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percabethfeelsfandom · 3 years

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Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 6: Age 18

“California is pretty far away,” Percy says softly into the night as Annabeth lays on the rooftop by his side. He hears her shift so that she can look at him, and he mirrors her, looking at his reflection in her pale eyes.

“2914.9 miles,” she answers.

“You really had to choose the farthest college from me didn’t you?”

Annabeth snorts and shakes her head.

“Yes Percy, I chose it purely because it’s the furthest from you in particular.” He pouts and pushes himself up on an elbow so he can look down at her.

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I’m not just leaving you Perce, I’m leaving everyone else as well. My Dad, my brothers, Thals, Grover...not just you.” Her face shifts and he sees sadness replace her joking smirk.

“Yeah but I’m special...I’m your favourite.” Percy is half-joking but he wishes with all his heart that the first part of his sentence is true, that he is in fact special to Annabeth. Special in the same way that Annabeth is special to him.

“Don’t let Thals hear that,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes but Percy leans in closer, poking her repeatedly until she’s laughing.

“You’re only saying that because it’s true.”

“Shut up.” Percy notices how she doesn’t deny it and it brings a smile to his face.

“I’m going to miss you.” His heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze as his voice softens and his smile drops. Annabeth gives him a sad look and pokes his chest trying to get him to look at her properly.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now Seaweed Brain, we’ve still got summer.”

“And then you leave and forget me, and find a cool Perry Johnson to be your new best friend.” He says and dramatically throws his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s about to faint.

Annabeth groans and pushes him away so he falls back on the blanket they’ve laid out. The other two aren’t due to arrive for another hour, but Percy has been spending so much time at Annabeth’s house already, that it made no sense to go back to his last night, so he stayed over and helped set up the apartment rooftop for their sleepover under the stars.

He thinks they’ve done a pretty good job for the two of them, there’s an array of pillows, blankets and sheets all over the floor, and plenty of snacks to last them through the night. A couple of years ago, way back when they were younger, Mr Chase set up fairy lights along the edge of the roof, so they’re not in complete darkness, not that New York can ever be truly dark. The lights illuminate Annabeth’s features as Percy turns his head to her, she looks like a goddess and Percy swallows deeply when she returns his stare.

“What are you looking at?”

Percy shrugs and sits up so he can rearrange snacks that don’t need rearranging to hide his blush at being caught.

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Can you sign this, you never did?” Annabeth says changing the subject and tugs on his arm so he can come back and sit with her.

He looks at her confused until she brings out her yearbook. Their school emblem shines on the front cover, and she places it in his lap, pressing herself to his side, so she can flip the pages, looking for an empty space to write. On the back, there’s an entire blank page and she smooths the paper down and hands him a marker.

“All yours.” She says and watches him expectantly.

“Are you going to watch me write in it?” He twirls the pen uneasily and rubs the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable under her intense gaze.

Annabeth huffs. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Can you?” He asks half-jokingly.

“You’re such an idiot. Fine. I’ll go check if there’s anything we forgot downstairs. Do you want anything?” He grins as she shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed.

“Anything blue.”

“Of course,” she mutters and gets up, using his shoulder to steady herself. He leans into the touch and tries to ignore the way his body misses her warmth when she leaves.

When she leaves Percy flips back to the front, reliving their senior year, one page at a time. He skips past the photos of the people in his grade and goes straight to the events. It starts with homecoming, and there’s a photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Thalia all dressed in black suits. Percy smiles fondly at the close-up photo of Thalia and Annabeth posing together, in matching suits and corsets. Since Thalia broke up with Luke, she’s reintegrated back into the group with no issue, and it’s like she never left.

He turns the page, skipping through the other homecoming photos, and pauses at the one of him and Annabeth. It’s a candid, and even though he’s already seen it, his heart still stutters, because in the photo she’s fixing his hair in the photo right before the official photos like she always does, and Percy can’t help but think about how much they look like a couple.

He keeps turning through the pages, trying to find more photos of their group. They’re not a very social group, preferring to hang out with each other than go to school events, but they’re at all the major ones.

There are small snippets of them at the football games, student fairs and pep rallies, it’s not till the end where there are photos that focus more on students not part of clubs that he sees more pictures of his friends.

There’s one of them all laying on their back enjoying the sun looking up at clouds the way they used to when they were kids (completely unaware that someone is taking photos of them). There’s even a photo of Grover with Thalia on his shoulder as she tries to climb a tree with toilet paper in her hand from prank day. The next one is a blurry photo of Percy completely wrapped in toilet paper and chasing Annabeth.

Moments from their senior year have been captured and immortalised in these pages, and Percy’s heart heaves at the thought of leaving this all behind or watching people leave.

Tears start to prick at his eyes as he reaches the graduation and prom photos. There’s a huge shot of his entire grade, a choice of a few students throwing their caps up. In the corner on the page before the prom photos, there's a small snapshot of the four of them, their arms thrown around each other, heads pressed together. He remembers this moment vividly. All of their names are relatively close together in the roll, so as soon as they were announced, he had bolted straight to Grover, who had bolted to Thalia, who had bolted to Annabeth, and they had all ended up screaming and jumping into each other's arms.

He’s going to miss this.

He finally comes to the prom photos, and he’s not surprised when his breath catches in his throat when he sees Annabeth in her prom dress again. It’s a deep blue, the colour of the sky above his head, and it makes his stomach flutter each time he sees it. In the photo, she’s posing with Thalia again, but she’s mid-laugh and Percy would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite photos of her. He has copies of photos from the night on his computer, but the ones taken at the venue are better quality, it’s almost like he’s back there in the moment.

Thalia had come with a date, once again wearing a tight-fitting suit, a girl on her arm and Grover had brought Juniper, his girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to go together, just because it was easier.

“Platonically,” he remembers telling Grover. He remembers Grover laughing and shaking his head.

“There is nothing platonic about you two but okay. Have fun, Perce.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grover had never explained what he meant and it still haunted Percy.

There isn’t a photo of the two of them at prom together, at least not in the yearbook, but he asked for a favour from a friend in the yearbook committee and has the photos that didn’t make it on a USB drive back home. His favourite is his wallpaper, and it’s of him and Annabeth dancing their heads bent close together. It’s not obvious it’s them two but he can recognise her blonde hair anywhere. That’s another moment he holds close, them dancing and swaying to a song they don’t recognise, whispering to each other in the night. He’d almost told her that night. Told her everything, about what he felt, about how he would always feel, but when she let go, he realised that he didn’t want to risk losing what they had. It was too precious to him.

Percy finally reaches the page that Annabeth initially brought him to and he uncaps the pen, tapping the back of it against the page a couple of times trying to think of a message. It’s not an accident that he didn’t write in Annabeth’s yearbook. When they were all doing it, Percy had purposefully avoided her because he knew that what he had to say to her couldn’t be said like this.

He sighs as he begins a doodle instead. A little owl because he knows that they’re her favourite, and a dolphin because they’re his. His mind is still blank at what to write to her, but he knows she’s not going to let him get away with not doing it this time.

He hears footsteps coming up the staircase and he writes the first thing that comes to his mind. The only thing that never leaves his mind when he’s around Annabeth. It’s not a long message so he’s finishing it just as Annabeth sits back down. He slams the book shut and chucks it behind him so that she can’t immediately read it. She notices and raises an eyebrow.

“Read it later. It’s embarrassing,” he says sheepishly. She laughs and hands him a bag of sour blue candy stripes. He tears open the package and starts eating as he hears other footsteps. Grover and Thalia appear in the doorway, holding pillows and even more bags of snacks.

“Let’s get this party started!” Thalia exclaims and drops her stuff unceremoniously on top of Percy, burying him under the wright. Everyone laughs at him as he sputters his way out.

Thalia plugs in some music and Annabeth helps pull Percy to his feet, and they start the feast of snacks. Grover helps Percy set up a projector for their movie and it’s nearing midnight when they finally settle on Disney’s Hercules.

As always Grover falls asleep halfway through the movie, murmuring about how his tummy hurts in his sleep. They take group selfies with him, and Percy grabs the marker next to Annabeth’s yearbook so that he can draw on Grover’s face. He’s holding back giggles with Thalia as they pose next to him and Annabeth takes a photo of them.

He pulls both girls close to him when he falls back and squeezes their shoulders.

“I can’t believe my favourite girls are leaving me to deal with this idiot,” he says and nods to Grover who has started snoring. Thalia scoffs and pushes his face so that he lets go of her. He gives in but doesn’t take his arm off Annabeth, and he swears that Annabeth cuddles just a bit closer to him.

“We’re not dying, Percy, we’re just moving to the West Coast,” Thalia says as she opens a can of coke and Percy briefly remembers how he first met Annabeth and how she had protected him from Nancy. He exchanges a look with her and sees that she’s already smiling at him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“Betrayal. That’s what this is,” he says and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder again. She threads their hands together and Percy tries not to react and turn to her again.

Thalia catches his eye and smirks at their interlocked hands.

She stands up and brushes her pants.

“I need to go pee, do you two need anything from downstairs?”

They both shake their heads and she nods before carefully stepping over a sleeping Grover and leaves the two of them.

Percy and Annabeth stay like that, leaning on each other, hands interlocked and Percy wishes he could freeze this exact moment.

“Did you write something?” Annabeth asks softly as she pulls away from him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Percy nods tightly and she smiles as she reaches across from him and grabs the yearbook from their makeshift table. She skips straight to the back and opens to his page. She gave him an entire page to write on, but there’s only one sentence in the middle and two small doodles. She stares at it for a moment, rereading it before she looks up.

“You’re my number one,” Annabeth reads, holding the yearbook open at his page, “What does that mean?”

Percy swallows, suddenly terrified. There’s no time like now to tell her, and he has no real doubts about loving her, but with her unflinching gaze on him like this, it’s hard not to be nervous. He tries not to overthink and takes a deep breath, speaking the truth that he’s kept under wraps for years.

“There’s only one meaning, Wise Girl, what else could it mean?” He says with a shrug and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “My Mom once said that people who have a big heart have a lot of love in them to share, but they’ll always have their number one, and that’s you. That’s been you for years, my entire life probably.”

He takes another breath and waits for Annabeth to respond. When she doesn’t he continues, suddenly full of words. “You’re the one for me. The only one that I could ever want. The one I put before everything. You’re my-”

“Do you mean that?” Her face is full of doubt and Percy brings their joined hands up so he can press his lips to the back of her hand.

“Of course,” he breathes, and pulls her closer. He’s barely breathing when she puts the yearbook down for a moment. They stay frozen like that, pressed against each other, foreheads touching and breath mingling.

“I think I was made for loving you,” he whispers and carefully pushes her hair back.

The smile she gives him is one to rival the sun that is going to rise in a few hours.

“If that’s so, then I was made for loving you just as much.”

She kisses him, and he almost forgets his name. He brings his hands up to cup face and bring her closer and she smiles against his lips and-

“Seriously? You two couldn’t wait until after I was asleep. Jeez.”

Annabeth jerks away from him and they both stare at Thalia who is giving them a tired look from the rooftop doorway. Percy can’t help it and starts laughing, shortly after Annabeth joins and falls onto his chest, laughing too hard to keep herself up. Eventually, Thalia sits back down and bites her lip trying not to laugh, but the more she tries to keep it in the funnier it gets.

By then all three of them are laughing so hard their stomach hurts and Grover stirs awake.

“What’s going on?”

“This,” Annabeth says and proudly holds up her hand that is still firmly clasped in Percy’s hand.

Grover blinks sleepily at it and shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“About freaking time,” he says and lays back down.

Percy and Annabeth look at each other again and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“It was worth the wait.”

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

132 notes · View notes

pars-ley · 3 years

Note

hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?"

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab."

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics.

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is.

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?”

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm.

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands.

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented."

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this?

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there.

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds.

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave.

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking.

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside.

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze.

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?"

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building.

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No."

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

"Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline.

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before.

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is.

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie."

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?"

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after.

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks.

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade.

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice.

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

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writemekpop · 3 years

Text

Ex’s and Oh’s | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Summary: Drunk and stranded at a house party, you have no option but to call your ex Jaehyun. When you see him, you realise you want him back. How far are you willing to go to prove it?

Genre: Ex-Boyfriend!Jaehyun, Angst, Suggestive

Word Count: 1.6k

Gif: @johnni

“W-watch it,” you slur.

Liquid splashes down the front of your sequin dress. It takes your rum-riddled mind a moment to work out that someone’s spilled their drink on you.

You can’t tell if the room is spinning or you are. “God, why did I drink so much?” you mutter. But deep down, you know why you did it – to forget about him.

You push through the crowd in the living room into the garden. Drunk people are littered across the lawn, some making out, some fast asleep.

The fresh air calms you, but only for a moment. A sickening feeling washes over you. You grasp at your purse, but to your horror, it’s empty.

“My phone!”

You look back at the heaving house. There’s no way you’ll be able to find your phone in that mess.

“Hey, you!” You dash towards a boy sitting near you, almost tripping over your heels. “Can I borrow your phone?”

The boy nods and hands it over.

You stare at the keypad, desperately trying to remember any phone number that isn’t his. But it's useless. You can only remember one string of digits. The ones seared into your heart.

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Jaehyun?”

There’s silence.

Then, “Y/n?”.

And it all comes rushing back – Jaehyun’s dimples, his deep laughs, his pink hands and pinker cheeks. You’re so overwhelmed by the memories that you forget to answer.

He snaps you out of it. “What do you want, Y/n? It’s 2AM.” Jaehyun’s once chocolatey voice is ice cold. You suppress a shiver.

“Jaehyun, I’m sorry for calling you but I’m at a house party and I lost my phone and I don’t know how to get home and-” you gasp. “Can you please come and pick me up?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying that he’ll say yes.

There’s more silence.

“Jaehyun…” you plead. “I didn’t know who else to call. I’m… I’m scared.”

You hear a sigh. “Alright. Stay where you are, Y/n. I’m coming.”

Warmth trickles through you. Thank god.

You sit on the porch step, shivering in your mini dress. Just as you're about to doze off, you hear the low hum of an engine. Your eyes snap open.

You see a battered blue Prius pull up in front of the house. You’d recognise that car anywhere. After all, it’s where you lost your virginity.

Jaehyun steps out, and you almost gasp. He’s just as handsome as you remember – scratch that, he’s more handsome.

A head of soft purple hair frames his smooth skin. His dark lashes fall onto towering cheekbones, with those deep dimples you could spend eternity in.

Jaehyun’s wearing a simple black T shirt, but you can see a new definition rippling underneath.

When he sees you, Jaehyun's lips form a tight line.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks, gesturing at your skimpy dress.

You wrap your arms around him, locking him in a tight embrace. “Not anymore,” you mumble against his chest.

You breathe in his cologne, grapefruit and cinnamon. You're weak at the knees - and it's not just the alcohol. But Jaehyun is frozen under your touch, hands hanging limp by his sides.

“Thanks for coming, Jae.” You hiccup.

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you…” Jaehyun says, avoiding your eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jaehyun starts pacing towards his car.

You hurry behind him, but you can barely manage a straight line. Suddenly, your heel snaps, and you thud onto the wet grass.

Jaehyun whips his head round.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” he asks, crouching down in front of you. His brows crease with concern. When he catches you staring, his face falls blank.

“Why did you have to drink so much, Y/n?”

“Why do you think?” You nurse your scraped knee, which stings more with shame than pain.

Jaehyun holds his hand out for you. You grasp it, ignoring the sparks that fly through you, and let him haul you up.

When you stand up, you’re so close to his face that you can see the faint blush on his papery cheeks.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” You slap your hand over your mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”

The tiniest smile appears on Jaehyun's face.

The drive home is quiet. Every time you try to talk, Jaehyun just looks away.

The passing streetlights pulse bright amber on Jaehyun's face. He grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles go white.

You rest your head on the door and stare out of the window. The world fades into black…

When you wake up, you realise you’re in the parking lot of your apartment block.

Jaehyun is standing outside the car, on the phone. His denim jacket forms your makeshift blanket. It smells like the Christmas you shared together.

You step out of the car. Jaehyun sees you and hangs up.

“Who were you talking to?” you ask.

Jaehyun just purses his lips. “Do you think you can walk alone?”

You nod.

The bright lights in the lift make your head throb. “Was that your new girlfriend you were on the phone with?”

Jaehyun pauses, then nods curtly, avoiding your gaze.

Your stomach clenches with bile, and you have to grab the lift handle for support. Thankfully, the elevator door dings open.

You stumble down the hallway to your apartment, Jaehyun following silently behind you.

You step inside your apartment, chucking off your high heels.

Jaehyun stands at the doorway, picking at invisible dust on his jeans.

“Thanks for bringing me home. Do you… want to come inside?”

“I better not.” Jaehyun says, pushing his hand through his hair.

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling a lot more hurt than you’d expected. You pick up a glass of water from the side table.

But then, the glass slips out of your hand and smashes onto the floor. You stand there dumbfounded, staring at the broken shards by your feet.

Jaehyun runs into the apartment. “Don’t move. Are you hurt?”

“I…” you touch your cheek. Your fingers come away wet. You hadn’t even realised you were crying.

You take a step towards Jaehyun. Your bare foot lands on a shard of glass, and you yank it back, hissing.

“I told you not to move!” Jaehyun steps towards you, his Timberlands crunching on the glass.

Jaehyun places one arm around your waist and the other under your legs, lifting you into his arms. He carries you bridal style towards your bedroom. You don’t have to tell him the way.

You feel so safe in his arms. “Why did we break up again?” you murmur.

Jaehyun sighs softly. “You broke up with me, remember?” You turn your face into his shirt, feeling his warmth pulsing through. Jaehyun’s heart speeds up.

Jaehyun pushes your bedroom door open and gently sets you down on your bed. You lie and watch as he picks some pyjamas from your wardrobe.

He places the clothes on the pillow beside your head. “I really should go now…”

Jaehyun turns towards the door, but you catch his wrist before he can leave.

“Wait… don’t go,” you whisper. Jaehyun stands frozen. You lace your fingers with his.

“I miss you… and I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk.”

Jaehyun’s broad shoulders rise and fall. You can’t see his eyes, but you pray that they hold the same longing you feel.

You gently tug Jaehyun around till he’s facing you.

You take in Jaehyun’s glistening eyelashes, the firm set of his jaw, his head hanging low. Your heart breaks to see him like this. This is your fault.

Jaehyun slumps down on the bed next to you.

“Please say something,” you whisper, your heart thumping against your ribs.

Jaehyun lifts his head and stares at you. You notice, for the first time, that his hazel eyes are flecked with gold. Your breath catches. Why had you never noticed that before?

You place your hands on his shoulders. Jaehyun stays absolutely still as you drag your lips up the soft skin of his neck.

“Jaehyun…” you murmur.

You lean in and kiss him on the mouth. Jaehyun gasps, but his hand trails up and cradles the back of your head.

Jaehyun kisses you back, and you slide back together like no time has passed at all. You feel his lips everywhere, his warm breath touching every inch of your skin.

When you pull away, you’re both panting.

“You should get some sleep,” Jaehyun says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

As if on cue, your head starts to spin. You nod, mentally promising to never drink again. You can’t imagine what you look like right now – a mess wouldn’t begin to describe it.

Jaehyun helps you pull your dress off over your head. He averts his gaze from your chest as he helps you into your pyjamas.

When you’re dressed, you crawl under the duvet cover.

“Will you stay till I fall asleep?” You hide your burning cheeks with the duvet.

“Of course,” he whispers.

---

The morning sun presses on your eyelids, forcing you awake.

You clutch your head as you sit up, feeling liquid rolling forward in your stomach.

Your eyes go to the bean bag at the end of your bed. Jaehyun is slouched, fast asleep, long limbs spilling onto the floor. His purple hair sticks up in crazy tufts, but he still manages to look angelic.

Warmth floods your veins. He stayed!

Suddenly, you hear a phone ring. The sound smashes into your skull at a million decibels.

You scramble to stop the hideous noise, and see a black phone on your bedside. Without thinking, you accept the call.

“Hello? Y/n speaking,” you mumble.

A woman’s voice crackles over. “Who are you and why do you have my boyfriend’s phone?”

You gasp. His girlfriend. You totally forgot.

You hang up without responding. You look over to Jaehyun, who’s wide awake. His face is deathly pale.

Shit.

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h0rnyshakespeare · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Nico di Angelo x Will Solace

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 973

Warnings: None

A/N: Yes, I am a proud member of the Riordanverse fanbase :) this is something I wrote for my friend who lives for Solangelo caz it was their birthday and I know they stalk my account 👀

I also had a conversation with said friend about the Riordanverse characters' coffee/tea preference which inspired me to write this. If you want headcanons for the other characters on their preferred drink, lemme know! Also could someone suggest a title for this caz my brain is currently empty :/

Nico walked out of the Hades cabin, bleary-eyed and tired. He felt as if he did not sleep a wink the night before, which was highly possible considering his insomnia. Right now, all he needed was coffee to brace himself for all the energetic, ADHD demigods he would have to endure for the rest of the day. Especially one demigod in particular, who Nico referred to as his ‘significant annoyance’.

How a son of Hades – god of death and darkness (woohoo!) – and a son of Apollo – who was the literal SUN god – had gotten together, Nico did not know. All he knew was that it had happened, meaning that every day when he got up and out of his cabin, he was greeted by the cheery face of Will Solace.

While Nico secretly enjoyed seeing his boyfriend first thing in the morning (although if anyone asked, he would deny the fact), unlike Will, he was not a morning person, so handling the human form of positivity and sunshine needed a lot of energy, something Nico lacked not just in the morning, but throughout the day as well. So, when he had first found out that caffeine existed, he quickly turned into a coffee-addict, something Will had always chided him for.

Just like any other day, Will was waiting for him as he exited his cabin. “Hey babe,” he greeted Nico, smiling as if he were the most beautiful existing creature on the planet. With his messy bedhead and dark circles under his obsidian eyes however, Nico was not feeling very beautiful at the moment. He walked towards Will, who had his hand held out for Nico to hold, which he did, a slight blush gracing his pale cheeks which Will pretended not to see but caused him to grin wider.

“Sleep well?” he asked. “Ughhh coffee…” Nico mumbled in response, rubbing his eye with his free hand. Will chuckled and pulled him closer. “I told you you could sneak into my cabin whenever you wanted. Sleeping with someone you love is actually really good for your health and helps you sleep better.” “One, obviously I can’t sneak into your cabin because there are like, ten other people sharing it with you. And two, I don’t love you, I hate you, so it would actually be very bad for my health to sleep with you.” Nico was actually not lying about it being unhealthy though, as he knew he was as addicted to Will’s cuddles as he was to coffee, if not more. To sleep with him would probably send Nico into cardiac arrest with how much his heart would beat.

Will placed his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, di Angelo. Anyway, you must be hungry. Let’s go eat breakfast, alright? You really gotta eat more. And please don’t drink coffee on an empty stomach, the caffeine will kill you one day.” Nico rolled his eyes. “You’ll be all the way over at the Apollo table, you can’t stop me.” “You forgot you have a doctor’s note,” Will smirked. Nico chose to ignore him. They walked in silence towards the dining pavilion for a while, before Will asked, “Why don’t you try drinking tea for a change?” Nico glared at him. “Will, I love you, but please for the love of gods, don’t try and get in the way of my relationship with coffee.” “I thought you were in a relationship with me??” Will pouted. “Nah, you’re just the side-chick. Sorry bud.” “Hey!”

They sat down at the Apollo table, Nico immediately making himself a black coffee. Will wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Why would you drink it black?” “‘Tis as dark as my soul,” Nico said in a dramatic whisper, to which Will rolled his eyes, sipping something out of a boba cup. Nico looked at it curiously. It was so… pink and pastelly. He chucked inwardly; his boyfriend was adorable. “So, what’re you having?” “Hm? Oh this?” Will said, gesturing to his drink. “It’s just a regular milk tea boba. You want?” Nico did want to try it, but he was still working on… what was it Will called? Ah yes, ‘effective communication.’ Plus, he had a reputation to keep. “Hell no, that looks way too… pink.” Will laughed. “That’s just the cup, it’s a cute colour though, isn’t it?” “I know it’s the cup,” Nico hissed. “I don’t want it.” “Well, if you say so,” his boyfriend replied, finishing the boba. “Mm, that was good.”

After breakfast, Will and Nico parted ways to go on about their daily camp routines. When evening arrived, the both of them met up near the lake, something they did everyday to spend time together. Will’s smile doubled when he saw his boyfriend sitting on the grassy bank. “Hey, I brought you something.” It was another boba cup. “Milk tea? I don’t drink the stuff, Will, coffee supremacy.” “Come on, we all know tea is better. And bubble tea is even better. Here, try it. I know you wanted to earlier.” Nico grumbled and pretended like he did not, but he knew Will knew him too well for that. “Whatever,” he said, grabbing the cup and taking a tentative sip. It was… good. Not as strong as coffee, a little sweet but not too much, and very creamy. Nico finished it before he realized. He glared at Will who was smiling back at him knowingly. “So? Did the Lord of Darkness enjoy it?” “Shut up,” Nico said, looking away to hide his pout. He knew he had a bad habit of pouting, something Will called ‘cute’. He really did not deserve Will.

“It was good, thanks,” he blurted, surprising both himself and his boyfriend, who grinned his adorable sunshiny grin and ruffled Nico’s hair before kissing his forehead. “Of course, babe.”

#riordanverse #nico di angelo #will solace #nico x will #solangelo #riordanverse fanfic #solangelo fic #solangelo oneshot #solangelo fluff #solangelo fanfic #will x nico

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

Effectively Trained (2/2)

Yandere! Hawks x Reader

Warning: this story contains non-consensual touching, forced sex, mentions of serious harm and abuse, kidnapping, and excessive use of strong language! 18+ only please <3

Part One

Today was finally the day that the young malnourished woman was finally going to get a taste of freedom. She forgot what it even tasted like after a year of being locked up. She wore a beautiful white sundress, something Hawks had gotten her for a date in the house. Her head peeked out from the bathroom, no make up whatsoever on her face remembering rule 13. There luckily wasn’t a rule about styling her hair. She had a cute braided bun with a shiny feathery pendent Hawks got her to keep it up and neat. She had a small leather brown purse to accompany her, the pro hero’s credit card snuggly tucked away in a small wallet. Excited was an understatement, she was ecstatic to go off in her own. Sort of.

“K-Keigo? I’m ready.” She called out for him, awaiting his approval on her outfit. The messy haired hero sent a feather through the door, the barbs poking lightly at her back to get her to move towards the door. She quietly and quickly obeyed and walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he had a toothbrush between his teeth, only clad in a pair of grey boxers. His wings were droopy against the floor, utterly relaxed in the comfort of his own home. His avian eyes peered up to approve of her attire. He frowned. “That outfit was only meant for my eyes, dove. Buuut...” He trailed off and scratched at his chin. She spent a year studying his body language, and immediately knew he was considering letting her go with the dress. His feathers fluffed up and rose from their droopy state back to life against his back. “Alright. Think of this as an apology for fucking you unconscious last night.”

“Th-Thank you Keigo...” She voiced her gratefulness and walked over towards him, slowly placing a chaste kiss onto his soft lips. He smirked and cooed in approval of her actions. A scarlet red feather drifted from his wings and he nestled the feather within her hair neatly, luckily it was one of his smallest feathers. “I’ll be a bit more lenient today with some of the rules. Gotta try and act as normal as possible or else people will get suspicious you’re some drug dealer or somethin’ like that.” He chuckled and ran his hands down her sides, admiring the way she looked in the dress he’d gotten her. He stared down at her seriously and his eyes glinted in warning. “Now don’t forget the rules though, dove. It would be a shame if you never saw a lick of light ever again.”

Her face paled. She nodded anxiously and hugged him tightly, burying her face deeply into his chest, almost as if she was trying to merge herself with him. “Glad you understand, dove.” He pried her off of him and smiled down at her with a careless smile, perceived as a ‘you better not fuck up today’ from his lover. He tilted her chin up and stared into her eyes, admiring their lovely color. “Your eyes are still so beautiful. Even when you’re scared out of your pants. Get going before I change my mind.” She quickly obeyed his orders, scrambling out of the apartment and to the elevator. Her heart was hammering harshly against her chest being away from Hawks. It was almost like a dream. ‘Why am I so anxious? Shouldn’t I be happy to be away from him? Why do I feel this way...’

His abuse had beaten her down. She now even felt uneasy without him by her side. Yes he went on hero business regularly and she would be alone in the house, but she would be locked up in his bedroom, everything that smelled like him, gave her comfort. She was crazy for missing him, but after a year of only having contact with him, no matter how bad it was, she was now terrified of the outside world. She even forgot how to use an elevator. Her sweaty hands clenched onto her purse, her body trembling a bit. ‘I thought... I wanted to go out, but I want to go back home! I want to go back to Hawk-‘ She stopped her inner thoughts once the red feather nestled in her hair came out neatly and nuzzled against her cheek.

He could sense her nervousness. Hearing her heartbeat, feeling the vibrations of her shaking body. When she obeyed, he treated her like an angel. Just like now, while she was scared to death, he comforted her with a small feather. Her fingers gently touched the soft yet sharp barbed object, smiling softly at his comforting act. ‘I... like when Hawks is like this. Sweet and caring, and not like... his really possessive side...’ She shivered and gently pushed the feather back into her hair as soon as the elevator doors opened. Her mouth hung open seeing the bright and beautiful lobby. Hawks always flew her out to events, so she’d never gotten to see the lobby. She looked around nervously and quickly exited the building before someone could speak to her.

Once she was outside, for the first time actually being free, she felt her heart speed up a bit at the sight. Birds were flying cheerfully in the sky. So blue, so beautiful, and the sun kissed her face, welcoming her to the true beauty of the world. The wind blew gently against her face, and the smell of spring whisked through her nose, urging her to venture more. She stepped out and smiled genuinely, looking around the city at all of the lively people, the shops, the busy streets, leisurely heroes on patrol. So normal, so peaceful to her. A part of her still wanted to go home however, but she pushed that thought away and pushed on.

First stop, grocery grocery store.

She grabbed the small metal cart and began to push it slowly through the store, examining all the foods stocked up on the walls everywhere. Her stomach growled hungrily seeing all the food. ‘Only take what you need...’ She thought to herself. By the end of her journey she had three bags of chips, four packs of chicken tenders, three packs of ground chuck, two loaves of bread, enough coffee for Hawks, some coffee for her, tea, soda, candy, gum, feminine products, Plan B, crackers, bananas, apples, vegetables, eggs, and even a cake. People looked at her as if she was crazy. Her cart was stacked as high as possible. ‘Oops... I went over board... at least we won’t have to go to the store anytime soon.’

“Okay ma’am. The total today is 436.35.” Her face paled drastically. She went WAY overboard. She didn’t make eye contact or even look up at him while she pulled Hawks’ thick black credit card out, silently handing it to him. “Uhm, you just insert it there ma’am.” Her face lit up in embarrassment and she put the card in the small slot. It was backwards. “You have to put that yellow chip in.” She nodded quietly, putting the chip inside the slot. She watched as the small reader lit up and asked for her pin. It was Hawks’ card, and she didn’t know the pin. She began to panic. They would know it wasn’t her card and think she stole it, especially from the number two hero. It was like her lover read her mind. The short feather drifted from her hair and drifted over the reader, carefully pushing the pin in and pressing enter.

Approved!

The cashier’s jaw was dropped all the way to the floor. There was no mistaking the signature red feather that floated as if it had a mind of its own. The clerk looked up at the woman and saw her slowly whisper to the feather. In a flash, more feathers came bolting into the store, careful to avoid people and whisk to grab the bags of groceries. “Th-Thank you, Hawks... s-Sorry...” she whispered softly to the feather in front of her. Of course it didn’t respond and went back into her hair. She smiled softly at the card and took it, putting it back into her wallet. People were staring at her, all eyes focused on the feathers surrounding her. They all slowly disappeared once she stepped out of the store.

Second stop, book store.

Because Hawks had taken her phone and didn’t allow her to have one, all she could do was read books. If anyone knew the lazy hero at all, they would know what a glutton he is. He likes to eat, sleep, and go on leisurely patrols that he never gets. The only book he had in his possession was an autobiography by Destro, a villain. She had already read the book cover to cover. It was an enjoyable read, but she couldn’t completely understand the stuff mentioned. She picked out a couple of sweet romance books, fantasy, thrillers, and cooking books. Once she was at check out, she reluctantly put the romance books back, worried Hawks would be angry. Once she check out, she once again asked if Hawks would kindly take the books to their home.

He obliged, even though he was all the way on the other side of town. Luckily they were only small bags of books and not a trunk full of groceries. As a break before going to the park, she stopped by a small little café for a coffee and a snack. Once she had received her items she went to sit at a table outside. Her body was slowly getting used to being free again, and having the luxury of being her own person once more. “Excuse me.” She recognized that voice. Her head jerked up to see the number one hero standing tall above her. His intimidating gaze was fixated on the feather stuck neatly in her hair, showing off to him that this indeed was Hawks’ lover. “Can I sit here?”

She only slightly nodded, instantly regretting her decision once she felt the feather begin to vibrate. The quickly shook her head in disapproval to his actions, but it was already too late. He had sat across from her with his arms crossed. His posture perfect, gaze intimidating, muscles flexing underneath his tense demeanor. “I’m actually glad I found you, I have a couple questions for you.” She didn’t meet his gaze whatsoever. He huffed in annoyance and started to question her. “I’d like to know your real relationship with Hawks. You were acting very skittish at the event last night. Why is that?”

No answer.

“You know it’s rude to ignore someone. Maybe you are Hawks lover. Taking on his childish ways.” Her head slowly raised, and the pro hero was shocked to see tears spilling from her eyes. Terror stricken down to the core of her body, her hands now shaking in the small cup of coffee she had in her fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Let me-“ he reached his hand out awkwardly trying to offer a bit of comfortable support. He’s been trying to become a better hero ever since he became number one, so fan service and reassuring people were all new to him. Why not start with Hawks’s girlfriend? “DON’T TOUCH ME!!!” She shrieked unexpectedly. Everyone was now looking at her and the pro. The next words that fell from her mouth sealed her fate. “HE’LL HURT ME AGAIN!!!”

Hurt her? Again?

Endeavor narrowed his eyes. “Again? What do you mean again? Is Hawks hurting you?” (Y/N) snapped her hand to her mouth quickly, realizing she had fucked up. She jerked her head around and saw everyone staring at her. She stood quickly, starting to back up as tears streamed down her face. Endeavor stood and reached out for her again, but in a flash of red, Hawks was in between them, making a loud thump on the ground alerting everyone of his presence. The look in his eyes held pure rage, his wings outstretched wide, showing a dominant stance over Endeavor, feathers fluffed to the brim displaying his anger. His eyes suddenly focused on civilians and he gave a cheeky smile.

“Baby bird!! You okay? Nobody hurt you did they?” He asked with worry, turning to face her. The woman lunged into his arms, sobbing into his chest and muttering a sloppy slur of apologies. Hawks’ arms immediately went around her waist, holding her deathly close, his thick gloved fingers digging into her sides as punishment. She only cried harder and shouted apologies, causing a huge scene. The winged-hero smiled warmly and rubbed her back soothingly. “It’s alright dove, I’ve got ya now.” Even though his voice was warm and reassuring to everyone, the woman in his arms understood the hidden emotion behind them. Utter rage. He looked at Endeavor and waved his hand lazily. “Sorry about that folks! Didn’t mean to interrupt you! Endeavor, could I talk to you?”

“Good. I need to talk to you too, Hawks.” Endeavor spoke, a bit of venom dripping off his voice. ‘Could Hawks really be hurting this woman? Judging by her actions, it seems that way.’ His cyan eyes followed Hawks’ movements, watching carefully as the number two hero whispered into her ear. He took great note of how the feathers of his wings fluffed up more, standing on edge almost. A pair of harsh, angry, possessive, golden avian eyes collided with a sea of turquoise, wings spreading further towards the sky in warning. “Come to my agency later. We can talk then.” He turned around and held his woman close to him, wings lowering slightly as he was about to take off. Before he did, he turned with the angriest face Endeavor had ever seen on him. “And don’t you dare... reach for my beautiful angel ever again.”

——

‘If he just wanted me to meet him here he should’ve said that instead of sending me on a wild goose chase.’ The flame hero stood in front of the number two hero’s door, knocking three times. After he received no answer he knocked harsher. He could slightly hear scrambling coming from the other side, followed by the flapping of wings and a deep laugh. Hawks was the one who opened the door, only in a pair of sweatpants and covered in sweat. “Nice of you to finally join us, Endeavor. You’re a bit late.” The flames around his face glowed brighter, displaying his irritation with Hawks’ lazy behavior. He huffed and pushed passed. “Can’t even fix yourself to greet a guest. How-“

He stopped immediately once he saw the damage Hawks had caused. There on the floor laid his lover, in her beautiful sundress covered in hickeys and love bites, her head dizzy with her legs shaking. Hawks smirked smugly and feigned his surprise. “Oh man! Sorry Edneavor, just couldn’t keep my hands of her ya know?” The winged man walked closer towards his lover and pulled her up by the hair, smirking and giving her a small kiss. The woman winced and lowered her head obediently awaiting the next order. “Go clean up, we’ve got a guest. The number one! Don’t wanna look bad and ruin my reputation do you?” She shook her head desperately and stumbled up, rushing to the bedroom, small drops heard as she ran with her dress on. Hawks snickered and grunted. “Makin’ a bigger mess now. Droppin’ all of my cum outta her loose pussy. Guess I gotta teach her better, huh Endeavor?”

“What the hell is this Hawks? Some kind of sick joke?” Endeavor became angry at the way Hawks was just treating this random woman he didn’t know like some useless toy. Hawks only blinked, his wings fluffing up, but his face showed a fake cheeky smile. “Nope, that’s my beautiful baby bird. She likes to be beat, have her abused cunt full of my fuckin’ cum til she can’t move anymore.” Endeavor wasn’t believing that lie one bit. Hawks’ aggressive behavior earlier revealed enough that he was purely jealous. The number one hero knew about abuse, he’d done it, and regretted it ever since. His family hated him, he killed one of his sons, or so he believes. Seeing Hawks take such a path, it was disappointing and disgusting. “I want to talk to her.”

Hawks’ feathers were standing on edge now, fluffing more and more, his anger overflowing, but he still displayed that stupid smile. “Sure thing! Lemme go get ‘er for ya.” He turned around, back littered with painful scratch marks, feathers missing from the bottom of his large wings. A few feathers came off, floating to life, but he didn’t get too far before Endeavor stopped him. “Let her clean up, I’ve already canceled plans for this.” Hawks smirked and turned back towards him, shrugging his shoulders and using the feathers he sent to clean up the mess on the floor and couch. Soon the winged-hero’s lover returned all cleaned up and everything. “Come ‘ere dove.” He offered his hand out to her, to which she quickly took and went straight into his arms.

“Can I talk to you privately miss (Y/N)?” She shook her head quickly, but Hawks was quick to intervene. His wings possessively came around her, shielding her from his suspicious gaze. “Awe come on Endeavor. We’re a pair here, whatever you gotta say to her you can to me too.” (Y/N)’s eyes slowly peeked out, and she finally met Endeavors gaze. That look, he’d seen it before. It screamed, ‘help me!’ And that’s just what he was going to do. “I just want to talk to her.” He glared at Hawks, demanding he leave them both alone. The hero’s feathers fluffed, but he shrugged passively. “Alright. Don’t make any moves on my girl ya here?” He joked and walked away, his wings twitching occasionally.

The two sat in silence.

Her eyes were locked on Endeavors, hoping to convey her message through sight. However, any move she made, murmur under her breath, nothing would go unnoticed by Hawks. He was listening. A scarlet red feather was carefully hidden under the couch, where her eyes could barely even see. Her eyes moved in a quick motion, indicating she wanted him to look down. Cyan eyes moved down to lay on the feather on the floor. He understood the situation very clearly now. A bold move was made, he grabbed her hand and stood. “Let’s chat some other time.” She smiled softly and mouthed a soft thank you. Her eyes stared at the hero before her in admiration. Someone willing to help her.

Maybe she would finally be free?

“Be careful until then. Don’t let him do that anymore. I know a thing or two about what he’s doing. It cost me everything.” He knew Hawks was listening. It was a threat. The feather shook under the couch, displaying a hidden anger. (Y/N) nodded gratefully. Her heart rate was already accelerating at the thought of having a normal life again. Sure it would take time to adjust not being near Hawks, but she would eventually have an ordinary life again. Endeavor was hesitant to leave her by herself with the presumed hero. Worry settled in his gut, and he ultimately turned and walked out the door, his fists clenched. ‘She’ll be alright until tomorrow. I’ll bring back up if I need it, something tells me Hawks isn’t going to let her go anytime soon.’

Once that door was closed, feathers came and harshly jabbed into her back, shoving her down to the ground. She cried out in pain as blood poured from the wounds, and the stinging pain ached in her chest. “You fucking slut.” He calls out darkly, wings spread menacingly, feathers fluffed, pupils shrunken as he approached her. Her body was still aching and weak from his lustfully powerful assault on her before Endeavor got there. “You let him touch you, you fucking looked at him with those beautiful eyes that were only meant for me. ME!” His voice wasn’t as angry as she expected it to be, sure it sounded furious, but there was desperation evident. She looked back and was horrified by what she found.

He was crying.

Though his eyes showed complete and utter rage, salty tears still cascaded down his soft cheeks, hurt by her continued disobedience and want to get away. “Why... why do you continue to fuckin’ disobey me?! Don’t I do everything for you? I’m your favorite hero remember?! You’re my angel! My beautiful dove! MY MATE!!” Her eyes were wide, pupils shrunk in fear, her body stiff as a board. He brought a feather blade up in his hand, and without even thinking he began to take out his rage. Hawks had snapped. His hand moved repeatedly, shouting angrily and hurling insults. “ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS LISTEN!! BUT ALL YOU WERE WAS A DISOBEDIENT LITTLE BITCH!!! YOU FUCKIN’ UNGRATEFUL SLUT!!!!” Her screams fell upon his deaf ears, too blinded by rage and sadness to even acknowledge anything else. He continued to shout, bringing the feather down again, hot liquid splattering onto his abdomen. “WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO HURT ME?! YOU’RE ALL I HAVE LEFT!! I-I DO EVERYTHING AND YOU STILL DON’T LOVE ME?!?! WHY!!!! TELL ME WHY!!!!”

Splat!

He stopped. His wide terrified eyes casting downwards to look at the horrific sight before him. There on the floor laid his lover, his baby bird, his angel, his dove, his everything. Multiple stab wounds were present in her stomach, arms, legs, and feathers had stuck harshly to her arms, hands, and feet, keeping her pinned to the ground while he assaulted her. Those beautiful eyes he loved, were now dull and lifeless, slowly losing color. “(Y-Y/N)? H-Hey dove... get up. Come on baby bird. Come ‘ere.” He opened his arms with a reassuring smile. She didn’t move. His eye twitched, tears welling up. “Baby? Come on, let’s just go to bed. I’ll tuck ya in, get you some chicken. I promise I won’t hurt you again okay? How does that sound?”

No response.

He was beginning to lose it now. What had he done? “Get up.” He ordered sternly, his teeth grit tightly, his fists shaking while his wings slowly began to lose their strength and slump against the floor. He reached down and grabbed her shirt she’d put on, pulling her up and angrily glaring. “I said; get up.” He demanded. Once again she didn’t move. Accepting what he’d done, he fell to his knees in front of her lifeless body, his avian eyes wide with tears streaming down his face. He’d fucked up. He hurt her really bad this time. He killed her. His feathers couldn’t even pick up the soft thumping of her heart. It was gone. “No... what have I done...? I’m sorry... come back... please come back...”

“COME BACK!!!!!”

—

“Isn’t this Hawks’ place?”

“Yeah, a couple neighbors said they heard loud yelling and crying last night, along with a bunch of banging.”

The two officers assigned to check out Hawks’ apartment were lazily conversing while they debated whether to actually go in or not. They believed the number two hero would defend himself easily, that this was probably nothing. One officer raised his hand and knocked on the door, only to discover the door was already unlocked. They both immediately looked at each other and pulled their weapons, slowly opening the door. Blood was splattered all over the floor, feathers evident everywhere. There was the faint sound of laughing coming distantly from the bedroom. The officers carefully explored the house, making their way to Hawks’ bedroom. As soon as they arrived and saw him, they went to his aid.

“Hawks! Are you alright? What happened?!” The pro hero was sat slumped in front of his closet with a dreamy smile on his face. The whole right side of his face was abused and dripping blood. His pants and shirt were stained completely, the irony spell infecting his nose and numbing his body. Once the officer got to him, his stomach churned in terror. A sharp feather was held in the hero’s shaking hand, covered in blood. His right eye was missing, lazily laid on the floor beside him. In place of his eye was a sloppily positioned beautiful lifeless (E/C) one. “What... what happened?” Hawks didn’t even acknowledge the man, only continued to stare into his closet. The officer slowly looked up to the closet, and froze in horror.

There in his closet, stained in blood and littered in feathers was the pro hero’s lover, (Y/N) (L/N). Her right eye was also missing, revealing to the officer that Hawks was the one that killed her, carved her eye out and placed it in himself. “She... is with me forever.” He announced weakly, his lips stretching into a sadistically terrifying grin. His hands shook and his wings rose up shakily, spreading them wide as if he was still trying to impress her. “She’ll always be with me... can you see angel? Can you see what I did for you?” The officer called out for his partner and pinned Hawks to the ground, bringing his radio to his mouth and calling for an ambulance and back up. The hero still kept his eyes on his woman, smiling at her while blood continued to gush from his wounds.

“We’re together forever angel~”

—

Endeavor slowly opened the door to Hawks’ room. Dressed in black with two guards beside him. Guilt bubbled in his stomach and he felt like he was going to vomit. If only he had stayed with her and not left her alone with Hawks, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He read reports about the carnage he had caused. He still couldn’t believe Hawks was even capable of such a thing. His cyan eyes rose to meet the crazed figure laying in a bed, scarlet wings absent from his back. The former pro hero’s head was wrapped, a patch covering the eye he had torn out himself. His wings tightly wrapped and stripped of the feathers, preventing the growth of anymore deadly weapons sprouting. Hawks smiled and waved.

“Heya Endeavor! Thanks for joining us!” He carelessly removed the wrappings from his head, his face swollen and damaged. His idol stood before him, visiting him and his lover, he wanted to look his best —and show off his beautiful lover. “(Y/N) says hi too.” He slowly opens both his eyes, a golden eye in the left, a (E/C) eye in the right, fully functional. The doctors had made a drastic decision to go ahead and replace Hawks’ eye with the one he forcibly replaced. The sight would forever haunt Endeavor to the core. He would always be remembered of his mistake. His mistake that cost an innocent girl her life. “We’re glad you came to visit. There’s so much we wanna talk about!”

‘I’ve learned my lesson, (Y/N). I’ll never take my anger out on you again. Now we’ll live together, forever, and no one can separate us!’

#my hero academia #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #hawks smut #hawks x reader #hawks bnha #yandere hawks

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Text

Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 3 of 16

Happy (late) Thanksgiving if you celebrate it! 🦃

~~~~~~~~~~

Yet another restless night and strange dreams had you up and atom as soon as the sun started to come up, and you managed to notice Minho going into the maze...with Alby.

Strange...Alby wasn’t a Runner.

You quickly got dressed in your usual Builder attire, wincing as you tried to get around your sprained arm, and headed over to Newt, who was walking back from the maze doors. “Dude, what the hell? Why is Alby going into the maze?” You asked hastily.

Newt sighed, keeping up with his pace back towards the Homestead. “He’s gone to retrace Ben’s steps. See why he might’ve been stung in the middle of the day.” He explained. “He’ll be fine, Y/N.” He said, sensing your apprehension towards the situation.

Gally didn’t take the news of Alby too well when he found out. He thought it was stupid, and understandably so. But he tried not to let it distract him from doing his job. Although, your obvious distraction caused him to get a little hotheaded.

“If you’re not gonna focus, then just go do something else.” Gally scolded.

“What? I-I’m not...distracted.” A lie, but not for the reasons Gally thought. You knew Alby could take care of himself, it was the newfound information that Thomas felt just like you is what was insanely distracting.

Gally chuckled bitterly. “Yeah...right. Just go hang out with your new buddy or something.”

Your heart seemed to clench at Gally’s hurtful tone, but you chose to wear a bored expression and listened to his petty request. “Fine.”

Newt smirked when he saw your scowl as you walked over to their little group, clutching you machete tightly. “Trouble in paradise?” He teased.

You held up your middle finger, proceeding to kneel down beside Zart to help him cut down a tree base with your good arm, which was thankfully your dominant one. “Never been paradise.” You muttered. “He’s upset about Alby.”

“Don’t bring it up, please. Tommy and I just had a lengthy conversation about it.” Newt sighed, giving an irritated glance over to the Greenie who was sitting on a log with Chuck.

Thomas rolled his eyes, getting up to help cut down the last of the tree. “There ya go, Greenie.”

You looked up towards the sky, noticing the darkening of the clouds and the cooler air, soon feeling the cool water raining down. “Great.” You mumbled, gathering your tools and heading to the Homestead along with everyone else.

You and Gally met each other’s gaze while walking towards cover from the rain, he seemed remorseful, but he looked away and continued forward. “You alright?” Thomas asked from beside you.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine. What about you?”

Thomas sighed. “I’m worried about Minho and Alby. Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

You shrugged, trying not to think about losing even more Gladers, but Thomas was less than satisfied with that answer and went to Newt.

Instead of following after Thomas, you went deeper into the Homestead, heading towards her hammock just to rest your feet while you could, also trying to ignore the aching in your arm.

You didn’t know how much you could take of this. Spending your whole life in a prison, constantly watching your new friends die one after another. It was sickening. You didn’t want this to be your life. It couldn’t be. You felt like Thomas felt the same way, but you couldn’t be sure just like you couldn’t be sure if he felt the same way about your “connection.”

God, you were so tired.

“Y/N?”

You sighed when you saw Gally looking to you with a face of slight concern. “What is it?” You asked, not exactly trying to sound polite.

Gally scratched the back of his neck and took a step forward to you. “I just wanna say...I’m...sorry.” He said, sounding like just saying the words were painful. “I’m just worried, I guess. About Alby.”

You nodded, understanding as you felt the same way. Though, being worried didn’t cause you to be overly mean to someone, but you didn’t feel that saying it out loud would get the conversation anywhere. “I get it. I’m worried too.”

“Can I sit?” Gally asked, pointing to your hammock.

You blushed slightly, but nodded anyway, scooting over a bit to give him room to sit comfortably.

Trying not to blush was extremely difficult as it was, so trying not to blush when Gally sat right beside you, his body slightly leaning against yours, it was damn near impossible.

“If I hurt your feelings, Y/N, I’m sorry.” Gally sighed. “The whole thing with Ben...”

“It’s okay, Gally.” You gave a reassuring smile, gently taking a hold of his larger hand. You almost grinned when you saw his face flush red. “Ben didn’t deserve to be stung. He was a good guy.” You said, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“All he wanted was to find a way out...look where that got him.” Gally huffed, making you frown. “These shanks just gotta realize this is our home now.”

You shook her head. “This isn’t our home, Gally. Someone put us here, mostly likely against our will. This will never be our home.”

Gally scoffed. “Come on, Y/N.”

“We shouldn’t have to settle for this. We don’t belong here.” You sighed, getting up from your hammock as you heard the rain stop thumping against the building.

Everyone gathered at the maze doors, waiting to see if the two Runner boys were alive, if they make it back before the doors closed.

Newt was visibly on edge, as was Thomas. The rest of the Gladers basically had the mentally that Minho and Alby were goners. Gally stood beside you as you were biting your nails nervously. You weren’t particularly close with Alby, but hanging around Newt meant hanging around Minho, therefore you were his friend by association.

As the doors groaned loudly, you let out a quiet whimper, running your fingers through your hair furiously as the doors started to close. Gally placed his hand on your shoulder to try and comfort you in some way, but it didn’t do much when Thomas pointed out two shadowy figured at the end of the entrance passage of the maze.

“It’s them!” Thomas yelled.

But something was wrong.

Minho was dragging an unconscious Alby by his arms. The doors were still closing rapidly, all the Gladers yelling words of encouragement toward Minho...he wasn’t going to make it.

“Thomas, no!” You yelled along with the rest of the Glader boys, watching in horror as he made a run for it before the doors closed completely.

If it weren’t for Gally keeping a firm hand on your shoulder, you would’ve absolutely ran after Thomas, probably getting crushed to death in process. “No! Fuck!” You yelled, shoving Gally off of you and storming off towards the woods.

“Y/N! Wait! Goddamn it...” Gally called out after you, trying to jog to catch up with you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled when he finally found you.

“What?” You yelled.

“You were gonna go after that slinthead! Why the fuck would you do that, huh?” Gally fussed, making you groan and roll your eyes. “Answer me!”

“I know him!” You let out in a rage, immediately sighing in frustration.

Gally furrowed his brows. “What...what do you mean you know him?” He asked, almost accusatory.

“I...I don’t remember him. I just feel like I know him, or knew him. Before the maze, and I don’t know why. It’s confusing, I know. But it’s something I can just feel in my gut.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

You sighed. “I know...trust me, I know. I didn’t ask for this.”

“Even if you did somehow knew him before coming here, that doesn’t mean you have to risk your life for him. It was stupid. And if I wasn’t there, you’d be dead right now.” Gally scolded, and then he sighed. “Do you...have feelings for him?”

You snapped your head up towards Gally with a look of shock. You definitely never expected to hear that come from his mouth. “What? No!”

“Don’t lie to me, please.”

“No! I don’t, geez. I like you, shuckface!”

Gally paled. He wasn’t exactly expecting that either. “You do?” He stuttered.

You rolled your eyes for, probably, the tenth time that day. “Yes, you twit. I thought that was obvious.”

Gally seemed speechless for a moment, placing his hands on his hips while looking to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You chuckled bitterly. “When would I have had the time?”

He shrugged. “You did now.” You sighed yet again. “I’d kiss you, but you seem to be in a state of distress...”

You gave him an incredulous look. “And you’re not distressed? I know you don’t like Thomas, but Minho and Alby?”

“I do care, okay? But they’re gone now...there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“There was though! We could’ve sent someone to find them!”

“It’s against the rules, you know that.”

“Just something! Not just stand there and wait...” Your voice wavered.

Gally sighed, taking some steps toward you until he was right in front of you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry...that we couldn’t save them.” He said, pulling you into a hug while you just let tears fall freely from your eyes.

“They could still make it...” You whispered, making Gally huff and release his hold on you.

“Y/N...you can’t be this dense. You know no one-”

“Survives a night in the maze, I know. But Thomas is different...”

Gally rolled his eyes, running his hands over his face with a groan. “I can’t listen to you drive yourself crazy over this. They’re gone, okay! They’re probably already dead. So just stop trying to convince yourself that they’re not. It’s the best, for you and the others.”

“Gally-”

“Drop it.” He deadpanned, turning and storming off towards the Homestead.

You didn’t want to believe him. You couldn’t. You couldn’t believe the first person you felt you might’ve known outside the Glade was dead after just days of meeting him.

So you kept telling yourself Thomas will survive. Minho can survive. And Alby.

You didn’t speak to Gally at all after that conversation.

A lot of the Gladers thought you were insane, believing that there could be any hope for the three boys. Some of them were just curious, them all sitting scattered around the maze doors. But Chuck was standing right beside you, just anxious for those large doors to open.

You were grateful for Chuck.

You definitely felt a bit protective of him, since he was the youngest. It made you wonder if you had any siblings in the outside world, if they were even alive. If you did, you hoped that at least one of your parents were alive to take care of them if they were on the younger side.

But you probably would never know.

You and Chuck’s ears immediately perked up when the doors started to groan, signaling that they were about to open for the day.

Newt was anxious to see if the boys made it as well. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Even if he did go out to the Deadheads to cry out his frustration, he pretty much had already come to terms with the losses as soon as the doors closed yesterday evening.

You nervously starting biting off some of the rougher skin around your nails as the doors slowly parted open, just hoping that you’d see those three boys waiting to come back inside the Glade.

You winced when you accidently bit too much skin off, looking down to see crimson already start to bead at the surface of your thumb.

You sighed.

It felt like this was the longest time it’s ever taken for the doors to open. Probably because your anxiety was in overdrive, basically on the verge of a panic attack, but you didn’t let it show. You couldn’t, not when Newt would absolutely send you off to Jeff to do those stupid breathing exercises that you hated when you first came up in the Box.

Gally wasn’t at the doors, obviously. You knew he wouldn’t, not even for you. He was adamant that his fellow Gladers were already dead. God, you never wanted someone to be wrong so bad.

And yet, the doors now fully opened...there was no one on the other side.

You felts tears burning your eyes as Newt placed his hands on you and Chuck’s shoulders, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m sorry...but I told you, they’re not comin’ back.” Newt said sadly.

“Come on, Y/N.” Chuck sighed, dejectedly turning around to head back towards the middle of the Glade.

You almost did too...until you heard the shuffling of feet from inside the maze. So did Chuck.

You gasped when you saw Minho and Thomas carrying Alby. “No way...”

“Yeah!” Chuck cheered, while you ran into the maze corridor to help the two boys carry a still unconscious Alby, while all the other Gladers came back to witness this...a miracle really. It was against the rules, but couldn’t care less.

“How?” Was all you could say, in shock and awe.

“Just help us get this shank inside, will ya?” Minho grunted, while Thomas gave you an exhausted smile.

“Easy, easy.” Thomas said while lowering Alby to the ground, the Gladers surrounding the three boys.

“You saw a Griever?” Chuck asked, seeing that Alby was stung when Jeff looked over him.

“Yeah, I saw one.” Thomas panted.

Minho seemed to smirk, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “He didn’t just see it...he killed it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

My computer is basically dead and off at a shop but probs won’t be fixed soon due to Thanksgiving. So, I’m writing this on a friend’s laptop and the keyboard is so small lmao. So I apologize for any misspellings because of my fat fingers.

#the maze runner #gally x reader #tmr gally #gally #sweet pandemonium series

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doctors-star · 3 years

Note

6 &/or 22

send me a prompt

6. hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss

“Howdy, Will Williams.”

The dark head flicks abruptly up and round, spine straightening guiltily out of a lazy slouch. As he turns, Will runs a quick hand through his hair to push the longer locks back and then jams his hat on his head, as though likely to be scolded for not wearing it; then he actually notices who the intruder is, and his shoulders relax out of their habitual tension. “Johnny McPherson” he says with a blink-and-miss-it half smile, nudging the bridge of his thin wire-rimmed glasses with the tip of his thumb. “Didn’t hear you coming.”

Johnny spares a moment to be gently, internally amused by this as he slings his leg out of the stirrup and over his horse’s rear, dropping neatly to the ground. He had, after all, ridden over to the man’s campsite at the foot of the rocky outcrop and made no attempt to be quiet about doing so: his horse had huffed and snorted; the hooves had sounded against the beaten earth; Will’s own horse had raised his head from the bag he had been nosing at and whickered at them. And Will, Lord help him, had been too busy watching coyotes to notice a damn thing. How the man ever even found the animals was beyond Johnny; sometimes he reckons a man could set fire to Will Williams’ boots in a darkened room and he’d only move his book closer to the light so’s he could read it better.

He nods in the vague direction of the prairie and whatever had held Will’s attention so thoroughly. “Your coyotes behavin’ today?”

Will smiles again, just as fast as before. All of Danser Town will be damned if they have any idea what, exactly, it is that Will Williams has come out west to do; explanations are offered and eyes glaze over, but Johnny reckons he was told something about animal behaviour and Will hasn’t since told him different. Probably on account of how he won’t listen, or remember, or ever understand why it matters how good or bad an animal acts, but this here is a good enough joke anyhow. “It’s, it’s buffalo, today,” Will corrects gently, pointing at the smudge of brown on the landscape downwind that will, if one focusses, coalesce into a herd of enormous, shaggy creatures with hunched spines and bad-tempered expressions.

Johnny squints under the brim of his hat, and then nods. It is, indeed, buffalo today. “Bought you a present,” he says cheerfully, looping his reins over the same branch as Will’s and turning to his saddlebag.

Will’s eyes narrow slightly in suspicion, but his lips turn up at one corner too, like he’s been handed a riddle he reckons is funny but whose punchline he doesn’t quite have figured yet. “You did?” he says, awful careful.

“Sure,” Johnny says, making the effort to sound slightly wounded that Will would ever expect anything but the kindest friendship from him as he roots in the bag. When he flicks his eye Will’s way, he can see that the smile has advanced into a bitten lip and the dark eyes have narrowed yet further. “I brought you some of Ma Masham’s bread-” he produces a paper-wrapped parcel about the size of two fists and chucks it to Will, watching his eyes light up as he moves to catch it. Ma Masham makes good bread. He allows Will to peel the brown paper back a ways and inhale deeply, and then finishes his sentence. “-’cause she reckons you ain’t eating enough out here and you’re too small.”

Will tips his head back far enough to knock his own hat off and groans. He looks remarkably child-like, sometimes, with his thin frame, and his eyes very dark in his pale face, and his propensity for sitting cross-legged in the dust and watching animals. “I’m a grown man,” he says petulantly. “I’m not getting any taller, now.”

“Well,” Johnny says very reasonably, with a much less reasonable smile, “she reckons you didn’t get fed enough when you weren’t grown, and if you don’t eat it all and grow six inches it’ll all be my fault.” He frowns. “Though I’m damned if I know why.”

Will breaks off a corner of the loaf and sticks it in his mouth. “You’re tryin’ to walk out with Ma Masham’s daughter,” he points out through the mouthful.

“I am not tryin’ to walk out with Ma Masham’s daughter!” Johnny says firmly and indignantly. Will raises an eyebrow. “I’m doing a very good job of walking out with Jody Masham.” Will snorts and eyes him around another lump of bread, awaiting what Finn has taken to calling - usually with a dramatic groan - the inevitable. Jody Masham - lord, there’s a pretty girl. “She’s got eyes like starlight, does Miss Masham,” he sighs, gazing wistfully out over the prairie. “Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

Will mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like this week as he shifts to face Johnny and leans back on his palms. Johnny ignores it.

“Her hair’s softer’n anything,” he says instead, and abruptly his heart is too full; he reckons if the sun doesn’t beat some warm good sense into him he’ll clean float away; and he has to sweep his hat from his head and press it to his chest, face turned up to the light.

“Oh, good lord,” a giggling voice says from somewhere near his knee, but he pays it no mind.

“Gold like the sun and worth twice as much,” he sighs, Jody Masham’s face floating before his eye. What he wouldn’t do to hold her close, breathe her in, press his lips to hers-

Something hits his knee and his surroundings come rushing back to him abruptly. At his foot is one of Will’s gloves; Will himself is angling a particularly severe raised eyebrow his way, but he is also grinning as he squints into the sun behind Johnny. “You come all this way to moon over Jody Masham, or what?”

“What,” Johnny says, collecting himself and turning back to the bag. “You got some cheese from the Wilder ranch, and one of old man German’s good sausages, and I brought you a waterskin but I put some beer in it.” Johnny grins at Will’s expression of surprise. “So. Reckon I earned some mooning.”

“Did the whole town have a, a whip-round for me?” Will says, frowning as he reaches out for the second paper parcel Johnny hands over.

Johnny shrugs, trying to look winning and charming as he leans against the saddle and obscures the still half-full bag. “That’s just Danser hospitality, I guess.”

Will’s gaze flickers over to him suspiciously. “And, and you rode all the way out here, just to fetch me dinner?”

“Sure,” Johnny tries, and knows as soon as he’s said it he’s misstepped; he says sure like that too innocently, always has, and Will’s eyes narrow. “Also I brought you your doctor’s bag just in case-” he says, all too quickly, only getting louder when Will groans. “Might be nothin’,” he wheedles. “Just in case.”

“Do I want to know what you all are going to do?” Will asks, glaring at the leather bag which Johnny guiltily retrieves and places by Will’s very aged, much cleaned boots. “Probably not, huh.”

“Might be nothin’,” Johnny says again, but Will does not look mollified. “Just - would be nice to know you was ready, if it was something. Come on, Doc Dubya.”

Will shoots him an unimpressed look for the nickname. Most folks call him Williams, or Will, but one of the Wilder kids had reckoned Doc Dubya was easier and more fun than sounding out Mister Double-you Williams; it had half stuck, reappearing usually when someone wanted him to come out and doctor for them. “I am not a doctor,” Will says sharply, accent coming out all clipped; all north-eastern, Nova Scotia, old money-sounding, the way it always does when he’s real cross about something. Johnny winces slightly. “This,” Will says, shaking the leather case at him, “is not a doctor’s bag. It’s - it’s an anatomy kit with some old linen scraps for bandages. I’m a naturalist. I can’t - can’t fix you all when you’ve gone and done something stupid.”

Johnny spreads his hands wide and shrugs apologetically. “Ain’t no-one else can do it better,” he points out, running his first knuckle and thumb over his moustache quickly. As nervous tics go, it’s unfortunate; he can only barely pass it off as vanity when he’s playing poker with Diaz, and then only because Diaz is usually too focussed on his own poker face to mind Johnny’s.

Will gives him the stink-eye and he scrambles quickly back onto his horse, patting her dun neck when she dances under him and huffs about the sudden movement. He tries to think of something to say: something that will count as apology and gratitude and, crucially, won’t make Will Williams, the only man even nearly a doctor within a day’s ride of Danser Town, pack up his knapsack and his case and ride for the railway on the other side of the territory and its trains back to Saint John.

Nothing comes to mind.

“Good luck with your buffalo,” Johnny says, offering a hopeful smile.

He doesn’t get more than twenty yards before Will raises his voice. “What time are you all going to be done doing whatever it is I don’t know you’re doing?”

Johnny grins to himself, suffused with warmth and relief. When he twists in the saddle, Will is prodding at the dusty ground with a stick thoughtfully. His brows are downturned in a frown, but there’s a tension to his profile and Johnny reckons he’s doing that thing he does, when the young men of the town are congregated - slightly too many in a space slightly too small - all of ‘em a little drunk and a little loud and making Will more’n a little nervy, but even though he’s tense and awkward and quiet he’s smiling - only, usually with the side of his face that they can’t see. He reckons Will might have forgiven him.

He shrugs. “Nineish, maybe. You’ll get a cut of whatever we don’t earn, doing whatever it is we’re not doing.”

Will huffs in amusement and Johnny doesn’t bother counting over his negatives to figure out if what he’d said made any kind of sense, anyhow. “Alright. I, I won’t see you then.”

Johnny beams. “Will Williams, you’re the sturdiest fella I ever did see.”

And this time, even though he’s already riding away, there’s no mistaking it - “This week!” Will hollers at his retreating back.

“Lord,” Finn sighs, chin in one palm and leaning sideways over the table. “I am tired of Corey County. We must be the only territory in the state without a goddamn railway. I ain’t gonna die in some dingey backwater without even a railway.”

Will shoots him a look under his brows but says nothing, just sniffs, pushes his glasses up his nose, and goes on winding clean white linen around Finn’s bicep. Johnny tops up their whisky glasses and pushes one Finn’s way with his fingertips. “Naw, probably not,” he agrees thoughtfully. Finn cocks his head and Johnny spreads his hands in explanation. “Way I see it, you ain’t gonna die horse-rustling, even if you do do something stupid like, say, get yourself all nicely backlit by the ranch lights and then hoot and holler ‘til someone comes and shoots you-”

Will’s head snaps up. “That’s how you got shot?” he says, neither impressed nor gentle.

Finn shrugs awkwardly with only one arm, looking a little embarrassed. “Pascal and Ted were getting hassled.” That about seems to cover it, as far as Finn’s concerned; he drops his chin back into his hand and waits for Johnny to carry on, leaving Will glowering at his ginger curls.

“Alright, well, you ain’t gonna die like that,” Johnny says. “You’re gonna go out doing something truly dumb, like trying to rob a train on your own ‘cause of how you got bored, or something - stands to reason, then, that you ain’t gonna die in a backwater with no railway. You gotta go to the railway, or wait for the railway to come to you, and then you can kick it in some grand old blaze of glory.”

Finn considers this, and then grins. “Thanks, Johnny, you’re a real pal.” Will looks like he’s considering abandoning them to their idiocy; with his almost preternatural sense of when, exactly, he is likely to be denounced as lacking the sense God gave a gopher, Finn twists to beam at Will over his bandage. “Doctor, I’m cured.”

Will glances at him sharply. “Sure,” he mutters. “So long as we never get a railway, and you never go where one is, I can be sure you all will be doing something only reasonably stupid.”

“Y’all know me,” Finn says cheerfully. “Something stupid to be done, I’ll come running.” Will tucks away the end of the bandage and Finn stretches carefully, shaking his head and tidying a few loose curls out of his eyes. Not to be outdone, Johnny works the ribbon out of his own hair and tosses his head like a stallion, shaking shoulder-length, glossy blond waves so that they sparkle in the lamplight. It’s a practised gesture; what, after all, is the point in having well-oiled, lustrous hair the envy of every woman in the state if one doesn’t know how to present it? Even if only for a pair of singularly unimpressed friends.

“You’re not stupid,” Johnny says magnanimously. Must be hard, after all, to be Finn and have hair more inclined to corkscrew outward than lie flat and sleek, or to be Will and have a chin barer than kids half his age.

“No,” Will agrees dryly. “Stupid would be walking out with Jody Masham, making eyes at Peggy West, and swooning every time Anne-Marie Dodds so much as glances your way - all at once.”

Johnny’s jaw drops at this abject betrayal and he gives up on magnanimity. Will doesn’t deserve good facial hair. Finn cackles in delight. “Miss Dodds an’ all?” he laughs. “Peggy West’s best friend - Johnny, you’re gonna wind up with a hole in your head or a ring on your finger if you ain’t careful.”

He snaps his mouth shut and rises manfully above such comments. What do they know, anyway - Peggy West won’t shoot him, and with a bit of luck she’ll keep her pa from doing it either. Sure, she and Anne-Marie are pretty girls, but they’ve made his role plenty clear: he’s to court without expectation, so’s they can avoid courters with expectations. Jody knows; knows, too, about Cathy in the bigger town to the east whom he rides out to see sometimes, and they’re all content as can be. Let Will and Finn say what they like - Johnny walks out with the prettiest girls in the territory, and lord are they pretty.

“We’ve lost him,” Finn says conspiratorially.

Their hair - the clothes - they’re so delicate yet firm - he longs to feel their curves beneath his palms-

“Totally gone,” Will agrees.

Johnny sprawls over the table, chin in one hand. “Girls,” he sighs, and manages no more.

Will rolls his eyes and Finn nudges him carefully with his injured elbow. “That could be you,” he says, “if you’d only look helpless and lonely in eyesight of a lady.”

Will looks at Johnny with deep apprehension. “If it’ll do that, Johnny can keep ‘em.”

“Is there a name for it?” Johnny asks the ceiling philosophically. Ideally, they’d be out of doors and staring at the desert stars; as it is, there’s only peeling paper and discoloured rafters of which to demand explanations. It’ll do. “For wanting so badly to kiss a person, to be with them - so much you burn up with it?”

“Lust,” Will, the good little Methodist says.

“The clap,” Finn says brightly.

Johnny gives them both the stink eye and Finn laughs; Will just ducks his head in a fruitless attempt to hide his bright, broad grin. “Aw, y’all are the worst.”

It’s quiet for a minute as they drink their whisky and relax into the hard wooden seats as best they can. Will’s rooms above the saloon are not awful large, and not at all comfortable, but they don’t cost him much and no-one asks about the occasional bloodied shirt on his late-night visitors. Danser Town isn’t large enough for the general populace not to know that the band of young men with money to spend and no discernable employment are likely up to no good, but no-one asks questions and no-one tells lies and it all shakes out in the end. But - Will’s from out east, and he went to college, and his words have a touch of money about them sometimes. What’s he doing out here, watching buffalo?

Finn must be having the same thought, because he shifts awkwardly before speaking. “Say, Will, why not get some place nicer than this? Get you a ranch, or something.”

Will snorts. “What would I do with a claim? I’m no farmer. Besides, I can’t afford a whole house to myself.”

“Why not?” Finn presses. “Ain’t you one of them rich Yanks?”

Johnny winces a little at the blunt question. Will tips his head on side. “Not - really,” he says. “First - I’m Canadian. Second, all I have is here.”

“But you went to college,” Johnny finds himself saying.

“Sure,” Will says, folding his long, pale fingers into an awkward knot. His shoulders have tensed up around his ears again; Finn notices and bumps their arms carefully together. “But - my folks paid for that. And I left. So.”

It sounds kinda like Will doesn’t miss ‘em. “You ever want to go back?” Finn asks.

Will makes a face. “No. I - I like it here.”

Johnny nods, filled with some sort of strange pride and satisfaction. Will can stay, and be happy here - that suits. “I don’t,” Finn says brightly.

“Why’re you still here, then?” Johnny can’t help asking. Finn’s only been here six months or so and he’d lived in half the states west of Georgia before that; the man seems to move like his feet are on fire. So, either he’s got better at horse rustling in Danser and not been caught so fast, or it’s something else.

Finn shrugs. “Y’all won’t come with me,” he says simply, like it ain’t nothing to be so openly, overtly fond of another person. Will looks like he might fall off his chair in surprise at just hearing him say it. Finn sighs and stretches his legs out before him, crossed at the ankle. “I like moving,” he explains, “but y’all don’t. I don’t wanna stop, but I don’t want - I want to go, but I don’t want to leave.” He spreads his hands as if that ought to pretty much cover it.

“Why do you like travelling so much?” Will says after a quick slug of his drink. He looks a bit unsteady, although if that’s due to the whisky or Finn being kind Johnny couldn’t say.

Finn shrugs. “Feels sometimes like I’m looking for somewhere, you know? Somewhere I never been, but I’m gonna know it when I get there. Where it all makes some kind of sense. Is there-” Finn huffs a laugh and looks at Johnny. “Is there a word for that - sickening after a place you never seen, but you know it’s easy, like when you were a kid?”

Johnny raises his glass to him with half a smile. He’s got no joke for that.

Will blinks, tilts his head like a bird, and then opens his mouth and says something strange-sounding and smooth.

Finn and Johnny blink at him in polite incomprehension.

“My, my mother’s folks were from Ontario, but before, before that Wales,” he explains. “Hiraeth. It means - well, what you said.”

“Huh,” Finn says. Then grins. “Well, now I don’t feel half so special and one-of-a-kind.”

“Oh,” Will says, sounding apologetic, “I didn’t-”

“Lord, I hope there’s only one man like you, Finn Holden,” Johnny interrupts with a grin. “You’re already too much to handle.”

“Aw,” Finn says, slinging his wounded arm gently around Will’s narrow shoulders and squeezing gently until the tension relaxes out of him once more. “Y’all love me, don’tcha?”

Will smiles - genuine, but a little shy. Johnny feels his own face form an answering - and disgustingly fond - smile. “Send us to an early grave though it may,” he says, winking at Will and raising his glass to them all.

#[with increasing enthusiasm] cowboys cowboys cowboys #can't believe i liked a picrew so much i'm doing original fiction now #and about americans of all people!#anyway. hope u enjoy.#because i'm absurdly fond of them all so #cowboys #original fiction #this is your captain speaking #a town called danser

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Ch 6

Chapter 6: The Storm

"Please, Kai?" Lloyd clasped his hands together and begged.

"We've been through this, my answer isn't gonna change overnight," Kai explained again as he and Nya loaded the caravan with enough supplies for around a week's travel.

"Please!" Lloyd dragged out the word in a whine, flashing a wide-eyed innocent look when his big brother turned around.

"No." Kai smiled and gently petted Flame's mane. The stunning light brown colored stallion neighed. "Easy there, boy."

"Please!" Lloyd pleaded to flash his infamous pout that had even Flame whining.

"Lloyd, I grew up with you; that doesn't work on me anymore." He said calmly, causing his little jaw to hit the floor. Even Nya couldn't resist him when he pulled his stunning emerald eyes into a cute, pleading look.

"Ah, why not!" He pouted.

"Someone needs to stay and watch the shop, and since Nya's the one entering the fair's contest, she's out of the question, you're obviously too young to do it, so that leaves me." He explained smiling at Lloyd's cuteness.

"Or... or a third option, all three of us got and we can close the shop for a week." He suggested, hoping for some kind of an excuse.

"You know we can't leave the shop unattended that long, we already have at least five orders, and besides, I don't mind staying home."

"It's not fair."

"And here I thought I'd get to finally spend some time with my baby brother." Nya playfully whined mocking innocence, causing both of her brothers to snort in laughter.

"I still don't see why we can't just close the shop for a week." The youngest Smith pouted and crossed his arms.

"Because, even if Nya's newest creation wins the contest, we're still going to need some money for and after we move; unless, of course, you plan on starving, green bean," Kai explained smiling, stroking Flame's sleek, brown nose, affectionately.

"He's not going to give in, so come here and help me back," Nya told Lloyd. Groaning in defeat, he pushed himself off the side of the caravan and helped Nya load the supplies. Flame playfully rubbed his nose against Kai's neck and snorted in his hair and made the brunette laugh.

"You take good care of my little siblings, okay Flame?" Kai instructed as he turned around and nuzzled the stunning stallion. "And make sure Nya doesn't get lost again, you know how bad she is with directions." He teased.

"Hey!" Nya growled. Flame neighed in approval. "Even the damn horse is against me." She growled. Lloyd burst out laughing until she heaved him by his underarms and sat him on the driver's seat. "That's everything." She said, dusting off her hands. "We packed enough food, supplies, and medicine for at least a week, but we should be back in a couple of days; do you need anything from the fair Kai?"

"No, I'll be fine; the only thing I need to worry about is Morro and if all else fails Dr. Saunders is right down the road." He smiled. Nya smiled at her twin before climbing onto the caravan and grabbing Flame's reigns.

"We'll be back in a week." She promised.

"Bye Kai!" Lloyd exclaimed as he wormed his way to the front and waved.

"Don't get into trouble while we're gone!" Nya teased.

"I won't; good luck at the fair!" He called and waved goodbye watching Flame and the caravan trot off before disappearing down the road. "And don't get lost this time!" He shouted in a final attempt of teasing.

"Shut up!" Nya hollered, just before the caravan disappeared. That didn't stop her and Lloyd hearing Kai's laughter echoing after them...

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

"Nya?" Lloyd shivered as he wrapped himself in a blanket like a human burrito.

"Not a word," Nya growled; hard blue eyes meticulously scanned the enormous map spread in front of her. The square-shaped map was large enough that if she held it to its full length it would stretch from her waist to past her hair and spread her arms to their full length.

"Nya," Lloyd said again, annoyed.

"Lloyd..." Nya responded in a testy voice.

"We're lost!" He shouted in anger, no longer carrying about the consequences of igniting his sister's temper. The map crushed in Nya's hands as she clumped it in one hand and slammed it down next to her. Her teeth gritted in a hiss and her eyes turned to her younger brother, bright with anger. "What did I just tell you!"

"We're lost; you can't read a map, and it's pitch black!" He snapped. "If you're not going to admit it to yourself, and since Kai's not here to, I will!" He growled in frustration. Lloyd may not have been as strong-willed as his older siblings but he was more than capable of holding his own if pushed too far. Nya opened her mouth to yell and argue, but the words quickly died in her throat. The confident, know-it-all smirk on Lloyd's face made it impossible to find fault with his argument, and the proud sister hated that.

Frustrated at her bruised ego more than anything else, Nya chucked the crushed map in Lloyd's lap.

"Fine then, you navigate." She huffed and smirked at the baffled look on his face before it hardened. If that was the game she wanted to play then he was more than willing to prove her wrong.

"Any idea's Flame?" Lloyd asked as he turned to the large brown stallion. The horse shook his head. "That's alright." He smiled before flipping his legs over the side of the caravan, slipped inside, and dug through their supplies, before reemerging with a lantern. The angry, orange fire, trapped inside the glass prison, burned vigorously in the darkness. "We're heading to World Fair, right?" He asked. She nodded, looking around for any type of landmark to help identify their location.

It was hard to tell in the darkness, but the moonlight illuminated their surroundings enough that it looked like a forest.

The dark trees stood, like enormous skeletons, their decaying leaves were black and brown without the sun to illuminate them. The wind sent a shower of them into the air. The road withered into a dirt path, filled with heavy stones and overgrown with weeds, worn down by travel. He sighed in relief that he remembered to change Flame's shoes before the journey began. No sounds flooded the forest except for the cooing of an owl or the hiss of bat wings.

The skeletal hands of the trees stretched and pulled as if trying to create a net of branches above them blocking out all sun.

"Well, look at it this way, at least it can't get worse." She said humorously. No sooner had those words left her mouth, a loud crack of thunder roared across the sky in a high-pitched shriek, followed by a waterfall of water, multiple flashes of lightning streaking the night sky, and heavy black clouds overhead, with flashes of white and lemon yellow. If looks could kill, Lloyd's glare would've sent Nya straight to the pits of hell.

"You just had to ask, didn't you!?" He snarled. Lloyd's mood failed to increase as the night dragged on. Even though he'd retreated into the cavern, the rain had soaked him to the bone and he'd given up trying to rake the water from his soaked hair. "Where are we anyway!" He screeched and jumped as another streak of lightning slashed across the sky followed by the crash of thunder.

"I don't know, but we have to get out of this storm quick!" Nya yelled as loud as she could. Unfortunately, her voice was barely a whisper over the freezing wind, hissing like a banshee, the rain hammering the muddy dirt into the ground and the crashing thunder above their heads. The night had bathed the entire forest in a cloak of blackness; the only light they had available was the streaks of lighting slashing across the sky like jagged white scars.

Flame neighed and jumped in fear, as the thunder roared and increase.

Nya attempted to coax him but it did no good. The storm was savage and dangerous and the horse knew it. Lloyd screeched, as he tried to move to the front, only to be thrown back and forth as the caravan shook, due to Flame's sudden outburst. A loud burst of thunder roared to life with the force of an explosion. The sound vibrations shook the entire forest and broke that last of Flame's calmness. The horse went wild and ripped the reins from Nya's hand.

The caravan shook violently causing Lloyd to scream until he suddenly flew from the caravan, crashing to the carpet of leaves and mud.

Ignoring the horse, Nya bolted off the caravan to her brother's aid. She scooped the boy into her arms, checking him over for wounds. The icy rain hammered their skin like a thousand frozen needles. Another roar of thunder and Flame took off down the road, back the way they came, leaving the siblings alone in the storm.

"Oh no! Lloyd!" Nya called, worried for her little brother. Lloyd opened his mouth to reply but coughed wildly instead. Nya's heart skipped a beat, eyes bulging from shock and worry. She ripped off her thick, black trench coat and wrapped it around the smaller before pulling him to his feet. The coughing continued. She dragged him by the hand, willing them both not to stop. She couldn't until they at least found some form of shelter from the storm.

Rain hammered in diagonal lines, making it impossible to see.

The storm blocked out the light of the stars and moon making the forest completely black. She pulled him closer to her, hoping to give him further warmth. She stomped in the mud until her boots hit something solid. Caught by surprise, Nya looked down and found they were no longer on the mud-soaked road, but a cobbled stone path. Her eyes followed the pale silver stone until her eyes caught sight of an enormous iron-clad gate. Despite the grotesque, almost haunted appearance, she scooped Lloyd up bridal style and carried him towards the open gate.

The hinges screamed their protest as she pushed through the rusted black gate, before slamming it shut, in case any hungry beasts followed them.

The cobblestone path winded and curved towards an enormous castle. Nya's eye almost bulged out of her skull at the sight of it. It looked like it was right out of one of Kai's Gothic novels. Thirteen slim, round towers dominated the skyline of this massive castle and were connected by fortified, firm walls made of dark grey stone. Scattered thinly across the walls in a seemingly random pattern were symmetric holes for archers and artillery.

The roof was a complex jumble of black-slate cones, spires, trapezoids, and gothic styles windows with iron frames stacked on connected and linked by flying buttresses.

Pointed arches, oval and arch-shaped stain-glass windows, and arches, and different sized balconies littered the entire castle. She was sure the stained-glass windows looked beautiful in the daylight. The entrance jutted from the front of the house, carved like a giant hallway of off grey-black stones, like columns, the hallways, hazy glass windows lines with faded silver. The darkness and lightning flashing behind it only added to its haunted appearance but at that very moment, Nya didn't care.

Feeling her strength fading her, and seeing Lloyd, already unconscious and shivering, she forced her body to obey.

She could feel the strength leave her body, and she fell to her knees. Blackness danced in her vision before she collapsed to the ground. The last thing she saw or thought she saw before the darkness finally claimed her were two small creatures staggering towards them...

#The Flame and the Dragon #ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #lavashipping

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 20 - as in the midst of battle

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: toxic relationships, mild gore/fighting)

(The title of the chapter comes from “Sonnet XXV” by George Santayana)

Roman led his friends back into the forest, trying to ignore the sour feeling growing in his gut. It was high noon, and the sun filtered down through the trees in broken rays. The woods looked so different in the daytime. Almost beautiful. Despite how upset it would make them both, and the points to the contrary they’d posed, Roman still thought Patton and Logan would be safer away from the fight. Roman had learned to deal with dangerous situations with nothing but his own skills and quick thinking. Three more people, two of which that were far more vulnerable, increased the number of things he had to think about tenfold. Not to mention their plan was rather half-baked and incoherent at this point. Roman simply hoped that by the time they got to the meadow, the ideas would start coming. Ursula could show up at any moment. They had to be ready to act.

Instead of worrying endlessly, Roman simply kept running over the handful of witchtongue phrases and words Virgil had taught him just in case things got hairy. Be careful, he’d admonished. You don’t have control of your powers yet, so you can’t control how powerful each word’s going to be. It could be like setting off a bomb.

Behind him, Logan drilled Virgil about the magical properties of everyday substances, desperately trying to formulate some kind of attack strategy.

“So, rosemary enhances magic?”

“Sort of,” said Virgil, struggling to explain. “It’s more like it concentrates it in one area. Keeps it from going wrong.”

“Anything else? Something also available to us?”

Virgil stuffed his hands in his oversized pockets, thinking. Patton had his cardigan on, and even Logan wore a windbreaker. It was a little chilly, now that Roman thought about it, but he’d always run hot, even as a kid. He had his usual weapons strapped to his body, but aside from that, just a t-shirt and jeans.

“Coffee puts us to sleep,” Virgil offered.

“So that’s why you never drink it!” Patton exclaimed. “Maybe we could blow a bunch in her face?”

“It’s not a tranquilizer,” he amended. “More like melatonin. It just makes us drowsy and lethargic.”

“We’re almost there,” Roman announced, but the three others were too engrossed in their planning to take notice. He didn’t mind. Roman wasn’t much of a planner. He was a shoot-and-stab first, come-up-with-brilliant-strategies later kind of guy.

As they walked, Roman let his mind wander to Dorian. Was he sleeping? If so, where was he?

A familiar tugging sensation filled his mind, and somehow, he just knew which direction Dorian was. Southeast, about three miles. The location popped into his mind just as easily as any one of his normal thoughts. It felt similar to how he’d found the Silkweed, and that strange sensation he’d felt that night outside the forest with the—

Roman audibly gasped, stopping in his tracks. Logan bumped into him.

“Roman? What—”

“It was you!” he breathed, pointing at Virgil.

Virgil paled, immediately nervous. “What was me?”

“You were the cat that kept following me to the forest every night!”

Virgil relaxed a touch. “You’re just figuring this out now?”

“Well, I mean. Kinda. I guess I didn’t connect the two,” he said, flushing. “Whatever, let’s keep going. We’re almost there.” Roman turned around and continued plodding through the trees, trying to hide his embarrassment. He’d had full on mental breakdowns in front of that cat. He’d talked about Virgil to it. It was comforting, and really sweet, actually—but also incredibly embarrassing.

“Okay,” Logan began slowly, “back to the matter at hand, I guess. Are there any substances that have negative effects? Ones that we can use against Ursula?”

“I mean, iron’s a classic, but there isn’t much of that just lying around,” Virgil said.

“What are its properties?”

“It cancels out magic.”

Logan sighed. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Virgil. What are the constraints? The parameters?”

“Well,” Virgil said as they arrived at the meadow, “magic can’t pass through it. So, if someone was behind an iron door, or in an iron cage, no magic could get in or out. In the Witchlands, they use iron cuffs to bind prisoners.”

“And what of iron in a powder form? What if a person were to become covered in it?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen it before. I guess it could cancel out their powers, but it wouldn’t be as concentrated as solid metal. My guess is it’ll simply destroy any control over their spells, or decrease their power.”

They stopped in the middle of the clearing.

“Fantastic,” Logan muttered to himself, staring at the ground, lost in thought.

“Where are we supposed to get iron powder?” Patton asked.

Logan squatted down, pressing his fingers into the dirt. “Right here. Virgil, do you know of any spells that could draw iron from the ground?”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” he said with that same smile that crossed his face anytime the mention of performing magic was made.

“Now, be careful,” Logan warned. “Iron is a necessary nutrient for plant life.”

“Don’t kill the forest. Got it.”

Roman watched as Virgil knelt down, pulling the talisman from his jacket pocket and placing a hand on the ground. He opened his mouth, then stopped, eyebrows knitting together.

“What rhymes with stone?”

Logan brightened. “Tone, sloan, own, bone, zone—tome and roam are slant rhymes, but I’m sure they’ll work.”

“Disown,” Roman said. Atone was also in there, but he refrained from offering that one.

“Shown? Or known?” Patton chimed in.

“That’ll work,” Virgil said, and returned his attention to the ground. “Seek and find the hidden stone, bring it hence and make it known.”

The ground shuddered and beneath Virgil’s palm sprouted a pile of iron flecks, and a few larger pebbles.

“Jahsti,” he said softly, that strange tone to his voice that made Roman’s heart race and fingers tingle. Logan flinched ever so slightly. The iron seemed to vibrate, and soon all the flecks and pebbles were reduced to a fine powder. There was only enough for a fistful, maybe less.

“Wonderful,” Logan said, gathering the substance up in his hand.

“So, what’s the plan?” Roman asked, unconsciously scanning the treeline. “We somehow get close enough to her to chuck the stuff in her face?”

“That’s a rather simplistic way of putting it, but yes,” Logan said. He had that look in his eye. The one that betrayed a million calculations and ideas finally coming together.

A rare grin stretched across his face. “Patton, how fast can you run?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Dorian lay on the top of a sheer cliff, bathing in the sunlight. Winter was approaching. He shuddered at the thought. Sure, he didn’t need to be warm to live—just like he didn’t need to sleep, or eat, or breathe—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t able to enjoy one and hate another. The cold reminded him of his time in the dungeons.

In his periphery, he could sense the little prince and his friends a few miles northwest of him. Perhaps they planned on confronting the Dragon Witch today? Dorian reveled in the fact that he couldn’t care less. Either they took care of his problem, or he got to kill Ursula and the little prince.

Who he hadn’t become fond of in the least.

Obviously.

Under normal circumstances, Dorian wouldn’t have been so out in the open, let alone sunbathing atop a clifftop, letting his scales shine like beacons. Again, it felt good to have no worries.

And yet, the little prince’s presence kept nagging at the back of his mind. What was their plan? How could they hope to defeat such a power with the prince so oblivious to his own? They had no chance, really. It was bound to end in disaster, and they’d no doubt come crawling to him for assistance.

Which he wouldn’t offer. Under any circumstance.

This is ridiculous, Dorian thought, and in a snap of brilliant golden light, returned to his human form. He needed to clear his head.`

* * * * * * * * * *

Dorian stood at the treeline. Now that the curse was broken, he, too, should be able to leave the premises of the forest. Something that surely wasn’t fear curdled in the pit of his stomach. He’d never approached a human settlement before. Even while hunting Ursula all those centuries, he’d avoided the places as well he could.

Steeling himself, Dorian stepped into the yellow-grass field separating the township from the forest. He would have expected some sort of reaction, even a tingle up his spine, but of course nothing did. He trudged through the field and slipped between two houses. The street was lined with residencies and nothing else. The town square must be around here somewhere, he reasoned, and stepped out into the middle of the road. It was hard, like stone, but blackened and smelly, as if a dragon had scorched it with its breath.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Dorian strode down the middle of the street. Small humans—even smaller than the little prince—rode past on strange two-wheeled contraptions, staring at him with open mouths. While Dorian knew that magicless mortals such as these could not see the scales marring the left side of his face, he wondered if they saw some other kind of deformation more familiar to them. A burn, perhaps?

They continued away from him, stopping behind one of the large metal machines that littered the sides of the street and peeking out at him. Dorian continued down the road, twitching his finger in the direction of the machine. A blaring alarm rang out and various white, yellow, and red lights began flashing. The children yelped in fright and scampered away. Dorian contained a smile.

One of the large machines was moving toward him rapidly. A similar alarm blared at him and the woman inside made a gesture with her middle finger as she gradually slowed down. Dorian cocked his head to the side, and the machine’s engine made an awful cranking sound, black smoke billowing up from the front end. Another jerk of his head, and the entire contraption slid to the side of the road, out of his way.

This might be fun.

* * * * * * * * * *

“VIRGIL!” a voice screeched in the distance, ringing like an ornery bird call through the trees. Roman froze, a chill shooting down his neck. He cast a glance Virgil’s direction. He looked paler than normal, and clutched his talisman so tightly, he would have killed it, had it been alive.

Roman knew where Logan and Patton were simply because they’d planned it, but he couldn’t resist using his newfound ability to be absolutely sure. Patton was thirty feet east of him and Virgil. Logan was even farther east. One hundred and twenty-seven feet, to be exact.

“Where are you, cat?!” Ursula screamed in frustration. Roman refrained from using his ability on the witch, just in case he ended up giving their location away. From where they crouched in the bushes, she sounded only a couple hundred feet up the slope of the mountain.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Virgil muttered.

“What?”

“She should know exactly where I am. I’m her familiar,” he said. “I don’t know why she can’t find me.”

“Well, whatever the reason, let’s count ourselves lucky,” Roman said. Though, for their plan to work, they needed Ursula to find them. Reaching into the bush, Roman grabbed one of the branches and snapped it. This needed to seem unintentional.

Sure enough, the witch began stomping down the hill toward them. Her hair was silvery as Roman remembered, though she wore pants, tennis shoes, and a streamlined running jacket. She almost looked like a normal human.

Her eyes scanned the trees. She still seemed unable to pinpoint their exact location.

“I can sense you, kitty,” she muttered.

Before Virgil could make his mind up to bolt in the other direction, Roman grabbed his arm and stood up out of the bush, pulling Virgil up with him.

“We’re right here, Ursula.”

Her eyes snapped to him, then to Virgil. Roman could feel him shaking beneath his jacket. The witch smiled and lifted her hands in a gesture of goodwill.

“I’m not here for you, princey. Virgil’s been misbehaving recently, and I think it’s time he got a reminder who’s in charge around here.”

“You’re not going anywhere near him,” Roman said, unsheathing his sword.

Ursula cocked an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to save that for the demon? Be a shame to tire yourself out before the curse even starts.”

“Leave us alone. You have no business here.”

The witch’s expression darkened. “Where are the rest of your friends, kitty? Didn’t want to join the party?”

On cue, Patton wandered out of his hiding place, calling, “Roman? Virgil? Come on guys, where are you? Logan’s worried sick!”

Roman let out a curse, and a smile stretched across Ursula’s face.

“Patton! Get out of here!” he shouted. Patton’s head snapped in their direction.

“No,” Ursula crooned. “Why don’t you come over here, dear?” She curled a finger towards herself and muttered, “Nohmai.”

Patton jerked forward, as if drawn by a string sprouting from the middle of his chest. Roman’s breath caught. Just like his curse. Patton’s feet skidded across the forest floor as he was drawn toward the witch, his face one of fear and confusion.

Virgil nudged him. Roman started, remembering the plan.

“Baesta!” he cried, concentrating as well he could on the invisible connection between the two of them. Power surged out of him with the strangest sensation Roman had ever felt. It was like blood flowing back into a limb that had fallen asleep.

A deep groove tore into the ground and branches were shorn from trees as some invisible force barreled out of him. The furrow separated Patton and Ursula, and he stumbled to a stop a few paces from her. The witch looked at Roman, astounded.

“You’ve discovered your powers.”

“Patton, run!” Roman barked.

Responding faster than he probably should have, Patton turned on his heel and sprinted in the direction he’d come.

Almost as if he’d expected it.

She’s going to try to use him as leverage, Logan had explained. She’ll see him as the weakest member and since she can’t kill or harm Roman and risk him dying, she’ll try to threaten Patton’s life in exchange for Virgil. As long as you and Virgil can keep her from using magic to capture Patton, the plan will work smoothly.

The chase began without preamble. Ursula dashed after Patton with far more speed than a woman of her age should have been able. Roman and Virgil sprinted after them.

Roman was pleased to find that Patton wasn’t just a good runner; he was shockingly fast. His feet beat the ground in a quick pace, his strides long and loping, yet he swerved around trees and over logs with ease. He was easily faster than Ursula and Roman, and could probably keep up with Virgil in cat form.

They were fast approaching Logan’s hiding place. Thankfully, due to his total lack of magical ability, Virgil had said it would be near impossible for her to sense Logan’s presence.

Don’t let any of it touch you or Virgil, Logan had warned. We want to disable her powers, not all of yours.

Ten more feet.

Ursula growled in frustration, snarling, “Eirholme,” and rising into the air.

Five feet.

She picked up speed, her outstretched hand just centimeters from the collar of Patton’s cardigan.

Roman and Virgil swerved out from behind her just in time to avoid the plume of iron powder Logan flung directly into Ursula’s face as she passed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dorian stood outside the small, two-story house, nose crinkled in disgust. He’d abandoned his quest to find the center of the village when he’d caught the unmistakable stench of magic.

The house was ripe with it. It was bound to happen, given that the last heir to the Witch’s Inheritance, a sybil, and the world’s most powerful witch’s familiar were all living in the same vicinity. He figured they were simply lucky they hadn’t attracted more attention.

Most likely, it was his own scent that had kept any stray magical creatures wandering the outside world at bay. He smelled of death, and he knew it.

Not at all curious, but simply wanting to get out of the public eye for a while—at least until people stopped getting all agitated about thier machines acting up—Dorian stepped up the front porch steps. The door was locked. A simple touch, and the door opened for him.

The odor was even worse inside. Dorian couldn’t fathom how the familiar had stood it all these years. Then again, Dorian used to live in the Witchlands. That scent had once been the smell of home.

He hadn’t sensed such an aroma in hundreds of years.

The house itself was quaint, with a relatively open kitchen and living space. Dorian found a carpeted staircase tucked against a wall and wandered up it. The smell grew stronger.

Four rooms, a bathroom, and a linen closet. He could tell which was the little prince’s without having to open the door, despite it hanging open, revealing a mess of clutter and clothes. He’d grown used to the boy’s particular odor by now. The familiar’s simply smelled like the Witchlands. The third had no particular scent whatsoever. Peeking inside, Dorian found the room studiously neat and well kept. Boring.

What he was most interested in, actually, was the sybil’s room. The child had come out of nowhere, with significantly more power than any other sybil Dorian had come across while in the Queen’s court.

He ran a finger across the door handle and sniffed it. Nothing too suspicious. Easing the door open, he stepped inside. The room was… warm. Homey, if Dorian had to put a word to it. Not much in the way of possessions, unlike the little prince.

Dorian sniffed.

Something was off. The room smelled of the prediction magic typical of everyday sybils, but there was something else. An undertone he hadn’t sensed since his days in the Queen’s dungeons.

Something… prophetic. Divine, even.

A loud thud from downstairs pulled Dorian from his thoughts. Eyes narrowing, he exited the room and slipped silently down the stairs.

The thudding continued. Dorian ambled curiously down the hallway it originated from. Being as powerful as he was, he didn’t have much to worry about in the way of danger.

Turning the corner, he was surprised to find a door, sealed shut with a glowing, violet sigil. The thudding turned to scrabbling at the edges of the door, trying for purchase on any one of the hinges or edges.

The mark of Avalian, Dorian mused to himself, running a finger across the sigil. It sparked and smoked at his touch.

“What are you hiding?” he muttered, pressing his palm into the wood of the door. Dorian slowly wiped his hand across the mark, wincing ever so slightly as it scorched the skin of his hand in protest. Despite the spell’s noble efforts, however, it eventually gave up and dissipated.

The door swung open.

“…swear I’ll stuff a pixie up that cat’s nose and tie his tail to a—”

Dorian’s mouth ticked up into a smile. “Hello, there.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Ursula screamed and fell to the ground, rolling several times. Whatever magic that kept her flying stopped. Patton jogged to a stop a few feet away. Logan leaped out of the bush, breathless with excitement.

“It worked!”

Roman rushed forward, brandishing his blade. Ursula wiped her face furiously with her hands.

“What did you do?!” she wailed, tears from her bloodshot eyes streaking down her face. She coughed. “Iron?!”

“That’s right,” Roman said, pointing his sword at her chest. “Don’t move.”

“Or what?” she said, spitting iron-tainted saliva out onto the ground. “You’ll kill me? We both know you can’t—aaah!” Ursula cried as he drew his blade across her thigh.

“You don’t know what I will or won’t do, witch,” he growled. “I’ve promised a very powerful demon that I’d kill you in exchange for my freedom. Seems like a tempting offer.”

“You brat. No wonder Virgil’s been acting up.”

“He’s not your property,” Logan said, brushing the remaining iron dust off his hands. Patton came to stand next to him. Ursula eyed them both.

“You stupid mortals would never understand. The kind of bond between a witch and their familiar is for life. There’s no going back.”

“He’s done pretty well without you, so far,” Roman countered. “Besides, you’re powerless now. You’re not exactly threatening.”

“Well,” she said with a smile. “I think the little prince needs to be taught a lesson, don’t you, kitty?”

“Roman, do it,” Virgil said hastily.

“What?”

“Kill her! Now! Before—”

“Dokuah Kulong,” Ursula rasped, gesturing toward Logan and Patton.

Roman’s heart dropped to his feet. One second, his friends were standing there, looks of surprise and confusion on their faces, and the next, they were just gone. As if they’d never been there. The world seemed to tilt around Roman, and he couldn’t think straight. She hadn’t… they couldn’t be… could they?

A wounded cry tore from Virgil’s throat.

Ursula was on her feet in seconds, disarming Roman, shoving him to the ground, and throwing his sword into the trees.

“Pounu!” she cried. To their right, several gallons worth of water appeared out of nowhere, sloshing over the ground and soaking Roman’s clothes. She growled in frustration and started for the water, desperately scrubbing mud over her skin, trying to rid herself of the iron powder. She’d obviously meant for it to appear right over her, but the iron was apparently doing its job.

“Makoaste duu fahrnistahll,” Virgil rumbled, his arms raised chest-level, the tendons on the back of his hands pulling taut as his fingers contorted. Tears streaked his cheeks, and his eyes held a fury that made even Roman’s stomach clench.

The world around them seemed to glitch, nothing staying in one place. The ground undulated and grew soft, Roman having to grab hold of the nearest tree to keep from sinking into it. The dirt around Ursula’s feet sunk in on itself, like someone had pulled an enormous drain deep below the ground. An absolutely terrifying noise emanated from the sucking earth. A low, bone-rattling note, like the earth itself were groaning.

Roman, it seemed, was already weak from the one word he’d uttered, and found it difficult to keep a grip on the tree. He was buried up to his waist, the ground pulling at his ankles like quicksand. Hopefully, Virgil wasn’t so enthralled in his fight he ended up pulling Roman into it as well.

Ursula was covered nearly head-to-toe in mud. Preoccupied with trying not to be buried alive, she paid Roman little attention.

“Eirholme!” Ursula rose into the air, the angry black dirt following her, tugging at her feet. She raised a muddy hand and screamed, “Kazhta!”

Virgil gasped, collapsing to the ground. The dirt immediately fell slack, jittering and twitching as Virgil thrashed and screamed on the ground, grabbing at his back.

“Virgil!” Roman cried, trying desperately to free the lower half of his body from the dirt. It was no use. His sword was somewhere lost in the trees. He tried to locate it, but he was too frazzled. He couldn’t concentrate.

Virgil tore his jacket off, revealing countless shallow gashes torn up and down his arms. His back was criss-crossed by them as well, soaking his black shirt crimson. More appeared every second. If it went on much longer, he’d be cut to ribbons.

Ursula approached Virgil, her feet alighting on the ground like she was an apparition.

Roman fought back tears of fear and frustration as he tried to pull himself out of the earth with the hold he had on a low branch. The limb snapped.

“Remember this, kitty,” Ursula crooned, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder. She looked over at Roman, favoring the leg he’d injured.

“You both belong to me.”

And with that, she muttered a quick, “Dokuah Cairo,” and disappeared without a trace.

#tw toxic relationship #toxic relationship tw #toxic relationship #tw fighting #fighting tw #fighting #mild gore #mild violence #violence #blood

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touchingoldmagic · 4 years

Text

Day 12 - Epic Moment

Day 12 of the 30 Day Ghostbusters Challenge!

Author’s Notes: In the spirit of IDW adapting some ghosts from The Real Ghostbusters into their storylines, I couldn't miss the chance to include a dragon in the comic'verse.

"Well there's something you don't see every day."

Peter slowly drew his thrower as the shadow of the large green dragon passed right over their heads. If their arrival in Ecto hadn't alerted it to their presence, probably no other sudden movements would, but he didn't particularly want to take the chance.

"Wow!" Ray said, head craned back to look. "It's gotta be at least twenty feet long!"

"Closer to twenty-five," Egon opined, likewise pulling his thrower.

All four men watched the reptilian creature warily, but it only continued its slow circle above them. Even from a distance its large yellow eyes were visible, but the elevation made it hard to tell if it was watching them or not.

The Ghostbusters had arrived at a construction site in the picturesque Massachusetts countryside. The road curved steeply up around the hillside, a guardrail the only thing between the road and a steep drop down to the valley below. At the top of the hill a home was being built. Currently only the foundation had been laid, outlining what would eventually be a very large manor.

"So someone was building a house and the local fire-breather took offense?" Peter wondered drolly.

Winston shot him a look. "Man, we went over it on the drive up, you'd know if you didn't fall asleep."

Peter shrugged, unconcerned. "It was a long drive."

"The construction workers unearthed what they claim looks like ancient pottery," Ray explained. "Inevitably they broke it when they were trying to clear it out, and once that happened, the dragon and multiple other entities appeared and construction was halted. They said they put it all--oh, over there, I'll bet." He spotted a pile of pale debris under a tree on the edge of the property. Egon was already heading in that direction, PKE meter out.

As if it were a choreographed act, as soon as the two scientists approached the pile, at least a dozen vapor-like ghosts burst from the trees and descended toward them together.

Two proton streams shot out from Winston and Peter, who were used to hanging back and providing cover fire for their science-minded teammates, but the spirits were agile as silk ribbons (and fairly resembled them as well). They curled and dodged around the proton streams, scattering through the air.

"Aren't they usually a little more groggy when they just wake up?" Winston grumbled.

"Took us a couple hours to drive out here," Ray called back. "They must be quick learners."

"Great," sighed Winston.

The swam of ghosts were all similar in appearance. Very elongated, thin and flat like streamers, mostly sickly pink or green or yellow in color. Like banners they floated and waved in the breeze, but they had definitely identified the Ghostbusters as a threat and were arranging themselves to dive down again.

"Here they come!" Winston barked out in warning. Ray had pulled his thrower to help provide cover. Egon, kneeling at the base of the tree, ignored all of them in favor of studying what he found there.

Peter spared a glance away from the swarm, keeping an eye on the dragon to see if all the sudden action had spurred it to change its pattern. It was still circling; maybe it had gotten a little closer, it was hard to tell.

Taking advantage of his distraction, one of the spirits swooped down and slammed into the psychologist. It knocked him off balance and then, apparently inspired by the action, picked him up in a surprising show of strength and chucked him straight at the guardrail on the side of the road.

It all happened too fast for the Ghostbusters to react. In the time it took to gather breath to shout, Peter was over the edge and gone from view.

Ray's mind froze in horror. He didn't remember moving, but suddenly he was there at the edge of the road, clutching the metal railing and calling Peter's name. Winston stood beside him, and the pounding footsteps of Egon were coming up behind him.

Then a strong rush of wind caused all three to shield their faces, and a shadow blotted out the afternoon sun.

When Ray could see again he immediately looked upward, following the feel of the wind as it had rushed by. The dragon was climbing higher skyward, wings pumping steadily, and Peter clung to the stiff ridges that ran along its spine between its shoulders.

"Oh good, he's... riding the dragon." Winston's deadpan voice might have wobbled a little at the end.

Ray whooped in relief, both hands in triumphant fists over his head. "Go, Venkman!"

"Get me down from here, brainiac!" Peter screamed back at him.

Egon had reached them at the guardrail by the time the dragon made a graceful arch in the air and glided down toward them, wings extended. It looked like a paper airplane coming in to land. A twenty-five foot paper airplane.

"Hey, looks like he's on our side," Ray said with a grin.

"Or maybe he tried to make Pete a snack and just has really bad aim," Winston pointed out. "What happened to the ghosts?"

"They retreated when we vacated the immediate area they’ve claimed," Egon said, indicating the trees behind them with the hand still holding his PKE meter. The other hand held the largest shard of pottery he had been able to reclaim from the pile. "I believe this explains it. These are the Roman characters for Genius Loci, a benevolent spirit usually bound to a certain place to protect it. The soil I found inside the pottery was most likely from the location the Loci had been protecting. I believe the dragon spirit was purposely bound to the artifacts to help guard against the release of the more aggressive ghosts, and all were set free when they were broken."

In the time it took for Egon to give his conclusion, the dragon had landed. The wind it stirred up was considerable. Not as bad as a helicopter, but Egon had to raise his voice to be heard clearly, and all three of them held up a hand to shield their eyes.

Despite its great size, the dragon pulled in its wings and landed in the road beside Ecto with a dainty little dip, displaying its grace even in the way it curled its tail to avoid striking their vehicle. Peter was still perched on its tall back, clinging to its dark green spines in a death grip. His boots were several feet above the heads of his teammates.

"Hey Pete, Elliot giving you any trouble?" Winston asked innocently.

"Better be respectful, Winston. He could set you on fire." Peter eyed the ground, debating if he could jump down from the creature's back without twisting an ankle. He wanted both feet back on solid ground, immediately or sooner.

Apparently the intelligence of the dragon was enough that it understood the issue. Before Peter could make a move to disembark, its pointed teeth gently closed on the top of Peter's pack and it lifted him down to the ground.

Taken by surprise, Peter squawked with hands flailing, until his boots touched the ground. Then he coughed and tried to reclaim his dignity. The dragon released him and drew its head back, neck arched like a jade-green swan.

"Huh. Yeah, thanks, Smaug." Peter craned his neck to check his pack for monster teeth-sized punctures, then made a face. Dragon slobber smelled just as bad as slime.

"But Peter,” Ray said, “he's completely the wrong color for Smaug."

Peter gave Ray a look.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters comics #ghostbusters idw #idw comics #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #egon spengler #genius loci #dragon #ghostbusters 30 day challenge

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druidx · 4 years

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A Bad Start

Context: I’ve finally got around to watching Star Wars: Rebels, about a year and a half after it was recommended viewing for the SW RPG I was playing at the time. And it got me thinking about the character I played, Cookie, and how I’d never really committed anything about her to “paper”. So, as an attempt to cure my writing blockage, I thought I’d write a short fic about the incident that forced her and her definitely-not-a-Jedi Master Darruhl Kain (played by a friend) joined the crew of the Soaring Saladin. If there’s interest, I might write more about her. She was fun to play. Warnings: Threat of fantasy violence, allusions to drug-taking and alcohol imbibing, wanted persons

It started like any other day. Pela slunk through the streets of Eedu, between grand buildings dilapidated by the constant mists, besides those who used the Force to hide their true selves. She took twisting turns through the close-knit streets, sweeping around puddles in the broken road and over rampant vines, her head down and face covered over by the dun headscarf. Tiny, unremarkable Pela, in her scrappy, piecemeal clothes. A pale, pathetic human on a planet of strong and fine-boned Dathomirir.

Finally out of that ever-present mist, turning to fire in the setting sun, rose her target – a rusting metal dome from which spilt laughter and music. Folk left the place, swaying under the influence of drink or drugs. Some made their way back to the spaceport, hidden behind warnings and fences. Others, often in the company of others, drifted into the main streets of Eedu. Pela watched them all from the shade of a tree, dark eyes flicking over each person, feeling the whorls and eddies of Force that flowed through the area, as her Master had taught. The biggest pull was from inside the rusted cantina, so on she went, moving like a wraith – pale and sickly on light feet. Inside, the cantina was dim. Pela pulled off her gloves, stuffing them into her bag. The pulse of the music was strong, a heavy beat that pushed at her skin. She stilled and centred herself, letting the beat slide past her, like a heartbeat, smelling the incense and the unwashed bodies of a dozen different species and cultures. She walked forward, gliding through the crowds. A touch on an elbow. Ghosting over a neck. The caress of a lekku. Each opened a new world to her, seen through the eyes of those she graced. This one was shipping power cells. She tucked the information away – it might be handy later. That one was meeting a mistress. Less useful, but maybe someone would pay for the information. Still, there was that pull of the Force... Tricky to nail down, it wafted like an exotic spice – muted burgundy against the wash of muddy blue, moss-green and umber – calling, whispering to her. Pela wound her way through the crowds, eager to follow the pull. It led her towards a booth at the centre of the cantina, wherein sat a tall figure, enveloped in coarse black robes. They must have something of great worth, she thought, padding up. The wraith let her hand drop, intending only to trail her fingers over the back of a wrist. The moment she did so, there was the snap of a static discharge. Pela's eyes widened. That wasn't supposed to happen... The figure pulled away, looking up at the terrified girl. Red eyes met hazel. Pela's mind rang with unknown words; a sensation of something new and fully formed existing where it shouldn't, crowding her mind. Before he could shout, Pela was off, barging through the crowd to the cantina's exit. Her breath came in spurts, her heart hammering louder, faster than the music. Her head whirled, trying to make sense of what happened, of the fact she'd stolen a full memory, that she'd stolen from someone important. A call rang out behind her. The wraith whimpered. He was coming for her.

"Master!" Pela cried, slamming the door closed behind her. "Ah, there you are," said a tall Zabrack, walking into the living area from the kitchen, "Ishtar called by to ask how you were getting on with their shield oscillator-" "Master, we have a problem. We have to leave. Now!" She raced past the confused Zabrack, into the kitchen, pulling out packets of dry food and cramming them into her pack. "Pela?" he said. When she didn't respond, he marched over, gripping her shoulders and twisting her around. "Pela! What happened?" "Oh! Master! There's a man. He's coming for me. I stole something, with the Force, I didn't mean to! It just happened, it jumped from his mind, and now he's following me, I know he is and he's going-" "Slow down! Slowly now, what happened?" "Master Darruhl, please. We don't have time-" Pela paled further as a heavy banging sounded on the door to their tiny apartment. Darruhl glanced at the door and back to his student. "Yes, I sense it too," he said to the unspoken question in her eyes. The banging came again. "Quickly now, girl." The Zabrack pushed Pela towards the kitchen's large window. "Get to the roof, and be calm, as I have taught you. Once I've rid us of this person, we'll leave. Now, go! Go!" Pela slipped through the window and out onto the ledge. She crouched a little, then pushed up, using the Force to propel herself to the next ledge and the next, landing with little grace on the roof of the building.

Satisfied his student was safe, Darruhl pulled off his trousers, wrapping the outer robes of grey around himself as though hurriedly pulled on, before answering the door. "Yes, yes," he snapped, looking up at the large black droid on his doorstep. "What is it? I was sleeping, you know." "Apologies for disturbing you sir," said the guard droid. "Are you Darruhl Kain?" "And if I am?" the Master asked. "Do you associate with one 'Cookie' Crom? First name unknown." Darruhl shook his head, wishing the guard hadn't been a droid. People were so much easier to manipulate. "No, I don't know anyone of that name," he told the droid, trying to keep his heart-rate under control. "Then perhaps you have seen this person? She was observed entering this housing block." The droid brought up a holovid of a waif, all narrow gangly limbs, with her head and part of her face obscured by a dark scarf. Again, Darruhl shook his head. "Can't say that I have. Though that picture isn't much to go by. What've they done, anyway?" "This person is accused of stealing something very valuable from one of Dathomir's guests in the spaceport." "Well, I can't help you," Darruhl said. "I suggest you cease lying," came a new voice from behind the droid. The security droid looked over his shoulder. "Sir, I agreed to your accompaniment as a gesture of goodwill," the droid said. "I detect no irregularities with this gentleman's answers. I request you leave the police-work to me." "I have elected to ignore your request," said the new voice. The droid was forced to the side by some unseen hand, it's metal feet squealing on the concrete passageway. It voiced some complaint, but Darruhl had stopped paying it any attention. A figure, swathed in black robes stepped into the doorway, forcing the Zabrack back a few steps. Darruhl sniffed the air. A Sith. Of all the people his student could have tanged with, it had to be a Sith... "I know she's here," said the sith, his voice cold and smooth as ice. "Hand her over. I want back what she stole." "I don't know what you're talking about," Darruhl said, his hand going to the lightsaber at his belt. "It's just me here. I suggest you leave on your own or I will throw you out." The sith had been reaching for his weapon, but now paused, his eyes flicking around the apartment. He looked back at the Zabrack. "Perhaps she has indeed departed, but she was here. Make no mistake, Darruhl Kain: I will find my thief, and will take back what she has stolen, with all the Force at my disposal." With that the sith turned in a dramatic billow of robes, stalking out of the apartment. Darruhl watched him retreat down the corridor before closing the door. A sith. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. Why, by the Force, did it have to be a Sith? He walked back to the kitchen, activating his comlink. This was no longer a simple case of moving a few cities over... "Pela?" he called through the 'link. "Yes, Master?" came her timid reply. "Get back in here. We need to pack."

~*~*~ "Do you really think this will work, Master?" Pela asked as the two stood near a star freighter, waiting for the ship's captain to appear. Night had truly fallen now, the warm mist leaving dew on Pela's shoulders. It muffled and obscured everything around them, the lights of the spaceport creating pearly spears of light that illuminated nothing and everything. "Yes, my student, I do." The older man stood tall, confidence radiating from him, as Pela tried not to huddle at his side. She cast furtive glances into the night, seeing with more than her eyes, as her Force Master continued, trying to allay her fears. "Once spaceborne, we will be constantly on the move, never spending more than a few days on each planet or station. It is a big galaxy out there, my dear. Only the best bounty hunters would ever hope to catch up with us. I doubt very much that this Sith has skill nor patience to track us down." "Track me, Master," the human said, her tone unhappy. "Perhaps it would be best-" Darruhl turned, gripping his student by her frail shoulders. "Pela, I may be many things, but an apostate is not one of them. I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Do not suggest such a thing again!" Pela sunk into herself, averting her gaze. "No, Master. Of course not. I apologise." Darruhl let out a pained sigh. He'd long since given up on trying to convince his student she need not cower or apologise to him. Instead, the Zabrack chucked her chin, then rested his forehead carefully against hers, mindful on his horns. "Trust in the force, my student," he said. "Let it guide you, let it be your strength. Remember who we are." He began chanting, his voice lilting in the cadence of one who has spoken the words many times before. Pela joined in, her voice tremulous at first but swelling with quiet confidence, "I am the dividing line. I am the place where two halves meet. In my left hand, I wield the darkness; in my right hand, I wield the light. The Force is my center, and I am the center of the Force. The sword I wield is grey, the line between the light side and the dark. On its edge, I hang the needs of the Force. For I am the balance, the symmetry, and the harmony. I am the Grey." They drew away from each other then and Pela felt her Master's Force presence surround her, as warm as any hug. "Thank you, Master," she murmured, sending her own back. Beside them came the clanks and hisses of the freighter's ramp lowering. Darruhl flicked his robes free of his sabre handle, as Pela moved behind him, facing into the shimmering spaceport. "Greetings, sir," Darruhl said as a Bothan descended the ramp. "I presume you are Captain Manosh Fay-Laoy?" "Good evening to you," said the Bothan, as a blue Mon Calamari waddled down the ramp behind him and crossed her arms. "Please, call me Manny. I assume you are Darruhl Kain, the one who contacted me about leaving this delightful planet?" he added, derision heavy on the word 'delightful'. "I am, indeed. Have you considered my proposal then?" Darruhl asked. Behind the Mon Calamari appeared a T8 unit and a Trandoshan. Darruhl squinted at the Trandoshan. There was something off about the man, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it... "I have," said Manny, twisting the hair on his chin in thought. "I believe it will be an equitable exchange." He gestured to the Trandoshan, "Visq here could use some back-up, and I know I'd feel safer having another fighter aboard. I'm sure Nindan and T8 wouldn't mind help to keep the Soaring Saladin flying, either." The T8 unit trundled down next to the Mon Calamari and gave a couple of sharp, descending blips. The Mon Calamari, Nindan, nictitated her eyes. "He says he hopes your mechanic is as good as you claim because the Saladin needs a great deal of help staying in the sky." She glanced around. "Where are they?" "There is not a machine out there that she cannot coax into behaving," Darruhl said. "Isn't that right my dear?" The Zabrack stepped aside, and Pela turned. "I, ah," she stammered, flicking worried eyes at her master. He raised an eyebrow. "Now is not the time to be modest." The human ducked her head. "Yes Master," she said, her voice chary. Pela turned to Nindan, the human keeping her eyes downcast, twisting her fingers. "If... if it please you, Mem, my Master is correct. I have not yet met a mechanism that didn't respond to my assistance." Nindan narrowed her eyes and glanced down at the astromech. It gave a short ascending beep, followed by a longer descending one. It chattered a moment longer before Nindan nodded to it. The astromech trundled down the ramp and over to Pela, blooping at her demandingly. Pela took a step backwards, her eyes wide and wild. Darruhl put a hand on her shoulder. "I think our little friend here would like a demonstration," he said. "Oh." Pela crouched down. "My apologies Messer T8. Let me run a diagnostic." From her pack, the girl pulled a tool roll. She took a few deep breaths, her eyes closed, and ran a hand over the droid. T8 blipped and turned, trying to follow her hand, but she clamped her other on his top. "Please don't move." After a long moment, she opened her eyes. "Poor baby," she said, voice filled with pity. "You really need an oil bath. But here," she flipped open his front casing, fiddling with the droid's innards for a moment. "That should help stabilize your AGP array until I can look at it properly, and I think I've mended that loose through-flow – your thrusters should be a little more even in power-output now." Pela closed up the front panel and patted T8. "Feel a bit better now, sweetie?" she asked. The astromech buzzed and whirred a moment, then let out a bleep that sounded a lot like 'Yippee!'. T8 dashed over to Nindan, jabbering at her. The Mon Calamari cocked her head as she listened, then turned to her Captain. Nindan gave a burbling chuckle. "He's asking if we can keep her," she translated to the Bothan. Manny nodded, turning back to Darruhl. The Bothan grinned. "If your mechanic has T8's approval, then she has mine. Welcome aboard, Mr Kaine," Manny said, ushering the Zabrack and his human companion aboard the freighter.

#star wars #original characters #grey jedi #wandering words

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maikatc · 4 years

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Black Sun Tale | A Child

we’re back baby !! and better than ever since boy does part two have a l o t. i was able to finish majority of the section during my hiatus and i hope you all love/feel so much pain in these events as much as i do!

remember this is only a first draft with only minor edits, but with that, enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated

This isn’t gonna end well. The thought repeated itself over and over as Oliver scraped a pencil against his paper.

Birds chirped against the window. Their singing reached directly to his ears, and the office desk he worked on laid besides the porch’s side window. The sole reason being that his mother could gaze at the outside view to distract herself from paperwork, on purpose that is.

The boy’s focus on his words didn’t bother to fix up the curtains, afternoon sun shining against his pale eyes. His sight burned though stomach pains numbed his entire body to even notice.

A broken pocket-watch ticked at the side, breaking silence along with the birds. The out of time tune still held no bother to him.

The essay he wrote was… choppy, to say the least. Though, considering the class and grade he held, a childish essay would be an A in the gradebook.

He swapped through previous drafts and desktop computer facing him. The paper was almost done in his eyes.

He mumbled as he typed, “That’s why the cotton chine was just as important as anything else during the old ages… print.”

The events of the week prior lingered in his mind. In his head, Ayu’s decision must’ve already been a rejection. No doubt entered his mind on the option.

His mind etched on returning to the boy’s home, even after failing to realize said boy’s problems and risking his life in the process.

Then again, Ayu also didn’t kill him on the spot. And the more he thought, the image of Ayu’s concerned face, his eyes drooping and mouth bitten down as he gave a hand to him, it stuck to Oliver with the sole words,

“I’m not gonna leave you alone like this.”

… Paying back wouldn’t be so bad.

The printer beeped as a message rang in his phone buzzed for a message. He flinched at both sounds going off, growling as he picked up the phone first.

The messaged revealed to be from his mother,

I’m going to be back from work later than usual, sorry about that

But I prepped some food for you to have for dinner luckily! Hope you have a good day (11:54pm)

Oliver stared at the words. The brightness of the small text glimmered in his eyes.

He sighed, chucking the phone at cushioned chair in the corner. The traffic outside died down at the moment, leaving only the birds and clock to sing.

He shook off the day-old struggle and grabbed his paper from the printer.

***

“Oliver.”

“Hm?”

“How do you think of life right now?”

A small boy laid on his bed, barely reaching four feet. He played along with a new gift from his mother. His miniscule hands sored from the nylon after playing for long.

He lifted his head towards the boy across him, viewing his stature with his bowl-cut bangs and big green eyes.

The boy stood there, arms crossed. His skin was pale as a sheet. He covered up his left eye with his snow-white hair, while the other eye studied him with an ocean blue.

The streets outside bustled with noise from an ongoing festival. Though, the boy sat back, secluded in his own home to listen through a dense window.

“… What do you mean by that?”

He gestured at the window. “Your life… Do you like it?”

The boy tilted his head. “Of course, I do.”

“What do you even like about it?” He eyed him.

“Well,” the boy set down his instrument, setting his fingers to count. The left hand carried multiple papercuts from reading over and over. “I like my friends. I like my mom. School’s fun since people say I’m smart… I like T.V. and things I get and-”

The white-headed interrupted him with a short chuckle. “You like things, just like every kid I suppose.” He turned, pacing around the room.

The boy only sneered, “Wouldn’t you get that though?”

“… I assume so, yes. But it’s interesting to see kids grow to be so… people-caring. A shame for you and others.”

“What’s there to shame?”

“I-” the white-headed stammered. “It’s not so much to worry about.”

He avoided the boy’s eyes.

“Just… be careful when I’m not here.”

***

Another day on the streets, Oliver walked his way to a certain alley, ukulele in hand yet again.

The weather blew against his cardigan that day. Fall leaves flew left and right in fury, breezing past his hair and shoes in seconds.

Cold sweats dripped down his head. He paced and fidgeted during crosswalks.

He’s going to hate me. I’m gonna be a monster to him.

Thoughts kept spurring in his head. He itched towards his ukulele strap. His stomach cried all the same.

“Shut up,” he muttered, drifting off in the streets. That is, until he stepped towards the crosswalk of Pierdeli Avenue.

There stood a stubby woman. Her blue gown shined in beauty against the others standing, while her blonde hair laid kempt against her peachy shoulders. She stared at the cars with avid eyes, ignoring all those around her as they ignored her back.

However, Oliver stopped his steps as he approached her. He recognized her even from a blurry memory. “Alice… Are you here to talk with me some more?”

She blinked and shook her head. “Oliver! Forgive me for not noticing you pass by. The auto-mobiles are just fascinating to observe even after so long.” She gawked at the speeding car getting chased by the police. She ignored the police and went on. “And yes. I wished for more time with you and was just granted with all the free time in the world.”

A tacked-on smile was plastered to her face. “Right…” I get the cars, at least.

“Are you in a rush?” She faced him.

Oliver stuttered at the attention. “No, no. Not really.” He dug his hands to his pockets. “But you can still walk with me.”

“Ah, I see,” She nodded. Her excitement over the cars dying down by the second. “Pardon my intrusion then.”

The crosswalk light turned green as those surrounding them passed through. Oliver and Alice followed thus.

Her gaze continued looking over toward the streets as they walked in silence. Oliver’s words almost quivered out of his lips, though he hesitated for what to start with.

“Alice?”

“Yes,” she piped up.

“What exactly is going on with me?”

She stifled. “That’s…” sighing, “that’s what I expected you to ask, truly.”

“It was obvious, wasn’t it?” Oliver scoffed at her words. His eyes dabbled to the building walls, avoiding her expression over the answer.

“I can somewhat explain the factors; however, I’m still restricted on telling every detail…”

The boy pinched up, still ignorant of her face. He ordered, “Just tell me what you can.”

“Alright.” A hint of an accent could be heard from Alice, Oliver noted. British was all he could guess. Her voice gave a softer yet stern tone than his sweetly outgoing mother. Her voice was a different subject to focus on however, as he immediately snapped back once she began to speak again. “You… must do what you’ve already done for the rest of your life, I’m afraid. You’ll suffer more than just death if not.”

Her words were tense, as if her throat squeezed them out. They didn’t hit Oliver on impact, though his heart froze all the same. “There’s no way of stopping it, is there?”

She held back with an answer, only for her to breathe out, “No. There’s nothing at all.”

Alice kneeled down to him, halting Oliver midway in a mild-crossing sidewalk. People passed by the two of them with no batted eyes. She held him by the shoulders and focused on his eyes with her pale blue.

“Please believe me when I say this: None of this is your fault. You have the full right to blame this on me and my selfish actions or- God, I can’t even say his name.” She looked off with a painful smile. “Just- It was my own hasty actions that led this to happen. I’m deeply regretful and I apologize to the bottom of my heart… Do you understand?”

“I…” Fifteen seconds for an apology speech wow- “Yes. Yes, I do- Ma’am?”

The woman took her hands off his shoulders to hold his hands. She mumbled while staring down, “I know you must despise yourself; and I’m sorry for that as well.”

Oliver squirmed at the interaction. He leaned back as she froze to her own space. “Well uh…” his attention wavered, “no shit.”

She chuckled, letting go and standing up again. “Now, even if we’ve just met, you shouldn’t speak fowl words around me. I’m still your mother after all.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, “’Isn’t that surprising that you try and censor me.”

They both took more steps together. Alice affirmed to him, “I’m only trying my best. After all, I haven’t been able to for the past eleven years…”

“… Why’d you put me in the foster homes?”

“That was someone else’s idea,” she instantly replied. “But I wanted you to at least have some kind of normality for the first years of life.”

Oliver’s face dulled. “And I’m guessing you weren’t ‘allowed’ to talk to me then?”

She nodded with no other explanation to her answer.

Oliver groaned. He took a breath to ask another question. “So, if you really are my mom, then where’s my dad? Wouldn’t he have something to do with this?”

“He’s…” she looked back, “not here anymore.”

“Oh, okay.” He replied to her with a calm stance, walking off without much of a reaction. “Kinda like the family I’m in now then.”

“Pardon?”

“My adoptive mom’s a widow too. My dad’s death was the reason she adopted me in the first place.”

“I see…”

“What happened to my actual dad then? Did he die from old age or something?” After all, Vittorino said you were ancient.

“Oh, no!” Alice exclaimed, “He didn’t pass from that. We were both similar to immortals. He simply passed due to circumstances.”

Circumstances…?

“Still,” she added, baring a faint smile, “your father was a great man. A bit of a dunce so to say, though endearing at best.”

Her smile brought Oliver to a suspicious stare. “… Why can’t I know so much about this?”

“Why?” She sighed. “Our leader doesn’t want you to discover much so fast. That’s all there is. However, you’ll be able to figure out many things as time goes along.”

Well, that’s helpful.” He chewed on his lip. “You know Vittorino, right?”

“Of course, I do. I’m the reason he watches over you.”

“What situation are you in that led you guys to know each other?”

“Oh… you have the first half at least.” She cleared her throat, taking a breath. “We’re both a part of a society that lets you be immortal. Though, in exchange, we have to kill somebody once a month; otherwise, we’ll be executed.”

Oliver froze. “I’m sorry, what-”

“I understand it’s absurd. Our leader himself is absurd, after all,” she jeered. “But at least he gave us a ‘break’, so to say, on that.”

“You’ve killed people too, then?”

“Yes.”

“And is that why my dad died?”

Her lips pinched together. “… yes.”

An awkward silence held them apart. The large crowds chattering away covered up their distance.

“There are two groups in our society.” Alice continued what she started. “There aren’t many First Eras left… We hated what we were doing, enough to kill ourselves. I’m one of the last ones, and the leader’s aide all the same.”

“How many of you are there left?”

“Five, including myself.” Her voice held no emotion with the statement. Oliver gulped at the amount.

“Then,” he shrugged off the concept, “what about the group?”

“Second Eras? They’re stranger to say the least. Our leader took most of them in when they were mere children, so they were raised to believe murder was moral enough.” She added, “They’re all disturbed. And Vittorino was the first of that era.”

Oliver raised a brow at her. “If you say he’s disturbed, then why do you leave one of ‘em to check up on me?”

Alice answered without a thought. “He was older than most when being taken, so he has a bit more sense to him than the others. Besides, he was the only one willing to out of boredom and favors. I would’ve gotten someone I trust more if she wasn’t an arse about it.”

“So Vittorino was a prick but was more willing than the other prick?”

“Practically.”

Oliver chuckled at her last comment. Though, it crossed his mind that a certain street faced him.

“Um, Alice?”

“I’m about to get to the place I’m going.” He pointed at Ayu’s street. “So, can you go…?”

She opened up with an, “Oh!” adjusting her hair. “Of course, I can.” She began to walk away from him.

“Goodbye then,” she waved, “I hope to see you soon.”

“Yeah,” he hesitantly waved back. “Thanks for the info.”

She disappeared with the crowds; Oliver stared in the distance. The answer he’d gotten in the walk boggled his thoughts. His mother was at least readable, yet restricted all the same.

The puzzle of his origins still floated in the air, close enough to reach, it was just a ‘leader’ that blocked out the useful pieces.

“Who the hell is the guy anyways,” Oliver muttered. Well, a dick out of anything.

He shrugged it off, along with the prior conversation as Ayu’s alleyway stood right in front of him.

In a turn, Oliver peeked through the opening with browned moss. Inside the small home, a lump sat in the middle of the ground.

Oliver tilted his head at the figure, bewildered. “Guess they’re not here…” He entered without another thought, pondering over the little lump.

It bared small little cloth fuzz that moved off from the gentle winds. Oliver leaned over for a closer look; its appearance began to manifest. From ahead, the lump formed to shape. And at the end of the wrapped-up figure was a big tuff of black hair brushing against Ayu’s dry skin.

Oliver backed up from his observations after realizing the lump was just Ayu. The boy fidgeted from his blanket as he slept. Murmurs filled Oliver’s ears. He didn’t bother trying to translate the sloppy whispers, instead sitting down by the sleeping boy.

Settling his bag, he grabbed his ukulele and began tuning. It didn’t take long for him to start strumming. The notes took him off-course from his mental state. It only took the matter of a few chords to bring some satisfaction.

He glanced around at his surroundings while playing. Ayu’s blanket seemed too thin and worn to get any good sleep; his calendar flew left and right that it was only a matter of time until it fell out its tape; and a small journal laid next to Ayu’s sleeping body, right there in the open.

Oliver put his playing at a halt. He placed his instrument down with careful sound, replacing it with the journal. He glanced down at Ayu with weary eyes. Though, after no signs of waking up, Oliver sneered at himself. He turned, hiding the journal from Ayu’s sight, opening it up to read through anything humorous.

First pages: Hilarious. Each held lackluster art. Long torsos, disturbing eyes, no feet, and anything else that could make a drawing off. The scribbles on the side left the artist looking illiterate. Oliver skimmed through it all with puffs of laughing breaths.

However, as the pages went on, the boy encountered pages full of sloppy writing. He squinted his eyes to get at least the beginning of some, though ultimately had to skip to recent pages for better handwriting.

The dates counted for every day. Each day held for every time he did nothing, when he made something new, when he failed, anything. And with almost all entries, there would be a continuous statement: “No Akeldama.”

… Who’s Akeldama?

I havent seen Lillie in a whyle.

Who’s Lillie?

Annette told me that theres bin area deths in the forest for a whyle now

… shit-

The journal was taken from his grasp. He flinched in shock and above him stood Ayu with the item. “What are you doing?”

“I uh-” Oliver’s eyes shifted to the abandoned blanket. “When did you even wake up?” I didn’t even notice him walking.

“A minute ago. But what are you doing with this?” His raspy voice set a colder tone than usual. His red glare shook Oliver up.

“I was just waiting for you to wake up and got curious. Your drawings look cool!”

Ayu frowned with skeptic eyes. He rolled his eyes, yawning, and sat by Oliver. “Fine then.”

“I wanted you to sleep. You don’t seem to get much of it anyways with the traffic.”

“It’s alright, Oliver, really.”

…

“I wanted to talk to you,” Oliver started, “about what happened last week. A bit more straightforwardly at least.”

“I’d figure.” He huffed an awkward chuckle.

“But- uh…” Oliver avoided the boy’s eyes, words couldn’t fill the air. In the midst of his pause, a brief sight of Ayu’s legs reminded him. They were still skinny to the bone as always. “My mom left me food to cook… and I know you need it more than I do.”

His eyes held Oliver with confusion: lowered lips and a blank stare. “So, you want to talk at…?”

“My house. I’ll make the food myself,” God, I hope this is good. “You can shower and wash your clothes first if you want, since I can tell you need some cleaning.”

“I… thanks.” A blush tickled his face. Oliver peered at the dark red against his pale skin. Strange. “I don’t really wanna be an annoyance to you but-”

The boy snapped out of his stare. “It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re struggling like me so it’s the least I can do.”

“Then,” Ayu stood up, padding his dry, open skin, “shouldn’t we get going?”

A blank stare stroke Oliver in a hesitant essence. Nonetheless, he followed. “Um, yeah!”

***

Smoky air blew against the heat fan. Oliver’s eyes focused solely on the meal cooking on the pan. Ayu sat on the side fresh out of the shower and wash. He curled up in his tall seat as he sipped upon a cup of water. They both avoid each other’s eyes; They both allowed the sounds of oil burning up to play over them.

Oliver hesitated speaking. His past thoughts reoccurred to him.

Even if I excuse anything, it’s not like he’ll change his mind.

“What’re you making?” Oliver passed the question off until realizing it was Ayu. He twisted his head back. Ayu still stared at the cup he held. “It smells good.”

“It’s just lemon pork tenderloins. My mom usually gives me pork stuff for me all the time since it used to be my favorite.” He answered with a blank tone, without any joy in his eyes as he cooked.

“Isn’t that stuff hard to make?”

“Not really,” Oliver noted, “Cooking’s pretty easy for me; but that’s inconvenient at best.” He tried to make a stuttered laugh, though he missed the idea of food tasting as good as back then.

They both took another pause.

“You don’t know how to cook yourself, Ayu, don’t you?”

“No… I was usually just given junk food anyways.”

“Then,” he lowered the stove heat, “here, I can show you.”

A skeptical tone overtook him. “You want me to cook?”

“No, I’m going to help you.” Oliver reassured him. So, then you don’t burn the house down. He went off from the stove and set his hands on the table that stood in front of Ayu. “It’ll just be the cooking part of it. That’s easy enough, right?”

“But isn’t that the part where I can burn the house down, like you said?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on it.” He set aside Ayu’s cup from his hands. “This is how I was taught so you’ll be fine.”

***

“So… you just gotta wait ‘til it’s brown?”

The last tenderloin was tossed in the fryer as Ayu asked for once.

“Yes,” Oliver answered. He glared at the one’s Ayu cooked on the side, “Not until they’re charred.”

“I guess that’s easier to follow than cutting it up to see if it’s red inside.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Yeah, I guess that’s more of a chicken thing than pork… but I just grew the habit of being safe.”

Ayu shrugged. “If it’s edible, I’ll eat it.”

“Even a human?”

Ayu frowned at the joke. “There’s a limit.” Oliver’s chest tightened at the mistake.

“… We’re still not gonna talk about that now.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled, staring at the meat in the pan.

Ayu’s wet hair had started to dry out. It puffed up to the same shape it was before. The hair kept Oliver distracted for the silent seconds. His hand reached to touch a small tuff, stroking for a short moment. It’s just soft. “Your hair’s weird.”

His eyes blinked once or twice. “What?”

“Well, it’s long enough to make you look like a girl,” he snorted.

Ayu pulled his hair in front of him. It blocked half of his face. “Shut up. It’s hard to find a way to cut it good by yourself.”

Oliver noted, “That and even when washed, it looks like a puffball.”

“Okay, that’s just how my hair works.”

Oliver gave a small huff of a chuckle. “I’ll get you gel sometime then. It’s distracting-”

“No, don’t get gel,” Ayu retorted, “Annette tried it on my once and I thought it was gross.”

“Why gross…?

“My hair felt like greasy stone, that’s why.”

“… Ayu, that’s the point.”

“Then I don’t like that point.” He grabbed the spatula and plopped the last tenderloin on the serving plate. “I think it’s done.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Huh, that one actually looks pretty good.”

“Just give me more simple directions next time then,” he grumbled.

Oliver sat with his mouth shut. Ayu faced directly next to him. He watched as the boy stuffed himself with everything made.

Oliver was greeted with nothing in front of him. There laid empty space: no plate, no food, only a fork he toddled with his hands.

“Damn, this was great…” He mumbled with a full mouth.

“Like my mom says, even when ruined, it’ll still taste great.”

A whack slammed to Oliver back. His voice squeaked, “Motherfu- that hurt!”

Ayu snorted. “Sorry. Just don’t roast me like that.”

Oliver glared at him.

“Still, tell your mom that I like the recipe.” He took another bite.

Oliver dropped his fork against the table after seconds of no conversation. He tensed himself with his words, “About last week, on my birthday…”

Ayu glanced back in confusion, then swallowing and facing down. “Y-yeah…”

No words were said yet again, only an apparent atmosphere of the topic in the air. Oliver prayed to not choke on it.

No, it doesn’t have to be now.

He stammered, “You know what? Let’s not focus on that right now.”

Ayu blinked. “Wait what?”

“We can just talk about that later; we have all day!” The boy forced a curve on his lips.

Ayu stuttered, “Uh sure-”

“What shows do you- did you watch before all of that?”

“… Hm,” he scratched on the dry skin on his cheek, “My family didn’t watch that much. Just VHS movies and Crimson stuff on Saturdays, I think. I just played around with someone most of the time…”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned Crimson.” Oliver hopped down from his seat.

He shrugged. “I watched them the most out of anything.” He smiled while staring at the air. “They were just cool and people made ‘em cooler, yanno?”

“Sure,” Oliver replied without a thought. As Ayu talked, he walked to the TV, setting up the DVR. “I was never really into that stuff, but either way, you’re missing out.”

“I’ve been ‘missing out’ for four years actually.”

Oliver chuckled at the joke. “Well, ever heard of The Mr. Rious House?”

“Annette might’ve talked about it a little but no, not really.” He climbed out of his seat with careful steps on the stool.

“Oh, boy you’re in for a ride.” With only a press of a remote control, the television set played the crackles of thunder. Ayu jumped at the sound.

“God, damn it- wait is that a dead body?”

Oliver sneered, “Yep, and this is a kid show’s first minute of the first episode.”

“Well this is going to be… a thing.” Ayu sat down on the couch with wobbly knees.

This’ll be fun.

“It won’t,” he hissed, curling up to his knees with an organ playing.

***

“This house isn’t fun.”

The third episode began to play. Oliver and Ayu had settled themselves on the couch with separate blankets, Ayu’s being thicker and covering his entire being.

Oliver sat against the middle cushion. He enjoyed himself over the nostalgia of the first few episodes while glancing over at Ayu’s reactions ever so often.

It all consisted of him flinching and muttering words of help. Humorous to say the least.

“Just wait until you see Mr. Rious, Ayu. He’s the best character.”

He glared at the screen. “I don’t wanna see this man.”

“He’s a fun dad for Noll,” Oliver chuckled. “Wait, that’s a spoiler.”

The show continued to play and Oliver watched along the adventure.

“What do you mean Rious still isn’t here? He hasn’t been in five years! What is this about him being my-”

“Oliver?”

The boy snapped back from his focus. “What is it?”

“You said you were adopted, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“How’re your parents then?”

“Oh.” Oliver hummed in consideration. “I just have an adoptive parent really. It’s me and my mom here.”

“Huh… Did you ever have a dad?” Ayu tilted his head down, curious eyes shining at Oliver.

“I apparently did before my mom took me in.” He leaned back. “He died and got my mom her career choice.”

“Really?” The blanketed boy’s tone didn’t hold as much emotion as prior. “How’d that happen?”

“Simple. He killed himself during college years.”

Ayu choked.

“Now that’s the reaction I expected,” Oliver stated dully.

Ayu gawked, “You don’t just say someone killed himself like that, Jesus Christ-. I thought he just got in some accident or monster attack!”

Oliver shrugged. “My mom thought I was mature enough to tell me when I was younger and I think I’ve matured enough over the past years to talk about it… Probably the most fucked up thing I can say about myself without getting arrested.”

Ayu frantically blinked over and over. “Do- do you ever think about him? Or like, miss him or anything?”

Oliver scoffs. “That’s always the dumb question. I never even knew him; how would I miss him?” He ponders for a second. “Thinking is another thing.”

Ayu didn’t give a reply. The show played as they talked.

“Sure, it’s always interesting to hear about him, I guess. But I mostly just think about him in ‘what if’ scenarios.”

Ayu’s face gleamed with worry. “Like…?”

Oliver bit his lip, then took a breath. “Like what if I die like that?”

Ayu’s eyes widened. What did he expect? His mouth fell flat as he muttered. “I…”

“Noll! What are you even doing?”

“Look, I know I screwed up some times, but this’ll help, won’t it?”

“… Don’t?”

“What? Don’t die?”

“Yeah…”

Oliver smiled. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s been the plan for a while. ‘Least for my body and sub-conscious to say so-”

“Just don’t die, please.” Ayu tugged on Oliver’s blanket. “It’s a dumb thing to ask, but… it’s not fun.”

Oliver studied his expression hidden through his hair. It was torn with scared eyes staring and glimmering a vermillion again. His reaction begged the question: so, who did he have to deal with? But the boy pushed aside the conversation at the end of it. “Let’s keep watching.”

“I uh, yeah that ending scared me.”

“Your reactions are some of the best. But did you really not expect Rious to do that?”

“Look I was hoping he’d be a funny, crazy guy,” Ayu retorted.

“You watch Crimson. Don’t they have screwed up villains in that?”

“Yeah but that was different. Crimson made them goofballs in the end!”

Oliver just eyed him. “Did it really creep you out that much? You’ve definitely seen worse-”

“Yes, it did.”

He laughed it off and transferred the topic. “I learned one of the themes on my uke. They were fun ones, weren’t they,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

Oliver sat up. “The song’s kinda slow but I did it.” He paced back to his room to grab his ukulele out of the case. In the corner of his eye, he peered his switchblade on the corner chair. A piercing in his bloody lip could suffice for the time being, so he stepped aside. He won’t come into this room anyways.

He ran back to the living room where Ayu played with his now soft hair and sat back next to him.

“Surprisingly the full version sounds really nice,” Oliver mumbled as he tuned up his instrument a bit. “Okay…” He took a breath before starting a set of chords.

Overall, the protagonist’s theme laid great poetic-ness to the story as a well-meaning representation of his backstory and foreshadowing to come, at least in Oliver’s head. The theme was rather soft. The plucking of the strings following and drifting along one by one emerged the room in an echoing tragedy. Notes played to the tune of the mother’s lullaby of tender somber, and eventually, her words began.

“If you sing me a lullaby,

Then maybe a love song too…

And one day, you’ll sing me a requiem,

And someday, they’ll sing yours too.”

Her song was a simple poem, not much substance in lyrics. The song held meaning in the story at least.

After some repetition, it took a few strums and tabs to finish the piece.

“And that’s the song.” Oliver set down the ukulele while speaking. “It might be a little boring but who knows, my music tastes may just be boring.”

“You really sing good,” Ayu commented.

“Well, you mean, I sing well.”

“Shut the hell up,” Ayu pushed Oliver, nearly making the boy fall over from the force. “I hated grammar out of anything in school.”

“School’s pretty easy,” Oliver flaunted, striking a pose. “But I’ve also been told that I’m gifted in music.”

“Oh yeah? Then stop being a show-off,” Ayu snapped back at him.

“Sorry,” he replied, with no meaning expressed in his words and tone.

Oliver returned back to his ukulele to play with the strings. The tune he formed ended up being major somehow. Things are going well for now at least-

“Oliver, are we gonna talk?”

Great, I jinxed it. “Huh?”

“You said you were going to but… I guess you just wanted to distract yourself.” Ayu crawled closer to Oliver.

The boy didn’t make any movement; he continued playing with a nod.

“You… really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Another nod.

“Look…” Ayu started. “I get this entire thing is fucked up. I still think it’s too fucked up for me to- allow it to get in my head. But I can still listen… I wanna be helpful for somebody for once. ‘Specially with that stuff you were saying earlier…”

Oliver stayed quiet.

Ayu sighed. “I’m sorry if I scared you there… Just say what you want.”

Oliver’s melody dwindled down each beat getting slower until a full stop. He breathed in and out before saying few words. “I can’t fix it if you were wondering.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be like this, without a choice.” He took a pause. “I think I was a pretty big accident.”

Ayu’s face scrunched up. “I don’t think jokes are good for right now.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I can’t change or control it. And I may end up hurting both you and Annette so… I think it’s best that you guys stop hanging out with me. Like most people.”

Ayu curled up more into his blanket with pondering eyes. “… I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure-”

“You’re one of the only people I can actually talk to, Ollie. You look like a good guy too.” His stared up directed into Oliver’s gaze. “I don’t think you should give up on a possible answer just yet.”

“I,” Oliver stumbled on words. “I still wanna keep at least some distance.”

“How come?”

“Well, whenever I make friends, I end up screwing them over the worst way possible by accident so that’s a reason.”

Ayu blinked up again. Then realized. “Oh.” He made a crooked smile, brows faced with slight worry. “I’m pretty sure I’m strong enough, still.”

Oliver’s face goes sour in doubt.

“Oh yeah… how come you always wear that jacket?” Ayu tugs at the red cardigan. “Don’t you have more?”

“I do,” Oliver answered. “But I mainly use this one since blood stains are harder to find with this.”

Ayu cringes. “That… sucks.”

“It does.” Oliver tugged his left sleeve farther down. “It really does.”

Oliver looked over at the clock on the stove. He stood up and dragged Ayu to get up too. “You should get going. My mom’s gonna be here in an hour. Do you want me to take you?”

Ayu passed him off. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for bringing me over. I feel fresh, yanno?” He pulled up his newly cleaned jacket up to his nose, eying Oliver as he sniffed it.

Is he trying to hide that? Oliver chuckled at the thought. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Uhm, see ya later.” Ayu grinned as he shut the door.

Oliver only muttered back his words; however, as soon as the door closed, he rushed to his room and jumped onto the bed. “Oh, thank God!”

“Thank Him for what?” Vittorino appeared against the wall like every day.

“I have a dog’s nose and he doesn’t smell terrible anymore. Plus, he didn’t wanna kill me!”

“Oh, right. It wasn’t that surprising.” He snickered. “It’s been a week again, how’ve you been.”

“Shut your damn mouth; I almost forgot about it.”

“Hungry then,” he proclaimed. “Are you gonna eat soon?”

“Til I’m forced to, I’m not gonna.” The boy slugged himself off the bed to the switchblade on the chair. “Now, if you can please leave? I’m about to have a snack.”

He made his way to the bathroom routine.

“Sure, fine. Just don’t drink too much. Alice’ll get mad at me again.” He disappeared as soon as he told.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure she will.”

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 8 #swearing warning #suicide mention #death mention #murder mention?#blood mention warning #why are my tags always like this #bst oliver #bst alice #bst ayu #bst vittorino

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crispyimagines17 · 5 years

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“GOSSIP GIRL: New York, New York“ (Chapter 1).

Summary: Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite. Things begin to stagger at the Upper East Side with the return of Alana Howarth and the unexpected arrival of Timothée Chalamet, a European handsome boy and rising ruler who has come for Alana; ignoring that NYC already has an heir and prince in its realm, Tom Holland. Secrets, romance, drama and lots of champagne are our daily bread. You know you love me, XOXO.

Originally based on: R’s & CrispyImagines writers’ idea.

Written by: @crispyimagines17

CAST:

Tom Holland

Timothée Chalamet

Disclaimer: This fiction is set on our days (2019). Gossip Girl is now all over social media, Twitter and Instagram being the best sites to find hot tea. Also, for those who may ask what happens with Serena, Blair, Chuck, Dan, Nate and the original cast, they’re now grownups who set the reign and have left it for new generations.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m really really excited for this. A huge sorry for those who’ve been waiting an eternity; college and our sense of perfection got in the way. But now here it is. Hope you love it as much as we do and enjoy every word <3 (also hope this feels like watching a Gossip Girl episode).

Further author's note: So this me from the future haha I was reading this chapter and holy crap! I needed an editor for this, it's good but some scenes are garbage and just make the chapter really REALLY long. Please new reader, give my series a chance. I promise the 2nd chapter is better (check it on the masterpost). Way better. Also, I'll try to re-write this chapter to take away that shit. In the meantime, please try to enjoy my efforts.

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

Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here… And I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources – jessica97 – sends us this;

Spotted at JFK International Airport, bags in hand: Alana Howarth. Was it only a year ago our It-Girl mysteriously disappeared for, quote, ‘boarding school’? And just as suddenly she’s back.

You don’t believe me? See it for yourselves. Thanks for the photo, Jess.

Wonder what Tom Holland thinks about her return? Not much, I guess. Manhattan’s elite prince himself was caught low-key undercover at a downtown Starbucks.

But she’s not the only surprise that comes up with foreign winds. Fresh meat sent from overseas, girls. A foreign handsome boy chatted with our Lana before taking his own way. New snack, huh?

Enjoy your mocha latte, Tom; you’re gonna need it. And welcome back, Alana.

The flight 0159 London-New York City had arrived at its destiny. And Alana Howarth breathed for the first time in a long time the air of her city. Maybe it was good to be back at home. The airport was somehow peaceful, at least.

Geoffrey, the family butler, was waiting for her in the same place as usual; near the candy shop where 7-year-old Alana loved to buy chocolates after a long journey.

“Geof!”, she took her Prada pale gold sunglasses up to her hair to glance at her old friend better.

“Miss Howarth”, the 50-year-old man who might be easily confused with Alfred Pennyworth showed her a bright smile.

“Oh, c’mon. I brought you something.”

“You’re so kind, miss Howarth. Let me take your luggage and…” Geoffrey went silent and only made a gesture with his eyebrows for Miss Howarth to turn her face behind her.

A young handsome man was decidedly walking towards her. By the Louis Vuitton travel pillow around his neck, one could say his flight had just landed too.

“Surprise!”, he shouted while shaking his hands as magicians do.

“Timothée?”, but Alana’s reaction wasn’t reciprocal. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, completely confused. “Wha- How?”

“I was on the same flight, London-New York. Literally crossed the sea to see you again.”

“But I never saw you on First Class boarding line”

“Ran late.” Before she could argue something else, he added “And asked for a seat far from yours, I didn’t want you to see me.”

“Wow… Why?”

Both youngsters were looking right into each other’s eyes; Timothée’s with a flash of hope and Alana’s were almost watery.

“I just couldn’t let you go so easily”

The following silence allowed Geoffrey to help her and cleared his throat loudly, bursting their bubble.

“Miss Howarth, your mother gave instructions to have you at the penthouse at 2 p.m.”

The clock read 1:40 p.m. Saved by the bell.

“Sure, she did. Thank you, Geof.”

“Go, go. I’ll send you a DM”, Timothée nodded and made a gesture with his hand for her to enter the limo.

They shared a brief eye contact once more before the handsome man turned back and walked away.

Overwhelmed, Alana was about to step into the limo when she heard a female known voice.

“Alana?”

“Marva?”, a brunette typical-Upper-East-Side-girl approached her with eyes wide open and eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh God, you’re back!”

Both girls shared a courtesy hug. Though, Alana was clearly tired.

“And… how you’ve been?”

“Cool. My cousin Jessica arrives today”, Marva answered as opened her purse to take out her cell phone and unblock it. “Well, I guess everyone knows you’re back now. It’s all over Gossip Girl”.

“Wait, what?”, Alana asked with a frown while trying to see Marva’s phone screen, but before she could read anything Marva kept it back into her purse.

“Gotta go, A. See you.”

------------------

Oh, A. New York has never been peaceful at all. You should know that more than anyone. Our princess is back, but apparently her crown has lost one diamond; what did she do last summer? And why did she return?

Down at Starbucks in the Upper East Side, Tom Holland had his phone on Do Not Disturb mode. He preferred it that way. His mother had announced him Alana’s arrival at breakfast, and he wanted to take a breath before seeing her. The last time both had spoken left a weird feeling down his chest, so he better be prepared.

Tom plopped down on his Jaguar’s leather back seats with a sigh, leaned against his back and sip his cappuccino. His mother words echoed on his mind over and over again.

“Our dear Alana comes back today, Tom. Please, don’t forget the party Margot and I have prepared for her at the Palace.”

Our dear Alana. Another sigh escaped through his mouth as he smoothed his hair back with one hand. But he had a special ringtone for Gossip Girl and its sound interrupted his thoughts, couldn’t helping himself on unblocking his device and check out the latest news.

Tom tightened his grip on his phone as his eyes read the lines about a foreign handsome man. In a single move, he dialed a number and approached it to his ear with pursed lips.

“Evan. Tom Holland here. Tell me everything you know about this man, I’ll send you his picture.”

--------------------

Timothée looked through the polarized windows with his eyes fixed on New York City. It was very American, not a single glimpse of Europe, indeed. His phone vibrated under his right pocket and as soon as he read the name on the screen, he answered.

“How was your flight, Timmy?”, a soft female voice asked on the other line.

“Good, mom.”

“Fine. Your father wondered where the private jet was.”

“Father… Asking for the jet instead of his son”, Timothée gritted his teeth and nodded ironically.

“Are you…?”

But he anticipated to her words and answered right away.

“Yeah, I’m on my way to uncle Chuck’s. Call you later… Love you too, bye.”

Chuck Bass, his mother’s millionaire cousin. They were related by Chuck’s mother, but her death didn’t make them close. Though, family is family and the Chalamet were always invited to every Bass event. But Timothée hadn’t seen him in years, he barely remembered Bart Bass’ funeral or more so, Chuck’s wedding with Blair Waldorf.

But he knew one thing for sure; his uncle had been the king of the Upper East Side, and now that he’s not a youngster then his place must be someone else’s.

With a frown and pursed lips only a true Slytherin could do, Timothée opened his Twitter and typed “Gossip Girl”, being immediately presented to an account describing;

Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite.

He smirked.

“Time to catch up.”

---------------

February 16th, 2018. One year ago.

The sun drew a soft orange-blue in the sky, ready to let the night its way. Her Louis Vuitton luggage set laid behind her, up in an airport cart.

“Bye, daddy”, Alana kissed her father’s cheek and embraced him as a couple of teardrops fell over his shoulder.

“Take care, sweetheart”, Dr. Howarth’s nose huffed in an effort not to cry.

“Bye, Geof”, she embraced her old friend. The butler took his hat off and smiled at the Howarth girl he had served since her very first day.

“Bye, mom”, Alana kissed her mother. Though their adieu was shorter than her father’s.

A male voice echoed in every corner of the Airport, announcing the boarding room for flight 912 New York-London. Alana took a deep breath before nodding an airport butler for him to drive the cart along her side.

And without further goodbye, she walked towards the VIP boarding line.

***

Once on her seat, she asked the stewardess for a glass of water and an Aspirin. This was more than she can handle. Though, they say it’s better to tear it from the root. So, she typed the well-known user on her Instagram and found right-away the latest hit she had read a couple of days before.

In fairy tales, Cinderella danced until midnight with her Prince Charming. But on the Upper East Side, our Cinderalana ran away before dancing with our Prince T and, instead of a crystal slipper, left a whole crowd open-mouthed. Sorry T, but you had to read the tale first; Cinderella didn’t kiss the Prince on Valentine’s Day ball while he was under vodka’s spell.

Her eyes went watery and bit her tongue to hold her feelings inside. Gossip Girl having perfect timing for dropping bombs. Suddenly, Alana felt the chills running down her spine as she remembered Tom’s closeness and everybody’s eyes on them with their phones out ready to snap the moment.

And it made her sick. She shut her eyes as she leaned against her back on the comfortable seat with a sigh. This had to end, now. But gossips would always be around, and people have no mercy. That’s why she had to leave.

In a movement worthy of dramatic film scenes, Alana looked out through the plane’s window and saw New York City lights vanish before her eyes. Then, she brought her attention back to her phone screen still on Gossip Girl and decidedly clicked ‘Unfollow’.

A new beginning, far far away.

---------------

May 2019. Present Day NYC - Howarth’s penthouse.

“What do you mean dad is not at home?”

Alana frowned at the woman standing behind a desk with her glasses in the middle of her nose, focused on the golden MacBook screen.

“Well, hospitals demand a lot of him these days. And it certainly did not help the fact he had to deal with the Foundation too when his daughter left.” Margot, Alana’s mother, answered throwing a reproach glance in her daughter’s direction while interlacing her fingers to rest her chin on top.

“But I’m back now.”

“He said he’d be here as soon as his meeting with the board finishes. Maybe you can re-join your place as ‘Charity and Foundation leader’.”

“I’d love that, truly.” Alana said as a warm smile covered her face. If one thing she had missed was the Foundation and all its activities; see children’s faces when they were told their surgeries would be free.

“By the way, the Holland’s organized an evening party at the Palace in honor of your return.” Margot added, bringing her attention back to the MacBoook screen and typing fast over the keyboard.

“Oh mom…”, the prodigal daughter rolled her eyes. Margot being Margot Howarth and the socialite.

“You know they’re very fond of you. Besides, Tom and you have always been close, like cousins.” Alana’s mom took her glasses off to fix her eyes on her daughter as she shrugged. “And when Elizabeth told me about her idea, well, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Hilarious for you.”

“Alana please don’t act like a chi…”

“I’ll be on my room!”, she shouted already on her way towards the stairs. “Until I move again somewhere else”, this last muttered under her breath.

***

As soon as her foot stepped into her room, a kind of relief relaxed every muscle of her body, plopping down over her big bed. After a few seconds, the whole world fell under her chest.

“Fuck”

The very one thing she wasn’t ready to face, and her mother arranges everything as always for it to happen. Alana could’ve continued regretting her bad luck, but jetlag dominated her will and a couple of minutes later, fell deeply asleep.

***

It wasn’t until Dr. Howarth kissed her forehead that her eyes opened, and she slowly got up, still under the sleep’s stupor.

“Morning, sunshine”

“God, what time is it?”

“Six.” He answered calmly as he lend her a glass of cold water. “So, how was Europe?”

After drinking the last drop, she placed the empty glass on the bedside table and fixed her eyes into her father’s.

“Great. Thanks for… everything. Spending my Senior high school year there was the best I could’ve ever done, thank you for supporting that.”

Dr. Marcus Howarth sat up on her bed with his lips pursed in an apologizing manner.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so soon on your Graduation Day, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. You were there, that’s all that matters.”

“You know I’m so thrilled you’re back, and more so behaving like an adult. What happened to my naughty teenager?”

Both shared a laugh. Her father had always been honest with her and knew exactly when to act as a friend or as a parent.

“She grew up.”

Marcus nodded with a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, she did.”

A brief silence floated in the room. Dr. Howarth was about to stood up when Alana asked.

“Dad?”

He looked at Alana with a slight frown.

“I met someone”

His father’s blissful aura faded and narrowed his eyes, ready to hear the story his daughter was about to tell.

---------------

February 17th, 2018. London City.

Alana closed the door as soon as the last worker left the last suitcase and stood before the mess, but a genuine smile covered her face making it almost shine.

There she was in her new, and so far craziest, adventure: living alone. After enjoying a few minutes of peace, Alana began unpacking. It’d be a long night and she had to hurry.

Tomorrow was her first day at Woldingham School for Girls in Surrey, only 35 minutes away from her location; her father alleged she should study somewhere in London, but her mother decided that, if her daughter was studying in the UK, then she’d do it at the same school she once did. At least Gossip Girl’s realm didn’t get that far.

The bell rang, bringing her back to Earth; approached to the micro near the button instalment that controlled the gate.

“Who is it?”

Her favorite female voice answered.

“It’s me. Blair.”

“Come up!”

A couple of minutes later, godmother and goddaughter were embraced with big smiles.

“Goodness, you’re here!”

“Chuck’s waiting outside, I just wanted to see the place you… chose to live”, Blair Waldorf glanced with a frown every corner of the floor as if looking a horror show. “Seriously, Lana, you should stay at my house here, nobody’s living there. And I’ve heard Benedict Cumberbatch lives a couple of houses from it.”

“I’d like to give this place a try. But thank you.”

Blair hold her goddaughter’s hands and showed her a sincere encouraging smile.

“And remember, no matter if your last name is Howarth, you’ve always been a Waldorf.”

***

The subway ride hadn’t been as bad as she imagined. But living in London with less privileges than in New York felt good.

Alana was about to step outside the principal’s office.

“Here”, the principal handed her a bunch of papers. “Your first class had just begun a couple of minutes ago. ‘Art History’, you better hurry up.”

“Thank you for receiving me, Principal Martha.”

Both women shook hands and shared polite smiles.

“You’re welcome, Alana. It was a pleasure.”

Once on the aisle, she inspected the papers content and between them found a map of the whole campus.

“Not even Harry Potter’s Hogwarts map was that difficult.” Alana muttered under her breath with her eyes locked in the drawings of aisles and buildings.

Apparently, this boarding school was only for girls but was related to the boys’ boarding one next to this, and so, some classes were shared; such as Art History.

When she finally figured out where the hell her room was, it had already begun as the principal warned her. She was standing near the door with her eyes trying to see through the little windows.

“Maybe it’s almost finishing”

But before she decided to leave, a boy with wavy hair and indie aspect cleared his throat and touched her back with his finger. He had drops of sweat running around his face, he ran late too.

“Excuse me uh, are you coming inside?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Seems the class is interesting, I’ll interrupt the professor’s speech, maybe.”

“Mr. Blackwood’s? He doesn’t mind.”

“Really?”

His aura was full of electricity and calm at the same time. And his eyes made Alana’s impression to sound reasonable; both eyeballs were surrounded by a smoldering green.

“Yeah. Besides, if you come in with me, he won’t get mad. Trust me”

“Alright”, she answered doubtfully.

Though his charisma convinced her about the professor’s behavior, this was the first time she trusted someone who had just met.

“I’m Timothée, by the way.” He stretched out his hand to shake it with hers, something not commonly used among youngsters.

“Alana.”

Timothée gently smiled at her as he made a gesture with his hand to let her walk inside first.

“Nice to meet you, Alana. Shall we?”

***

April (one week before Summer) 2018. Woldingham Boarding School.

A couple of months were enough for Alana to feel like a Londoner. She might not know the city by heart but had connected to it in a way she never had with New York. And she barely remembered Gossip Girl or the Valentine’s ball incident.

Mr. Blackwood was in front of the whole class pointing something on the projector’s screen. ‘Modern Art’ era and music was the main subject of the day.

“So, as many of you may know or even have the honor of meeting, Hans Zimmer did change the way film music was recorded…”

The boarding school, despite what her mother commented her, had rich kids from several Western Europe countries. Perhaps Margot referred to the fact most were new monied instead of old monied as in Constance, her former high school in New York.

Timothée was sitting next to her in the middle row.

“He’s getting sentimental.” He turned his head and whispered near her ear.

“Shh.” Alana giggled.

“He is. Jesus, I told him to follow his dream, get his butt to Hollywood and ‘boom’ the Oscar goes to Joe Blackwood for Best Original Score”

Blackwood crossed his legs as he leaned his arms over the desk behind his back.

“Alexandre Desplat finally received his Oscar, but… Alright, back to topic, please eyes on the screen.”

Everyone did as told. Unlike other classes, this one gave them the opportunity to flirt, so in exchange they obeyed the young and cool professor Joe.

“The following video reflects what we’ve been talking these weeks; the power of music.”

Letters – Abel Korzeniowski

Lights had been turned down, leaving the room in complete darkness until two dancers appeared on screen. Their performance was so beyond perfect it almost made her wince.

Once the lights were on again, Mr. Blackwood’s excitement filled his face and voice.

“You see? Every note was sintonized with every movement. Did you feel the passion?”

A moment of silence between the students reigned in the room, until Timothée broke it and everyone’s heads turned in his direction.

“Indeed, Mr. Blackwood. The sequence of the young man reading his lover’s letter reflects pure desperation and pain. Ballet is quite misunderstood sometimes, just bodies moving doesn’t make any sense… But when music accompanies this, it’s… Art.”

His velvety voice was casting a hypnotizing shadow on his very feature. Everyone’s eyes were glued on him. However, it wasn’t interest what she saw reflected on them but a weird mix of respect and fear? She wasn’t sure.

And when he finished his comment, Mr. Blackwood cleared his throat bringing the class’ attention back to the desk where he had been without moving, also spelled by Timothée’s charm.

“That’s art, ladies and gentlemen. Your final Project is about this video, I want an essay on my desk by the end of the week.”

***

Ten minutes later, Timothée and Alana were walking down the aisle in silence.

“What are your plans for this summer?”

She glanced at him with a slight frown as she let out a chuckle. That was unexpected.

“Head back to New York, maybe.”

His eyes were fixed on her, ready to perceive any reaction on her feature while both kept walking.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Suddenly, her face changed to a completely speechless expression. So, he decided to add more and ease her a bit.

“Yeah, road tripping all over Europe. Or at least Western Europe before senior year.”

Nothing. Her eyes were blank.

“Don’t tell me Summer at the Hamptons sounds better.”

Two blinks. And seconds later, a smile.

“No… Uhm, you know what? I’d like a road trip… Very much.”

It was true, another summer listening to her mother’s speech was the last she wanted to do. Or facing what she left.

---------------

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: The airport handsome young man stepping into the Empire Hotel. There are only two reasons a stranger would walk in with such determination; he’s a guest in a hurry or he’s visiting our former prince Chuck Bass.

***

NYC – Bass’ penthouse.

The elevator door opened and Timothée walked into his uncle’s penthouse. He had his hands inside his pocket as he stared the whole place; it must be the biggest penthouse in New York.

Chuck Bass appeared in a blue suit, holding a glass of whisky on his right hand.

“Timmy, long time no see!”

Bass handed him the glass as he approached to his mini-bar and served a drink for himself.

“Indeed, uncle.”

“Your mother?”

“She’s fine but couldn’t come. You know, Europe is-“

“Her home. That’s what she always told me when we were kids.”

His uncle made a slight gesture for him to seat over the couch.

“And your father?”

“Business.”

“Chalamet… Guess his new empire got him pretty busy.”

Timothée nodded before drinking a sip of whisky.

“I still remember when my father learned your mother was going to marry your father Domenico, a nobody, as he called him.” A hint of a playful grin showed over his face. “He surprised us all when suddenly bought your mother a mansion at Monte Carlo and had investors everywhere.”

A naughty smile covered Timothée’s face as a memory crossed over his mind at the mention of Monte Carlo.

“Oh, that mansion… Got some cool parties over there”

Chuck joined him with the same smile.

“You got that fun sense from your mother’s family side, particularly me.” Chuck blinked as he reminded himself the main subject of that chat.“But, what can I do for you, nephew?”

“Well, I’m pretending to stay here for a while. Yale haven’t accepted me, but Columbia already did and just wanted to let you know.”

“You already found where to live?”

“Yeah, they’re sending my luggage there.”

Again, the elevator doors opened but this time Serena van der Woodsen stepped inside, announcing her hurried way.

“Chuck it’s me! Just came for something Blair left and…”

She was open-mouthed for a splice of a second, before approaching to Chuck though not taking her eyes away from the young man sitting in front of him.

“Serena, this is my nephew Timothée Hal Chalamet.” Both stretched hands politely. “Timothée, this is Serena van der Woodsen, my wife’s best friend.”

“A pleasure.” Serena, despite the years, still glowed in beauty showing him her characteristic smile. “Maybe you’d like to join us tonight. It’s at the Palace, Blair and a friend organized a party to celebrate Alana Howarth’s return.”

“Come, Tim. Blair would be delighted to see you.”

The young man raised his eyebrows in surprise at the invitation. He pretended to be speechless for a few seconds just before a big smile wrote all over his face.

“I’d love to. Thank you so much”

Well, he had to admit it. That insane egocentric philosophy ‘The Universe conspires in your favor to achieve your purposes’ proved him wrong. Thank you, New York.

---------------

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: A prince with bewilderment written all over his face. Poor T, here’s an advice; if you need help, don’t ask Cupid nor Saint Vodka.

***

NYC – Holland’s penthouse.

Tom was under a warm shower. As soon as he arrived, he locked his door and went straight to his bathroom in an attempt to slowly regain his senses and clarity. He later changed warm for cold water, running his fingers through his hair and sniffing loudly at the freezing touch.

A couple of months ago, he would do this same thing and more, and still say he deserved this pain for what he had done. But today, his mind had changed. Now, he did it as a knight would’ve prepared his horse and his best sword before battle.

Evan was fast, his best informer in fact. Tom was quite pleased by his efficiency; he still hadn’t reached the building when already had the file on his phone. It took his informer less than an hour to get everything about Timothée Hal Chalamet and gather it onto a file.

The first pages were enough for Holland to understand what this man was doing here. He felt blood running faster than ever through his veins, his breathing sped up, clenched his jaw hard and his body was almost trembling in rage. So, he got himself into the shower.

And there he was.

“I fucked up, Alana… I fucked up everything.” He shut his eyes, trying to hold tears inside. “And now this son of a bitch appears from Nowhere…”

Tom couldn’t blame him for the main title in the first page.

“Timothée ‘The King’ Chalamet”

He had laughed when he read it; only someone stupid would name himself a king and add it to his own name. But his smile faded as he kept analyzing and reading newspaper headers.

Chalamet had earned his nickname in late years, by heart. All over Europe, people recognized him as a nice charismatic and gentle young man when regarding adults. But among youngsters, a different story surrounded his name.

Not that he was terrifying or a murderer, a psycho or whatever. Not at all. He was more like a plague. A virus that entered through your ears and eyes.

Newspapers described him in few words as a promoter of good, mainly when he attended to hospitals or charity events. They ignored completely his scandalous life. Early on, his social status had remained low-key, almost nonexistent if not for a couple events his family attended hosted by the Bass family. His debut in true high society had been at the age of 11, when his family moved to Monte Carlo and since then have enjoyed a very wealthy life.

Though, he began building his realm in an Italian boarding school when he was 14; a professor was fired. Nobody really knew the reason; some said that had been because he had seduced her, others said that she scolded him after class for not delivering his homework on time and he turned things around until she cried, and others said she sneezed very close of him.

Later, at the age of 16, when his name was known in several Western Europe countries, he offered a party in Amsterdam. Some say celebrities such as The Weeknd and Cristiano Ronaldo were there. And more parties like that were hosted by him; it’s said Ed Sheeran got inspiration for a song that later became his hit ‘Shape of You’ while he attended one.

Although, when Chalamet turned 18 and moved to London, he settled down and devoted to Art in a calm boarding school.

“Months later, just after he decided to agree a kind of armistice with his realm, Alana comes to his life… And everything because of me.”

The water had ceased falling and Tom reached a towel, drying his face first and breathing deep while blaming himself.

“But this motherfucker is not in Europe. This is New York.”

---------------

Summer 2018

Seventy summer nights together. Perhaps Shakespeare, Nancy Meyers, and the whole bunch of screenwriters who wrote romcoms about summer loves were right. And she’d confirm it a thousand times… She hadn’t felt better in a long long time.

Alana chuckled and bit her lower lip from time to time as she reviewed her phone gallery with all her on-the-road memories.

He had told her this was his favorite, thus he set it as his lockscreen.

This was Paradise. Although the deal was road tripping, some luxury wouldn’t do any harm. She couldn’t even believe the beauty in the view their shared suite enjoyed.

The sound of the glass door from the shower made her immediately smile as the picture of Timothée with a towel wrapped around his waist filled her eyes.

He smiled at her too and turned around to open the mirrored cabinet and look for his Hugo Boss cologne. Once he found it, he poured some over his hand and dispersed it around his neck.

“Ready for your surprise?”

Alana smirked. Her eyes had been focused on his movements she didn’t expect that.

“What? You didn’t tell me”

“Oh, it’s true. I forgot to tell you about your surprise, maybe cause that’s what surprises are. A SECRET.”

“You’re a bad bad guy for not telling me.”

He walked towards her with a mischievous smile.

“But I’m YOUR bad guy.”

Timothée approached slowly and then captured her lips with his in a long and soft kiss. He cupped her face in his hands after pulling away.

“Go, babe. Get ready.”

Now was her turn to take a shower. Life couldn’t be better.

***

“Oh God. Timothée you didn’t…”

Alana was open-mouthed as she looked through the window how the limo drove them to the front door of the auditorium. A big poster announced tonight’s event: The 1975 in concert.

He rejoiced in his success for making her that happy.

“I did, darling. I did.”

“But- wh- how?”

“Let’s just say Matty Healy owed me a favor.”

“You know Matty Healy? Oh, dear heaven…”

Once inside the complex, another surprise came for her; Matty reserved them special seats in the front row. This had to be a fucking dream, one Alana wanted to never end.

The lights were all off, only a few white shadows were visible. Some guitar chords resonated. And suddenly, a blue neon light lit up the stage. Robbers characteristic sounds shouted making the whole crowd crazy and she couldn’t help herself but joining them.

Timothée just looked at her, at the shine in her eyes reflecting those lights and felt his heart melt. When he remembered the lyrics, he also joined the crowd and the woman next to him.

The group played a lot of songs more, connected, laughed and played with their audience. Matty even mentioned them:

“A few friends of mine are here tonight. Hope you’re enjoying this. ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PEOPLE?”

As the end of the night came closer, the illumination changed slowly until a violet-pink light colored the stage and a kind of white smoke covered the arena. One more song and it’d be over.

It was ‘Somebody Else’. Alana’s favorite song from The 1975. Her eyes went watery as a soft smile wrote over her face.

He felt it too. Countless times he had told Matty this was their best song ever, so when it began playing Healy looked at him and blinked an eye before singing.

Timothée pressed his body against hers with her back touching his chest. He wondered if she could feel his fast heartbeats. Though she did nothing, but wince at his touch that only sent shivers down her spine.

He was a few inches taller, so his breath moved some strands of her hair. His hands ran down her arms until it reached hers and hold them as both crossed their fingers; hand to hand. Slowly, he led their arms to raise them above their heads and move with the music.

And if there’s a thought, it was a lie.

Two bodies, two souls, two hearts. Dancing together. Being one.

“Let’s keep dancing, let’s do it”.

Matty said to the audience, but Timothée felt the message had been more for him because he saw the way he danced with Alana. Yeah, he perfectly knew what Healy wondered and he was right; The King fell in love.

***

Backstage, Timothée introduced Alana to The 1975 members.

“You guys enjoyed the concert?” Matty asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.

“Hell yeah. It was amazing, you guys are AWESOME.”

Her smile was infinite. Almost nothing in the world would make it fade.

“Thank you, thank you. And what are you both doing? I mean, you wanna join us at the after-party?”

The couple looked at each other’s eyes and immediately knew the answer; they wanted to spend the night together at the hotel.

“Maybe next time, Matty. But thank you.” Timothée answered as he nodded to his friend.

“The King shall rest.”

The singer and Timothée shared a masculine hug before Alana took a picture of them with her Polaroid.

“Was a big pleasure seeing you, man. And hope to hear more from you, Alana; you gotta be The Queen.”

***

Alana stood before the mirror and started removing pins from her hair.

“What a night. I still cannot believe it.”

“Pure magic”, Timothée said standing behind her and slowly approaching to retake the same contact as in the concert.

Both looked at their reflection and stayed in silence for a minute before she turned her face to meet her lips with his in a soft kiss.

“Do you love me?”, she asked.

Instead of answering, he kissed her again but desperately this time. Her back hit the nearest wall as he deepened the kiss and unfastened her robe before kissing her neck.

But suddenly he stopped. The Killers Mr. Brightside’s chords coming from her purse interrupted the moment; her phone was ringing. She reached for it and her face paled when she saw the name flashing on the screen; Tom Holland.

She tried to collect herself, speechless as hesitance prevented her from making what her memory commanded her almost instinctively. Her thumb struggled between two choices; she answered, obeying her brain’s will.

“Alana?”

Alana winced at the sound of his voice, though she couldn’t utter a word. Timothée stood behind her as he smoothed his hair back with both hands, confused and frustrated.

“If you’re listening… Oh God, I-I-I don’t know what time is in your location, maybe it’s late or… not,” he began with jitters and hesitance cracking his voice. “Listen, it doesn’t matter if you’re a couple hundred miles from Japan… I was wondering if you have plans tonight.”

He made a pause, waiting for an answer or at least a reaction on the other line, but Alana kept frozen in her place, so he took a deep breath to encourage himself and continue.

“Maybe we could talk. Please, let me explain what-”

“Stop!” Alana exclaimed with an angry yet broken voice and hung up the phone.

She stood there for a couple of minutes more, with her eyes glued to the window view facing the darkness of the ocean at night. And when she finally faced Timothée, who had his eyes fixed on her, she swallowed hard. His eyes widened at the sight of her face, pale as ghost.

“I’d like to get some fresh air… Alone.”

He nodded with a slight worried frown. It was clear she had to make an effort to utter a word. He leaned against the couch, letting a sigh escape from his mouth.

The phone rang again. Mr. Brightside’s chords again over the bed.

Timothée answered.

“Alana? Please, listen to me. I-I-I’m so sorry.”

As soon as he heard a male voice, and even more after listening the weak apologize, his blood boiled.

Who the hell ever dared to hurt her?

He clenched his jaw when he read the name; Tom Holland.

***

When Alana crossed the door and entered their suite, a huge relief relaxed every muscle of Timothée’s body. A part of him told him not to, but he couldn’t help himself on pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” She whispered over his shoulder before pulling away. “I’m sorry for leaving like that…”

His eyes were filled with tenderness for the woman standing face to face.

“No need to apologize, Alana.”

“Yes, I have to. We were having OUR moment and he suddenly calls with perfect timing and everything came back…”, a knot formed in her throat and her voice broke against her will.

Timothée immediately placed his hands over her shoulders, ready to pull her again and protect her. Only God knew what he was capable of if that man placed a finger on her without consent.

“What? He did something to you?”

Even though her voice was now recovered, he could tell it wasn’t easy for her to talk about it.

“Not exactly. There’s a stupid site called Gossip Girl that makes public everything that happens on the Upper E…”

Her lower lip trembled, perhaps as a sign for trying to keep the calm. So he made a decision; no more pain.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to.” Alana fixed his eyes into his in utter silence. “This is your fresh start.”

“A fresh start.” She nodded.

“The past is on the past”, he gently grabbed her by the chin. “Don’t feel you gotta tell me everything that happened before we met… Let’s make a deal, okay? Like… Hakuna Matata.”

She chuckled. And this relieved him in more than one way.

“No worries, no bad experiences, just today. Present is all that matters.”

“That sounds promising”, she said with a soft smile spreading across her face.

His thumb caressed her chin while both stared straight into each other’s eyes.

“It does, yeah. So… deal?”

“Deal.”

Timothée holded her right hand and kissed it as he promised himself he would never let her go.

---------------

The Palace. Present Day.

The terrace was crowded by those distinguished guests who were, in Mrs. Howarth’s opinion, indispensable to celebrate her daughter’s return.

Tom had arrived earlier than everyone hoping she’d come with her mother. But she didn’t. People started arriving and there was no sight of her. He was sitting at the Palace hotel bar, taking a sip of scotch as he tried not to check his phone again. One hour. One hour late to her own party.

Just when he was about to believe she wouldn’t come; a waiter tinkled a glass to gain everyone’s attention and music stopped. His mother and Margot Howarth stood mid-stairs with a microphone each in their right hand.

“Good evening”, his mother said.

“Thank you for being here, it’s a pleasure for us to…”

Margot’s voice was in the background while Tom kept glancing in every direction to see if Alana was around. But the face he recognized from the pictures made him grip his scotch glass a little too tight; Timothée Chalamet. What was he doing here?

“Well, she doesn’t really need an introduction. Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter Alana Howarth.”

The words resonated in his ears as Tom instinctively turned his face at the stairs. Everyone clapped joyfully.

“Thank you, mom. And thank you, Mrs. Holland. I’m so glad for being here with all of you…”

Still not a minute went by when her voice seemed to have everyone under a spell, as always. Her charm to connect with people had always been her strongest gift.

“…hope to rejoin the Olivia Howarth Charity Foundation and serve our people as it’s meant to be”

More claps. People loved her benevolent soul.

As she walked down the stairs, Alana made eye contact with Tom, but she looked away almost immediately, paying attention to Blair Waldorf and the couple talking with her.

***

Wind wasn’t blowing in Tom’s favor.

Alana had done everything in her power to keep herself busy eating canapes and talking about the beautiful flowers or the dress of Mrs. Perkins with every guest. With this luck, the night would end before he could approach her.

The clock read 9:40 p.m; it was now or never. Tom walked towards Serena van der Woodsen who was standing with a group of people, however when she saw from the corner of her eye her godson, she excused herself and turned to meet him.

“Auntie, I need your help”, Tom said handing her a glass of champagne.

“What is it, Tommy?”

She stared at him with a worried look on her face.

“You see that guy over there?” He glanced at Timothée’s direction talking with Chuck Bass and a couple more businessman. “I need you to distract him so I can have a word with Alana.”

“Oh, I saw him today with Chuck Bass. He’s his nephew.”

“I know. Would you talk to him while I’m with her, please?”

“He’s not with Alana, why don’t you just simply ask her?”

His eyes traveled the whole room.

“It’s… complicated, auntie S.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it, but please Tom don’t make a scene”, Serena placed one hand over her godson’s elbow. “It’s classic of Gossip Girl haunting for something in parties like this one.”

He nodded as putting on a smile and taking a step back from her.

“Don’t worry, auntie S.”

Serena went to the canape table and grabbed two, one for Chuck and one for her, then she headed up to their direction. Timothée welcomed her.

Fortunately, Alana was with a group of women who appreciated him very much. Confident of himself, he took a deep encouraging breath and he took three long strides to stand before her.

“Good evening, ladies.”

A couple of them raised their eyebrows, but they welcomed him nicely.

“Oh Tom dear, we were just talking about high school.”

“Thank God we graduated”, he chuckled, and the group joined him in his polite laugh. His charm might not be as powerful as hers, but it worked, and he used it. After the laugh faded, he cleared his throat. “Alana may I have a word?”

He got her. Fuck. The only thing left for her was nod and force a smile.

“Excuse me.”

Tom led her to a balcony away from the party, not without looking around to make sure no one saw them. In the midst of nervousness and excitement, Tom missed a pair of green eyes watching from the other side of the terrace.

Once outside, Alana turned to face him; she wasn’t chickening out this time.

“Tom, please don’t do this.”

He raised his hands as an innocent man would do in front of a cop.

“I just have to say something, please”

Her eyes were locked on his while she shook her head as if begging him not to press his finger over the wound.

“Don’t, don’t go there.”

“You just need to hear it.” He took one step to be closer to her, and when his mouth opened his voice had a soft sound. “I’m sorry, Alana. For that night. I never wanted to disrespect you or make you feel so bad for you to leave the city and…”

“I didn’t leave because of that!”, she cut him off.

His lips parted, looking genuinely confused. She shut her eyes for a brief moment before letting go a tired sigh.

“Jesus! What happened was the drop that spilled the glass. One day I woke up and… I didn’t want my life to be the way it had been with Gossip Girl shouting every party I hosted or even if I sniffed.” Alana swallowed hard and prayed her courage wouldn’t let her voice fail. “I… thought it’d be enough if I just stayed at the edge, but on Valentine’s…”, a complex mixture of rage and sadness were threatening to crack her voice, but she collected herself before tears flood her eyes. “The very person I cared the most about… showed me this world wasn’t for me cause no one would be truly a friend.”

She let the words hit him as she bit her lower lip in a last attempt not to cry. It still hurt.

“And, you know the rest.”

Silence set between the two of them. Tom was shattered; she had trusted him, and he failed her. He failed. And her words explained a lot of things but one. Tom tried to swallow the knot that formed in his throat.

“So, why you came back?”

“My aunt Blair told me Gossip Girl’s gift for Upper East Side grads was a clean slate for college. That’s why I’m here. A new beginning in New York, with my family.”

“I called you a thousand times and you were mad with me.”

Alana exhaled loudly and her rage seemed to come back for a second.

“I was, right. I knew you had feelings for me, and that night I expected you’d do something. And you did, but under alcohol’s effect. In front of the whole class with their phones out.”

“And I would never forgive myself for that”

Once more, Alana shut her eyes trying to control herself. When she got it, her eyes opened with a calmer pace and saw a dark knight walking towards them. Tom had his back to him and didn’t feel him coming.

“The past is in the past, Tom. Wish you a good life.” She administered the coup de grâce.

“Alana, please…”

Tom lifted his right hand to caress her arm. But Timothée’s hand stepped in the way, pushing his hands away before he could touch her.

Alana rolled her eyes, tired of this drama. She glanced at both men and moved a strand of hair out of her face.

“My dad should be wondering where I am”, she said as she brushed past Timothée making his shoulder move.

As soon as she left, Tom pushed sharply away Timothée’s hand with pursed lips and clenched jaw.

“Who the fuck you think you are to interrupt us?”

Timothée stared at him with a quirked eyebrow, challenging him as a mocking smile threatened to set free at the corner of his lips.

“Would say it was over before I came.”

“Listen to me you…”

But his sarcastic feature changed in a blink of an eye into serious, taking a step closer to him.

“No, YOU listen to me; you got your opportunity and you lost it.”

“Use your words carefully, you’re not in Monte Carlo anymore”, Tom warned him.

“Yeah, that’s what Google Maps says”, Timothée raised his eyebrows as he nodded with a smile.

“Alana would’ve never trusted you if she knew every thing I know about you”, Holland furrowed his eyes while putting his hands inside his pocket.

“And you think she’d believe a word you say?”, Chalamet scoffed. “Wake up, Thomas. She’s not under your mercy anymore.” He enjoyed the face Holland made, speechless. “Do yourself a favor and move on.”

Though, the prince reminded himself his advantage.

“You don’t know her at all. No matter how much time you’ve spent together, the good stuff is on the details and that’s something you won’t get.”

This hit Chalamet hard.

“Are you threating me?”, the European king asked sounding annoyed.

“I’m warning you”, now Tom used Chalamet’s same attitude with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

The atmosphere got heavier as both young men stared at each other with rage overflowing from their auras. But before one could do anything else, Nate Archibald walked towards them with a drink in his right hand.

“Tom? Here you are. Serena’s been looking for you. She’s inside.”

Whether Serena was indeed looking for him or not, Nate prevented him from making a scene and so, Tom had nothing to do but walk away with Nate.

“Thanks”

Alone, Timothée stared at the amazing view.

“New York, New York”

---------------

The identity of the mysterious airport handsome man was revealed; Timothée Chalamet. But our prince is not delighted by his presence. Looks like Manhattan’s Elite might quake with their outstanding chemistry to light a bomb up.

Alana, you did have fun in your year out… Enjoy your clean slate. I know it won’t take much time for you to dirt them up.

You know you love me, XOXO

Gossip Girl.

TAG LIST: (tagged those who asked but feel free to let us know if you want to be removed or added)

@clairesrainbow; @noobmaster63; @claryaki; @silverscreenkid; @vogueworthy-barnes; @persefoneaurispa ; @izdevett ; @mae-petite-etoile ; @tpwkal; @meliketozier; @aliceinwhateverland; @justcallmenameless; @kathrynisadogperson; @loricwizardbluetoastedcake; @vintageroses1014516; @im-not-edgy-im-just-pretentious; @xlilmultiimaginesworld; @sunnygubler; @agentcvrters; @adorablehumanbeing; @goingwiththewind; @rachel-mc11; @candycxorn; @bruvberta; @justficsandstuff

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lemonflavouredspatula · 5 years

Text

I'm supposed to be working on my other fic but i have no self control and then this happened so enjoy

---

Billy had never seen Steve in the pool.

He was there every weekend with that group of little rats, sitting on the side like a good mother hen, watching and observing as they played in the pool. He'd buy them ice cream and look after their bags, sitting on that same sun lounger, under the same red umbrella. His hair was always fluffy, his skin far too pale for someone who spent every weekend sitting out here basking in the same sun. Those ray bans he seemed to love so much perched atop his nose, shielding his eye line from anyone who cared enough to notice.

The kids would all laugh, chuck comments back at Steve, he'd join in from his seat.

But Billy had never once seen Steve dip in even a toe.

He didn't understand it. The idiot paid the entry fee and spent the entire time sitting and guarding a pile of towels and clothing that were never going to be stolen in the first place. Surely he wanted to join in?

That thought was what got Billy up off his chair and walking towards Steve. Well, that and the fact that after that particular night at the Byers', Billy had felt he owed Steve more than just an apology and somewhere along the way, they'd developed a somewhat kind of friendship, or that's what Billy was calling it anyways.

"Not joining the little rats, Harrington?" Billy teased, swaggered to a stop under the same umbrella Steve perched himself under week after week.

"Hey Hargrove." Steve replied, ignored the question at hand.

Steve's skin reflected the red material of the umbrella, made him look burnt even though he hadn't spent more than a few seconds in the direct rays of the blazing summer sun. Small brown moles littered his arms, his legs, face.

"Busy?" Steve asked, dragged Billy from his staring. He could see Steve's eye line through his glasses from here.

"Nah, there's a surprising lack of little shits trying to kill themselves and each other today. Quite disappointing if you ask me."

Steve let out a soft chuckle.

"Only you would be disappointed at the lack of disaster in a public pool."

"This town could do with a cleanse." Billy said it so nonchalantly, face set so hard that if Steve didn't know Billy as well as he did, he might think he was actually being serious.

"Don't say shit like that too loud, you'll get sacked."

"They won't sack me, i'm too good at my job."

"No, Billy. Every kid here is just far too terrified to misbehave incase you get down off that high arse chair of yours and fucking drown them."

Billy just looked down at Steve, shit eating grin spread wide across his face. Of course, Billy considered that as being good at his job, Steve really should have guessed.

A scream was heard over the laughter and chatter in and around the pool. Billy missed the haunted look that found its way deep into Steve's eyes, his head whipping round so fast because he actually gave a damn about his job thank you.

"Excuse me Harrington, I have a kid to go and drown." Billy said, grin wide on his face again. Steve smiled back, let out a laugh that was far too empty but Billy was already walking away. Didn't see the way Steve's whole body had tensed since the sounding of a scream let out in fun.

---

Next weekend Steve brought a magazine. Well, a comic Billy realised as he walked around to where he was sitting, thought it must have been one of the kids'.

"What ya reading?"

"X-men, Dustin gave me little choice." Billy laughed, knew Steve well enough to know he'd asked to borrow it.

"You're becoming one of the nerds, Harrington. You should be careful." Billy poked, smirked down at Steve.

"That a bad thing?" He asked, looked back up at Billy, caught his eyes even from behind those ridiculous sunglasses. And Billy stopped, his breath hitching, his heart beating in double time. No, he wanted to say, it's not a bad thing. It was endearing in all honesty, Billy liked that Steve was this soft, caring, nerdy mother hen. Was almost jealous in a way. He'd always loved the superheroes, had gotten lost in them as a kid, his mother bringing him a new magazine home every week. He'd be beaten to a pulp if that was a known fact now. Neil had burnt them all weeks after she'd died.

Steve smirked, "thought not."

Billy coughed, gathered himself back together, stopped staring into those deep brown eyes hidden by a layer of black plastic.

"Joining them for a swim today?"

"Nah, i've just put suncream on, don't want it to wash off." There was an emptiness behind Steve's words, Billy didn't read too much into it, figured Steve just didn't want to.

"Well, enjoy your comic, Harrington. I gotta go yell at some kids."

"You do little else." He said, joked, went back to reading under that same umbrella.

Billy walked away chuckling to himself, his heart a little warmer than before. --- "Don't you have your own pool?" Billy asked a few weekends later, strolling over to lean against the sun lounger Steve had once again perched himself on.

"It's being cleaned." Steve said, tipping his sun glasses onto his head, turning to look at Billy. Steve had been bringing the kids here for weeks, Billy knew for a fact it didn't take that long to clean a pool, but there was something about the way Steve said it, something about the look in his eye that made Billy take those words at face value, made him not question the obvious.

"You've got something on your face."

"Huh?"

"You've got something on your face." Steve repeated, looking up at Billy.

"Where?" Billy asked, hand rubbing all over his face.

"There," Steve said, pointed towards the side of Billy's mouth.

Billy swiped his cheek, successfully missing the tiny little crumb on the corner of his mouth.

"Did I get it?" Billy asked, looking at Steve.

"No, it's," Steve started, getting up from the lounger to stand in front of Billy. He brought his hand up, cupped the side of Billy's chin.

"Can I?" Steve asked, tilted his head towards his face. Billy just nodded, lost in the touch and the electricity sparking from Steve's fingertips, sending shocks straight to his heart. His hand was warm, soft, gentle in all the right places. He stroked his thumb across the corner of Billy's lips, getting rid of whatever crumb Billy had left there on his lunch break. Billy was completely lost in Steve's touch, staring at his face, watching as his eyes followed the movements of his hand, saw them flick up to Billy's. Neither spoke, just stared at each other, Steve's hand still resting firm on his cheek.

"Got it." Steve said, barely above a whisper.

"Thanks." Billy replied, feeling Steve's hand follow the movement of his jaw. Neither moved.

"STEVE!" Dustin's voice carried through the laughter and chatter all around the pool.

Steve's hand fell from Billy's cheek, a slight grin on his face. Billy cleared his throat, smiled back.

"What?" Steve shouted back at Dustin.

"Can we have ice cream?" he asked, grinning wide.

"You never ask that, why are you asking that?" Steve asked, knowing they'd all usually just tell him they were going to get some from the small shack at the front of the pool, never give him a chance to say no.

"I kind of maybe forgot to bring extra money." Dustin explained, far too casually for someone who was asking for money to be spent on him.

"Tell me why I ever agreed to look after these shits?" Steve sighed, turned back around to Billy. Billy just laughed.

"Hell if I know." Steve chuckled, leant down to get some money from his bag.

"I'm going to kill him." He said it under his breath, but Billy heard, laughed.

"Want some help?"

"Thanks, but I need to do this on my own." Steve said, strong, stoic, determination settling across his face. Billy burst out laughing as Steve walked away.

--- None of them turned up the next week, and Billy tried to tell himself that the feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't disappointment. In the same way he was now trying to convince himself that his heart beating in double time in his chest at the sight of Steve walking into the pool alone did not mean he was happy to see him.

He watched for a while, kept his sunglasses firm over his eyes. No one could see his eye line from up here. No one could see him staring at Steve every chance he got. He wasn't reading anything today, just lying back, enjoying the sun's heat as it broke through every seam in the umbrella always resting over him. They saw each other during the week sometimes, met up at the quarry to just talk, talk, drink and talk. They'd gotten closer, as much as Billy tried to deny it. He was sure he was reading too much into it, they were just friends. That was it. It didn't matter that Billy wanted more.

Since that night at the Byers', Billy had made it his mission to be nice to this whole group that he was being welcomed into nonetheless. They'd all welcomed him with open arms, forgiven him, told him what the hell had been going on. It had taken him a few hours to get his head around, but if he was going to be dragged out of California by his stupid dad, then a stupidly small town filled with monsters and Steve Harrington was the only compromise he thought he could ever make.

"Hey." He'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Steve walking over to him. He did a quick sweep of the pool to make sure he hadn't missed a child drowning. Steve was far too distracting.

"Hey." He replied when he was sure no one was in any immediate danger.

"What time do you get off?" Steve asked, nonchalant, looked up at Billy. And that wasn't fair, that did things to Billy's heart that he really didn't want to happen. It was bad enough falling for a guy, but falling for a straight one in a town like this was a thousand times worse.

"Billy?" Steve interrupted his whirlwind of thoughts.

"Uh, six. Why?"

"Joyce is doing dinner, invited us all along. You in?"

"Yeah of course, what time?"

"Seven."

"I'll be there." Billy said with a familial warmth he'd never experienced before he'd been adopted into this weird monster hunting family.

"Good." Steve said, definite, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a stress had been blown into the breeze, dumped at the bottom of the pool packed with people.

"Can i interest you in a swim today, princess?" Billy said, used the nickname he knew, deep down, Steve didn't completely hate. Steve looked up at him, raised an eyebrow not dissimilar from when they'd pushed each other around at school, before that night, laughed.

"Too many people in there today." He answered, a finality to his words. Billy didn't question it, he just nodded, agreed. The pool was packed, they'd had to close the doors to stop people coming in, the rare Hawkins summer heat a major attraction.

"Where are all of your little ducklings? Thought they'd be desperate for the pool on a day like this."

"They started Dungeons and Dragons yesterday and never got the chance to finish, that took priority."

"Nerdy little shits." Steve laughed.

"You love them really." And that was the thing, Billy did. Even Dustin when he took all of Steve's attention from him to make some ridiculous comment. He'd chuck himself in front of any otherworldly creature that so much as threatened any of them and that wasn't a realisation Billy had been ready to have.

He missed the small smile that crept onto Steve's face as he watched the emotions crossing Billy's.

"I should probably let you get back to work, can't be the reason some poor kid drowns because you were too busy chatting to me."

I like talking to you is what he wanted to say, I don't mind you staying is what he probably should have said, instead he just nodded at Steve as he waved, walked back to the sun lounger under that red umbrella that wasn't his, but everyone knew it was where he sat on a Saturday afternoon. Steve walking to the other side of the pool didn't exactly make Billy more focused on preventing drowning and fighting in the pool, it just meant that now he was looking over the crowds of people to get a glimpse, rather than down beside his life guarding chair.

Steve was lying back, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses down over his eyes. He watched as a few people came over to chat to him, old mates from school, others he knew through living in such a small town. He was friendly, but not overly so, not even to the few girls that came up and were obviously flirting. Billy would have blown his whistle if 'stop flirting with the straight guy i like' wasn't the only reason he had for wanting to kick them out.

Billy glanced over every now and again, kept his sunglasses firm on his face, stared a little too long. He wasn't the only one working today, he told himself he didn't need to be on the ball, that spending four minutes in every five staring at Steve and the other one to glare at children was perfectly acceptable. Especially when the sun was reflecting off of Steve's pale skin and making him look like a shimmering orb floating across from him. He was captivating, to say the least. He couldn't tear his gaze away even though he knew he should.

Steve stayed longer this time than usual, sitting on that lounger, occasionally getting up and walking around the pool, chatting to a few different people, getting himself and Billy an ice cream on his break. But he never once got into the pool, no matter how much the population of the pool dwindled into the late afternoon. Billy couldn't understand why, he'd spent his entire day on the edge of a pool he'd paid an entry fee to swim in.

Soon the pool was closing and Billy walked over to Steve, still sitting on that lounger.

"Pool's closing, Harrington."

"I know, figured we could go to Joyce's together?" Billy's heart stammered to a stop in his chest. Steve wasn't asking him to dinner, but his stupid hung up heart sure as hell made him feel like he was.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to." Steve said, quieter, shy, Billy's face still blank in expression.

"Yes. I mean, i do want to. But what about your car?" Billy choked out, stumbled over his words in an attempt to convince Steve that he absolutely did want to go there with him.

"Oh, i walked here, needed the fresh air." Steve said, looked away from Billy. There was something behind that comment, Billy could tell. He didn't press.

"Well, i just need to clear a few things up here. You can jump in if you want, have the whole pool to yourself, perk of knowing me that." Billy joked, winked, made the offer to Steve. But Steve didn't reply, just stared at the water in dread. And Billy did catch it that time, that haunted look, the way Steve's breathing quickened in pace, the way his hand trembled by his side and he realised that maybe it wasn't that Steve just didn't want to get in the pool, but maybe he was actually scared of it.

"Hey." He said, tried to get his attention. But Steve was still staring at the pool.

He reached an arm out, went to rest it on his shoulder. He'd barely made contact when Steve literally jumped where he stood. His eyes flew to Billy's, panic set hard and fast and obvious.

"Hey, Steve. It's okay." Billy said, ignored his use of Steve's first name. Steve just kept staring at him, eyes pleading for something, anything other than what was going through his mind. So Billy stepped forward, slowly wrapped his arms around Steve, pulled him in tight. They didn't get all touchy and feely often, but Billy had cried on Steve's shoulder once. They were comfortable enough in each other's company to show the more vulnerable side they both hid so well.

"It's okay. Breathe. Follow me." Billy whispered, told Steve to breathe in, then out, then in, then out, over and over until Steve's breathing regulated, got a little deeper. Till he could manage on his own.

"Better?" Billy asked gently as he pulled back, caught Steve's eye line.

"Yeah, thanks." It was shaky and quiet and not at all quite there, but there was colour back on Steve's cheeks and a little life back in his eyes. He was okay.

"We're going now."

"I thought you had to clean up?"

"Heather can do it, she owes me one anyway."

Steve was still a little shaky on his feet as they walked to Billy's car, Billy shouting over his shoulder at Heather so she knew to lock up. They got in and Billy looked over at Steve, knew whatever it was that had caused everything was still bothering Steve.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not yet." And Billy could accept that. Knew Steve would tell him when he was ready.

---

To say Billy was shocked when he saw Steve following all of the kids into the pool the next weekend was an understatement to say the least. Steve had told him everything about Barb, how she'd all but died in his pool thanks to this other world that was apparently within touching distance of them at all times. He'd told him how it haunted him, how he couldn't go near his pool anymore, how he had to keep the curtains shut so he couldn't see it. He'd told him about his dreams, the nightmares, the ones where he saw everyone he loved being dragged to the bottom of that pool, how he'd never be able to save them. Billy hated himself for wondering if any of them had been about him. But he hadn't expected him to turn up for a week or two at least.

"Hey nerds." Billy said as he walked over to the group, no animosity behind his words. Various hellos were thrown back at him, ranging in level of heartfelt insult, but Billy did nothing but smile back at the 6 smiles thrown his way, watch as they all dumped their stuff on Steve and run and jump into the pool. He was supposed to blow his whistle on that and they knew it, but Billy turned a blind eye, pretended he hadn't seen, turned to Steve.

"You okay?" He asked, concern lacing his words.

"Yeah." Steve replied, convincing enough that Billy wasn't worried.

"Sure?"

Steve met his eyes, nodded, smiled, "I'm fine, i've got you for a lifeguard."

Billy tried to pick through every possible meaning of that sentence and didn't find a single outcome that didn't make his heart swoon. So he smiled, laughed, made a friendly hit to Steve's shoulder, walked back over to his chair. He kept watch on him today, not just because he wasn't exactly an eyesore, but to make sure he spotted any sign of panic if it were to set in again, made sure he'd be able to run over and get Steve out of whatever situation was triggering it.

It was exactly 34 minutes later when Steve got up and went over to talk to Tommy, Carol and a group of other people Billy recognised from school. He didn't think much of it, Steve was friendly to everyone, even those he hadn't seen eye to eye with last year. They laughed, joked around with each other, caught up on anything they'd missed since they'd last seen each other. Billy only caught snippets of the conversation, tried not to eavesdrop. Maybe if he had he'd have heard Tommy teasing Steve about going into the pool. Maybe he'd have seen the subtle glimpse of panic starting to creep its way onto Steve's face.

He looked around just as Steve turned away from the group, went to walk away. Watched as Tommy stepped forward, put his hand to Steve's back and pushed. He didn't manage to blow his whistle until Steve had already lost his footing, jumped down from his seat as his body met the water's surface. He ran through the people and the chairs and the umbrellas, leapt into the water, barely heard the laughs and shouts of "he's fine, Hargrove!" from Tommy's group.

The sound dissipated once he was underwater, the laughs and the shouts and the voices from above nothing but a distant echo, his focus on Steve and Steve entirely. He could see him ahead, watched as everything moved in slow motion, felt the water pushing back against his every move, as if it didn't want him to reach Steve in time. He pushed through, used every bit of strength he could muster to get close enough to hold Steve, drag him back up beyond the water's surface. He could see that his eyes were shut, didn't care how much the chlorine stung his, could see how limp his limbs were as he sunk further and further into the depths of the pool. He felt his heart breaking.

Relief shot through him when his fingers made contact with his waist, created a whole new push of strength to Billy's movements and he kicked his feet as hard and fast as he possibly could, motivated by saving Steve, nothing more and nothing less.

Everything seemed to get louder, faster, more urgent as he broke from the water's surface. He heard the screams and the panic, ignored what the voices were saying. Focused on Steve. He pushed his limp body onto the floor, lifted himself out of the pool, hung over him, checked if he was breathing. No. Checked if his heart was beating. No. Started compressions in the way he'd had days of training to perfect.

One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four.

Training was all well and good until you had to transfer those skills from a lifeless dummy to the boy you were falling in love with hard and fast.

One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four.

Nothing.

Hold nose. Breathe.

It wasn't how he'd ever pictured having his lips on Steve's but somehow none of that mattered anymore. All he cared about was saving him. Saving Steve.

One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four. Hold nose. Breathe. A crowd had begun to gather around them. Billy shouted at them all to give him space, didn't dare look around to see the kids' faces, didn't know if he could take it.

One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four. Hold nose. Breathe.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was watching Steve die in front of him. Tried to ignore the fact that he was basically, in all medical terms, already dead.

He checked his pulse. Nothing.

Leant down to check his breathing. Nothing.

He was so pale.

One and two and three and four. One and two and three and four. Hold nose. Breathe.

Steve coughed, choked up some water, relief shot through Billy. He sat him up, hit his back a couple of times, made sure he could breathe again.

Cheers and applause erupted around them and Billy wanted to kill them all, especially Tommy. Steve had almost died. This wasn't a celebration.

Billy picked him up, shouted at Heather to call an ambulance, carried him through to the changing rooms, sat him down on one of the benches. He knelt in front of him, rested his hands on his knees.

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit." Steve's voice was hoarse, broken in places. But it was his voice. Billy hadn't been sure he was ever going to hear it again. He ignored the sting in his eyes, looked up at Steve.

"I'm going to kill Tommy." Billy said, whispered under his breath, anger seeping into every syllable.

"No you're not."

"He almost killed you Steve."

"It was an accident. I'm okay."

"But you nearly weren't."

"You saved me."

And Billy had, but it didn't feel like it. He hated himself for not looking sooner, for not realising what was happening before it was.

"Hey," Steve said as if he could hear the thoughts running at a thousand miles through his mind, brought a hand up to Billy's cheek, "there was nothing more you could have done."

"I'm sorry." Billy said. Steve rubbed his thumb over Billy's cheek. There was colour to his face now, a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks.

"Where are the kids?"

Almost as if on cue, Heather poked her head around the corner, told them the ambulance was outside.

"You've got some visitors if that's okay?" She asked, directed it at Steve, "i took them away as soon as i saw what was going on."

Steve nodded, the expression on his face one of thankfulness and appreciation.

All of a sudden twelve feet ran into the room, stopped in front of Steve and six voices all started asking if he was okay.

"Hey, give him some space okay? He's alright but he needs to get checked out at the ambulance. Why don't you go with him?" Billy said, broke them apart for a few seconds before they were all nodding, leading Steve out to the front of the building. He was steady on his feet Billy noticed as he turned his head just before he went round the corner, smiled at Billy in a way that screamed 'thank you'.

Then Billy was on his own and it was like the reality of what had just happened hit him, the seriousness of the situation and how close he was to losing Steve bared clear in front of him and he lost it, broke down on the floor of the changing room. He could barely control his breathing, tears flowing uncontrollably from his eyes, sobs wracking his entire body. His hands were shaking, his legs collapsed beneath him.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, wasn't paying attention to anything until he heard a distant "hey' directed at him. He couldn't look up, too lost in the sight of Steve lying dead in front of him on the concrete floor of the pools edge.

"Hey." He heard again, slightly louder this time.

"Billy!" It sounded familiar, like someone he should be listening to. He felt a hand on his arm, felt it shake him a little.

"Billy?" It was gentler that time, calmer. Billy looked up, could just make out the shape of Steve through blurred vision, "what's wrong?"

Billy leapt forward and grabbed Steve, wrapped his arms firmly around his shoulders, let tears drip down onto them.

"I thought you were going to die." He whispered, felt Steve's arms embrace him tighter.

"You saved me Billy. I'm alive." Steve whispered back, lump present in his throat, tears threatening to spill from the place they stayed hidden.

Steve felt a few more sobs as they vibrated through Billy's body, held him tight until he was sure he could move back and look into Billy's eyes.

"Thank you." He said, and Billy knew he meant it.

"Don't do that again."

"I promise i don't want to." Steve quipped, quirked the corner of his mouth into a slight smirk. Billy smiled back.

"You okay?" Billy asked.

"No," It was honest, "you?"

"No."

They both fell back into the hug at the same time, held on so tight it was almost a promise, 'i won't let you go'.

Steve heard Billy sniff a few times, held him tighter. Billy felt Steve's hands tremble slightly, pulled him closer.

And they stayed there, on the floor of the Hawkins public pool changing room, holding each other until they felt strong enough to stand again on their own.

---

Later that night, after they'd spent hours in silence and then crying and then hugging and then talking, drowning out everything from the past few hours in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, Steve leant over to Billy.

"I heard you had to give me mouth to mouth."

"I did."

"Not quite how i imagined our first kiss." Billy was too drunk to think too much into that. Too drunk to remember that up until that second he thought Steve was straight and very much just a friend.

"Me neither."

"I don't remember it."

"It wasn't great."

Steve turned to Billy, Billy met his eyes. They both stared at each other, lost in a gaze that spoke a thousand words and none all at the same time.

"Want to try again?" Steve asked, edging closer to Billy, putting a hand on his thigh.

Billy didn't respond, instead put a hand on the side of Steve's face, brushed his lips on his, "only if it won't be the last time," he whispered, the words ghosting over Steve's lips. Steve answered by closing the millimetre of distance between them and kissing Billy for real. He felt Billy melt into it, felt the need to get closer, to be sure Steve wasn't going to slip away. Felt the emotions of the day fly through the air and wrap around them, coating them like a blanket, pushing them closer together.

They hadn't forgotten what had happened earlier, nor anything from all of the days before. But all of a sudden they knew they didn't have to gather the strength to stand alone through it anymore, because there would always be someone helping them back up, or at least sitting by their side until it didn't seem so hard to stand and face it all again.

And maybe they woke up the next morning in the same bed, limbs tangled together in a mess of skin and duvet and discarded clothing. Maybe Billy turned to Steve and smiled, pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around his waist and maybe Steve kissed the top of his head and snuggled in closer to him.

And maybe their next Saturday afternoon was filled with staring and flirting and making out in the changing room during Billy's break.

And maybe when they woke up a few weeks later, Steve saw Billy glancing longingly at the X-men comic sitting beside his bed, and maybe Steve wordlessly handed it to him, kissed him, laid back down in his bed.

And maybe Billy told Steve he loved him.

And maybe, just maybe, Steve told Billy he loved him too.

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