

“If it’s because I came before you opened then I can wait until the register is ready or whatever,” he reasons.

“No, no it really is fine.” I glance at the clock on the iPad. “We’re open now anyway.”

“I insist.”

“It’s a dollar seventy-five; I think we’ll be alright.”

“Let me pay you back tonight then?” He peaks over the top of his coffee as he takes another sip, looking hopeful. “Drinks?”

“Uh-” I bite my lip. Did this guy really walk in here with the intention of asking me out or is fate throwing me a sympathy bone? “I can probably do that, yeah. What time?”

His expression relaxes. “Whenever works for you. I can pick you up at your place or you can swing by mine? Do you live around here?”

“My apartment isn’t far from here. There are some bars within walking distance of it if you just wanted to meet me at mine?”

“Sure, just send me the address.” He pulls his phone out and hands it to me across the counter. I take it and type my phone number in, adding it to his contacts. Grey, (like the color), I add.

“Here you are.” I hold his phone out to him. Our hands brush momentarily and every nerve in my body ignites. They’re soft. His hands are really soft. “You better not ghost me.” I laugh.

His eyebrows shoot up and a look of exaggerated shock takes over his features. “I would never.” He laughs along with me. “Do I look like the type of lad to do that?”

The door opens and two of my morning regulars walk in before I can answer. He glances over his shoulder and then back to me.

“Looks like that’s my cue.” I smile apologetically.

“See you tonight.” His eyes twinkle like two stars I could get lost in.

As he’s leaving I notice a five-dollar bill in the tip jar.

“I look terrible in absolutely everything, oh my god!! Why do I even own half of this shit!” I fall facedown on my bed next to Lana.

“Shut up, babe you’ve looked hot in everything you’ve put on,” she assures.

“You’re a fucking liar and you know it.” I sigh. “It’s easy for you to say considering you look good in everything you wear.”

“Not true.” She stands and walks to my wardrobe. “What about this?” Lana pulls out a midi, light grey silk dress.

I sit up. “Don’t you think a slip dress is a bit...much?” I scrunch my nose up. “I don’t even know if this is a date.”

The texts Harry and I exchanged throughout the day were short and simple. He never explicitly said the word “date” nor did he really flirt much. It made me feel anxious.

“You said yourself you didn’t want this to be a date,” she responds.

“That’s not what I meant. I just- You know how it is.”

She sighs. “Sometimes Grey? I really don’t. C’mon, this gorgeous guy is clearly into you and you’re gonna play these stupid games with him? He could actually be a decent guy, ya know. Can we also talk about the fact that he’s fucking British? How often do you find that in Portland?”

“Not interested.” I take the dress from her hand and hold it up to my body, observing it in the mirror on my wardrobe door. It really is a pretty dress. I’ve only worn it a handful of times but it’s done wonders for me every time I have. I could toss a white tee over it and knot it to tone it down a bit. Sandals would also help. I undress and let the silk fall over my body. I forgot how it hugged what little curves I have just enough to hint at them.

Lana’s eyes narrowed in approval. “That. You have to wear that. Remind me why I’ve never borrowed it again?”

“Because you were gifted with an ass and I wasn’t?” Envy consumes me. Lana had this perfectly curvy body that genetics would never allow me to have. She constantly switches between hating it and loving it.

“Oh right, that.” She frowns. “So you’re really not gonna give this Harry guy a chance?”

I pull a white tee out from my drawer and pull it over my head. After fussing with the knot for a minute, I settle on one I like. “What do I even do with my hair?” I ignore her question and walk down the hall toward my bathroom.

She follows and perches on the edge of the bathtub. My tiny bathroom barely fits us comfortably. “Grey, seriously. Maybe it’s time to open yourself up again.”

I pause with my hands holding up my hair in a simple, low messy bun. I pull a few strands of my bangs out to frame my face. Not liking what I see, I drop it in frustration and run my fingers through my loose brown curls. Maybe I could just wear it naturally. Except I hadn’t washed it from my shift this morning and it smelled of coffee. I sighed. Naps are great until I sleep the day away. Back to the bun it is.

“I like the bun,” Lana comments.

“Is my makeup too like-”

“Come fuck me makeup?” She finishes for me.

I laugh lightly. “Not exactly how I would have put it but, sure.”

“You look hot, babe. If I was Harry I would most definitely have that dress on the floor by the end of the night.”

I bite my tongue through my teeth and smile. “That’s the goal.”

We walk back to my room so I can find shoes and my purse. I check my phone for the time and see I’ve missed a call and two texts from Harry.

Sorry if you’re not ready. I’m a bit early.

Then, 10 minutes later.

Should I come up or wait for you down here?

“Oh shit, he’s early.” I dash around my room looking for my ID and grab a bundle of cash from the vase I keep my tips in. Lana is laying on my bed absentmindedly petting Charlie. She’s curled up on my pillow - her favorite place. “You can stick around as long as you want but I can’t guarantee what will be happening in here later.” I smile devilishly.

“Thanks for that, Grey,” she replies sarcastically. “I’ll head out after you two are gone. Sure you don’t want me to tag along as backup?”

“Yeah and have you flirt with him the entire night? I’ll pass.” I fluff my hair once more in the mirror and make sure my lipstick is in place.

“I’m just saying, I would give the boy a chance so maybe you should too.”

“Right, uh-huh.” I’m already halfway to the front door.

“Be safe!” I hear as the door clicks shut behind me.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles #harry

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0zrockbitway · 5 years

Text

❤ @lunemarii ❤

heyo! I’m your secret santa!! I wrote you something Taiyou centric for a pokezuma au! I’ve seen you like him and Larvesta a few times so thought it would be neat to write out!! Anyway, hope your holidays are a good one!

title: Towards the Sun characters: Amemiya Taiyou summary: Taiyou is finally heading home, but excitement and doubts plague his mind. He’s really glad that there’s someone beside him. {pokemon au}

A bright, orange haired boy sits on the wooden deck of the ship, dull blue eyes sparkling as his gaze was cast ahead. He's focused on the unseen, something that lays past the waters that splash against the ship, yet remains underneath the sunny sky. Unaware of his own actions, the boy leans forward, slightly, slowly, as he waits for his home region to appear from the horizon. The thought of returning home causes his legs to bounce, makes that smile on his face grow, gets his heart to start racing due to the excitement of what's to come.

The small fire bug curled up in his lap begins to stir, easily reading his trainer's mood. If it weren't for feeling the impatient twitch of his legs, the smile and determined glint in his eyes would have given it all away. The Larvesta moves in Taiyou's lap, looking up to the human and patting at his chest in order to gain his attention.

Taiyou blinks as he's pulled back into reality by his partner. That smile is still kept on his face, though turns into a softer one when looking to that familiar Pokemon of his. A hand is raised and placed upon the small bug, repeating a back and forth motion on that warm, white fur.

"You doing okay, Apollo? Is the sea bothering you?"

The Pokemon gives a shake of his head to the last question before attempting to have this small legs reach to the human's chest. It causes him to blink in surprise before letting out a short chuckle.

"Oh, you're worried about me, huh?"

He should have known that Apollo could pick up on the little changes in his heart by now. The little guy had been with him for so long, how could he not?

Apollo had been a gift, as an egg, from his grandparents on his tenth birthday. Being sickly and unable to start his journey like the other trainers, they wanted him to still have a Pokemon of his own. And an egg would be a nice surprise for him, they thought, as it would contain a Pokemon from his home region. (They never told him what Pokemon would hatch, of course, they left that as a true surprise.)

He certainly loved the gift nevertheless. And he loved what hatched from it, dearly.

The moment the egg had hatched, Taiyou had never let the small bug out of his sight. He kept the Pokemon by his side, bonded with him. The two became an inseparable pair.

"You're so warm!" He chirped with the Pokemon in his hands, holding him up in the air. "And I remember legends say you used to come from the sun…" A phase, his head tilts, yet thoughtful eyes never leave the Larvesta. "If you're going to have a name…how about- Apollo?"

The first memory with his partner was cherished, but so where all the other memories. Every and any moment were special with Apollo. The Pokemon had managed to make his dull life more eventful during his years staying at Verdanturf in Hoenn. Even if he couldn't really go out and battle or train (he was strictly told not to by his nurse), he still found ways to have fun with his new partner.

Life would have been terribly boring without Apollo. Verdanturf was a rather (too) peaceful and quiet town. Being stuck indoors was a literal hell before getting his hands on that lucky egg of his. This little creature had saved his life, gave him a ray of hope, a spot of happiness.

Lost in his thoughts, Taiyou hadn't stopped petting the Pokemon. Coming back from them caused the boy to pick up the fire bug and pull him towards his chest, easily feeling the warmth from his small body radiate onto his own.

"You're a great little guy, Apollo, you know that?"

The Pokemon glances up to his trainer before legs begin to wriggle and a happy cry escapes from him. Taiyou holds him for a while longer before pulling back and letting him rest in his lap once more.

"Can you believe it? We're finally going home…and finally going to start our very own journey together!"

It was something he'd been waiting for- just dying for this day to come. Even if his condition still wasn't the greatest, it had been deemed stable enough for him to return home. There was debate about him starting his own journey, warnings about how he shouldn't overexert himself and should take it easy. But, he wouldn't take no for an answer. While he was supposed to keep an eye on his health, take breaks and the occasional medicine (and more), it didn't deter him from chasing after his dream. Not one bit.

Or so he liked to believe.

Taiyou couldn't help but wonder about the future. If things would be as great as he imagined and if he could really live up to the life of a trainer. He knew that he could handle himself in battle, Apollo could too. (They knew this from their little 'secret' escapes outside the town and into the nearest route.) But, he feared about his condition taking a turn for the worse and how it could steal everything away from him in just the skip of a heartbeat. He truly wanted to follow his dream and he'd live it no matter what, but…what if he didn't make it all the way? He was fine doing what he could, but the thought of leaving Apollo (and his future partners) was something that bothered him.

Apollo was all he had. And he couldn't dare think of leaving his best friend all alone. Maybe he was overthinking, fearing for the worst. It was a silly thing, a silly voice in the back of his mind. Maybe he was worrying over nothing. What did that voice know? But, maybe-

The feeling of something soft brushing against his hand snaps him out of his worried thoughts. Again, the little Pokemon knew what his trainer was thinking and was only trying to get him out of this troubled mood.

"Sorry. I guess I never really did think this day would come…" The smile on his face flickers for a moment before he pulls Apollo in for another hug. "I've always dreamed of going on an adventure with you. And it's only a matter of time before I can finally live it. But…I wish I wouldn't have to worry about myself. Normally I wouldn't, but now…"

The Pokemon interrupts, beginning to nuzzle at Taiyou's cheek now that he was close enough to do so. A cry is let out and Taiyou swears that he can understand what he's saying, almost hear those lovely and reassuring words. It makes him light up, despite not knowing if he imagined those words or not.

"You're right. With you by my side, I'll be okay. I know you'll be looking out for me. And as long as we're together, we'll be an unstoppable pair!"

He gives Apollo one last squeeze before getting to his feet, Pokemon now being carried in his arms. He takes small and careful steps towards the railings of the ship, now getting a better view of the vast ocean before him.

A breath is taken, the ocean breeze gently pushing against his body. The air was different out on the ocean, saltier compared to the fresh air he had become accustomed to in Verdanturf.

"Grandma said I should visit mom when I get back home. But you know, it's been a long time since I've been around Castelia. So, I think a little detour should be okay. Besides, I'm definitely getting us a Casteliacone!"

Hearing the name of the treat caused the Pokemon's eyes to sparkle. He could recall all of the treats his trainer had listed from Unova. The thought of having the cold treat soon made his upper legs wriggle in excitement.

There was a quick glance down to see Apollo's reaction before looking back out towards the horizon. There was still time left before his adventure would truly begin. As excited as he was, staying out on the deck until that hour came wouldn't be much fun. He wanted to have some fun here- a small adventure with his dear partner before the big one began.

"Why don't we go and take a look around the ship again? Waiting around isn't going to do either of us any good. And maybe we'll find someone to battle! Or at least another trainer to speak with."

The Pokemon nods his head in agreement and Taiyou smiles in response. Apollo begins to crawl out of the boy's hold, climbing up his chest and getting comfortable on a shoulder. Once Apollo is ready, Taiyou turns on his heel, walking on the wooden deck and back into the ship, hoping to start his new adventure off right.

#lunemarii #secret sakka 2018 #Inazuma Eleven #secretsakka2018 #taiyou amemiya

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Off Limits, Chapter 1 (Bitney, Willaska) - Veronica/Albatross

A/N: Hey guys! This is the companion story to “No Strings Attached.” We’re tagging them both as “Just Friends” so that it’ll be easy to read the chapters in order, but once it gets complicated, I might include a guide. Both ships are in both stories, but generally, “No Strings Attached” is Willaska-focused and this one is Bitney-focused. (Link to all chapters in order, which so far is just 2.)

Summary: When Bianca meets her new roommates, she’s especially captivated by one of them. Worse, the feeling seems to be mutual.

***

Bianca hated being fucking late. It was bad enough that she’d had to drive all the way from New Orleans to California, praying that her 7-year-old Kia wouldn’t break down. But for the last leg of her trip, which should have been 45 minutes, she got caught in an accident on the freeway that turned what should have been a short, pleasant zip up the freeway into a torturous 4-hour crawl.

By the time she reached the dorms, she was fuming--not to mention exhausted. And having to lug her shit from possibly the worst parking spot in the garage did nothing to improve her shitty mood. By the time she’d achieved some semblance of order in her room, she was hot and thirsty and as cranky as she’d ever been.

She chugged about a gallon of water and then collapsed on the sofa, arm over her eyes, trying to summon the energy to think about a shower.

It was then when the front door swung open and a trio of laughing, chattering girls poured inside.

Bianca looked up. At first glance, all she saw was Blonde, Blonde, Blonde. A bunch of perfect, plastic sorority girls, exactly the type of girl she couldn’t stand. (And, if she was honest, exactly the type of girl that she always feared a little bit.) She groaned inwardly, sitting up and giving them a withering glare.

Unable to help herself, she announced, “Great...I’m living with a bunch of bottle blonde bitches.” As the words left her mouth, she realized that she was perhaps not making the best first impression. But instead of taking it back, she doubled down with, “So whose hideous leopard duvet is that?”

The Littlest Blonde burst into delighted giggles, before glancing at the (Bianca assumed) Duvet-Owning Blonde beside her and pressing her lips together contritely.

Slutty Blonde slung an arm around Duvet Blonde and said, “Calm down, bitch. Some of us are garbage pails with hideous taste. We’re still people.”

Bianca pursed her lips, determined to continue hating them all.

With that, Little Blonde skipped forward, flinging herself onto the sofa and offering a bright smile.

“Hi, I’m Courtney. You must be our fourth roommate,” she said.

She had an accent--a cute accent. Shit. Do not let the accent fool you. This Barbie doll bitch isn’t your friend.

“Wow...what gave that away, detective?” Bianca asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Well…” she leaned in conspiratorially, speaking in a low voice. “It would be a little weird for you to be here, if you weren’t. So...” She finished with a flutter of lashes and another dazzling smile, green eyes dancing with amusement.

Well, fuck. Bianca was not planning to be this charmed, this quickly. The plan was to be grumpy and sulk for awhile. Foiled by a pretty face...not the first time, but still annoying.

“Genius.” Bianca tried to suppress her smile, but dimples poked through anyway.

“I knooow, right?”

Australian. Bianca winced. Surely this was some kind of karmic justice for a terrible deed she’d done as a child. After all, there was no way in hell that Bianca would get involved with one of her roommates. She was many things, but she was not that messy.

“So, are you gonna tell us your name?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Bianca. Hi.”

“Hi, Bianca, nice to meet you.”

God, even the way she said her name was sexy. Bee-aaaahn-cah. Ugh. Bianca was well and truly fucked.

“Hey, I’m Willam,” Slutty Blonde said, perching on the arm of the sofa. “And that’s Alaska...your roommate. You should be nicer to her; she’s cool.”

Duvet Blonde gave a halfhearted wave.

“Hi, Alaska,” Bianca said, slightly chagrined, “I’m sorry...about your lack of taste. We’ll work on it.”

Courtney giggled again, tossing her hair, still watching Bianca closely. And as much as she wanted to look away, to dismiss her as some airhead, she had to admit that something in her eyes was captivating.

“So, Bianca...where are you from?” Courtney asked.

“New Orleans,” Bianca told her.

“Oooh, have you ever been to Mardi Gras?!” she asked, eyes lighting up.

“Uhh. Yeah.”

“Did you bring us any beads?”

“Why not get out your tits and see, Court?” Willam suggested.

Courtney started to lift the edge of her shirt, and Bianca’s eyes went wide--this girl was turning out to be a lot more than she’d bargained for. Courtney glanced at her surprised face and burst out laughing again.

“Just kidding.”

“Good one,” Bianca offered, a little ashamed at the flash of disappointment she felt. Of course she was kidding; Bianca needed a cold shower.

“So, are you a new student here?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah.” Bianca cleared her throat. “I transferred from LSU.”

“Where’s that?”

“Louisiana...State...University,” Bianca explained slowly, as if she was talking to a child. Her tone was intentionally condescending, but Courtney continued her rapid-fire questions undeterred.

“Ah! Brilliant. And have you-”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Bianca said. She’d never experienced that many questions in a row, and considering her gigantic nosy-ass family, that was saying a lot. If she wasn’t so cute, Bianca would be thoroughly irritated.

“Sure does,” Willam added with an eye roll.

“Oh yeah. I know. Is it annoying you?” Courtney bit her lip, head tilted cutely.

“That’s another question,” Bianca declared stonily, pretending once again not to be charmed. And doing a piss-poor job of it, if the glimmer in Courtney’s eyes was any indication.

“Hmm, I guess it is,” Courtney said, tone lilting and gently mocking. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Maybe I should ask you some questions.”

“Maybe you should!” Courtney replied brightly. She stretched her legs--long, tan, killer legs--placing them on the coffee table and folding them delicately at the ankles. “What would you like to know?”

Do you moan in an Australian accent?

Bianca coughed, mind blanking for a moment, before admitting with a shrug, “I guess...I’m not very curious.”

“Pity. ‘Cause I’m an open book.”

“Uh. Good to know.” After a beat, Bianca offered, “So. I had kind of a shitty morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Courtney sat up straighter, the teasing smirk replaced with an expression of genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine, I just...I was actually about to jump in the shower. I’ll probably be in a better mood after that.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Willam, and Alaska let out a clipped laugh.

“I deserved that,” Bianca said with a nod and wry smile. “So I guess I’ll go...do that.”

With one last glance at the group, Bianca got up and walked towards her bedroom to get her things.

“What a cunt,” Willam said loudly--loud enough that Bianca knew it was for her benefit. She chuckled to herself.

“Bill!” Courtney scolded, then added, “I like her.”

“Clearly. Why don’t you go make my bed?”

“Make your own bed, dickhead!” Courtney shrieked.

The shower was much needed. Bianca could feel the stress of the day literally rinsing away, muscles relaxing in the steamy water. When she re-entered her bedroom, Alaska was lounging on the bed, flipping through a magazine. She sat down at her desk, pulling over a light-up mirror.

She took her time blow-drying her hair. Even put on some makeup. No reason not to look nice for a relaxing afternoon of getting to know her roommates, right? She pulled on a casual summer dress and sandals and then began to put everything away in its spot...blow dryer in the stackable basket with her curling iron, makeup in the case, brushes in the cup.

She turned around to Alaska, who gave her a smile.

“I like your bins,” Alaska commented, gesturing to Bianca’s compulsively organized and labeled plastic bins, lined up under her bed and stacked on the dresser.

“Thanks. And I like your...uh…” Bianca surveyed the mess on Alaska’s side of the room before settling on the word, “...piles.”

Alaska let out a loud cackle. The most Bianca had seen her laugh yet. She grinned wryly.

“I’m a little bit messy, sorry,” Alaska said.

“It’s cool,” Bianca shrugged. “To each their own.”

“I’ll keep it contained, I swear. And on my side of the room.”

“You fucking better!” Bianca exclaimed, and was rewarded with another laugh from her roommate.

***

Courtney didn’t like to admit it, but she’d had a bit of a lonely summer. She’d decided with her parents that, since she wanted to come home for Christmas again this year, it made more sense for her to stay at school, taking a few classes and working at an internship.

It usually wasn’t hard for Courtney to make friends, but somehow, she hadn’t connected with anyone. Her classmates seemed lovely, and her coworkers were nice enough too, but she missed the late-night gossiping with Willam, the chance to let loose and be silly. The girls she attempted to hang out with over the summer just weren’t the kind of unpredictable fun that Willam was. And her summer roommate was a reclusive Belgian girl who spent all of her time buried in her laptop wearing headphones.

But today, she was thrilled. Willam was finally back, and even better, she had two new fantastically wonderful roommates.

Alaska was great. A little reserved, maybe, but that was alright with Courtney. She had a great sense of humor and a genuinely kind soul that Courtney adored right away. Plus, she seemed to get along really well with Willam, which was a relief. (Courtney loved her BFF, but she knew that getting her seal of approval could be difficult.)

And then there was Bianca. Blunt and a bit abrasive, but Courtney found herself thoroughly enchanted almost immediately, reveling in her sharp wit and acid tongue. Her dark, flashing eyes. She was unlike anyone Courtney had ever met before, truth be told.

As Courtney helped Willam stuff her clothes into the closet and dresser and arrange her shoes and bags under the bed, she sighed happily, grateful to be surrounded by people with whom she could really let down her hair.

It took ages before Willam was satisfied. Well, not so much satisfied as much as resigned to accept the confines of their limited space. She turned to Courtney with a sigh, saying, “Well, it is what it is, I guess.”

Courtney laughed and suggested that they check on the others, skipping happily over to Bianca and Alaska’s open door. She pushed it in further, asking, “How are you ladies doing? Bonding?”

“Oh yeah,” Bianca said, turning around in her desk chair, large curling iron in hand. “Our periods are already in sync.”

Alaska laughed, and Courtney was glad to see that some of her earlier tension had melted away.

“How disgustingly primal,” Willam said, collapsing on the bed next to Alaska, who moved over to give her space.

Courtney settled on the floor nearby. She watched as Bianca carefully styled her hair, admiring the color—a rich, reddish mahogany brown—and wondering how she got it so shiny.

“Is your room bigger than ours?” Willa asked, pulling Courtney out of her thoughts as she looked around suspiciously.

“I don’t know. Is it?” Bianca asked.

“Bill’s pretty pissed about the closet space,” Courtney explained. “I gave her one of my drawers, but…” She shrugged, pulling affectionately on one of Willam’s bare feet, “Some people are just never satisfied.”

“I have an extra drawer, too,” Alaska offered, and Bianca’s eyebrows shot up.

“You sure you don’t want to use that for some of the stuff that’s…” she gestured to the top of Alaska’s dresser.

Looking at their spaces, Courtney could see a clear clash of styles. Bianca’s things were almost obsessively organized, lined up in containers with p-touch labels. Alaska’s side of the room was more haphazard, similar to Courtney’s space.

“Nah, she can have it,” Alaska said with a sweet smile, and Bianca responded by sticking out her tongue briefly.

Courtney giggled, seeing them tease each other, happy that they already seemed to be friends. She relaxed against Alaska’s desk chair, finally content to just let the conversation drift as it were, taking a break from her usual Oprah mode.

“So...not to be a wet blanket on all this delightful female bonding, but...where can a bitch find some decent vegetarian food around here?” Bianca asked, putting away her hairstyling tools and turning around.

“You’re hungry?” Courtney looked up at her.

“No, just thought I’d buy some food and throw it at seagulls. Yes, I’m fucking hungry.”

Through Courtney’s immediate laughter, Willam muttered, “Decent shit is mostly downtown...but edible? There’s the cafeteria next door, the salad bar over by the biology building, food court in the quad, the-”

“No, Bill,” Courtney giggled out with a weak swat at Willam’s leg. “Let’s get something different. Something better.” She decided not to add ‘for Bianca.’

Willam rolled her eyes and huffed out, “Fine then, cunt. Where do you suggest we eat?”

There was a moment’s pause as Courtney pondered over the question before thoughtfully looking up at Bianca, asking, “Do you like burritos?”

“Wow. That’s racist.”

“No, it’s not because you’re--I didn’t mean--it’s just that they’re really good and you said-” Courtney tripped all over herself to explain, flustered, cheeks growing hot. Shit, she hoped she hadn’t been offensive.

After a beat, Bianca burst out laughing.

“I was kidding, calm down. Burritos sound good.”

“Courtney, are you talking about that hole in the wall on Fair Oaks? We’ll have to take a car.”

“It’s good, and they have tons of veggie options, and you love driving,” Courtney insisted. “Plus, everything on campus will be chockers right now.”

“‘Chockers’?!” Willam repeated. “That’s so Aussie!”

“Packed, full, whatever, you know I’m right.”

“Ugh. Alright,” Willam groaned, then asked, “Alaska? You in?”

“Uh, I’m not really all that hungry,” Alaska said. “You guys should go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m getting a little bit of a headache.”

“Oh no!” Courtney leapt to her feet. “Do you need something? I have magnesium supplements. Or, vitamin b-complex. That’s great for headaches!”

“Or, if you want something that actually works, I got Tylenol and Advil…” Bianca gestured to one of her boxes.

“I’ve got Vicodin,” Willam added. “And weed.”

“Thanks guys, but I think I just need to lay down for awhile.”

“Okay, we’ll leave you alone. Let us know if you want us to bring you back any food,” Courtney offered.

“Thanks.”

As the group trooped out of the room, Bianca grabbed her purse and then slung an arm around Courtney’s shoulder, asking, “Magnesium supplements?”

“My dad’s a doctor of alternative medicine,” Courtney giggled.

“Well, that tracks…”

***

By the time they perched on the rickety stools at the burrito place, Bianca was beyond starving. She dug into her food with a passion as Courtney resumed her questioning from earlier.

“Sooo,” she began, drawing out the word in that infuriatingly adorable Australian way, “You said that you transferred from Louisiana, right? What brings you out here?”

“Well, I’m majoring in marketing and international relations, and they have this scholarship that combines-”

“You’re an Ashford Scholar?!” Courtney exclaimed, eyes widening dramatically.

Bianca couldn’t help be a bit pleased with herself, happy that the prestigious scholarship was known even beyond the business school. Courtney was clearly impressed, and so she gave a small shrug of faux modesty.

“That’s amazing, that’s really...you know only 1 person a year gets that, right?” Courtney asked.

Bianca nodded and swallowed, then said, “Can’t wait to meet last year’s bitch. I assume they’re extraordinary too.”

Courtney giggled, resting her cheek on her hand. “So I guess that means you’re gonna have a lot of work to do. I heard those Ashford internships are seriously intense.”

“I’ll manage…”

Though her answer sounded nonchalant, she was enjoying Courtney’s obvious respect for her accomplishment. Her eyes practically glimmered in admiration.

“What about you, dollface?” Bianca asked. “What’s your major? Psychology?”

“No...although actually I did consider that!” Courtney said.

“Shocking.”

Courtney giggled, crunching down on a chip and saying, “I’m doing PoliSci.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Yeah…” she leaned in and stage whispered, “Your political system here is absolutely up the shit.”

Bianca laughed, not entirely familiar with that expression but getting the gist. She was about to agree when Willam interrupted her thoughts.

“That’s so Aussie!” Willam said, mouth muffled with food.

She assumed that was some kind of inside joke, but found herself unconcerned with being left out. What was more troubling was that until that moment, she’d temporarily forgotten that Willam was even there. She could already tell that it was a problem...how enchanting her new roommate was. Not to mention beautiful. The more Bianca looked into Courtney’s face, the more captivated she became. She cleared her throat, forcing her attention to Willam, who was working her way through a steak burrito bowl. Bianca nudged her foot.

“What’s your major, then?”

She expected a proud, boastful response but instead, there was just further silence. Conversation dropped dead for a few moments before Courtney chimed in softly with, “She doesn’t have a major yet...She’s still undeclared.”

“What?” Bianca exclaimed in amazement as a hint of pink rose to Willam’s cheeks despite her stony expression. “How can you still be undeclared? What year are you in?”

“Third,” Willam answered tensely, “And it's not that unusual. I just haven’t found the right thing yet, okay?”

If it wasn’t clear before that this was a touchy subject, the little huff at the end of her defense made it painfully obvious.

“Okay, well...cool.” Bianca grimaced awkwardly. Served her right for trying her hand at some Courtney-esque interview questions. She racked her brain for a lighter topic of conversation. “So...what do you guys...do for fun?”

“Shop,” Willam answered decisively.

“Oh! You know what we should do!” Courtney exclaimed brightly. “We should go to Cielo Plaza tomorrow!”

“What’s that?” Bianca asked, relieved that the subject change had worked.

“A mall,” Willam answered. “It’s no King of Prussia but there are a few good stores in there.”

Bianca wasn’t sure what the fuck “King of Prussia” was, but Courtney breezed right past it, happily pitching how great the activity would be.

“Yeah! And it’s so cute. We could have lunch, find some more decorations for the apartment, get some new clothes-”

“Should ask Alaska if she wants to come too,” Willam said, continuing to speak through mouthfuls of food.

“Of course!” Courtney enthused. “And then Saturday, we could go to the beach! Do you like the beach?”

Bianca did not like the beach. Sand in her asscrack was the last thing she wanted. But the idea of seeing Courtney in a bathing suit was pretty appealing…

“Love the beach,” she said with a smile.

“Great!” Courtney leaned back proudly.

“So, uh…what about nighttime fun?” Bianca’s eyes flickered unconsciously to Courtney’s glossy lips, the way her tongue toyed with the straw, before quickly adding, “Any good clubs?”

“We’re underage,” Courtney said sweetly.

“Oh, right.” Bianca turned to Willam. “Come on. I know you’ve got a fake ID. Where do you go?”

A secretive, almost mischievous smile spread across Willam’s lips as her eyes narrowed in on Bianca consideringly. There was a confident, daring tone in her voice as she responded with a simple, “Depends.”

Arching her brow, egging her on, Bianca shot back, “On?”

Willam’s smile grew just a little wider as answered, “On what your type of scene is.”

Fully catching onto the joke that had gone over Courtney’s head, Bianca sat back in her seat, arms crossed with an amused grin of her own and asked, “What do you think it is?”

There was a loaded pause as the two stared one another down. Courtney’s eyes darted back and forth in confusion, looking absolutely lost.

Finally, after what felt like a decade of waiting, Willam broke the silence of the group and replied almost smugly, “I think you'll be right at home in Sierra's.”

“Willam!” Courtney scolded harshly as she gave her friend a firm smack to the arm. Turning a bright shade of pink, she turned to Bianca and apologized, lowing her voice, “I'm sorry, that...that's a gay bar.”

The way her voice had dipped into such a low whisper had Bianca laughing on the spot. As soon as she managed to get ahold of herself, she inquired with amusement, “So? What’s wrong with gay bars?”

Stunned, Courtney blinked several times before finding her voice again. “Nothing! That’s not what I-it’s not that there’s anything wrong, she just shouldn’t assume...I mean, if you’re okay with it, then-”

“Well, it’s probably gonna be my best bet at getting laid,” came the nonchalant answer.

Looking rather pleased with herself, Willam piped back up for affirmation, “So you are...?”

Nodding her head, Bianca confirmed, “Mh-mm...And what about you? Casual observer or part of the family?”

“I mean...if that's what I'm in the mood for, yeah.”

“Makes sense,” Bianca quipped as her brow arched, “You do seem like the ‘take it anywhere you can get it’ type.”

The comment earned a loud laugh, one distinct enough to draw the attention of nearly everyone else in the shop. Despite the onlookers, Willam reassured her with a playful grin, “Trust me bitch, it’s not that hard to get it around here...”

“Sounds promising,” Bianca replied before turning back to Courtney, “You alright, dollface? You’ve been awfully quiet over here.”

Stumbling to collect herself, Courtney found herself mumbling, “Oh...um, no. I mean, yeah, I'm not-I mean-”

“Court is straight,” Willam said, saving her from stammering any longer.

“You don’t say,” Bianca said, trying to sound like she’d known all along. Secretly though, she was a bit surprised. She could have sworn that the blonde had been giving her vibes all day. Well...too bad. Karmic justice, indeed. With a sly sideways glance at her, Bianca clucked, “Pity.”

Snorting through her laughter, Willam shook her head and said, “Yeah, you wish, bitch. But that pussy’s a boys club.”

“Bill!” Courtney wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Bianca shook her head sadly, asking, “So...you’ve never even been eaten out by someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing down there?”

“Hey! Men can learn!” Courtney exclaimed defensively, then a tiny conspiratorial grin crept onto her face and she admitted, “I mean...hypothetically.”

Bianca burst into cackling laughter.

“Oh, you poor baby,” she cooed, still giggling, slipping an arm around Courtney’s shoulders. Courtney turned to her with a look of good-natured self-pity, lower lip puffed out, batting her lashes slowly for comedic effect.

The more Bianca thought about it, the more she realized that there was something a bit freeing about Courtney being straight. She was straight. There were lines that would never be crossed, ever. So it meant she was safe to flirt and have fun and it would never make her living situation complicated.

Win win, right?

Bianca looked into Courtney’s sparkling green eyes one last time before removing the arm from her shoulder, chuckles dying down.

***

Bianca suggested a stop at the grocery store on the way home, which Courtney realized was a great idea, since she had barely anything stocked, having chosen to eat most of her meals for the past few days in the cafeteria by their building.

Plus, she didn’t mind at all that they were extending their outing, finding Bianca to be both hilarious and fascinating. While Willam was occupied on her phone, Courtney hopped into the cart, beaming up at Bianca.

“Uh, I’m sorry, are your legs broken?” Bianca asked pointedly.

“Come on, please?! I wanna riiiiide,” she wheedled, and Bianca smirked at her.

“Oh, I can give you a ride.”

Courtney bit her lip, both hating and loving the way her stomach twisted every time she looked into Bianca’s brown eyes. It was thrilling, but also terrifying, like being on a rollercoaster--and Courtney loved rollercoasters. She was still a bit miffed at Willam for so adamantly proclaiming her straightness earlier, though she couldn’t really say why. It was true, of course, she was straight, but the way Willam said it so definitively was annoying, especially since she’d only just found out that Bianca was gay moments before.

All Courtney did know, for sure, was that she was having fun, so she decided just to enjoy herself and not stress about it.

They sped through the store, picking up pantry staples and some produce for the next couple of days, along with a few treats that Courtney insisted on...coconut water, dates, kale chips. Bianca pretended to be disgusted by all of it.

At one point, in the freezer aisle, Courtney found herself gazing up at Bianca, admiring again how thick and shiny her hair was. When Bianca leaned over the cart to toss in a package of frozen peas, Courtney reached up, fingering a lock gently.

“Is that your real hair color?” she asked.

“No,” Bianca said, “Not even close. Why, is that your real hair color?” She reached out, unceremoniously ruffling Courtney’s hair.

Courtney ducked and giggled, saying, “Almost! It’s...slightly enhanced.”

A wicked look passed across Bianca’s face as she said, “You know, there’s a way to check that.”

“Eyebrows?” Courtney asked, lashes fluttering innocently.

Bianca cackled gleefully, dark eyes dancing with joy, and said, “Yeah, eyebrows. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Courtney bit her lip, feeling a surge of pride at making someone as funny as Bianca laugh so hard.

They were almost to the check-out when an employee asked tiredly for her to please get out of the cart.

“Oh yeah, sorry!” she said, scrambling to get up.

“Need a hand?” Bianca asked.

“Thanks.” Courtney let Bianca help her out, one hand holding the cart steady and the other on her waist. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she jumped down and found herself chest to chest with Bianca, close enough to smell her perfume, which was lovely--warm and smoky. It made Courtney want to lean in closer...

“Let’s go!” Willam screeched, slamming the cart into their legs.

“Soz Bill!” Courtney snapped out of her daze and headed for the registers, making sure to snatch a few bars of dark chocolate on the way, chuckling slightly at Willam’s mumbled “that’s so Aussie.”

It was still early when they got back to the apartment, and Courtney was too riled up to sleep, so she suggested opening a bottle of the wine that Bianca bought. Alaska was dozing, so they left her in peace while the three of them sat around Courtney and Willam’s room and chatted for a few more hours. They shared stories about their childhoods and families, generally getting to know each other--at least until Bianca’s eyelids began to look heavy and they sent her off to bed.

As Courtney finally snuggled down into her comforter, lightly buzzed and perfectly content, her last thought was how lucky she was, how wonderful her roommates were, how life-changingly amazing this year promised to be.

#rpdr fanfiction #bitney #willaska #bianca del rio #courtney act #willam belli #alaska thunderfuck #college au #lesbian au #slow burn #kind of #friends to lovers #fluff #off limits #just friends #veronica #albatross

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somemellifluouswords · 6 years

Text

Patched Up Bonds

“ Can you do an ethan imagine where y��all are unofficial but everyone knows y’all are “taken” but yeah kinda angsty kinda fluffy please lol I love ur writing btw ! “

- Anonymous

Thank you for the request and your kind words! I love receiving requests because they’re all so different than what I tend to write typically. I changed what you might expect out of this idea, but I am more than ready to write something completely different than this. Hope you enjoy!

You smiled as you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home, unable to contain your excitement. First year of college was done and closed, and you were beyond thankful to be home for the Summer. The next four months of catching up with friends, getting together with your high school graduates, spending quality time with your family, and exploring parts of your hometown that had changed within the last year.

“There she is!” you mother beamed running down the porch steps.

“Here I am” you replied, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace.

“Let's get you inside”

Follow her through the house, you seated yourself onto one of the bar stools, making conversation about what your family was up to since the last time you spoke to them. You listened intently as your mother spoke, stopping only to hand you a glass of water, and absently played with the petals of the flowers she always bought every week to brighten up the kitchen.

“The Dolans are spending the Summer here too” she said suddenly out of the blue. You heart seemed to stop in your chest, your mouth dry despite the water you gulped down.

“Really?” you asked, biting your lip. Your mother nodded, smiling at you softly.

“They’ll be here by the end of this week. Said they needed a change from the hectic life of Los Angeles. And I don't blame them, it must be hard.” Nodding you began to tune her voice out, your thoughts wandering to how it had all changed a week before you left for college and he left for the glory of Los Angeles.

“Hun?” you shook your head, turning your attention back to your mother.

“Have you and Ethan spoke?” And she regretted it instantly, noting the way your eyes welled up, the heavy lump you swallowed back in your throat, and without another word she wrapped her arms around you.

Summer after high school was coming to an end. Your bags were packed, most of your drawers empty, hangers hanging idle in your closet. There was a heavy feeling in your stomach, the worry of leaving for the next few months, miles and miles away. You wouldn't be home until Christmas.

“Can you believe we’re leaving?” you laughed softly at his question, leaning further into his chest.

“I don’t want to, but I’m going to have to” you sighed.

“Ethan?” he took note of the way your voice sounded the slightest bit scared, distant, despite the face you say between his legs, perched in the treehouse you spent watching the stars in one Friday nights.

Tonight was your last Friday.

“Were going to be okay right?” you turned yourself around, sitting on your knees before him, tears welling up in your eyes. You leaned into his hand, as he gently carressed your cheek.

“Of course we are babe” and with that he pulled you into his chest.

The next day you woke up in your old bed, body warm against the old sheets. White with pink peonies.

Your eyes danced across your room. The walls were still the same violet as you had last seen them during Christmas break. The posters and pictures were still racked to the wall before you, desk neatly lined with all your supplies from high school. Your rose, leaning against the frame, eyes drifting off to your bedside table, reaching for the bracelet you always wore once upon a time ago, right before things fell apart.

The boys had packed everything. Literally everything. None of their clothing was left behind, most of their belongings already shipped to their new home in Los Angeles. You waited patiently by the mailbox, eating for the tall boy with the messy black hair, dark brown eyes, and heart wrenching smile.

Today was the day. Today was the day they were leaving. And you weren’t sure if you’d even see him in person, feel him, taste his lips until Christmas break.

And then there he was, making his way towards you, a sad look in his eyes.

You took a deep breath, shaking your hands out. “This is it” you said, mentally telling yourself to not let your voice crack.

Don’t cry. You’re going to hurt him. Be strong. You need to be for him. You’re happy for him.

And then his arms were around you, flushing your body to his. “I’m going to miss you so much” his own voice was weak.

After some time you finally pulled back, leaning on your tip toes to peck his lips.

The kiss was soft. Gentle and passionate. Sad and sweet. Bittersweet. You both had to taste one another, devour what the feeling felt like, move on with no idea when these lips would meet again.

“I’m going to miss you too”

You lifted the bracelet, feeling the weight of it in your limp hand. Just this once, you thought, unclasping it, wrapping it around your wrist. You forgot how perfectly it fit, like things had once long ago.

“I have something for you” he pulled himself away, your heart sinking as he stepped back. He pulled something silver out of his pocket, something sparkly.

“Your hand please” you raised your hand before him. Gingerly he wrapped the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall cold against your skin. You smiled, tears threatening to spill.

“Ethan” Grayson called from a distant, a sad smile on his face.

And then his lips met yours again, lingering yet again. “I love you so much alright, so much we’re going to make this work” And then he was backing away. “I’ll talk to you soon alright?” You could barely get out a goodbye, stomach sinking, and so you nodded simply.

As you watched the car drive away. drifting from your vision, you played with the bracelet around your wrist, clutching the silver “E” between your thumb and pointer finger.

Wiping away a stray tear, you pulled the bracelet off, letting it fall back onto your bedside table, as it once had months ago during Christmas break.

The week had seemed to rush by, greeting familiar faces, catching up over cups of coffee. You spent some time unpacking your suitcases, filling in the empty slots of your closet, trying not to think of how they’d be empty again in August.

And then the end of the week came. He was coming home.

You couldn't sleep the night before his arrival, wondering if you’d be able to face one another. Tossing and turning uncontrollably, your felt lost. You missed him. You missed him so much,

And frankly, even though he was a few houses down, like he’d always been since you were kids, you knew it would feel like he was miles and miles farther.

Phone calls, text messages, and face time calls. That was how you managed the first few months. But then came mid November, and you started to worry you were growing apart. You hadn't seen one another since the end of August, nor would your conflicting schedules allow you to visit one another.

Phone calls were cut short, not much said, and ending with what felt like false “I love you’s”. Text messages were always read with a tone of resent, annoyance. And every time you saw each other threw a screen the other looked empty.

Until one night, as you sat outside your dorm room, not wanting your room mate to wake up, you let out the tears you held back. You couldn't be strong for him. Because you weren't sure anymore if he was there.

“I thought we were going to make this work” you said into the phone, voice cracking.

You heard him sigh at the other end, could imagine him running a hand through his dark tendrils, squeezing his eyes shut.

“We will.” and with that he cut the phone, the dead line ringing in your ears.

And that's when you no longer understood in what position you both were anymore. You didn't talk much, barely, eventually not speaking any longer. You decided to check up on one another through text messages, unable to speak.

You both yearned to be together, but couldn't wrap your heads around exactly how. And breaking up seemed like the healthy choice, but you both refused to believe it wasn't a choice at all.

Because you didn't throw away a love that was promised to remain strong.

So as December rolled around, and you packed your suitcase to go home fro the break, you imagined what you'd say to him. You imagined you'd run into his arms, kiss him hard, and never want to let go.

It didn't quite happen that way.

“Maybe you should at least go say hello to the boys hun. You’ve been friends since you were children, and what you and Ethan had was special.” Your head shot up from your book, turning to face your mother as you sat on the porch swing.

“Have, mom. Have” and you turned back to your book, eyes boring into the pages.

“You won't know unless you try” her voice was soft, apologetic.

You knew she was right.

The sun was setting as you walked through the green grass, eyes stealing glances as you passed the Dolan household, afraid to see him outside or on his porch. But no one was out, and you sighed in relief as you passed by.

The treehouse was still there, in the big oak tree at the very end of the neighborhood. The treehouse you spent hours in playing, every day after school at 4:00PM when Ethan would come pounding at your front door, arms brushing as your walked to the ancient artifact.

You made your way up, carefully, afraid you might fall. When you were kids and teenagers, he always let you climb first, telling you he was right behind you, to catch you if you ever fell.

Where was he now?

“You made it!” you smiled as you entered the house, warm engulfing your freezing body. You wrapped your arms around old high school friends, all who you hadn't seen for some time.

Despite how great it felt to see everyone, you only had eyes searching for him.

“How’s your star quarterback?” someone teased as you pulled your coat off.

Not sure, you thought to yourself. “He’s well” you lied, inching away.

You knew he’d be here. He had to be.

You moved through the happy bodies dancing to old Christmas classic songs, smiling at the cheerleaders who you once associated with, most of them no longer with their football boyfriends. You were always the shy and quiet girlfriend from the team, the ordinary girl who wasn't a cheerleader. And like the others you always wondered how the star quarterback fell for his shy best friend.

You wondered where you went wrong as your fingers trailed over your old toys, eyes welling up at the corsage from senior prom that hung on the wall, fingers tracing the initials he’d carved in with a bobby pin from your hair that night.

You heard something, or better yet someone coming up, and you froze, turning around, leaning against the wall, breathing hitched.

Leaning against the wall, having lost your friend as she stepped into a game of spin the bottle, you watched the front door, carefully observing everyone walking in, even though you could spot him from afar in a heart beat.

And then suddenly time froze. The music seemed to stop. The loud voices were a mute. You thought your body was shaking, your mouth went dry, your heart pounded hard against your chest.

His eyes caught yours, softening, smile fading, ignoring his old team mates as he froze. And then he was walking towards you, not breaking his eyes on you.

And you couldn't. You told yourself stay, but you couldn't. So you turned, rushing up the flight of stairs you had no idea leading where, stopping as you closed yourself off at the end of the hallway, tears streaming down your face, tucking the bracelet he’d given you under your sleeve.

You didn't imagine him to have gotten taller than the last time you saw him. You didn't think he’d let his scruff grow out more than what he did now. He was broader, more muscular, but his eyes were just as beautiful, hair just as dark.

You felt your knees go weak, letting the tears slip through, not bothering to tuck your bracelet under your sleeve, because it was no longer there. It hadn't been for some time.

You heard your name being called, his voice foreign.

Your name fell from his lips, soft and hurtful, voice foreign.

You didn't dare to look up as he leaned against the wall from you, dying to hold you close and kiss you, hear your voice, take away the pain he’d caused. He gingerly took a step, curing at himself mentally as you flinched. When his hands slowly cupped your tear stained cheeks, your heart fluttering at the familiar feeling of his calloused skin.

“I’m so sorry” he mumbled, pulling you close. And when you didn't fight, letting him pull you into his chest, wrapping your arms around him, he knew you sill had something. The need for one another was still there.

“I didn't know you were here” you wanted to scream at him, cry at him, ask him why

“I needed to clear my head about something” your voice was soft, and he closed his eyes, taking a step closer to you, realizing how much he had truly missed you.

“Ethan” you said, letting out a sob. “Why do we do this every time?” his palms rested agsint the wall, surrounding you. He gulped, eyes pained, clenching his jaw.

“I don't know, I don't know” he whispered sadly.

When the back of your head gently hit the wall, the music was drowned out, the only feeling of his lips against your mattered. You tugged at his shirt, pulling him flush. His hands rested against the wall, breaking contact with your lips only to mutter apologies and mumble the three words you were desperate to hear.

After he drove you home that night, kissing you again, telling you that you both deserved a second chance, you spent most of your break together, catching up. Falling in love all over again, even though you already were. And it felt just like it had before.

But the night you left for college again, you slipped the bracelet off your wrist, worried at the back of your head for another episode of what was to come when you departed from one another, another four months gone by without seeing each other.

And it did, but the unbreakable bond compelled you to convince yourselves you were still together.

“We can't keep doing this.”

“I know” he replied, your heart sinking.

“Is it bad I want to though?” he asked, letting a tear of his own slip.

And with that you fell into his chest, letting him hold you close, begging him to never let go.

Something changed that night. Something changed from then on. Because as you packed your bags at the end of Summer and he packed his, things would be different.

Because he’d been dangerously close to losing you, and you him.

Because he drove you to the airport the night you left for college, kissing you hard, and watching you walk away, and when you turned back and smiled, bracelet hanging off your wrist, a smile on your face, he knew.

Your bond had been patched up. Losing you forever was his biggest fear. And he’d learned that the hard way.

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #ethan dolan blurb #dolan twins blurb #asks #blurb #requests

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spookykingdomstarlight · 6 years

Text

palimpsests, 1653 words

Treat created from a prompt from the @jedifest December Drabble List for Ben(Kylo)/Poe, “droids”

Poe made it his mission to stay as far from the hangar as possible when he wasn’t on duty—a new experience for him, to be sure, but one that was better than accidentally running into Ben Solo when he wasn’t prepared for it. Everywhere else on the base, fine, he allowed himself to expect the worst, but on his home turf, he hadn’t yet learned to allow the man who had been Kylo Ren share the space. Of course, that was also the one place he always seemed to want to be, not all that surprising given his heritage, but annoying all the same.

Especially at times when Poe couldn’t help but go there. Like when he’d looked everywhere else on the base and still couldn’t find BB-8.

It used to be he’d let the droid roam about unsupervised, trusting that BB-8 wouldn’t get himself into too much trouble. As this war dragged on, though, Poe couldn’t help but get a little tetchy when he hadn’t seen his closest companion in too long. The same applied to Finn, Rey, Rose, and even General Organa. A part of him was always on the lookout for danger, expecting First Order drop ships to fall from the sky to disrupt what little peace they could carve out of the mountain they’d finally settled on after—

After…

The point was: Poe liked to keep tabs on his people. And his people included BB-8.

Sure, Poe could have commed to find out where he was. But he hadn’t. He liked surveying the base, taking in all the little ways it was still the same, still peaceful, still protected against invasion, still in continuity with what came before. Even on a different planet, even after everything, there were touches that Poe recalled from D’Qar, from Mirrin Prime, from every military instillation he’d ever served on.

So it was his own fault really when he—almost literally—stumbled across Ben Solo as he strode his way into the hangar bay, his boots striking the duracrete with a finality that brooked no argument. This was his place; he owned it; he’d earned it. That said, it shouldn’t have been easy to stumble over Ben; he was a large man and broad at that, but he’d managed to kneel behind a few stacked cargo containers at the exact same moment that Poe decided to round those selfsame containers and—

Bweeeeip whooooooaaaaooooo.

The toe of Poe’s boot didn’t strike Ben, though he wished it had once he connected the dull clanking sound he heard with the realization that he’d kicked BB-8 instead. Eyes widening, he stumbled back and pushed his hand through his hair. A lot of questions ran through his head at that moment and there wasn’t a single one of them that was likely to get him a satisfying answer. “What the hell?” he settled on, because it encompassed the vast majority of his feelings at the moment. “Seriously? You, too.”

Everyone else seemed to have less of a problem with Ben being on the base than Poe did. Even Finn, who had more reason than most to distrust his presence.

Anyway. ‘You, too,’ maybe wasn’t the most diplomatic thing he could have said, but Poe was still working on it, and chose to double down by glaring at BB-8, who rocked back and forth and bleated at Poe about how Poe should watch where he was going. He very pointedly did not dart his gaze to Ben, who already filled too much space in Poe’s peripheral vision. Somehow, Poe saw his hands twitching in his lap, pale against the dark tunic and pants he wore, and cursed himself for the acuity of his vision. It made him an excellent pilot, sure, but it could be damned uncomfortable when it wanted to be.

It wasn’t in Poe’s best interest to witness Ben’s indecisiveness, his new-found… humility up close. If that was even what he could call it. It did funny things to Poe’s insides: made him angry one minute—how nice for Ben to throw himself on the Rebellion’s mercy and walk around free for it—and even angrier the next—how dare he show himself to be more than the traitor he’d wanted them all to believe he was. Better to avoid him all together and not have to face that complicated tangle of emotions.

He so very much wanted to let it all go and accept Ben’s return as the hopeful event that it truly was. Or at least celebrate it as the practical victory it was.

Because the loss of Kylo Ren from the First Order could be measured even on the battlefield, not even Poe could deny that. There were squadrons of pilots who could legitimately say they were alive because of intel from Ben or because the First Order’s fleets were so disorganized with the various losses they’ve taken since Ben’s departure or simply because Ben could help Poe—always from afar, of course, Poe wouldn’t grace Ben’s sessions with his presence unless he had to—train them in how to counter every First Order flying technique out there.

They wouldn’t win the war because of Ben Solo’s contributions to the fight, but they were stronger for his turn away from the dark. Even Poe could acknowledge that. At least in his mind. Not that it helped him any place else.

Poe sighed and crouched down to BB-8’s level. “Not a scratch on you,” he said, running his fingers over the surface of BB-8’s chassis. The hard dips and ridges of it were so familiar to Poe that he would have known immediately if he had managed to hurt BB-8. “Still look as good as ever, bud. Sorry about the kick.” At least that much he could say was true. A tinge of pointless, directionless guilt trickled through him; he hadn’t really meant to kick BB-8.

It was at that moment that he noticed… “Where’s your scar?” His thumb rubbed over a section of BB-8’s domed head. It wasn’t really a scar, just a persistent bit of carbon scoring that neither Poe nor BB-8 had really had the time to scour away and smooth over with a layer of epoxy and the quick-drying paint they used. Since it looked cool, they’d let it be, but a part of Poe always felt a little hint of regret at not having better kept up on BB-8’s repairs of late.

Ben shifted slightly. Just enough that Poe could see a little tray at his side. This time, Poe did let himself look and noticed a scrub brush as well as an airbrush tipped with white, gleaming paint. “You probably ought to clean that nozzle before it dries,” he said, well aware of how much of a pain it could be to dislodge the specially prepped astromech paint from the airbrush pens.

“Yeah,” Ben answered, dry. “Good point.”

When Poe finally looked at him, there was a self-deprecating smiling curling at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t the worst look a guy like Ben could wear. In fact, it suited him to a far greater degree than Poe entirely wanted to accept was possible. Poe always had liked the self-aware sort, the guys who could mock themselves as easily as they mocked others; he just hadn’t thought Ben might be one of them. Kylo—and for whatever reason Poe thought of them as separate people now, had to, in a way, to make this all work for him—hadn’t exactly struck him as the sort to have a sense of humor about himself. “You’ve repaired droids before,” Poe answered. His family could get sentimental about droids, it shouldn’t have been that surprising. “Of course you have.”

Ben shrugged his shoulders and was the first to look away, a first for him in Poe’s experience. There might have been a blush forming on his cheeks, very slight, enough so that Poe couldn’t tell for certain from the shadows that fell across his face that a blush was even what it was. He hoped it wasn’t. Blushing would… be very weird. Not at all what Poe would want or expect from Ben Solo. Not at all the sort of thing that would be intriguing. ”It’s nothing,” Ben said, obliterating the moment—something for which Poe couldn’t be more grateful.

Before Poe could argue otherwise, BB-8 bleeped and rolled toward Ben’s leg, bumping repeatedly against his knee.

Ben cleared his throat and patted the top of BB-8’s head rather awkwardly, not bothering to look at him either. “You’re, uh, welcome, Beebee-ate.”

“Thanks, Ben,” Poe said. It was the first time he’d ever said Ben’s name out loud. Somehow, he’d always managed to avoid speaking it, settling instead for using his surname when he had to. Refusing to be self-conscious about it, he lifted his chin. If BB-8, who’d also had a bit of a grudge against Ben when he first arrived, could get over himself a bit, so could Poe. “I appreciate it, too.”

He held out his hand and Ben immediately reached back.

It was the start of something. And not the thing Poe expected, no, the arguments and fights that had always gathered themselves in the back of his throat, ready to be loosed. No, this was something else altogether.

Something that could get Poe into a whole lot of different kinds of trouble.

Poe was finding himself more okay with that kind of trouble than he’d expected. Maybe… maybe they could get to be more to one another than Poe had allowed himself to be. He would so love to let his distrust go.

“I was looking for BB-8 to get him his evening charge,” Poe explained. “You maybe want to catch some dinner, too?”

Ben’s eyes widened, but he nodded and dusted himself off, recovering from his surprise quickly enough.

This, Poe thought, might possibly be fun.

#decemberdrabbleprompt #jedifest #star wars #darkpilot #benpoe #kylo ren #poe dameron #bb-8 #starlight writing

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tinalostgirl · 4 years

Text

Old Tina/Cookie things @subbysterling

Cookie made her way to Tina’s room as soon as she was dressed and made sure she looked extra cute with a pink tinted lipgloss and a sundress that made all the right curves stand out. She was excited to meet someone like Tina, pretty, charming, sweet, and who had different views than her all together. Knocking a few times on beat to a song only she could hear she waited for the girl to answer.

Tina

After her run in with the Domme from hell and a pending punishment, Tina was looking forward to just hanging out with the new cutie on campus. She caught Tina's eye instantly and when compliments were exchanged, and plans were made, Tina was looking forward to meeting her in person. So much so that it was pretty much all she could focus on when she woke up on Sunday. Tina kept checking the time and was already jumping up from her bed and headed to the door when she heard the first knock. Tina's smile was spread from cheek to cheek when she got her first look at Cookie. Sweet indeed. "Hey there, gorgeous. You can come in if you want. Or we could go walk around campus or something? Your call."

When Cookie saw Tina in person she couldn’t contain her grin. A blush spread to her cheeks at the compliment and she shrugged a bit. “I’m down for whatever, I do wanna talk so maybe... We go inside and uh maybe order lunch or a snack or something? Get to know each other that way? Or a walk is good! Whatever you want.” Cookie didn’t think herself easily flustered, but something about Tina just got to her.

Tina

Tina couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She reached up, tucking Cookie’s her back behind her ear. “Yeah okay, that sounds like a plan,” she replied with a nod and a smile before grabbing Cookie in by the hand and shutting the door behind her. “My roomie is doing her trial claim so I’ve pretty much had the room to myself. And I already had pizza on its way, you like pizza right?” Tina plopped down into the couch, patting the seat next to her.August 31, 2020

Cookie blushed even harder as Tina's hand brushed her cheek as she moved some hair away from her face. Her smile remained but she couldn't keep her eyes on the other girl so she looked a way for a moment to just gather herself. She felt the other girl take her hand and she got tugged into Tina's room, "Oh that sounds kinda nice, not that I don't like sharing with Santana but I do miss like... Alone time ya know? Oh, also yes I love pizza so great choice.” She paused for moment, trying to gauge just how close to sit. She wanted to be friendly, open for anything, but she didn’t wanna come on to strong... She ended up not taking her own advice, and sitting flush enough to the other submissive that their shoulders and legs pressed together. “So, tell me all about you, I wanna know everything pretty girl.”

Tina

Tina couldn't help herself from instantly falling for this girl. The way she looked away and the blush on her cheeks had Tina instantly captivated. "Yeah, I like having a roomie, but it is nice to get some alone time. I can walk around naked and not have to worry about making anyone uncomfortable." She smiled and wrapped her arm around Cookie as she sat down next to her, loving the way she felt pressed up against her. "That's such a broad question. I'm ADHD, you gotta focus in for me." Tina said it with a laugh but she only halfway kidding. "I'm from Seattle. I'm a full blown lesbian. And I hate the system. Your turn."

Cookie made herself comfortable as Tina wrapped an arm around her and only grinned at the thought of the other girl walking around naked. “I mean if you in the nude makes someone uncomfortable I don’t think they’re looking properly.” She teased before biting her lip and upon hearing Tina mention Seattle perk up immediately. “Oh Im from there too!! That’s so crazy, but uhm.. I’m bisexual, and... I thought I knew what I wanted out of life but suddenly I’m very confused, but I think that’s okay you know? I like having to find answers.. Oh! I also like puzzles like genuinely any kinda puzzle is fun.”

Tina

"Yeah?" Tina raised her eyebrow and saved the dirty thought that crossed her mind for later. It was clear there was attraction between the two of them, but even Tina understood there was a proper time. "Really? How the hell have we not ran into each other before? This is crazy." Tina knew she liked this girl for a reason. She felt like she was hit with a breath of fresh air, a little breeze from home. "I miss it like crazy and I can't wait to go back." Making a face, she scooped up Cookie's legs and draped them over her lap. "I don't like being confused or trying to figure things out. I like it when things are laid out for me. But that's never been my life. Grass is always greener or something like that." "Yeah? I guess I'm kinda like a puzzle. Wanna put me together?" It was corny and Tina laughed at herself instantly, even snorted. "Sorry, you left that wide open. I had to go there."

"Mhmm, I said what I said." She grinned, and she let her eyes lock with Tina's for a moment. The tension was there, you could almost touch it in the air it was so thick, but... They could explore it later, for now just this was enough. "I mean Seattle is a big place, but you do have a point... I bet we were like ships passing in the night or whatever ya know?" She let herself be pulled closer to the girl, skin now touching skin and she moved closer of course just because she needed to get more comfortable. Not for any other reason. "Yeah I wanna move back whenever my time here is done." Cookie her chin in her hand as Tina talked not wanting interrupt her at all. "I mean having things laid out is nice, but... The satisfaction of finding all the right pieces and making it all make sense is... Unreal." Cookie snorted a laugh as well, before tilting her head back and laughing even more before shaking her head. "I mean you know what.. That's fair I shouldn't be shocked. Though.. I wouldn't mind putting you together." She gave the girl a little wink and waggle of her eyebrows before giggling at her own ridiculousness. "C'mon there's gotta be more to know about you, gorgeous."

Tina

"Ships passing in the night, I really like that." She smiled as her mind went to literal ships passing each other in the night. Tina's would be all moody and emo and all tatted up. And Cookie's would be light and majestic. With silky sails and perfectly lit in the moonlight. "I mean, I'm a singer? I really wanna be on Broadway one day. I have two moms." Tina lifted the sleeves of her shirt to show off the sleeve tattoos on both arms. "As you can see I love tattoos. I also love junk food and I'm a complete mess, but I get through most days okay." Tina was satisfied with the small rant about herself but soon turned her gaze intently on the other girl. "Okay, your turn. How many random facts can YOU give me in one breath?"

Cookie smiled as she listened to Tina talk, and she realized very quickly she could listen to Tina talk all day if she let herself, all night if she kept talking. But she showed off her tattoos and she looked them over with interest as she continued to listen before she felt Tina's gaze on her. "Oh.. Well alright uhm, I grew up in a fairly big family but I was always closest to my mom, winter is my favorite time of year not because of Christmas though, I mean I do love Christmas but I just.. Love how things look after a fresh snow fall. The crispness of it all, the sort of peaceful silence that feels like it takes over the whole world.. And it's just so pretty. And I'm not really sure what I wanna do with my life, I always kind of.. Assumed I'd be claimed and if I wanted to work or figure out something to do I would but like.. Later." She gave a shrug and took a breath after all the words she spoke, she waited holding a breath for Tina to respond afraid it wasn't enough.

Tina

Tina listened intently, even turning her body to face Cookie better and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. There were moments of being unfocused where she played with her hair or glanced down to look at her lips, but she heard everything she said and she was falling more and more into the trap that was Chloe Sterling. “I love that you love Winter and I can’t wait to go ice skating with you. And to snuggle up in front of the fire with you.” Tina pulled her in closer. “If you could be anything in the world career wise, without thinking about the system or our world that will most likely hold you back, what would you choose. One two three - go!”

#cookie #para: cookie #( i wanna be consumed by you )

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writesandramblings · 6 years

Text

The Captain’s Secret - p.74

“Now Darkness Falls”

A/N: Takes place during episode 10, "Despite Yourself." I apologize to those of you who have not seen the entire show but are reading this. (There’s 2-4 of you out there, I know.) This may feel like having the rug pulled out from under you. Those of you who have watched the show may also feel the same about certain details. All I can say is, I don't take the trust you've placed in me by reading this far lightly, and while we are absolutely nearing the end, the story is far from over. The things you seek, they shall be found.

The last scene in this chapter was one that was written months—months!—ago that I was desperately trying to reach before the show did the reveal. If you had told me it would take this long to get here... I still wouldn't change a word. It turns out, all these words are important.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 73 - Where Once Was Light 75 - The Truth Must Out >>

They had suffered minor structural damage but Discovery was intact, all decks and departments reporting. Lorca rose from the captain's chair and approached the flickering display of the viewscreen. The stars beyond were beautiful specks of light floating in a sea of black tinged with clouds of blue and purple interstellar gases. Between Discovery and the distant stars lay a field of ship debris.

"Mr. Saru?" demanded Lorca. "What am I looking at?"

Saru shook his head, not understanding. "I, uh, I'm not quite sure. I'm unable to confirm our position using standard procedures. Sensors are going haywire!"

"Where is our starbase?" mused Lorca.

"Not where it should be," managed Saru.

The ship debris around them was Klingon, but the hull densities were wrong. Saru reported the navigational array was malfunctioning. They appeared to be at their intended coordinates based on stellar cartography, but nothing else was where it should have been. The spore drive was offline because its navigator was presently laying on the floor of the engineering bay, unresponsive.

A Vulcan cruiser appeared on their sensors. Rather than answer their hails, it fired on them, raising even more questions. As the Vulcans came about for a second strafing run, Discovery prepared to fire in response, but another volley of fire smashed against the Vulcan's hull from the side. It was another ship, the Cooper, and another mystery: the Cooper was supposed to be undergoing a refit after sustaining crippling damage in a battle three days earlier.

The voice on the other end of the communication channel was unfamiliar. "Spooked by rebels, Discovery? You're losing your edge. Don't worry, we'll take care of them. Cooper out."

"Vulcan rebels?" asked Burnham, verbalizing the question on the minds of the bridge crew. "Firing on Starfleet?"

"I may have something," said Saru at last. "The quantum signature of the Cooper, as well as that of the Vulcan cruiser, are inconsistent with ours."

"That's not possible," said Burnham. "All matter native to our universe resonates with the same quantum signature, nothing can change it."

"That's true," said Lorca. "Unless..." He paced towards the viewscreen, turning to address the whole of the bridge. "...This is not our universe."

"That is not possible," said Burnham again, but her protest fell far short the second time around.

He brought Saru and Burnham into his ready room and presented them with the original finished map and the proposition of a parallel universe. Burnham quickly realized the significance and summarized the mycelial network as it truly was: "A vast system underpinning all quantum realities."

"But the exact coordinates of some of the more esoteric destinations eluded us," said Lorca. "Apparently the hundred and thirty-three jumps we made filled in the gaps."

"An extraordinarily fortunate coincidence," said Saru, in a way that suggested he had a glimmer of something beyond coincidence.

"I'd say unfortunate, wouldn't you, number one?" asked Lorca sharply.

Burnham immediately realized they were not going to be able to deliver the cloak-breaking algorithm Starfleet was waiting for.

"That's why we have to make it back," said Lorca. "Otherwise the war's as good as lost."

"Well, Stamets, brought us here accidentally, so we should examine the spore drive's navigational logs more closely—"

"I just pushed Stamets too hard, the number of jumps scrambled his ability to hold the coordinates for Starbase 46 in his head," explained Lorca. "Now what we need to do is understand where we are and how to survive, and then we'll find a way home." He looked at Burnham and Saru, a silent plea in his eyes. "Recalibrate the sensors and you start looking at the records, see if there's something we can learn."

"Yes, captain," said Burnham.

Saru and Burnham hastened to carry out his orders and Lorca checked the Lab 26 security feed. Empty, but the computer said Mischkelovitz was in there. She had probably startled at the jump gone awry and hidden herself in the wall. "Lorca to Mischkelovitz." There was no answer. He looked at the communications display. The channel was open. "You there?"

"Yes," came the tentative answer.

Lorca's tone was grave but calm and patient. "Mischka, we have a problem."

"That jump wasn't right," she said.

"No, it was not. The coordinates of that universe we were going to use as proof? Somehow they overwrote the default coordinates."

He heard the faintest whimper. "Then..."

"Either I did something wrong when I encrypted it, or..." A pause, then a dramatic and portentous inhalation. "Whatever you did to get those coordinates so quickly."

She gasped and covered her mouth. One tiny slip-up with the computer and it was entirely possible she had done just that. She could certainly believe it. If anyone found out how she had gotten those coordinates...

Lorca suspected there were tears on her face. In the same even, reassuring tone he had been employing since this call began, he said, "Don't worry. I overwrote the coordinate system with the original settings. No one will ever find out it was you. I'll take the blame before I let that happen."

"Thank you, captain," she said in a tiny, delicate voice. Lorca smiled faintly at the empty air.

"We'll get through this, Mischka. Don't you worry. One step at a time."

He closed the channel and glanced at the bowl of fortune cookies, pulling one out. You are careful and systematic in your business arrangements. Whether or not it was a proper fortune was up for debate, but there was no doubting the fact it was true. He looked out the ready room window at the stars. Cornwell and Terral were a universe away and he still had the view.

They found a data core in the debris field surrounded by the bodies of Klingons, Vulcans, and Andorians. All three species had apparently been together on the Klingons' destroyed ship. The reason soon became clear. In this universe, there was no Starfleet. There was no United Federation of Planets. The whole of the known galaxy was controlled by a single entity, and there were only two key forces at play within it: humans, and everyone else.

It was called the Terran Empire. There were a thousand worlds and species subjugated under its rule. It was the antithesis of the Federation in every way. Xenophobic, warlike, oppressive. An entire galactic culture based on the unconditional hatred and rejection of anything non-human. At its center ruled a nameless, faceless emperor with an unparalleled reputation for savagery. Against this fascist, monopolistic threat, a handful of alien races fought in a feeble but enduring rebellion.

The data core contained a vast quantity of stolen caches of information on the Terrans: their weapons, their power, their personnel. Personnel that had the same names and faces as people aboard Discover. It proved conclusively they were in an alternate version of their universe—one where they could literally meet an alternate version of themselves. It was like gazing through a dark mirror.

As Lorca listened to this summation, he marveled at how foreign it felt. "No way we're asking these neighbors for a cup of sugar," he quipped.

Then the Cooper returned from its hunt and hailed them again, sending the bridge into a small frenzy as they tried to figure out exactly how to respond. "What intel do we have!" Lorca demanded. They had only just begun to brush the surface of the data in that core.

Saru hastily provided a key point of information: "The rebel logs show their ships being attacked by a vessel with a warp signature matching our Discovery, but a quantum signature matching this universe. That signature seems to have vanished at the same coordinates where we popped in. It is possible we switched places with their Discovery."

"I'm gonna run with Mr. Saru's theory and hope that we don't run into ourselves and blow our cover," announced Lorca. Burnham quickly modified their ship's signature with the deflector to match the signature of the Discovery that was supposed to be in this region of space.

This took precious time. The Cooper began to get impatient. "They're saying if we don't respond that we should prepare to be fired on," reported Bryce at the comms.

"Open a channel, audio only," said Lorca.

"Belay that," said Burnham. "I'm sorry, but you can't take it, sir. I'm examining the crew manifest of mirror Discovery, you're not its captain."

"Who is?" asked Lorca.

Burnham put the image up on the main viewscreen. It was Sylvia Tilly. Not as they knew her, with the frizzy red hair and the quick smile. Clad in golden armor and with straight, blonde hair. Her image stared across the bridge with a ferocious intensity.

"Uh, that's me," said Tilly helpfully. "That's me!" And yet, in almost every way that counted, it clearly was not.

"That's absurd," said Lorca, summing up this turn of events perfectly. "Cadet, looks like you're taking this." He spun the captain's chair towards Tilly.

"Uh, wh... uh, wh-what—what do I say?" stammered Tilly as she sat down, immediately panicking.

There was no way Tilly was doing this without help. Lorca fixed his full attention on her with an intensity that drew her attention to him in kind. Despite his annoyance at this turn of events, he was calm and firm as he instructed her on what to do. "You just get rid of them as fast as possible and you talk as little as possible."

Tilly looked up at him from the chair fearfully. "That—that might be a little hard. Have you noticed that I talk a lot?"

"Defy your every instinct," said Lorca.

They opened the channel.

For a moment, Tilly just looked around the bridge. Then: "Hello, this is Captain Tilly. What the heck—h-hell? Hold your horses!" She looked at Lorca apologetically.

"Why the delay in responding, Discovery?" asked the Cooper.

"I was..." Tilly kept her eyes focused on Lorca. He tried signaling her, mouthing at her. "...Indisposed."

Everything that was coming out of her mouth was wrong. Lorca marveled at it as much as he scowled.

"Any reason you're still hanging around?" asked the Cooper.

"We're experiencing mechanical issues," managed Tilly. Lorca nodded at her in encouragement.

"Need a hand? We're not far."

Lorca signaled her as clearly as he could without making a sound: No! But Tilly was flustered and did not answer quickly enough to stave off the Cooper's next question:

"And why are you not on screen!?"

"M-Mechanical issues?" she asked, and looked pleadingly at Lorca. "Here's my chief engineer."

Burnham rushed over and touched Lorca's back. "I don't know who you are over here just yet," she warned, "so conceal your voice just in case."

It was hard to be too angry at Tilly for failing to come across as a captain because Lorca made a lousy engineer. "How you doing, captain?" Lorca asked, finding himself mimicking a Scottish accent. "Everything's squared away here. We've got, uh, wee bit of trouble with our visual emitters and the starboard nacelle, but a bit of tweaking, we'll be good to go, all right?"

Despite the fact this was the worst engineering jargon possible since the beginning of time, the captain of the Cooper apparently knew as much about engineering as Lorca did. It worked.

"Happy hunting. Long live the Empire!"

Lorca mouthed at Tilly: Long live!

"Long live the Empire!" blurted Tilly. Lorca reached over and closed the comm via the armrest console.

"Good," he said simply, forgiving even, though that had been almost entirely awful. It took Tilly a moment, but she got out of his chair. Lorca addressed the bridge. "Next time, we might not get away with audio only. If we want to live to get back home, we have to make it so we look and act like we belong here. Mr. Saru, while we get up to speed with this universe, see to it that this ship, its crew, it's captain"—he looked at Tilly—"are prepared."

"Yes, sir," said Saru.

Lorca looked at Tilly and only Tilly. "I mean fully prepared."

Tilly still looked startled as a deer in the headlights, but now that they all knew what they were walking into, next time would go better. It had to. This was not the sort of universe that would easily forgive mistakes.

Burnham was assigned the task of unraveling everyone's mirror identities from the files in the data core. It was not necessary for her to brief every member of the crew directly, but some figures were of key note in this universe and merited personal attention. She found herself standing in the hallway before the assembled personnel of Lab 26: O'Malley, Mischkelovitz, Groves, Larsson, and Allan. "Colonel O'Malley. You are an interrogator in the service of the Emperor," she announced, transferring the details of O'Malley's mirror identity to his padd.

"Whizz-bang," said O'Malley, annoyed as he skimmed the top of the file. He doubted "interrogator" entailed the same methodology he applied in their universe. One thing was for certain: his mirror counterpart had just as many freckles. The other O'Malley looked grim and intimidating in his black uniform in the file photo. As much as O'Malley knew it was his own face, he had real trouble recognizing it.

Burnham turned to go. "What about us?" asked Groves.

"I'm only delivering priority one identity information," said Burnham. This was the designation they had given to "people they might encounter who held substantial Terran rank or played a significant role in Terran government."

"Really?" said Groves. The word could have been pejorative, but coming from Groves, it sounded more mildly bored than anything else. "After all those games of chess we played, this is the thanks I get?"

That gave Burnham pause. "You're Rove," she realized.

"In the flesh," said Groves. "Which is why I find it hard to believe that I'm not a priority one person." O'Malley rolled his eyes at that, but since everyone was facing Burnham, she was the only one who saw it.

Burnham glanced at the padd in her hand. "Lieutenant Larsson, you were aboard the Buran when it was destroyed in this universe."

Larsson barely reacted. "Ah," he said, as if this were no particular surprise. "We must not have met the lului, so I never wrote my book. Then I would have been on the Buran." It was strange to think that this held true in their universe as well: if they had not met the lului, he would have died on the Buran there, too.

Burnham wondered what "the lului" were, but she had enough mysteries on her plate for the moment. "Unfortunately, I was unable to—"

Groves pointed to himself, then Mischkelovitz. "John Francis Narvic, Emellia Petrellovitz." He spelled the surnames for her.

Burnham checked again. She found them both in the same file. "John Narvic died in 2238 at a research colony in the Mizar sector called 'Qorya.'" She mispronounced it, as people did when seeing the word for the first time.

"Damn," said Groves. "Really? Afterlife fist bump?" He offered a fist to Larsson. Larsson only glowered at him. They were roommates, not friends.

Burnham turned to Mischkelovitz and addressed her with an entirely more measured approach. "Doctor, you were... senior science officer aboard the Buran."

Mischkelovitz blinked. "I was... I was a bridge officer? On the Buran? With Captain Lorca? I was the captain's science officer? I was..." She suddenly looked so happy. "I was a bridge officer! And then, did I die?" Her voice was a happy exclamation. Even the prospect of her own demise seemed unable to diminish her glee at this information.

Burnham glanced down and discovered a small surprise. "No, you are currently in prison for treason."

"I'm Gabriel's senior science officer! Me!" She looked at Groves and O'Malley for affirmation. Groves shrugged, not caring because he was dead, but O'Malley managed a weak smile of dubious support.

"I'm... glad for you," said Burnham stoically, because she did not know what you were supposed to say when someone reacted to this sort of information with the level of unrestrained joy Mischkelovitz was displaying. Burnham looked at Allan. "Do you also have another name?"

"Me?" said Allan, surprised. "No. Just 'John Langley Allan.' Same as it's ever been."

"I was unable to find any record of you or your parents. It's possible you were never born."

"Oh, well that's comforting," said Allan. "A whole universe of evil and I'm the only one not in it."

Burnham tilted her head, trying to determine if that was sarcasm. "Major?"

"I'm too good for this universe. Literally too good for it!" He grinned at Mischkelovitz and she pressed her hands together and smiled back coyly, fighting the urge to laugh.

Burnham sighed. At least two people could find positives in this abysmal situation. "The rest of you will need to lay low to avoid causing suspicion." She turned to leave again.

"Wait!" said Mischkelovitz. "What about Mischka?"

O'Malley reacted to this request with alarm. Groves seemed piqued. "Milosz Mieszała," Groves supplied.

"I'm not sure," O'Malley began to say, but Burnham had already located the record without even needing to ask Groves how Milosz's name was spelled.

"He also died in 2238."

Mischkelovitz was immediately grief-stricken. She turned and pressed her face against O'Malley's shoulder and he put an arm around her in sympathy, but truthfully he was relieved. As tragic as that information was, it was better than having Mischkelovitz attempting to chase down Milosz's living ghost somewhere in this universe.

"What the hell happened in 2238?" wondered Groves aloud.

"I don't have any information about that," lied Burnham. The answer was plainly written on the padd in her hand. In 2238, at the age of fifteen, Emellia Petrellovitz had killed eighteen people, ten of them children. Listed among the dead were John Francis Narvic and Mischkelovitz's former husband in the other universe, Milosz Mieszała.

Lorca stood in his ready room doing his own delve into the core data. The bridge now belonged to "Captain Killy" as far as he was concerned (what a nickname that was; Tilly's mirror counterpart had really gone out of her way to earn it), but it suited him fine, because he liked the quiet dimness of his ready room.

As soon as Burnham appeared, Lorca began to pepper her with questions. "Are we civilians? Do we get uniforms? What?"

The answer was not pleasant. Neither he nor Burnham were presently part of the Terran command ecosystem. Burnham was presumed dead and Lorca was wanted for her murder.

Lorca swallowed. "Well, what happened?"

"It appears that you and I both enjoyed immense prestige here. I was the captain of the Shenzhou. And you had the Buran here, too, sir."

Lorca asked the question because it had to be asked, but his reluctance was clear. "And, my crew—they alive?"

"No," said Burnham. "You attempted a coup against the emperor. I was sent to stop you. In the process, my shuttle was destroyed by one of your followers and I was killed. And the emperor laid waste to your ship in retaliation. It's believed you escaped."

Lorca shook his head. That was not right, not at all. "Well, there's me hoping I'd find a better version of myself over here," he said, and smiled in thanks at Burnham. Then he turned to the window. "Look out there. Come on." He jerked his head for her to join him at the window and she obliged. Their reflections stood side by side against the backdrop of stars. "Amazing, isn’t it? Different universe, but somehow the same people had a way to find each other." He looked away from the stars a moment, smiled at her. "The strongest argument I've ever seen for the existence of destiny."

"I'm not sure if I believe in destiny," said Burnham.

"Well, is that so?" asked Lorca. "Sitting in that cell all alone, facing a life sentence of solitude, future full of misery... A little part of you had to know that wasn't the end of your story. You were destined for something more."

"Destiny didn't get me out of prison, captain," she countered, and for a moment he felt every bit of that cold, Vulcan upbringing. Then her voice broke into something warmer. "You did that."

"Well. Let's agree to disagree. For now." He looked at Burnham, her eyes fixed on the stars. "Maybe it's not a bad thing that you and I are ghosts. I found something curious in the data here. A potential way home. I didn't know how to exploit it till right now, but I think you might end up saving us all."

According to rebel files, theirs was not the first ship from their universe to end up here. The USS Defiant, a Constitution-class, had slipped into this universe as well. The difference was, it had not done so with a spore drive. That meant there was another way to traverse between the worlds.

As they reviewed the data and formulated a plan, Lorca handed Burnham a cookie. "You have a reputation for being straightforward and honest," it read.

He also took one for himself. "Your principles mean more to you than any money or success." He snorted in laughter.

"Is that funny?" asked Burnham, who tended to miss jokes because of her childhood on Vulcan.

"The last person who got this fortune hated it," Lorca recalled. "But I like it just fine." He smiled and tucked it into his pocket.

Ultimately, their plan was elegantly simple. Posing as their Terran counterparts, Burnham—whose body had never been found—would bring in the Empire's most wanted fugitive, Gabriel Lorca, and gain access to the Shenzhou. From there, they would download every bit of data available on the Defiant, and finally return to Discovery and figure out how to apply this information towards their situation. A simple mission, in and out. Tyler would pose as Burnham's personal guard for an added level of backup security.

"Let's get us home," Lorca said.

First, though, they were all going to need a very good night's sleep.

The message came through brig chess and it was two words: "NEED SPORES." Tilly looked at it and frowned and bit her lip.

She should have been reviewing her own personnel file, or better yet, sleeping, but the vicious achievements of her mirror counterpart, "Captain Killy," scared her and she was too jumpy to sleep. Instead, she was in the engineering bay, trying to pinpoint the source of the aberration that had dropped them into another universe. Other people were hard at work on the problem, too, and likely the answer was simply what everyone suspected—the enduring toll jumping had taken on Stamets—but Tilly had been the one actively at the controls. She kept going over everything in her head. Where had they gone wrong? Could she have done something to prevent this? How were they going to get home?

There was no way she would solve these questions tonight, but working on a technical problem was a comfort to the engineering portion of her brain.

The two-word message concerned her. It was possible this entire thing had not been Stamets fault at all. Possibly it was hers because she had been supplying Mischkelovitz with spores.

Well, she decided. No time like the present to practice being captain. She headed towards the lab.

"Oh my god," said O'Malley when he saw her. She looked the very image of her mirror counterpart. Gold armor over a black uniform, long blonde hair flowing straight down to her shoulders instead of the familiar mess of red frizz. He was in a Terran uniform, too, but his had black armor instead of gold, so was much less showy, and his hair had not changed.

O'Malley's response threw Tilly, but she quickly recovered. "Is that how you address your captain!"

O'Malley stared at her, blinking in disbelief.

Tilly shrunk apologetically. "Sorry," she said. "Practicing being the scary version of me!" She threw her hands up in a display of helplessness.

"No, that was... good," said O'Malley. "You just look so..."

The expression on O'Malley's face did not seem very appreciative of the new look. Tilly self-consciously pulled at her straightened hair. "You don't like it?"

"I realize it's bad form to tell a woman she doesn't look good, but..." He frowned. He was clearly thinking it.

"Really? It's not sexy?" O'Malley's eyebrows shot up. Realizing how that sounded, Tilly immediately blurted, "Not that I meant—I mean—"

"Me neither!" exclaimed O'Malley. "Not that you're not—" They were both getting entirely flustered. "I'm much too old for you! And married!"

Tilly held up her hands again, this time pointing upward and spinning her index fingers in a request to pause the conversation. "Let's rewind and start over!"

O'Malley squinted at her because he did not believe in do-overs. "I just meant, I think you look perfectly fine as yourself, and this is..." He waved his hand at her look. "A lot."

"I don't want you to think I'm sexy," said Tilly, embarrassed. "You're very nice, colonel, but..." She shook her head. That thought had never entered her head until now and it held no appeal.

O'Malley turned his gaze to the ceiling and sighed, partly because no one liked being rejected no matter how many times it happened or how right the rejection was, and partly because Tilly was rather young and probably lacked some awareness as to what qualities she had to offer in this regard. "The sexiest thing a person can be is themselves," he declared. "And everyone's most attractive feature is their mind. Now let's call this topic closed forever."

"Forever," agreed Tilly.

Inside, Mischkelovitz was also surprised by Tilly's new appearance, but made no attempt to comment on it. Her own Terran uniform (they all had them in case of some sort of unfortunate Terran incursion) lay draped halfway across a table on the far side of the room, essentially abandoned.

"Where are the spores?" was Mischkelovitz's greeting. She had not really warmed up to Tilly despite the regular spore deliveries.

"I need you to tell me what you're doing with them," said Tilly.

Mischkelovitz shook her head forcefully enough it seemed to make her dizzy and bumped into her worktable. "I can't!"

Tilly took a breath and focused herself. "I've been bringing you spores for weeks now, and that last jump we ended up in parallel universe. How do I know that wasn't because of the spores I gave you?"

Mischkelovitz recalled what Lorca had said. You had to find the truth in what you were saying. The truth was, Mischkelovitz knew how they had gotten here, but that was a secret. It was also true she knew her work with the spores was entirely not the cause of it. Not everything you could do with spores involved traveling places. "I promise you," said Mischkelovitz, "it wasn't that. I need spores, though, I really do. Please." Her eyes began to water.

Tilly hated to see anyone cry. She knew too well what it felt like. "Why is it so important? Why can't you tell anyone?"

"Because," trembled Mischkelovitz, "it's Mischka's secret!" Her breathing became erratic.

"You mean... Lieutenant Mischkelovitz? Your..." Thankfully, Mischkelovitz nodded, erasing the need for Tilly to probe for further confirmation. "But he didn't work with spores. I've read every single thing I could find about his research, and he never..." Milosz had not worked with spores or mushrooms, he had no interest in biology, and would have found Stamets' physics-as-biology assertions impossibly simpleminded and pedestrian, but he had worked with things that could possibly interact with spores that had the properties belonging to Prototaxites stellaviatori.

Tilly spoke aloud what she thought Mischkelovitz was doing. The way Mischkelovitz's eyes went wide was answer enough. "But that could totally have affected the jump!" exclaimed Tilly.

"No!" insisted Mischkelovitz. "It couldn't, because look!" She ran to the nearest wall and began pulling open the panels. Every element of the walls was a panel, and behind every panel were transparent conduits. A thin line of blue dust lay in the bottom of the conduits, but they were otherwise empty. "It was like this before the jump!"

"Then you already..." Tilly's eyes widened. "Did it work?"

"Yes!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

Tilly accepted that, if Mischkelovitz was telling her the truth, there really was no way Mischkelovitz's work had interfered with the spore jump. At least that meant Tilly's conscience was now a little clearer. Her secret spore deliveries had not been the cause of this mess. Which did not absolve her of any responsibility from being the one at the drive's controls.

"So will you get me more spores?"

Tilly's brow knit as she frowned in thought. "Okay," she decided. "But I can't do it right now. The lab is under a lot of scrutiny because of what happened."

"So what? Aren't you the captain now?" asked Mischkelovitz. Tilly stared. Surely Mischkelovitz did not think this play-acting was indicative of any actual change in rank. "I'm a bridge officer, you know. On the Buran. Maybe I should just go and—"

"No!" Tilly said quickly. "I promise I'll bring more spores soon. Just hang tight until I do. Promise me you won't try to get any yourself."

As displeased as Mischkelovitz was to have to wait, she agreed. "But listen to me, you can't tell anyone what I’m working on, understand? Not a single person. If word gets back to anyone..."

"I understand," said Tilly, even though she did not. Science was better when people were working together in her opinion, not territorially hiding their work.

It struck Tilly as she was standing in the access chamber, preparing to open the outer door. They might never get out of this strange universe. Exactly who was Mischkelovitz worried word would get back to?

As Lorca entered his quarters, his mind was already pouring a drink.

"Gabriel."

He almost jumped out of his boots in surprise. Lalana was sitting in the middle of the room waiting for him. He hastily shut the door before anyone saw her, never mind that the hallway outside was empty. "Lalana, what... How?"

She tilted her head and spun her hands. "How do I usually get into your room?"

In the past, he knew the answer to that question had been Einar Larsson, but that could not be the answer now. Larsson did not have full security clearance aboard Discovery and the door to Lorca's quarters, like the door to his study, had been set to unlock only for him.

"Did you forget?" she asked. "You gave me your room codes many years ago. 'Fate has shown you what you were not to see.'"

That was indeed the code. It had been transferred along with every other personal setting on file from the Buran. It was also the code to his personal study. There was a more pressing concern. "Did anyone see you?"

"Of course not. I was very careful. Einar hid me in the halls." There was Larsson's participation, right on cue. Lorca was beginning to realize the two of them were thick as thieves.

He shook his head faintly in amazement. "All right, well, you're welcome to stay the night, but I'm dog-tired." He moved towards the bed, unfastening his collar and pulling open the front of his uniform jacket with a groan of exhaustion.

"Now that we are in this universe, do you still need the phaser under your pillow?"

"I'll put it somewhere else," he agreed.

He was agreeing to a request she had not made. "Oh, no, I do not mind it, I simply wondered if being here was comfort enough so as to render the phaser unnecessary."

Lalana seemed to have missed the memo on what "here" was like. "Why the hell would being here..." He rubbed his eyes. He was tired and not entirely sure how to phrase it.

"Because of San Francisco."

Lorca did not follow. He sighed, shook his head, and went for the whiskey. "I'm not in the mood for any riddles tonight," he warned her, pouring a glass. "Maybe you should go."

"In San Francisco, you kept reaching under your pillow and waking up when you could not find the thing that was missing. If I had known a phaser was the thing you were reaching for, I would have brought you one. As it was, I did not know how to help you and I find myself in that position again."

Lorca moved towards the window and stared out at the stars. "It's great that you want to help, but we've already got a plan to get us out of this universe, so unless you're hiding a clone of Stamets..." He turned from the window, smiling at her in jest.

Lalana did not click her tongue. She tilted her head. "I think you have heard the opposite of my meaning."

"Oh?" he prompted, sipping his drink and turning away from the window to listen.

"I am not interested in helping the crew get home, I am interested in helping you with your plan. You have one, do you not?"

She had proven herself an excellent sounding board on several occasions, so he explained the plan to gain access to the Shenzhou and steal intel on the Defiant.

She stopped him. "This is very interesting, but you cannot expect me to believe you came back here for the purposes of leaving again? Is it that you need to pick something up?"

For a moment, he was again confused, but then there was a glimmer in the back of his mind. He felt a sudden rush of something approaching panic. The surge of adrenaline kicked him wide awake. "What the hell are you talking about," he said flatly.

"The particles here, they match you in resonance. So we are in your home now, are we not?"

"This is..." He shook his head as if clearing it. This was not happening. "I'm from Earth, Lalana. You know that."

"Yes, but not the Earth my Gabriel was from. There must be an Earth here as well, then."

"Your..." She knew. She knew. How could she possibly know? She couldn't. "What are you saying?"

"What part of what I have said is confusing?"

He was still desperately trying to stick to the script. "All of it! Lalana, we're in a different universe, not the one we're from."

"My eyes see more than you will ever know. As I have said repeatedly to humans, and yet still you seem to have trouble understanding. Gabriel, I knew you weren't Hayliel the moment I saw you, because you are a different color."

Lorca sat down heavily on the bed and considered grabbing the phaser under his pillow. Not yet. Not until he understood what was going on. He downed the remaining whiskey in his glass and tried to return to the lie one more time. "You're confused, that's all. That jump must have messed up your eyes. Let's get Mischka to take a look."

"I even tested you, do you recall? I asked you what the last message Hayliel sent me was about, and you could not tell me, because you did not send it."

He dimly remembered that. "But..."

"Then there was the time you said we were not animals, when I brought you the octopus. My Hayliel understood very well that we are."

That incident he recalled vividly because a whole, live octopus from the San Francisco Bay was not an easy thing to forget.

Lalana continued, "When I was helping Dr. Li with her investigation, she shared with me the notes of the medical doctor who served with her uncle. He examined the body of a member of the Suliban Cabal. We have similar eyes, did you know? The Suliban were genetically enhanced with lului eyes because lului eyes can see particle resonances in waves outside of light."

Something clicked in his mind. He put the glass down on the bed next to him. "The halo of stars."

Her hands spun twice in approval. "Yes, I believe that is another aberrant resonance. But yours it not a halo. It is... darker somehow. That is why I call you the space between the stars. And now, we are in a world where everything is the space between the stars. So, this must be the world you are from. It matches you."

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. "This entire time, you knew..." He could not finish the sentence and say what she knew because admitting it even after exposure still went against his every instinct.

"Of course. That is why I have been helping you." She had helped him, repeatedly. She had given him details and insights above and beyond, which had never made much sense at the time except she seemed to enjoy talking and telling him things. "Why do you think I told you my story?"

Lorca stared. He had thought she was just trying to comfort the person she knew as her Gabriel by retelling their story. Something to get him through the tragedy of losing a ship. Not as an instruction manual, but that was how he had used it, and apparently exactly as she intended.

It struck him, the truth. "You told me the story so I'd keep you around." Lorca pulled at his mouth with his hand. It was impossibly crazy to think this whole time she had been on his side and known exactly who he was. He felt himself shake faintly at the magnitude of it.

"But of course. I was surprised how readily you believed me. My Hayliel understood, as you have failed to, that I am constantly repurposing truths, yet you 'take me at face value' even though you cannot read my face. Perhaps you thought there were no liars like you in my universe. But mostly, Gabriel, I told it to you because you are always so afraid. It is written on you as clearly as words are in a book. It is etched into you. My Hayliel had fears, but they did not govern him the way they govern you. He found the way to escape them."

"I'm not afraid," Lorca said with a sneer, because in this universe, that was not something you admitted.

Her head tilted. "Aren't you? Aren't you terrified right now? And are you not running away?"

He stood firm—figuratively, because he was still sitting on the bed and was not sure his legs would hold if he did get up. "I'm not afraid of anything. And I don't run."

"You are not a very good liar."

That statement hung in the air long enough for Lorca's face to cloud with anger.

Lalana's head straightened. "It is as it is. You do not need to admit anything. I am here to admit things to you, Gabriel. You are not him, but you are. You are funny and clever and you come up with the most amazing plans. You inspire people, to your own ends, but you inspire them all the same, and make them better. You take command of the world around you and shape it to your will, just as he did. I appreciate how you have attempted to become Hayliel. It is like you ate him, which is a very lului thing to do. You did not let his death go to waste."

To call that sentiment alien was an understatement.

She took a step towards him. "Mostly, you are the only thing I have left of him. I would do anything to keep you safe and make you happy."

Lorca's face darkened at her approach. He had read the lului reports. He knew the damage she could do on a cellular level. He knew it firsthand, though damaging was not the way she had used that skill during the single night they had spent together. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I have been your ally all this time in my world, but now that we are in yours, I wish to know. How may I help? What is your plan?" She stepped towards him again.

Given the words she used to describe it, she must have realized what he had done to the Buran captained by her Lorca. He reached for the phaser then. Stretched back and grabbed it from its hiding place under his pillow quick as he could and pointed it right at her. "Stay back. I see exactly what you're doing. You're trying to trick me, get me to let my guard down so you can avenge your precious 'Hayliel.' Well, I'm not falling for it." His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Oh, Gabriel. Killing you will not bring him back. You are the closest thing to him I have. I would not sacrifice that for anything. That is why I have been helping you. Because I still love your face, and I will always love your face. But I do not know this world or how to help you here. So tell me. What do we do next?"

He lowered the phaser and took a deep breath. He understood what she meant entirely because he knew it was true. When you had lost the person you loved most in the universe, it meant everything to be able to see their face again, even as another person. He knew it because he had lived it himself. He stared at her, looking forlorn. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I know you can tell me because Hayliel could do anything he set his mind to, and you are him from another universe. Let me help you, Gabriel, the way I helped him." She took the last step towards him and placed her tail upon his hand in comfort and pressed her chest against his knee in companionship. "I have kept your secret. You can trust me."

So he told her.

Part 75

#Star Trek #Discovery #Star Trek Discovery #Despite Yourself #Captain Lorca #Gabriel Lorca #Mirror Universe #Sylvia Tilly #Cadet Tilly

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thealfanator · 7 years

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Dandelion’s Tales, Part 2 ~ Chapter 1

Dear Reader. It is I, Master Dandelion! Back again from the depths of the complex, tangling Novigrad streets so that I can present to you the next chapter of my story. You remember the previous one, right? My extravagant tales with my faithful ally, Dune? I hope you do, because this is my continuation of it, right here (Please read the first one, I beg you). Wait, you can’t read it? Of course; my apologies. There’s only one copy of it stuffed in my chambers at the Chameleon! What am I saying… wait, where are you running off to? Wait!

Oh well, I’m probably coming home to a broken-in building. Nevertheless, here it is! Now, I must warn you. This second adventure is a much more dangerous yet eventful story than the first – not that I’m afraid of danger, of course! I am not a fighter, or a swordsman however I can handle myself, you know. I don’t need a sword to talk my way out of a situation! I mean, I guess I can say I have Dune for that, though I dislike his sudden sword flashes at every given opportunity… though if he hadn’t, I’d probably be dead by now!

I’ve rambled on too long! Please enjoy.

After receiving that note – the one about meeting “D” at Farcorners the next evening, my anticipation of excitement within me pulsated in rhythm with my heartbeat. I immediately burned the letter and jumped around like an overly-hysterical Nekker. I’m pretty sure I woke everybody else up in the building; all the drunken lads, tired bartenders and extraordinary musicians. (Apologies for that, by the way). I spent the next day preparing myself. Yes, I knew it would be highly dangerous. Before, it was unintentional: stumbling across danger at the most awkward time possible, then having Dune rescue me as if I was the damsel in distress (I was not the damsel in distress!). Now, however, I was seeking it; actually going out of my way to write about our remarkable discoveries together. I was actually certain I would probably find my way to the tip of some hunter’s pointy sword. After already experiencing this tale that I’m about to unravel to you, I can say that Younger-Dandelion was not wrong! I paced around the fish-market, saying hello to my fellow friends and frantically buying provisions for the journey. I juggled around taverns experiencing the finest ales before I became immediately stripped of them that evening. I heard word from Geralt of Rivia, simply asking me if I was fairing well in Novigrad, and that he’d just left Kaer Morhen in search of a contractor who was looking for some peculiar amulets, or something (I didn’t really pay attention). Then I stressfully waited until it was almost midnight, with my notes, parchment and journals in hand, before wandering out…

The sweet air of the city was crisp and strict. Echoes of my breath hung like relaxed clouds in front of my face. Choking smells of burning plagued the streets, finding their way from the nearby houses, up the chimneys or the windows and leaking onto the silent air. I swiftly walked around the plentiful splotches of Redanians that paced the cobblestones, and pardoned my way through busy civilians, carrying baskets of items or wielding knives against their hidden sleeves waiting for the right citizen to come by to unintentionally volunteer as their personal stabbing sack. I made my way across the crumbling bridge and… there he was. Wasn’t hard to spot him. He was the only one in my view with a horse and a suspiciously calm silhouette.

“Well, we meet again.” He said as I grew closer. He maintained his cheery tone despite his barbaric nature and familiarity with the handle of a sword. Sweat proceeded from his forehead, glittering in the moonlight, whilst his long, streaking black beard (which had been noticeably trimmed since the last time I saw him) flickered in the breezy air like the leaves off of trees. He had both hands rustling inside a satchel strapped to the side of the mare, but immediately retreated them to make way for a pat on my back.

“Indeed.” I returned. We exchanged stares for an unusually long amount of time.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back here?” My words rung in the subtle atmosphere, and I thought of before. His only mission was to get me back safely, and now he wanted to bring me back into it. I’m not complaining, of course! I love the idea of exploring the unknown and unveiling it to every single person I know. It’s exciting!

“I couldn’t resist. I see potential.” I’m certain I saw a pinprick of happiness in his crystal blue eyes, which he noticed and then immediately looked away into the distance to hide it. “Is a life meaningful if you don’t risk your life for the things you love?” He had a valid point. I smiled, looking down at my feet.

“Thank you.” I mumbled. I was in his debt. I couldn’t have possible wandered out into all sorts of danger to document the things I’d love to experience, but now I have Dune. Experienced killer (unfortunately, I guess) but good protector all the same. The only thing he gained from this was a clumsy idiot following him around a lot, which continued to spark the question of ‘why?’.

“It might be dangerous.” He turned back to look at me, warning me in a grave tone. I nodded like a nervous child, accepting the risk. “Let’s do this.” He mounted the horse and welcomed me to join behind him, on the same horse. How it managed both our weight combined, I’ll never know.

“So where exactly are we going?” I’m going to be honest, I was expecting to ride off into the wilderness, and thus document the strange things of the world that nobody really sees. However, Dune had other plans. To my immediate surprise, he had steered the horse back into Novigrad; swerving around corners and flinging townspeople out of the way! I had to shout in order for him to pay attention to me (rather than actually hear me over the clattering of the horse hooves).

“You’ll see!” His mischievous grin replied.

Before I knew it I was staring at a boat that had just come into harbour.

“Are you kidding me.” I think even Dune noticed it was more of a shocked expression than an actual question. I had brushed down the muck from my suit and laid down my tiny brown bag to the side, resting on a box. Dune wandered off to talk to some locals, then returned a moment later. Meanwhile, dockhands and privateers rummaged through the port like tiny, angry ants going about their day. I asked him what we were doing here.

“You’re the one who wanted this!” he exclaimed in a humorous voice as if to say ‘there’s no turning back now!’ “It’ll be fun!”

“Hm.” We both briefly looked away. The now rising sunlight charred the wooden boards and stone across the city. Chatters hid within the convoluted streets, and the red brick of the housing complemented the heat like a ferocious blaze. I lost count at the amount of times I had to wipe the sweat off my forehead, yet, astonishingly, Dune hadn’t done it once since we got off the horse.

Suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity of chatting to locals, our ears stood up like alert animals as the rather dull-looking captain of the ship started shouting all around just before Dune pat me on the back and dragged me up.

“Right, that’s our cue!” he chuckled.

“We’re not actually doing this, are we?” I exclaimed in shock. We were actually doing this.

I was nervous, I admit. I didn’t bring my sea legs with me. I tried to hide to fact that I was actually shitting myself on the inside. We boarded the creaking structure, and the bridge became knocked off and onto the pier. We were off. “Don’t worry.” Dune said, “It’s all paid for; you and me.” He cheekily winked at me before rummaging off to talk with people on the ship.

“I’m actually quite concerned. Where are we going? What if we cannot make it back? What if…” I began to shout to Dune amongst the wailing of the waves and the sails.

“Don’t be! It’ll be fine.” He talked back. He seemed so relaxed; definitely not the cautious man from before, eyeing behind his shoulder at every opportunity. By this point, we had been on this boat for a few days and I’d thrown up enough times to be unable to count them on both hands, and there was no land to be seen amidst the thick fog and the wild sea. Sighing, he turned back to me. We were idly standing on the deck; men rushing around us carrying spindles of netting and boxes of freshly hooked fish, screaming and shouting cheerfully as they hurry about their business. It was surprising how much they stank! Not to be rude, but I literally had to almost choke myself to dissipate the smell. “Look,” he started, softly grabbing my arm in an attempt to comfort me, “we are only heading out of the continent! This is going to be different – and twice as exciting!” he added enthusiastically. “It’ll only take a day, now. I promise!” He wandered off again (he has a habit of doing that at random moments).

I struggled. It was in the middle of nowhere, and the only feeling of company was the vivid sense of other people’s soaked clothing and greasy monotonous food! I’m not saying the presence of food is a bad thing, but you know what I mean. Along the journey, I met this seemingly shy fellow named Will. I must say, don’t let his appearance fool you! He had a timid body structure, with black, curly locks coiled within a piece of vibrant, red cloth around his head, and his almost-luminous green eyes. However he managed to contain double the confidence as one of those brutes you see on the dim Novigrad alleys! He approached me one lunchtime, amidst the rocking of the ship and creaking of the wailing floorboards. He lumped down right next to me and immediately smiled.

“You eating that fish?” he roared brightly. He nudged me and, before I could even answer, he took it from my plate and started chomping on it like a wild creature. I let it slide for now; I must’ve been so desperate for someone else to talk to. I nodded slightly and kept my face blank and cryptic.

“So…”

“Will!” he said.

“Nice to meet you… Will. My name’s –“

“Dandelion!” He looked mid-twenties, but had this quirky attitude of a ten year-old. Munching of my remaining parts of my food, I asked him how he knew. “You get a lot of talk around the cabins!” he started, “We laugh at you for your incompetence to walk steady on the deck.” He leaned into me for a whisper, “It is kinda funny!” I chuckled with him before silence engulfed the conversation for a small period of time.

“So, you’re a pirate, then?” I tried for anything to give me leverage in the conversation, however the moment he stuck a knife to my throat was the moment I had regretted it.

“Absolutely not!” he barked loudly, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear – or for anyone to pay attention I guess. “I’m a privateer. There’s a difference.” I held my hands up in surrender as he withdrew the knife and chuckled. “I’m only kidding!” he said before running off to tamper with something else.

“Okay then.”

Land was in sight. I’m pretty sure I saw it before anyone else (yes, I was that desperate). Sand guarded the forest-like structure, clashing against the water. I took excited gasps before immediately dashing to my room to gather my notes and journals.

“Sail ho!” Shit. Those words, chorused by multiple men above me, vibrated the ship before explosions and splinters of wood shattered around me. Dropping everything, I rushed to the surface to see what was happening. Ships. Multiple attackers surrounded our own. Smoke rose from the sea like plumes of grey matter from a fire. Metal shots zoomed past our heads and some into the ship itself, allowing passage of gushing floods through the structure. Deafening periods of silence followed bursts of sound as blazes of yellow inflicted upon all three ships. Us, and our two hostiles.

“Dandelion!” I heard Dune shout. I couldn’t see him, for all I saw were our own people dashing around with drawn swords, and those same people crying blood by my feet. “Get inside!” The boat rocked heavily, in time with my panicked heartbeat. I stumbled around, tripping over bodies and collecting water in the bottom of my boots. I managed to get into the depths of the ship, however water was already up to my knees, and still rising. I slammed my cabin door open, searching for anything to use for a weapon. The shouts and screams grew numbingly quiet, muffled through the water and the power of the shots from our invaders. The last thing I saw before I propelled out of the gaping hole in the side of the ship, and into the open water, was Will’s body, bloody and limp, lying dead in the corner of the room.

My eyes struggled to pry themselves open. My first senses consisted of wet sand on most sides of my face, drenched clothing weighing me down, and a steel sword pressing against my throat. I startled myself awake, backing my body away into a tree as my vision slowly became more vivid. Dune.

“Did I scare ya?” he sheathed his sword and gave me a helping hand from the ground.

“That’s not funny! We could’ve died and you’re playing jokes?” I started to brush off the sand and clean my face, however I was certain I was just making it worse.

“Well we made it to our destination, didn’t we?” he seemed too relax for this situation; relishing the moment like a fine ale rather than assessing it seriously. Combating the grains of sand on my crimson clothing like a tiny, insignificant war, I looked at him more carefully – studying his expressions. “Look, I’m only trying to lighten the mood. I know this is a pretty fucked situation, but look on the bright side! You wanted adventure, you got adventure.” Did I want adventure? I wasn’t sure anymore. With no sure way back home and no food to secure our stomachs, we were effectively stranded. Shit.

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Hello! Welcome to Chapter 1 of this series. I hoped you enjoyed it. As you may have noticed, I had a bit of trouble with writing recently: little time etc. but I made it! I enjoy writing, anyhow. Please if you can, leave a note or reblog; each one makes my day :) Have a good weekend!

Note that this is a prequel to The Steel that Warmed Us in the Night-Time, and (obviously) a sequel to Dandelion's Tales (part 1.) You’ll see why soon ;)

#dandelion's #tales #dandelion #season #4 #four #written #fanfiction #fantasy #adventure

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cassiopeiassky · 7 years

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When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 45

Random tidbit - this part contains some of the very first concepts that were written for this story. Strap yourselves in, it’s an emotional roller coaster. You’re welcome.

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 3215

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Mentions of violence, death and physical assault, disturbing descriptions, panic attack, anxiety If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie. I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests. Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, but I had to do it. I had to, I had to be the Winter Soldier,” he mumbles into your hair repeatedly as his left arm wraps around your back to hold you close while his right hand cradles the back of your head.

“You came back to me,” you whisper against his neck, and you feel him stiffen before he gently pushes you back so he can meet your eyes. He stays quiet as he caresses your cheek and smooths back your hair, the small, broken smile on his face at odds with the heavy sorrow and remorse in his eyes.

When he finally breaks the silence, his voice cracks as he utters your name. It takes another long moment before he speaks again. “I never left.”

It takes you a minute to comprehend what he said. “..Wh….what?”

“I never left.” He runs his hands through his hair and takes a shallow breath before continuing. “The trigger words don’t work anymore.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Wanda was thorough. She found the backup triggers and disabled those, too. I guess I didn’t think to tell you about them because they were never used on me. Didn’t seem important.”

It feels like the bed has fallen from underneath you, almost like reality has shifted. “Wait…but…but I saw…but…you hit me.”

Bucky moves as though he’s going to reach out to touch you, but stops himself. “I know, Sweetheart, I know. I was faking it. The whole time, I was faking it. When I did that…I did it. I am so sorry. I just…I couldn’t find another way. We couldn’t find a way around that goddamn collar. It was the only thing I could come up with to get me close enough to you to protect you, and to eventually get you out.” The sincerity in his eyes twists at your heart; he looks so broken.

You don’t know what you’re feeling right now. It’s too much, it’s just too goddamn much. Have you finally lost it? Is this even real? You want it to be real, right? But how. How? How could someone go to such lengths and pay such a price?

A price.

Oh God.

“You killed Steve.” You say it quietly, and suddenly you can’t breathe. “Oh, God, you killed Steve!” The enormity of what’s been done overwhelms you and throws you into a full-blown panic attack. How could he? How?!

“Oh shit, no,” Bucky surges forward, softly cupping your face with his hands; the cool metal on your right cheek is soothing on your bruised skin but the temperature contrast shocks you enough to focus on his words. “I need you to breathe, Sweetheart. Breathe for me,” he croons before taking you through a grounding exercise; the same one that you’d used to help him. “Give me five things you can see, Sweetheart, five things.”

You hold onto his voice – and his forearms – like a lifeline.

“Um, you. I see you.” Focus on him right now and nothing else. Breathe.

“Good, what else?” His voice is so soothing; soft and sure like it used to be when you were at the safehouse with him. You pay close attention to the timbre of his voice, to the traces of the Brooklyn accent that shapes his words, and to the clarity and warmth in his eyes. This is your Bucky, the man sitting in front of you. He’s here, finally. The pressure eases somewhat.

You’re able to take deep, even breaths when the exercise is completed; you wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re good, but you’re definitely better.

“Okay?” he asks softly; it’s an inadequate word for the situation, but you know what he means.

“Okay,” you confirm with a small nod.

“Good. I gotta tell you something, but it’s gonna sound crazy so I need you to hear me out, okay?” At your slow, careful nod, Bucky licks his lips and brushes his thumbs lightly over your cheeks before speaking again. “Steve’s alive. He’s fine, he –“

Umm. No. Your brain isn’t having this. “What? No. Bucky, he’s not fine.” You sit up straighter and pull out of Bucky’s gentle hold. “They served his head, literally, on a fucking silver platter! He’s the opposite of fine!” You can feel your chest constricting again as your body fights another wave of hysteria.

“No, Sweetheart, no!” His hands grip your upper arms, holding you still and grounding you into the moment so he can capture your attention. “What you saw was basically a movie prop made with animal…parts. Remnants from a slaughterhouse, I think.” He continues quickly when your eyes grow wide, “It wasn’t really Steve. He’s alive, pissed off but alive, in a cottage in the middle of the woods about 20 miles south of here with the rest of the team.” Bucky pauses to watch your reaction carefully, and when you remain still he continues, “Before we left, Stark called in a few favors to some of the people he always mentions he knows, said he wanted to be prepared for anything. I guess he’s good friends with the prop designer for some apocalyptic zombie horror show, so he called his buddy and asked him to design and create decomposable replicas of the entire team. That’s why I was gone so long; we had to wait for it to get shipped here, and then to, uh, thaw. It was…it’s a disgusting process.” He pulls a face and you feel the tiniest of smiles form in response. “It even fooled me when Stark opened the box - creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so sorry to scare you like that, but it wasn’t really Steve, I promise.”

You sit back on your heels, dumbfounded and relieved. And thoroughly grossed out.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again as he reluctantly removes his hands from your arms. You can only stare at him. “Sweetheart, I swear, the only people I’ve killed since coming to Siberia are Krakken’s men. That…that feels really fucking bizarre to say, but it’s true. Those are the only deaths that weren’t staged.”

It’s almost dizzying how fast your brain is trying to work in order to process all of the information. It’s fucking surreal, and you have so many questions, and even though he’s sitting in front of you it still feels like it’s a dream and he’s going to disappear if you blink.

“So...your missions? Those families?”

“They’re fine. Most of them are on vacation, actually. The few that stayed in the country went to their vacation homes.”

What you’d been told and what you’re hearing now are violently colliding in your mind; one brought untold grief, but the other promises healing. The echoing contradictions make it hard to keep up with what he’s saying, and you’re so scared that he isn’t really here, that you finally just fell off the cliff into a raging sea of insanity and are imagining him, whole, in front of you. Despite this, you hear the spark of hope in your voice. “How in…What?”

He nods. “We got here the day after you did. Stark’s been negotiating almost non-stop with the other nearby Pakhan since we arrived. Turns out the Krakkens aren’t all that popular around here; apparently they don’t follow the rules and play nice, and they haven’t been upholding the code of honor that ties the Pahkan brotherhood together. There’s so much betrayal and bad blood between most families and the Krakkens that when Stark offered to take care of the problem, and then added stock options and patents to the deal, they were all fairly eager to accept.”

The wave of relief that washes over you actually manages to clear your mind somewhat. “Really? No kids died?”

He shakes his head. “No, Sweetheart, no kids died. Those deaths were all staged. And if I’m not mistaken, Stark sent all of the families with young kids to Disney theme parks.”

The intricacy of their plan is astounding, to say the least. “Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath, as you finally, finally allow yourself to truly feel hopeful about getting the hell out of this pit. “So you’ve all been here almost the entire time? They were the ones taking out Krakken’s men?”

“Yes, we’ve been here almost as long as you have; Sweetheart, we’ve been working on getting you back since the second Anatoliy drove away with you. And no, they weren’t taking out Krakken’s men – I didn’t want to risk them getting too close and getting caught, and losing the element of surprise. That was me.”

That’s…woah. “That was you? How? You were with me at least one of those nights, right? Or was it two?” You struggle to remember; anxiety certainly doesn’t do your memory any favors.

Bucky gazes at you with soft eyes. “Sweetheart, it would take me until the end of forever to forget all the little details of you that I memorized, and although it feels that long, it’s only been a few weeks. I know all your little tells - I know when I can kiss your shoulder and you’ll wake, and when I can shift your entire body to bring you closer to me without you so much as twitching a muscle - so I just waited until you were in a deep sleep. You were so exhausted that I knew I wouldn’t wake you.”

“But…how?”

Bucky shrugs. “They wanted the Winter Soldier. They got him. What can I say, for better or worse I’m a damn good assassin. And since Stark compromised their security system the day after we got here, it was easy to pick them off while they slept.” Bucky’s expression darkens. “Metzger’s reaping what his uncle sowed. I’m not at all sorry about those men, and there’s gonna be more before this is over.”

“Wait.” You hold up a hand as another emotion starts bubbling up; anger. “You’ve had control of the cameras? You said when you came in that it was safe to talk, right? That’s because their system is hacked?”

He nods, seeming to brace himself for what’s coming.

Good.

“So we could’ve had this talk days ago.” At his slight nod, you continue, “What the fuck, Bucky?! You could have told me what was going on! I didn’t have to believe that you killed kids, or that you fucking killed Steve! Do you know what that did to me?? I was so fucking worried about you, and what would happen to your mind when you realized what you’d done!!” Your voice grows thick as tears threaten to fall. “God, I thought I fucking lost you!”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell you; it was too big a risk.” You open your mouth to disagree when he speaks again, “They have three separate psychologists monitoring you. Three. It’s part of his sick game; they watch you and basically tell him how far he can go – how much you can handle – before you break. It’s how he knew to have tranquilizers ready for tonight; that wasn’t a coincidence, or even for worst case scenario. He knew how you’d react – his doctors told him. If I’d told you everything earlier, they would have known your distress wasn’t genuine. They would have known if you faked the reaction to the head. They would have known, and it would have put your safety at risk. I wanted to tell you - and I almost did, more than once - but Sweetheart, even when you’re guarded and not open about sharing how you feel, you’re still terrible at hiding your emotions. It’s not a bad thing – it’s actually just one of the countless reasons why I fell for you so fast – but in this situation it could have gotten you killed. I couldn’t take the risk.”

Well…goddamn it, he has a point there. Shit.

He could read you like an open book, whether or not you thought your cover was closed. From the very beginning, Bucky saw through your “I’m fine” and moments of uneasy quiet every goddamn time, even if he didn’t call you out on it. Hell, trying to hide your emotions was something you’d done for years with Christopher, but even after all that practice, even Christopher knew when something was up; he just didn’t give a shit unless your mood bothered him. You feel your anger begin to deflate. Bucky’s right – you would have blown it.

He looks over to you before looking down at his hands. “God, I promise, I didn’t want to hurt you, or terrify you, or leave you alone. Can I explain my reasoning? Or do you just want to hear the plan to get you out?”

You look down and stare at the bedspread bunched between you and him while you attempt to gather your thoughts. You know without a doubt that he loves you more than he loves himself, and you know he would never want to hurt you, mentally, physically, or emotionally. He had to have had a damn good reason to do what he did - it wasn’t exactly like any of this could have been easy for him - and suddenly some of the pieces start to fall together.

You’d had no broken bones, just some bruising and a few cuts from when he was ordered to attack you. Sure, you were sore, but not ‘holy shit I was attacked by the Winter Soldier’ kind of sore, but more of an ‘I’ve been training with Bucky’ kind of sore. Well, maybe a little worse than that, but definitely not as bad as having your ass handed to you a trained, cybernetically enhanced assassin. You weren’t taking the hits extraordinarily well – he’d been pulling his punches. So much so, now that you think about it, you wonder how no one noticed. Thinking back on it, you realize that every time he ‘attacked’ you, he kept himself between you and the others, effectively blocking their view so they couldn’t see everything. You also wonder how it hadn’t been blatantly obvious to you, especially with the split second he’d hold his hand before striking you – that was deliberate, to let you know how to absorb the hit. And then he made you pass out, to end it all as quickly as possible while doing minimal damage.

He hit you, yes, because if he didn’t, someone else would have. And it would have been far, far worse. It would have been Grigory. Or Anatoliy. Or both. Maybe even all of the Hounds, if Bucky had refused.

And he willingly kept you in the dark; he let you think he’d killed Steve, for fuck’s sake. But he’s right – you wouldn’t have been able to fake it – you probably would’ve accidentally compromised the team and gotten everyone killed.

Fuck. It’s too much to take in, but you can’t fall apart; you don’t have that luxury. You need to take what you know – that Bucky and the others have been working non-stop to get you back and that they’re doing what they need to do in order to accomplish this – and you need to fix your mind on that. If you get back to Artie and Jimmy, and back to Bucky, the end justifies the means. It’s easier to understand if you look at it from that point of view.

Fuck, you’re going to need a shit-ton of therapy after this. Still, for the moment, you know what’s real.

Looking back up at Bucky, you take a moment to drink him in; he must have taken your lack of a reply to his questions as a silent demand to be left alone. Studying the dejected curve of his shoulders and downturned head, you say the only thing you can think to say; the only thing that really matters at this point. “Bucky, I trust you.” It’s the truth. You don’t have to like his methods, but at the end of the day, you trust him; there really weren’t any other options.

He looks to you, surprised.

“I mean, I’m not thrilled about it…we’ll, uh, we’ll have to talk about some more it later, I think, but the alternative was much worse.”

Bucky stares at you with the teeniest, tiniest bit of hope in his eyes, but says nothing.

“You didn’t have a choice. Well, technically you did, but I know what that choice was – Bucky, those men weren’t going to pull their punches if they beat me, and they sure as hell weren’t going to be gentle if they raped me. I don’t have to like it, but you being the Winter Soldier me kept me much safer in the long run.”

He flinches at your words, but nods. “I’m so incredibly sorry. Please know that it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He looks miserable yet resolute when he speaks again, “I’d do it all over again, though, to keep Krakken’s men off you. Even if I end up losing you – at least you’ll be alive. That’ll be enough for me.”

More pieces click together. “This is why you kept asking me to forgive you when Nicolai was saying the trigger words…isn’t it…”

Bucky nods. “I don’t expect you to-“

“Buck, don’t,” you’re quick to interrupt him with a gentle hand on his forearm. “Just don’t. Don’t push me away to punish yourself, and don’t act like this is the end. Neither of us deserves that. Look, we’re going to have to deal with the fallout when we get home, but we’re going home. Together. Home. You and I. Okay? I love you, and I’m not giving you up just because some motherfucking cockjockey and his evil twatsickle of a brother decided to involve us in their fucked-up plan to take over the world. You’re doing the best you can with what you have – this isn’t your fault, okay?”

“…But…”

“But nothing, goddamn it. But nothing! They gave you impossible choices, Buck. I don’t blame you for choosing the way you did. Hey,” you pause and gently cradle your hands to his face to lift his head when he ducks to avoid your eyes. “If you need to hear the words, I’ll say them. I’m thankful you made the choice you did. I’m thankful, because it means that I get to go home to you and our boys. I forgive you, Bucky. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to, but just know that I’m also going to tell you that there’s nothing to forgive because I don’t blame you. This is on the Krakkens, not you. You’ve fought them too hard for too long – don’t give them the consolation prize of tearing us apart.”

He quickly pulls you into a bone cracking embrace, holding you close and tight until you’re convinced that he actually listened to you.

“You’re comin’ home? With me?” he asks in a rough whisper with his face buried in your neck.

“You’re goddamn right I am.” Like you’d ever answer any differently.

He pulls away to stare at you a moment before kissing you fiercely. In the instant that his lips capture yours, everything wrong in the world ceases to exist and it’s just you and Bucky. It’s in this moment, this very second, that you finally accept that you’re not imagining this; he’s real and he’s here. And he’s taking you home.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when he reluctantly breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know this isn’t the time or place, I just needed to feel you, to convince myself that I’m really here with you.”

You huff a quiet laugh in response as your fingers caress his scruff. “Don’t be, I was just thinking the exact same thing."

You each hold the other, taking the opportunity to breathe each other in. Like all good things, it can’t last nearly long enough.

Bucky pulls away, but remains close enough to maintain bodily contact. “I need to check in with Stark, Sweetheart. We’re getting you out of here tonight.”

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #my work #when everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#WEMtbB #part 45

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