#also a fumes note i meant to add above: this is why he is the way he is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mearcatsreturns · 3 years

Note

15 for Abby/Luka

For reasons ;)

Under a cut because it's long.

July 2003

To: Luka Kovac <“[email protected]”>

From: Abby Lockhart <“[email protected]”>

Subject: I’m drowning and praying ghosts are real

Dear Luka,

Something about knowing that I’ll never talk to you again is just unbearable. I’ll never laugh at your malapropisms, look into your beautiful eyes, feel your strong hands holding mine, or make love to you again. There won’t be any more jokes about jam and cheese on toast, or you teasing me for my weak but constant supply of coffee. I’ll never hear your amazing, deranged laughter after you prank someone again. No more of your hugs—which are somehow the best hugs in the world. Because you’re gone.

It’s been three days since we got the call telling us you died thousands of miles from home, whether that’s here in Chicago or in Croatia. I didn’t know your dad’s name, Luka. We needed to call him, and I didn’t know. How did I not know? And now I can’t. I mean, L’Alliance told us his name, but the fact that I’ll never learn pieces of your history, of the wonderful man you are, FROM you...how am I supposed to go on and live my life?

For years, I’ve thought medicine was my great thwarted love. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I thought I was bitter about having to let go of that dream. Now I wonder. I let obstacles get in the way of pursuing medicine, and it’s made me...well, it’s part of why I was so unhappy. But that makes me think about how I also let obstacles get in the way of us. I was happy with you, you know, until I let fear and my mother and Carter get in the way. God, I wish I could do that over again. We could have had everything, and if I hadn’t gotten in my own way, I’d be happy. I think maybe I could have made you happy, too.

It’s funny. I knew things with Carter weren’t working, and he implied you were part of it. I said it wasn’t, but then five minutes later, I found out you were—are—dead. And I realized you were the reason, or one of the big ones. As soon as Chuny told me, I knew I loved you and had loved you for years. Yeah. Great timing, isn’t it? I keep thinking that maybe I could have kept you from going if I had known or if I had told you. I didn’t want you to go when I thought you were my very attractive friend and ex that I still was fond of. Knowing that I love you—how do I move past that? Knowing that I lost you, first to my stupidity and then to death?

I just...I miss you, and I don’t when I’ll stop, or how to. Susan caught me crying on my last shift, and I didn’t even know what to say. I feel like I’ve been crying or standing still, brittle and stuck in time, since I heard the news. I can’t, Luka. I know I have to keep on moving, and I thought maybe writing you would help. I know you’ll never see this, never have a chance to respond. But the idea that some fragments of your soul linger and can maybe sense...I don’t know. That I’m writing? What I’m feeling? Jesus, this is crazy.

All my love,

Abby

Abby angrily swipes the tears from her eyes. God, what’s the point of writing this? He’ll never see hsi email or her again. Just...without Luka, how can the world be anything but grim and sad and pointless?

She laughs mirthlessly. Maybe it doesn’t matter. No, she knows it doesn’t. Because Abby knows the futility of it, aches with the meaninglessness, she presses send without another thought.

&&&

Three days after that, a miracle occurs. Luka, the Lazarus of this new millennium, comes back from the dead. He’s never been dead, and maybe, Abby thinks, there’s a God above after all. So many people wish for this exact boon, and she—they, the world—gets it. Some higher power believes this planet is a better place with Luka Kovac in it, and Abby is ecstatic.

Until she remembers the email and that they can’t be unsent.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Luka is coming back, apparently with a French nurse. Maybe he’ll just delete it without reading it. Maybe it didn’t go through—how does email work for the dead, and how quickly is all that processed?

Abby shakes her head. It doesn’t matter; Luka is alive and returning to them. She can handle a little awkwardness in the face of the sheer joy of knowing the world is a brighter, kinder place. He’s coming back, and that’s what’s important.

&&&

August 2003

It takes Luka almost a week after returning to Chicago to convince Kerry and the other staff to let him go back to his apartment. Even so, they only agree when Gillian assures them she’ll see to his every need.

Abby winces when she hears that, and it makes something flutter in Luka’s chest. Which probably isn’t good for his malaria, but the hope...that is.

It’s another two days of lying in bed before he has the energy to ask Gillian to bring him his laptop. At this point, it’s been months since he’s checked his email, and Luka grimaces at the undoubtedly horrible state of his inbox. He briefly considers never checking again and just getting a new one, but he knows his father struggled to add him to his contacts once already. To expect it of him again would be absurd.

With a sigh, Luka opens his email. It’s just as bad as he feared. He snorts at the myriad messages about Viagra, Nigerian princes, and Russian brides, deleting them without thought. He saves a couple from his dad. He slowly whittles down his inbox, but he freezes when he gets to one email in particular, sent about a month ago.

It’s from Abby, during the time everyone thought he was dead.

Luka considers calling and asking her if someone hacked her email or is sending spam from her account, but the subject line...it looks real. And Abby’s been odd around him lately, seeming both deliriously happy to see him and awkwardly nervous.

His heart pounds, and he clicks to open it. If this is a spammer, they’re probably about to get whatever they want.

&&&

Abby pours herself another coffee, internally swearing as she prepares for the last two hours of her shift. Deciding to go back to school is great; having to coordinate all the details is less thrilling and leaves her tired and cranky.

Frank ducks his head into the lounge, beady eyes narrowing on her. “Hey, Abby. The Croat is on the phone for you. Line 2. Try to get back out there as fast as you can, Weaver’s yelling at the med students about IVs.”

“Okay, Frank,” Abby says, though she flushes and her palms start to sweat. It’s fine. She can always hide the panic and butterflies in her stomach with sarcasm. It has yet to fail her.

Frank gives her one last suspicious look, then nods and heads back to Admit.

Abby takes a deep breath, then picks up the phone. “Hey, Luka?”

“It’s me. Glad I could reach you. How are you?” He sounds...ugh. So good. And eager and happy, and her heart could leap right out of her chest.

“Doing all right. I just have a couple hours left on this shift, and it hasn’t been too awful today. Only one MVA. How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovering. Listen, did you want to come over for dinner?”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.”

“What? I’m a good cook, even if you don’t appreciate wonderful, traditional Croatian dishes,” he says with a chuckle.

“Luka, you just got out of the hospital five days ago. You still need to be resting.”

“Abby, don’t worry so much. I was just kidding. I have some sandwiches from Manny’s, and Anna sent me home with lots of matzo ball soup too.”

Abby bites her lip. Of course she wants to go. But the prospect of spending the evening with Gillian cooing over Luka, knowing that she shares a bed with him, is decidedly less appealing. And there’s the email she sent, which Luka hasn’t acknowledged. He might well have deleted it, or he’s giving her a gracious out.

Her conscience twinges as soon as she thinks about bailing, though. Didn’t she promise herself she wouldn’t take life for granted anymore? She’ll go back to med school, she’ll have dinner with Luka when he asks.

“Abby?”

She starts, realizing she needs to respond. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I can do that. I can be there an hour after my shift, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” He has no idea how much, even if she wishes she knew for sure that he’d deleted the email.

&&&

Abby rings Luka’s doorbell three and a half hours later. She’d meant to come straight from work, but after a patient vomited on her, she decided to head home, shower, and splurge on a taxi to Luka’s. The poor man is recovering from being deathly ill and doesn’t need County’s fumes making things worse.

There’s the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Luka answers the door, grinning happily at her. “Good, you made it! Come on in!”

“I did. Sorry it took me longer than expected.” Abby steps into his apartment, looking around. It’s been such a long time since she’s been here, and she notes the subtle changes in the art and decor.

“No worries. I know how it goes.” He places a hand at the small of her back, guiding her inside.

Abby stiffens for a second at how his touch burns even through the layers of her shirt and light jacket, but she relaxes, enjoying the feel while she waits for Gillian to appear and end the fleeting joy.

Luka is unfazed. “Now, of course we can just eat the sandwiches, but if you want to heat up the matzo ball soup, you can. Since you don’t want me standing,” he says with a wink.

Abby smiles back, shaking her head. “Oh, I see how it is. Make the woman who worked all day do more household work when she gets ho—wait, where’s Gillian? Isn’t she supposed to be taking care of you?”

“She’s not here,” he says simply.

Going to the fridge and taking out the containers of soup, Abby places them in the microwave. Is Gillian out for the evening, or is she gone gone? “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or her here with you, whatever.”

Luka is quiet for a long minute, and Abby wonders if he intends to answer. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I asked her to leave.”

Abby’s pulse speeds up. “What? Why?”

Luka takes a deep breath, clearly ready to respond, and—

The microwave dings, and they both jump. Exchanging a sheepish look, they laugh.

“Look, let’s get some food, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Abby dishes up their soup and sandwiches, preparing trays so they can sit on the couch. Luka turns on the television, and Abby’s heart rate comes back under control. They sit together in companionable silence while they eat and watch Thom and Jai and the rest of the Fab 5 whip some hapless lawyer’s life into order. When they finish their meal, Abby cleans up, taking the trays back to the kitchen.

She heads back to the couch at the opposite end from Luka, not daring to get closer when she really has no idea what’s going on.

Luka clears his throat and mutes the TV. “So, yeah. I asked Gillian to leave.”

“Oh. So, um, did you break up?”

“She was never my girlfriend, really. She has a boyfriend back in Montreal, they just…” Luka shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

Abby is more lost than ever. “Ah.”

Taking a deep breath, Luka continues, finally looking over at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she helped me get here and took care of me, but we were never serious.”

Something starts to tug at Abby’s heart, squeezing and twisting and kicking to get free. Is it...hope? “Well, I’m glad she got you here safe, but you should have someone staying with you while you recover, Luka. Malaria is dangerous.”

He gives her a look. “I know how dangerous malaria is. I’m getting better. And besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask her to stay when things are over because I’m in love with someone else.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Someone else?” she squeaks.

Luka nods, swallowing. “Yeah. And I have a reason to think she might be in love with me too.” He slides over to her side of the couch, reaching for her hand.

Abby meets his eyes—those beautiful green eyes that are the best color in the world—and squeezes his hand, incapable of words. Does he mean…?

With his other hand, Luka reaches up and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the subtle arch of her cheekbone. “Abby, if you’ve changed your mind since you sent that email, please tell me to shut up.”

That stupid, ridiculous email might be the best thing she’s ever done in her life. She leans into his hand, licking her lips as she shakes her head slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t mean for you to see it and hoped I could learn how to hack computers and delete it but—”

Luka cuts her off. “I would never forgive you if you managed to delete it. You wouldn’t believe how much faster I healed after that.”

Abby leans forward, sliding into Luka’s waiting arms. “Then maybe I’ll write you some more emails.”

“Emails aren’t what I want right now,” Luka says.

Funny, Abby doesn’t either. Then his lips brush hers, and all her worries and fears fade away. She knows she has to tell him about med school and he needs to finish recuperating, but when Luka deepens their kiss and pulls her closer, Abby ceases to think at all.

She has Luka back, and now they have each other again.

#er #nbc er #er ff #luby #luby ff #abby lockhart #luka kovac #<3 #my fanfic

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Spilled Drinks & Study Sessions༄ mark l.

↳ When you’re forced into a study session with your next door neighbour Mark, who also happens to be your academic rival in school, things go south very quickly.

pairing; mark lee x reader

genre; fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers (more like friends, but anyway)

wordcount; 2503 words

author’s note; how the hell do you guys write e2l and make the transition so smooth? bro i could never. also, the header pic is different than what i normally do :/ it’s kinda eh, but i liked the picture so i had to do something with all that empty space

Request 26: Mark + “Oh, are you ticklish?” (73) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧. | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬.

The animosity between you and Mark is intense and painstakingly obvious to everyone around you. Well, everyone besides your parents, you suppose.

“Can you stop being so loud? You’re distracting me,” you grumble, angrily flipping through your homework.

“Well, I’m sorry for breathing.” Mark rolls his eyes at you. “Would you rather I stop entirely instead and drop dead right here, right now?”

“At least it would be quieter if you did.” You press your pen down harder, taking your rage out on your poor, innocent worksheet. If you’re going to blame anyone for the excruciating torture your homework is enduring, you’d blame Mark. Even if it technically isn’t his fault, you’d still pin the blame on him.

“What’re you gonna do with my body? You wouldn’t be able to lift me, I mean, you couldn’t even open that can of Coke.”

Your cheeks grow warm, mentally replaying the image of a grinning Mark as he effortlessly opened your can of Coke, the soft hiss of its fizz taunting you. Mark had puffed up his chest triumphantly like he was some kind of hero. For crying out loud, he had only opened a can of Coke, not saved his country. It still bruised your pride though, having to ask for help from Mark, your sworn rival since middle school. Childish, you know, but you’re certain that Mark thinks of you as such too.

“Whatever,” you fumble for a name to call him, “nerd.” Mark snickers at you. “My fingers were just slippery.” He arches a brow, challenging you, and you scowl. “I wouldn’t be able to lift you because you’re heavy, fatass. Not because I’m weak.” You twirl a lock of your hair around your finger. “And look who’s talking, Mr. I-Can’t-Open-Doors.”

Mark flushes crimson as he silently fumes. “That was because I was pushing the pull door!”

“That’s even worse, Mark,” you tease, unable to suppress a smile. “Dumbass,” you mumble below your breath, enjoying the way Mark seethes.

“You’re calling me a dumbass? If I remember correctly, I was the one who placed above you last term.” Mark haughtily flips a page in his workbook. “Which I think is why your parents want me to tutor you.”

You throw a measly eraser shaving at Mark in rebuttal. “You know that’s not why I’m here!” Another shaving is thrown at Mark’s head, yet he doesn’t even look up at you. “In fact, your parents probably wanted me here so I could babysit you!”

Neither you or Mark are right. Your parents just chucked you together because they thought that after all those years of living beside one another and having weekly dinners together, you two would be absolutely wonderful buddies, and you can’t fault them for assuming such a thing.

Logically speaking, you and Mark are supposed to be the bestest of friends. As much as you dislike the word, it seems as if fate has decided that you two are meant for each other. Gross.

In almost every situation possible, you and dear Markie boy over here have been unwillingly strung together—from group projects, to assigned seats, you two just can’t get a break from one another.

Your parents had innocently thought that having a little study session while they went out for a double date with Mark’s parents would be beneficial for you two. Perhaps even fun. Fun, your ass.

All those years spent with Mark hasn’t made you friends, no, it’s made you rivals.

Yeah, so not sworn enemies, but what’s life without a little exaggeration?

You’ve always been a bright kid, some would even go as far to say that you’re ‘gifted’, but you think ‘persevering’ is a better word to describe it. You weren’t just born naturally intelligent or outstandingly athletic, no, you’ve had to work hard, insanely hard, for that. It hadn’t been handed to you all nicely wrapped with a little bow to match, just for you to tear it open and take. You’ve had to tolerate and undergo several sleepless nights, and many agonising hours of training.

Up until middle school you were top of your class in all aspects. You were idolised (well, as idolised as you could be for a middle schooler anyway), loved and acknowledged. It had been blissful.

That was until, little Mark with that stupidly cute gleam in his eyes came along, skipping over to you in those worn-out track pants and smiling toothily as he introduced himself as your brand new next door neighbour.

You have to admit, initially, you and him were close friends. You’d walk home together, sneak out to go to the convenience store together, share snacks together, the list goes on. You’d even given Mark your very first kiss, right on the cusp on your twelfth birthday. He didn’t know that it was your first kiss though, and he’ll never know. You’d rather be shot at point blank range than give up such private intel.

But when one day, in seventh grade, when Mark had begun closing in on you in rankings, outrunning you at the park and gradually being everyone’s new favourite, you found yourself isolated. Even one of your friends, a girl with straight long hair that fell past her waist, started hanging out with Mark more than with you.

And when you invited her to your thirteenth birthday, the first thing she’d asked was, “Is Mark going to be there?”

And at that same party, you saw her, kissing the boy you had been crushing on for the past year. And it looked like Mark really enjoyed kissing her too. More than he did with you.

From that point on, you began to distance yourself from Mark. It was gradual, slow, but you knew Mark could tell. When he finally surpassed you academically too, you started harbouring a resentment towards him, and the rivalry between you two started.

You were somewhat hoping he’d confront you, at least wonder why your attitude towards him had seemed to change in the blink of an eye, but he hadn’t. And that stung.

Obviously rumours had circulated in middle school about what was going on between you two. Kids, no, people love to talk. And talk they did.

It had been widely known that you and Mark used to be inseparable at one point in time, and it was jarring seeing how differently you two were acting around each other.

Mark and that friend of yours had broken up some time after that, and evidently she was pissed. It seemed as if she had begun spreading gossip about you, claiming that you had been some sort of psycho ex-girlfriend and that you had threatened Mark to break up with her, essentially, she was villainising you.

When high school finally rolled around, Mark’s ex had moved by then—you weren’t sure where and you didn’t care to know. The rumours eventually died down with her absence, and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you and Mark could finally make amends, bury the hatchet, as one would say. But that never happened.

Looking back, you’re a bit amused at what an eventful and dramatic childhood you had. All those scandals at just thirteen? What a boss bitch. Present you would not be able to stomach that.

You take a peek at Mark. He’s attractive. Of course he is. He had been a cute kid, no doubt, but as he’s aged, he’s matured into his good looking features. He’s not the rugged and manly kind of good looking, he’s got more of a sweet boyish look to him, and in your opinion, it adds to his charm.

“What are you staring at?”

Shit, you’ve been caught. No, caught? It’s not like you were doing something you shouldn’t have. “Nothing.” You reach forward to take a sip from the infamous Coke can. It’s lukewarm, but you gulp it down regardless, trying to appear unfazed.

“Were you checking me out?”

Disaster strikes just as those words leave Mark’s lips. The putrid sensation of warm coke leaves your mouth entirely, not because you’ve begrudgingly swallowed it all, but because you’ve spit it out from the sheer shock of Mark’s question.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Mark stands from his chair across from you and its legs scrape against the floor with a sound that makes your skin crawl.

You cough and sputter, gasping for air. Once you’ve gotten past that tight feeling in your throat, you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. A few droplets of the sugary drink dribble onto your shirt. But fortunately, well for you at least, you’re not as drenched in spit-laced Coke as Mark is.

“Shit!” You lift your gaze to look at Mark, who’s surprised, to say the least.

Mark takes a breath to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he clamps his mouth shut, opting to groan in annoyance instead. “Jesus, why’d you even do that?”

Your face burns in embarrassment. No way you’re going to admit to him that you were checking him out. Sort of. “I don’t know, it just went down the wrong channel, I guess.”

Mark’s lips form a thin line of dissatisfaction. “Yeah, okay, whatever.” He cringes as his shirt sticks to him. “ I’m gonna go change.”

He runs a hand through his hair, face upturned in frustration as he stomps up the stairs, his footsteps echoing throughout the living room. Your eyes follow his figure until he turns a left into his room.

You sigh. If you were home alone, you would have screamed in humiliation. The can of Coke on the table mocks you. You resist the urge to pick it up and hurl it into Mark’s neighbour’s backyard—well, your backyard.

A sliver of positivity presents itself in the form of you and Mark’s mostly unscathed worksheets. There are a few stray droplets here and there, but it’s barely noticeable. It would’ve been much worse for both Mark and you if you had drenched those as well. In fact, your homework wouldn’t be drenched in just saliva and Coke, but also in tears at that point.

You curse the can in your grasp, its aluminium smooth against your skin, before you dump it in the bin. Good riddance, bitch.

I should apologise. You can suck up your pride for that. No, this isn’t even about petty things like pride anymore. That shouldn’t matter. I should apologise, you think to yourself firmly.

Alright. Apologising. Sorry. You inhale deeply, gathering your senses and calming your jittery nerves. Why are you even nervous? It’s not like you’re professing your undying love to him. Chill the fuck out.

As you’re standing before Mark’s single, wooden door (which looks extremely daunting for some reason), it doesn’t dawn on you that perhaps you should knock first.

If it had, then perhaps you wouldn’t be staring at a shirtless Mark, your hand still wrapped around his doorknob and your mouth hung agape.

“Oh my God, Mark!” You cover your eyes, the door shutting behind you with a creak. You’re a bit ashamed at how fast your cheeks are overtaken by a hot, prickling feeling. “Why are you naked?”

Mark, though just as startled as you are, has the common sense to reach blindly for the stained shirt he just took off, holding it in front of him. “What do you mean why am I naked? Why are you here?”

You take a few steps back, your back pressed up against the door. “I- I came up here to say I’m sorry. You know, for uh, just now?”

Your hands slowly fall to your sides as you burn holes into Mark’s carpeted floor with your eyes instead.

“Oh, uh, o-okay. Apology accepted, I guess.” Mark’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Let me just uhm—”

You can hear his drawer sliding open and the faint rustle of fabric. All the while you keep your gaze glued to the floor, feeling your cheeks grow warmer by the second. Oh my God, you’re acting like a little girl who’s just held a boy’s hand for the first time.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen a guy naked—for fuck’s sake, Mark’s not even naked. He’s all covered up where he should be. Why is the sight of just his bare body from the waist up making your mind go blank and your palms grow sweaty? It’s not like you have feelings for him anymore. No, you don't.

“You can uh, you can look up now.”

You steel yourself, looking up to face Mark. Why did you have to steel yourself? It’s not like he’d have taken even more clothes off once you looked up again. You feel like slamming your head into the wall.

You fiddle with your fingers, searching for something to say to try and ease the tension. “Uh, sorry. For spilling that Coke all over you, I mean.” You scratch the nape of your neck. “And for you know, walking in on you changing.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your shoulders slump. “Huh?”

Mark chuckles confidently, like he’s unabashed. His cheeks are ablaze with colour, though. “I mean, why didn’t you just back out of the room when you walked in on me changing? Why’d you just stand there?”

You blink at him. Why didn’t you just leave? “I- I froze up, okay? Don’t bully me!” Your ears are burning.

“Yeah, okay, okay.” Mark raises his hands by his sides, that entertained smile never leaving his lips. “Let’s go back down, okay? I still need to finish my work.”

You chew on your inner cheek. “Yeah, whatever,” you try to find a creative name to call him.

“Yeah, I know. Nerd.” Mark raises his brows at you, still with that amused grin. You wish you could smack it right off his stupidly handsome face.

You huff, turning on your heel and practically booking it to the stairs. Mark catches up to you in no time with long, languid strides. Stupid long ass legs.

“Hey, wait up, loser,” he says, a hint of delight in his voice. He pokes your side and you jump, shoving his hand away and mustering a weak glare at him. “Oh, are you ticklish?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “No, I’m not, fatass!” Despite your harsh tone, your cheeks deceive you, blossoming with warmth yet again.

Mark smiles genuinely this time, although there’s no sarcastic edge to it whatsoever. “You getting shy?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hey, don’t be upset!” The next thing Mark says is nearly incomprehensible, but you hear it. Oh, you definitely do.

“You look cute.”

Your head swivels to look back at Mark, and you realise that he hadn’t meant for you to hear that.

The faintest of smiles teases your lips, before you turn away, denying him the satisfaction of seeing you break out into a grin. “Yeah, whatever, Mark.”

Now, it’s Mark’s turn to be enveloped in heat as a red tint spreads across his cheeks.

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thoughtsaboutshows · 3 years

Text

A Different WIP Wednesday: Behind Closed Doors

This isn’t exactly a WIP but it is a completed scene from an abandoned (for now) collection of Nabrina missing/extended scenes from the show. This one is from the end of Part 2!

The dress was uncomfortable. It was beautiful and while she didn’t mind a collar or a plunging neckline, the gold threaded dress she was currently wearing was itchy. And the fact that Lucifer had picked it out for her made her want to rip it off even more. She knew she couldn’t though, the literal world was depending on her to pull this off.

So she slipped on the gold shoes as well and played with the mask, contemplating waiting to put it on until she got there. They were all waiting for her downstairs and she knew Lucifer was waiting for her too at the Academy. She could picture his smug smile while sitting atop his throne of skulls, believing he’d won. But he hadn’t, not yet at least.

She’d attempted a Hail Malphus pass in trying to stop her Aunt’s wedding. She and Nick had worn another glamour and it had gotten them both expelled. But this was even more of a risk, more of a last ditch effort to keep Satan himself from destroying the Earth. From keeping herself from becoming the Queen at his side, and his child bride? Her stomach churned at the thought. His face had been dripping with victory when she’d tried to defeat him at the stone altar. Heaven, his bragging eyes had even been present when she showed up at Dorian’s and he revealed his master plan. He’d nearly jumped with glee when Nick appeared from behind the curtain, finding joy in the tears that were running down both their cheeks and enjoying that their relationship was in ruins. In Lucifer’s mind, it was one less tie his daughter had to the world she loved so much.

Nick hadn’t given up there though, showing up in her room hours later begging for forgiveness, for her to see his love for her had been true despite what the Dark Lord had tasked him to do.

Fix the Acheron and maybe I won’t hate you for the rest of my life.

That’s what she had said to him. But it couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Hate him? She couldn’t. That’s why his betrayal had hurt so much. It had cut a deep gash in her heart that he had mended after her breakup with Harvey. It had made her question everything since he’d sat with her at lunch, which Nick claimed he’d done out of his own volition and sheer awestruck reaction to seeing her for the first time. She wanted to believe that, and she guessed a part of her did or she wouldn’t have let him help. Her trust in him was shaky at best. She was unwilling to allow him to be the one to help her zip up that uncomfortable dress or clasp her shoes. But she could trust that he was smart, and a damn good warlock. So she handed over the Acheron and sent him away to work on it.

He’d taken it in stride, accepted it as the tiniest of olive branches. If he couldn’t hold her hand at least he could work on something to hold the Dark Lord. He found a quiet room in the Mortuary and went to work immediately, putting all he had into it. His heart had plummeted into his stomach, making him nearly lose his lunch when the Dark Lord told Sabrina of his plans. It was nothing he’d expected, and thought his devotion had to do with guiding a wayward witch to sign the book of the beast. Now he knew he played a role in the end of the world. He didn’t care much about that, meaning what he said to Sabrina in her kitchen. He only cared about her and it was Lucifer’s statements about her ruling by his side that had Nick fuming the most. That’s what had kept him working furiously on the Acheron, hands shaking and mind racing as he said all of his spells.

As the time drew nearer, and really it wasn’t enough time but it had to do, they all met in the Mortuary foyer before walking over to the Academy. Sabrina was in her gold dress and everyone else wore their demon glamours; it would be quite the show. Nick kept his distance from her, his entire focus trained on the Acheron still in his hands as he continued to mutter spells despite the fact that they were nearly leaving. She took note of how he looked at it, eyes almost begging for it to work. His entire face was furrowed in concentration, but it wasn’t the cute kind she’d admired when he’d perch on her bed studying or they’d research in the Sanctum. Back then she could swoop in and kiss his lips or his jaw and it’d draw a chuckle from him and he’d be willing to take a break. This concentration was desperate, and Sabrina knew without a doubt that desperation was for her.

She also knew that she could try and kiss him all she wanted, and he’d still be working on that damn Acheron. Because that is what would save them all.

Save her.

Still her feet that wore the uncomfortable heels couldn’t move in her uncomfortable dress to go to him. It seemed too big a task in that moment, like facing down Nick was scarier than facing down the Dark Lord.

Yet when they finally started the journey to the Academy, her mask in hand because she couldn’t bring herself to add another uncomfortable gold item to her outfit just yet. She found her gazes darting to him and her footfalls falling into step with his. Even when it seemed they were miles apart, they were in sync. He caught her looking nearly every time, having stolen some looks of his own. He could sense she was a little scared, his fearless girl.

Except she wasn’t his anymore, he’d lost her. She didn’t lose him though, she never would. He’d tied himself to her long before Lucifer came calling. She didn’t believe that right now but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered to Nick was that she got through this, that she wasn’t forced into a role she didn’t want and that she survived. And if his tie to her tethered him to a sinking ship or disaster, he’d hold on tight because it’d be worth it. Because she’d be above the surface breathing another day.

Her heart tugged to walk by him, take the Acheron out of his shaking hand and so it could hold hers instead. But her head kept her in between her Aunts with her eyes forward, avoiding his dark eyes for the rest of the trip. She knew how easily she got lost in them.

Her eyes stayed ahead but her thoughts continued to drift to him. She kicked herself for using the time she should be preparing to dwell on her boyfriend, her ex-boyfriend? She wasn’t sure what they were anymore, but what she did know was that the story of them wouldn’t stop replaying in her mind. She begged and prayed anyone left out there that it wasn’t all a lie. She didn’t think it was even possible to fake the glint he’d had in his eye when he asked her to the Valentine’s Dance. Or how his smile emphasized the curl of his tongue against hers when he’d kissed her properly for the first time. Not that their stage kiss hadn’t felt real all on its own. She hoped that he’d meant it when he toasted to her future as a High Priestess of the Church of Night. And they hadn’t spoken of it, but what business would he have had lying to his familiar when he yelled out that he loved her, trying to get Amalia to spare Sabrina. The same broken pleading was in his voice when he kneeled in front of her and told her he really did fall in love with her.

And in return she spat in his face.

It seemed deserved at the time, and it might have been. But as her footsteps brought her closer to the Academy, she’d wished she’d have told him she loved him too, thrown the Dark Lord’s devotion right back in his face with a grab of Nick’s hand.

Because she was pretty sure she had fallen in love with him right back.

Nobody wasted any time when they climbed the steps to the Academy. Zelda led the charge in search of Lilith and next steps. Nick passed the Acheron to Ambrose as he walked by, shooting it one last inspecting look.

Nick and Sabrina somehow found themselves alone on the steps in the back of the line, and he stopped her from going in with two gentle fingers on her arm. If she was surprised she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked almost relieved he had done it.

“Sabrina.” Nick started. His voice sounded like gravel, rough and painful. He reached out and his fingertips grazed the gold fabric of her dress. She let him do it, which surprised both of them. “I know this is all messed up and I hate the reason we’re all here...but you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Nick.” She answered him, using his shortened name. It made him visibly calmer, though being alone with her right now still made him nervous. He couldn’t help commenting on her beauty. He should have told her more just how stunning he found her, more exquisite than anyone else he’d ever seen. So just in case, he’d told her now.

“I’m so sorry, Sabrina.” Nick apologized as he changed the subject. He couldn’t help apologizing one last time either. He hadn’t known what he was going to say when he stopped her, and the pressure of it all had obviously turned his brain to mush. In reality there was nothing to say, he just wanted to be by her one last time.

She squeezed her eyes shut to try to keep the tears at bay. She didn’t think they could really haven’t this conversation now, despite not wanting to go into this with things left unsaid. She took a deep breath when he struggled to find more words. She grabbed the hand that was playing with her dress and intertwined their fingers. His hands were warm and soft, just as she’d remembered.

“Nick…”. She said his name again and took a step closer. They were outside in the open but somehow it had felt like the air had been sucked away. The only life giving source left was each other and it seemed nothing could tear their eyes apart. She saw the worry in his, muddled with something else she could only describe as love. She figured hers looked the same and she cursed Lucifer all over again for playing with both of their hearts. She leaned in a little bit more, and he memorized the scent of her, just in case. As she breathed him in she thought she might have kissed him, might have folded herself in his arms, or at least told him she’d forgiven him.

But she didn’t do any of those things because Lilith slammed the door open and demanded Sabrina come with her. They couldn’t keep the Dark Lord waiting any longer.

With one more lingering and longing look Nick gave a supportive nod.

“We’ll talk after?” He asked with hope and lifted his and to gently graze her cheek. She leaned into it slightly and nodded quickly in response. With a deep breath he went inside the door and looked back at her once before disappearing down a hallway in search of the others.

Lilith rolled her eyes and dragged Sabrina inside, giving her one last recap as to the plan as Sabrina out on her mask. Sabrina had the plan down and was filled with a hopefully well placed confidence that this would all work. The sooner they started the ruse the sooner the dress could come off and her comfy PJ’s could go on. The sooner she could she have a real conversation with Nick. One without the end of the world looming or hiding behind curtains.

She couldn’t wait until she could.

Because she wasn’t pretty sure anymore.

She loved him.

And when this was all over, when the Dark Lord was trapped in the Acheron, she’d tell him.

But she’d be too late.

#nabrina #WIP Wednesday #kind of #fic: behind closed doors #nicholas scratch #sabrina spellman #chilliing adventures of sabrina #part 2

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yoursinfulurges · 4 years

Text

Toxin and Venom

Slight Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!Reader

Description:

In which a seemingly loving relationship appears greater than it is...

There was something rather terrible about this young man's naive exterior. Though nobody could pinpoint where exactly the dreadfulness laid. His eyes shined a little too brightly, and his words were coated in thick sugar, enough to appear disingenuous to the skillfully trained ears. But there hidden behind is smile concealed the sinister morals of a true manipulator.

Oh' but she was no better herself, twisting words to favour her narrative. Playing as if she was nothing more than a meek little prey.

Warnings: pure angst with an underlining layer of toxicity.

Disclaimer: This is a REWRITE of one of my old stories dated back to a year ago, so if it sounds familiar that is why. This story was originally written for Jung Jaehyun from NCT but seeing as though I've fallen out of love with kpop at the moment, I wanted to repurpose it for my new followers that I've harbored since The Venom Within, as I'm very proud of the way it was written and concluded that I wanted to share with you all. I did improve and change quite a lot so you won't be reading the exact same story and I decided to add a twist to it.

Note: This is more so a college au so the fact that Peter is Spiderman is insignificant...

Word Count: 4.k

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Your boyfriend, Peter, had always been the most kind and caring person you knew. Ever since you met him, and even after months of dating, he still acted like the bashful, kind Disney prince you took him for. Only treating you with nothing but respect and admiration; you often wondered if this boy was even capable of making an insult, or had a bad bone in his body. Fore he acts way too nice and sweet for his own good. Controlling at times but it was with all good intentions...

Originally, you thought the kind gestures and lovely sweet talking was his way of subtly flirting, but after years of dating him, you came to the realization that it was just simply him. Peter didn't need to pretend to be kind and sweet like other guys; given that it was like second nature for him. You loved the boy to death. He showered you with so much love, spoiled you with affection. Treated you like his queen; His shining jewel. Out of the two years that you'd been together, not once has he wronged you.

That is, up until this exact moment...

You stand there in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down your cheeks. At this point you had stopped listening to what he was saying. In fear that if you continued to listen to his harsh words, more of your love would begin to fleet away, and you couldn't afford to lose any more. Despite of all your excessive yelling, you loved Peter. And he meant so much to you. But seeing him in this state, angry and hostile, attacking you viciously with his words, you began to question your future with him.

You couldn't quite fathom what brought on this newfound aggression in your relationship. Though, you had a slight seeking suspicion that it was from all the post-exam stress you both had to endure. Weeks upon weeks of studying and sleepless nights finally took its toll on the both of you. Thus bringing you to this exact moment in time. The once loving home corrupted by the harsh spoken words that fell from both of your lips. Anger and aggression filling the room, space welcoming the negativity with open arms. You had both tainted it...

That was not the boy you fell in love with, but instead somebody meaner, a-kind to venom...

Then again, you weren't a saint yourself either, words you wouldn't have ever thought of saying spilled out of your mouth like toxin. You needed to do something fast to mend your relationship back together...

The mere thought of breaking up with the man hurts you so dearly. You just wanted your loving boyfriend back from what ever abyss he dissapeared off to. Typically your fights never lasted this long, but this one proved to be quite challenging. You just wanted him to stop yelling. But in fear of the unthinkable outcome of your protest, you kept shut and held onto the remaining pieces of your heart. You knew for a fact that Peter would never dear to lay a hand on you, so you tried very desperately to push those thoughts aside. However, his following statements made both tasks very difficult. It was as if he was challenging your composure. Like he wanted the flood gates broken.

Like he wanted you to cave in to the malicious voice whispering in your ear...

His words could've very well be from all the stress, ..or pent up insults and remarks that he'd been silently keeping in. You had no way of telling. You prayed and hoped that it was the first one rather than the assuming latter. Because maybe then, you would consider forgiving him. Even though the words punctured you like bullets, penetrating your inner layers and hurting you in more ways than one. This was not your Peter... You questioned the morals behind his words, were they intended to hurt you, or was it just in the heat of the moment. Regardless, you knew that his words would be something that lingered on forever in your head.

"I don't even know why I stayed this long with you, honestly! What do I even see in you! Stop being so unreasonable! You're easily replaceable, so i don't see why you're acting so high and mighty. News flash y/n, i could do a lot better!"

And there it was...

His current state and demeanor rivalled that of which the one you used to know. The soft spoken, kind, sweet, shy Peter. The one that still plays with legos despite being nineteen years old. You'd give anything to have him back...

You always knew that Peter could do better, but hearing this from him was a lot different than you saying it to yourself in your head. Before you had started dating you knew he had a chance with Michelle. She was a very pretty girl that went to your university, she was also Peter's chem partner... Michelle was nice, smart, and talented. You were very aware of the little 'thing' they had going on. So to your surprise, when you heard rumors of a certain Peter Parker, looking to ask you out, you almost didn't believe. Hell, you laughed straight into Brad's face and told him he was delusional. If only a hesitant, blush faced Peter wasn't stood right behind you to prove you wrong.

Ever since that day, you questioned Peter's choice. Why did he choose you, when he could've had a chance with Michelle? Someone he was more compatible with... You figured that he saw something special in you that nobody else did. Though, his previous statement proves you wrong and tells you that he doesn't even know why he gave you a chance. You're at a drift, not knowing where this relationship is headed, or where to stand. Knowing that you were replaceable to Peter weakens you. Were you really that insignificant to him? Were you a chore to be around? If so then why did he stay for two years? All these questions ran through your mind as you're frozen in a state of shock. How do you follow such a thing?

You stand silently, wails threatening to break free from your lips, as you shake. Instantly covering your mouth with your palm. You watch as he screamed at you more, words blocked out by the ringing in your ears. Truthfully, you were glad you couldn't hear his words, not knowing how to reciprocate to any more of his personal attacks.

The familiar feeling of despair began to conjure in the pit of your stomach. The tightness in your chest began to focus on your beating heart, constricting you like a boa preying on its meal. Everything around you became a hazy blur as the non stop ringing became more prominent. The cause being your angry boyfriend and his heart-wrenching words. Jolts of anxiety began to climb up from your figure tips, like a thousand spiders crawling on your skin. A feeling you know all too well crept up from behind you. You were beginning to feel frantic and scared, as your breathing became unstable.

You were becoming erratic, desperate to end the fight and be in his arms again.

"What!? Huh, not gonna clap back with some snarky remark. Admit it, you know im right!"

Peter's face was a striking shade of scarlet while he paced back and forth, hands finding themselves tangled in his hair as he mumbled inaudible words. His hair, you remember running your hands through his curly, brown locks this morning when you woke up. Oh, how happy and blissful you both were twelve hours prior to this moment. You both were so content and hopeful with the prospect of your relationship. Being able to finally spend time with each other after a stressful week. Originally, you had planned a date night with Peter. But things began to make a turn for the worse when he began to insult every little thing you did. Now here you were, an hour and forty-five minutes late for your reservations.

A taste for bitterness began to fill your mouth, as your insides churned. Waves of sadness and despair hit you like a tsunami. You suddenly couldn't stand the thought of staying in the same room as Peter. Let alone sleeping in one. Fore his words had impacted you like an arrow through the heart. You felt sick, disgusted, vulnerable, and above all else, hurt.

"God, you're such a fucking bitch sometimes!" Peter spat, but soon after stopped, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. Your once, fuming and aggressive facade was replaced with a much more subdued, fragile, hurt exterior, mirroring how you felt inside. You had given up. The bandage that held your heart together snapped.

You looked up at him, hurt written all over your face. Instantly, Peter rushed your way. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, apologize for calling you a bitch. But stopped when you held your hand out and shook your head, a sob erupting from your mouth. Suddenly, all the hurtful things Peter said rang through his own head.

Oh...

Shit!

"Baby, I-" He started, not knowing how to follow. His mouth suddenly became dry, letting out a sigh of regret. Voice coming out weak and pained. His chest tightening at the sight of what he has done to you. No no no no no no.... Peter knew you weren't the type to forgive and forget. Even if you both manage to somehow recover from this, he knew that his words would always be in your head. You would constantly doubt yourself and his transparency, thinking if it was all an act.

Regret began to eat away at him once again when he noticed your uneven breathing. Another punch in his gut when he took note of your shaking. Peter's eyes quickly darted to yours, his heart breaking when he saw the amount of fear in them. He was uncertain if you were scared of him or your emotions. He wanted it to be the second one. Peter never wanted you to see him in that light. Yet here you were, having an anxiety attack because of him...

He knew that feeling all too well, having suffered from anxiety of his own, but the fact that he was the one to force you into that state shattered him..

"Don't call me that...." You spat coldy, backing away slowly into your shared bedroom. Making sure he didn't follow and locking the door. Once in the cozy room, you sob like la llorona conveying grief. You couldn't bear to see all the happy pictures of you two, when he said so himself, you're nothing special to him. Without thinking, you began to rip off every Polaroid, framed pictures, and drawings from the walls. Not caring of ripping them. You threw them all on the floor. Your vision becoming clouded by tears as you sob. Ruining the white fabric of your oversized sweater with your makeup contaminated tears.

Your body halts, the last remaining picture was of the both of you on your first date. You always considered that day as the happiest moment of your life. But now knowing that you're just a pit stop in Peter's life, the memory manifests into something much darker than obsidian.

You inhale as you looked at the picture one more time. It was you kissing Peter on the cheek. He donned a beautiful cheshire smile, his freckles displaying proudly under the sunlight. He wore a red, hooded sweatshirt with his hero, Iron man's logo depicted on the top right corner. You always love it when he wore sweaters, especially that one. You remembered every emotion you felt as the picture was being taken. Even if you didn't, your expression held it all. You radiated happiness as the butterflies in your stomach became restless. You were so happy...

You sob lightly, your thumb caressing his face as you looked fondly at the picture. Suddenly, words that fell from his mouth earlier replayed in your head. He had purposely attacked your deepest insecurities. Jabbed and taunted you. The Peter you knew would never result to something so cruel and petty. Without putting much thought into it, you began to take the picture out of its frame.

Your ears perking up when you hear the familiar sound of the lock being picked. The jiggling of the doorknob was something you grew accustomed to. Having locked yourselves out of the bedroom on more than one occasion....

Taking one final breath, you rip the picture in two and retreated into the master bathroom. Once the door was slammed shut and locked, all hell broke loose. As if it couldn't have gotten worse alright. Your wails grew louder and more repetitive that you were being to sound like a banshee, mourning for her decaying heart. Eventually, you found yourself curled up in the bathtub, suppressing your cries into your knees as you lowered your head.

Peter finally succeeds in picking the lock, after what seemed like hours, and once he creaked opened the door of your shared bedroom, his heart broke in two. Parts of him began to deteriorate, he wished he had never said those hurtful things. He felt numb and out of touch with reality, sensing his anxiety looming over his shoulder. Peter knew that one of your biggest insecurities was never meaning much to somebody. And that weren't fond of feeling worthless and neglected. He knew your background and upbringing well enough to know just how much you disliked being treated as such.

All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. A pool of sadness brimmed his eyes as he evaluates the damage. From one corner of the room to the other, pictures were left scattered and discarded. The framed drawings of him that you illustrated, sat on the floor of your bedroom, frame cracked and shattered. The Polaroids he held ever so dearly to his heart, littered the bed and floor. He broke down in tears when he sees the torn picture of you both.

How could you vandalize such a treasured memory. But then again, how could he hurt the most precious thing in his life. Seeing the picture ripped apart like this, he knew that somehow he affected your perspective on this whole relationship. His previous words had tainted such beloved memories, and twisted them to seem like nothing more than a one-sided love. He made you question whether he truly loved you or not. Suddenly the realization kicked in, and it kicked in hard. A tsunami of guilt and regret pierced through is heart. His insides churned and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. He suddenly became really aware of how dire this situation was. His following actions may break your relationship if he didn't act wisely.

Peter bends down to hold your piece of the puzzle, a river flow of heart ache cascading down his cheeks, wetting the captured image of you. Your sobs, which had begun to sound like cries of help, due to lack of air, rang threw Peter's ears. Suddenly he grew extremely concerned and rushed to the door, dropping your image.

Immediately, you stop when you heard soft knocks coming from the other end of the door, which was soon followed by cries and sniffling sounds.

"Baby, open the door!" You don't comply with his words and stayed seated in your place, hugging your knees tighter.

"W-what are you gonna do if i don't? Pick the lock and violate my privacy! Just go away P-peter! W-why don't you go find another girl to replace me, because apparently, i-i mean nothing to you!" Screaming at the inanimate door, or more so the person behind it, as you let out a cut short wail. You hated yourself for how weak and broken you sounded. Wishing, you could drown out his stupid words that had already engraved itself deep in your brain.

"Y-you said s-so yourself! I'm easily replaceable! I-if i had known that this relationship was just gonna be one sided then i would've never wasted my time!" Apparent in your tone and words how truly distraught you were, Peter cried harder, cold sweats engulfing his body. He winced at the thought of how broken you were. It only lead him to wonder, what exactly happened and what brought on this fight. Sounding more so a statement rather than a question in his head.

He parted his lips softly, a small whimpering sigh rolling off his tongue.

"Please y/n, just open the door. I-i just want to see you. Please... I-I need to know that you're okay...." his words laced with mixed emotions, such as sorrow and remorse. Despite his current emotional state, Peter's stature looked anything else but composed. God, he was freaking out..

Incoherently mumbling a soft 'please' as he laid his forehead onto the wood door. His hand resting above his head, fist balled tightly, as if ready to start pounding. He was desperate, eyes screwing shut tightly causing a flow of tears to glide down his cheeks. Peter's jaw clenched tightly in frustration, as he beat himself over and over again for saying such things.

After much hesitance, you stood up and made your way to the door. Peter hears the small shuffle and quickly straightens himself out. After seconds of hovering your hand over the knob, you twist it open, instantly unlocking itself and setting free all the pent up emotions. You crack open the door, almost immediately, Peter rushes in and hugs you.

You don't return the hug, silently stiffening in his arms. At that moment, the last few bits of composure you had built back up snaps loose. You become a crying mess in Peter's arms. Feelings of unmeasurable sadness cascade down your cheeks, onto his black long sleeve shirt. You try and push him away, but fail due to his strength. His muscular arms constricting you as if you would fade away.

"Listen to me please." He says softly, tears lightly streaming down his cheeks, though, not to the caliber of yours.

You sniffle lightly, thrashing in his arms. Though, it was no use, his hold was so secure that no amount of resistance would break you free. So, you could do nothing else but endure what he has to say.

"I'm sorry-

Sorry doesn't fix anything Peter, it's just a word!" The teary-eyed male hissed at your words. The amount of hurt and venom your tone held was enough to make his jaw clench and his hold to tighten.

"I know it doesn't, but it's a start. L-look, i didn't mean to say that. I don't know what came over me, or what caused me to say those things. But what i do know is that they were a hundred percent untrue. And i want you to know that..." He pauses briefly to wipe away your tears with his thumb. Dipping his head into the crook of your neck. He took in your floral scent, hoping it would help him regain composure. You feel a tug on your heart at how utterly hurt and small he sounded.

"I love you with all my heart, and that you are the most unique girl I've ever met... If anything i don't know how i even managed to get a girlfriend as beautiful and amazing as you..... Wanna know why I'm with you?" You nod lightly into his chest. His hold readjust itself as he lays his head above yours. Almost content with your slight gesture, but he needed to be sure you were happy.

"It's because you accept me for who i am. You don't pressure me to be perfect all the time, you welcome my flaws with open arms; don't expect anything from me and shower me with so much love everyday... I want you to know that i could never replace you, not that i would ever want to. How did i ever get so lucky... Please y/n, you are one of the most important people in my life.... I-i can't loose you too..." Peter couldn't fathom a future with out you in it. He grew frantic, thinking that this day could be the last together. And that there would be a slight chance that you didn't want to forgive him again. He couldn't let that happen...

"Please say something...." He sighed whilst tears brimmed his eyes, taking your tightening hold on his shirt to keep moving forward.

"Do you remember when we first started dating, that night i texted you that i was frustrated and my anxiety was acting up... And you came over in a heart beat, even though you lived fifteen minutes away... Y-you told me to let it all out, and i cried in your arms for an hour, complaining about everything. I felt so ashamed for crying in front of you, but you told me that i was so brave for accepting my feelings... I know what i said must've hurt you a lot, but I'll do better... I'm sorry for triggering you like that." Peter's tone was barely above whisper, and if he hadn't have said it directly above your ear, you would've missed it. There he was... your Peter....

You thought back to the said memory and smiled fondly, that was the night you both realized that you wanted a more serious title on your relationship. Finally labeling each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. You thought back to all the happy memories you both shared and confirmed that a silly little fight wouldn't get the best of you. Yes, his words might've hurt, but his actions now out ways all of his petty insults. You give into your flourishing heart and forgive him.

Backing away from his chest lightly, you look up at him, gasping slightly at his blood shot eyes. You hesitatly reach up to cup both of his cheeks. Wiping away the remaining tears that streamed down his face. He smiled lightly and leaned into your touch, taking one of your hands in his and place a soft, delicate kiss on it.

"We'll be okay...." You smiled at his comforting words before planting a passionate, loving kiss on his lips. Peter smiled lightly before taking your wrist on his hold and guiding them to wrap around his neck. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer by your waist.

It was then that he realized that he wanted you to be the only women in his life. And that he wanted nobody else. Suddenly feeling an overly compelling urge in his heart to make up for his actions overcomes him. He was determined to trap you in his web of love again. He couldn't loose you too...

You smile in content,

portraying the victim always worked...

'Indeed, we'll be just fine.....'

Perhaps they were both awful people, fooling each other with the reality they both created. But it was done with the intent of love, sick twisted love... He was possessive and she was insecure. And together they were toxin and venom... God forbid anything that tries to get in between them...

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End Note:

For those that don't understand, take notice in Peter's words and how drastically different they are from when he was mad to when he was apologizing. Sweet at first glance but if you really dig deep you'd notice how sugar coated everything seemed, like he's saying what you want to hear. And as for the Reader, I purposely left out how much she contributed to the fight in the beginning to make it seem as though she was the victim, when in reality she was also at fault. The anxiety aspect of this story was very much 'real' since I described what it felt like for me and I wanted her to suffer from anxiety yet have something be a little off. Now, I'm not claiming that the bedroom part was a whole scene to feed her victim persona, but that's up to how you want to view it. This story is subjective and can be taken however way you want to.

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #7

Orion Amari x MC

Warning: mild swearing

Word Count: ~ 2.800

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Chapter 7: Amortentia

“… which is why, to the unbeknownst, this potion is particularly hard to detect.”

Lizzie found it hard to follow Professor Snape’s lecture. Today’s class was about potions most commonly used for drugging unsuspecting people. Under normal circumstances, Lizzie enjoyed lessons like these, where they were getting to know some real-world applications of the things they were learning at school. She had been looking forward to this class for days.

Snape was currently explaining the effects of the contents of the golden cauldron in front of him. As if the class huddled around it wasn’t acutely aware of what this potion was meant to do. The bubbling, mother-of-pearl coloured liquid illuminated the stuffy classroom with a soft light, emitting the loveliest fragrances imaginable. Lizzie constantly had to reign her wandering mind in.

While Snape was droning on about the ingredients of Amortentia, all she could do was to dream about the distinct smell of a summer evening after a thunderstorm and the wax she used for grooming her broomstick. Another scent was hinted at in the bouquet, something fresh but also spicy and woody at the same time, a bit like incense. It reminded her of Quidditch matches, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She nudged Rowan, who was standing next to her. “What does it smell like to you?”

Rowan tore herself away from her notes, staring dreamily into the distance. “Parchment and the library. Such a lovely smell…” Her voice trailed off, too enamoured with her daydreams to even ask about the scents Lizzie apparently loved the most.

Lizzie turned to Skye, standing on her other side. “What about you?”

But Skye wasn’t listening to her. She was staring at the cauldron intensely. Snape was explaining something about the procedure of sourcing the ingredients and Penny, attentive as always, was hanging onto his every word, diligently scribbling down the information given to her.

A soft, giddy laugh escaped Lizzie. The fumes emanating from the cauldron mixed with the heat of the many fires burning in the classroom were starting to get to her head.

“Earth calling Skye? You still with us?” She poked her into her ribcage.

“What is it, Jameson, I’m trying to concentrate here!” Annoyed with Lizzies constant prodding, she had raised her voice a little bit too much. Professor Snape fell silent, giving the two girls the most chiding stare, as the heads of their classmates spun around to face them.

“I take it, Jameson and Parkin object? Do you have anything to add?” His voice was freezing.

“No, Professor,” Lizzie and Skye replied in unison, both looking utterly embarrassed.

“Excellent.” He brusquely jerked his head to where Penny stood next to him. “Parkin, get over here and take a leaf out of Haywood’s book on how to be attentive. Jameson, one more word from you and it will cost you house points.”

He abruptly turned around and continued his monologue while Skye shuffled through the crowd towards the front of the class.

Rowan tapped Lizzie’s shoulder. “What was that about? Was she actually paying attention for once?”

Lizzie shrugged. All of her friends seemed to be out of their mind lately. “I don’t know. She has been in kind of a strange mood for some time now.”

Rowan opened her mouth to reply but Snape’s sharp voice cut her off, brimming with ice cold rage.

“Khanna, Jameson! Your memory seems rather short-lived. Five points from Hufflepuff each. Next time, it’ll be five points per word. Now, everyone pair up and examine the consistency of Amortentia one couple at a time. No shoving, no mindless chattering.” He directed his last words explicitly at Lizzie and Rowan. Rowan pushed her glasses up her nose, looking mortified for losing House points, as a prefect, nonetheless.

Lizzie apologetically shrugged at her flustered friend, not daring to utter another word as long a Snape was in such a foul mood.

Rowan and she were just lining up behind Merula and Barnaby when one hand fell on her and Rowan’s shoulder each. Tonks’s head appeared between the two of them, gently holding them back.

“If I were you, I would wait with lining up.” A mischievous smirk spread on her face. She snickered as Rowan grabbed her arm, obviously alarmed.

“Oh no, Tonks, what did you do? This might cost us even more points!”

“Relax, it’s nothing major,” she chuckled again. “I bewitched Snape’s scales while you were all gawking at the Amortentia. Watch!”

They turned their attention back to the front of the classroom. The silver scales they all used to weigh in their ingredients, were suddenly coming to life. Rattling its plates, it jumped off the table, hobbled over to one of the shelves and started swinging itself up on it.

Snape dived in to catch the rogue instrument, but it just hopped onto his head and from there onwards towards another shelve just above the guffawing mass of students. It started spinning on the spot as if it was dancing, before losing its footing on the wood, that had become slippery from the condensed fumes. It flailed about with its plates, but it was too late. It lost its balance and came crashing down on them, right into the bubbling cauldron full of Amortentia.

Penny, whose turn it had been to take a closer look, dived out of the way with a shriek. The splash sent up by the falling scales hit Skye, who had been standing right behind her, full in the face.

The scales were slowly clambering out of the cauldron, dripping with the mother-of-pearl-coloured liquid and shaking themselves like a wet dog. Snape seized his chance. He pointed his wand at the instrument, barking “Finite incantatum!” With a soft jingling, the once again lifeless scales fell back into the cauldron, sinking to the ground.

He spun around to his class, whose laughter had all but ceased. His face was storm and thunder.

“If I ever find out, who did this, I will have the miscreant clean all the cauldrons in this castle every day until after Christmas,” he snarled from behind his gritted teeth. He searched the faces of his intimidated students for any clue on the identity of the prankster. His murderous gaze rested particularly long on Tonks, who tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. His eyes narrowed on her for a moment, as if deciding whether to accuse her or not.

He turned his attention to Skye, who still stood in front of the cauldron, looking oddly pale. “Did you swallow any of it, Parkin?”

It took her a moment to answer him. “Yes, I think so,” she whispered, a vacant expression on her face.

“Well, Amortentia is not toxic. I know this might prove impossible for you, but try not to do anything stupid. If you start feeling faint, come see me at once.”

Then he barked an indignant “Class dismissed.”

Everyone hurriedly gathered up their things and shuffled out of the classroom.

Skye had taken a detour to the dormitory to get changed before their next class. When she didn’t show up for Defence Against the Dark Arts though, Penny offered to go check on her. When it was time for lunch, she hadn’t returned either.

Rowan, Tonks and Lizzie were headed towards the Great Hall. Tonks was still basking in the success of her prank in Potions earlier, while Rowan was torn between amusement and sense of duty.

“That will show Tulip who is the one and only master prankster in this school. I set the bar high for her.” Satisfaction was dripping from her voice.

“But imagine if Snape finds out, he will deduct so many House points from Hufflepuff!” Rowan groaned.

“Come on, even you laughed at Skye’s face when the potion hit her,” Tonks teased. Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“Speaking of Skye, I wonder where she and Penny have gone to. It’s been ages since Penny went to check on her,” Lizzie wondered.

“Maybe Skye didn’t feel well and Penny brought her to the Hospital Wing,” Rowan suggested.

A dirty grin had spread on Tonks’s face. “Or maybe they have a bit too much love potion between them and got all distracted.”

They had reached the end of the Hufflepuff table, where Orion and McNully sat in their usual places. McNully’s eyebrows perked up at Tonks’s last sentence as the girls sat down beside them.

“What did I miss? Who has drunk a love potion?”

Lizzie waved her hand in dismissal. “Not like you think, McNully. Sorry to disappoint. Skye got hit by a wave of Amortentia this morning. Don’t ask,” she cut his questions off preliminary.

Orion looked puzzled. “Love comes to us in the strangest forms; time and place can never be predicted.”

He seemed to be completely oblivious to Rowan’s deeply blushing face. Lizzie noticed, however, trying not to let her grin gain the upper hand.

“Is Skye alright, tough?” Orion sounded concerned.

The girls exchanged glances, before shrugging simultaneously.

“We don’t know, really. She went off to get changed after Potions and we haven’t seen her since. Penny went to check on her, but she didn’t come back either,” Rowan explained.

Murphy spotted Penny approaching them. “Chances are at 98,4 % we’re going to find out in the next five minutes.”

Lizzie shuffled closer to Orion to make room for Penny to sit down beside her. Her face was pale and looked like something had seriously rattled her.

“Penny, are you alright? Is everything okay with Skye?” Lizzie asked tentatively.

She didn’t answer at once, busying herself with filling her plate. “Yes, I think so. I mean, she will be, I guess. Enjoy your meal.”

She avoided Lizzie’s questioning gaze. When Lizzie opened her mouth to question her further, she shook her head.

“Give it a rest, Lizzie. Let’s just eat in peace, alright?”

They sat in silence for a while, every one preoccupied with their food. Lizzie couldn’t fully enjoy it, though. Her mind was still circling around Skye’s absence and Penny’s odd behaviour. Something had happened between the two of them, and she very much intended to find out.

When Skye neither showed up to any of their afternoon classes, nor the strategy meeting Orion had set for the evening, Lizzie’s resolve turned into actual worry. It was unlike Skye to miss a meeting or endanger her position on the team in such a way as skipping multiple classes in a row.

After conferring with Orion about what to do, Lizzie bundled herself up against the cold October winds and set out towards the Quidditch pitch. The light was fading fast and the clouds racing across the skies made her long for the cosy fire back at the Common Room.

She found Skye where she had expected her to be, huddled up on the Hufflepuff stands. She sat on one of the benches, hugging her knees and looking thoroughly miserable. The only time Lizzie could remember seeing her this downcast was in Lizzie’s first Quidditch season, when a stray bludger from Rath had prevented her from playing in the final match for the Cup.

Lizzie hesitated for a moment, hidden in the shadows of the wooden stairs leading down to the pitch. She wondered how to best approach her friend. Skye and she had been friends for a long time now, but not without their ups and downs. Skye was prone to shutting people out when dealing with her emotions and Lizzie wanted to take no chances.

Eventually she approached the wretched looking girl and silently sat down beside her. Were it not for the quick side glance Skye gave her, Lizzie couldn’t have even been there for all that Skye acknowledged her presence. For a few moments, neither of them spoke until Lizzie chose to break the silence.

“You missed the team meeting earlier.”

Skye shuffled uncomfortably next to her. “I know.”

“And class as well. We covered for you. Told the professors you were at the Hospital Wing because of adverse reactions to the Amortentia.”

Skye swallowed audibly. “Thanks.” She was still staring down at the pitch. The light was fading fast and the commentary box opposite to where they were sitting was almost indiscernible. The cold was creeping up from the damp wood they were sitting on. Lizzie shuddered.

“No need to thank me. You know what happens when we bunk off class. Can’t have you kicked off the team when the Ravenclaw match is so close.”

“I guess so.”

Again, they sat in silence. Lizzie was still trying to figure out how to go about this when Skye spoke up on her own accord.

“I really botched it this time, Lizzie,” she muttered. Her voice was agitated.

Lizzie pulled the sleeves of her Hufflepuff sweater over her increasingly freezing hands and turned slightly so as to better face her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Skye buried her face in her hands. “I asked Penny on a date.”

Lizzie’s eyes went wide at that. “You did what?”

Skye ran her hand through her dark hair in a distraught manner, her signature plait almost coming undone. Lizzie had never seen her so upset before.

“All this because of that bloody love potion! I swallowed quite a bit when those damn scales fell into the cauldron. Got me all funny in my head. When Penny came to check on me after I missed class, I was lying upside down on my bed, giggling like a little girl,” she snorted in contempt. “She was so sweet to me – she always is – and I just couldn’t hold my tongue. So I asked her out.”

With a groan at the memory, she buried her face into her hands once again.

Tentatively, Lizzie placed her hand on Skye’s arm. “What did she say?”

Skye’s head shot up again, an incredulous look on her face. “Why do you think I’ve been hiding up here? Of course she said no!” She started imitating the sorrowful tone Penny used when one of her friends was troubled. “’I’m so sorry Skye, I like you so much, but I’m not attracted to you in that way’.” She let her head drop onto her knees with a dull thump.

Lizzie didn’t know how to respond. She’d had no idea Skye had a thing for the blonde, bubbly girl. Thinking of Rowan for a second, Lizzie began severely doubting her attentiveness towards her friends’ emotions. It also explained the increasingly strange behaviour Skye had shown lately whenever Penny had been around.

“I’m so sorry, Skye,” Lizzy said softly. “I wish you had told me before. I knew Penny isn’t into girls.”

Anger flared up on Skye’s freckled face. “You’re telling me now? Thanks for keeping this small detail from me.”

Lizzie flinched. It was exactly as she had feared. When hurt, Skye had a tendency to lash out at the next best person she could deflect her anger upon, no matter if warranted or not. It was not the first time Lizzie had become the target of her emotions.

“Skye, calm down, I didn’t know you had any feelings for her.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I just made myself a complete idiot in front of her. And it’s not like I can just avoid her or anything as we happen to share the same bloody dorm!”

Her mortification seemed to have completely turned into a burning rage she now directed at her helpless friend.

“Yes, I know, but this is not my fault. So please stop yelling at me.” Lizzie ran her hand over her hair, brushing away the rogue strands the wind had pulled out of her ponytail. This was not going the way she had imagined.

She sighed. “Who could have known Tonks pulling a prank could end in such drama?”

Skye shot up off the bench. “Tonks hexed the scales? And you knew and never thought to warn me? All this fuss needn’t have happened had you just opened you goddamn mouth!”

Lizzie’s felt her exasperation beginning to turn into anger as well. “There was nothing I could have done! Tonks only told us seconds before it happened, so get a grip,” she snapped impatiently.

“Whatever. I’m done with this.” Skye pushed past her and made for the exit. Without another word she hopped down the stairs and vanished into the darkness.

Her anger fading as quickly as it had come up, Lizzie let herself fall back onto the bench and pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly feeling very exhausted.

This was going to be a problem.

#art of balance #lizzie jameson #orion amari #orion x mc #orion amari x mc #hphm #hogwarts mystery #skye parkin #penny haywood #quidditch #quidditch squad #the quidditch squad

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syndianites · 4 years

Text

Pineapples

Summary: In a world made of beginnings, it’s hard for things to stay the same. Tom and Jordan certainly didn’t. (Ianitee!Tom, Dianitee!Jordan)

Note: No content warnings attached, but please let me know if I should add any. I may make a full-fledged fic out of this idea, with a focus on Ianite and Tom trying to figure out how balance should work when they don’t click well. The side pieces would be Dianite and Jordan building into a dynamic duo, while Jordan starts to realize just what his choice means, and Karl trying to work things out with Mianite when he knows that order is not in his veins.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Also on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609547

Tom thought of pineapples the day things shifted.

It’s weird to consider. How what had seemed so solid, so steadfast, could slide just a touch to the left and change.

He wondered why he didn’t see it coming sooner-

-an arrow sailing through the air, smooth and undeterred. He knew it would land before it left his fingers. All he felt was cold, cold, cold-

-but he supposed that wasn’t really his job. Thinking was hard. It was Jordan’s job.

That brought a frown to his face. He supposed, again, that there were a lot of things that weren’t his job, now. A lot of things that were Jordan’s.

Tom was lazing about on the courthouse island, gazing up at the sky from the top of the arch. He imagined Jordan on his island doing the same- no armor, no weapons, just him and the grass around him, soaking in the sun. But he knew better. Jordan was likely tinkering away, having too many restless thoughts to take a breather.

Maybe that was why they had changed so much.

He could always see the gears turning in Jordan’s eyes, as though he were an automaton. Thoughts going click, click, click, churning and burning away until he got to a conclusion. It annoyed him. Where was the peace in always thinking? Tom was an avid believer in not thinking too much.

There was a lot he didn’t want to think about.

Or maybe they hadn’t changed at all.

But there was a simmer underneath his skin, a buzz of energy that was new to him. Tom was used to warmth, an unseen fire swelling in his chest and heating his veins. It was passion, it was drive, it pushed him to do, do, do. To laugh with friends, to destroy their lives, to wrap an arm around them, to slice a line down their torso.

There was no warmth, now. Just that buzz, that thrum. Distant but there all the same. Like an echo, a low bell bouncing between the walls of an empty village.

Tom pulled his hat down over his eyes. He was a pirate. Jordan was a captain. That should have made their roles clear, right? Simple, straight forward.

Jordan, the captain, would keep things together, keep things settled and neutral.

Tom, the pirate, would push buttons and steal shit, stir up trouble with each breath.

He thought, suddenly, of Capsize and her crew. Pirates in their own right, filled with mischief and wanting to stir up trouble of another kind. Maybe he should have known, then, what would happen. What being a pirate meant.

A whispered request. A hushed promise. “Pretend,” had been asked of him. “Of course,” he nodded. He didn’t know it yet, but that would be a lie, would be the final nail in the coffin.

A burial at sea, his body left to float along gentle waves, going out in a blaze of glory only to get snuffed out by endless water. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He thought of pineapples, instead. They were sweet. A delicacy. Made for warm, tropical climates.

It’d been a while since he had one. Tom had always been unsure if he’d liked them. Sure, they were sweet, but there was a tartness to them, a bit of flavor that stole away the sweetness. He could only have a few pieces before he had to stop and think about it.

Did he actually like it?

They were rare and interesting. It was hard to grow them here. The Isles were somewhere between temperate and warm- something Jordan had mentioned once. The salty sea didn’t help them grow one bit.

Tom laced his fingers together over his chest.

His words were sweet rolling over his ears. Tiny praises encouraging violence. Syrupy voice pushing him towards destruction. That rush of seeing something explode, the stark reality of just what he had destroyed.

Watching quartz fall, fall, fall. Watching red drip, drip, drip. There were a lot of things he’d ruined to feel loved.

Something else Jordan had mentioned, that sparkle in his eye as he divulged more information to Tom that he figured would be forgotten in minutes- but that Tom had held onto, curiously enough- was that pineapples dissolve proteins.

Something about a chemical- a cell? Something that sounded like science- that ate away at flesh if left on your tongue too long.

“Basically, pineapples eat you back!” A laugh. “I guess that’s the give and take of life, right? The balance between plants and animals.”

He’d said it as a joke, but Tom’s mind latched onto it. He wondered what else nature tried to hold onto to keep balance. What it was like to be a plant that knew nothing about how powerless it was. That didn’t know there were beings bigger and stronger than them, beings that wanted to eat them, ruin them.

Then he thought about a hooded figure with a god-killing sword and he stopped thinking for the day.

Tom, of all people, would be the one to know about eating flesh. Or, that’s what the others assumed. A zombie is a zombie, right? Hungry, yearning, surely he’d tried it once, had been curious enough?

But he didn’t know. He knew about craving, he knew about the desperate need to feel sated, but not the feeling of tearing and blood dripping-

He breathed out.

No, he didn’t know about dissolving flesh beneath his teeth. He knew about a sickly sweetness meant to hide ill-intent. He knew about that sharp, tart aftertaste of falling for a trick, of being the butt of the joke.

Tom swallowed heavily, mouth dry and throat sticky.

He knew-

- eyes that lingered on a man obsessed with purple-

-that sometimes things weren’t what they seemed. How-

- someone can change in an instant, from a detached sort, only interested in a request to lively, excited to see someone that was not you-

-you can think a certain way for a long, long time and still be proven wrong. That a fire can only burn as long as there is something keeping it alive. From firewood, to random kindling, to even the scraps of dead leaves floating down from the trees above.

Or fully blossomed poppies, deep red and gorgeous. Freshly picked with clumsy hands.

That was the point, wasn’t it? Despite how sweet Dianite had been, it meant nothing to him. It was all just scraps thrown Tom’s way to string him along, to make him believe he was valued.

To use him as Dianite had seen fit, to have him put pressure on Ianite. On Jordan. To cause enough ruckus and upset in Jordan that his faith- once so unshakable that it held through neglect, through death, through the harsh doubt that came with a goddess unknown- would be shaken.

To make Jordan feel as though Dianite would love him more than the goddess who had looked for him, waited for him, cherished him.

Tom grit his teeth. He wanted to convince himself he felt bad for Ianite. That he felt a hard and fast compassion for her, that there was a shred of good left in his heart to feel such a thing.

But he was jealous. Painfully so. Every time he had to vie for praise, for affection, for appreciation. Had to put himself out there, do more, be more, had to practically grovel at his god’s feet to get even flippant, uncaring praise.

All Jordan had to do was breathe. To let the gears in his robot brain tick endlessly forward. Have his thoughts always make sense and his memory perfect. He just had to read, and understand, and make things better than Tom could dream of.

Jordan was a captain, but he was also an engineer, a man dedicated to studying, to constant growth.

Tom was a pirate. He stole his success from tiny moments of happiness. Plundered the wealth of those around him to feel like he had any.

Time and time again, the world showed that it loved smarts over strength, but how easily had Jordan crumbled to temptation in the past? How many times had he fallen to petty tricks, to getting riled up, to being pushed a fraction of an inch outside his comfort zone?

Tom had done a lot of things he never thought he could.

He’d become friends with Karl after weeks of seeing Tucker- hell, even Sonja- in him, friends he had no guarantee of seeing ever again.

He’d settled his grievances with Mot despite the sick feeling of being replaced. Hadn’t he replaced Mot, though?

He’d fought friends. He’d fought himself. He’d fought his god.

Tom had chosen his friends over his god, who had meant everything to him.

An arrow hit its mark. He’d meant everything to him, yet nothing.

Tom didn’t feel fire in his veins anymore. Just that buzz. That hum. Whispers of something beyond this world. A tingle under his skin that felt like stars. Or, perhaps, the fuzz of the Void.

He’d turned his back on Dianite again. Of course he had. After all, that seemed to be the theme- forsaking your gods. Karl had done it-

- on accident, it was an accident. There was so much hurt in Karl’s eyes, so much fear. A voice had been whispering in Tom’s ear, but all he could focus on was the worry and concern in Karl’s eyes as Mianite flitted about erratically before them.

He shouldn’t have thrown down the armor-

-Jordan had done it, guess it was time for Tom to do it too.

And who better to turn to than Ianite? At least they could bond over being abandoned.

Somehow, he didn’t think it’d work out that easily. There was too much chaos in Tom, too much destruction and ruination and too much ready to explode. He was volatile, hurting, running on fumes of a fire long burnt out.

A gentle breeze caressed his face, pushing his hat up enough for him to peak out at the land around him. Purple caught his eye. Flowers, young and budding and barely there, had grown about him while he’d laid there.

Tom reached back up to pull his hat down once more. His head pounded. But instead of exploding, unleashing the torment he’d felt for years, tears trailed down his face.

There was a sniffle beside him and he knew he wasn’t alone.

That was a start, at least.

#mianite #Ianitee!Tom #Dianitee!Jordan #Mianitian Isles #Ianite #Dianite #pineapples used as a metaphor #angst #hurt #hurt little comfort

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pinetasticapple · 4 years

Text

What if we had known each other first and fallen in love second: The Evillustrator

Also on ao3 and ffnet !

"I can't believe you dragged me into watching the entire thing, twice!" Marinette bumped Adrien's shoulder right as they entered the school building "do you enjoy playing with my feelings Agreste? Do you?"

"To be fair, I did warn you."

"One cannot take the death of Maes Hughes twice!" she pinched his arm, grinning at his yelp "you are a monster who enjoy that pain."

"But his death was a vital point for the plot and the exploration of Mustang!" he shielded himself with his bag "and you loved it!"

"Hmm perhaps" Marinette crossed her arms "and I can see you doing puppy eyes at me to make you that Edward cosplay."

"Hey I am willing to pay every cent necessary if it means I can have that amazing cloak."

Marinette rolled her eyes but kept smiling as they walked to the science classroom.

Summer had come and gone way too fast for her pleasure but it had been fun to spend more nights of patrol and movie nights with Adrien.

It had been a stretch to hang with Alya and Nino out of the mask, given Adrien's impossibly tight schedule, but they had managed a few outings, so long Adrien's bodyguard was around. It didn't matter much as they had had fun at the park just chatting and playing around.

But the new school year had arrived and even if Marinette was somewhat disappointed she still had to deal with Chloe, who had become more obnoxious to deal with, at least she still had her friends around.

"Are you two rambling about another cartoon?" Alya raised her eyebrow at them once they reached the classroom, Marinette taking the seat next to her "you condone him way too much."

"He has a few good choices from time to time" Marinette smiled, ignoring Adrien's fake gasp of horror.

Their smiles quieted down once the teacher arrived, the entire classroom going silent as she started her lesson. Ms. Mendeleiev was strict and stern, and her class was quiet unless there were topic related questions, but Adrien happened to like them.

Even if sometimes they were interrupted by Ms. Mendeleiv ruthlessness at distracted students.

"Nathaniel!" they all heard the slam on the desk at the end of the classroom "what are you drawing?"

Oh, Marinette winced, trying to keep her vision ahead instead of giving into the curiosity of looking back. She had been there once, never tried again. But now that Nathaniel was the victim she couldn't help but to feel sorry for him and Ms. Mendeleiv's wrath.

Suddenly there was a gasp and Nathaniel tripped and fell in between the tables, his sketchbook flying out of his bag, only for it to be picked up by the least considerate person in the classroom.

"Ooh! Look Sabrina! It's him as a superhero" Chloe sneered while holding the sketchbook "and look who is saving, Marinette! He's so totally crushing on you."

Marinette felt her cheeks flush, from embarrassment or annoyance at Chloe she couldn't tell, but this was getting out of hand.

"Back to class then," Ms. Mendeleiv walked to the front of the classroom to continue on the physics lecture, the class going back to paying attention and taking notes.

"Alright, presentation groups," she turned around to face them and Marinette wanted so bad to protest against the idea. Why did teachers like to do group projects so much?

She listened as the teacher named groups of three, frowning when Alya got paired with Adrien and Nino.

"So lucky," she mumbled.

"And then, Sabrina, Chloe and Marinette."

Marinette felt the universe piling against her just for this.

"So unlucky," Alya patted her back.

"Miss? Can't you add her to another group?" Chloe asked "Sabrina and I work much better on our own."

'Sure you do' Marinette gritted her teeth.

"This is a group presentation not pairs, deal with it."

Marinette felt that message also thrown at her as the bell rang for free period. That would have been a good opportunity to work on said presentation but Marinette was so not dealing with it.

"It'll be ok" Adrien threw her a reassuring smile "Chloe is a handful but I know you got this."

"Then why don't you switch with me?" Marinette pouted "or you Alya?"

"Oh no, do not make me go through that," Alya patted her shoulder again "but hey we can have comfort pizza after it's done."

"Oh that would be good," she sighed "but go on, I'll go find…them."

Adrien gave her a reassuring squeeze and left the classroom, leaving Marinette to sigh and drag herself to the lockers where she would probably find those two.

And oh she was right as she stumbled on them talking, or more like Sabrina saying she and Marinette would do all the work.

Say what?

"Is everything ok?"

The next minutes were a test of patience for Marinette. Not only did she find out that Sabrina did all the work and Chloe did nothing, but that it was normal? What in the world was that kind of friendship?

"Sabrina," Marinette turned to her "Chloe is totally taking advantage of you, you don't have to do what she says, that's not how a real best friend acts!"

"And what would you know about best friends if you hadn't had one before? Or even worse, stealing them."

Marinette gritted her teeth.

"Friends are not objects Chloe,"

"Whatever," Chloe tossed her ponytail to a side "but Sabrina knows I'm her only friend, so she better does as I say because without me? She's nothing."

Marinette felt her blood boil, even as Chloe left them to get her hair done.

The nerve of that girl, she huffed as she grabbed her bag. She would get to work at home thank you very much.

"Marinette!"

Or not, she thought as she turned around to find Sabrina catching up to her.

"I can't believe you stood up to Chloe like that!" Sabrina hugged Marinette "it was so amazing!"

Marinette was at loss for words. She tried to smile back at Sabrina, only to end up roped into going to work to the library.

"This…is not how I imagined this day going at all," she sighed as she dragged her feet back to the library, noticing Tikki's small pats on her leg.

The next minutes weren't so bad on the other hand. Marinette found out that Sabrina was quite organized and had already started on dividing the project information for them to do equal parts of research.

Marinette grabbed a few books to get started, hoping this was not going to go downhill, only for her to eat up her words as she saw a fuming Chloe stomping her way towards their table. Well that was the shortest hair treatment ever.

And now she was a literal sandwich in between Chloe and Sabrina arguing. And hey she had never said the word slave, had she? And when had Chloe found time to go buy a new hat?

"You are trying to steal my friend from me, again, this time with homework."

Marinette actually blinked. Again? What did she mean again?

Her face must have been obvious to Chloe because she could tell the blonde's cheeks flushing as she crossed her arms and sneered, only to be attacked by hats falling on top of her.

Oh Marinette was glad an akuma was around to spare her the headache. The rest of the students flew the library as soon as a big hair dryer showed up to chase after Chloe, giving Marinette the chance to sneak behind a shelf to transform.

She jumped to the dryer that had cornered Chloe and yelled at her to run. The dryer was fighting against her, trying to throw her away like one of those mechanical bulls she had seen on tv.

"I got wind that you're being blown away by a hairy situation" she heard Chat's voice from one of the shelves.

On any other day she'd have been surprised by the three puns in one single sentence but today was not her day.

"Fewer puns, more action!" she yelled as she kept trying to reign in the dryer.

It took work and a few tumbled shelves but they managed to destroy it, only to find the akuma from above them running away after summoning a crystal wall to smack them both.

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know but he sure has a way of illustrating his point."

Ladybug groaned and stood up.

"Wow, was that one really bad or…?"

"Sorry Chat" she stood up "today is not my day."

"Ok so tone it down with the puns" he said "I guess we should go find Chloe…"

"Great" Ladybug frowned "more time with her, just what I need."

"Hey, she's not so bad- "Chat flinched at her stare "well, she didn't use to be this bad."

Ladybug pointed at the window for them to make their way to Chloe's hotel. It was also a good way to keep up the conversation without anyone else listening and piecing together the information.

"Look, I get it" Ladybug said once they reached the building in front of the hotel, her hands on her waist as she tried to calm down "she is your childhood friend and that is something special."

"Well she was my only friend back then," Chat added.

"But you have seen her at school now," she said "you have seen how she treats others and me, especially me, especially now that I think she hates me because we're friends."

"That's a little farfetched," Chat raised an eyebrow "I'm allowed to have more friends and she doesn't hate Nino either."

Ladybug deadpanned stared at him.

"She accused me of wanting to steal Sabrina from her," she pointed out "and said 'again' and now that I think about it, she probably meant you."

"Ah…" he rubbed his neck "yeah, Chloe can be a little possessive about it."

Ladybug sighed, this was not the time to have this type of conversation.

"I'll talk to her, as Adrien of course," he offered with a smile "I mean I might know a little of why she's like this now but it's not my place to say."

"Why are you such a noble guy" she gave him a small smile "but I believe you, now let's find out what has she done to be target of an akuma" she threw her yo-yo "again."

The interrogation was really going nowhere, Chat could tell from the lack of attention Chloe was giving them and Ladybug's rising annoyance.

He couldn't exactly blame her for that, he knew Chloe was well, a lot to handle but also that it wasn't a fair excuse to the situation. Chat sighed, feeling really stuck between the two girls. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of Chloe totally fangirling over Ladybug and how would she react if she knew it was Marinette behind the mask. Of course he was never going to say that but it did make him ponder on what he had heard ever since he started school.

And while he was a little afraid of what would happen, he knew deep inside he had to. He knew why Chloe was like that, but he also knew she didn't have to be.

"Ugh seriously? I'm over this!" Ladybug said, snapping his attention back to her "let's go!"

"Wow," he went after her "are you kidding? And what if the Evillustrator attacks her again?"

"Fine, you stay," she grumbled "but I just can't right now."

"Bug," he held her hand "maybe you need to chill a little first."

"Yeah," she groaned "I'll be back in a while, I promise."

"I know" he squeezed her hand "just, take some deep breaths,"

"Hm" she stood on the balcony and threw her yo-yo "later!"

Ladybug made her way back home, detransforming as soon as she landed on her bed.

"Argh!" she groaned and threw her bag, wincing when she heard Tikki's complaint.

"Hey!"

"Sorry Tikki it's just, Chloe she just agh!"

"Well simmer down" Tikki frowned "a hot head isn't going to get you anywhere,"

"It's hard to keep my cool" Marinette sighed "especially at school…oh no! Sabrina!"

Ah damn it, Marinette launched for her phone, wincing at the many missed calls she had from the red haired girl.

Ok, she could fix this. She could send a text, tell she ran because of the akuma –that was still on the loose- and figure out the next part from there, until she saw Tikki hiding under a cushion and her window disappearing like it had been erased from existence.

Marinette's day couldn't get any better as she was face to face with the Evillustrator who started to flatter her? Ok, that was something new to her. But it was until she got a card that the pieces clicked in her mind. Nathaniel was the Evillustrator. Oh, oh probably from the embarrassment of class.

"Ok," she sat back on her chaise "I think I know how to solve this out."

Chat looked out of the window, vigilant in case the akuma showed up and also thinking about the situation at hand. He couldn't of course talk to Chloe as Chat, what reason would he have to know what had happened?

"Oh Chat Noir?" he blinked as Chloe attached herself to him "are you any good at particle physics?"

"Oh this cat's got particle physics in the bag" Chat smiled. He could totally show off his strength for science beneath the mask. Next thing he knew he had Chloe's work on his lap for her to relax instead.

Ok, he was so going to talk to her after all of this is done.

It was lucky that Ladybug decided to call him and give him an opening to excuse himself out to the balcony.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks Chat, sorry for leaving you stranded,"

"No sweat bug" he smiled "so are you coming back?"

"Actually no, found out about our victim, turns out he is sort of in love with me,"

Something felt funny in Chat's stomach. Huh, maybe he needed to eat something.

"So I kind of make him promise not to hurt Chloe unless I go to his birthday party."

"Ah, I see your master weaving of plans," he ignored Chloe's shoving of her papers at him "I'll meet you there then."

He waved a salute to Chloe and vaulted himself towards the bakery, just in time to see an upset Sabrina walking away.

"Do I need to save you from her claws as well?"

"Very funny" she flicked his bell "I should be working on the physics project instead but a promise is a promise so if we want to help Nathaniel I have to go to this date."

"Right," Chat twitched at the odd sensation in his stomach "say, before that, can I please have a pastry? My stomach is feeling empty I think."

Marinette sighed with a smile and went back inside to the bakery, appearing moments later with a chocolate filled croissant for him.

"Thanks b— Marinette," he stuffed the croissant in his mouth before he called her by a usual nickname "so you work on taking away his pencil and I'll do the rest."

"Sure thing Chat."

Chat went on his way to the rooftops close to the river, staking out as he saw the Evillustrator working on a quite romantic date setting.

His stomach felt iffy again. Ugh, maybe he needed to eat something better than just a pastry. But he would have to wait until after this was done. He watched closely as the purple silhouette showed up on the akuma's face.

'Huh, bet Hawkmoth is getting impatient' Chat thought as he watched what seemed to be a struggle of one person, only for it to stop as Marinette arrived.

Chat trusted her with his life, but whenever it involved risking their civilian selves well, Chat was a little dubious about it all. Not that he didn't trust her protecting herself but there was always something unexpected.

He jumped across rooftops when the boat started to move, making sure he was low enough to be hidden from sight until he got a chance to sneak to the back of the boat.

"I actually draw a little too, I'm not as good as you are of course," he heard Marinette say, as part of their plan to retrieve the pencil. He took a small step back, but the wood creaked enough for the akuma to notice his presence.

"Marinette, give me my pencil back, I need to draw something, now!" his tone was cold and Chat was close to just jumping on him to stop him from hurting Marinette.

"No, I'm keeping it, Chat Noir now!"

He launched his baton as Marinette jumped out of the way, pencil in her hand.

"I thought you liked me!" he sneered "but you really are just like Chloe, teasing me, mocking me, leading me on!"

'Wow, first of all when had that happened?' Chat thought as Marinette huffed offended at his words, only for both to get trapped by a crystal cube falling on top of them.

"Well that went well," Chat poked at the cube's end, blinking away the light from Marinette's transformation "you have another plan?"

"Yeah" Ladybug pointed at the ceiling and held on to him "now extend your stick vertically,"

"Oh, brilliant!" he held her close and did just that, both landing on the bridge as the boat sank on the river "so I think we should probably go save Chloe…"

"Hm," Ladybug sighed "am I really like her?"

"Well if I have to compare" Chat took a step away from her "you both sure are stubborn when you put your mind into something."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Hey I did say I was going to talk with her after all of this is over" he waved his hands in self-defense "but now I gotta ask, did Nathaniel and Chloe ever…?"

Ladybug threw out her yo-yo to start moving towards the hotel, knowing Chat would be right by her side "yeah, before you arrived, they didn't date if that's what you think but let's just say the rejection lacked a lot of touch."

"Yeoch"

"Yeah, but let's go save her" she said once they reached the hotel room, just in time to see a giant high heel shoe chasing after her.

Ladybug swiped in first, breaking the heel of the drawing and spinning her yo-yo as a shield.

"Oops, broke your heel" she smiled "better watch your ankles."

"Don't want to get instep with us now, do you?" Chat twirled his baton, casting a glance at Ladybug who smiled at his joke.

The fight that ensued was a little higher in stakes with Evillustrator able to draw practically anything, soon having Chat hanging off a chunk of missing floor with a weigh pulling him down and his ring beeping the alert of detransformation.

"Lucky charm!" she yelled out as a small bouncy ball fell on her hand.

"Just try and stop me with that little lady!" the Evillustrator sneered, making his way towards Chat. Ladybug looked at her surroundings and smiled, her plan formulating as she threw it directly at one light, causing a chain reaction that destroyed all illumination sources from the room and allowing her to easily snap away the pencil that had the akuma.

She smiled as the magic washed all over the room, leaving it as if nothing had happened, and fist bumped with Chat.

"Well that's one thing solved" Ladybug said after they had left Nathaniel near his home "now I have to go fix my part of the project before Sabrina thinks I'm an evil person."

"Good luck" Chat smiled "see you tomorrow bug."

He waved at her and vaulted his way back to the hotel, detransforming before going in and up towards Chloe's room.

"Adrikins!" she jumped at him the moment she opened "oh it was a nightmare! A disaster I say!"

"What happened?" he feigned ignorance, as if he hadn't been few minutes ago in the room. He listened how Chloe overreacted and exaggerated the fight, trying his best not to pull a face at it until she was done. If he was going to do this, he had to do this right.

"Say Chloe," he said once she slumped herself on a chaise "you didn't have to call out Nathaniel like that at school."

Chloe raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean; imagine how you would feel if someone were to do that to you."

"Adrikins please" she looked at her nails "no one would even dare to try and embarrass me."

"Then why do you?" he crossed his arms "why do you do it?"

Chloe remained silent, looking at her nails and deliberately ignoring him. That was fine, Adrien was patient, he could wait.

"Ugh!" she stomped a foot down "say something already!"

"I'm waiting for your answer Chloe" he merely said "why do you enjoy hurting them?"

"I don't enjoy ugh" she pushed her hair to a side "if I want to keep my place as the Queen, they have to know to respect me."

"Chloe" he sighed "we aren't a monarchy, and you and I both know this is not going to work for the real reason."

"Don't you mention her,"

"I am not" Adrien stood up and sat next to her "but Chloe, I know you since we were little kids, I was there when your first baby tooth fell" he ignored Chloe's frown "and you were there when I had mine fall off as well, you weren't this way back then nor when we are alone, so why act so different at school?"

"You don't get it Adrien," she huffed.

"Then help me get it" he tried again "I want to still be your friend Chloe, I really do, but just as you have Sabrina I have new friends too."

Chloe rolled her eyes "yeah, I am well aware of that."

"You still are my first friend; no one can take that away from us," he smiled "and I want my friends to get to know the real you, not the Chloe Bourgeois that wants to fill shoes she shouldn't."

Chloe looked to a side and Adrien knew he had got to her, at least a little. There were things both knew weren't good, what with his father's distancing and Chloe's own shadows to fight, but Adrien had hope. Faith was the last thing to fade and he still believed in Chloe.

"I have to go now" he stood up "I kind of sneaked my way here but, can I trust you to not throw my words away?"

"You are way too good Adrien" she looked at him "but I will…ugh, try a little."

"Thanks Chloe" he gave her a hug and left the room, transforming as soon as he was in an alley to rush back home.

The next day was proof that some of his words did resonate in Chloe, as he arrived to the locker room to find her discussing something with Marinette. He couldn't help but to sneak a little behind her locker to catch some of that conversation.

"This is my part of the presentation" she said "and Sabrina told me you sent yours late night,"

"Yeah I was held up helping but-"

"What matters" Chloe interrupted her "is that you did your part and I did mine, Sabrina,"

"Yes Chloe?"

"Make sure it is top notch for later so we can get a good grade, and you better not stutter during the presentation Marinette or you'll be sorry."

"Of course Chloe," Sabrina followed after her, Adrien noticing the small smile in Chloe's face as they walked to the classroom.

Marinette sighed and closed the door, only to yelp as she saw Adrien leaning against it.

"Don't do that!" she held her hand to her chest.

"Sorry, couldn't help it" he smiled "but hey, how did things work out?"

"Way better than I thought" Marinette yawned "at least there wasn't any screaming."

"Told you so" Adrien nudged her "think it'll last the day?"

"At least until Alya stops pestering her for an interview of what happened yesterday" Marinette smiled "shall we?"

Adrien smiled and walked with her to the classroom. He had a feeling things were going to change from now on.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction

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peerless-soshi · 5 years

Note

Reylo + 7&36?

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

Florist AU + Text/Letter Fic

Rey didn’t see herself as a florist.

After all, she had grown up in a small, sandy town known for its record-breaking temperatures, got the first glimpse of green gardens thanks to picture books and killed a class plant when she had been in third grade. It’d been a cactus. Really, flower shops took the last spot on her dream jobs list. But Millenium Falcon had flexible hours, the salary was good enough for a college student as poor as a trash collector, and making bouquets turned out to be more inspiring than Rey had expected. Therefore, she was here, still surprised, trying her best, cursing and choosing flowers.

The usually blindingly bright shop was priced by red stains of afternoon, which meant that her shift was coming to an end. Rey wiped the sweat off her brow and looked down to admire the last work of her art. A mistake. Purple lavender petals looked horrible with yellow flowers, as if they were planning to bite off their neighbors’ heads. They could as well eat small insects. And she actually believed in the final result… Arranging flowers was a battle. And she was a winner. Normally, Rey would spend another half an hour changing the composition and fighting with equally ugly ribbons while receiving calls from crying brides that replaced their wedding flowers for the third time this week, but waiting for the next customer, Rey didn’t have to hurry. Mostly because the customer looked as if he bit off his neighbors’ heads, too.

There was one more thing about the flower shop, more for the benefit of Rey’s boredom than her bank account. Who knew that flowers fading on shelves would make her meet so many people? Rey didn’t like to think about it but she used to be a part of the closed world: familiar faces, familiar houses, and between them stories she had been hearing since birth.

It was a strangely exciting sensation, that getting to know a stranger.

The young man coming to the flower shop every other Friday caught Rey’s attention from the start. He wasn’t just a person who didn’t match the flower shop; he was the most mismatched person that has got there since the invention of flower shops. Rey wasn’t entirely certain what he did for living but a leather jacket so shiny that other motorcyclists could see their reflections and hair falling across his forehead in a mess suggested something less office-like and more rebel-like. There was no way a boy with a scar on his face and contempt in his eyes could possibly buy little flowers, Rey had thought. She’d been wrong. He’d even left her a gratuity. The following Fridays Rey had kept seeing him regularly until she got used to that black pole, though her curiosity didn’t fade away. Whoever the rebel was buying flowers for, they had to bath in aromatic petals and candles and maybe honey too.

Rey looked at a card lying on the counter with the same gaze she wore when someone asked her a gross question, then quickly scribbled a note.

Lavender - devotion

Among all the words that could describe her, Rey wouldn’t choose ‘sentimental’. It didn’t meant she wasn’t sentimental — just that she wouldn’t describe herself that way.

The bouquet wasn’t pretty but lavender would do.

She was finishing the last letter when the door slammed and the little bell above it rang. Rey raised her gaze. The man in black always slammed the door. He felt the need to make a scene and announce his arrival to everyone inside the shop and on the street. And possibly make Rey spill the ink, but she refused to leave a blob. Instead Rey’s reserved-yet-polite-how-can-I-help-you face met his reserved-and-uninterested-nice-to-see-you face.

“I would like a small bouquet of flowers,” the man said, although this clarification wasn’t necessary.

Rey pointed to the vase next to her. “Here. A modest but lasting bouquet. Can I add something?”

Extra decorations meant extra money, and Rey never sneezed at extra money. Though more important was nagging curiosity that turned the man in black into a matryoshka doll in which rattled secrets.

“No need.”

Rey served together the bill and the professional smile. “If you are buying flowers for someone then maybe that person has some special wishes? It would help me.”

The man in black didn’t reply. He raised an eyebrow without looking at her, but in the dim afternoon light pouring through the shop window Rey caught sight of restrained surprise. The light was red. Rey’s cheeks burned with embarrassment for some reason she didn’t understand. In fact, she could pin this to silence.

He dropped money onto the counter, once again more than necessary.

“It’s true that I bought them for someone. But this person is unlikely to express his opinion. He is on a cemetery.“

Now it was her turn to avoid answers. There was a weight to this silence, there was tension in her face. Perhaps it was more awkward than killing a class cactus.

“Please forgive me,” Rey said after a moment. But it was only external Rey. Internal Rey was hitting her head on a stone and wrapping herself in a blanket as a ball of shame.

“It’s all right,” he said, just a little sarcastically. He seemed to be honest.

“No, I’m really sorry, I should…”

Should what? Should mind her own business and not make people uncomfortable, and now, when she indeed made someone uncomfortable, she should keep her cool and gift him a dancing flower? Rey wouldn’t be satisfied with such an apology.

The man’s gaze was swaying over the line between annoyance and amusement. He said, “I put it badly. You didn’t say anything wrong because it wasn’t someone close to me. I didn’t even know him.”

“A distant cousin?”

“A total stranger.”

Rey’s eyes widened with suspicion. She struggled to think of reasons he could have to visit a random guy’s grave, except for participating in demonic mass, being a volunteer cleaning graves or possibly making fun of her. He looked like a solid one, though more facts were in favour of number three.

“Recently, my father died,” the man in black continued and waved his hand, silencing her. “Past is in the past. I just visit him to pay respects, but the grave next to him is always in a terrible state. It looks bad, you know?” He shrugged casually, which annoyed Rey, because she was busy being ashamed and this demonstration of nonchalance clashed with it. “My father had many friends, so his grave is full of flowers. It makes the other one look even worse then before, so every time I’m going to visit him, I buy flowers for that guy.”

Even if Rey didn’t know the truth, she could spot a lie. But there had to be something about a son not leaving flowers for a father, something private and more complicated than Rey would like to see. She let it be. Instead, she focused on the guy being number two. What a surprise.

“It’s extremely nice of you,” she said, using the tone containing half the truth and half the suspicion. “You don’t even know who it is.”

The man shrugged again. Maybe he wasn’t trying to be nonchalant and it was a fundamental part of his nonverbal communication.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Curious?” he repeated slowly.

“Who it was,” Rey explained. “You visit him every other Friday and you don’t know anything about him. If I was you, I would be curious. Maybe there’s a reason why his family doesn’t visit him.”

She shrugged it off to match the man in black, but compared to him, the gesture seemed amateurishly.

He looked at her, and there was a crease between his eyebrows. “I’m not nosy.” Unlike you, Rey read between the lines. She was ready to discuss when he added, “By the way, family doesn’t have to visit you, right? There are more important matters.”

He said There are more important matters like someone who considers it a very important matter. Rey spotted A Family Issue behind it; an important feature of having family issues was both the ability to see them and the ability to leave them without a comment.

“Of course, sir.”

“Kylo Ren.”

Rey lowered her head with a hint of smile. “It’s just Rey.”

She felt that telling her name meant something; that sharing the story about the abandoned grave was a secret message and Kylo Ren found Rey worthy of it. The air between them filled quite uninvited understanding.

“I’ll take the flowers then,” he said, “Thanks for your advice, Rey.”

She cast a quick glance at the note, realizing that the distance between devotion and the thing he was doing was big. Still, mourning was too heavy and Rey didn’t have statice for remembrance.

“Next time I’ll choose better flowers, just as I promised.”

For now, language was open to interpretation.

The “next time” came earlier than expected.

All afternoon Rey was locked up in her flower shop, working on wedding and funeral orders — the circle of life — when a loud vehicle spat with exhaust fumes at the curb. Rey didn’t understand immediately; the man in black’s schedule has never failed her, so recognizing the flower shop as a meeting point for dark guys was more reasonable. It was a coincidence that the new bouquet was ready when the door slammed as loud as if a motorcycle parked in the window.

Kylo Ren greeted her in the door.

“Oh,” Rey muttered, little eloquently. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she added, which was one of many things she shouldn’t have said.

Kylo Ren’s gaze was between annoyance and resignation. A very not-man-in-black condition. He said, “I want to ask you for another message.”

“Message?” Rey repeated.

“Last time you left me a note in flowers, right? Then I need your help.”

Oh. Rey rubbed her fingers together, as if she was wiping non-existing ink away from them. Somehow, talking about her sentimentality didn’t seem right, but it was also difficult to explain — she did write the note, no use denying it — so she accepted the topic. “What kind of message would you like to include in flowers?”

To her surprise, Kylo Ren exaggerated a pissed sigh and crossed his arms. “Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?!” Rey snapped. No one was to insult her while she was working, especially not a client to whom she devoted so much work.

Rey was ready to punch him when Kylo Ren explained, mixing perfectly exasperation and obviousness, “I want you to make me a bouquet that says fuck you. In capital letters.”

It was an unexpected change of game.

“You’re still visiting that stranger?” Rey asked to make sure.

Very coolly, he said, “He’s not a stranger anymore.”

“Maybe some details?”

Kylo Ren looked as if he swallowed acid. “What you said earlier… I could be a little curious. Just a little.”

Corners of Rey’s lips moved up. Kylo Ren grinned in response.

“I checked his name because I wanted to learn anything,” he said, “Have you ever heard a surname like Snoke?“

“I don’t think so,” Rey answered and tilted her head.

“He was a serial killer.”

Now Rey’s lips formed a beautiful, round O. She overheard? Some things needed to be said twice, even if one understood them perfectly, and so Rey asked, “What did you say?”

And so, Kylo Ren repeated, “I said that I was leaving flowers for a murderer. For almost half a year.”

“This…” Rey paused. “This explains why nobody else left him flowers.”

“I looked like a psychopath.”

“There are worse things.”

Kylo Ren nodded, as if he agreed with her and listed all worse things. “So can I order a fuck you very much bouquet, please?”

When the first wave of shock was over, Rey felt laughter rising in her. Bringing back her professional smile, she said, “See you next Friday.”

She should decorate the bouquet with geranium. Once Rey had read that its message is foolishness.

#star wars #reylo #kylo ren #rey #my writing

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