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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will.

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal.

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity.

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields.

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door.

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space. The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously.

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848.

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.”

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains.

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.”

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand.

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering.

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup.

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer.

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something.

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim!

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door.

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely.

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient.

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway.

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay.

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels.

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.”

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle.

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator.

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time.

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

#star wars #my au #macenjar au #star wars au no 20 #crack treated seriously #mace windu #macenjar #ok i KNOW this is crack but i actually worked really hard on it and im very proud #so i would appreciate if you gave it a chance before forming judgements #NOTHING GRAPHIC OH MY GOD #star wars au #crack #crackship #anakin and padme wake up in bed together and have a married couple anidala conversation and then its PG after that i SWEAR #G RATED EVEN #Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker #becoming friends is my comfort trope ok

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 6

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder stands at the coffee pot in the bureau break room, pouring a mug full of the shitty burnt bean water and thinking back to the look on Scully’s face as he told her about the Icy Cape X file.

Valerie had always shown interest in his work, but she had her limits. She listened politely, but if he mentioned details like black nodules she made a face and told him he was going to ruin her dinner. It’s understandable that people would be turned off by the nitty gritty of his work; heck, even the Gunmen ask him to tone it down sometimes. But Scully displayed only fascination and curiosity. He suspects he could tell her about the Tooms case and she’d be more interested in discussing the plausibility of a one-hundred-twenty year old man than she’d be disgusted that he stuck his hand in bile.

“Who is she?”

He turns to see Agent Kissop, one of the more senior analysts on the team, smiling at him over her bifocals.

“I’m sorry?” he asks.

“You’ve been staring at that coffee pot with a shit-eating grin on your face for the last ten minutes. Only reason a man does that is if he has a lady on his mind. So who is she?” Kissop asks pointedly.

Mulder blushes and her smile broadens.

“I’m glad to see you putting yourself out there again, Agent Mulder,” she says with a maternal pat to his arm. “Sweet guy like you deserves to be with someone who makes him happy.”

He smiles politely and escapes to his desk, disappointment gripping his chest. He’s got someone on his mind, alright, but he’ll never be with her. Trying to put Scully out of his thoughts, he logs in to check his email. Among requests for updates on various cases, a message from HR about his 401k, and a reminder not to store entire gallons of milk in the shared refrigerator, he sees an email that makes his heart leap into his throat.

He swallows hard and opens it, hoping against hope that it is what he thinks it is.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 1, 1996 11:36am

To: [email protected]

Subject: X Files

Hi Mulder,

I hope you enjoyed the rest of your sunday.

If the offer still stands, I’d love to take a look at those X Files of yours. Perhaps one weekend? It’s hard for me to squeeze anything in on weeknights with my commute to Quantico. It just occurred to me that I don’t know where you live, either.

Anyway, let me know. Take care.

Scully

If Kissop thought he was smiling like an idiot before, she should see him now. He feels like doing a fist-pump, or a touchdown dance. Oh god, she’s going to come by his apartment, he needs to clean. What if Priscilla takes one of her colossal stinky shits while Scully’s there? Jesus Christ, he’s getting ahead of himself.

He hits reply and spends forty-five minutes writing and rewriting his response.

————

She’d written the email the moment she got to the office at 7:00 am, then left it in drafts for hours, re-reading it and changing a word here and there, adding and removing different parts. Should she sign it “sincerely, Scully,” or maybe “regards, Scully”? Or should she sign it Dana? He doesn’t call her Dana.

Maybe she shouldn’t send it at all. Isn’t it inappropriate to meet with a male coworker alone in his apartment, given that she’s engaged? But this is about work. It holds scientific significance. She wants to see the files, not Mulder. Right?

Finally she couldn't take it anymore and hit send, immediately going to her outbox to see if she could still call it back, but it was too late. Now all she can do is wait. Wait, wait, wait. She checks her email compulsively between classes and autopsies. What if he never responds? Finally, just after 1:00 pm, it arrives.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 1, 1996 1:19pm

To: [email protected]

subject: RE: X Files

Scully,

I’d admonish you for discussing this via a monitored channel, but then you’d remind me that I very specifically told you to email me.

I’m free this Saturday, if you’d like to come by. Anytime is fine, but let’s say 6 so we can justify having a drink. I hope you’re partial to shitty beer.

I live in Alexandria, at 2630 Hegal Place, apartment 42. Don’t let the dilapidated exterior fool you; it’s a very respectable slum.

Talk to you soon,

Mulder

She bites at her lips, trying to fight off the flush of delight she feels as she reads his reply over and over. Should she just admit that she has a giant crush on him? Probably. It’s not illegal to have a crush as long as she has no intention of doing anything about it. Maybe his apartment will be filthy, or plastered with Star Trek paraphernalia, and it will effectively quash her affection for him. She can only hope. She hits reply, and this time doesn’t hesitate to send it right away.

———

Her reply is waiting for him when he returns from his lunch break, and he smiles before he even opens it.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 1, 1996 1:31pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE: X Files

Mulder,

Forgive me for neglecting to speak in code. Perhaps we should establish one for future need?

Saturday at six sounds great. Who told you about my affinity for low-quality malt beverages?

I’m not overly concerned about your questionable neighborhood. I may not be a field agent, but I’m still typically armed. Consider that a warning.

See you on Saturday,

Scully

He leans back in his chair, his love struck-face shining up at the ceiling like a full moon. Why he is torturing himself by spending more time with her he doesn’t know, but he can’t seem to resist.

————-

“What about October thirteenth?” Ethan says, and she turns to look at him, confusion pulling at her face.

“What about it?” she asks.

Her mind was wandering again as they chatted over chicken and rice. Wandering back to Mulder, to their email correspondence and their plans for Saturday. Plans she hasn’t shared with Ethan.

“Dana, are you okay? I feel like you’re not listening to me,” Ethan replies with a wounded tone, his expression equally concerned and hurt.

She sets her fork down and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Ethan, I’m just distracted by some work stuff. What’s happening on October thirteenth?”

She focuses on giving him her full attention.

“For the wedding, Dana. The church is available October thirteenth. It’s a Sunday.”

Suddenly she’s not hungry anymore.

“Oh. Um, okay. Why do we need to get married this year, again? Isn’t that a pretty short engagement?”

He makes a quizzical face. “I guess...when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible?” he offers with a soft smile.

When Harry Met Sally is one of her favorite movies and he knows it. She can’t help but feel a swell of affection for him, with a hefty side of guilt.

“October thirteenth sounds perfect,” she says with a forced smile and a squeeze of his hand.

Ethan beams. “Great. I’ll go by and put a deposit down to hold it for us. We have a date, babe, that’s big progress!”

She holds the smile steady, excusing herself to the bathroom as soon as he stands to clear the table.

That night he goes down on her for an eternity, and she is sure that she is the absolute worst fiancée that has ever, or will ever live. She does not deserve this man’s love, but she wants to. She’ll try harder.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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annabethy · 4 years

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oml I am a sucker for this! There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling 😍😍

angry percabeth snuggles

in which percy and annabeth are in a fight, but they still wake up in each other’s arms (because i have a thing for pregnant percabeth. also don't think this is what you meant but this is what you get. sorry, love u anon)

“Don’t talk to me.”

Annabeth watches Percy huff and cross his arms, glaring at her pointedly. She doesn’t grace him with any further statements, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t do anything,” he says.

“You were mean.”

“I was kidding,” Percy tries to soothe. He sits on the bed next to her, but she leans away from his grasp. “Baby.”

“Stop it,” she says when he tries to pull her into his lap again.

“You’re making me feel bad.” Percy pouts. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Her head snaps towards him as her hands subconsciously wrap around her bump. “You said that I’m ugly.”

“I did not say that, and you know it.”

It’s not what he said exactly, but it might as well have been. He had told her that she was getting bigger, which was to be expected when she was carrying his child, but hearing it come from his mouth hurt so much more than expected. And sure, he hadn’t meant it like that, but she’s already been so self-conscious of her growing stomach, and his words just reinforced her worries.

“Annabeth, please.”

She sniffs, feeling the familiar lump in her throat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d been so tired of being home all the time, feeling helpless, and Percy had casually brought up getting out of the city for a couple of nights. It had been nothing more than a mere suggestion, but her face lit up and they were out of there the next morning.

She was so excited to finally have made it to a hotel after hours of being cramped in the car, but then Percy had loudly pointed out her stomach and the little waddle she had developed on the short walk up to their hotel room, and here she was, fighting with him when she was supposed to be having fun.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re not,” she says, because she knows him well enough to know that he’s not really sorry. Sorry he hurt her feelings, maybe, but not sorry that he said it.

“I wasn’t thinking when I said it.”

“Clearly.”

Percy runs his hand through his hair, quickly becoming exasperated. He was usually so patient, but even she knew she was beginning to test his limits. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Annabeth.”

She hugs herself, looking around the room for any semblance of comfort. “I want you to not have said it at all.”

“Well, I can’t do that, now can I?” he asks, sarcastic. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“Because you know I’m already terrified that I look terrible, and you just have to point out that my stomach is getting huge!”

He clenches his fist and bites his lip. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“How is that not a bad thing?”

He looks at her, dumbfounded. “Is that a serious fucking question?”

“Go ahead,” she gestures. “Tell me.”

“This is our child.”

“And I’m your wife,” she mocks. “And you just called your wife ugly.”

Percy rubs his face tiredly. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Of course you can’t,” she mutters.

“You’re being ridiculous. I already told you I didn’t mean it maliciously.”

“It wasn’t necessary! Why would you point it out!?”

“It makes me happy! Why would I not want to point out that we’re having a baby that is healthy and growing?”

“It doesn’t make me happy to have you phrase it like that.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Why can’t you take me seriously?”

“I’ve already apologized, and I’ve explained what I meant. You’re the one dragging it out here.”

She opens her mouth to respond only to snap it shut a moment later. She honestly didn’t even want to be in the same room as him right now, and she considers telling him that just to see the flash of hurt on his face. Instead, she stays silent.

“Oh? So we’re not talking to each other now?”

“I don’t even want to be here anymore.”

“Want me to take you home? Drive five hours just to drop you off?”

She shoots him a nasty glare. “I take it we’re not doing anything tonight then?”

Annabeth looks at a clock mounted on the hotel dresser. It reads 8:04, and her mind flashes with everything they talked about doing. The city they ended up in was similar to New York in that it was constantly active. She knew that there was the diner she had been excited to go to down the street, and there was the nighttime carnival he mentioned. There was so much to do but judging by his face and the simmering inside her, they wouldn’t be doing any of that.

“No.” With that, she flops down onto one side of the bed, pointedly staying away from the center of the bed where she normally resided so he could wrap his arms around her. Percy stands beside her, motionless. His eyes burn into her back, but she stays curled in a ball.

When he speaks, there’s a calmness in it again. “Can we at least go get something to eat?”

“No thank you.”

“You have to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Percy sighs again, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to start yelling again, or that he’s going to settle onto the opposite side of the bed from her so they could spend the rest of their night in awkward tension.

Instead, she hears the jingle of his keys and the ruffle of his jacket as he pulls it on. Seconds later, the door is opening, and Percy walks out, shutting it roughly behind him. She waits a few minutes before turning over to look at the door, half expecting to see him waiting for her there. When he’s not there, even though it’s not much of a surprise, the tears well in her eyes. It doesn’t take much longer before they’re falling and she’s holding back her cries.

She’s smart enough to know Percy wasn’t intentionally trying to upset her, but it had still made her stomach drop. It was so much worse because it happens a lot more often than she cares to admit. It was a part of her fatal flaw being pride. She just didn’t know when to let things go, or she did know but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

At some point, she must’ve fallen asleep like that because the next thing she knew, she was lying in bed underneath blankets she’s sure she hadn’t put there herself. It clicks into place when she sees the container of food on the stand next to the bed along with a glass of water. She turns over her shoulder to look for Percy, and she finds him fast asleep, on the opposite side of the bed, as expected.

Guilt immediately floods her as she sees how tired he looks. Even in his sleep, he looks stressed, and she suspects that it’s largely due to her. She sits up a little bit, hesitantly grabbing the food of the table. She eats quickly and quietly, sparing him glances every few seconds, and when she’s done, she’s laying back down, a gaping space between them.

It’s not a restful sleep — she spends the time tossing and turning, on the line between unconsciousness and reality. Annabeth just feels off, and it doesn’t go away until the sun is already beginning to rise. With the sun, as she’s half asleep, she suddenly feels warmer and is finally able to drift back off to a much better sleep.

Annabeth is unaware of how much time passes between that moment and when she wakes up, but it’s much brighter outside and she’s much more relaxed.

What truly grasps her attention, though, is the strong arm wrapped around her waist.

She stretches her legs out slowly, and it seems to nudge Percy awake. He groans lowly, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. She remembers the events of the night before, and somewhere in the back of her head, she wants to pull away. She shifts in his arms, but he tightens his grip on her in response, tiredly pressing three kisses to the curve of her ear before his face finds its way back to her neck.

“Hey,” he says after a few minutes. There’s still the rasp to his voice that she has grown to love. “You okay?”

It’s ironic, she thinks, him asking if she’s alright when he was the one to had to put up with her. She just nods, shrugging her shoulder as his lips trail down her jaw. He yawns. “I left food for you last night. Did you see it?”

She nods again. He loosens his grip for a few seconds when she begins to turn around in his arms so that she could press her face to his chest. She basks in the warmth. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Of course.”

They fall back into silence, Percy’s hand caressing her back comfortingly. It’s a couple minutes of her trying to work up the courage to apologize before she decides that he’s more important than her pride.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For last night.”

“It’s okay.”

“I was mean.” Percy kisses her cheek.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I get it.”

“Still.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” he says. “I was concerned, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know why I acted like that. I just feel gross being pregnant, I guess.”

“I promise you that you are so so beautiful.”

“You have to say that.”

“Yeah, but I still mean it.” She smiles languidly. “Love you.”

Another kiss, this time to the top of her head. “Love you too.”

“I’m sorry still.”

“Me too.”

“I’m super excited about our healthy growing baby. I promise.”

He laughs. “I know you are.”

“It’s not funny,” she mumbles, pressing her entire face into his chest again.

“Everything about this is kind of funny.”

“Like what?”

“You went to bed ready to beat my ass last night, and we end up cuddling.”

“I like your cuddles,” she says. “You’re warm.”

“You use me for my warmth.”

“And because you’re super nice to me when I don’t deserve it.”

Percy begins to move, and she wonders what he’s doing as he yanks the blanket down, exposing her stomach to the cool air. Percy nudges her swollen stomach before pressing a few kisses to right below her belly button, smiling when he feels a kick.

“You, Annabeth Chase,” he says, punctuated by another kiss, “deserve the world.”

Annabeth yanks him back up to her face so she can kiss him properly. She can’t believe that she managed to land this perfect boy who was always so sweet and understanding and loved her more than anything.

She kisses him once. “I already have it.”

#percy jackson #percabeth #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing #asks #anon

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dontmindifidontt · 3 years

Text

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12 Final Chapter.

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

NOTE: final chapter

Loki scoured his desks and shelves for those letters. When the knock came to his door, he gave a nod to Tatianna to open it. The maid, who had been working diligently with him in search of said letters, rushed over to check it was who she had been sent for. “The Postmaster, Lord Johan, Your Highness.” She introduced as the Postmaster came in.

“Lord Johan.” The Postmaster bowed. “Prince Loki, I came as soon as I could.” “Thank you.”

“How can I assist you, Your Highness.” “My brother has informed me that three letters were brought to my rooms over a period of months from the Ljósáfar palace.”

The Postmaster’s eyes widened. “You did receive such, Your Highness. I organised them for your rooms myself as I do all the mail for your family. They even had the name of the sender on them, the Princess Raven of Alfheim. Such fine writing she has too. Artistic and neat.”

Loki nodded and took little heed of the statement, It was well-known that the Postmaster was a graphophile, he supposed a few millennia of looking at different handwriting would turn almost anyone into one.

“I have never received them.” The Postmaster’s mouth opened to speak. “I am not, for one moment, suggesting you to be telling me falsities, Lord Johan, I know of the due care you put into your work but also I know you have entirely no reason to lie.”

“On two of the three occasions, they came alongside other post. On the final one, it did not and I ensured they all made their way to your rooms. Because of their importance, I placed them in the centre of your desk rather than the usual place.” Loki’s eyes widened and he looked at his desk, which was kept clean for when it was needed for work matters but there was nothing on it at present. “It begs the question then, where did they go, and why would anyone do such a thing as to move them?” He looked at Tatianna as he spoke. The maid shook her head slightly. Loki did not suspect his maid. He questioned her for a moment upon returning to his rooms, asking her if she recalled such letters but she stated that she did not. He had no reason to suspect her, she did not have anything to gain from dishonesty and she had even been readying the rooms in case Raven was to be joining Loki in them. She had tidied shelves in case she too was a reader and had books to join Loki’s. She had gone through each and every item of clothing of his that she could find, discarding the damaged, repairing others making room for the new princess. If anything, Loki suspected she was half excited to have a woman to assist tending to. She loved fashion and hair meaning having a princess to assist with events would undoubtedly be something pleasant for her. “Tatianna, have you tried behind those scrolls?”

“No, Your Highness, I will try now.” She darted off to do that. “Do not forget, Your Highness, Her Majesty insists you turn up for dinner. Missing lunch was unacceptable, missing dinner is...well…” “Let me guess, if I do not turn up, I will have Gungnir force me to turn up?”

“Something to that effect.”

Loki rolled his eyes at his parents’ attempts at threats. “Very well, you keep searching.” She nodded and did so. “Where in the realms are they?” Loki muttered to himself. * The prelude to the dinner did not fair as badly as Loki had worried that it would. For most of it, he spoke with the Ljósáfar princes, all of whom seemed amiable in their own ways, but what he did notice was his mother looking worriedly at him, though he barely acknowledged her unless she spoke to him directly as he did not want to embarrass his family and that there was no sign of Raven.

When dinner time arrived, he began to feel insulted that she had been able to avoid it while he was being forced to endure it. The fact that it was a public dinner made it all the worse. The whole realm would hear the announcement of the forthcoming wedding and she was not even present. What also caught his attention was the Vanir that Thor was clearly speaking within an intimate manner before the meal but who was sat down separately for the meal. He recognised her. She was of good personality but little on looks but she was from a powerful house and Asgard’s tie to Vanaheim had to remain strong so he suspected that she would be announced as Thor’s betrothed as soon as Loki’s marriage ribbon was tied. Raven was of far better looks and he knew from her knowledge of literature that she at least was not without a mind but he still felt angered by it all.

Thinking in his own mind, he heard nothing of the talk around him. It was only when he noticed a severely tense atmosphere around him that Loki got pulled from his thoughts as a shadow came into view beside him. At first, he thought the tense atmosphere was from Raven, who finally decided to grave them with her presence but after a moment, seeing her meek demeanour, he noticed she was the subject of the tense atmosphere, not the instigator. Sitting beside him, she did not even try to look at him or engage him in any manner.

“It’s good to see at least that your brothers and parents disapprove of your actions,” Loki growled lowly to her as the noise around them increased, allowing them some privacy to speak.

“My parents do not care in the slightest about that. They were more worried about me embarrassing them by learning to sew and such than anything. They were simply glad that I was no longer there being of age and unmarried.” She stated in a monotone that still seemed to seep sadness.

Loki frowned slightly. “So what has them all looking at you as though you are a disgrace?” His curiosity got the better of him.

“I should not be in public at present. It’s disgraceful. They disagree with your parents insisting that this dinner go ahead, they felt it should have been postponed.”

“I am very much inclined to agree with that sentiment. Though, I doubt our reasonings are the same, are they?”

“I very much doubt it.” She toyed with her hands.

Loki watched the action carefully, realising she had been doing so with nervousness and anxiety clearly for at least the day if not longer from the marks on them. “You will pull the skin off if you keep doing that.” She stopped and put her hands to her side. “I’m curious, what happened to the woman that stormed my room today and called me a...was it a pretentious prick?” Raven’s eyes widened and she looked around at her parents, praying to every Norn that they had not heard.

Loki studied her reaction. Thor’s and his mother’s words coming to the fore of his mind. They were both right, he didn’t like this more than he disliked a woman that would snap back. He didn’t like being called a pretentious prick but the silent and moping creature next to him was a thousand times worse. “So, you have left two things unanswered, how you shamed them enough to want them to call off this dinner announcement and where you hid the woman that barged into my rooms?” Raven said nothing for a moment, her tongue toying with her teeth as she considered her answer. “I should not have done that and I sincerely apologise for having done what I did to…”

“Norns, stop. I don’t want to hear it. Just answer my questions.” Loki hissed.

“Because I am bleeding.” She said nothing more and waited for his reaction, awaiting disgust.

Loki did not comprehend as to what she was referring to for a moment. He was going to insist that she head to the hospital wing for herself when it dawned on him what she was referring to. In his own mind, he thought to make a comment about it explaining her attitude towards him but he knew that was a cheap excuse. She had stated several times she was told off by her parents for being sarcastic and outspoken. Even when they were waiting for dinner to begin, her brothers had made comments on her behaviour being seeing as unlike other Ljósáfar women. “I am failing to see how that affects things. I am aware it is not an overly pleasant situation for a female but there are surely some things that can assist?” Raven gave a small smile at his innocence to the situation. “In Alfheim, high-born women are not seen while bleeding, or pregnant, or not until she is a certain date past childbirth, it’s seen as shameful and dirty.” “But they are basic parts of being female.” Loki didn’t even think over his reply, it came straight out of his mouth before he could process it. He looked at her, seeing the agreement in her eyes making him realise her earlier words on trying to see if she could be forced to continue such a life and how much they actually meant. Suddenly, he realised there was some sense to her actions. Insane as they were. He knew his and Thor’s lives were restricted by their positions in society, but what Raven was describing was nothing short of a form of imprisonment to him. “Obviously, it is different here. Mother did not retire from court until she was almost due my brother and myself.” He didn’t know why he used that example, she made it clear she did not like the idea of even having children but he wanted to settle her some bit.

Raven merely nodded.

As Loki was going to ask her about the letters, Odin rose to his feet silencing the room. He spoke on and on of the honour of hosting the Light Elves, the sharing of ancient magical knowledge and other such things, how they have been allies through several wars, nothing, of course, on the ones they were adversaries and other such words. No one spoke through the Allfather and when he ceased that speech, there was a cheer and raising of cups and tankards. When he spoke of the marriage, Loki gave a slight nod, as would be expected, while Raven looked around in a manner that she hoped offended no one yet knew it would offend her family terribly. When another cheer was made and another drink was taken, the talking began in earnest.

Raven seemed to think to do nothing but swirl the contents of the cup.

“Have you had mead before?” Loki found himself talking to her both out of boredom and curiosity.

Raven shook her head. “It’s nice, though.” She kept her voice down.

Loki pursed his lips. “Could the woman from today who sassed me please come out? Is there a button that activates her or is it only until a certain time of day, then at night, this meek creature emerges?” Raven’s eyes flickered toward her father, which Loki caught. “Ah, that explains things.” He leant closer causing her to shift slightly in her seat. “As of tonight, you realise you are supposed to adhere to Aesir norms, not Ljósáfar ones. Now, I need to discuss a matter with you.”

“Regarding?” “Some letters.” Raven frowned at him. “It was brought to my attention today that you sent letters to me before this...charade.” Raven looked at him suspiciously. “I did. Three.”

“Yes, Thor mentioned and the Postmaster confirmed.”

“And going by your reaction, you doubted this?” “I never received them.” Raven could not help pursing her lips in disbelief.

“I did not.” “You leave all of your post on that platter, you never miss anything. I saw that myself.” Loki studied her carefully, seeing the disbelief in her eyes. “You think I discarded them without reading?” “You read everything, this I know.” “I never received them.” He stared straight back at her, his rich green eyes willing her to see he was being truthful. “The Postmaster placed them on my desk but I never got them.”

“All three escaped your notice?”

“It appears they did.” “One I would believe, three, I am sceptical.”

“So was I when I heard such for the exact same reason,” Loki admitted. “Did you move them when you came?” “I...They would not have still been there by the time I came.”

“But you did not see them in the room, since you organised things in it?” “No, you’re not listening, they would not have still been in existence. I used paper made with Cat’s Claw oil, meaning…” “It dissolves within a month,” Loki completed. “Why, though?”

Raven nodded. “Yes, I did not want private correspondence with headed paper to be at risk of forgery, so I use that oil. Don’t you?” “I will now.” Loki could not fault her logic. If anything, he was embarrassed he had not thought of it. “What did you write?”

“Nothing too taxing. What were the best books to understand Aesir court and history best? I had heard you were an avid reader, so who you enjoyed? What other hobbies you had, nothing too intimate. The first and second were similar as I thought you had not received the first for whatever reason. The last was a tad more abrupt. Then I stopped trying.” She toyed with her hands again.

“You’re damaging your skin.” Loki admonished. “I am sorry your letters went unanswered. I don’t know what happened to them, I will find out but I did not ignore them.” “I believe you.”

Loki could see she meant it. “If I had seen them…”

“We could be dealing with a different situation right now. Not that it excuses my actions.”

Loki nodded slightly.

“I am sorry for what happened. I truly wish I had not done such. But thank you for your concern also.”

“Concern?”

“When I told you I would be leaving your service and I seemed upset, even though you were upset, you were adamant that if I was being mistreated, I could tell you. Even when you felt terrible for yourself, you showed concern for me, even when you did not like me. I think it showed me so much about you.” She gave a small smile. “Even if you think little of me as I truly am.”

Loki was going to challenge that but he saw the slight smirk and playful glint in her eye. “Norns, you switch between two different demeanours faster than the Bifrost travels realms. It will be exhausting to keep up with.” “I think you forget that I know what you are like. We will be suffering together.”

Loki chuckled to himself, thinking that this situation may not be entirely terrible if they tried. Seeing the hopeful look on Raven’s face, he suspected with some work, perhaps they could.

Raven found herself looking at a certain someone staring at her disapprovingly in the crowded room. She took a moment to realise just who it was before giving the other woman a raised brow. For her part, the other woman seemed genuinely startled as to the Light Elf she had previously spoken down to. With Loki’s interest in the princess and the princess knowing full well who she was and what she had said, she knew there was no manner to get into her good graces under false pretences but also that the Light Elf knew full well about everything and could ensure she kept a close eye on such, so she looked at her food again.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #chapter 12 #wolfpawn #hiding in plain sight

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quidfree · 3 years

Note

can you Please write the scene with bakugou's piercing SGDHEFEH the concept is too funny to me !!!

anon you’re lucky 報復性熬夜 is a concept i am firmly attached to so here i am at 1 am rattling this off instead of getting my beauty sleep. please excuse the standard of writing as a result

by the second day, katsuki is seriously considering agreeing to todoroki’s earlier and ambiguously sincere proposal that they play i spy.

he doesn’t know what it is about this particular job that’s so unbearable. no, scratch that- of course he knows what’s unbearable; it’s sat right next to him on a too-small chair in their too-small room staring impassively out of a too-small window. but he’s been thrown into so much shit with icyhot you’d think he’d developed some kind of immunity by now, the way vaccines microdose you on viruses so you can resist the real thing. call katsuki an antivaxxer, he guesses, because he has overdosed on todoroki ever since he met the asshole and he’s still not ready for how far up the wall he’s driving him when they’re stuck together for two straight days without a breather or any contact with the outside world.

cards on the table: stake-outs aren’t his thing. he does them just fine, fuck you very much, but he doesn’t like ‘em. why would he? they’re some ungodly blend of extremely boring and extremely tense, where nothing happens right up until way too long into it and then everything goes to shit unprompted. it’s rare he ever gets called in on jobs like this- people tend to assume he lacks the temperament for it, for one, and for another he’s too useful to lock away for days on end. it’s only because their suspected target is so insanely volatile and dangerous that it’s the two of them waiting for her to show her ugly face- no one else is even allowed in the perimeter. which is fucking fine, but he just wishes the cops would get their shit together for once and actually have the proof ready by the time they call the pros in so he doesn’t have to wait before he goes in guns blazing. instead they talked some bullshit about how critical of a stage this was and blah blah fifteen years of (obviously mediocre) work had gone into setting this trap, etc etc. the point is that it’s led to katsuki stuck in the world’s most disgusting little apartment, staring out of a splintered window for two-going-on-three days with no one but the world’s most annoying prodigy to keep him company. the place is such a dump they’re sleeping on mats in sleeping bags. it’s like fucking UA summer camp, and at this point he’d take the kidnapping over the waiting.

day one wasn’t so bad, right up until he realized there would be a day two. day two is bad from start to finish. they’re supposed to take turns on watch but there’s fuck all else to do except sit on their phones, and katsuki can only quote tweet so much dumb shit before he gets bored. he can’t talk to anyone outside because of confidentiality bullshit, and there’s no point checking work shit when he can’t do anything from where they are. so it’s either silently watching the warehouse or talking to todoroki, and todoroki is a fucking terrible conversationalist.

the thing with icyhot is this: katsuki doesn’t hate him, okay. like, he hates him, but also not really. they’re, at a push, maybe, sort of, friends. verging on close ones. not that he’d say so, but after the amount of dramatic self-sacrifices and final stands against a joint enemy they’ve endured he can’t really muster the energy to argue otherwise. todoroki’s tolerable, sort of maybe. usually katsuki borderline likes working with him, because if nothing else he’s good at what he does, and they know each other too well to be anything but in sync in the field. if they were doing almost anything else he’d be relieved at the choice of pairing.

they are not, however, doing anything else, and todoroki still fucking sucks at talking like a normal person. when he’d woken katsuki up for his shift of night-watch he’d loomed over him ominously like a fucking ghoul and said, voice belying no humor: “do you think plants can feel pain?”

there’s fucking nothing to talk about. anything interesting is essentially vetoed because it’d inevitably distract them from the whole intent observation thing, and katsuki hates small talk on a normal day but especially when todoroki’s doing his ‘alien attempting earth dialect’ bit and asking him about weather or the tokyo transportation system or whatever. so they just sit in semi-silence and occasionally go on very stupid tangents katsuki is glad no one can witness and remain overall bored out of their fucking skulls.

by day three they’ve already exhausted i spy and also the alphabet game and hangman, and katsuki draws the line at tic-tac-toe. todoroki looks implacable as always but his eye has started twitching a little. katsuki tries to think of literally anything that could plausibly take up their time and not take their eyes off the window, comes up short. twister is not a good idea even ignoring their lack of a board. shop talk is so very tempting, but he’s not losing this villain and wasting two days’ suffering because they get carried away on some long-winded discussion, so that’s not an option either.

“how’s your ear?” todoroki says, and at first katsuki thinks he’s really fucking lost it if he’s started asking after the wellbeing of his individual body parts, but then he remembers the last time they saw each other katsuki was throwing himself into the path of some jackass with a trumpeting quirk who nearly blew out his eardrum, so he guesses half ‘n half’s not entirely insane yet. he shrugs, shifts in his chair.

“fine. couldn’t hear shit from it for like three straight days, though. and my balance was fucked.”

“it hasn’t scarred at all.”

“yeah. lame place for a scar,” katsuki says, flexing his fingers absently. they’re all of them more roughed up than they were at UA, but talent and good healers have kept him mostly intact, give or take a few big nasties like the time he got gutted in first year or his near loss of an eye around graduation. privately he suspects genetics have dealt him a good hand, what with his gene donor’s perfect skin, but then todoroki doesn’t have that excuse and he’s not scarred anywhere ugly except the obvious, though katsuki could point blind to most of the nasties he’s accumulated under his suit.

not that he thinks about what’s under todoroki’s suit. god, he needs to get out of here.

“i don’t know,” todoroki is saying now, thoughtful. “a lot of people have ear-scars, no? from piercings.”

“that’s different,” katsuki says, immediately contrarian, even as he thinks about it. by the warehouse a truck stalls, but then moves on, lessening his momentary excitement. “most people don’t let that shit heal. unless you’re a moron there’s no point getting a hole jabbed through your ear if you’re not sure you want it.”

“would you?” todoroki asks, mildly curious, and taps his ear where katsuki can see him in the window’s reflection. “get a piercing, i mean.”

“what’s it to you?”

todoroki rolls his eyes at him like he’s being pointlessly difficult, which he maybe is a little. “i don’t know. i think it would suit you.”

“yeah?” katsuki sniffs, mollified and trying not to show it. it’s always a mistake to let icyhot know when his obvious ploys are working. “been thinking about it?”

“i can hardly sleep at night for thinking about it,” todoroki deadpans, which makes katsuki scowl and stomp down on the extremely unwarranted flush crawling up his neck in response.

“fuck off. i guess i’d do like one or two.”

“really? you always say no to tattoos.”

“that’s different. i don’t trust some asshole to draw a fucking infinity sign on my knee or whatever. sticking a hole through an ear is hard to fuck up, and you barely register it after. if you get a shitty tattoo you have to think about it all the time.”

“if it’s easy then why don’t you have any?” todoroki asks, but he sounds genuinely curious more than like he’s trying to catch him out, so katsuki thinks about it honestly.

“don’t have the time. ‘s not like i can really afford to pencil in an afternoon to the nearest parlor or whatever just for that.”

“i read you can pierce your ears with a needle.”

“i guess i haven’t fucking thought about it that much, then,” katsuki grumbles, forever irked by todoroki’s smart mouth. problem solver his ass. the guy goes around making problems for everyone.

they sit in silence for a beat, watching the breeze rattle the wooden planks barricading a window opposite them, and then he thinks needle, and does some very quick mental arithmetics to reach the conclusion that todoroki is probably also landing on, judging by the way he blinks when katsuki briefly glances his way.

he thinks about the job, and how close he’d come to throttling todoroki during i spy, and the great dawning nothingness ahead of them for fuck knows how long still. at the very worst, they have to start moving with a needle in his ear.

“pass me your medikit.”

todoroki does, but when katsuki unzips the pack he shifts. “it’d be easier if i did it.”

“it’s not rocket science,” katsuki mutters, considering the needle critically before glancing back out of the window. “'s not like i give a shit about precise location.”

“i’m just saying i wouldn’t have to go in blind. and you can keep watch while i do it.”

“or you can keep watch while i do. same shit.”

todoroki only shakes his head, because unlike some people who shall not be named he is not so incredibly psychosexually attached to offering help where it isn’t wanted. “fine.”

katsuki eyes the window, squints at his ear. tissue’s the best bet- he thinks he could probably manage cartilage fine, but on the off chance they have to drop everything and run he doesn’t want to accidentally snap a bone and start the fight inconvenienced. lobe it is.

“wait,” todoroki says, just when he’s focused, and then reaches over without removing his gaze from the window to press two fingers to the needle, tip going blisteringly red-hot before he releases it. cauterised. their kit’s sterilised anyway, but katsuki grunts his begrudging thanks, repositions himself.

“wait,” todoroki says again, and this time katsuki can’t help but turn to glare at him where he’s still watchfully staring outside.

“fucking what, icyhot?”

“two seconds,” todoroki promises, gaze flickering his way for half a second with something like self-effacing amusement before he turns his eyes dutifully away and reaches his other arm around to pinch his ear, which flares cold so quickly katsuki hisses even as his cheeks heat. fucking weirdo.

“could’ve just said,” he mutters, ignoring his not at all jumpy pulse to refocus on the task at hand as todoroki does that obnoxious lip-twitch thing that means he’s smiling internally.

physics dictates that he keep his wrist at an angle if he wants the needle to come out right, so he does, braces and jabs. it goes so easy he almost doubts his own success, not even the slightest twinge of pain ensuing. he twists for good measure, removes the needle, watches tiny beads of blood emerge from the piercing.

well, that was anticlimactic, katsuki thinks, retrieving an anti-bacterial wipe for the needle, and then pauses, staring at the window.

“motherfucker.”

“what?”

“what the fuck am i supposed to put through this?”

todoroki’s mismatched eyes go gratifyingly wide in the window, and for one spectacularly braindead moment two of the world’s most outstanding pro-heroes stare at one another in a shitty broken window with equal amounts of retroactive dismay.

“um,” todoroki says, or as close to ‘um’ as todoroki will ever say. katsuki wishes dearly he was still of an age where he could throw him through a wall. then his eyes focus elsewhere, sharpening with what could pass as professional focus but is mostly naked relief. “um.”

um in-fucking-deed. by the warehouse, a door has just opened a sliver.

“you owe me a fucking earring,” katsuki declares, but so fast it lacks any aggression, already halfway out the window by the time he finishes speaking, atrophied limbs reviving with an ecstatic chemical burn as fresh air hits their faces.

god. if he ever gets stuck on stake-out duty again he’s sleeping by himself under a parked car or some shit.

they make disgustingly quick work of the fight, in the end, days of pent-up frustration and skull-numbing boredom leaving them so bursting with power that it’s almost embarrassing for the villain, but when the first kow-towing police officer reaches them full of praise and suggestion that they handle another job he has queued up they chorus a ‘no’ so violent the guy actually jumps.

todoroki’s not so bad, katsuki thinks fondly, watching his face slide into frigid blankness with absolutely no idea of how shitless he’s scaring the officers around them. it’s almost enough to make him forget to kick his ass for the enormously shitty banter he’d had to endure vis-a-vis his still-bleeding ear throughout the entire tragically short fight.

almost. not quite. who even knew there was a ‘gay ear’?

#qui parle #qui ecrit #anon #todobaku #bnha #tdbk

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hasgudagudadoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2.6 - A Wish To Be Loved

[Previous] [Table of Contents] [Next]

cw: implied reasons why someone would probably need some therapy

— — —

The front door slammed open and a short figure emerged, short of breath.

“Y’all, I just saw two people earlier and—” she stopped, looking at Azure and Okita sitting on the couch. “What are you two doing here?!”

“Sela??” Azure asked in surprise. “What are you doing here, and with the Grail even?!”

Sela shook her head. “That doesn’t matter, what are you doing inside my house?!”

“Mata let us in, we uh, fell right outside and she kind of heard us,” Azure answered. “But seriously, that thing's dangerous, what are you even doing here with it?!"

"Considering the time period, I believe Sela would actually be the most likely recipient of the Grail, with everyone else having been summoned as a result of the Grail's influence. I strongly suspect this to be the original iteration of her existence, and would not be surprised if Mare is also here as a result—"

"Don't even bring Mare into this," Sela interrupted Ram’s analysis. "I don't know where you're coming from, but that monster can stay as far away from here as possible, I don't even wanna hear her name."

Azure grimaced in response. "...Right, this is all before sie figured out sier gender, that's uh, that's a whole thing, right."

Sela squinted at Azure. "What would you even know about any of this, huh? I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

"Ah, I guess you could say that I'm uh, your older distant half-sibling from the future...?"

Sela stared for a bit, processing. "And... I'm guessing you're here to stop me?"

"Peacefully, hopefully, but yeah."

Sela shook her head. "I'm sorry, but blood-relative or not I don't think I can allow for that. Do you have any idea what this thing does??"

"I believe we have plenty idea," Okita replied, "but go ahead and tell us, what are you using it for?"

Sela threw both her hands in the air, gesturing around the room and towards the other residents. "I've got all this now!! See? I got a nice happy family here, everything is fine, I'm safe, and everything is okay! I have people I can talk to and rely on and they all care about me and I'm actually loved here!!"

A moment passed as Azure just looked at Sela, before letting out a sigh and standing up from the couch.

"Unfortunately, I don't think the Holy Grail is an optimal substitute for therapy, but I do understand why you would take it regardless. However..." Azure started, conjuring her glaive in her hand. "...That still doesn't change that we have a timeline to fix, and that we need that Grail to do so. The uh, entire future of our life kind of hinges on it, so a peaceful resolution would be preferred if possible."

Solace set her tea on the coffee table and rose from her chair as well. "I understand your intentions, and I would also prefer to avoid unnecessary violence, however I do not believe I can allow you to cause harm to Sela regardless of your goals."

"Even if you want to fight me for this," Sela spoke, "I think you forget who all you're going up against here."

Okita looked at the room as she stood, noting Mata Hari beside her, Solace and Cursed Arm in front of her, and a dual-katana wielding child adjacent from her, before drawing her own blade.

"Even if the odds are slim, I will still take my chances. Now, will you help us restore our future or stand in our way?"

"I'm not giving up this life so easily," Sela responded, drawing her swords. "Mata Hari?"

Mata gave an affirmative noise, joining Sela by her side. "Just leave it to me, Master~!"

Both Azure and Okita made the mistake of looking towards her, however, as Mata Hari simply smiled as pure a smile as one could ever witness, a soft and uplifting giggle resounding through the air as she looked towards the two with the sunniest eyes known in history.

"There's no need to worry, just bind together, open up, and drown in my embrace ♡"

Everything melted away as each word repeated itself, the warm image of Mata Hari's sweet smile and reassuring words unforgettable as neither Azure nor Okita were fully aware of their surroundings anymore. Only thoughts of soft embracing arms mattered as they both fell into the warm comforting bliss of Mata Hari's Noble Phantasm, and were graciously tossed back outside onto the front lawn, surrounded by the killing dolls they tried so hard to avoid before.

#[plot]#storybook #chapter 2 #chapter finale #enjoy :))

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

Life at stake

A/N: Sup, my name is Khaz. So I was binging Kakegurui lately (and rewatching one too many times), and then watched the ep where Mary’s bday was revealed just the other day, looked at my laptop calendar, and went, “woah- it’s Mary’s Birthday?!” So I was super excited to make my first Kakegurui fic a Mary bday fic, but then exams hit me like a truck so...

I love Mary. So Happy birthday Mary. My first Kakegurui fic goes to you. (even if it’s late lmao so I’ll make it a multi-chap)

Self indulgent af because... Because.

This. Might suck. Not the best author. Regardless, hope you at least...

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Kirari continued twirling the coin ‘round her finger. It was getting boring in the office lately. She needed something. Some toy to mess around with. The recent days had been rather uneventful for her corporation. Nothing interesting had popped up, and all the business chains under her rule were working rather smoothly.

In short,

It sucked.

High school was definitely better.

Sayaka was by her side, ever faithful in her duties as she filed the last of today’s paperwork. Kirari eyed her expression, watching Sayaka bite her lip, a sign she was contemplating something. The ex-president of Hyakkaou guessed it was about whether or not she should get a head start on tomorrow’s scheduled responsibilities. A good insurance move for the unexpected future. How logical of her. How rational. How very Sayaka.

Ah. But Kirari was her opposite. Always had been. And much unlike her secretary, she adored the unexpected future.

You never know what could happen in so few seconds.

Be it life or death.

It filled her with a pleasurable electricity coursing through her whole body just from the thought of the Destiny stringing her along to its predetermined design. It reminded her of that one match of Fate she had with one Jabami Yumeko all those years ago- okay, maybe like... four years ago, but that was some time in the past, right?

Speaking of Yumeko...

Kirari watched Sayaka berate the girl as she sat on-yes, on, not at- the conference table just across from her now-boss, Kirari. Why she was here, well...

Yumeko was simply too uninterested in college, but unwilling to just settle down to do nothing. Thus, upon graduating from Hyakkaou, she had accepted a modified version of her “life plan” in high school that her relative had offered.

It was better than anything else to her at the time. More interesting than going to college or back home, Yumeko had told Kirari. So the girl was found working for her, managing one of the teal-eyed woman’s underground Casinos. That was it. No other conditions attached. Who was Yumeko to reject such a generous offer that was right in line with her one true love, gambling?

Okay, so maybe Kirari had been the one to scout after her and laid her bet of being Yumeko’s patron for a lifetime of gambling ahead. Yumeko didn’t actually find her offer all that appealing at the beginning, but then a bet had been set in place. A bet with a risk of whether or not this new business would go under or if it would flourish, regardless of Yumeko’s presence.

One billion dollars. If the casino couldn’t make that much profit in a week without the girl, but could with her, then Kirari would win, and Yumeko was hers forever. If it succeeded, Kirari could not touch her. Yumeko would be gone from her grasp, out of her paradise aquarium.

Of course Yumeko agreed to it.

She loved a good bet. Especially if it was one as intense as the ones she’d shared with Kirari. Kirari loved good, unpredictable wagers too. You could win it all, or lose it all. That was in gambling’s nature. But well, Kirari never gambled games she’d lose. Not on purpose at least.

And that was how she’d gotten Yumeko aboard in her little aquarium once more.

For what it was worth, Yumeko had been able to offer her the entertainment she desired. However, the more successful their whole group had grown, the less Kirari was able to enjoy messing with her very competent, and now very busy staff.

Staring at Yumeko looking over her work seriously despite being in such a position on her table was becoming dull, Kirari getting used to its oddness.

Why was everyone in this room so dedicated and serious in work?

Couldn’t they offer Kirari some semblance of entertainment right now?

Who else could she bother... ah- Ririka. Her dear twin sister. Who had just walked into the room. Surely she’d care enough to save her own flesh and blood, the spitting image of herself from the claws of death by utter boredom.

“Riri-”

“Not now, Rari. I have things to do.” The girl had her brows knitted in a frown, and Kirari suspected that the meeting she was sent to attend did not go as well as they hoped.

Guess that’s another thing for her to smooth out tomorrow. Something to spice up her bland work life. Somehow. But that was for tomorrow.

For today, however, now what... what else could she...

“Excuse me? I’m Hanatemari from HR. I have some files I’d like to have looked over for the recent proposed project.”

A rather fluffy-looking girl was bid welcome into the vast office, Sayaka approaching her and handling the business, as per usual, leaving Kirari to sulk in nothingness even more.

She decided to occupy her mind with this new arrival, eyeing her from head to toe discreetly. Hmm? There was something about the her... something familiar... Hanatemari, Hanatemari...- Oh.

Kirari internally grinned, memory clearing. Hanatemari Tsuzura-san. Hoho. Since when had she been working for Kirari? This was exciting! This was interesting! This was something unforeseen! Now maybe if Kirari could just get her to-

“Thank you very much. I’ll be taking my leave now.” The girl, before Kirari could even utter a single word and get up from her chair, had already began to clean up, and turned on her heel, walking across the vast room heading for the door.

Ahh. And there went her last resort. Would anyone be willing to just take this terrible monotony of a work routine away?

Her final hope, little Hanatemari was slipping away! Kirari would have stopped her. Kirari could have. But she was leaving now, and would it be odd for Kirari to stop her? But since when had she cared about such a thing? That’s right! She didn’t! And so she would get up right now and chat the poor employee up and try to fish for something, anything of any worth.

Before she could do that however, the girl seemed to have taken a turn to have a word with Ririka. She would have frowned, but then a voice at the back of her mind told her to watch; to observe the girl’s interaction with her currently perplexed sibling, showing her some papers that made her sigh at first, but then oddly enough, suddenly light up in poorly concealed excitement.

Oh?

“Yes. As Igarashi-san has said, I will be in direct supervision of this project. Thank you for coming all this way to show me this-” Ririka attempted to speak with her usual leveled tone of professionalism, but Kirari knew her twin well enough to notice sudden brightness in her voice, and the immediate disappearance of her earlier displeasure.

Now Kirari’s attention was definitely caught. It wouldn’t be fun to remain a spectator then, now would it? Not when fate’s dice had begun to roll once more.

“Hello.” She cut in between them, an unreadable smile on her lips as both ladies showed their surprise in their own ways.

Tsuzura had visibly jumped, almost dropping her folder and clipboard, while Kirari smirked at being able to get a flinch out of Ririka.

“M-m-ma’am! Madame! I... why- I’m...” For someone supposedly in Human Resources, this girl couldn’t hold much of a conversation. Kirari was a little worried about that department now.

Or maybe it was because it was Kirari that she acted this way? The sadistic little demon in her grinned, pleased.

“And what is it that you have right there?”

“O-oh! N-nothing someone as noble as you should trouble yourself with.” The girl squeaked out quickly, papers held tighter to her chest.

“But of course, I should trouble myself with this. This is my company, and those seem to be some documents related to a new project, I heard? Do tell me what it’s all about, Miss...” Kirari trailed off, waiting for the girl to introduce herself.

“Hanatemari. I am Hanatemari Tsuzura.”

But of course, Kirari already knew that.

“Lovely name. And what do you have right there, Hanatemari-san?”

“Oh! Um...” Kirari smiled as the papers slowly inched their way towards her itching hands. What could they possibly contain-

“Just the profiles of incoming interns and trial members.” Ririka quickly snatched the thick folder away, mixing it in with her own. “I’m sure Sayaka has approved of them for you, and I do too. You needn’t worry, dear sister. This is part of our jobs.”

Now this was suspicious. Ririka never really hid much from her. The only time she’d do it was when... ara?

This.

This was it. This was what Kirari had been wanting.

With Ririka’s sudden, careless actions, a few sheets of paper had spilled out the bottom of the files and onto the floor, one particular face-up profile causing a grin to spread wide on Kirari’s face.

Blonde hair, shimmering golden eyes, and that signature scowl of headstrong defiance that Kirari absolutely loved to coax out from this particular girl.

Ah, of course. The one who despised her so, and was one of the people who always gave her a thrill. She never disappointed Kirari, and always entertained her. She was confident, capable, faultily prideful and cocky at times, and was a tsundere.

Yes.

The perfect amusement. Ever the perfect toy.

Kirari couldn’t help but voice her desires. Her need to bring back this little fishy into her lovely, deathly aquarium.

“I want Saotome. I want to make her mine.”

---------

If a few papers on the floor were already enough for Sayaka to consider it “a mess”, then all of those applications now dropped and mixed together on the floor surely made her head hurt, Kirari assumed. Maybe she should help clear it up later if she wanted to maybe not sleep on the couch again.

“What did you just...” Ririka began, but failed to continue. Her nails dug into her palm, teeth clenched and brows furrowed.

Kirari raised a brow at this reaction.

She vaguely registered the sound of a pen clicking, before there was the tap of the plastic onto the table surface.

“What a bold declaration.” Yumeko suddenly stood up, walking towards the gathered group, eyes hidden behind bangs. “To say you want Mary-san to be...” A pause as Yumeko got all up in Kirari’s face, eyes that dangerous red glint as she breathed the last word into Kirari’s ear. “Yours.”

Oh, that delicious chill that ran up her spine.

Mary Saotome. She wasn’t even here, and yet her name had so quickly already stirred up quite the fun. As she thought, Kirari truly needed her here.

Even Tsuzura had an odd tint to her gaze, a frown marring her soft features.

Hmm.

Kirari was certain she knew why they responded the way they did. It was all too obvious, and all the more exciting. Just... weren’t these girls misunderstanding something?

Well, it didn’t matter. If misunderstanding meant an end to her daily gray, then Kirari would utilize it to its fullest extent.

And what better way to do that than...

“It seems as though you disagree with me. Don’t tell me... you all want Saotome Mary to yourselves?”

Only Yumeko vocally confirmed in her usual light-hearted, ‘but of course!’, with that deceiving cheery smile; but Kirari knew the other two shared the sentiment.

“Well then. How about...

We gamble for her.”

Yes, Kirari savored those burning gazes, the exhilaration coursing within her. They all looked way too up for it. It was perfect!

Ah, gambling your life away in high risk games was always a pleasure.

But well, this time it wasn’t Kirari’s own life. She should probably apologize to the girl once she sees her, for betting “ownership” over her.

Meh. She’d cross that bridge when Mary got here.

For now,

Mary Saotome’s life...

is at stake.

//-//-//-//-//

“A-aaa...ACHOO-! Ugh...whad da heck...” Mary reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, clicking her tongue when she couldn’t feel it there. She began to grumble, hands rummaging her bag for possibly a pack of tissues... that were non -existent as well.

Just as she was about to curse the heavens, a clean cloth was held out to her. She took it grateful to the person who she knew could be no other than her usual companion on campus.

“Thanks, Suzui.”

“Always welcome, Mary.” The brunette lad replied with a smile. “You really can’t get used to my first name, huh?” Ryota chuckled as Mary rolled her eyes at it.

“It feels weird and uncomfortable if I suddenly call you so familiarly like that.”

“And yet you’re fine with me calling you ‘Mary’?” He asked.

“Well, it’s my name, isn’t it? Everyone calls me that.”

“If you say so.” Ryota shrugged.

The pair continued walking in silence, the afternoon sun beginning to set in the visible horizon.

While Mary usually preferred this quiet between them, today she would’ve have liked it better if Ryota just... chatted her up like he always did. Lately, her mind had been swirling with a lot of thoughts, and she kind of wanted a distraction from them now.

It wasn’t like they were terrible thoughts, or things that tortured her psyche to a horrible degree that she’d be left sleepless and distraught. No.

They were rather plain, actually.

The musings of her mind were simple, and maybe related to all her insecurities and complexes growing up that had all but exploded when she was in high school.

Why those thoughts and feelings were coming back to her years later, she had no clue.

What she did know was that Mary liked to think she wasn't special.

Odd thing for her to think about when her talk was usually about being a winner, and now wanting to be looked down upon; wanting to be equals with her insane best friend; being someone who wanted to claim her life for herself as her own.

For someone so ambitious and prideful-she was self-aware of this-, she didn’t think this train of thought existed within her mind.

Looking at herself objectively, however, Mary knew she wasn’t really all that spectacular or gifted. Saotome Mary was nothing special.

Okay no, not that she wasn't special. She was, well... Not average, at least.

But compared to the other intense gamblers at school name she was at least.. Sane..r. than most of them.

And like the normal person she claimed to be, Mary went to college. Just like anyone her age would after graduating from high school.

So yes, if she really thought about it, she was going about, using her free will to choose the most mundane life route. Still beats following a pre-writen life plan, though.

If one were to talk about special- Crazy special, crazy and special, now that, that was Jabami Yumeko.

Yumeko, and the Momobami clan, and fucking Kirari, especially. Mary shivered at the thought of the latter. It was no secret that she hated her guts. They sort of got along? Maybe? But she would still sock her if she had the chance.

And yet, as much as Mary claimed to loathe the woman, she had found herself on the long list of applicants to Kirari’s very corporation.

Great.

Mary found herself registering as an intern for their a new branch of the employee services. A new project that Tsuzura- her dear old friend who she’d been reunited with recently, had shown her; and upon finding out Mary’s course, excitedly assisted her with the paperwork.

Mary sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed after all.

“It still surprises me.” Suzui suddenly cut into her thoughts, meeting Mary’s curious gaze as they crossed a bridge on their way home, Mary spotting the building of their shared apartment in the distance.

It wasn’t as though they were in any sort of engagement other than being friends. Mary just felt that it would be better to split the bill with someone else while in college, and maybe living with someone would help ease some other kinds of life burdens- heck she didn’t know. She wasn’t loaded like all their other friends, neither was she working for someone as filthy rich as Kirari-fricking-Momobami.

There were weird rumors that had floated around them for the first year of Uni, with how often they were together, and apparently living under one roof. Almost. Mary had to explain that they had separate bedrooms and bathrooms. However, Mary was very keen on making it known that she was very much not into Ryota, and very very much gay.

At most, Ryota was her platonic husband, or something. Or dog. Whichever sounded better.

But back to the issue that had just flown over Mary’s head.

“What surprises you?” She responded to him naturally, as if she wasn’t just thinking about their whole arrangement and a dozen other things instead of replying to him right away.

“That you’d choose to take this course.”

“Hah? You saying it don’t suit me, Mr. Commerce?” Mary challenged with a glare.

Ryota’s eyes widened, hands held our defensively in front of him. “No! No, that’s not it at all! Actually...” He gave her a once over. “It might suit you a little too much. The uniform.”

“Oi, creep, what were you just thinking of, huh?” Mary growled, slapping his shoulder. “Stop treating my uniform like cosplay, gosh.”

“First of all, Yumeko was the one that called it that. Second, you have to admit, it almost looks like you are-geh! Mary, we’ve talked about violence!”

“Can it, mom.” Mary grumbled, walking up the steps of their apartment complex, already fishing for the keys in her jeans pocket. “You deserved that one.”

“Okay, but nursing, Mary. You. Someone as violent as you, who causes pain. You being a nurse- please put your fist down. This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

Mary sighed, other hand pushing their door open. “Whatever. You all make fun of me and constantly ask me why. I told you why so many times!”

Ryota laughed at Mary’s expense as the girl continued grumbling about judgmental friends not appreciating her goodwill.

“I mean. You all are wack.”

Ryota gasped,a little offended. “Says you-”

Mary chose to ignore that.

“Itsuki somehow keeps hurting her nails lately, someone like Sayaka looks like she could take a break from stress or else she’d collapse. Girls is bordering insanity, I tell you. Yumeko just... doesn’t give a shit about her health in general. I swear, if she gets one more fever this week, Imma-”

Mary inhaled to calm her nerves. Ranting about Yumeko would only stress her more. Speaking of which, she should message her about her meds later.

Continuing on, “Ririka can’t cook a substantial meal to save her life.” Mary complained, remembering the time she came over to the twins’ Condo, only to see stacks of various takeout on the counter. Sayaka had been gone on a business trip for about two weeks, and Mary didn’t think these two were the type to feast on fast food, of all things.

They wanted to ‘try out commoner food’, as Kirari put it, a teasing smirk on her face as she looked down on Mary again.

“She needs to learn to cook healthier! Essential life skills!”

“She has chefs for that-”

“Irrelevant!”

“It’s actually pretty relevant.” Ryota pointed out. “And what does that even have to do with nurs-”

“Anyway! I’m doing this because I want to, and because you all are... i-important to me or whatever.” Mary suddenly turned bashful. “Health is wealth and all that shit.” Her cheeks were dusted red as she turned around, marching towards the kitchen for a glass of water to cool the burning feeling overcoming her. “And because med would take too long before one of you fools accidentally kills yourself.” Mary added before Ryota could ask anymore questions. That last statement, she shook her head, believing that it really was plausible.

With all they’d been through, it wasn’t unbelievable at all.

Ryota smiled, raising his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay. Got it. Will never ask about it again.”

“That’s what you assholes always say.” Mary growled, looking ready to pounce again before it was cut off by a sudden chill running up her spine, bringing about another strong sneeze that shook her whole frame. “Gosh, what is up with today?”

“How ironic. Our little nurse is getting sick?”

“Fuck no, screw off, Suzui.” Mary barked.

“Hmm...” Ryota rubbed his chin with his fingers, pretending to be in thought. “Maybe someone is talking about you behind your back?” He jokingly provided.

“Ugh, if I had to say...” She sniffed. “It feels like my life is in danger. Or like someone's looking at me like a "thing" again. Ugh... It feels like all those times with Kirari. Or Yumeko... or both. Are their ghosts haunting me now?”

“Don’t just go off killing our friends like that.” Ryota scolded, approaching Mary and gripping her shoulders from behind before pushing her towards the direction of their rooms. “Maybe getting changed into warmer clothes will help.”

“Maybe.” Mary began walking on her own just a few steps before reaching her room. “Ayt, see ya then.”

“Bye.”

Before they could both enter their respective quarters, their phones went off, a message from the same person, they figured.

Sure enough, the sender couldn’t be any more familiar to them.

“Guess I’ll just grab a coat then.” Mary sighed. “Can’t really turn down an invitation from her.” She chuckled.

“You’re right about that.” Ryota shook his head, amused.

“Let’s go meet her then.” Mary finalized, to which the boy nodded in agreement. “Come on Suzui. Time to meet up with Yumeko.”

Somehow, deep down, Mary had a bad feeling.

She wasn’t special. So she hoped this meeting would be as normal as normal gets.

Somehow.

#kakegurui #kakeguri xx #kakegurui twin #mary saotome #kirari momobami #ririka momobami #ryota suzui #yumeko jabami #tsuzura hanatemari #fanfic #future au

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annerbhp · 4 years

Text

Lucky

- part one

- part two

- part three

- part four

- part five

- part six

- part seven

- part eight

Part Nine

Harry can confidently say that he has never passed quite so pleasant of an afternoon on the Hogwarts Express in his life.

And it’s not just because he gets to spend a great deal of it kissing Ginny.

Kissing Ginny. He still has a hard time believing it, despite the fact that she is still sitting right next to him, her arm pressed against his. Solid and real.

It’s something he’d been imagining and uncomfortably dreaming about for a while now, but not something he ever had hopes of actually coming true. And the real thing is so much better than his sodding pillow. So, so much better.

They haven’t spent the entire time kissing, of course, just as content to chat aimlessly, and for all Ginny is sometimes a complete mystery to him, they never seem to lack things to talk about. She also doesn’t always agree with him, having a way of asking him questions that make him pause and consider, but not feel like she’s nagging him, and he isn’t really sure why that is yet.

Even when they aren’t though, like right now, he doesn’t feel panic like he has to come up with something. They aren’t kissing or talking, just sitting here, and it’s strangely…great.

Like it’s maybe too good to be true.

“What?” Ginny asks.

Harry shakes himself, realizing he’s just staring down at her, and he really needs to quit doing that. Especially with their imminent arrival approaching. And holidays at the Burrow. For two weeks. With her entire family.

That thought helps wipe whatever ridiculous expression he’s doubtlessly sporting at the moment. “Nothing,” he says.

“Hmm,” she says, like she doesn’t buy that for a moment, but she also doesn’t press.

There’s a knock on the compartment door just a moment before it stars sliding open. “I’m coming in,” Hermione announces.

“Yeah, we can see that,” Harry says.

“Oh,” Hermione says, glancing at them. “I just wasn’t sure…”

“Don’t worry,” Ginny says, voice overly bright. “We finished with our illegal potion-making at least, what?” She turns to Harry. “An hour ago?”

Harry nods. “Sold them all too. Hope that first year doesn’t misuse that Draught of Living Death.”

Ginny shakes her head solemnly. “That would be a shame.”

“Or mix it up with the love potion,” he says.

Ginny stifles a laugh, turning her face towards his shoulder, and Harry suddenly feels like he could take on a thousand dementors.

Hermione just sighs, grumbling under her breath about how unbearable couples are.

Ginny looks up at him, eyes still sparkling with mirth, and he nearly leans over and kisses her.

“I should probably get back,” she says.

Almost against his will, his hand tightens around hers, and it’s only then he realizes her hand has ended up in his at some point and hasn’t left.

Ginny’s eyes dart towards Hermione, and he supposes she feels they’ve tortured her enough for one day. “I should go say goodbye to Smita and Tobias and get my things.”

“Yeah,” he says, knowing it would be petty to make her stay any longer. “I guess I’ll see you on the platform.”

She nods. “Yes, you will,” she says, and then she’s lifting up and giving him a fleeting kiss, just to the side of his mouth, like this is something they might do now.

She pulls away, looking a little self-conscious, and all Harry can do is look back at her, certain that stupid look is on his face again.

She gets to her feet, her hand squeezing his once before pulling free. She looks over at Hermione. “I hope you have a nice break, Hermione.”

She looks up at Ginny. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to a little peace and quiet.”

Ginny laughs. “I can only imagine.” They regard each other for a moment. “Well, happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Hermione says with a nod.

Ginny turns for the door, smiling at Harry before reaching for the latch.

He doesn’t think he’s imagining that she takes an extra moment before opening the door, her shoulders squaring and chin lifting. He only catches a glimpse of her face as she leaves, just enough to see that any warmth or softness in her expression have completely disappeared.

Harry thinks he hears someone say her name in the distance before the door slides shut, cutting off all sound from the hall.

* * *

The platform is loud with crowds of people, steam billowing up over the sound of various pets complaining against too many hours spent in cages. Calls of ‘Mum? Where are you?’ and ‘Dad! Over here!’ and ‘See you next term!’

They find Hermione’s parents first, Harry saying goodbye to her before glancing around for the Weasleys. Ron is already with them when Harry finds them.

Molly sweeps him up into a hug, Arthur shaking his hand.

“Now where is Ginny?” Molly asks, looking around.

“You seen her, Harry?” Ron asks, with an all-too-innocent tone that tells Harry he clearly saw his sister come down to the Gryffindor end of the train. Though why he would say that in front of his parents, of all people…

“Um,” Harry says, panicking.

“Neither of you saw her?” Molly asks.

“I walked right past you, Ron, at least twice,” Ginny says, appearing as if from nowhere. “Though I can understand why you might not have seen me, distracted as you were.”

With Lavender attached to his face, Harry assumes she means.

Molly frowns, glancing at her son. “Why were you distracted, Ron? What have you been getting up to?”

Ron sputters, ears turning red.

“Oh, nothing,” Ginny says breezily, as if her threat to expose Ron’s relationship with Lavender hadn’t been delivered loud and clear. “He was just really into a chess match. I think he probably took a small fortune off his dormmates.”

“Ron,” Molly says, clucking her tongue. “What have I said about gambling? Did you brothers’ experience at the World Cup teach you nothing?”

“I promise, Mum,” Ron says, looking relieved. “I wasn’t doing it for money.”

Ginny lets out a quiet huff of amusement and then crosses over to Arthur, giving him a giant squeeze. Arthur lifts her up off her feet a little bit, Ginny laughing and smacking his arm.

“Dad, put me down!”

He drops her back to her feet, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, clearly content to have mortified his daughter just the right amount.

“Shall we get moving?” Arthur asks.

They collect up their things, pressing close as they line up to go out through the barrier. At one point, Ginny brushes up against Harry, grinning at him, his stomach doing a silly little swoop that nearly sends him crashing into the wrong pillar.

Once safely out on the other side of the barrier, Tonks and Kingsley are waiting for them.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she says with a grin, snapping a giant pink wad of bubble gum.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Harry asks. It’s not that he isn’t happy to see them, it just seems a bit overkill.

Kingsley smiles at him. “Just being cautious.”

“Right,” Harry says, the whole world seeming to rush back in at once.

***

In the cars provided by the Ministry, Ginny sits between Tonks and her mum, Harry, Ron and her dad sitting opposite, with Kingsley in the front with the driver. They’ll likely get home in half as much time this way.

Harry, of course, seems to think it’s a giant imposition on everyone, like it’s a lot of fuss over nothing. Ginny isn’t sure if it is or not. Tonks and Kingsley hardly seem the sort for overreaction. But then, there’s a lot she doesn’t know about the situation.

Ginny amuses herself by talking with Tonks, even as she is more than aware of the strange stony silence between Ron and Harry, the two of them giving each other looks when the other doesn’t see.

It’s enough to make her wonder exactly what kind of conversations they’ve had about Harry dating Ginny.

Dating. That still seems completely unreal to her. What is that even going to look like?

Harry looks up, catching her staring, giving her a fleeting smile before darting a look at her parents, as if wondering if they’ll see.

Ginny sighs.

In no time at all, they’re pulling up to the Burrow, unloading their things and saying goodbye to the aurors. Ginny runs her things up to her room, the space feeling familiar and yet too small somehow, the way it always does when she first comes back.

She takes the time to unpack everything, telling herself she’s just being responsible and not that she’s trying to buy herself time.

Two things have become abundantly clear this afternoon. One, Harry is clearly less than comfortable with the situation. And two, Ron is planning to get as much mileage out of last night as possible. Ginny suspects her warning shot back on the train platform will only go so far. Ron may very well decide short term payoff is worth his long-term misery, stupid sod. Which will only make Harry more miserable.

Only made clearer when it’s time to sit down at the dinner table, Ron and Harry having some sort of an unspoken staring contest. Like Harry might try to sit next to her or something. Like Ron is both egging him on and warning him against it. Merlin.

Ginny solves the problem by sitting down next to her father, leaving Harry and Ron to sit across from her like usual. She tries to glare at Ron, but he is deliberately not looking at her.

Harry is the one who is constantly looking around at everyone like any one of them might attack him at any moment. Like he’s really beginning to regret the entire thing.

In that moment, Ginny can see two long weeks of awkwardness ahead of them. That will only get worse as more and more of her brothers arrive. They probably should have spent a little less time on the train kissing and a little more time discussing how they were going to approach this.

Molly finally sits down with the rest of them, sighing a bit as she gets off her feet. “So how was the Christmas party?” she asks Ginny. “Were the robes alright?”

It’s hard to believe that was only last night. “They were great, Mum. You outdid yourself.”

Molly tries to demur but look really pleased.

“Harry went to the party too, you know,” Ron helpfully supplies, clearly hoping to make them both squirm as much as possible, the git. One would think he wanted his parents to know about Lavender. Like any of them have the tiniest hope of no news making its way out of Hogwarts to one of the many, many Weasleys.

“Oh,” Molly says, looking at Harry with a fond smile. “Did you enjoy yourself, dear?”

Harry looks like he’s about to swallow his tongue. “Um, yeah,” he says. “It was, uh, nice.”

Ginny can’t help but make a small sound of amusement at his word choice, and he looks up at her in alarm.

“It was fun,” he amends, like he’s scared he’s offended her, or made her think he hadn’t had a good time. “Really, really fun.”

Ron opens his mouth, no doubt ready to add to Harry’s discomfort, maybe mention how late Harry had come back to the dorms, and Ginny’s had just about enough of this.

“We went together,” she says, speaking over Ron. Cutting him off at the pass is definitely the quickest way to deal with this. She will not let him make them all miserable for sodding weeks.

Harry gives her a surprised look, like he wasn’t expecting her to just blurt it out like that.

“You and Harry?” Molly asks, immediately picking up on the blood in the water.

Ginny doesn’t reply, just holds Harry’s gaze, hoping he realizes that this is really the easiest way. Or maybe just giving him a chance to back out. Because part of her is wondering if he’ll deny it, play it off as something they did as friends, if he’d hoped to keep it secret or something. Maybe despite everything, he isn’t really interested in anything more than—

“Yes,” Harry says, voice forceful enough to cut into her thoughts. “We went together.”

Ron’s eyes are wide, as if he can’t believe they just admitted it like that.

Arthur looks up from his dinner as if he hadn’t really been paying attention until now, clearly trying to catch up.

It’s Molly who looks between them, as if trying to ferret out each and every clue. “How lovely,” she eventually says.

“It was,” Ginny says, still looking at Harry.

He smiles, his shoulders relaxing, like maybe he’d expected to get chucked out of the house or something. “Yeah.”

Ginny smiles back.

“So, Ron,” Molly says, looking across the table at her son. “About this gambling…”

Ron lets out a groan of complaint. “Mum!”

#lucky #annerbfic

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 25: Martin Prime

“Well, she was right about one thing,” Jon said dryly, a moment or two after they pulled away from the curb. “I definitely don’t care much for the original Helen Richardson.”

Martin forced a smile, although he knew his heart wasn’t in it. “Our Helen said that, did she?”

“When I was in her domain. Or, well, when I was on her doorstep, anyway. She told me I wouldn’t have—how did she put it? I wouldn’t have liked ‘Helen Classic’ all that much.” Jon sighed. “I’ll give the Distortion credit for that much, anyway. She—it—never really lied to us.”

Martin hummed and turned his face in the direction of the window. “She didn’t need to. Why lie when the truth would disorientate just as well?”

“That’s a fair point. God knows our world was confusing enough as it was. It was never very hard to get us—well, me, I suppose—turned around just by presenting me with a truth I’d never considered before.” Jon went quiet, but it was the sort of quiet he usually got when there was something he wasn’t saying and really ought to.

Ordinarily, Martin would have pried at him, tried to prod him to open up and just be honest, but right about then, he was just too tired. Not physically, mentally. Partly it was the edge of navigating a new place while blind. He’d been at one time intimately familiar with the Archives, and he’d had at least passing familiarity with both Tim’s house and the tunnels, back before. But he’d never been to the house they’d just toured before, had no frame of reference, and he’d decided to go without the cane despite Jon’s objections—he was still sort of learning how to use it properly, since it was mostly trial-and-error on his part, and he’d also got it in his head that Helen would probably be the sort of person to look down on someone visibly disabled like that. The fact that he strongly suspected he was right wasn’t helping his mental energy levels. He’d spent the last—God, four months? Had it actually been that long?—surrounded by people he knew, trusted, and loved, for varying definitions of love, and who reciprocated those feelings. Helen Richardson was the first person he’d interacted with outside of the Archival team, and he hadn’t been prepared for the way she’d acted around him. Around them, really, and he wasn’t sure if it was Jon’s appearance or the fact that they were two men in a relationship or both. That, at least, was something he was well used to—he’d been out since he was fourteen and Jon was by no means his first boyfriend, although he hadn’t really dated much since starting to work at the Institute—but it didn’t make it any less upsetting, or exhausting.

And despite that, despite the fact that she was objectively not a particularly nice person, Martin felt a weariness settle over him as he realized they probably weren’t going to be able to save her. They’d known they probably couldn’t prevent every horrible thing that had happened to the people they knew, of course, but both Jon and Martin were determined to do what they could. And since Helen’s initial statement had been rather…imprecise about how long after her experience it had been before she decided (or, as they’d later learned, was pushed) to come to the Institute and give her statement, they’d decided to see what they could do to warn her, as best they could. It probably wasn’t a surprise that it hadn’t worked. Martin didn’t need any special powers, or indeed the ability to see her face, to know that she’d been deeply skeptical of Jon’s questions about the door. He believed her when she said she hadn’t seen it—Jon had said from the beginning that the Distortion had been lucky to grab her on the first go—but he’d kind of hoped she would at least be on the alert for it, and he somehow didn’t think that was going to be the case. The Spiral was going to target her, and now Martin wondered if they’d inadvertently drawn its attention to her. God knew they’d accelerated enough other things in the timeline.

There was also something else preying on his mind, something fairly major, but he knew better than to bring it up.

Finally, Jon spoke again, in a voice so soft Martin almost couldn’t hear it over the engine. “She was selective about what truths she told me, though. It was easier to remember that when I wasn’t alone.”

Even though he knew it wasn’t meant to be a censure of him, Martin felt a stabbing of guilt in his stomach, and he had to swallow hard before he could answer. “You know I wouldn’t have—”

“I know,” Jon said immediately. Martin felt his touch on the back of his hand and instinctively laced their fingers together. “I could have…I’m not blaming you. I didn’t even realize how hard it was until I was in her domain.”

“Alone,” Martin reminded him. That was the sticking point. Jon wouldn’t have been alone when he faced down Helen if he hadn’t realized how badly Martin didn’t want him to see what his domain was like…or more accurately, what Martin in his domain was like.

“I could have waited for you. I could have gone into your domain and tried to find you. I could have taken the path that avoided Helen entirely and dealt with the spiders. I had options, Martin, and I chose to take the option that led me through Helen’s domain alone. That’s not on you.” Jon forestalled any reply Martin might have had by lifting their joined hands and kissing the back of Martin’s gently. “I don’t care what your mother said to you. You don’t bear the responsibility for anyone but yourself.”

Martin managed a smile. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” The smile in Jon’s voice was audible. “I love you, too.”

They lapsed into silence for a while. Martin almost thought that was the end of it, until Jon spoke up again. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Martin repeated, although he was pretty sure he knew what Jon meant.

“Martin. I don’t need the Eye’s power to know that there’s something on your mind.”

Martin considered denying it, but in his heart of hearts he knew he wasn’t going to do that. They were trying so hard to communicate, and they’d been doing really well at it. He wasn’t going to break that now. Best to just say it and get it over with.

“That took a bit more out of me than I thought it would,” he admitted. “Not just dealing with—pre-Distortion Helen, or, you know, trying to maneuver around a space I didn’t know without being able to see it—”

“I told you to bring your cane.”

“I know, but she was having enough trouble being civil to us as it was. Why make it worse? Not like it would have helped all that much.” Martin sighed. “That’s really only part of it, though. Not even the most significant part, if I’m being honest.” He bit his lip. “I just…I didn’t realize how much I wanted that.”

There was a short pause before Jon spoke, sounding confused. “The house? I-I mean, we can probably buy it, if you really want to.”

This time, Martin’s smile was at least genuine, if small. “Look, Peter Lukas might be a bit oblivious when it comes to technology, and he might have more money than he’ll spend in a lifetime, but even he’d notice a sudden payout of two and a half million pounds to a real estate firm.”

Jon snorted with obvious amusement. “Probably closer to three by the time Helen was done working us over.”

“Point still stands. Anyway, it’s not the house I’m talking about.”

“Then what is it?”

Martin took a deep breath. “It’s just—I never thought about a future for us. I mean, yes, of course I knew by the time we’d been in Scotland for a couple weeks that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. I-it’s just, well, once the world ended? I never really thought about the rest of our lives actually being that long. Yeah, we had the plan to stop Jonah Magnus and save the world and turn things back the way they were, but—let’s be realistic, Jon, I think we both had it in the back of our minds that we were both going to die. I guess I just never considered the possibility of a future beyond that, because I figured we didn’t have one. I figured the best I could hope for was dying with you and there being a life after death we could spend together. Even when we came back here to fix everything, I—I didn’t really think beyond immediate goals. Stop Jonah, save Tim, save Sasha, save the world. I didn’t think about what might be ahead for us. But then we were in there talking to Helen, and I was listening to you spin that story for her, and—and something just clicked, you know? I suddenly…it suddenly hit me how much I really wanted all of that. How much I want to have that—that future. That life together. A home. A cat.” He swallowed hard. “Kids.”

Jon didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Martin closed his eyes and lowered his head. He shouldn’t have said all that. He should have just left it at wanting them to have a future. He shouldn’t have mentioned how right everything Jon had lied to Helen about felt. It was too much pressure, and God knew Jon probably didn’t want it, didn’t want to risk…now Jon was going to think he had to let Martin down gently. Hell, there was no guarantee Jon even wanted this to be forever. Martin knew he loved Jon, would love him until there was nothing left of either one of them to love, but what if Jon didn’t feel the same way? Especially since most of their relationship had developed while slogging through a literal hellscape. Could they even survive a future free of conflict? But he was trying to get better about not assuming, so he pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything else and tried to fight back the tears.

At last, Jon spoke. “Do you remember the first person who came to give a live statement when we started working in the Archives?”

Leave it to Jon to change the subject rather than break his heart. And of course Martin remembered Naomi Hearn, but—wait. “Right, the—the civil engineer?” He didn’t trust himself to say much beyond that, still trying to get his emotions under control, but he remembered now. The man had found a book he thought might have been deeply cursed and been sent down to the Archives to give his statement. They’d eventually found out that the leather-bound book with its holographic, eerily styled illustrations and weird stains and symbols scattered throughout it was part of an ill-conceived but ultimately harmless viral marketing scheme for an independent horror movie that tanked at the box office and bankrupted the filmmakers.

“Mm-hmm. He brought his daughter with him, and when I came out to give him space to make his statement privately, you were keeping an eye on her for him. I don’t think you saw me—or Tim, for that matter, when he got back in—but I was…captivated. Didn’t know why then, but I just stood there watching you pacing around the Archives singing nonsense songs.”

“Polish,” Martin said softly. Jon was right—he hadn’t seen anyone else there. He’d offered to watch the little girl so she didn’t interfere with the recordings, or get scared, and he honestly hadn’t noticed another soul until the man came back for her. God, he didn’t even remember the man’s name. The girl’s name was Juliana, though. He remembered that mostly because of the children’s song he’d sung at her that had her name in it.

“I should have known. Still…my point stands. It’s…it’s a memory that’s stuck with me.” Jon exhaled. “You’d make an excellent father, Martin. I think I’d like to see that.”

A sudden weight lifted off of Martin’s chest, and he drew what felt like the first free breath he’d drawn in ages, even though it had really only been a few minutes. “Yeah?”

“Very much so,” Jon replied. “I…you’re right. I never let myself consider the future beyond…well, beyond stopping the Apocalypse. But you deserve so much more. We deserve it. So yes, Martin. To all of it. If—when we survive this, I’d like to have that future with you.”

Their fingers were still laced together. Martin turned his hand over and squeezed Jon’s tightly. “You know, that…was not how I imagined proposing to you.”

Jon’s laugh was a balm on the raw edges of Martin’s nerves—warm, affectionate, and maybe a little surprised. “Technically, you didn’t actually propose. You mentioned a lot of things you wanted, but—”

“Fine, you overly-precise bastard.” Martin laughed, too, then turned his head and hoped like hell he was actually looking at Jon. “Jonathan Sims, will you marry me?”

Jon’s hand tightened around Martin’s, and Martin could have sworn there was a hitch in his voice as he replied, “Yes, Martin Blackwood, I will.”

Martin wasn’t sure he’d ever stop smiling, even if his face hurt. “Sorry I don’t have a ring to give you, but…”

“I think I’ll survive,” Jon said dryly. He was audibly smiling, too. “I love you. So very much.”

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

For a moment, Martin let himself be content. They’d had more and more moments of happiness and comfort since coming back in time, and even in the short month they’d been living in the tunnels, emerging at night to let Jon feed off of statements and try to figure out what to do with the table in Artifact Storage without getting caught by Jonah, there were periods of time where they were almost as happy as they’d been in Scotland. But this moment right here? Sitting in a car with his boyfriend—his fiancé—and talking about a future Martin couldn’t have even imagined was possible even a year ago? This was the closest thing to heaven he thought he’d known since the first time Jon said I love you.

So, naturally, it all went to hell almost immediately.

Martin couldn’t even really say for sure what happened. He just felt the sudden waves of tension coming off of Jon. Jon’s fingers clenched briefly around Martin’s, then slowly relaxed and slid away. It was all done carefully and naturally, but Martin knew something was wrong. He fought down the instinct to apologize—the lingering remnants of his mother’s conditioning. It wasn’t always his fault and he knew that. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Which meant that whatever was upsetting Jon was something external.

“Jon?” he asked carefully, worried and maybe a little afraid. “What’s wrong?”

Jon took a slow, even breath, which told Martin he’d maybe considered saying nothing before remembering that they were being honest with each other. “We’re being followed.”

“Oh.” Martin rested his hands on his lap and tried to resist the urge to bunch his trousers up in his hands. “By who?”

“It’s a police car. Which I know isn’t all that helpful, all things considered, but I’m reluctant to use the Beholding’s power more than I have to, so I don’t know who’s in it. It could be just a regular police officer on patrol who thinks we’re out of place in the area. It could be a complete coincidence. But it’s beginning to get dark and this isn’t a well-populated area.”

Martin swallowed. “So what are you going to do?”

Jon took another deep breath. “I am going to obey the exact speed limit and—”

The single whoop of the siren made Martin jump, and Jon sighed. “Shit.”

“They want us to pull over, whoever they are,” Martin guessed.

“I am pulling over.” Jon paused. “Martin, just—please let me handle this. Promise me you won’t—just, please.”

Martin fought back his instinctive response and nodded. “Okay, Jon. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jon said softly.

Martin forced himself to sit still and stare straight ahead, even as he heard the faint squeaking of the window rolling down and Jon’s voice of forced calm. “Good evening, Officer.”

“License and registration,” a voice said. Martin bit back the gasp that instinctively rose in his throat. He knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it in a while—low and faintly menacing, unmistakably one Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, still part of both the police force and the Hunt.

There was a sound of fumbling, and then a short pause before Daisy said, “Know why I pulled you over?”

Martin could guess, but he’d promised to keep his mouth shut, and he knew why Jon had asked—begged, really. Even with a regular police officer, if Martin mouthed off to them, Jon would likely take the brunt of it. And with Daisy, that would be worse. Jon was likely hoping to protect Martin, but Martin would do whatever he had to in order to keep Jon safe, too.

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Jon was still keeping his voice even, but Martin could hear that it was shaking, just a little.

“Step out of the car.”

Martin stiffened as fear shot through him. This isn’t a well-populated area. Was it secluded enough, abandoned enough, that Daisy might do something to Jon? Even with him sitting right there? Quickly, he chastised himself. That wasn’t the Hunt, that would be the Slaughter—purposeless violence, violence for violence’s sake. The Hunt was about the chase, the tracking and following. Prey that did what you wanted it to wasn’t very interesting, and even if Daisy had sensed Jon wasn’t fully human, she wouldn’t hurt him the first time she met him. She would threaten him, let him know she was on to him…

He had to try very hard to keep his breathing even and keep from climbing out of the car himself when he heard Jon’s door shut. The window was still down, so he could hear Jon’s voice, a bit fainter but still audible. “What is this about, D—Officer?”

“You really can’t guess?” Martin had to strain hard to hear Daisy, and he tried to breathe as lightly as possible so he wouldn’t miss anything. “Let’s start with what you’re doing in this neighborhood.”

“We had an appointment to view a house.”

“That I’m sure you can’t afford. Doubt the Magnus Institute pays that well.” There was a faint hint of malicious satisfaction in Daisy’s voice, Martin thought, and she probably had that sharp, smug little smile of hers.

“There’s no law against looking, even if we won’t be able to buy,” Jon said. “A-and there’s always a chance we could manage it together. There’s—there’s a lot we can do together.”

Martin noticed then that Jon was putting slight stress on we. Like he was reminding Daisy that he wasn’t alone. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking as he listened. The knowledge that Daisy was the only person who’d tried to help Jon when Martin couldn’t had made him try to trust her, and he’d thought a lot over the last however long it had been about her lowering her gun and letting Elias live rather than risk Basira dying, but try as he might, he could never shake the memory of Jon standing in that office, disheveled, frightened, and neck still tacky with blood. This Daisy wasn’t their Daisy, the one who’d forced Jon to listen to The Archers to ground him to humanity or asked Basira to find her and kill her once she’d saved the Institute. This was the one who would shoot Jon, or slit his throat, and not lose a moment’s sleep over it. God only knew what she’d do to Martin, even though he was—in theory anyway—human.

“Mm-hmm. Of course,” Daisy replied. “And you certainly didn’t have any…designs on anyone in the neighborhood.”

“I don’t mean harm to anyone.”

“Sure you don’t. Does the real Jonathan Sims know you have his car?”

Martin’s body ran cold. He knew Daisy hadn’t met Jon this quickly after Basira’s first visit to the Archives—she’d come with the third tape—so there was no way she knew the Jon in this timeline either. She couldn’t possibly. How could she know—?

“I am Jonathan Sims,” Jon insisted.

“Uh-huh. And who’s in the car with you?”

“My fiancé.” The pride in Jon’s voice overrode his fear, just for a moment, and Martin’s lips twitched involuntarily. Jon had always taken an inordinate amount of delight in claiming Martin as his boyfriend, regardless of the tone whoever they encountered addressed them in; he should have known Jon would be even more thrilled to tell people they were engaged. Fleetingly, he wondered what the Archival team would think of it, or if they were going to mention it before everything was over. He didn’t think Jon would manage to keep it a secret.

“He have a name?”

“Of course he does.”

A faint growl came from somewhere, and the hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood up. There had been a time when he would have considered his inner animal or daemon or Patronus or whatever you wanted to call it to be some sort of small squeaky mammal, because growing up, whenever he came up against a choice between fight, flight, or freeze, his body inevitably chose to freeze, or more accurately to curl in on itself and fight the urge to cry because that made things worse. Since escaping his mother’s clutches, and even more since becoming part of the Archives, he’d drifted towards a weird blend of fight and freeze that usually manifested in him getting angry and doing something stupid. That growl, though, made him want to hunker down in the grass and pray not to be seen. Not even metaphorically. He shrank back against the seat and swallowed hard, willing Jon with all his heart to get back in the damn car already.

The sudden sharp rap on the window right next to Martin’s ear made him almost jump out of his skin, and he couldn’t stop his frightened gasp this time. It took him a second to realize he was probably expected to put down his window. He fumbled for the crank and managed to wind it down.

“Step out of the car,” Daisy’s voice ordered.

Martin scrambled to get the safety belt undone, then reached for the car door to open it. He gave a fleeting thought to his cane, but he couldn’t quite remember if he’d brought it with him or left it at Tim’s house when they’d borrowed Past Jon’s car and he didn’t think he had the time to ask. The door suddenly jerked from his hand, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. He only barely managed to keep himself steady and get out without falling.

Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut, he chanted to himself as he braced himself against the roof of the car. This could still go badly for Jon—for both of them, really, but if Martin mouthed off Daisy was likely to take it out on Jon.

“On the curb,” Daisy ordered.

Martin nodded, making what he hoped were being taken as noises of agreement, and started around the car, keeping one hand on it to make sure he didn’t wander off into the street and get run over. Jon had mentioned it was starting to get dark. Besides, the last thing he wanted was Daisy to think he was trying to run.

“Leave him out of this.” Jon sounded more scared than Martin thought he’d heard him since they’d been separated in the Lonely house. “He hasn’t done—”

“Shut up,” Daisy growled. She—or something, anyway—prodded Martin sharply between the shoulder blades. “Hurry up.”

Martin’s hip slammed into the side of the car. He bit back a grunt of pain and tried to pick up the pace, but moving faster meant he didn’t have time to figure out what was ahead of him and he almost tripped over the curb when he finally reached it. The slap of his hand on the car’s hood echoed loudly—which was good, he supposed, it meant there was something for the sound to echo off of, which meant they weren’t in a completely isolated area—and he pulled himself onto the sidewalk and edged around the car. He bumped into the mirror and stopped moving. Daisy would tell him if she wanted him somewhere else. He hoped.

“Jon?” he whispered as loud as he dared. Hopefully he was still quiet enough to cover the thin edge of panic.

“I’m here, Martin,” Jon whispered back. It wasn’t soft enough to cover his panic, or maybe Martin just knew him well enough to hear it. He doubted that, though. Jon had admitted, simultaneously not long ago and forever ago, that what Daisy had put him through was still one of the most terrifying things he’d experienced, and even though they’d later become friends, it was hard to forget what she’d nearly done. And this was the Daisy who would do that. Add in the fact that Martin was here, and far more vulnerable than Jon was, and it was going to terrify him.

Martin took a deep, steadying breath. He had to hold it together. He had to. If Jon was that scared, the last thing he needed was to know how scared Martin was.

“What’s your name?” Daisy demanded.

“Martin Blackwood,” Martin answered, managing to keep his voice even.

“Oh, interesting. I don’t suppose you’ve got any ID on you to prove that.”

Martin pressed his lips together hard for a moment. He might, actually; his wallet was somewhere in one of their bags, unless he’d lost it slogging through the Apocalypse, and they’d made sure to bring everything out of the tunnels with them, just in case Leitner went snooping around and tried to do something. But there would be a lot of digging around involved in that. “Not handy, sorry.”

Daisy’s snort was close enough that the air from it curled against Martin’s cheek, and he flinched. He hadn’t realized she was so nearby. “Of course not. That would be easy, wouldn’t it?”

Martin swallowed back his instinctive response and kept as still as he could. He strained his every sense to listen, but apart from the usual sounds of a late summer evening, he couldn’t hear anything. Daisy could be right next to him, or right in front of him, or right in front of Jon. She could be anywhere, doing anything, and it set his every nerve on edge.

“So,” Daisy said finally. It sounded like she’d moved, but Martin couldn’t quite tell where she was. “The two of you are claiming to be half the staff from the Archives at the Magnus Institute. You’re driving around a tony neighborhood where neither you nor the people you’re pretending to be belong. And you’ve stolen car and ID. If I were to call the Magnus Institute, I wonder what I would learn?”

“Likely nothing. I-it’s well past closing time,” Jon answered. He sounded a little breathless. Something brushed against Martin’s hand, and he almost jumped before his mind registered the familiar feel of the roughness and slight ridges of Jon’s worm-scarred hand. He flexed his fingers slightly, and Jon gripped him like a dying man might grasp a lifeline. Martin rubbed his thumb over the back of Jon’s hand as gently as he could, hoping to give him at least a little comfort.

“Hmm. Then maybe I should reach out directly. Or maybe…” Daisy’s voice shifted slightly, and Jon gave a small, frightened gasp and tightened his grip on Martin’s hand, which set Martin’s heart rate kicking into overdrive. “Maybe I should just handle things now.”

“Y-you wouldn’t.” Jon was obviously trying to sound confident, but the fear overrode everything. “Not here. N-not so close to—people. Whatever I am, Martin isn’t—”

“What gave you that scar?” Daisy demanded.

“I—I have—”

“That one,” Daisy growled, and Jon let out a choked gurgle that told Martin she’d probably jabbed a finger into his throat. “Looks like something already tried to shut you up.”

“You did,” Jon gasped.

There was a long pause, and Martin heard a faint crunching noise, like Daisy had taken a step back. “What?” she said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Not now.” Jon’s breath was coming in short, panting gasps, like he’d been running—or like when they’d been in Scotland, when he’d woken from the worst of the nightmares. Martin wanted to wrap him up and soothe him, but he couldn’t, not here, not now. “We’re—we’re from the future. We’re here to—to stop something awful from happening.”

“Oh, what, the end of the world?” Was there maybe a little bit of uncertainty in Daisy’s voice?

“Yes. Actually. The world ends and—and so many people died. You died. You—we were friends. Later.” Jon sounded a little desperate. “I-I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true, Daisy, I swear it.”

Daisy inhaled sharply. “What did you just call me?”

“D—oh, shit.” If Jon squeezed Martin’s hand any harder, he was going to break Martin’s fingers or his own or both. “I—look, I told you, we knew each other in our timeline. Your name is Detective Alice Tonner, but everyone calls you Daisy. You don’t really tell people why, but i-it’s because of the scar on your back. I—we know you. We’re here to save you. You, and Basira, and—and everyone else.”

The silence stretched on so long that Martin wanted to scream—anything to fill it. He wanted to bundle Jon back into the car and get out of there. He wished, more strongly than he’d wished in ages, that he could see, so he could see to get them away, to know if they were safe, to make them safe. He didn’t know what Daisy was about to do and he couldn’t anticipate it without being able to see her. And of course the Hunt would keep her hidden from anyone who couldn’t see her, so he couldn’t even hear where she might be.

Finally, Daisy growled, “Whoever you are—whatever you are—I’ll let you go. This time. But if we ever cross paths again, monster…you’re mine.”

A door slammed, making Martin jump again. An engine revved, tires squealed, and then it was just the sounds of a summer night and Jon’s desperate bid for air.

“Jon?” Martin managed to maneuver around the mirror and reach for Jon with his free hand.

Jon latched onto Martin even more tightly than he had during the thunderstorm, his arms wrapped around Martin’s neck and his face buried in his chest and his body pressed so close to him it almost hurt. Martin wrapped him up securely in a hug and rocked him back and forth, trying to murmur soothing words, but they got stuck in his throat. He was only just realizing how scared he’d actually been.

“Jon, I’m here, I’m here,” he said instead, clinging to his boyfriend—his fiancé—to reassure himself that he was still there. It had been one thing to hear Jon tell him later about Daisy holding a knife to his throat in the woods, another to see that portrait of her menacing him, but living the moment they’d just lived through…

Martin realized that he’d never truly been afraid of Daisy. Not really. He’d had a hard time trusting her, he’d been angry about what she’d done, or nearly done, to Jon, but he’d never actually been afraid to be in a room with her, even when she’d been in full cop mode all but accusing him of being an accessory after the fact to murder. This was probably the first time Martin really, truly realized how close Jon had come to dying in that forest. How scared he must have been. How hard it must have been to trust her after that, to call her a friend. It was sobering. And humbling. And terrifying as fuck.

“She still scares me,” Jon whispered into Martin’s shoulder. “I meant what I said, we were friends, I cared about her. I did. I trusted her. But…”

“But she was the only person who could hurt you after the Apocalypse for a reason,” Martin murmured.

“Not the only one. Just the only one who would.”

Martin blinked hard, then decided to unpack that later. “We’re—we’re safe now. For now. We’re safe for now. It’s okay, Jon, we’re both here. We’re here. She won’t—she didn’t—” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and tried not to cry.

He couldn’t fall apart. He had to be the strong one. He was good at that, at pushing down his emotions and being the steady one. The hardest part of being with Jon had been learning to lean on Jon too, to let himself have emotions and weaknesses and moments where he was the one being held and comforted. And this was a situation, a tiny part of his brain clinging to rationality told him, where they could, and probably should, lean on each other. They both needed comfort, they both needed reassurance. But Martin had been pushed too far in his fear, and when he went this far, he defaulted into caretaker mode. He could fall apart later, when he was alone and had the time, even though he knew he would never be alone, Mum would make sure of that, and even if he was alone he’d have so much he had to do, there would never be time…

“Let’s get out of here,” Jon choked out.

Martin didn’t want to let go of him, but he eased back anyway. Jon didn’t let go of his hand, either, instead leading him around the car and opening the door for him. Even then, he didn’t let go of Martin’s hand, but climbed into the passenger seat.

“Jon, I cannot drive us,” Martin protested, even though instinct was telling him to do exactly that. Jon’s upset, he won’t be able to concentrate, you need to get us home safe…no, he needed to remember that he was blind and that, even in the throes of a panic attack, Jon would get them back to Tim’s safer than Martin would.

“No, I just—come on.” Jon tugged on Martin’s hand, which he hadn’t let go of, and as Martin ducked under the roof of the car, he heard grunts and rustling noises and realized what was going on. Jon had climbed over the center console from the passenger’s seat rather than let go of Martin’s hand for an instant.

Neither of them bothered with the safety belts, and Jon kept a tight hold of Martin’s hand even as he managed to put the car into gear. They didn’t speak the rest of the drive. Martin couldn’t tell how fast they were going, but it hardly seemed like they’d been driving any time at all before the engine cut out, and then Jon was crawling back across the console and into Martin’s lap.

They clung to each other tightly. Martin could feel Jon shaking, and honestly he wasn’t doing much better himself. He tried to hold back the tears—he didn’t have the right to be scared, not like Jon did, she hadn’t really been threatening him—but then Jon whispered brokenly, “I thought I was going to lose you,” and Martin’s control shattered.

“You thought—Jon, I thought she was going to—” Martin choked off the words and tightened his arms around Jon, hoping he’d tell him if he was hurting him. “You were—she could have—a-and I couldn’t see her, I didn’t know where she was, I—God, Jon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” Jon parried. “I-I couldn’t—when she told you to get out of the car, I—I didn’t want to—I was afraid to Know anything about her, I didn’t want her to sense it and—I know you couldn’t, not really, b-but she’s part of the Hunt and her whole thing is hunting monsters and—oh, God. I was afraid she was going to hurt you to punish me and—a-are you okay?”

Martin tried to figure out how to answer that question and finally said, “She didn’t hurt me. And I asked you first.”

Jon made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know. I asked how you were because I—I can’t be okay if you’re not okay.”

“Yeah, that goes both ways,” Martin said. He managed a shaky laugh and added, “Weirdly, despite the fact that I’m an absolute mess over here, I’m feeling better than I did before.”

“I-I know. You…you don’t let yourself…” Jon broke off. “I know.”

A long silence settled between them, broken only by Jon’s choked, stuttered breathing as he tried not to burst into tears. Martin could feel the panicked flutter of Jon’s heart in his chest, and he knew he was crying too, but them being together and alive and safe, or at least relatively safe, went a long way towards calming him. He rubbed Jon’s back, grimacing at the unfamiliar feel of thin silk barely masking the ridged scars that still mottled Jon’s back.

“You don’t feel right,” he said without really thinking about it.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how they sounded, but before he could take them back, Jon huffed lightly. “Neither do you. L-let’s—if they’re home, m-maybe Tim will let us change back into our regular clothes before we head back. I—I’d rather wear your sweater. I-it makes me feel safe.”

God, how was it possible to love this man any more than he already did? Martin pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s head, then nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

It took a bit of awkward gymnastics for them to get out of the car without letting go of one another, or falling to the ground, and Jon wrapped his arm around Martin’s waist as soon as they were both standing upright. He fished one of their bags out of the backseat—Martin presumed—and the two of them shuffled up to the house like some sort of odd four-legged creature. Their height difference made it hard, but Martin understood. He didn’t want Jon that far away from him, either.

He’d thought they probably still looked fairly presentable, but that idea was dispelled when they stumbled into the kitchen to be greeted by Tim’s shocked and horrified shout of “Jesus Christ!”

“Are you all right? What happened?” The only reason Martin knew it was Past Jon asking and not his Jon was because it was coming from the wrong direction.

“Here, sit down,” Past Martin added. “Let me—um, I can get some tea—”

“It’s fine. We’re fine,” Jon said, despite all evidence. “Just—we’re fine. Tim, can we—borrow your room to change?”

It was probably a mark of how worried Tim was that he didn’t reply with something along the lines of No, you have to strip right here in the kitchen. “Sure. You know where it is. We’ll—go get comfortable.”

“Thanks, Tim,” Martin said softly as he and Jon headed through the kitchen.

They made it to Tim’s room without too much difficulty, and by the time they reached it, Martin guessed they’d both calmed down enough that they didn’t have to be attached completely—which was good, since that would have made getting changed awkward. That didn’t mean they wanted to be far away from each other, though. Martin sat on the edge of Tim’s bed and listened to Jon rummaging around in the bag for clothes while he undid the first couple of buttons on his too-stiff shirt, then paused. An idea began to form in his head.

When Jon came over and draped a sweater in his lap, Martin reached out and caught Jon’s wrist gently before he could move back. “Will you let me help you?”

He would have given almost anything to be able to see how Jon was looking at him just then. Was it confusion or resignation or annoyance? When Jon spoke, though, it was in a voice that was soft and laden with affection. “Only if you let me help you in return.”

Martin nodded. “I’d like that.”

There was a bit of fumbling and murmured apologizing, but they managed to arrange things so that Martin could undo the buttons on Jon’s shirt while Jon unbuttoned Martin’s. It was something they’d done before, although not since coming back to the past, but Martin remembered the first week they’d been in Scotland when he’d managed to convince Jon to come on a walk with him and they’d been caught in a sudden rainstorm. They’d run back to the safe house breathless and dripping, both of them fussing at the other to get out of their wet clothes before they got pneumonia, and they’d both moved in to help each other at the same time. By the end of it, their cheeks had hurt from laughter and Martin’s shirt was missing two buttons, but since it had been the shirt he’d worn to work the day everything happened—just like the shirt Jon had been wearing had been—they’d agreed it was no great loss.

This felt different. Well, it was different. That had been two men just starting to feel out the edges of their relationship, coming out of a time of stress and uncertainty and into what they’d thought would be a time of peace, struggling to find their place in the world and how they fit in around each other. This was…well, it was two men who’d been through literal hell together and come out the other side, who knew what they were to each other. It was about taking care of each other, but it was also about reassuring themselves that the other was there and whole and well. They took a little more care with getting each other’s shirts off, partly out of respect for the quality of the shirts—although Martin was already silently wagering with himself about whether they’d ever be able to wear them without thinking about Daisy threatening them—and partly because they were both still more scared than they were willing to admit. Martin could tell exactly how scared Jon was when he stepped forward and silently embraced Martin instead of getting dressed again once their button-downs were off.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. His voice was soft and raw.

Martin hugged Jon back, pressing their foreheads together and soaking in the calm that Jon’s presence could always draw in him, no matter the circumstances. He nodded slowly. “Getting there. You?”

“I will be.” Jon shifted the angle and kissed Martin, warmly and tenderly, then pulled back with a small sigh. “Let’s finish getting dressed and go…I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t think they’ll let us, but we should probably at least warn them,” Martin said slowly. He was reluctant to let go of Jon, even though they’d both at least stopped shaking. “You know, in case Daisy thinks we’re…actually them?”

“I—I don’t think she does, but you’re right, we should.”

It was probably too warm for sweaters, but the tunnels were underground and made of stone, so they stayed cool year-round. Besides, as Jon had said, the weight was comforting. Martin pulled on the sweater and changed his trousers, then waited while Jon repacked their bag. They were still wrapped around each other when they headed back to meet the others, but at least they were a bit steadier.

That was always the way, though. They were partners; they held one another up, supported one another, steadied and anchored one another. No matter how bad or scary things got, there was nothing they couldn’t face if they held onto one another and stayed together.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #police brutality cw #panic attacks cw #this was another rough chapter y'all

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

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Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 20: What Do We Do Now?

(Ally + Lyn + Michael)

Ally.

It doesn’t make sense to me.

No matter how many times I’ve stared at the picture, it’s just not connecting. How could our professor be the one in the picture when he was alive and well, torturing us with his love for drama? It was like my brain had stopped working, because there were no theories or thoughts running through it for once. I was at a loss for words.

We ended up just going back to our rooms after that bomb was dropped, because what else could we do? We needed answers from someone who could actually give us something to work with. Our best option was to see if Dahlia would be able to tell us anything, or maybe even the lady that Michael’s been speaking to at the Dreaming Mythic.

As I unlocked the door to my room, Sarah was still up, working away at something on her laptop. She glanced my way when I walked in, looking away with an embarrassed flush. At this point, I was used to her just ignoring me, even though it still stung. Controlling the urge to sigh, I dropped my schoolbag and purse onto the floor, then kicked my boots off. I was ready to hit the bed right there and then when I heard Sarah clear her throat.

“Hey…” she said carefully, glancing my way.

“Hey,” I said just as cautiously.

“So, like…um,” Sarah rubbed her hands together awkwardly. “I thought about you told me… and like, well, it is a little hard to believe but I’ve decided something. I’m not going to like, ruin a friendship I have with you because of that.” She sat on the edge of the bed now, her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been a bad friend, Ally. I hope you can like, forgive me for taking so long to realize that. I totally understand if you like, never want to talk to me again. I just wanted to let you know that I like, really miss you and know how badly I messed up.”

My own eyes had filled with tears and now they were spilling out. They left hot trails on my cheeks as I nodded. “I forgive you.”

Sarah sobbed as she got up. I got up too and we hugged each other tightly. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. I honestly thought that this was over, that we were never going to talk to each other again. I’ve lost so many people in my life to this, so the fact that I had so many friends I had who accepted me was so startling beautiful.

We pulled away and Sarah put her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes. “Ally, you have to, like, promise me that you’ll be more careful, though. Those bruises…they were horrible.”

“I’m trying to be,” I sniffled. “It’s not like I’m looking for danger, danger just comes looking for me.”

Sarah giggled wetly. “Danger usually follows trouble. So, if you’re like, looking for trouble, danger is sure to be there too.”

“Okay, I’ll try a little bit harder.” I smiled softly at her, placing my hands on hers. “Now, sorry, but I really need sleep. I’m about to pass out on my feet.”

“Please don’t.”

Tonight, as I slipped under the covers, my heart felt a little bit lighter, even if my head was full of uncontrolled thoughts.

XXX

Drama was the most awkward class the next time I was in it.

I sat in between Mags and Michael, as Professor Kinkly was wrapping up his lecture for the day. Exams were only a few short weeks away, so he wanted to make sure he was cramming all his last-minute crap in now. I wasn’t listening to a word he was saying as my eyes were focused solely on the clock, watching the seconds tick away. Class seemed like it was never going to end.

“…and I’m handing back those papers you all wrote for me,” said Kinkly as his final remarks before the end. I sat up a little straighter when I realized what was going on.

He started calling names so people would go up front and grab them. When my name was called, I stiffened for a second before scooting out of my seat, slipping past Michael as I did. When I walked up to him, all I could see was the face in the photograph. He barely looked any older now. How was that even possible?

“Good job, Alexandra,” he said as he handed back my paper. “It was a very interesting read.”

“Thank you,” I said stiffly. I’m not sure why, but suddenly I really didn’t like that he had my full name. There was a deep discomfort settling in my stomach at the thought. I quickly retreated back to where my bag was and stuffed the paper inside.

“Is everything okay?” Mags asked as they glanced at the grade scrawled on the back of their paper.

I nodded carefully, making sure to look more relaxed. “Just ready to get out of here, I’m starving.”

“Amen to that.”

Eventually Michael got up to get his paper. I’m pretty sure he was actually the last person in class to get his paper. Poor guy and his unfortunate placing in the alphabet. Together, we scampered out of there, the two of us sparing one last glance at our professor. I noticed with a jolt that he was watching us leave, the lens of his glasses reflecting funny, so we could barely make out his eyes. It was very creepy.

My head was in the clouds as we walked across campus, not really focusing on the conversation at hand. We passed by Dahlia’s tree, and I found myself looking for the ghost, only to see she wasn’t showing herself right now. I wondered where they went, if they couldn’t go back to the spirit world or whatever.

We sat down in the meal hall, and I could practically feel the tension in the air. Students were nervously catching up to last minute work that needed to be submitted. Others were discussing final papers or final exams. Some of the students even were discussing the big football game that our team was playing in this week. It was surprising, considering how bad they were last year. They really turned things around, I guess. Overall, there was just a sense of unease filling the room today.

Maybe it was just my over heighted senses, but I was feeling a lot more spiritual presence as well. I’ve suspected for a while now that there was something going on…oh. Oh. OH.

My eyes widen as the thought hit me like a wrecking ball. Oozing walls. Doors locking themselves. People had reported many times that something bizarre or unexplained happened each time there had been a murder. I was sensing stronger spiritual presence, even more so than usual. None of the students had said anything so far, but I wasn’t sure who would really be able to pick up on that. But suddenly, her skeptical face flashed in my mind, and I knew who I needed to talk to.

Janna Kawada.

I didn’t even think about it before, when she had mentioned it to me, because my mind had been collecting so much information at the time that I buried it. But she saw Fiona. She saw her in the mirror. No one else had ever said as much, but that meant that either Janna could see them too or the spiritual powers were growing, and I just never noticed because this is what I was used to.

I had to speak with her. I needed to know. But where would she be? A third year Biochem student on the soccer team. She probably didn’t live on campus anymore, and practice was no longer going on. Crap. I needed to think. How would I be able to get in touch with her?

“Michael,” I said suddenly, turning to him.

He was holding his fork halfway to his mouth, noodles dangling from them, dripping sauce onto the plate. “Uh, yea’?”

“Do you happen to know when the Biochem lab is for the third years?”

Slowly he put his fork down, his expression puzzled. “Kinda. Why?”

“I need to speak to someone. Janna Kawada.”

“The one from the newspaper article?”

I nodded quickly. “The very one and the same. It’s super important. I’ll explain it later.”

Michael frowned in thought. “Right. I think there’s actually one that happens at 4:30 today, so if you stalk outside the building, you might be able to catch her. But if you don’t, those labs are usually four hours long.”

I glanced at the time on my phone and saw that it was only 2:18. Crap.

“Why do you have to talk to her?” Mags asked, drawing my attention to them. Crap. I forgot we were sitting together still. My mind had jumped way too far ahead there for a second.

My brain worked furiously as I came up with an excuse. Finally, one popped into my head, and I said, “I’m thinking of taking Chem next term as my science credit, and I might need a tutor for it.”

Mags looked skeptical. “Why not take an easier class? Human Bio is supposed to be a bird course.”

“I want to challenge myself,” I lied.

Mags looked at me for a long minute before shaking their head. “Whatever, you do you. I don’t care. I personally would take the easy option though.”

I just nodded in response, not being to say much else. I had a plan now, I needed to focus on that. Maybe I could talk to Dahlia before then? I bit my lip, thinking it through. She was never willing to tell who had killed all these people before, but it still might be worth it. Deciding it was, I picked up my bag and said goodbye to my two friends.

Quickly I made my way back to her tree. I plopped myself down and knocked on the tree. After a few minutes passed, I was worried that she wasn’t going to come. But I felt the shift in pressure as all sounds stopped around me. Dahlia appeared beside me, but something about her posture was different. She had her legs pulled up, her chin resting on her knees with the smallest of frowns on her lips. Dahlia looked younger and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her before. She gave me a side-eyed glance. “Yes?”

I shifted so I was shoulder to shoulder with her. “What going on with you? You seem down or something.”

Conflict played out behind her sea-green eyes before she gave me a small shake of her head.

“Are you sure?” I frowned.

“Always,” she drawled. “What is it that you need, darling?”

“Well…I just noticed recently the increase of spiritual power on campus,” I said slowly, judging her reaction. But as usual, it was nearly impossible to read. “And I was wondering if you maybe knew something about that.”

Dahlia stayed quiet for several seconds as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she did a jerky nod. “I can’t say too much. But yes, you are correct. He’s gathering power for his next…target. But that’s all I can say.” She shifted so she could look at me fully. “Ally, there isn’t much time left. If you don’t hurry, someone else will die.” Her image flickered briefly, as if she was disappearing.

A dash of fear spiked in my system for a flash. I was running out of time? I didn’t understand, and there was something that was not letting Dahlia tell me. I thought I saw a shadow of a hand creeping onto her face.

I wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her but I knew I couldn’t. I placed my hand next to hers and stared into her eyes. “Listen, I will stop him. I know you can’t help me but thank you for trying anyway.”

Her image flickered again as she smiled at me. “Archives, Ally. Check them, your answers are there. Trust me when I tell you that. It’s going to be extremely dangerous, but I do believe in you. I believe in Lyndsey and Michael as well. Just be smart.” She flickered even more intensely now, nearly disappearing from view. Her eyes lit up with mischief as she said, “Salty silver witches hurt those who cannot write missives, Ally.” She disappeared after that. Of her own volition, I wasn’t sure.

I sat there, puzzled. What did that even mean?

XXX

Michael.

It was later that night when Ally came stumbling into the basement of the library. After she had gone off to do whatever it was, I hadn’t seen her for the rest of the day. After Lyn got out of her practice, she texted me saying that she was able to help with any research, but for once I think we were all stumped on our next move. So, I ended up telling her not to bother. She still showed up and ended up just working on her paper. She looked up over her laptop, staring at Ally in silent confusion. I was just as confused by her sudden arrival.

Ally gripped her phone tightly in her hand, her whole body shaking. With what, I wasn’t sure. Slowly, she sat down at out table. Lyn pulled her headphones off and reached over to place a hand on Ally’s forearm.

“Ally, you okay?” she asked, the concern noticeable in her tone.

Ally nodded. “I think I figured something out.”

I scootched my chair closer. “Like what?”

“I…” she took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it through her nose. The shaking stopped a little. “I spoke with Janna today, because I realized something. When I did my interview with her all those weeks ago, she told me she saw Fiona. It literally just came to me when I was thinking about the spiritual presences on campus feeling stronger. So, I did the stupid thing and asked her. I legit asked her if she could see the dead.” She stopped and took another deep breath.

“She said that she couldn’t. Not normally anyway. Michael, you said you could see her too, right?” I nodded and Ally continued. “Okay, so it is stronger. Stronger that other people can see it, which is why I think Dahlia was able to possess Lyn like she did, because she is already powerful as is, so it just increased her power. But it’s not all-around campus, it’s only at the Athletic Centre.”

“How come?” Lyn asked, her brow furrowed.

“Because…” Ally bit her lip, her face pale. “It was the last place someone was murdered.”

I tapped my hand against my knee, trying to keep my nerves in check. “What does that mean? Why does it matter it was the last place someone died?”

Ally pushed her glasses up her faces and pressed her hands to her eyes. “So, I spoke to the others before coming here. The others being the ghosts, that is. They all told me similar things.” She put her notebook on the table and pushed it forwards so we could read it. “Basically, each time someone had been murdered, the area where the last person had died some a sudden spike of energy. Jamieson said that he always hated having his class in Harper Hall because weird things happened all the time. Amelia was the last one to die, and she hated spending any time around the old art building, where it turns out there was another student who was killed there, but never reported on because it was considered an OD. Since Jamieson can’t leave the Student Centre, he didn’t notice the dark energy that surrounds the Athletic Centre, and he wasn’t aware that someone else had be killed.”

She sat back in her chair, the weariness on her face making her look older than 18. “So, the reason why you guys could see them when you normally couldn’t, is just that. But it gets worse, because Dahlia just went missing earlier. I can’t sense her at all. But, before she disappeared, she told me that the killer is gathering power for his next kill and that we’re running out of time. I’m not sure why he needs energy to kill, but if we think that he was the one who made Fredrik into the monster, he might be planning something similar.”

Lyn’s face looked like it was set in stone as she chewed on this information, while I continued to tap my hands against my knees. Ally sighed as she rubbed her face. “But I think if we can send Fredrik back, we can weaken the spiritual energy. That’s where Katherine comes in.”

“If she agrees,” I said quietly.

“If she does,” conceded Ally.

We stayed quiet for a minute, each of us thinking about different things. What if Katherine didn’t agree? I suppose we could always ask Talia, I’m sure she would help. But how much time did we have left? Not to joke in a serious situation, but I really hoped that he’d have the decency to kill before exams, so they were at least cancelled.

Lyn got up suddenly, as if she was possessed. Oh, maybe that wasn’t the right choice of words. Oh well. She said nothing to us as she headed for the staircase that led to the second floor of the basement. Ally and I shared a look before I shrugged. I wasn’t going to make the effort to go and see what she was getting up to.

XXX

Lyn.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I knew I needed to look in here.

The archives.

I was spending so much time looking up things online that I forgot about one thing: a lot of these old newspapers haven’t been put on the internet yet because someone had to do it manually. People were a lot of things but being paid a lame wage plus no motivation equalled someone not doing their job.

I knew the person who died in the ‘60s was Dahlia Cressman, because we had her old things in our home. My great grandpa had mentioned it a few times too. There was no point in looking into that, now that I’ve made that connection. But the opening of the school, that’s what I needed to know about. Ally had mentioned it a few times, but it wasn’t until now that something occurred to me. Dahlia had told her someone had died before the campus had opened. These things happened, unfortunately. Accidents happen at construction sites.

But what if that death was more than that? I went all the way into the back of the room, going to the oldest shelf. I gently pulled out boxes full of old news articles, flipping through them until I found what I was looking for: the article written about that day.

I gingerly opened the paper, being careful of where I laid it on the table. My eyes scanned through the garble of the paper until I found what I was looking for. The headline was still legible, reading Tragedy at New University Location.

What should have been a wonderful day ended in tragedy. During the nearly finished construction of the new University campus built in Yokeville, a disaster struck. 27-year-old Jeremiah Kinkly was found dead this morning, Tuesday June 12th. It was suspected that Kinkly was trying to sneak into the property, into the Kramer Hall building. This building had not been finished yet, and many pieces of scaffolding had been hung in place, not locked up. According to RCMP officer Lawrence, it looked as if the man fell to his death.

“His body was somewheres near the building, all mangled like,” said the young officer. “I got a call about a trespasser, and when I got here, I seen the body right away. I knew there was nothing I could do for him. Poor soul.”

Mr. Kinkly is survived by his mother, father, and pet dog.

The picture they had used for him looked exactly like the Drama professor. But that wasn’t the only thing I was looking for. I went back into the archives and shuffled through more of the boxes, knowing what it was I needed. The lights flickered dangerously overhead, which told me I was looking in the right spot after all. My heart picked up its pace when I found it. Quickly I read it over, just to be sure. I grinned in confirmation and headed back to the table. I picked up the newspaper and went back upstairs, where the other two where still sitting, looking just as tired as I felt. I put the paper on the table and pushed it towards them.

“Do you see the issue I see?”

Michael looked up with a frown. “What do you mean?”

I tapped at the end of the article, when Ally gasped. “Mother, father. No other family is mentioned. How is that possible? They must be related. They literally look like the same person…”

I dropped my other find on the table. “Look at this.”

Ally picked it up, her eyes widening as she got to the end of the article. Michael took it next and read through it a few times, his brow furrowed as he muttered, “This doesn’t make sense.”

“They’re the same person,” I said, crossing my arms. “Robert Kinkly claimed that he was related to the dead man when asked about after his hiring, but there were no other children, and the family seemingly didn’t have another child. Even if they did, Kinkly wouldn’t look as young as he did. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But how…?” Ally’s voice was practically a whisper. “How is it that he died but he’s here now?”

Then Ally’s face paled as realization bloomed in her eyes. “He’s like them. He’s like the Moore siblings.”

Michael asked, “What does that mean?” as I sat down.

“They’re tangible. They can touch us and we can touch them.” Ally pulled over her notebook and started writing furiously. “I suspected the reason why they could be because they had turned into something evil. Was it because they had no family? Kinkly would fall into that category if that was the case, because his family may no longer be alive. But does that make him the killer?”

“The killings started happening once he got a job here, in the ‘70s,” I pointed out. “You said that Amelia didn’t like going to the art building, probably because someone had died there. What did she say about that?”

“That she always felt like there was someone watching her there,” said Ally. “Would it be worth it to try and talk to the ghost there? Maybe we can learn something.”

Michael ran his hands over his face as he mumbled, “We might as well.”

“Yeah, it’s not like it can get any more insane than this,” I said with a slight smirk.

Ally looked between us before nodding. “Alright, we’ll go for it tomorrow. I’m too tired tonight.”

“Blessed,” said Michael as he started tossing his things into his bag. “I really didn’t want to go tonight, no offence.”

“None taken.”

I packed up quickly too and followed them out. I made sure to say bye to Eileen as we left. I loved the little old lady and she always helped me out in first year. We walked with Michael all the way back to his res before I walked with Ally back to hers.

I wasn’t the most observant person on the planet, but I thought she seemed a little happier recently. A smile flickered across my face unbidden, and I looked up at the stars. They were hard to see through the light, the pollution, and the clouds, but they were fighting through. I always liked going camping in the summer and staring up at them, losing myself in them. It was one of the few things I liked as a teenager. It was a way for me to get away from all the drama at home.

Ally’s hands slipped into mine as she pressed herself against my side. I looked down at her and she was smiling up at me, her face pink from the cold. It was amazing that she could still smile through all of this. Her strength never ceased to amaze me. We were standing in front of Lukas but Ally didn’t seem to be in a rush to get inside. She probably would have stayed there for as long as possible, but I could already see she was starting to shiver. So, I bent down and kissed her, whispering good night in her ear. She kissed me back before heading inside, and I waved to her as I left.

I wasn’t sure why I went this way instead of heading back to MacGavin, but I found myself standing in front of the big tree. The one where Dahlia resides. I placed my hand on the bark, not able to feel the roughness because of my gloves. It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone I was related to had died here on this very campus. I didn’t feel a sense of sadness or anything, since I didn’t know anything about the chick, but still. It was a little unsettling, you know?

“Hey, um,” I felt my ears heating up, “I have no idea if you can hear me but thanks. I know I gave ya grief the other day for possessing me and shit, but you save our asses. Um…great grandpa never stopped missing you. I wish we had the chance to meet, because honestly you sound like a super cool lady. And thanks for helping Ally out, even if you can’t give her all the answers. I’m sure you have your reasons.” I let my hand drop to my side as I looked up at the branches, noticing for the first time that all the water had froze, creating a crystal-like appearance. It was gorgeous to look at. “Uh, yeah. That’s about it, I guess. It’d be awesome if you could help us one last time, but I guess you’re missing. I hope you’re okay. Well…bye, Dahlia.”

Did it feel super fucking weird to talk to a tree? Yes. Did it make any sense to me? Nope. But for whatever reason, I felt a little bit lighter as I walked back to my res.

XXX

Ally.

Next time I decide to solve murders of long dead people and go on spooky missions during the night, I’m doing it in a warmer season because I’m so sick of the cold at this point. It was only 8:00 at night but I was freezing.

I pushed open the doors of the art building, welcoming the warmth that blasted my face. The building was still open because there was a play going on for Drama. I had already seen it on a previous night because it was part of our grade to do so. I was here for a different reason tonight. To speak to one last ghost. Hopefully.

The music for the show was muffled but could still be heard through the doors. The two students in charge of the tickets were talking to each other to pass the time, paying me no attention, which was perfect. I didn’t want them to ask me any questions.

I quietly walked by their table as I felt my skin prickling. I looked up to see him sitting there, a young man sketching. I used the stairs to get up to the third level of the building, a decision I regretted almost immediately. Look, I’m not the most fit person, I’ll admit that, but I don’t think anyone on this planet could take multiple flights of stairs without getting tired. If they could, they probably weren’t human.

He was waiting for me when I finally made it to him, trying very hard to not wheeze. He had slicked back black hair and curious blue eyes. He gave me a wave and a small smile that I returned as I leaned over the balcony, looking down to the ground floor.

“You’re the one making waves around here, huh?” he asked, floating off so he was standing next to me.

“That’s me.”

He nodded, looking down as well. “You know you’re making a name for yourself in the spirit world, right? I usually don’t haunt here anymore, since I gave up hope a long time ago that anyone was going to bring that killer to justice, so when Dahlia told me about you, it was hard to believe. Yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” I said softly. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my notebook and pen. I smiled at him as I waved it. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Go right ahead, young lady.”

“What’s your name?”

“David Lancaster,” he answered simply.

“If you don’t mind telling me, I would like to know how you died.”

“I don’t. I was here, working on my art project when I heard something strange. I decided to go check it out, because the banging wouldn’t stop. I ended going into the auditorium, that one over there,” he pointed at where the play was currently taking place. “Once I was inside, the doors slammed shut behind me and they wouldn’t budge. I knew about the emergency exit, so I wasn’t too scared yet, but I’d just seen Halloween with my girlfriend Sally, and I thought maybe it was my buddy Joe playing a prank on me. But as I got closer to the door, I felt this terrible chill just seep into my bones. I thought it was from the door since it led outside, but I was very wrong.

“Next thing I knew, I was frozen to the spot. I couldn’t move, no matter how hard I tried. Then I felt someone come up from behind me and jab me in the arm. I tried to get a good look at who it was, but I never saw his face, only heard his voice. He jabbed me again, and my vision went black. When I woke up, my body was lying on the ground and I wasn’t in it. I believe the coroner said I had OD’d. That hurt the most, since I never did a bad drug in my life. Just some weed, but most people my age had.” He scratched his chin before running his hand through his hair in thoughtful silence.

I put the pen down, surprised at how easy that fell off his tongue. I suppose being dead for nearly 50 years stopped you from being sensitive about your own demise. But listening to him, I was certain now that Kinkly was behind this. I asked if he saw the killer’s general height and hair colour, and when I showed him a picture his eyes widened a little.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself. “I remember taking classes with Professor Kinkly. He told me I was his brightest star.”

“I think…” I took a deep breath in and steeled myself. “I think he was the one who killed you, David.”

David looked at me, his jaw slack with surprise and his eyes watery. He closed them and his body started to shake. I was confused when I realized he was laughing, and I took a step away from him. The laughter became echoing, as if there was more than one voice laughing with him. When he turned to look at me again, his eyes were gone, and the skin was melting off his bones. Fear spiked in my system as I stumbled away from him. I spirted to the staircase, trying to get away from him.

“I told you he was coming! He’s coming for you!” His voice followed me all the way down, and when I turned around to see if he was gone, I saw nothing. However, when I got to the bottom of the stairs, he jumped out in front of me, reaching for my face. I screamed in shock as I fell back.

His face had warped into something monstrous, with bloody saliva and sharp teeth. I whimpered as I tried to scoot away, but the only thing behind me was the stairs and they stopped me from going anywhere.

“You shouldn’t have stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, you stupid girl,” said the voice of Kinkly’s from David’s mouth. “If you had minded your own business, then I would have left you alone. But now? Now, I have to KILL YOU!” He roared in my face, raising a clawed hand.

I lifted my arms up in protection when something strange happened. His body froze and began to twist in an inhumanly way. He looked like someone possessed in a scary movie. One clear blue eye found mine and he said in the calming voice from earlier, “You need to get away, young lady.”

I’m not sure how David took his spirit form back, but I quickly scrambled away. There must have been a distortion of space in place, because no one was around. I was all alone here, stuck with the murderer who killed so many before me. I wasn’t sure how long David was going to be able to hold out for, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out.

I hear him howling behind me and I made a mad dash to the door. I slammed against the glass and pulled on them violently, but they wouldn’t budge. My panic levels were starting to rise to a dangerous level as I looked around for an escape from this hell space. My eyes were drawn to the other exit, back from where I came from. My pulse was pounding in my ears and in my head as I ran like crazy past David, who took a vicious swipe at me as I did. I managed to dodge out of the way, with only a nick in my jacket to show for it.

The sounds of galloping followed behind me as Beast David charged at me. I jumped out of the way as he flew by, taking a chunk of the floor with him. I winced as I hit the floor but ignored it for now as I scrambled back to my feet. I raced towards the exit and smashed my shoulder into it, and the door popped open with a hiss like a pop tab. I slammed it shut behind me and backed away. David slammed into the door but couldn’t make past it.

Students were leaving from the other side, blissfully unaware of the monster that was on the other side. David’s form melted as he disappeared, his haunting empty sockets being the last thing I saw.

A few students glanced my way as I stood there, breathing heavily. I winced as I took a step back, pain flaring like heat in my ribs. I must have landed on them funny when I jumped. I raked my fingers through my hair, trying hard to bring my heart rate down.

David’s voice had sounded so familiar to me, and now I know why. He was the one who warned me, back in the library. He warned me that someone was coming for me. How he did that, I wasn’t sure. But it was him.

Slowly, I made my way back to my dorm room. I quickly fired off a message in the ‘Spook Searchers’ group chat as I did, wanting to let the others know what happened. I was just about to slip my phone back in my pocket when I noticed that I had a notification on Messenger still. It was from someone who wasn’t considered a friend. Curious, I hit it open and saw that it was from Katherine Howard. I was a little unsure of who that was until I read the message.

7:52

Katherine:

listen I thought about it

come meet me at the shop and we’ll talk

bring your friends if you want to idc

Shoot, that a while ago. It was nearly 9 now. I sent back a reply saying I was coming now if that was okay. The little green dot saying she was online appeared, and the little meatballs showed up saying she was writing back. All she said was “yes,” so I gritted my teeth and walked briskly towards the store.

My ribs felt like they were stabbing me as I approached the store. I wiped at the sweat that starting to form on my forehead despite the cold weather. I was really, really, really getting sick of being hurt from these ghosts. If this kept up, I was going to need more serious stuff than just some Tylenol and Ibuprofen.

There was a single light on in the store as I got closer. I peeked through the window and jumped when the door swung open. Katherine hurried me in and quickly closed the door behind us, making sure it was locked. She directed me to follow her into the back where she sat on the counter and offered me the stool. I sat on it gingerly, watching her carefully.

Katherine was tugging on her hair, a nervous gesture from what I saw last time we spoke. It was tied back in a messy ponytail with pink tips, and I could see a hearing aid resting in her left ear. She had long nose and stunning green eyes that were watching me carefully as well. Her eyes darted to the door and back to me before she hunched her shoulders.

“Did no one else want to come?” she asked, moving her hands at the same time.

I shook my head. “I didn’t ask them, actually. I just got back from business and come over here.”

“Business?”

“The supernatural kind.”

She exhaled through pursed lips as she nodded. “Right. Well…I thought about what you asked of me.”

I waited for her to continue, but she just sat there and said nothing. I frowned and with an indication of my hand, I motioned her to continue.

Katherine sighed, dropping her hands to rest on the countertop. “What you’re asking of me is very dangerous. Like, stupidly dangerous. I thought long and hard about it, because it’s not just some decision I’m gonna make on the fly…but… I’ll help.”

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? How come?”

“Because, when I talked to my mom about it, she said it was the right thing for me to do,” Katherine huffed. “Whatever the hell that means. When I asked her why she couldn’t just do it, she said that she couldn’t anymore.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay…” I tried to shift, which was a bad idea. Closing my eyes, I focused on taking a deep breath through my nose. It actually made it worse.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a little sore,” I said through gritted teeth. “So, not to come off as rude, but are you actually a witch? I know Michael was a little blunt in his approach last time.”

Katherine’s face went slightly pink as she nodded. “Magic is real. My mom taught me all that she knows. But if you guys need me to do a banishment or exorcism or whatever, that’s a really heavy spell. I’m gonna be wiped out after that.”

“Good to know.” I stood up, not being able to withstand the discomfort anymore. “I’m sorry that I’ve put you in this position, but I’m really grateful that you’re helping us out. It means a lot to me.”

Katherine looked away. “Whatever. It’s the right thing to do. Someone shouldn’t suffer like that because the acts of another did that to them.”

My eyes must be playing tricks on me, because I thought I saw something flicker around Katherine’s head when she said that. But there was nothing there. I did still have that strange sense like I did last time, however. I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but there was something that was calling to me. It was very puzzling.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” I asked. “Because if it was, I’m going to head back to my room. I’ve got some stuff to catch up on.”

Katherine nodded and slipped off the desk with grace. She walked over to the door and glanced through the window before unlocking it. She glanced at me with her hand resting on the handle. “We’ll have to do it before the full moon next week, otherwise I’m worried this guy will be too much for me to handle. I’ll get a boost too, but I’m not risking my head for this.”

I thought back to our last full moon encounter with Fredrik and shuddered. “No complaints from me. Thanks so much, Katherine. I really mean it.”

“You’re welcome, sheesh,” she pulled the door open for me. “Be safe walking home… Uh, Ally?”

“Ally,” I confirmed with a smile.

“Right. Okay, well, I’ll message you when we should do. Might be in the next couple of days.”

“Okay, just let me know. Bye, and have a goodnight.”

“You too,” she said quietly. She watched me leave and walk a little up the street before ducking back inside and most likely locking the door again.

At least one good thing happened before the night ended. Knowing that we had someone who was willing to help us with our Fredrik problem was a way better ending than me nearly getting killed by David’s monster form. The stabbing pain in my ribs was now a dull throbbing, which might not be the best sign in the world. I just needed to get back to my room and take some meds before heading to bed. God, this semester couldn’t end fast enough if it wanted to.

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #dahlia cressman #mags richard #ghosts #paranormal #romance #wlw romance #sapphic lead #murder mysteries #writing #orginal work #orginal writing #original story

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Life After Snowpiercer: First Order of Business

Summary- 6.6k Curtis x Y/N. Dealing with the captured front enders, it's time for Curtis to make a choice in how to combine the people. You begin helping the Doctor, and discuss what options are available to you. Warnings- Mentions of death, assault, rape, abortion.

Chapter 9 / Masterlist

“Okay, explain it to me.” Curtis had his arms folded over his chest and a brow raised, trying to make sense with what the trains engineer was saying. The engineer opened his mouth to start again. “There is a battery that's been charging on the train, as the train moved it built up a charge and was stored. It's been going... what 17 years now?” The engineer shrugged his answer. “I can't begin to tell you how long it will last, but Im gonna guess a damn long while.”

“Why? Why would Wilford have a back up plan built on the train?” John asked from nearby, Curtis waiting on an answer. The engineer turned his gaze away from the imposing man in front of him to the other.

“Cause if the train ever had to stop Wilford needed a way to keep things going. There was emergency switches to turn off certain sections from receiving power and water, make it last longer. So you get to that box, and you can still control that.”

“Where is that?” Curtis questioned, thinking of all the times Wilford could have just cut the power on them. In fact he probably had a few times, recalling the blackouts in the tail end. If the train ever stopped, they would have been dead in days, frozen and starvation, dehydration. They would have just cut the tail end off and continued. “Your going to show John and cut off any cars still attached that were not currently using.” He instructed, and as they left, Curtis turned to the rest of the front enders waiting for his next move.

So far going through the surviving front enders was a bit tedious and Curtis could feel a headache coming on, a press of his fingers to the bridge of his nose did little to help his headache behind his eyes. He had been interviewing them all night, with questions like “What did you do before the crash, what skills can you provide.” General questions to how they could help the survivors, gauge where their loyalties lay. John and Johanna joined him in this, a sharp nod or shake no as to what they thought of the individual.

So far most seemed generally harmless. Scared, wide eyed, just looking for someone to tell them what to do. Curtis was pleased to find that it wasn't just the 'high class' front enders he had here for the most part. No, he actually got lucky enough to find some that had skills. People who knew how to work the plants in the greenhouse, some that cared for the animals that had actually survived, that in itself was a blessing Curtis never even suspected would have actually survived the derail.

A Doctor was next, a medical professional in the train that survived, and once he stepped forward for his questioning and revealed what he did, Curtis sighed internally with relief. “Doctor you say... good, we have immediate need for you right now.” He stated, turning to Edgar instructing him to bring the doctor to the injured when Dr.Price pulled up short. “Im not going anywhere with you.”

This set Curtis off, quick to cross the small space between him and the doctor, his eyes snapping at the man. “You will do as we say. We have a people in the medical rooms all needing attention now. We never had a doctor to care for us. The Nurses we did have no equipment to try and keep us alive. Wilford shot them both.” Curtis all but snarled out, his hand coming out to fist in the doctors shirt pulling him close, face to face. “Leaving behind there untrained daughter to keep us alive. So when I say go help the people in the medical car... I wasn't asking you, I was telling you Dr. to go treat the remaining people.”

Dr.Pierce’s eyes widened and he shook his head, not fighting Curtis, but still not willing to make the effort to follow through with his commands. “Listen, we have plenty of wounded as well, who Im currently helping.” Curtis looked over his shoulder at the frightened people cowering, just as they used to do in the tail end. Yes, these people weren’t filthy in the way they were, but the same fear rolled through the crowd, the same defiant eyes hating him just as he had hated Wilford. He loosened his grip and stepped back from the Doctor. Was he being no better then WIlford right now?

It wasn't easy to trust any of them with the remaining people, but they were now in his charge as well, this wasn't what he was supposed to be, another Wilford. Curtis set out to set the tail end free, not cage the front end. “How many are wounded?”

The Doctor was quick with his response. “There’s two with some serious injuries and minor stuff. I'm okay with helping those in the medical car, it's an oath I took before we lived like this. But I'm not abandoning them either.” Curtis looked over his shoulder, motioning for Johanna to join him.

“Get some people to move the injured into the medical area, along with anyone else Dr...?” Curtis arched a brow and Pierce filled in the question. “Pierce says need to go with him. Then ask everyone to meet me outside where camps set up.” They nodded and Johanna went to get a couple more people to help with the severely injured, another splitting off to help Dr.Pierce prepare the patients. Curtis turned away from the rest of the group, stepping out of the cart, leaving the rest behind for now. The sun just started to come up, and stretch it's light in haze's of pink and oranges across the sky, lighting up the sky. Would he ever get tired of this sight? No.

“What are you thinking Curtis?” Edgar came up next to him, the younger man was surveying the camps set up around the train, a bit anxious at what Curtis was possibly considering.

“We can't just keep them locked up Edgar... I’m going to talk to everyone at once, we have to give them a chance right? Fucking hell if I know, but you saw them. There's hardly any fight there at all. They are just as blindsided as the rest of us.”

Edgar didn't seem to fully support what Curtis was saying, his hand coming up to the back of his neck and rubbing at it, wincing from the pain in his back, it was hard to forget it was the front enders that had tried to kill him, another part of his mind that it was Curtis who turned away to continue forward. “They are from the front end, you saw what happened when Matt put some rifles in their hands Curtis. They were ready to kill us.”

“Its not like we came up with fucking picnic baskets wanting to be friends Edgar. They were just as scared we were going to attack as we were. Go let people know.” Curtis shut down the conversation for now, nodding to the man guarding the door as he swung down the train. Edgar did as he was asked, going to gather people up from the camp. Curtis went to go see where you were, and then meet up with everyone. Things we're going to be changing again. He prayed for the better.

You woke with a start, shooting straight up in bed to the barely there light streaming through the window behind your head. A glance around the small room let you know you were alone, and you twisted yourself to sit up. Already you felt better then you had yesterday, and curious as to where Curtis was, you started pulling clothes on, the last was his beanie he must have forgotten. Stuffing that on your head as well, planning on bringing it to him. Making your way out, you caught sight of Yona up ahead, the teenager picking her way towards you with a smile. “Curtis is coming up to get us.”

You hadn't really gotten to know the girl yet, but her eyes and smile were warm, and from the bit Curtis told you, he highly valued her opinion. Smiling at her in greeting “well then, let's go see what he wants, shall we?” the two of you heading off together, and once out of the sleeping section the train hollowed out for more people to be gathered. You found Curtis talking to individuals in passing. A wave of your hand caught his attention, and he finished up a conversation he was having and met you halfway. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Oh Yona said you already were... ?” You questioned with a look to the girl, who just smiled knowingly and gave a shrug.

“I’m gathering people outside... “ Hearing that Yona took her leave to go with the others. And Curtis led you away from prying ears. “The prisoners, you were right.They are just looking for someone to tell them what to do. I'm not going to hold them hostage, would make us no better then Wilford. I will make the consequences clear and any will be free to try there luck out on the ice.” You nodded slightly, looking up at him. You could see the worry in his eyes, the way it lined his features. Hard set in stone resolve, that stiffened his back. You pressed your hand against his clenched tension filled fist, and worked your fingers to weave with his. His hand finally released and relaxed in yours.

“Were not like Wilford, and we won't ever be that way.” Your hand squeezed in support and he visibly relaxed, some of the tension easing from his features. He had your support, it was all he needed. Reaching up to yank off his beanie from your head, you let his hand go with your other and leaned up to tip toes to put it on his head, giving him a peck on his lips. “Your a better man then Wilford ever was, we will get through this.”

Curtis gaze softened as he reached up to readjust his beanie, and dropping to run his fingers along your cheek. “You seem pretty sure of me Babygirl.”

“Of course I am Handsome, come on.”

Together you two went out to where everyone was gathered now, waiting to see what was next. Was it good news? Bad? It had them all on edge, unsure of what to expect anymore. Your hand rest against his back, and Curtis looked over familiar faces and unfamiliar ones.

“So you all know we have a car full of people, from the front end. Workers mostly, they tended to the people in the front, maintenance and such. We can't just keep them locked up, and forgotten. So those that want to stay with us can, they will help rebuild.” Even as Curtis got the words out, there was resistance, protests being thrown out. “What they ever do for us?” “Left us in the tail end to rot.” “say we just get rid of them.” Curtis’s brow furrowed and he shouted out “Enough! Does anyone have anything beneficial to say or is it how they were just from the front end and we should kill them?”

There was a sort of hush, then someone did step forward, a man you didn't recognize and suspected he was from another car. “Say we let them disperse amongst us back end people. Who's to say were not in danger from them? You going to excuse them or let us actually defend ourselves? They did just try to kill us yesterday.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Curtis remained calm.

“They were following Matts orders and were afraid for there lives. Would any of you had reacted any different if roles were reversed?” He pointedly stopped and waited before continuing. “Were not going to tolerate any danger to ourselves... Or them, should anyone of us survivors kill one another, they are done. We're all that's left. There's no tolerance for murders, rapists or thieves.”

“And who decides? You? Are you taking over as 'Leader'?”

Curtis shook his head. “No, Im not labeling myself as leader, in fact I have given some thought, and a Leader just is like when Wilford ran the train.” You were curious, having not heard anything further on how they would proceed forward. “And if you all agree, along with the others, we will make a council. Someone from all the sections left.” Your hand rubbed assuring against his back, and there was a visual shift in the crowd, some who agreed, and some who didn’t. The rise in vocal yays and nays started to pick up, and somewhere in the back a argument broke out.

Edgar cussed out loud as he pushed through the group to reach where people started getting a bit physical, and Curtis hopped down to help break it up. You shared a look with Johanna who was next to you, and you decided enough was enough. “HEY!” you shouted in a sharp demand, and everyone stopped, looking up at you in surprise. “Cut the crap, alright? None of you can see the benefits of what Curtis is saying. Those people, y'all hate so much can keep us the fuck alive.” They looked doubtful, arms crossing over chests in defiance. “Can any of you properly grow food in a enclosed ecosystem, understand how this train works. Any of you know why the train is still running electricity or water? Fix up our people with actual medicine? Cause I sure as hell don’t. Hmm? Who knows what else. We're guessing here people, all of it. We've been stuck for the past 17 years scraping to just survive. How about we expand from that and start fucking living.” Johanna and John both came up side you for show of support.

“Curtis already explained the council, so everyone has fair representation, were not going to make them into anything less then equals, cause fuck they are just trying to survive as well. No, they didn't struggle like we did, they might have been given better accommodations from Wilford, can we blame them for what they have had to do to survive? Any one of us might have done the same thing given the chance back then if we knew.” Your eyes searched over the faces to see if anyone would disagree with you.

“And what about Matt? You just letting him go?” Someone asked. Your head shook out a no. “Right now, probably not. Not for a damn long time at least. Not till we're all sure he can be trusted. That would be a matter something like a council would weigh together and decide after discussing it with the group, that means all of us.” you breathed out, feeling the tightness in your chest just discussing your brother. “Curtis... I will be in the medical car if you need me.” Ending with having your say, Curtis nodded at you, his eyes flashing with worry for a moment, before turning back to the crowd. “Any more questions?”

You made your way through the cars, passing kids playing, older couples settling into new accommodations that didn't feel the need to attend the meeting, they would accept whatever at this point. And you finally came into what looked almost like a waiting room from your childhood, at the far end a curtain was pulled shut, just the shadows of people stretched in it's fabric. Working through the crowd, you poked your head around with a ''hey to see a Doctor working on Sara. Sara whom you tried hard to help, but now she was laid out, not in pain, she looked almost in bliss as the doctor looked up, his brows coming together. “If you have something urgent...you got to wait.”

“I was just coming to see if you needed help Dr. I have some training and I know a lot of the patients out there, my name is Y/N by the way.”

“Dr.Price, and I’m certainly not gonna turn you down on the offer. Go scrub up, and we will get started.” His eyes warmed when he smiled, and you immediately started to do as he asked, relieved to be of use again.

Curtis went to talk with the front enders, which it went a lot smoother then his previous chat went, all of them agreeing with the terms, and conditions. The people who ran the industrious food giving cars immediately went to there posts, along with handfuls of tail enders to help them clean up the mess the derailing caused, Curtis, John and Edgar organized teams to do some of the harder work. They had to get the dead removed, at least as quickly as possible from the liveable cars. It was something they had all avoided discussing, going car thru car to find the dead.

“What are we uh... going to do with them?” Edgar asked as the opened another door and looked in, looking at little green. Curtis was having a hard time with it, the heaviness of knowing these people would still be alive if he hadn't shoved his hand into the gears. The ache in his arm he figured was the least he deserved, his tone was clipped when he spoke. “Were going to have to burn them, it's the only way to get through this many people. If we just bury them under the snow, and it ever melts, they will just rot.” Having a plan in place, they got to work, dragging bodies wrapped in blankets away, someone finding gasoline and matches to light them on fire. It made for a long day. As it turned dark, the fire glowed bright as a beacon should there be any other people out there.

The lights flickered on in the doctors office as Price hit the switch, and looked in the waiting area. “Think were done for the night.” It was just the two of you left, and you perched against the examination table. “Not quite, Curtis should be by soon, and I really need you to look at his arm. Then there's me.” You admitted, your arm going around your midsection in a defensive way, and the doctor arched a brow. “Okay, what's going on with you?” He asked kindly, his voice made you relax a little.

“I might be pregnant, and I’m not sure if you happen to have anything for me, and some other women who might be in the same situation I am.” Your nose wrinkled to keep from letting yourself get to worked up, doing your best to keep this from turning into you crying in frustration, fear and trauma.

“Unfortunately Child, Tests went extinct a few years ago. But the best way to tell now is waiting for your cycle to happen. Do you have a estimate of when you start?”

You gave a shake of your head, time had been impossible to follow in the tail end. “No no... but I haven't ever missed before that I know of .”

“It’s the best way now, although not entirely reliable. If you don’t, then in the future I can do an exam for a fetus. Does the potential father know?”

Here is where your tears spilled and you covered your face in your shame, shaking your head. “There isn't a father, it wasn't consensual...” And suddenly Curtis came around the curtain, having heard part of the conversation, his arms immediately coming around you, rubbing along your back as you went from crying in your hands to his chest. His hand moved along the back of your head, holding you close as he spoke to Dr.Price, who just observed the interaction. “If she's pregnant and she decides to continue, then I would be the father.”

“Okay, if you happen to be Y/N, we are equipped to handle it in the way you should so choose.” Dr.Price started once you had calmed down, still tucked up against Curtis, but able to stay calm. “There are risks with either choice, so that's something you two will have to discuss. You should have any others come see me to, so I can talk to them.” Both you and Curtis nodded at him, and he reached down taking your hand in the very same way you had take his earlier, giving a light squeeze. “And for those interested... “ He looked directly at Curtis. “If you don’t mind spreading the word that I can do vasectomies to any that don’t want to risk it.”

“Yea, I will be sure to start letting people know. “ Curtis assured Dr.Price, rubbing the small of your back and on your hand you could feel him feathering his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. Dr.Price gave a reassuring smile to the both of them. He turned to a closet, and opened the door, stepping inside, and came back out with box of condoms, handing it over. “Use these for now. We do have limited amount of birth control supplies.” Your eyes widened as you took the box. “Like... actual prevention.” stunned as you turned the box over in your hands.

“Yes, I will only be giving it out to dedicated couples for now. There just isn't enough otherwise to go around unfortunately. Wilford had extreme rules for the front end. Every family was only allowed to have one child.” He said with some regret as he closed the door behind him, not offering more of an explanation as to what would happen should an unexpected pregnancy happen. “And they are damn old, so it's a risk, m'kay? Use with extreme caution.” You gave them to Curtis, nodding with understanding what he was saying. “So Y/N, just wait to see when your cycle comes, okay? We will know soon and you can decide where you would like to do from there. Try not to stress yourself sick over it. Now, I have an arm to look at?”

You tilted your head to look at Curtis. “It really needs to be looked at and cleaned up Curtis.” You move away while he went to shrug off his coat, and you took it from him. You bit your lip with a bit of anxiety while Curtis also reached over his shoulder and tugged off his shirt. “Just easier than trying to roll a sleeve up over it.” He remarked as he held his arm out. Standing behind Curtis, this had to be the first time you’ve seen him in bright light like this. And all over his back were little marks like scars. Nothing serious, but pale pink marks scattered across the spanse of his shoulders, and down. It tighten your chest seeing the struggles of their survival, how many times had Curtis been in pain and never said a word.

You really couldn't help in, your hand braced against his back and he stiffined a moment while the doctor looked over his arm. He glanced over his shoulder to see you sliding your hand, across his upper back, the tip of your finger tracing some of the bigger ones. He couldn't help the ripple of muscle that followed your touch and you pulled away, mouthing sorry. Curtis gave a light shake of his head. I missed your touch Babygirl, flashing you a smile before he turned back to the doctor finishing up.

“Let me tell you, your damn lucky. The scabs are keeping everything sealed up from infection. If any of them come off and it's an open wound, you haul ass here to me. You got it? No waiting. If any kind of infection settles in, you can easily loose your arm.” He twisted it a bit, and frowned at a few bright red spots that had some heat lining around the jagged cuts. “But just to be safe, Im giving you a shot to deal with any infection. I'm sure your white blood count is off right now dealing with this.” He prepped a shot for Curtis and you came around to see what his arm looked like. It looked so angry to you, all of it even hid his old scar from years ago. Dr.Pierce swabbed at Curtis upper arm and promptly gave the shot, without Curtis even paying attention. “well that finished that up, unless you two got more to fill me in on tonight?”

“No... I think that's everything I can think of.” You say and Curtis agrees with a subtle 'all good’ while putting his shirt back on, and taking his jacket from you, to drap over his arm. Dr.Price held out his hand, giving a firm shake to each of you. “Then I'm bidding you two good night, I'm exhausted and will be back in the morning. Y/N, if you got no other plans, I could use your help again. Curtis, I respect what your trying to do here. Good night.”

“Good Night Dr. Pierce, I will stop by tomorrow.” You assured him and all together you left, he turned one way, you two turned another. Curtis kept his arm around your shoulder, checking in on Yona. You leaned against the doorframe while Curtis made sure the girl was all set up, she had found a book somewhere and was struggling to read it to herself. It occurred to you she might only know the basics, making a mental note about seeing if she could help you with the orphans once you started to get in a routine. She would benefit from the lessons. “Night Yona" you waved your fingers at her and the girl did the same in a friendly manner.

Once you two reached the room, Curtis growled going in, rubbing at his face. “tomorrow I'm really switching our room for one with a bed.” You chuckle as you shuck off the outer clothing, and sitting on the edge of the couch to remove your boots. “Did everything else go okay?” You ask while toeing your boots off and leaned back against your hands, watching Curtis dig out his pockets. Apparently he brought a few cans with him. Dinner for the night to pair off with the jar of peanut butter Tam brought the night before. “It was... long. But everyone seemed on board after what you said, and let's just cross our fingers nothing happens tonight with anyone.” Using a knife, he started to pry off the top of a jar of fruit, and peeled off the top to set it aside. “We also started taking care of the dead, burning them several miles away.” His jaw tensed as he glanced out the window to see the red glow a ways in the distance, of it dying down.

Flicking his knife closed, he put it back in his pocket, and fingers closed around the box the doctor had given them. Taking it out and flipping it in his fingers looking at it. You had dipped your finger into the peanut butter jar when you saw it, unfolding off the couch and approaching him, biting your lip. “Did you ever use one before Curtis?” His brows arched at your question and gave a bit of a chuckle and quirk of a grin. “Yes, before the train I had, not a lot, I was just 17, but enough. They are not hard to use.” Curtis studied your face, the look of curiosity as well as tension and hints of fear. Giving a shake of his head, Curtis opened a drawer and tossing them in to shut them out of sight. “And you don't have to fret about them Babygirl, your not ready.”

You dropped your face to look down, picking at your fingers, Curtis slid his fingers underneath your chin to lift it to have you look at him, cupping your face in between his hands. “There's no rush Babygirl, whenever it happens for us again, it's because you want to and were ready to.”

You couldn't help the irrational thoughts swirling through your mind, and even though Curtis has already assured you that it wasn't the case, there was always that dark part saying you were ruined for him. “Its not because you don’t-" Curtis cut you off right there dropping a kiss on your lips, and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Not at all Babygirl, it wasn't your fault. I wouldn’t ever look at you any differently. Your still as beautiful to me as when we first got to know each other. Come on, get ready for bed Sweetness.” He said softly, and the two of you got comfortable for the night, Curtis turning you two to easier converstaions.

Weeks passed and just a few mishaps had happened, but nothing serious. There was still some tension between the tail end people and the front end, but much to Curtis pleasure, there were more people actually trying than not. A council did get made after some time, a fair representation of all the people. Curtis was chosen to represent the tail end, even though he encouraged others, you had found it quite amusing how shocked he was about the whole ordeal. John was the second tail enders choice, Dr.Price and a woman named Madison was chosen to represent the front end. So far the first order of business was what to do about Matt. And it was unanimous that he was kept locked up.

You became a permanent resident working with Dr.Price, seeing how the tail enders were still nervous about the doctor, and there health issues were various. You had convinced the other women who were in the end car during the revolt to see the doctor and talk about the attacks. Like you, it was all a waiting game, and it was a heavy knot in your stomach most days. Curtis would check in several times a day, pulling you aside as his eyes searched yours, and you would smile, tilting up to kiss him and assure him you were fine. That day you were cleaning up a scraped knee, the little boy sniffling as you rolled up his pants leg. “my name is Y/N” You tell him as you set your stool in front of him and pour some cleaner on a cloth. You didn't know him, so you figured he must be one of the other car residents. “Whats your name?”

A couple sniffles as he looks at his knee and a little miserable voice finally answered. “Tommy... but you can call me Tom. I'm getting to old for Tommy.” He said, trying to sound a bit tougher, and you were very gentle, dabbing at his knee to clean up the blood. It was certainly not as worse as it seemed, but you praised Tommy up. “Well Tom, this was a nasty fall. Your really tough.” You put on some antiseptic cream, remembering not to long ago you couldn't do this much, and here you were getting ready to put a bandage on a scrape, if only to make a little boy feel better. Tommy wiped at his eyes to get rid of the tears. “Really? I tripped when playing tag with the other kids.”

“Oh certainly Kiddo.” You heard Curtis voice behind you and a glance over your shoulder showed him coming around the curtain. “You heard Curtis.” You agree turning back to Tommy while un peeling a band-aid from the wrapper. Curtis heavy hands came to rest on your shoulders, massaging them while you attended to your patient. “In fact, tougher than Curtis.” You whispered to him, and Tommy’s eyes widened as they looked from you to the tall man standing behind you, in which Curtis was nodding in agreement.

“Yup, and you have the best nurse there is. She fixes me up all the time, and everything is all better afterwards.” You couldn't help but smile to yourself hearing him, sticking the bandage on his knee and rolling down his pants leg. “Okay Tom. You are all set to go.” You moved to a stand, to feel Curtis hand slide down your back to curve around your waist as Tommy said a quick thank you, and raced off, all fixed and ready to play again. Curtis chuckled watching the boy duck out of the car into the next. “Good job Nurse Y/N.” and you winked up at him, rubbing his chest as you leaned in his side. “I had a little help, what are you doing here though? I thought you were helping out with clean up.”

“Ahhh, I was, but I have a surprise for you. I came down to see if you were busy.”

“No, Dr.Price is doing some rounds on the train doing check ups, I was about to head into the kitchen to help out. But for you, I can spare... 3 minutes.” You teased as Curtis led you out. “Where we going?”

“Well Babygirl... A surprise means I can't tell you.” He smirked at you, his arms circled your waist from behind and he tipped his head to place a soft kiss just below your ear. You whined a bit to play back, reaching for his hands and taking them in your own, palms pressed to the tops of his hands, and weaving your fingers with his own.

“You can give me a hint Curtis.” you ask hopefully, just maybe he would give some clue as to what he had.

“Okay... Your going to really like it.” He teased as the two of you went down another walkway, and he pulled you two to a stop.

“You know, that isn't much of a clue Handsome.” You look up at him while turning to face him, your hands releasing his to cross over your chest, He looked so damn excited, that you couldn't help but bite your lip at the anticipation.

“Well close your eyes and I can get you ready.” He grasps your shoulders and turns you to face a closed door, making you snap your eyes shut and a hand went over your eyes. The click of the door sounded and his breath was warm when he whispered in your ear. “Okay take five steps forward and stop.”

You took five tentative steps like he asked, and the click sounded again. He removed his hand and said from behind you. “Okay... Open them.” When you did, you were greeted with a new live in room, so much larger then the last one, it was still all one room, but this had a large bed, with a window that stretched the length of the room giving a wall length view outside, and you spun on your heels to continue looking around. An easy chair that was for relaxing next to a table, nearby a door going into what you assumed was the bathroom, which you stepped into, your jaw dropping just a bit. “That’s an actual tub... not a shower.” You stepped back out, Curtis tilting his head with arched brows.

“You like this room? If you don't I can switch us back, we just finished going through this car and I thought that this would be a better-” he was rambling and you caught him by surprise, tugging on his shirt to drag him down, and your lips met his with excitement and happiness. You pressed him to back up to the easy chair which he fell back into and you straddled his lap, to cup his face and feather soft kisses across his face. “Its perfect, really. More than I could have asked for Curtis.” His hands rested on your thighs on either side of him, sliding his hands along the tops and over to your waist, holding you while his blue eyes for the first time in weeks seemed content and relaxed.

Your arms slid around his neck, and you leaned into his chest with your head tilting to rest on his shoulder. Curtis slid his hands just under your shirt, rubbing small circles along your hips and lower back. He was content, the best hes felt since that day of the Revolt. Besides sleeping at night, this was the most intimate you've been with him, and he wouldn't look a gift in the mouth. These moments Curtis had long ago learned to appreciate. His head dropped and kissed the hollow between your shoulder and neck. “I love you Babygirl.”

Your arms tightened around his neck a bit more when he said that. “I love you to Handsome.”

Cars away Edgar made his way towards where they were keeping the prisoner. His memories of Matt were few and far between. A boy who would play with him, doing races or climbing the bunks in a hide and seek with Y/N. It upset Edgar deep down that Matt no longer seemed to be his friend that he remembered. Now, he was just a tyrannical man, bent on bringing his friends to an end. He held up the bag of food to show the guard, and by passed the man standing at the entrance, flicking on a light to show Mat laying on his side, situated in a pallet Curtis had made for him. Heavy chain with a cuff circling his foot. They had come across the equipment in the livestock car, if it was good enough to keep an animal in it's place, it was good enough for a prisoner.

“Got yer food...” Edgar approached cautiously, and set it down, nudging it closer with his foot. Matt looked over his shoulder and pushed to sit up, pulling the bag closer and looking in. “Is there gonna come a day you all give me something real?” He pulled out some heels of bread, and chewed on it while Edgar sat away from him, working on opening a can.

“Until we are better situated, this is what we got for you. If you look there is some chicken in there to.” Edgar pried off the lid and was sure to set it further away, knowing it could easily cut someone should Matt get ahold of it. “Be fucking thankful, would ya? We don't have to give you anything. Let you starve.”

“My sister would never allow that.” Matt said with confidence, digging out the chicken leg and peeling the flesh off to pop it into his mouth. “Curtis though... Given the chance, he would. Y'all think I'm cold hearted. Well...” He shrugged, and Edgar frowned as he harshly pushed the can of vegetable over to him.

“Shut your fucking mouth, ya don't know what your talking about.”

“Oh don't I Edgar?” He quickly snatched the can before it could be taken away, Scooping out mixed veggies and shoving them in his mouth like he was starving. “How much do you really know about your precious 'leader of the tail end' ?”

Edgar snarled in anger, using the knife to press against Matt's throat and took back the can that was mostly gone and the bag that was almost empty now. “You don't even deserve to talk about him, after what you did. Helping Wilford, all those innocent kids y'all took.” Pulling away, Matt leaned back against the metal wall.

“What... just trying to survive? Cause none of us done that.” Watching closely, he could see he got Edgar flustered, the way he was picking up the stuff he brought and shoving it into the bag, his actions were more like jerks in agitation. Matt hid a smirk, having just laid his foundation in the young man's mind. As Edgar went to stomp out, Matt said calmly. “See you around Edgar... Tell Curtis and Y/N I said 'Hi’. “ Edgar shot a look at him, and the steel door slammed shut, leaving Matt whistling a child hood uplifted tune in the dark, waiting for his moment.

Tags- @what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @jtargaryen18 @stardancerluv @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @fckdeusername @that-damn-girl @curtisbbq @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @thatweirdwalangpake @simsadventures

#snowpiercer #snowpiercer fanfiction #Snowpiercer fandom #snowpiercer Curtis #curtis everett #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x y/n #curtis everett x you #curtis fanfiction #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett dark #violence #curtis everett violence #snowpiercer violence #chris evans character #curtis fic #curtis everett fic

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jesuiscalmedammit · 4 years

Text

Will you be a good girl? || [Pink x Cyan]

note: This is an Among Us fic. I didn’t put much effort into this, but I saw some amazing artwork here and got this idea. Also, it’s a great game. If you haven’t tried it yet, do it. But try not to look sus.

warning: If you know the game, you know people die. I warned you.

“Are you mad at me for saying we should keep this a secret?” Cyan asked as they walked down the hallway. Considering he wasn’t really one of the crew, and his only job was to make sure they didn't make it home, this question should have been utterly meaningless. But he truly started to like her and a part of him was anxious about how she would react to a request like this.

Without hesitation, Pink turned to him with a sweet smile as she shook her head. “No, no, don’t worry, I get it.”

“I promise it’s only temporary. I’ll sneak into your room later tonight, okay?” he asked with a wolfish grin, only to get playfully punched on the arm.

“I don’t know, that sounds kinda shady,” she told him before letting out a heartfelt laugh. “I might call an emergency meeting if you show up.”

Oh, right, the emergency meetings. “Ugh, I swear Red is paranoid.” Or maybe not, but Pink didn’t have to know. Red had noticed the attempted and failed sabotages but had no proof so far. For their luck, she didn’t even have a suspect yet. Killing her now would only make it clear she was right, so the best they could do was waiting and being more cautious. “Why would any of us sabotage the mission?” he asked eventually, trying to sound like he was honestly doubtful.

Pink shrugged. “We’ve been on this ship for quite a long time, I guess it took a toll on her.”

“Well, either way, if she calls another false emergency meeting, I’ll kick her off the ship myself the moment we stop at a space station,” Cyan joked.

“Come on, go easy on her.”

“Anyway, I really have to go.” To avoid suspicion, he and the other impostor had to do the crew’s usual tasks on the ship, so even though staying with her for the rest of the day sounded tempting, he didn’t have the luxury of doing it. Before he left, though, Cyan wanted to give her a quick kiss on the lips, but he soon realized it was impossible at the moment. “Yeah, right, the helmet. Stupid suit. See you later.”

“Can’t wait,” she said with a wide grin before turning around to walk in the other direction.

But Pink’s good mood disappeared the moment she stepped into Communications. “Yellow? What th–” She fell silent when she realized what she had just seen. He was about to sabotage the ship. “Red was right all along,” she finished her train of thought.

“You shouldn’t have seen this.”

Before she could say anything, Yellow pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.

As Pink took a cautious step back, she asked, “What, you want to kill me now?”

“I can’t risk you telling everyone.”

Suddenly she threw her tablet at him then used this opportunity to run out of the room. Yellow quickly rushed after her, hoping he could take her down quietly before she could press that goddamn red button. Pulling the trigger on the hallway would be too loud and he couldn’t risk alerting the other crew members. Luckily the only person he spotted way ahead was someone he was actually glad to see.

“Cyan, stop her or she’ll call an emergency meeting!”

“What?” he sounded surprised at first but then saw Pink running in his direction and immediately understood what was going on. Why her? Why couldn’t it be any other member of the crew? Despite his troubled feelings, though, Cyan quickly stopped her by wrapping his arms around her body and pulled her into the nearest empty room. “Pink, hey, calm down. What’s going on?”

“I–I saw Yellow sabotage the comm system. Red isn’t paranoid, we need to tell–”

Shaking his head as he cursed under his breath, he carefully turned her around, still firmly holding her in one place in front of him. “Okay, stop,” he told her seriously then waited until she finally paid proper attention to him. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“She won’t because I’ll kill her right here and right now,” Yellow said in the background, already raising his handgun.

“No, you won’t!” Cyan yelled at him so harshly that the fellow impostor lowered the gun and tilted his head to the side. But he couldn’t care about him now, convincing Pink to do as he said was more important. “Listen, I can only protect you if you keep quiet about this.”

For long seconds she watched him in silence, tears running down her face as she finally spoke up. “How could you do this to us? How the hell could you betray us like that?”

“This is why we were sent here,” he began to explain, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. “We need to make sure you don’t make it back home.”

It took her a short while, but she eventually put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Where are the real Cyan and Yellow?” she asked quietly.

Yellow let out an annoyed groan in the background. “They’re dead. And soon you’ll be too.”

“Shut up!” Cyan shouted at him again. “Can I let you go? Will you be a good girl?” he asked Pink who nodded in response.

Slowly and carefully he let go of her, glad that she finally understood this was the only way he could save her. He didn’t want her to die, not after what had happened between them. Once their mission was over, he would find a way to flee somewhere far and remote where they could spend the rest of their lives together in peace.

That was the plan. But it was only his plan. Pink raised her leg and kicked his chest as hard as she could before running out of the room, trying to escape once again. Despite her effort, though, it simply wasn’t enough to make him lose his balance.

“Shit! You fucking idiot!”

Yellow was about to run after her but Cyan stopped him. “I’ll do it myself,” he said quietly then went after the girl, his knife ready in his hand. It only took him a few seconds to catch up with her and the moment he did, he stabbed the knife in her neck, twisting it until her legs gave in and she collapsed on the floor in his arms. “I told you to behave, Pink. Why didn’t you listen?”

note #2: I hope it didn’t suck that much.

#among us #among us fanfiction #among us fanfic #pink (among us)#cyan (among us)#yellow (among us)

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squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 16

AO3

Beta read as always is @thesnadger!

A week sure flies by.

Martin gets some of his thoughts sorted.

Nothing happened.

The sky was unchanged in every way but for the time that had passed. They had bid Evan a good night (“Oh, right, it’s evening now? Should probably give you some idea about time when we talk.”), and Martin stood at the front entrance to stare through the small window. It was grey and downright gloomy out there. Nothing new.

“D’you think Simon and that woman just wanted to mess with me?” Martin said. “Like, say some spooky stuff to make sure I stay quiet about the whole thing?”

“It’s possible,” Jon said, exhaustion clear in his voice. “But there’s still a sky, which is good news, I suppose.”

“And not everything is sky,” Sasha added helpfully. “That seems more Simon’s speed than getting rid of it.”

Tim stretched his arms above his head. “Either way, keep an eye out for a warning text before we all become professional skydivers.”

“At least I’ll have a job lined up?” He wanted to muster up some more concern but after a day of waiting the suspense had run out. If something was going to happen, there was nothing he could do. “Well, goodnight. And don’t stay here too late! You all won’t make it another day without getting proper sleep.”

His eye landed on Jon, who huffed a little. “Yes, yes, we’ll all get a proper rest. Unlike the others I don’t do coffee. Though, let me walk you out. I’d like to get another look at the sky.”

It wasn’t the smoothest transition to accompanying Martin outside, but lack of sleep didn’t make for good excuses. Martin nodded and walked out with Jon in tow.

Once outside, Jon folded his hands together and seemed to consider something. “I think I’m a bit of a broken record at this point, but I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had become concerned about the lack of response from Elias and wanted to get it all back to him before too long.”

Martin looked at him carefully. “So… you think it’ll be enough?”

“Yes. It might even be overkill, but now that I’ve promised multiple people to help fix things, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Jon let his hands fall to his sides. “The apology still stands, though.”

“Well, with you staying longer I’m sure I’ll find a way to even out the apologies between us. There are always papers to scatter.” Martin smiled sheepishly and adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder. “But it would be nice if you didn’t have something to apologize for in the first place.”

“Yes, I recognize that.” Jon rubbed his arm. “I’m trying. I hope that much is clear.”

Martin sighed, the final piece of irritation drifting away. “Yeah, I know. I do accept it, the apology. But maybe try to go without needing to? For like a day?”

Straightening, Jon nodded. “I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I ask.” All of that out of the way, Martin relaxed. “I guess I’ll be going. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, it will be.”Jon stood there as if about to say something else, stopping himself several times. Finally, in earnest, he said, “I’ll… I’ll do as much as I can, to help.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

As Martin walked away, he glanced back and saw that Jon had remained on the front steps, turning his gaze upward with a frown. If this had been a trick, Martin thought, it had done its job quite nicely. He almost regretted bringing it up to the others. They all shouldn’t have had to worry about nothing.

No, that wouldn’t have worked. One of them would’ve picked up on it. Sasha probably, though with that kind of intuition she also should’ve known better than to keep Naomi’s warning a secret from him.

But she apologized, and had only wanted to help. And she had been right about the results. There was no arguing that. It didn’t make it less upsetting, but putting it behind him wouldn’t be difficult. They were all going to be around each other, after all. Martin wanted to enjoy that.

He passed the place where he’d fallen. There was no sign of the event of course, no crack in the street or mark of a skull hitting concrete. No one had been there to witness it, either.

The sky was getting darker still, the street filling more and more with chill and emptiness. Ahead was the wooded cliffside that split his home away from the rest of town, and Martin dearly wished he had someone to walk home with.

The TV was on when he returned home. He slid off his jacket and damp boots by the door and stayed there in his wool socks. There was a numbness to his knees, a soreness to his throat that he couldn’t swallow away. It was getting colder outside, and the sea air always got worse as the year crept closer to winter.

Tea would fix it, once Mum was off to bed.

A sore throat meant talking less, which is what she preferred anyway. He nodded to her once in her chair, then went into dinner preparations. Something warm, something hearty, and something simple. He grabbed the container of beef stew and a cylinder of dinner roll dough from the fridge. Simple and, even better, fast.

Before long there were steaming bowls of meat and vegetables on the table with rolls for dipping. He thanked his past self for thinking ahead as he and his mother ate in silence.

She said nothing, did nothing but her usual routine. There was no going outside with the intense chill that had settled onto the beach. Instead, she went straight to bed without a word spoken.

A tingling in his throat kept him from uttering a single goodnight. He turned out her lamp and closed her door, returning to the kitchen to wash the dishes and make himself some tea with honey. While waiting for the water to boil, he checked his phone and saw a text from earlier.

Tim: got home alright?

Martin: sorry. yeah i made it fine

He hoped his response hadn’t come too late to be worrisome, but Tim responded rather quickly.

Tim: gotcha. no tumbles?

Martin: no nothing

Tim: good. ill let the others know

Tim: so i guess tomorrow is gonna be interesting. its a bit weird to get a project really started on a friday but i was thinking we could all get food afterwards tomorrow, maybe get some drinks

Tim: usually jon skips out on that sort of thing but on trips its easier to get him since he hates making food choices in new places

Tim: you in?

Martin’s thumbs twitched over the phone keyboard. When was the last time he bothered sitting in a restaurant instead of getting takeout? Or went to a bar?

He would have to get his mother settled in with dinner and everything. Her usual bedtime was early, but they were late workers so maybe it would be fine? Would it be fine? Would he be fine?

Shit, he needed to respond.

Martin: sure that would be nice. what time?

Tim: probably later evening, since we’ll be settling work stuff. thinkin 8 or 9 if that works

Martin: yeah that’s perfect actually

Tim: great, see you bright and early! 👍

Martin: have a good night!

Slumping against the counter, Martin looked over the short conversation a few times (perhaps more than a few) and then pocketed his phone.

This was fine. It was getting some food with some people. He would be fine.

The kettle whistled and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Tea, he was making tea for himself. So he did, adding honey and milk to his liking. It was too sweet for his mother or anyone else he knew, but this was for him.

He took the steaming mug in both hands and looked out the window. The sky was still there, as were the beach and crashing waves though he could barely see them. His house still stood around him with the lights on and heat running.

Savings were something he’d finally managed to have in the recent months after years of low-wage customer service positions. He and his mother could survive without income for a little while. Getting through the whole of winter would be a stretch, but his spending habits were fairly restrained and his mother’s medication would still be covered. In the meantime there were other avenues for making money, so this job wasn’t the end-all-be-all.

God, it had been nice though. Martin would hold onto the pay for as long as he could during the whole saving-Evan process, but after that he would have a lot to figure out.

Draining the rest of his mug, he rinsed it out and set it into the sink. The tea had done its job in soothing his throat. The extra warmth in his hands was a blessing as well. He wondered if Jon would be keeping warm at all, though he suspected the truth would be disappointing.

No matter. If the others were working there a while longer Jon would have to adjust to the weather eventually, or else deal with Martin pushing hot mugs of tea into his hands until he learned. Maybe he’d toss in a scarf to complete the set.

With one last glance out the kitchen window, he walked out into the hall and up the stairs, turning off each light as he went. Once in his room, Martin slipped into his pyjamas and reached into the drawer of his bedside table. His poetry notebook had gone ignored for several days, and that needed rectifying.

Where would he even start? The last page he’d written seemed like it was from years before, not a week. Now he had a whole swirl of worries about the future he hadn’t had to deal with since he was in school. Worries and fears and-

And a silly, one-sided thing that while completely hopeless was a nice thing to feel all the same. So just like school, except he had people to meet on a Friday night.

Looking out his window a final time, Martin sat in his bed, bent over his notebook, and began to write. It was clunky at first, the words getting stuck somewhere in his pen or his throat. Part of his mind kept drifting to his mobile on the bedside table, wondering if Tim was still available to talk a bit more about the day ahead. Tiny things to fill a text log, like food options or how Martin would meet up with them. For a moment he even considered asking Tim for Jon and Sasha’s numbers, in case of emergencies.

Better to have that conversation in person, he thought, pulling his attention back to the page. Soon after he was writing short couplets at a quick pace, scraps of rhyme and feeling, until he checked his phone and found an hour had passed. Sleep, he thought. He needed sleep.

It was almost disappointing to have the writing go by so quickly, but there was no helping it. The poetry notebook was placed neatly into its drawer, his glasses were set onto the table, and Martin, wrapped in a thick blanket, stared out into the night until his eyes were too heavy to hold open.

It wasn’t his alarm that woke him the next morning but his ringtone. When he checked the screen, he found notifications for several missed calls from Tim and hurried to answer.

“Tim? What’s-”

One by one, files and folders were packed into car trunks.

He’d wasted no time in getting there, booking it all the way across town, but when he arrived Martin could say nothing at all. Standing near the stairs, he could only watch as the three researchers marched out of the lighthouse with their work things.

Sasha kept the most calm of the three, nodding at Martin as she walked past him. Her fingers tapped furiously on the side of a box, nails making dents in the cardboard.

Something between misery and confusion pulled at Tim’s mouth. More than once Martin worried he would keel over with nausea, but he stayed upright as if out of spite. He met Martin’s eyes a couple of times with a friendly smile, but it never stuck for long.

Jon was stone faced, though his jaw kept clenching and unclenching. He had only looked at Martin once, keeping that neutral expression to the best of his ability but unable to mask his frustration. Whatever he wanted to say, it wouldn’t be said there.

Behind Martin, Peter Lukas stood with his hand gripping the railing, equal measures tired and irritated and making no attempt to hide how much he didn’t want to be there. No, none of them would be saying anything except their goodbyes.

“Thanks for having us,” Tim said, shaking Martin’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to have a quiet workplace again.”

“Right. Have a safe trip.” It was the easiest thing for Martin to say, his mind not yet caught up.

Tim backed away to join the others who simply waved or nodded their goodbyes. Something in Martin’s chest twisted

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve seen now that it’s a poor environment for multiple employees. The acoustics make it unbearable.” Peter smiled something empty. “Tell Elias I will be unavailable for communication for the next few weeks, at the least.”

Jon opened the door to his rental car and said, voice dripping with acid, “I’m sure we’ll speak with him very soon.”

“Perfect. Well, you’d best be going. Wouldn’t want to keep your workplace understaffed any longer.” With that, Peter glanced at Martin and jerked his chin to the front entrance before walking inside.

As Peter disappeared from sight, Sasha’s calm face twisted into furious determination. She nodded at Martin again, then stepped into the driver’s side of the rental and closed the door behind her. Tim sighed, holding up his phone and mouthing “later” before entering the passenger’s side.

Jon gave Martin a familiar look before slipping into his own car. Both vehicles left the lot, vanishing into the fog.

“What did I tell you? Academics,” Peter said, picking some lint off his sleeve. “Now, before I go, there are just a few things.”

It took all of Martin’s will not to drag his feet on the way to his desk. The folded table was gone, but dirty footprints littered his newly-mopped floor from where it had been. He focused on the different shoe sizes and shapes in the mud and slush.

"They certainly made a mess of the place, didn't they? You'll have to redo this floor, of course. The upstairs can wait until next week. Just keep to the usual schedule there."

His desk was still littered with papers he’d pushed aside before his nap the day before.

"You've fallen behind on paperwork as well. Understandable with all the blustering from those three, I really can’t imagine. Ah, well, it's nothing a few extra hours on the weekend won't take care of."

Martin dropped in the chair he’d sat in for months, overlooked by that crest and its ridiculous seal, eyes dead and glassy.

"Oh, and I’ve made some changes to your workload. It's all written down here.” Peter placed a piece of paper on the desk. “Pretty straightforward. I don't imagine that any of it will be a problem for you."

With a dull nod, Martin dragged the page toward himself without looking at it. An updated part of his work contract. More things for him to accomplish that weekend most likely, as if it was all a punishment.

Peter breathed in sharply through his nose and clapped his hands together, looking much more refreshed. “I did miss the sound of this place. I have other business, of course, so I’ll leave you to it, hm?”

Not waiting for a response, Peter strode away and out of the building with a decisive click of the door. Martin was left to himself in that wide, empty space, spending five, ten, fifteen minutes just staring at nothing.

Stupid. If their boss had meant for them to stay longer, they wouldn’t have gone through more extensive measures the day before. They should’ve known better than to make plans that were never going to happen.

Or he had just been so clearly desperate for help that they played it cool until it was time to get out.

No, that wasn’t fair (though he wasn’t ruling it out entirely). Tim’s invitation the night before would’ve just been cruel if that were the case, and Tim didn’t seem like the type to pull something so mean. And none of them seemed happy about Elias’ decision, especially with all of the work they’d put in. Sasha certainly wasn’t close to dropping anything.

And Jon had made a promise, even if he had a hard time keeping them.

Eventually, Martin looked down at the page in front of him.

Up and around he ran, panic and dizziness squeezing at his skull and threatening to pull him backward off his feet.

Stumbling into the upmost level of the lighthouse, Martin whispered through haggard breaths, “No, no, no, no-”

He hurried across the room, placing a hand on the dial and giving it a twist. “Evan? Evan, can you hear me?”

He waited for familiar voices with no success. Again, “Evan? It’s me, Martin. Peter left already, so just say something.”

A perfectly ordinary silence washed over him. He sank to the floor, his hand still brushing against the dial as if it made a difference. From his other hand fell a brand new set of panel instructions. An extra note was left at the bottom, something about the importance of proper lighthouse management to landbound ships.

Through the windows morning continued to break over the ocean, familiar cliffs just visible through the fog down below.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Bentley to the Rescue (Rated T)

When Crowley flubs an opportunity to tell Aziraphale how he feels, his car takes over. But it also doesn’t know how to quit when it’s ahead … (2357 words)

Notes: Features Queen’s ‘You Take My Breath Away’ and at the very end, NIN ‘Closer’.

Lunch had been lovely.

Positively lovely.

Aziraphale in particular had been overjoyed with the meal he ate, the champagne they drank, the company he kept.

All very lovely.

And afterwards, he and Crowley walked and talked and laughed and reminisced, pushing away the recent unpleasantness by recounting better times, similar lunch dates, favorite symphonic performances, anything that sprang to mind. They also contemplated hopes for the future – movies Crowley looked forward to seeing, books Aziraphale looked forward to reading, the latest rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream coming to Piccadilly that they planned on attending together. They discussed each topic with the fervor of people who thought they may not live to see tomorrow.

And the economy of those who still may not.

But by the time they pull up in front of Aziraphale’s shop, both angel and demon have gone silent. It’s not the comfortable silence they’ve cultivated over centuries of familiarity with one another. It’s a tense silence, a pregnant silence. A silence that begs the question:

“So … what now?”

Aziraphale asks it, looking to Crowley with wide, blue eyes searching not just for this answer, but for all the answers.

And that weighs heavy on the demon’s shoulders.

Considering the events of the past few days - the past eleven years! - Crowley can honestly say he didn’t think they’d get this far. Every minute that went by, he expected things to end, even if just for them.

Just for him.

But here they are, together in Crowley’s car, looking forward to tomorrow. The world hasn’t burnt up. They haven’t been executed. They’re not even in custody.

They’re free.

For now.

So yes – what do they do?

Crowley chuckles lightly. “I really don’t know,” he admits.

“Seems strange, doesn’t it?” Aziraphale glances out the windshield at life continuing on in Soho, humans who have no clue how close they came to becoming a massive meat stew going about with their day to day – meeting for dinner, hugging on the sidewalk, driving their cars, peeking into his own shop window, shrugging and moving on. “Knowing we don’t have to answer to anyone but ourselves?”

Ourselves. That brings things back to the question at hand – a question that should be easy to answer seeing as everything that’s happened between them, the catalyst to why Crowley could stop time long enough for Adam to defeat Satan and save the world, hinged on Aziraphale finally acknowledging that single thing.

They were own their own side.

The two of them – together.

But now that they’re in no danger of discorporation … or elimination … Crowley doesn’t know how that fits in the context of their future.

“I suspect we go on, yes? Keep doing what we’ve been doing. With a little less supervision, of course.”

“And that is …?”

Aziraphale is fishing. Crowley knows that. He also doesn’t know what he’s within his power to offer. What Aziraphale wants. Aziraphale has already burned him once, so to speak.

What if Crowley isn’t what he wants? Not the way Crowley wants Aziraphale?

There’s an easy way to find out, of course.

Why is he too much of a flippin’ coward to ask?

“You’ll run your bookshop,” Crowley explains. “I’ll take care of my business. I’ll stop by from time to time or you can come visit. It’ll be good. Normal, even. When’s the last time we’ve had normal then, eh?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says. “Normal. Sounds … sounds grand … actually.”

It didn’t sound grand. But the fact that Aziraphale’s tone has gone solemn doesn’t seem to tip Crowley off.

But it tips someone off. Someone who’s been watching these two fools play this game of romantic Pong since the entirety of their employ. Someone who’s been waiting for a moment much like this, who has witnessed several with high hopes to have them unravel at the last moment.

Someone who is equally tipped as ticked.

“So, I’ll see you around then?” Crowley asks.

Aziraphale nods. “I … I suppose so.” But when Aziraphale should be opening the door and sliding out, he turns to Crowley instead.

“Crowley? There’s something I need to tell you. Something … important.”

Crowley shifts in his seat to face Aziraphale. “Okay?”

“I … well, I …”

Crowley takes off his glasses and tosses them in the back seat. “Yes?”

“The truth is …” Aziraphale glances about nervously – not afraid someone will see Crowley’s eyes. No one could notice them from here. But afraid Crowley will see everything Aziraphale is about to say in his.

Afraid he’ll laugh at him. Reject him before the words come out.

“You see, I …”

“You what, Aziraphale? Spit it out.”

Crowley doesn’t sound impatient. He sounds anxious, assuming that what Aziraphale has on his mind is bad news. He did say it was important, after all. So Aziraphale can’t backpedal. He has to get this out, no matter the outcome.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. He doesn’t particularly need it, but he takes it anyway. If there’s anything in the air that can give him a boost of courage, he hopes it comes to him. Shoot! He should have invited Crowley inside for drinks! Courage in an amber bottle would be quite welcome right now. There’s a bottle of wine in the back seat. They bought it at The Ritz. He could grab it, open it, and chug it down. Then he wouldn’t struggle to get the words out. They’d be falling over themselves to trip off his tongue and stumble drunkenly to Crowley’s ears!

But no. With supernatural beings, as with humans, drunken confessions of love are tactless and not at all binding in court of law.

“I love you,” he says, doing his best to look in Crowley’s blank eyes when he does, the heat rising to his cheeks fighting to bring his gaze down.

“You’re an angel,” Crowley points out after a brief silence. “You love everybody. It’s in the job description.”

“I’m in love with you,” Aziraphale clarifies. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time. And before I leave this car and risk you going off to tend to business and not returning for a decade, or napping for who knows how long, I need you to know that.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s eyes pop with surprise while his brain whirls to come up with an appropriate response. There is one. It’s there on the tip of his tongue. It’s been waiting there for centuries to make its grand entrance. But since Crowley is a more eloquent demon in his head than he is in practice, his grand confession of love never sees the light of day. What he says instead is: “Okay. Thanks.”

Aziraphale nods. “Well. So long as you know … I guess.” He reaches for the door handle and pushes, but upsettingly, the door doesn’t open. He wiggles it, gives the door a shove. This time, not only does it not open, it resists.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asks.

“The door …” Aziraphale wiggles the handle more vigorously, shoves a bit more violently. “It won’t open.”

“That one sticks sometimes. You may want to miracle out.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale snaps his fingers, but nothing happens. He snaps again, then again, looking to Crowley with concern. “I can’t.”

“Did Heaven take away your powers?”

“I don’t think so.” Aziraphale looks out the window in the direction of his shop. He waits for an inconspicuous moment, then snaps his fingers. The front doors fly open, to the delight of a few stragglers peeking in the windows, but slam shut before they can make it inside. “No. Still have them. How about you?”

“Let me check.” Crowley snaps his fingers. A man on the corner ahead of them, talking up a young lady who looks uncomfortable by his presence, loses his trousers. They rip off his body, tumble a short distance away, then burst into flames, attracting the attention of an officer nearby and giving the lady a chance to escape. “Nope. Still got mine. Wait a minute …” He tries to open his door. He puts all his weight against it and shoves, but it doesn’t budge. He snaps his fingers over and over, but the door doesn’t open. The radio clicks on. Aziraphale assumes Crowley did it, to test his powers, but the demon’s face twists and he smacks a hand to his forehead. “Shit!”

A slow, romantic melody begins to play:

Ooh Ooh, take it, take it all away

“What’s the matter?” Aziraphale asks.

“It’s the car!” Crowley growls. He switches the radio off, but it comes back on.

Ooh Ooh, take my breath away

He keeps turning it off, but it keeps coming on again, playing a song that Crowley obviously doesn’t want to listen to.

“How can the car …?”

“It’s a demon owned car, isn’t it? It’s only natural that it picked up a few things along the way.”

Ooh Ooh, you-ou-ou-ou take my breath away

Crowley switches the radio off for the umpteenth time and puts both hands over the dial, but that doesn’t stop it from coming on. In desperation, he plants his hands over the speakers to dull the volume, but even Aziraphale knows that won’t work. Eventually, Crowley slumps in his seat, puts his hands over his face, and surrenders.

Look into my eyes and you’ll see I’m the only one You’ve captured my love, stolen my heart, changed my life Every time you make a move, you destroy my mind And the way you touch, I lose control and shiver deep inside

Sympathetic to Crowley’s dilemma, Aziraphale tries for himself to switch the radio off, but it doesn’t stay off. “Why is your car playing this song?”

“How the Devil should I know?” Crowley lies. “It’s a Queen song. It likes to play Queen songs. Every car does.”

You can reduce me to tears with a single sigh Every breath that you take, any sound that you make Is a whisper in my ear I could give up all my life for just one kiss I would surely die if you dismiss me from your love

Aziraphale starts focusing on the lyrics halfway through the second verse, his eyes fixed on the radio’s face to avoid looking at Crowley’s. But he can’t help himself. He peeks over, curious about Crowley’s reaction, which he can’t really see with Crowley’s hands covering his face. That aside, Crowley’s Bentley is his pride and joy. He loves it more than anything. It’s an extension of him, in a way.

So if the Bentley is playing this song and needs it to be heard, it’s more than simply the shenanigans of a demonic car.

And this is more than a pretty song.

So please don’t go Don’t leave me here all by myself I get ever so lonely from time to time I will find you anywhere you go I’ll be right behind you Right until the ends of the earth I’ll get no sleep till I find you And tell you that you just …

There’s something so poignant about the lyrics. So fitting. He might have chosen this song himself to express his feelings if he knew it existed, if he did that sort of thing. Aziraphale can’t discount the fact that Crowley asked him to run away with him, how passionately he’d argued that they were friends, had been friends for over 6000 years. How ever Aziraphale saw their relationship, in whatever terms he used, they were at least friends. That should be of some comfort.

And it is.

Some.

I will find you anywhere you go Right until the ends of the earth I’ll get no sleep till I find you To tell you when I’ve found you …

The radio clicks off. The music disappears. And behind his hands, Crowley snickers. They slide down his face and he glares at the dashboard. “Well? Drop the other shoe, will you?” He stares at the radio and waits. When nothing happens, he scoffs. “No. You expect me to say it then, hmm? Cheeky bastard.”

“Say what? What … what is it leaving out?” Aziraphale looks at Crowley, then at the radio, as if the car might outright say.

Crowley rolls his head Aziraphale’s way, gazing at him sadly, fondly. “I love you.”

Aziraphale’s brows lift. “Is that the end of the verse?”

“Yes.”

“But … do you?”

“Yes.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Since … since when?” Aziraphale asks, scooting excitedly closer. “Oh … you don’t need to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Crowley smiles. “Since you uttered the magical words I gave it away.”

“Really?”

“Yes, angel. Really.”

“Wow. That’s, uh … that’s a long time.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Aziraphale finds himself at a loss as to how to proceed. This seems like a classic lean in for a kiss moment, but there’s too much tension hanging in the air. An impromptu kiss may or may not relieve that. He’s never kissed Crowley before. He doesn’t want it tainted by mixed signals and bad timing. He’s willing to let Crowley take the lead on that one. Who knows? Kissing may not even be something he enjoys. So instead, Aziraphale turns to the car’s dash and asks in a teasing tone, “Is that all you wanted to say, Bentley?”

The car stays silent, but for only a second. The dial on the radio turns left and right, tuning into different stations, pausing at one, and then moving on. It stops at last on a song Aziraphale has never heard before, but which Crowley seems to know after a single beat since he launches for the dial, wrestling harder this time to try and change the station before the lyrics start.

“No, no, no! That’s enough now! You’ve had your say!” Crowley argues. But the Bentley doesn’t feel the same. The dial pops off and the song remains, it’s steady, provocative beat thumping hard, shaking the seats, and all Crowley can do is drop his head back, put his hands back over his face, groan loudly, and suffer.

I wanna fuck you like an animal …

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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