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pepper-up-potion · 3 years

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Humor me (George Weasley x fem!reader)

Summary: Reader can't stand George Weasley but over time she realizes he might be a good addition to her life.

Warnings: crying, angst, let me know if I missed any.

Word count: 5.5k (this is my longest fic so far!)

A/n: I still don't know how to feel about this. A part of me likes it and a part of me feels it could be better. This is my first enemies to lovers and it was very very fun.

———

“Thanks (y/n)! I can always count on you, you’re a lifesaver.” Shouts Neville as he runs down the hall and towards his next class. (Y/n) had helped him put healing salve and a bandage on his cut hand.

“Anytime!” She smiles as she watches him stumble away. She pulls out her book and sits back down on the windowsill.

“Humour me.” Says a foreign voice.

She looks up frowning. “I’m sorry?” She asks politely.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself?” Asks the red-haired boy.

“What are you talking about? I’m doing that right now.” She points to her book: Charms for first years

“That’s weird because I could’ve sworn you were in my charms class and not in first year.” He argues, shoving his hand in his pockets and clicking his tongue.

“Well I’m helping out a first-year next period but I enjoy doing that so I am doing something for myself.” She explains, slightly irritated.

“You can’t be serious?” He waits but she offers no response. She only lifts her nose at him. “That is not taking time for yourself. That’s preparing to help someone else.”

Her nostrils flare as she abruptly snaps her books shut. She shoves it into her bag before swinging it over her shoulder. She steps towards George. She suddenly realizes how tall he is. She gulps before placing a hand on her hip and pointing a finger at him.

“Listen here, helping other people is a very noble thing and if I wish to spend my free time doing that, I should not have to explain myself.”

“Ah, so you admit that you spend your free time helping other people rather than doing something for yourself?”

George smirks at her and she wants to slap it off his stupid pretty face.

“Wha-? No.” She huffs. “I don’t know why I’m arguing this with someone I hardly know but what I mean to say is that yes, it’s demanding and tedious but it’s also rewarding and the most gratifying thing I could ever do, so I believe I am doing something for myself. You just don’t get it because you spend all your time playing stupid pranks on everyone.” She snaps before pulling the strap of her bag further onto her shoulder and walking away. Normally she would feel bad for saying something like that to someone but for some reason she felt George could take it.

“So when will I see you again?” George shouts down the hall.

“I have to go!” She shouts back.

“I’ll see you in class then. Or maybe in the halls again.” He continues.

“Goodbye!” She turns the corner and speeds as far away from George as possible, steam practically fuming from her ears.

———

“Hey (y/n) could I just copy your homework before class? I didn’t have time to do it what with quidditch practice and all.” Asks Angelina.

(Y/n) nods and pulls out her answers, stands and walks to her seat, passing them to her. As (y/n) walks back she sees George slide into the spot next to hers. She grunts before stomping to her seat.

“ ‘Morning.” He sings, kicking his feet on the desk. She rolls her eyes and pushes his feet off, offering no other greeting. Now this is saying something, (y/n) always greets everybody. He laughs a little before turning to his bag and pulling out his textbook.

“Ark, couldn’t you go sit somewhere else?” She asks with a look of disgust.

George shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I could, but I’d like to think we’d make a good team and I’d like to test that theory.” He waves a pointed index as if to emphasize his point.

She shudders at the thought of having to work with him. It’s very likely they will, it often happens in potions class. (Y/n) is at the top of the class and she doubts Snape would have any objection to George working with her since she could easily bring up his grade. She sighs as Snape walks in and starts the lecture portion of the class.

“You will have the remaining hour to make your hiccoughing solution. Work with the person next to you.” With a wave of his arms everyone starts opening their textbook and discussing the potion.

To her surprise, George is really good at potions. Logically it makes sense because him and Fred are always creating new things but she never really thought it transferable to school. She watches, a little stunned as George quickly and skillfully goes through the steps of the potion. For the first time since she can last remember, she sits back instead of running the group. George occasionally asks her to cut something or extract oil from a root. She doesn’t argue, it’s sort of nice being told what to do rather than making all the decisions. She doesn’t tell him and refuses to think more of it because that’s not her proper role. She’s the leader, she’s the helper. Maybe this once she’ll let it slide, give herself a break.

Once the bell rings they gather their books and George finally speaks of other things than the potion.

“Relaxing isn’t it?” She tilts her head in confusion. “Not having to take care of others for once.” He continues.

Oh no he didn’t. He just ruined it. He took her small guilty moment of peace and crushed it. “You hardly let me do anything! What was I supposed to do? Fight you?”

George shrugs. “You could’ve.” He winks at her and she lets out an angry moan.

“Ark!” She turns on her heels and walks out of the class without another word.

“Same time next week?” She hears him shout but she’s already in the hallway and simply ignores him.

———

“You know you could give that to a house-elf and they could take care of that for you.” Says George as he leans into the door frame and watches (y/n) clean the chalkboard in the defence against the dark arts classroom.

“Well I don’t need to be taken care of, I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own thank you very much” she spits back at him.

George and her are acquaintances at best. It’s been a month since they’ve first spoken to each other. Since then he seems to always be around her. Sitting next to her in class, offering to help her with her books in the hall. She’s never asked for him to be there or to share his opinion. Yet he’s there and very verbal about his thoughts.

He steps into the class and sits in the front row. He bounces his leg under the desk and leans back into the chair. He looks nervous but she can tell he’s trying to cover it up.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Waiting for Umbridge.” He points up the stairs at the closed door of her office. “I got detention.” He adds.

“What did you do?” She stops cleaning the board and sets the cleaning potion on the desk next to George.

“Gave a ton tongue toffee to Filch. His tongue was four feet long when Umbridge found him.” He chuckles to himself, remembering Umbridge’s reaction.

For the first time ever, (y/n) laughs in front of George. She tries to hold it in but it slips past her. George first looks surprised but soon he’s laughing with her.

“Glad to see someone is standing up to them.” She shakes her head. “Umbridge really is a horrible person. I can't believe all the mean things she’s doing to the students.” Her face is sad. George can see how much she cares for the other students.

“Well, would you look at that? We actually agree on something.” He crosses his arms and smirks at her. “Does this mean we're friends?” He asks.

She barks out a loud laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Weasley.” She grabs her bag and walks out without another word. She can feel George’s gaze following her until she steps into the hall and out of sight. She wonders why her cheeks feel so hot suddenly.

———

(Y/n) is tutoring Seamus Finnigan in the library. They’re whispering over a book when George spots them. He smiles and beelines for their table.

“Mind if I sit here.” He asks, holding onto the chair in front of them. They both look up at him. Seamus smiles and reaches out his hand for a fist bump. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out.

“Yeah mate, it’s no problem.” Says Seamus.

“No, you may not. It is very much a problem.” She hisses. Seamus looks at her, shocked by the bitterness in her voice.

“Blimey (y/n), I’ve never heard you so angry before.” He stuns.

She laughs nervously. He’s right, she normally doesn’t talk to people like that. The only exception to the rule is George. She grits her teeth and pastes a smile before looking at George.

“Of course you can sit here George. Any friend of Seamus is a friend of mine.” She somehow manages to sound sweet and somewhat sincere. George raises his eyebrows in surprise. He quickly recollects himself and takes a seat before she changes her mind.

“So, going back to charms. Can you tell me the definition of the substantive charm?” She asks Seamus.

“How long have you been doing this?” George interrupts.

Seamus grabs (y/n)’s arm and reads her watch. He whistles dramatically. “Crickey, it’s been an hour and fifteen minutes. I think we should call it a day.” He grabs his book and bag and gets up. “Thanks again (y/n). See you next week.” And with that, he was off.

(Y/n)’s jaw clenches as she looks from the now empty chair to George.

“Why?” She groans. “Why would you do that?”

“This is great. He got his help and you get a break. What do you say we go down to the dungeon and pull a prank on Malfoy?” He beams at her, pleased with his idea.

She gets the sudden urge to scream. Who does he think he is? Coming into her life and ruining everything. It is quite likely that Seamus won't do as well on the quiz as if he had stayed for the extra fifteen minutes she had planned and now she has to go deal with Hermione who wanted to rant about Ron. Something which she had very much been putting off. She takes a long, deep breath before looking at George again. The urge to scream has faded with the breath but the look on his face makes her see red.

“Could you please, please, find someone else to annoy. I don’t have time for this and you’re really starting to test my patients.” She pleads.

George’s face drops, evidently displeased by her response. He stands from his chair and puts his bag strap over his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll leave.” He surrenders. There is a pause like he’s debating between leaving or adding another word. To (y/n)’s dissatisfaction, he continues to speak. “Anytime you need someone who doesn’t need help tutoring or homework to copy or healing salve, you know where to find me.”

She laughs loudly making everyone turn to look at her. “Pff yeah okay.” She dismisses, and with that George is turning away and walking out of the library.

She hates the sad feeling that settles in her chest. It’s like it’s telling her she wants him to stay. She rolls her eyes and swears to herself, gathering her things and heading to Hermione’s aid.

No matter how hard she tries not to, she spends the rest of the day thinking about George. His stupid face keeps popping into her head. What does he know? She likes when people ask for help. She is happy being the person people can turn to. She can’t understand what George thinks is wrong with that. Maybe he’s just a horrible person. It’s much easier to tell herself than to think there could be something wrong with her.

———

A week later (y/n) is knocking on Susan Bones’ door and stepping in before hearing a welcome.

“Merlin! I can’t stand him!” She shouts once in her best friend’s dorm room. Susan looks up from her book with her brows knitted.

“Who?” She asks while shutting her book and sitting up.

“George!” She states looking at Susan like she should have known. She shows no sign of further understanding (y/n)’s dilemma.

“Why?” She asks hesitantly. (Y/n) stomps to Susan’s bed and plops onto it.

“First he’s everywhere meddling into my life like it’s his business and now, radio silence.” She adds nothing more, leaving Susan even more confused.

“And that’s a problem because…”

(Y/n) sits up and flails her arms in the air. “Well, why did he make me question myself like that and then just vanish?” She exclaims exasperated.

Susan gapes, further confused. “But, didn’t you ask him to leave you alone?”

“Ark! That’s not the point!” She gets up and stomps out of the room. Susan blinks and looks around the room stunned even though there is no one to share the confusion with.

A moment later (y/n) is back into the room. “What on earth did he mean by if ever you want someone who doesn’t need help, you know where to find me?” She puts her hands on her hips and waits for her friend’s answer. Susan’s eyes light up and she smiles slightly. Now it’s (y/n)’s turn to look confused.

“He said that?” Asks Susan with a hopeful tone.

“Wha- I- Well yes he did but-.” She stops. Susan has left her stunned, she’s too confused to debate.

Susan’s smile grows wider. “Have you heard about Dombledors army?” She asks.

(Y/n) scrunches her nose. “No. What does that have to do with this?”

“Well I think you should come to our next meeting.” Her smile is mischievous, (y/n) hates it.

———-

The next day Susan takes (y/n) to the seventh floor. She stops in the middle of the hall and passes back and forth in front of a stone wall. Soon a door appears in front of them and (y/n) smiles, amazed by the castle's secrets.

Susan is the first to walk in waving at a few people near the door. Once (y/n) follows through the room goes silent. Harry finally walks up to them, hand stretched out.

“Welcome to the army.” He says confidently. She looks to Susan who gives her an encouraging nod. She finally accepts Harry’s hand with a small yet nervous smile.

As she looks around the room she feels a pair of eyes on her. She turns to find George looking at her with a neutral face. She lets out a little screech and turns back to Susan.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be here!” (Y/n) whispers with a panicked tone.

“Well if I did you wouldn’t have come.” She states simply before walking off to talk with one of the other girls.

“Alright everyone. I think we’ll get started.” Announces Harry. Everyone goes quiet and they quickly form a half-circle around him. She sees a tall man settle next to her in her peripheral. She can just make out a flash of red hair. Her heart starts beating at an unruly pace.

“Today’s focus is on stunning. Nigel and I are going to do a demonstration so watch closely.” Everyone moves to the sides of the room whispering excitedly.

(Y/n) claps her hand over her mouth as she watches Harry fly backwards after being stunned by Nigel. She lets out a relieved sigh when Harry sits back up.

“I’d like to see you do that.” Whispers George into her ear. She jumps a little as his hot breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine.

She turns to look at him. She has no snarky answer. She just gapes at him in surprise.

“I’d like to see you stand up for yourself for once.” He adds. She huffs in shock.

“I-“ She starts but Harry cuts her off. “Who wants to go next?” He asks.

“(Y/n) and I will go.” Announces George. She freezes as everyone eyes them curiously.

“Maybe someone else would like to go before us.” She tries.

“Nonsense, go on (y/n).” Says Harry enthusiastically. “No one here will judge you.” He adds thinking that’s her concern.

It’s not that she didn’t want to defend herself, it’s just she felt sort of bad stunning someone. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do it. She walks to one end of the room and George to the other. He stretches out his arm, wand at the ready. She looks at Susan with a pleading look. Susan gives her an impatient nod and (y/n) reluctantly lifts her wand.

Neither of them moves, the room is completely silent. Soon there are whispers in the crowd. George is looking at (y/n) with a challenging eye. She gulps, trying to convince herself to stun him. She thinks that maybe if she does nothing he’ll grow impatient and stun her. That way she wouldn’t have to do it and he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of getting what he really wants.

“Right, any second now. Go ahead.” Says Harry slowly.

Nothing happens. George slumps out of his stans and raises his arms in the air. “Oh c’mon (y/n) stun me!” He exclaims.

She looks at the crowd as they all stare back at her. She suddenly feels weak in the knees. She begins to sweat nervously and looks at Susan. She looks a little concerned, maybe thinking this wasn’t as good an idea as she first thought. She still gives her a weak encouraging smile and a little thumbs up. (Y/n) looks back at George who has his arms stretched out taunting her.

“Oh for once in your life be mean!” He shouts. The words echo in the room.

“I can be plenty mean!” She disputes. “Last week, I ate Susan’s cookie.” She adds, puffing her chest.

George tries to hold back his smile. She hears a couple giggles in the crowd.

“That is not mean.” His tone is adoring and she hates it.

“It was her favourite brand.” She adds trying to make it sound more horrific. She’s the only one in the room with a serious face. Everyone else is smiling enjoying the tense exchange between the two.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “If it’s anything, it’s cute.” He says with a wink. There it is. There’s the final straw. She can feel her blood boil. Everyone holds their breath as they watch her face contort into an angry pout. George smiles wide thinking the pout is possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

She lets out an angry grunt. “It is not cute! You wanna see cute? Watch this.” She flicks her wand and shouts: “Stupify!” The spell sends George across the room. Everyone exclaims as he hits the ground with a thud.

“Excellent! Really good (y/n)!” Exclaims Harry.

Across the room George is whooping. He runs over to her with arms wide open. His smile is contagious, she can’t stop hers from pulling at her cheeks. Laughs spill from her lips as he wraps her tightly into his arms. Fred helps George throw her over their shoulders. Everyone gathers around them and cheers. (Y/n) feels her cheeks go hot suddenly, very aware of George’s hand on her thigh keeping her in place. She looks at everyone’s happy smiles and she can't help but join in. She hates to admit it but George might have been right. Standing up for yourself can feel good.

———

It’s a Wednesday evening. Most people were already back in their common rooms. (Y/n) was walking back from the library, having finished another tutoring session with Zacharias Smith. The halls are practically deserted when she suddenly hears quiet sobs further away. She speeds her pace and turns the corner finally spotting a little boy crying quietly while holding his hand. Two older boys are kneeling next to him. Her breath hitches when she spots him. George hasn’t talked to her since their duel. She would sometimes catch his eye across the classroom or in the dining hall but this is the first time she’s run into him. George is rubbing circles on the boy's upper back as he whispers sweet comforting phrases to the crying boy. As she steps closer she recognizes the boy to be Michael. She has helped him countless times after he has gotten detention from Umbridge.

Looking at George now she questions how she once called him a horrible person. She sighs accepting she might have been too quick to judge. She steps between the Weasleys and kneels down at Micheal’s feet so they're at eye level. She looks through her big bag before pulling out some gauze and a small glass jar of healing salve. Micheal gives her his hand, remembering the drill. She quietly applies the salve and wraps his hand. She listens to George explain to Micheal how soon the pain will subside. She notices he never stops rubbing circles on the boy's back. There’s something reassuring about the movement and she’s not even the one receiving it.

Micheal takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. He looks between George and (y/n) before smiling mischievously.

“Thanks mom, dad.” He tips his head to each before getting up and walking to his dorm. George’s hand stays frozen in the air even if there’s no longer a back to rub. (Y/n) stops screwing the lid to her salve as she looks at the now empty seat. They both jump when Fred starts howling with laughter. His laughs echo down the hall as he doubles over himself, holding his aching stomach. He wipes at his eyes and sighs loudly.

“Good one kid.” He shouts though Michael is much too far to hear it. “Ah! That’s golden.” He adds before he walks off in the same direction as Micheal did before.

George and (y/n) remain frozen. (Y/n)’s face is pale and George's cheeks are tomato red. (Y/n) is the first to move, she finishes screwing on the lid and shoving it into her bag. She’s in a hurry to get out of this very awkward situation. She shoots a look at George who moved from the floor and onto the bench. He’s leaning back onto the wall with his arms crossed. He smirks when she meets his eyes.

“We would have some cute kids.” His tone is teasing but there’s still something soft and affectionate in the statement.

“Oh honestly George, get a grip.” She rolls her eyes and walks away quickly. It takes all her willpower to hold in her smile until her back is turned to George. He’s not wrong she thinks to herself.

——-

She knocks lightly on the dorm room door. She can hear George’s loud laugh on the other side. She hopes he won’t be mad at her for interrupting the fun. Lee opens the door and the smile on his face is quickly replaced by a look of surprise.

“(Y/n)?” He stuns. The laughter in the room stops abruptly. She hears shuffling and soon George is peaking his head over Lee’s shoulder.

Lee quickly moves out of the way and George looks at her with a concerned look.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He asks looking around to make sure there is no one else listening.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you were having fun there.” She feels pretty stupid now that she’s actually standing in front of him. George shakes his head vigorously to tell her it’s no problem.

“I just-“ she runs a hand through her hair. “I sort of need someone who doesn’t need help with tutoring or homework or healing salve.” The offer is months old. They haven’t even talked in weeks. She never thought she’d actually take him up on it but she didn’t know who else to turn to.

His shoulders drop and a natural smile spreads across his face. “Well then I’m your guy.” He closes the door behind him and guides her down the stairs and into the common room. It’s late, most students are in bed. George asks the few left if they could give them some privacy and they all retreat to their rooms.

“What’s up?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She sighs and walks over to the big red couch. She sits down and buries her head into her hands. “I- I’m so tired George.” Her voice is laced with despair. “There’s just so much to do and I’m trying, I really am but I just don't know if I have it in me.”

George sits next to her, so close that their knees touch. “What are all the things you need to do?” He asks softly.

“I have to run the potions club and make that banner for the Ancient Runes Club. I have to tutor Hannah and Seamus and Zacharias and so many other people. I have to make sure Lavender is okay and that Luna found her socks. I have to listen to Hermione and Ginny talk about their boy problems and then give them advice. I have to write back to my parents and help them with their problems. I have to help McGonagall with the rat problem because no one else wants to. Madame Pomfrey said I could intern with her but that means I have to spend ten hours a week in the hospital wing. I told professor Sprout I’d help her extract pus from Bubotuber. I promised Colin I would look out for Dennis and I haven't even seen him in weeks.” It all spills out. For the first time ever she is totally transparent about her problems. “And then I have to worry about my own studies and try and keep my grades up and there’s the stress of Dumbledore’s army, what if we get caught?” She’s panting by the end suddenly feeling much lighter.

“Well maybe you could say no to a couple people. I’m sure the Ancient Runes Club can wait for a sign, Mcgonagall can take care of the rats on her own. You can say no you know.” He places a hand on her thigh and looks deep into her eyes.

“But- I can’t George! I can't say no. Those people are counting on me. What if the clubs fall apart or Seamus’ grades drop or Luna never finds her socks.” Her face is panicked.

“Let me help you.” He says it so softly. She feels a dry lump in her throat. Her jaw suddenly hurts and she feels tears well up in her eyes.

“I don’t want your help George!” She jumps off the couch and onto her feet. George’s hand slips off her thigh and onto the couch. It looks limp and sad without her leg to hold it. “I don’t need you, I was doing perfectly fine before you came around and I’ll be fine without you moving forward.” There’s a pause. “ I didn’t come here for you to save the day.” There it is. She doesn’t want to appear weak. She thinks asking for help makes her weak.

George stands up, towering over her. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then I’ll leave. I will go for good and you won’t have to worry about me meddling in your life anymore. I just want you to know that I’m offering to help because I can see how hard this is for you and I think you deserve more than what you’ve granted yourself.” George steps forward closing the gap. “I think you deserve to be taken care of for a change.” They’re inches away from each other. His face suddenly turns soft as he looks into her tear-filled eyes.

There’s a silent pause. She looks into George’s eyes and she sees the honesty, the care, the love. George is there for her when no one else is. He’s right, she is having a hard time and he’s the one offering the help. No one else. All the other people she has sworn would help her, be there for her, aren’t there. But how could they have known? She never tells them how hard it is, always caring for others. She never asks for their help. It’s not that those people don’t care. She just never opens up to them. She never permits them to be anything else than people she could help. All she ever did was give and give. She never believed she should do anything else. George is the first person who wants her to take, not give. It finally clicks. Everything that George has been trying to make her see is crystal clear now.

A tear spills from down her cheek and she feels her knees go weak. She cups her hand over her mouth trying to hold in a sob. She takes a step back shaking her head in denial. George’s face remains soft but there’s concern in his eyes.

“Hey.” He tilts his head, maintaining eye contact as she tries to look away. “It’s okay.” He pulls her towards his chest and she welcomes it. She falls into his arms as more tears fall down her cheeks. “Let it out.” He says.

With that permission (y/n) cries. She cries like never before. Loud sobs slip from her lips as her body shakes in George’s arms. She cries about all the sad secrets people have confided in her. She cries for all the days she sacrificed for others. She cries for all the “I love that you never say no”. She cries for all the grades she sacrificed to keep others high. She lets out years of pent-up tears, of hurt.

He rubs small circles on her upper back and remains quiet. She was right, there relay is something reassuring about those little circles. She cries for an hour and George never moves, never speaks, never stops her.

Finally, she sniffles her last tear and steps out of George’s arms. He reluctantly lets her go but takes her hand in his. She pulls it away to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you.” Her voice is so delicate she would be embarrassed if it weren’t George in front of her. She laughs suddenly and George looks shocked. She soon starts crying of laughter and George gapes unsure of what to do.

“Are you okay?” He asks confused.

“I just, I hate you.” She laughs again. George looks stunned. He takes a step away from her and opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off.

“Or so I thought. You have bugged me every day for months yet there’s no one I want here more than you.” George takes a tentative step forward. The words seem to give him confidence. “As crazy as it sounds I’ve had some of the best times talking with you because I actually said what I wanted to say. You can handle me better than anyone else. You challenge me in a way that I absolutely hate but I know why you’re doing it. You’re helping me learn to take care of myself and that’s hard because it’s something I’ve never done before.” She stops for a moment. The look in her eyes changes. First, there’s shock as she realizes. Then there’s a soft and happy glow. “I think I’m falling in love with you George.” She gasps. It’s almost a whisper. She barely wants to admit it.

“Come here.” Is all he says. She doesn’t move. Her brows knit themselves as she searches his face for an explanation. She takes a deep breath. The step towards him feels like a trust fall. He gently pulls her closer by the waist. He presses his forehead to hers. (Y/n) pushes her nose to his, bringing their lips closer to one another. He repeats the movement.

They tease each other a couple more times before George whispers “Can I kiss you?” She nods slowly and whispers a yes. He tips his head so their lips connect. His soft lips send sparks down her spine. George wraps an arm up to her back and pulls her closer quickly deepening the kiss. She wraps her arms around his next and soon her hands tangle into his fiery red hair. It feels like rain after a dry summer, like the cold side of her pillow, like the warm fire after coming in from the cold, it feels like heaven. Nothing has ever felt more right than their lips pressed together and for once, she’s giving in to what she wants.

When George pulls away she finds herself chasing his lips. She pouts a little missing the kiss. George runs a hand over her hair and looks at her adoringly.

“I’m falling for you too (y/n)”

#george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x y/n #george imagine

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fragileizywriting · 3 years

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C'est la Sea

pairing: Luka / Marinette word count: 9,111 chapter: 1/2 rating: E summary: There’s a mermaid in his bed. A pouty, pretty mermaid on his bed. “Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?” “It’s cold,” Marinette shivers, just to prove her point. She collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, trying to tuck in her tail. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

I just can't stop myself from writing Lukanette...

Written for my lovely and beautiful friend @valiantlyjollynightmare !!! Your mermaid AU is so wonderfully written and it gives me so many feels that I had to get the mermaid fever out. Please enjoy!!!

Life is simple and stagnant on land and it goes like this.

Wake up. Put on clothes. Find breakfast somewhere in the tiniest kitchen he’s ever been a witness to. It’s compact to the point that it’s hysterical, and it would probably fit someone of normal size. She’d fit in the kitchen just nicely, because things are about her height and eye level, but he has to crouch in order to see inside the fridge. Why are things so small?

Either way, after breakfast he leaves the house and goes to class.

And the classes are mind-numbing, and repetitive, and after the longest chapter of marine ichthyology he almost sleeps through, he’s on his way to find his friends. He’s made a couple of friends for the few months he’s been around, and tries to socialize with them after most of his morning classes have finished, and attempts to enjoy their company before the second block of afternoon classes happen. His friends are kind, and also in the same field as him, so they’ve mostly come close out of the nature of being in mutual classes, but they’re not anyone he’s really gotten close to.

So he’ll eat lunch with them, at some point. Start his next block of classes, and try his best not to roll his eyes at the casual inconsistencies referenced in the slideshow. Find his friends again, if any are available after class, and eat dinner at some point. Walk home, and politely decline any and all attempts to hang out after they’re finally done for the day— after all, everyone knows that he’s extremely busy studying for his classes.

They ask about her often, ask if he’ll be going to visit her for whatever break they have that gives them a sliver of days between classes, asking for pictures of her and well wishes. They ask about her students, ask if she’ll be getting anything for teacher appreciation week that’s common in Canada, and ask about how his life and family are back there before he transferred.

He makes up lies as he goes, of course, because he’s never actually been to Canada and certainly has never been to Quebec, but it seems to be working. His vague knowledge about the West Atlantic works in his favor because none of his classmates are from there, nor have they ever gone themselves. His friends mean well, knowing the feeling of longing when it comes to missing another person, and always offer condolences to the transfer student who seems to be a fish out of water in a new country with a funny Canadian accent, but they aren’t aware of the true nature of his relationship with her.

They know that he’s married. Human customs are similar to his, and the gold band on his left ring finger is a clear sign. Some people he’s met over the past couple of months have shied away and lost interest in him when they’d looked down to see that he never takes the ring off— he doesn’t hold it against them. His friends speculate about how she manages to handle the long-distance without him, but they have no idea just how hard it actually is.

Because they don’t know about the bond fever.

The fever that makes it harder and harder to breathe without her.

Every moment not thinking of her is just a distraction. Every moment not being next to her is biding time. Food tastes bland, music sounds wonky, and all his body wants to do is move. Staying still will make him curl up and stagnate for the rest of his days, and if he wants to leave this part of his life as fast as possible, he can’t afford to stop moving.

So, he’ll arrive home after school, and check up on the coral and fish in his tank to see if everyone in there is fine and not having a turf war without his knowledge. He’ll attempt to have a conversation with his fish, and feed them until they complain, because he’s never gotten the hang of actually taking care of pets. He’ll spin his ouroboros as he continues to waffle between staying and powering through, or the second option of leaving everything behind and dropping everything in favor of her. Work out to get rid of feelings of loneliness— of this horrible, aching bond fever that grips his heart enough to squeeze and hurt and make him regret ever turning to the surface in the first place.

He’ll take the scenic route, along the shore, looking over the ocean he knows and loves dearly. The sun will set over the sea as he takes a break when the buildup of lactic acid in his body gets too painful. It’ll take him hours, probably, of hard running down by the water, but it’ll be enough to get him to stop thinking about her for even a smidge.

Take a shower, afterwards, and making absolute-positive sure that his ouroboros is safely and securely wrapped around his wrist, lest he loses his sea legs— and try to talk to his fish again to get a conversation. Try to finish his homework before passing out asleep on his bed.

Sometimes he remembers to pull the bedsheets up on him. But most of the time he falls asleep in whatever position he’s laid himself down onto the bed, waking up with his arms and legs facing all the wrong way and the alarm on his phone blaring at him to wake up. He wakes up stiff, and sore, but there’s barely any time to sit back and relax before his day starts all over again.

Rinse.

Wash.

Repeat.

Over and over until the days glaze and mesh in his head.

He’s tired— the fish are his only true company, for now, and they rarely talk to him unless they’re begging for food. Sometimes they have a conversation with him when he really gets personal and deep with them, but they don’t really offer much advice, other than the occasional idea to spice up his diet and take a new route to school.

There’s nothing that can get him out of this slump. Nothing above land, anyway. Some days, on the weekends when he has enough time to, he opens the windows that box his mattress as well as the windows in the living room, and lets the salty breeze fly in through the whole houseboat— indulges in the idea of being back home with her— before he begrudgingly faces back to the stacks and stacks of homework piled on his desk.

It’ll be worth it. Just a year and a half left. The ring on his finger is proof enough of that. The bond fever may hurt, and may try to push him to go home, but he knows that she’ll be upset with him if he doesn’t finish school. She’ll probably shove him back up here herself, with her pouting and determined face. She’s docile, but bull-headed, and sometimes the storms in her eyes are as terrifying as the sea he’s from, and he’s certain that she won’t be satisfied until he has that diploma in his hand.

So, he puts his bag down by the door, kicks off his shoes, deadbolts the door behind him, and goes hunting for anything in his fridge that is available. He’s hungry, and he’s far more metabolic in this form than in his normal one, something about being on land just makes him hungrier— and nothing is safe from him when it comes to food.

His houseboat is about the size of a clam, the kitchen itself smaller than a pearl, but the ceiling is tall enough so that he doesn’t have to keep his head down whenever he walks around, so he can’t exactly complain— even when he opens the door to his fridge the size of a child, there’s nothing but a lettuce head that is definitely more white than green, a small box of blueberries he buys every time he makes eye contact with it in the store and thinks of her, and his leftover carton of eggs. The box of blueberries is full, still, and he’s convinced that he leaves it in the fridge until it rots just in case she ends up showing up and wants her favorite food.

But…

Life is simple, and stagnant on land, and he’s forgotten to do groceries this week.

Rinse, wash, and repeat.

He makes quick work of making the saddest scrambled eggs he could possibly produce in his lifetime, using up all of the leftover eggs— six of them, and he won’t be able to regret the amount of food he’s eating until he wakes up tomorrow with absolutely nothing to eat— and proceeds to bin the shells immediately. He eats over the sink, a utensil in one hand and the handle of the pan in the other, spooning and chasing runny eggs into his mouth, barely paying attention to the flavor.

He’s famished. And it’s not like he’d even be able to taste the flavor, anyway, from how bad his heart hurts. Bond fever is a finicky thing.

At least he remembered to throw the eggshells away in the proper place, instead of letting them clog up the sink.

He’d compost them, if he had any plants to take care of— but that’s always been her department, not his. The walls of his one-bedroom one-bathroom boat are sparse and empty— simply just a bed with a comfortable duvet and blue sheets, his tank full of fish that don’t offer enough company, a desk with some shelves to study at, lined with textbooks, and a wobbly table to eat at. He’d splurged on the extra desk— he could’ve just used the eating table— but knew it was probably better to keep his school papers and food away from each other. Besides, the back left leg of the table definitely looks like it’s about to cave at any point. It’s why he’s started just eating standing up and over the sink.

But she would never let him live like this.

It’s a clean house, and everything has its place, but it’s barren. Almost as if he doesn’t really live here.

And to be honest, he doesn’t. Physically, he spends most of his time here, but— bond fever makes him completely and totally disoriented. Mentally and emotionally he is nowhere near land, but rather in her arms, away from this simple and bland house.

But if she were here… truly here, instead of a fleeting moment…

She would decorate the walls with paint. Put up shelves. Print out photos, and frame them, because she’s enamored with the idea of ink and stains and items that permanently stain other things. She’d taken up to painting quite well, the last time— buying a selection of beginner’s acrylic gouaches in many different colors, and had set to work painting for the first time in her life. The world had exploded onto the canvases. Boats, sunrises, shores from distant islands, a turbulent and salty sea— she’d painted like she was taking a photograph and was developing it right onto the canvas.

He wishes he had the paintings with him now. Anything and everything to keep him company— any remembrance of her is such a blessing. He’ll take it all, if he can. Somedays, the ring on his finger just isn’t enough to keep his heart from hurting. He’ll catch sight of a bolt of ruffled pink fabric in a store window that is so glossy and sheer and delicate that he’ll find himself spinning his ring nonstop, dreaming of being together with her again.

Just a year and a half…

She’d line the shelves with rocks. Trinkets. Keychains from cities they’d gone to together, braided knots, and beautiful jewelry. And how could he forget the plants upon plants she’d shove into every square inch of the place, to the point where the houseboat would be a living and breathing creature from all of the greenery? Sunflowers— peonies— roses— lilacs— geraniums— tulips— every flower she could possibly find at a flower shop would somehow make it onto a flat surface in the houseboat.

This houseboat is empty without her. He spins the ring on his finger, thinking to himself about her— wishing and longing to see her. Just a year and a half more. He can visit on holidays, if he can afford it— but this isn’t just for him. It’s for her, too.

He flicks the light on in his room after washing the dishes, in the process of taking off his shirt, getting ready to try talking to the fish today in the far corner, the furthest away from his full-sized mattress, before giving in to go on a run along the docks. He almost throws his shirt onto the bed— when— well.

That’s when he notices the mermaid on his bed.

The sleeping mermaid on his bed.

She’s dozing off— hidden under his blanket, the mass of blue covers pulled tight around her naked shoulders. One of her pale arms has escaped from the mess she’s made of the fabric, and it hangs off the bed— steam rising softly off of her skin like she’s slowly being cooked, matching ring glinting in the light of the lamp on his nightstand. His eyes widen at the sight of her— the slow and soft drag of her tail fins against the floor as she inhales and exhales, because even curled up she can’t fit all of her on the mattress. She’s never been considered large, not proportionately, but the tail fins are long and delicate, and the mattress is far too small to fit the both of them if he were in his normal form too.

Pink, shimmery and translucent fins flutter as if caught by a slow breeze— petal-like in shape and it always feels silky against his fingertips whenever he’s touched her in the past, and today it looks no different. He follows the line of her fins back up to her tail that disappears underneath the comfortable blanket, where she’s wrapped herself to keep warm from the stale and stagnant air that permeates the room. He’s always liked the temperature around him to be colder, because of how he grew up, but she’s never been able to handle the slight freeze unless she’s been charmed, the little reef-dweller. Either charmed or wrapped up so tightly around him in order to soak up his body heat, nearly squeezing him to death. He sleeps with an eel of a woman, whenever they’re together, completely and totally reluctant to ever let him go.

Like now.

She’s here.

Here.

Strangling the blanket around her shoulders to keep the cold away from her.

His heart squeezes, and he finds himself on his knees, not exactly kneeling on the mattress but rather the floor just in front of her— gently parting the blanket enough to locate her other arm. She hums at the back of her throat when the cold air reaches and pebbles her porcelain skin— face pinching softly at the cold— before she blinks awake when he whispers her name in order to rouse her.

He’s always loved her blue eyes. Especially when they look at him, shining and shimmering like diamonds. “Mmmm?”

“Hi,” He checks her ears for her own magical charm. They’re there, and safely secured on her ear lobes, two perfectly beautiful pink pearls. They had been wedding gifts to her from her job at the school, that many of the parents had chipped in to get her a charm that would be able to withstand long periods of time outside of the sea, and he’s never been so grateful as now to see her wear them. “How long have you been here for?”

She’s always been a slow riser when she wakes up, so the first few seconds of her being conscious again are routinely docile and sweet, and today is no different. Her face softens the moment she recognizes where she is and who she’s looking at, a certain sweetness in her eyes that makes his heart hurt. “Luka? Oh, oh— Luka—”

She latches onto him tightly, pulling him close by her arms around his neck and shoulders with a happy noise. She smells of the ocean, even though she’s dry— her soft black hair just as silky, and just as long as it’s always been. It spills between his fingers as he combs through it, almost liquid on the web of his fingers and down his wrist, and he spends a moment or two just basking in her warmth, basking in the way she sighs against him. She kisses the closest skin available to her, which seems to be his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, and his bicep— smiling happily up at him when he pulls away enough to look at her in the eyes.

“Marinette— Marinette— I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Her eyes look glassy with tears. “Your fish told me you would be home later— why are you here so early? I thought I had time to surprise you and greet you at the door.”

“You must’ve slept for too long,” He noses at the shell of her ear. “This is about the time I get home every day. But little pearl, what are you doing here? Did you travel safely? Don’t get me wrong, please— I’m so thankful— but when did you show up? No injuries? It’s not a holiday at home, I don’t think, is it?”

“I’m okay. Everything’s okay. No one saw me, and no one tried fishing for me. I just couldn’t keep waiting for you to come back,” She hums. Marinette’s always been a singer, ever since they met for the first time. Always a tune in her voice, always singing and humming away like a never-ending record player. “I’ve missed you so much, Luka, you have no idea— so I just decided that today was enough waiting. I dropped everything off and told my parents that I needed to see you— you, my darling sky.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He kisses her. And then again. And then again. And again. He keeps doing it until it hurts to not breathe— but even then, he doesn’t really find the desire to pull away. After all, this is much easier than what he’s dealt with for the past year. “Every day, my heartache just keeps getting worse— this is horrible. How are we supposed to keep this up for another year?”

“And I thought the wedding would’ve been the hard part of all of this— turns out that the bond is just as real as they say.” She giggles as she pulls him closer. He leans over her, wrapping an arm around the smallest part of her waist, resting his open palm on her upper back to support her as he lays her back down. She’s handsy— he doesn’t blame her— brushing her fingertips on all the skin available to her, making an unsatisfied noise when she reaches his jeans. “Take these off?”

Ah. Lovely Marinette. Always so handsy and desperate for close contact— as if he’s any better. He hasn’t seen her in so long, he’s seconds from stopping the pleasantries and letting her know just how much he’s actually missed her. “But—”

“You’ve never been shy before.” She clicks her tongue with a silly little eye roll. She traces his tattoo on his arm, a small smile on her face, following the compass rose’s north tip up his arm. She makes it to the boat with seven sails, before looking up at him rather confused. “There’s nothing you haven’t already shown me— I’ve seen every single centimeter of you and every last scale. Unless— uhm— has something changed?”

“No, nothing has changed— relax that worry in your eyes.” He laughs, and can’t help himself when he kisses her again, slow enough to distract her as he pulls his jeans off, leaving his boxers behind. Her eyes blow wide at the sight of him naked, save for the jade ouroboros around his wrist and the band of his underwear. He hopes it isn’t inside out. “I just meant that I’ve barely been able to look at you, and I know you won’t let me go until it’s tomorrow if I let you have your way. You’re hidden underneath the blanket— let me look at you first before your tail disappears. Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?”

“It’s cold,” She shivers, just to prove her point, attempting to pull a fast one on him and reaching for the waistband of his boxers before he snags her wrist with a laugh. Thin and soft shoulders curl underneath his palms in an attempt to stop heat from escaping, and she collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, locks of her hair spilling over the blanket, pooling to where her waist should be. She tries to tuck in her tail with mixed results. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

“Reef-dweller,” He grins.

“Yes, yes, continue to make fun of you poor wife who cannot contain heat because of biology. But you don’t have your scales on you right now, you sea serpent.” She pouts. “I should be much more suited for this cold than you should be, right now.”

He guides her burritoed form closer with a warm smile. Her fins flutter, delicate and sweet, as he pulls her close enough for her to rest part of her tail on his lap as he gently reaches for the edges of the blanket again. “It isn’t actually that cold. You’re just losing heat so you can get your sea legs, remember?”

“Unfortunately, I’m starting to remember the hard way. Stars, I keep forgetting how uncomfortable the transformation is. Maybe I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Let me see you,” He noses at her jawline.

“Only if you promise to warm me up after,” She teases, and she actually manages to snap his waistband against his hip, making him hiss at the sensation. She giggles, kicking up her tail delightfully at the noise he makes. “Please, sky?”

They’re politely ignoring the way he’s starting to fill out his underwear already at the sight of her. It’s instinctual, of course, because of bonds and magic and, well, it is Marinette that’s looking at him like she’s famished. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

Steam billows from the opened pocket of the blanket the moment he unwraps her and finally takes a good look at her. Sweet stars, he’s missed her so much, and he shows her just how much by touching her everywhere. She shivers under his fingertips as he traces the small scales that line her chest and stomach. They’re starting to retreat and fade, now that the drying process is finishing up, but she’s still completely smooth and too scaled to have her human characteristics just yet.

“You’re shivering, my sweet pearl.”

“Yes, but— your hands are so warm,” She sighs.

There’s a gentle swell to her chest, hidden beneath the neat rows of hazy pink scales, but the swell isn’t as much as what she has in her human form. He’d learned early on, when they’d first tried their magic charms and had gained their sea legs, that he loves all versions of her body— including when her chest fills his palms with such softness he feels like weeping, with pink peaks that make her sing whenever he tweaks them. Everything about her is delicate, like the world’s most fragile flower.

But very soon, he’s going to end up with an entirely naked woman on his bed instead of a mermaid. Both are lovely ideas. He’ll be able to watch her wobble on her sea legs for an hour or two before she relearns her balance, and have to guide her by her naked hips if she wants to leave the room. She’ll probably want to stretch her legs, and take a turn about the very small boathouse, but they probably won’t be able to leave the house today. That look in her eyes is telling.

As if he’s any better.

He traces the rows of scales down her stomach, the scales getting thicker and larger as he reaches just about where her tail technically begins at the hips. Her arms, too, have patches of translucent pink scales that are starting to disappear in favor of just skin, and he follows the long line of her tail down with a palm.

He skirts over the area that he knows she so desperately wants to guide him to, gaining a brief huff and pout from her as he instead grazes along her scales all the way to her long and beautiful curtain fin. His touches are soft, and barely noticeable— but it’s enough to get her to twitch.

He starts to tickle her.

“Luka,” She slaps her tail on the mattress in an attempt to make him stop tickling her, and her hand grabs for his— but her laughter is so contagious he can hardly stand it himself. “What— ha— what are you— oh, stars— d-doing?”

“I haven’t seen my wife in almost a year,” He gives her a smile, laughing at the way she squirms uselessly under his hands. “Can I not touch her?”

“You can touch— but—” Such sweet laughter! “But why— oh! Why touch me there when I’m ticklish?”

“Oh? Would you rather me touch you higher?”

“Yes,” She giggles. “Oh, please, I know exactly where I’d like you to touch me. But buy me dinner first, at least.”

“I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.” He licks his lips, watching the way she shifts to prop herself on her elbows. She blows her bangs out of her face when it starts to fall across her lashes, looking at him with sparkling beautiful eyes. She’s so pretty. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all of that, but his love for her has never diminished in the first place. Sweet beautiful melody. “What is it that my lovely girl wants?”

“Hm…”

“Make it count, of course. Your tail is going to disappear soon.”

“How about: you tell me that you want me like this, sky,” She peeks at him from under her lashes.

He wants her in any form, this won’t be too hard. “I want you.”

She’s feeling cheeky, isn’t she? That smile is proof alone. “Tell me you need me.”

“As if I have to say that.” But she prods him with a cute pout when he rolls his eyes, and he acquiesces: “I need you.”

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

“I’m miserable without you. So miserable.” He means it. And she knows it. “I don’t want to keep doing this long-distance anymore. I’ve never been so miserable.”

She tilts her head to the side with another hum, looking around the room. “Tell me you’ll let me decorate our home— it’s so bland in here. Where are all the flowers? The music?”

“Please decorate—” His brain flatlines. “Wait, decorate? This house? This— our— house? Home?”

“Surprise!” Another peal of laughter escapes from her, and it follows through her body to a delicate flick of her tail.

His eyes widen. “You— you’re staying?”

“Yes!” She nods, shimmying on her elbows as she grins. “Yes yes yes!”

“But— Marinette— you—” Sweet stars, she’s staying. She’s staying. How could he ever want her to go? The love of his life, the jewel in his heart, and his wife— staying for longer than a few fleeting moments when she can afford to slip away from home? Oh— oh— his heart could burst.

“I can’t stay away from you.” She confesses, cupping his hand and kissing the gold band on his finger. She balances her upper weight on her other elbow, but doesn’t seem to struggle under her own weight. “I’m tired of being away. The bond is making me miserable, Luka, and I’ve had just about enough of it. So, I decided to make it easy on the both of us.”

“But—”

She winks. “I know.”

“And—”

“Yes, that too.”

“Also, your job—”

“I know,” Her laughter is so sweet. He can’t even finish his sentences without her answering as if they’re on the same wavelength— oh— he’s missed this woman so much. “I know, sky. I know. But all of it will be there still when we go back next year. My students won’t go to the next teacher until five years from now. I’ve already talked to the other teachers about me disappearing off with you for a year.”

She… she would really be willing to give up everything, just like that, just for him? Her students, her daily work, her desire to teach? Her desire to nurture? All of it, just to be with him? “I can’t do that to you, little pearl. I know how important your students are to you— I can’t ask you to stay away from them. Maybe I should just go home with you, instead.”

“Luka, honestly! You’re not doing this to me, I want to stay with you— and you better finish this degree of yours. You’ve worked too hard! You know why I couldn’t come with you in the first place, but a year has changed and things are better now, my parents got help from a new family that’s moved into the reef. We can afford a year away from home now, my sweet. A real year away. You know I get one year off to stay with my bond.”

“But that was only as soon as you get married— that was, sweet stars— it was eleven months ago.”

“And I never used it,” She informs him, as if he hadn’t also spent the last year lonely and miserable. “So it’s still viable. I told you, I already talked to the other teachers.”

“But our family—”

“—is completely and totally better off without me constantly sighing in their ears.” She shrugs with a soft smile. It’s a little difficult, given that she’s still propped up on her elbows, but she makes it work. “If I touched my ring one more time in front of my mother, she would’ve personally pushed me out of the ocean herself. Not to mention your mother, telling me that ‘it’s not good to leave your bond alone, lassie. Bonds need to be cultivated, lassie’. Two mothers pushing me up onto the docks, telling me to sleep easy for at least one night. Better me than your mother dragging you back home to deal with me and my nightmares.”

She looks thin. Thinner than usual for springtime, and her face definitely looks a little darker than usual. His poor Marinette, how could he have done this to her? But it’s not like he isn’t affected in the same way, either… all of those nightmares and dull days, wishing to see and hold her. “Have you been eating? You’re looking thin.”

Perhaps they shouldn’t keep trying to test the universal truths with their bond. They really need that year together, don’t they?

“Me? You look thin, Luka.” There’s a frown making its way to the edges of her lips. “Is there not enough food for you? When was the last time you ate?”

“Tuttering pearl,” He murmurs. “Always worrying about me.”

“With good reason to,” She pouts. “Of course I worry about you, sky. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn’t ask my husband if he’s okay? Not a very good one, right?”

“I’ve been eating okay. I eat more in this form.”

“You look pale, my sweet.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been having trouble,” He admits. “Life has been so stagnant without you that I’m kind of just running like a machine. The days are all a blur, and it’s gotten to where I don’t even remember days unless I have a test or homework due that day. I already knew that university was miserable, but— ah, little pearl— don’t cry. It’s alright.”

Marinette’s going to burst into tears. “How stupid of me, leaving you alone.”

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not as healthy as you usually are,” She hushes a bit when he kisses her, but it’s not enough. “I should’ve been here.”

“No. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who left, and I shouldn’t have done that to you. To us.”

“I should’ve come with you.”

“I should’ve waited.” He kisses her again. And again. And again. “I should’ve waited just a little longer to come back up here.”

“You would’ve missed the scholarship if you had. Life could’ve waited for us back home— I should’ve come with you.”

Her tears taste like the ocean, too. “It’s okay, pearl.”

“Oh, sky,” Her eyes are so watery, even as he tries to calm her down with a gentle hand running down her scales. “What idiots we were.”

He tries for a smile. “Everyone told us this would happen.”

“They did,” She nods, sniffing into his palms as he cradles her face and wipes her lower eyelids free of tears. “They did, and we didn’t listen, and it’s cost us a whole year away from one another. How were we supposed to know it got this bad? It hurts to breathe without you.”

“I guess we were just supposed to listen to them,” He kisses her when she tilts her head up in an indication that she wants his lips on hers. He kisses her enough to make her eyes slip shut, and for her body to shiver as he reaches around her again to hold her at the waist. Sweet, sweet Marinette.

“Never again. Never ever again. I’m so thankful I’m here— I won’t let you go. I need you so much. Will you have me forever?”

There’s no need to ask. “Always. I did end up bonding with you, after all.”

She snorts, almost surprising herself with the noise. “A wise choice, you know. I’ve been told I’m very ‘agreeable’.”

Luka finds himself smiling. “Which parent said that?”

“Her child was impossible to console, every morning there was a new battle with this student. Every afternoon his mother would tell me that if no one ends up bonding with me by the following winter, she’ll start courting me herself, completely oblivious to the ring on my finger. She’s amazed at how easy I handle children, and I’m amazed she can just ignore the clear signs of me having bond fever for this long.”

“You’re perfect at your job,” They both laugh when he’s close enough to her to press his forehead onto hers. “But remember that you’re not the only one that wants to take care of their loved one. No more bond fever. I promise.”

“Definitely not. I’ll make sure to chase it out of our bodies on my own, if I have to.”

“Won’t stop until it’s gone?”

“Making up for the time we spent away,” She nods. “It might take us a little longer than normal, from how bad the fever’s gotten, but I don’t think you mind.”

“Greedy.” He grins. “How will I survive?”

She folds herself around him, encircling him as tightly as possible while still allowing him to move his arms. There’s genuine muscle behind the delicateness of her scales and fins— and while she can’t actually hurt his skin with her scales from how tough-skinned he is even in his human form, he is worried that she might accidentally hurt herself by how brittle and fragile they are. She’s still drying out, going through the process of getting her sea legs, meaning that her tail and fins aren’t as slippery as they usually are. “You’ve been captured, sky. No use trying to escape now.”

Their charms soak up most of the oils on their body, allowing them to fully dry out and gain human legs. Marinette is in the final moments of the transformation, which gives him about thirty more minutes of enjoying seeing his wife like she normally looks before she’s safely hidden amongst other humans.

But still, unbeknown to his wishes to see her completely laid flat, she continues to wrap around him, humming at the back of her throat as she soaks up his body heat, coiling around him like an eel. Cold little pearl. “Still freezing, my sweet?”

“I’m feeling a little better. I don’t think I’m losing any more body heat, but I’ll take any opportunity to be attached to you. I don’t want to let you go for the next ten days. Or weeks. Or months. What do you say to a whole year of us together in this bed?”

“We need to eat at some point.”

“I believe you said that there are delivery services available?” She hums. “I really liked pizza the last time. Do they make pizza with blueberries on them?”

“I’m not sure they do.”

“They should,” She makes a happy noise. “The taste would be sublime. Blueberries are so wonderful. Or how about blueberries and peaches on the pizza?”

“Humans would probably tell you that the pizza you’re craving is a crime.” His laughter is genuine, bubbling out of him at the idea of Marinette eating a slice of what humans consider revolting. “They don’t put fruit on them.”

“They’re missing out on flavors they never would’ve imagined.” She pouts.

“What are we going to do with your horrifying taste palette? You have the appetite of a sea-dweller. Are you sure you’ve lived your entire life in the reef?”

“All of my years, yes.” She giggles. “I don’t imagine I would be a very good sea-dweller. Much too cold down there.”

He smiles when a shiver travels down her tail at the thought of the water. “Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten that I promised to warm you up? Maybe I should cash that in now.”

A hand makes it to his boxers. She snaps his waistband with another version of her soft smiles and those wandering, glittering blue eyes, and, oh— it’s impossible for him to take off his underwear like this, with her tail completely wrapped around him like she’s a snake— but his wife is nothing short of persistent as she kisses his side. He shivers when her tongue sneaks against his skin, wet and moist, and he can feel himself involuntarily twitch his toes at the feeling. “Maybe I should warm you up instead, sky. You look like you’re having a rough time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“You are hopelessly mistaken if you think I’m going to allow you to have free reign of my body before I’m able to enjoy the last sights of you like this.” Even as his toes continue to twitch with the way she mouths at his ribs. “You ravenous woman. You’re terrible at sharing, and I’ve missed you very much.”

“Oh, it’s not as if I can’t just take off my earrings and let you enjoy touching my scales some more.”

“You know what I mean,” He scrunches his nose. “Let me do this properly.”

“I’ll let you do whatever you’d like as long as I get to go first.” She tugs at the elastic. “Please? Just a few minutes, Luka? A decently sized amount of time to get my mouth on you?”

Oh, conniving mermaid. “I do not make deals with you. The last time I did, I ended up getting married to you.”

“As if that’s a bad thing!”

“I don’t regret it,” He shares a grin with her. “Definitely not. But you just have a way of convincing me to do things.”

“Oh, so I convinced you to marry me? Funny, I remember something about how you were convinced you were bad for me, but couldn’t help yourself but to keep trying to court me…” She giggles when he attempts to squeeze out of her grasp, rolling his eyes affectionately. “There’s no escaping, sky. Not with your sea legs, I’m afraid.”

It’s true. He is a lot stronger than her with his tail. With just about anything, really, because merfolk from the reefs are nothing compared to the ones out in the open sea with hardened skin and longer figures, but…

“This bed will break if I get rid of them,” He manages to get one of his legs out, much to her complaints. She’s far too dry for her to keep a genuine grip on him, poor thing. “Stretch out, little pearl. I’m curious to see how well you can last.”

“Will you take me like this?” She gasps, letting him unwrap her enough for his other leg to slip out from underneath her. “Oh, sky, yes please! I’m not sure—”

“We’ll do that next time. I have something else in mind.” Although he’s willing to try. Maybe when she isn’t on the cusp of transforming out of her tail, because that would take a little longer for them to find the best position— she’s always so small and tight as it is. It would be easier in water, of course, so that she’s in whatever position is more comfortable for her, but with his ouroboros on he breathes like a normal human. Sadly, he would probably drown himself.

Marinette would kill him.

A good way to go. But still killed and drowned all the same.

She’s still ticklish under his fingertips when he brushes over her scales again, but her cheeks are slowly pinking as they make eye contact. She’s not shy— definitely not. Honestly, she’s much more adventurous than him, in this aspect, but it’s been so long since they’ve been together, and he hopes that he remembers how to please her to the point she sings. Even though she’s excited, and he can tell by the way her fins twitch at the end of the bed, she mostly keeps still as he follows her scales back to where she’s wanted him to be from the very beginning.

Ah, there she is.

This spot is definitely not dry.

Soft, and full of slick, she opens gently to his prodding fingers with a sigh. Her nails are blunt, but they feel like little needles on his shoulders as she grips him, trying her best not to squirm and overwhelm him. Her body is tightly wound, almost hurtful, and even with the slick she’s not that easy to sink into down to the knuckle like he’d imagined. He hisses at how tight she is, feeling his cheeks heat and something stir at the base of his spine, panting as he hears her squelch as he pushes in more and more. “Why are you so tight, pearl?”

“I— oh— haven’t had much time to myself, the school keeps me so busy—” She makes a noise of contentment anyway, brushing her hair back and around her as he fingers her open. She’s a pretty sight, with her hair long and flat like ribbons near her waist. If he twists his finger this way… maybe she’ll… “And you know I don’t like doing it— oh, stars! Luka, yes, more of that—”

“Easy,” He grins, making sure she doesn’t squirm completely away from his hands. She wants to stay, she does, and he knows that, but she’s always too excited to keep still and let him finish. She wants all of it. She wants all of him, and always ends up rushing to the good parts instead of enjoying the moment. “Finish what you were saying, sweetheart.”

She huffs when he stills his finger, batting her tail along the end of the mattress. “I don’t like doing it alone, you know, and it’s been rather lonely doing it.”

“I know what you mean,” He fills in the silence between her panting, twisting his finger again and making her eyes roll as a groan leaves her.

She bites her lip. “I’d rather you help me out, it always feels so much better— oh— you’re just so good, sky.”

“Oh, am I?” He meets her gaze almost challengingly, slowing his fingers down enough to get a shine back into her hazing eyes. “So does that mean you thought about me?”

Does he really deserve that fin slap onto his shoulder? He would say no, but, there’s not much of an argument to be made when she rolls her eyes. “Of course I thought about you. What kind of ridiculous question is that?”

“Let me guess,” He tilts his head to the side, blinking at her with shaggy hair in his lashes. “Did you think about the last time we did it? How I’d made you sing for hours?”

“No— I mean, well, yes— but—” She moans.

He hums. “You almost woke up our neighbors with your sighs. Pretty little thing.”

“You know, I also thought about my husband hurrying up whenever he decided to finger me,” Her smile curls silly when all he does is laugh and continue to stall. Slicking his fingers against the soft and wet slit, only gently sinking in only to pull out again, making her mewl out. “I want to get you out of those boxers, damn this tail! Your cock is calling my name, I know it— if only I had the legs to catch you with, you’d see the summit of my desires.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that. A reef-dweller, trying to outmaneuver a deep-sea dweller.”

“You’re not as scary as you think, sky,” Her shoulders shake from laughter, and he retaliates by curling his fingers just so in order to get that whine back into her voice. “I’ll— oh my— h-have you know, I got over your differentness—”

“My ‘differentness’?” He grins, but she doesn’t elaborate.

“—within the first year of meeting you. Maybe even the first month— I knew from the moment your eyes turned into gold that I was going to marry you. Our friends were confused and terrified of it— but I knew that you’re nothing more than a guppy. And I knew it from the moment you scales changed colors to match the reef that I had found my eternal love.”

“Sweet,” He muses, trying his best not to blush. “But you are still no match for a deep-sea dweller, my love. They’re tougher than nails. The bullies of the merworld.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true.” But she doesn’t make eye contact with him anymore, instead looking down at his boxers with a knowing look. His body stirs as she continues to look at him, wetting her lips with a slow drag of her tongue, enraptured by what she sees. “The ever scary deep sea, with their terrifying personalities and scary men who want nothing more than to please their wives.”

“And I, of course, wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Something in her switches, and her gaze snaps up to his. He looks at her shining eyes, watching them widen into a lovely shape as she whines at the back of her throat. “Let me have you, Luka, before I lose my mind from how much I need you.”

His finger goes back to making her sing. “I love it when you beg, sweetheart.”

“Ridiculous man,” She rolls her eyes but it almost feels forced as her face turns redder and redder. “Just— oh— watch out, sky, because once you’re done I’ll return the favor.”

She drags him closer for a kiss. He eases another finger into her, desperate to make the humming noise turn into a full-on shout, but he gets distracted by the way her tongue presses into his. Inquisitive, as usual, his pearl is frantic for him as she curls her tongue into his mouth, parting her own lips in a moan when he angles his head to the side and nips at her bottom lip with his teeth.

She’s alive under his fingers. Tight, yes— warmer than a furnace, too— she’s everything he loves and craves. He’ll chase the bond fever out of her, too, even if it takes him all night, but the way she sings praises of his fingers curling and uncurling in her as he works her open is a sign that it might not be long before his pearl is gushing over his fingers.

But the bond fever won’t be that easy to solve. They have a whole year to make up for, of course, but he’s certain that this is in the right direction. To hell with obligations of tomorrow, or even all of the groceries he knows that they have to go and get when he has her gasping and moaning from his actions— he hasn’t heard her sweet and moaning voice in months. It’s a sweet song that he’ll hold forever in his heart.

��Luka— Luka—” She purrs.

Or tries to, at least, since they’re outside of water and the sound doesn’t travel like it should. Regardless, it’s a rumbly and poetic noise that warms him all over, evidence that the strain in her shoulders is starting to lessen, and evidence that she’s relaxing completely. He almost straddles her, his knees on either side of her tail and careful not to step on her hair, pistoning his fingers in the way he knows will alleviate that curl in her spine.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” He could watch her come undone by him for the rest of his life. “Nothing in the world compares to you.”

Oh, and he knows she loves hearing him say that. Luka knows she’s the happiest when he pays attention to her and goads her with endless amount of praise. None of it is ever lies, or forced— which is probably the reason why she loves it so much.

As if to prove his point, slick squelches out of her as she sighs. She’s taking his two fingers so well, even as it’s a tight fit, even as her body attempts to push him out because his fingers are much bigger than what her body reasonably allows to penetrate her, but still, she’s doing so well— even her scales are shining in the lamplight from the amount of fluid she’s producing, and it makes the pink scales look all the more vibrant. “Sky— oh, please, sky—”

“Just a bit more,” He whispers. “I want to watch you just for a little longer. My darling. My wonderful and absolute darling.”

“Please—” She’s babbling a bit, leaning into his hand he has at her cheek, looking at him with those diamond blue eyes. “Please, Luka, please— oh—”

Oh, he loves it when she begs.

“Come for me?” He nips at her jaw and mouth. He’d bite and lick her at the chest if she had her sea legs, but there’s nothing but smooth scales to mouth over, and it would probably be best not to get any lacerations just because he couldn’t wait for a bit longer. “Be a dearest for me and come for me, little pearl.”

Her tail goes completely rigid when she does.

He feels his fingers get squeezed just as she throws her head back, and catches sight of her earrings starting to glow. He pulls his fingers out just as the magical charms release and stain her skin, and he blinks at the sight of beautiful cream-colored legs wrapped around his hips. Not to mention her pink slit, sticky from his help— he can’t stop himself from going back to her and using his fingertips up and down the sensitive flesh that has her twitching and mewling behind a hand.

“Oh! I— I forgot I’m more sensitive—” She flinches when he comes into contact with her clit. He rolls her flesh between two fingers, enjoying that cute face she makes, before— wait— are her thighs locking because she’s— “Luka— oh stars—”

“Twice back to back, pearl?” His eyes blow wide when she comes back from gasping and crying. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect— oh.”

“Sweet Marinette. You’re so perfect, just like usual.” He murmurs as she starts to settle back down, starting to slow her twitching from his fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm,” She hums instead of answering, and he can’t fault himself for chuckling. “That one is going to cost you.”

“Is it?”

But the sight of her is mouth-watering, so breathtakingly mouth-watering— and he’s halfway to just opening her up again with his fingers and exploring all of her new skin available. After all, the swell of her breasts is so appetizing, her face flushed and glowing as she loses a bit of steam in favor of drowsily blinking up at him— he wants nothing more than to suck bruises onto her porcelain skin and have her continuously cry out.

His own arousal is an afterthought, so long as he can keep her with him looking this beautiful and this dazed.

But the world tilts very much soon after he makes that thought.

“Yes, my lovely sky. My turn— I’ll make sure you to give you two as well.” She smiles, saddling him with a fervor that he should’ve expected by now. The space between her legs is sticky and warm, and he can feel her wetness through his boxers as she sits right where he’s sure is most comfortable for her. Her thighs feel like the perfect weights against his hips, slotting against him like a perfect pair.

Her eyes are brown, now, just as dark and vast as the sea he grew up in before meeting her. Her human eyes are beautiful and nostalgic to his past, and he finds himself captivated by them every time. He loves her in all forms, after all, bond or not— she’s beautiful to him in all versions he’s ever met her, even as he plays with the strands of her slightly shorter hair, relishing in how soft it still is against his fingertips.

“Go easy on me, scary serpent, you know I bruise easily,” He grins at her, palming up the soft flesh of her legs. She shivers at it, still sensitive after just transforming. No doubt her body is still trying to make sense of the sudden change, but she seems to be more in favor of putting all of that on the back burner and focusing on him. She captures his wrist, and kisses softly at his ring when she brings his hand up to her face— he tries his best not to pay attention to how her breasts feel like silk against his arm and elbow.

“Not a chance, my dear.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

#pro lukamari #pro lukanette #fragileizyfic #fragileizylukanette #lukanette endgame

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velvetthunder1999 · 4 years

Text

All the time on Earth

Part 20 - Resistance

Summary: You don’t let Umbridge win, you keep going back to detention to prove your point. George feels hurt by this and Fred finally talks some sense into you

Warnings: Angst, Blood

Word count: 2.7K

George Weasley x Reader // Fred Weasley x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist

You were staring at the page of the book with an empty gaze, at the very back of your mind hearing Umbridge ordering you to copy the whole chapter four times. You had already found the easiest solution; if everything goes as planned, Peanut will arrive tomorrow with the Quick Quote Quills you had ordered, and you wouldn’t have to write a single sentence to Umbridge anymore. The quill will do the job, and you could spend your valuable time doing more important things.

“Are you paying attention to me in my class, Miss Y/L/N?” a sweet girlish voice echoed next to you. You jerked up your head.

“Hm? Er — s-sure,” you said with what you hoped looked like a reassuring nod. Umbridge stepped closer, while the eyes of the whole group was on her.

“Dear, you know I expect everyone to give one hundred percent of themselves during my lessons. If you are not devoted, you are more than welcome to leave the classroom.”  You thought about walking out, just for the joke of it, and the thought made you smile a little. Umbridge raised her eyebrows.“Did I say something entertaining, dear?”

“No…,” you said, glancing at your book and the idiotic chapter in front of you. “No, not really.”

“Then I believe it is necessary for you to pay more attention to what I’m saying here…”

“But we read during the whole class,” you blurted out. All heads turned towards you now. “I could do that in the common room all by myself as well!”

Umbridge tilted her head. A smile appeared on her face.

“And now you won’t even do that, Miss Y/L/N. I will see you this afternoon at five o’clock in my room. Detention.”

The bell rang, putting extra emphasis on the end of her sentence. You clenched your jaw and packed your stuff quickly, then hurried out of the class before anyone else. You headed down to have lunch and found George and Fred already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

“What’s that snarky face?” asked Fred and George turned to you in concern.

“Umbridge gave me detention again,” you said while reaching for the mashed potatoes.

“No!” said George in an angry whisper. “That disgusting old b —”

“Yeah, but I don’t care anymore,” you said, as you hurriedly showed the food into your mouth. “I’ve figured out something, I just need to run to the library.”

“Still, it’s not normal, she’s carving those stuff into your hand — ” Fred started but you stopped him.

“Yeah? And what am I suppose to do, just let her do whatever she likes? Brake up with my boyfriend just because she says so?”

“I thought it was all right, that we — ” said George carefully.

“Was it now?” you snapped. “Cause I know you didn’t like it, and I certainly hated having you around like a stranger. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and arrange some stuff.”

You stood up from the table and ran to the library; you spent all afternoon there, looking for spells that might help you out against Umbridge. At five o’clock you arrived to her office feeling quite satisfied.

You knocked and walked in; today you were the only one sentenced to spend a whole evening with her. You sat down and she pointed at the parchment and the familiar quill before you.

“You know what to do, dear.”

“Should I write the same thing?”

She looked at you, surprised at your contribution to the task.

“Well, we don’t want the letters to mix up, do we?” she said in a slight giggle.

“No we don’t,” you said, locking eyes with her. Her smile faded slowly, then she said in a dry voice,

“Start, please.”

You took the quill with nervous anticipation. You wrote ‘I mustn’t mix with purebloods.’ and you saw the letters carving themselves into your hand. But the pain didn’t come. You fought a satisfied smile. The numbing spell worked.

You spent exactly four hours and twenty-three minutes at Umbridge’s office; by the end of it the spell started wearing off, but the pain was still like an unpleasant bee sting, rather than a shockingly harsh feling. When Umbridge examined your hand, she was looking at your face, searching for a slight wince, a badly-hidden grimace, but she didn’t get anything.

“Shame,” she said. “I see the message is still not clear. I will see you tomorrow as well.”

As you closed the door, a dark smile appeared on your face. You did it. You actually sat through detention without pain. Who cared about that stupid writing? Those are just words. They didn’t matter. What you just did… that mattered.

You couldn’t wait to tell George; when you returned to the common room you went directly to him, and told him everything about the numbing spell you found. He nodded without saying anything, occasionally glancing at your bleeding hand. You tried to wipe the blood away but it was difficult; the wound was bleeding more heavily than last time.

“Give me that,” said George after watching you struggling with a handkerchief. “And eat this.”

He gave you one side of a Nosebleed Nougat which reduced the bleeding at once. George got some gauze and bandaged your hand in silence. When he finished, he sighed deeply.

“I’m not sure I’m okay with this.”

“What d’you mean?” you said, confused.

“I mean this whole thing of yours. With Umbridge.”

“I’m still not following you.”

“You have to go tomorrow as well, right?” he said tensely. You shrugged.

“Yeah, so what? I can do all my homework in my free periods, I always have free time on the evenings —”

“You know very well it’s not about that.”

“Then what?”

“This… This stuff,” he indicated at your hand that he was still holding. “This will leave a mark. A couple of more nights and it won’t heal. It’ll stay there.”

“These are just words.”

“No, these are disgusting ways to put people down, I… I don’t want you walking around with this later, thinking of her every time you look at your hand — ”

“So you say I should just leave it alone? Would you do the same? Would you let her tell you who you could be with and who not?”

“It’s different, I’m not — ”

“You’re not a mudblood?” 

“Don’t say that word!” he snapped. “Don’t ever say that!”

He let go of your hand, taking shaky breaths. He shook his head.

“I meant… You still have another year after this one, you have to be careful, Y/N! I couldn’t care less if I was expelled, but I don’t want anything to happen to you! But she will figure out something, I know she will. Even McGonagall — ”

“Exactly,” you said. “Even McGonagall can’t do anything about her. I can’t just… I can’t just sit here watching her cross everyone anymore. I can’t. Even if she sends me to detention I… I cannot let her think that she broke us! That we’ll do everything according to her wishes!”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to,” he said drearily. “Look… isn’t the DA enough? Isn’t it good enough to know we’re doing something against her already?”

You gulped. You spoke in a low whisper.

“I cannot let her think that she can do anything to me.”

“So you’re just gonna keep on carving your hand, then?”

You didn’t say anything. You looked at George with a pleading look. He understood: you wouldn’t give in.

“I’m going to sleep,” he said and stood up.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Can’t deal with what?”

“You… That,” he pointed at your bandaged hand. “I just hope you’ll change your mind.”

But you didn’t. The next day you went to detention as well, just as the day after and the day after that. You perfected the numbing spell, though your hand was now so stiff you couldn’t hold the silverware in it properly. Umbridge let you alone for the weekend; on Friday night she probably assumed you’ll end up at the hospital wing from the loss of blood. Your hand was now bandaged all the time as the scar didn’t heal fast; after the sixth night it was just an open wound, failing to close as you were cutting it again and again.

After the eight detention you could almost see an impressed expression on Umbridge’s face as you were not giving up. She mainly gave you detention for not working during her class (which basically meant that you refused to read the given chapters of her idiotic book) or disagreeing with her repulsive comments and opinions.

George did not give up, neither, though his arguments became more desperate and angry. You knew he was fuming, and it was because of you, but he just couldn’t understand. Eventually he became quiet around you, looking as though he was fighting a sick feeling in his stomach every time you couldn’t fold a parchment or accidentally dropping your fork due to your stiff hand.

And after three weeks of detention, on a Thursday night, something happened that made you feel worse than ever during your meetings with Umbridge. You arrived at five o’clock as usual, sat down to your usual table and reached for the quill — but it wasn’t there.

“Start, please,” Umbridge said with an interesting smile. You shook your head.

“I don’t have a quill.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” she said giggling and walked to you with a quill in her hand. “Am I correct, assuming you’d like to work in the Ministry later?”

You were taken aback by her comment. How dis she know?

“I’m not so sure anymore,” you said, sending a sharp glance at her. She giggled.

“Trading, correct?” she said, giving you the quill with a brown feather in it. “Do you have any experience?”

“I…,” you were puzzled. “Some.”

“Mm…,” she said, then walked back to her table and sat down. “Start, please.”

You took the quill and wrote down ‘I mustn’t mix with purebloods’. The word didn’t even seem to make sense anymore. You just wrote them without thinking.

‘I mustn’t mix with purebloods’. The scar on your hand started bleeding already.

‘I mustn’t mix with purebloods’ Why was she asking you about your future plans? Ugly old toad, you’d work anywhere but where she was.

‘I mustn’t mix with purebloods’. Why hadn’t she prepared the quill when you arrived? And why did she make such a big deal out of it? What was this whole thing with trading?

‘I mustn’t mix with purebloods’. You looked at the feather. It was a familiar color of brown. And it seemed so soft, just like… just like…

Peanut.

Your hand stopped and you took a sudden breath. You haven’t seen Peanut since you sent him for the Quick Quotes Quills… You had thought he was just late, he had been late before… No… It cannot be… It can’t.

You looked at Umbridge who had not taken her eyes off you since you had started writing. She tilted her head a little, smiling.

“Such a nice piece of feather isn’t it?”

Your mouth opened as you were fighting for air; your eyes filled up with tears and even though you were struggling, you knew you couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“I think it’s enough for today,” she giggled. “Good night.”

You stood up and left without saying a word. Could she…? She couldn’t… That’d cross a line… But Peanut… You hadn’t seen him… No… Oh, no.

You hurriedly wiped your tears away since there were still people on corridors. You felt your heart sank as you were thinking about Peanut. You bought him, from your own money, the first pet you ever had, you’re only company at your parents’ house… She couldn’t… She couldn’t…

You made a run for it, you didn’t stop until the owlery. You called after Peanut but he didn’t came. He was not there. He wasn’t anywhere.

“No…,” you whispered, tears falling from your eyes.

You needed at least an hour to calm down, now all you felt was anger. You had had enough, you just wanted it to stop. You were so tired, so exhausted, you ruined your hand, you wanted to go home, but for you home was not a thing, home for you was Hogwarts and now you just couldn’t stand being here anymore.

You walked back to the common room, passing the stairs to the astronomy tower. You remembered when George and you lied to Filch about how you were coming from detention… Everything was so easy back then, everything was so easy…

When you stepped through the portrait hole you saw Fred at once, sitting on the couch by the fire, writing something. He only looked up when you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” you said hoarsly. He furrowed his brows in concern.

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, though nothing was okay. “What’re you writing?”

“Forms for orders. George told me how you ordered everything cheap, just because you filled out some paper.”

You nodded.

“Where is he?”

“Detention,” said Fred. “McGonagall. He didn’t do his homework three times in a row.”

“Why?” you raised an eyebrow. “He had plenty of time.”

Fred looked at you with pity.

“What do you think why, Y/N? You’re ruddy hand is giving him a hard time.”

You didn’t say anything. Fred put down the quill and turned to you with a stern expression, which was very rare of him.

“Listen, Y/N, you need to stop this. You’re making him mad.”

“Did he tell you to talk to me?” you asked, frowning.

“No, I do it because I want to. You maybe don’t see it, because he doesn’t tell you, but he’s miserable.”

“If he’s angry — ”

“He’s not angry anymore, he’s worried! And desperate, I’ve never seen him like this! You’re not only torturing yourself, you’re torturing him, too. Do you know how he feels when he looks at your bloody hand? Knowing those words will stay there forever? Knowing he can’t talk you out of this, because you won’t listen? Knowing you won’t understand that he’s scared for you?”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You were just staring into Fred’s eyes, those eyes which were so similar to those that you loved so much.

“He really feels like that?” you asked, whispering.

“He does, I’m telling you. Can’t even have a proper conversation with him. His mind is just somewhere else, and we both know where.”

You casted down your eyes. You had thought George was only angry because you were resisting Umbridge… You had had no idea he was worried about you. You felt horrible, thinking about how much you hurt him.

“I need to tell you something else, too,” continued Fred suddenly.

“Okay.”

“You’re not only hurting him, Y/N… You’re hurting me as well. He’s not the only one who feels horrible, looking at your hand. I don’t want you doing this to yourself. It’s not right. That woman’s vile. I don’t wanna see her when I look at you. And I don’t want you to be affected by her anymore. I… I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re like a sister to me.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your throat was dry and your lip trembled. You felt so horrible.

“I’m sorry.”

Fred’s eyes softened.

“I’m such an idiot,” you said, whispering.

“Yes, darling, you really are.”

You chuckled. Fred put an arm around you and pulled you closer. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Will he forgive me?”

“Of course, he will.”

“I still have detention until Christmas break, though. That’s six more days.”

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N…,” muttered Fred. Then he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m really tired,” you whispered, thinking about Peanut. You just wanted to cry. Feel a bit of relief… if that was possible.

“Going to sleep?” asked Fred, still hugging you. You nodded.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said and stood up as Fred’s arm fell off you. You turned towards your dormitory, but didn’t leave yet. “Fred?”

“Mm?”

You sent a sad smile at the man on the couch; the man who you loved, only differently.

“You’re like a brother to me, too.”

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probablyjustamagpie · 3 years

Text

So I wrote this last October, and figured I’d share. Hope you enjoy!

The Witch’s Brew

Inkblot, my raven, perches on my shoulder as I close the door to the dorm, cooing softly to the rhythm of my roommate’s snores from where she lays among a tangle of blankets. Our morning walk is quiet and uneventful, with the city just barely awake. The autumn air fills my lungs and I feel good despite the rather dreary weather of the morning. The rain patters gently as I walk, and I resolve to make myself a mocha when I get to the store to warm myself up.

The Witch’s Brew is only a few blocks away from the dorm, and is still technically on campus. Nora is already there when I arrive, getting the register ready. Inkblot swoops over to the ornate metal tree that many bird familiars like to inhabit when they come in. Occasionally, the odd raccoon or squirrel familiar will find their place there too. Nora and I smile at each other, but we don’t talk much unless it’s about work.

As I’m placing the last of the blueberry muffins in the glass display case, the first of the morning coffee rush begins to trickle in. The day always starts the same way, with the early morning regulars hurrying in to get their caffeine fix, off to their office jobs. Nora and I rush to get all the orders out in time; macchiato with a luck enchantment, plain black coffee with a joy enchantment, a regular cinnamon bun, the list only goes on and on and the rain only drums harder and harder on the windows.

The morning coffee surge is still in full swing nearly an hour later, but now it's more tourists and travelers, bright eyed and bushy tailed, sometimes literally. The full moon was last night, so tired werewolves are commonplace this morning.

It’s yet another hour and a half before Micha and Cecily wander in. They'd promised that they were going to stop by, just like every week. By now it was just another part of our routine. Cecily always orders iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso and two pumps of vanilla, while Micha likes to switch it up. Neither of them ever asks for an enchantment on their drink.

“What will it be, oh-indecisive-one?” I ask Micha as he stares helplessly at the menu.

Alphonse, his familiar, peers at me from the pocket in Micha’s hoodie, before scrabbling up his arm and curling his long ferret body around Micha’s shoulders like a fluffy, living scarf.

“Uh, Chai tea? With extra cinnamon?”

“Hot or cold?” “Hot. Seems too late in the year to get it iced.”

“Lame,” interjects Cecily, “It is never too cold for iced coffee!”

“You are a living stereotype,” Micha tells her.

I make their drinks quickly, as they head off to find one of the unclaimed tables among the crowded coffee shop. The Witch’s Brew is a popular place, big windows and lots of seating, though most of it is now taken. Along one side of the main counter, there is a bar of sorts, where people can sit, order drinks, and chat with the baristas as they zip around. It’s there that Micha and Cecily inevitably find themselves..

“It’s only because we don’t want to take up a table. We definitely wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“Mmhmm, somehow I don’t believe you, Cess,” I say, handing them their drinks.

I turn back to the door in time to catch a flash of bright red hair, a smiling face, and a denim jacket coming through the glass doors. My calm demeanor cracks for a moment and I’m certain my mouth won’t close all the way.

There is one girl from school who I am absolutely terrified of talking to, and that's Blaine Rynn, the owner of that bright, soft hair, that kind and stunning smile, that fur-lined and pin-covered jacket. I’ve never seen a pride pin on it, though, and thus is the endless torment of a gay girl.

I whirl back to Micha and Cecily, who snicker. As my best friends they, of course, have been subjected to my endless pining for the one girl I can’t muster the guts to talk too. But Nora is helping someone else, and I shall never cease suffering, so I make my way to the register.

“Hello! Welcome to the Witch’s Brew, what can I get you today?” My brain goes into autopilot, and I plaster on my best customer service smile.

“I’ll get an iced caramel mocha - for here, please.”

That only reminds me of the mocha I never made this morning, and suddenly I wish I was making that instead. Nevertheless, I try to make some semblance of conversation, though my voice shakes just a little. “Squeezing out the last few days of the season?”

“It's never too cold for iced coffee.”

I laugh a little, finally look Blaine in the eyes, and smile. Tamping down the little flare in my chest, I try to return to the task at hand. Iced coffee year-round does not mean she’s gay, despite to jokes Micha and I make.

“Anything else?” My voice comes out an octave too high.

“Uh, maybe a blueberry muffin too. Luck enchantment on the coffee, please.”

I nod, and ring her up, silent. I no longer trust my voice.

“I like your glasses by the way. They’re cute.” Blaine says, before finding a table.

“Thanks!” I say, and in that moment, my face gets oh-so-very warm.

Her order shouldn’t take much time, but it takes longer for me to make than normal due to Micha and Cecily winking at me and making faces. The sigil for the enchantment is easy enough when I cast it on her glass, and using my magic steals something inside me, easing the stormy sea that is my stomach.

I place it delicately at her table, and she smiles so brightly when I give it to her that I almost ask her out right there, but I hold myself back. You hardly know her, Tia, I try to remind myself. Well, you know she volunteers at the aquarium, and takes bio with Iris, and that she’s a selkie. You know Blaine has the best smiles and her choppy bob is perpetually messy in a stylish way, and she always steps on the crunchy leaves, and-

I shake my head a little as I make my way back to the counter. That line of thinking never leads anywhere good.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Cecily asks.

“No.”

“Just do it! What could go wrong?”

“So, so much. She could be straight, she could be homophobic, she could just plain not be interested!”

“But do you know that?” Micha adds.

“No?” I despise his voice of reason.

“Then ask!” they say at the same time.

“I - no. Too much could go wrong.”

Cecily grabs a pen from the counter, and scribbles a note on the just slightly coffee-stained napkin next to her.

“Inkblot!”

He swoops over, and lands at her side.

“Give this to the selkie over in the window, please.”

In a traitorous swish of black feathers, he does.

“Cecily!” I say, loudly enough that a patron or two gives me a look.

I look over at Blaine, who seems perplexed at the bird now trying to drop a napkin in her drink. When she grabs it though, and reads it, her face turns a light shade of pink. It's a really cute blush, in all honesty, and her freckles contrast against the red of her cheeks.

I watch as she stands up, and Inkblot flutters back to me, like he didn’t sign my death warrant. As she makes her way over, I swear someone must have done a time freeze spell, because even the rain seems to stop.

“Was this yours?”

“Yeah, the little traitor bird belongs to me.”

Blaine laughs a bit, and the full force of her smile shines on me, rendering me somewhat speechless.

“I think my luck enchantment worked. I’ll, uh, call you tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight works.” I give her a smile too, and the little flare in my chest turns to a blaze.

As Blaine walks back to her table, Micha gives me a ‘I told you so’ look, which Alphonse mimics. I can’t help but laugh at how easy and simple that was, and how light I feel now.

“Perhaps, just maybe, I should listen to you two more often.”

Cecily and Micha leave soon after, coffee finished and homework looming, and I find the rest of the day passes in a blur. When I leave the shop in the late afternoon, there’s a spring in my step and I practically float, despite not casting any spells. Inkblot soars above me, enjoying the clear sky. The leaves seem a little brighter in color on the few trees along the sidewalk, the sky a fresh, bright blue after the morning rain.

#writing #writers on tumblr #original short story #short story #my writting #lesbian #bisexual #lgbtq characters #coffee shop #my ocs

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yourkimjaejin · 3 years

Text

⏱AURORA : 3-4PM｜NCT 24hr RELAY CAM

“Anyeonghaseyo yeoreobun.” Aurora starts the video messing up her hair. The nineteen year old was filming in her dorm room. Behind her was her bed and closet. Along the walls of her room were dangling lights, illuminating the room. Aurora was barefaced, wearing black t-shirt with grey drawstring shorts.

“It’s my turn for the relay cam.” Aurora showed her phone screen, a picture of sheet music on it. “It’s 3pm and I just finished the school day. I was scared when we were picking times because if I had picked anytime before now, I would have filmed myself in school.” Aurora laughs. She moves across the room and sits down at a desk. Aurora sets down the camera.

“Well since we’re here, I’ll begin my video by doing the most glamorous thing a kpop idol can do………..,” She flashes her notebooks, “HOMEWORK!!!” She sits the notebooks down and picks up a pen.

“I only got a tiny bit of homework because I’m one of those students who finishes assignments between classes. This should only take a second but future editor of this footage, let’s speed this up.”

The video goes into a time lapse but a couple seconds later the video slows back down when Aurora gets a knock on her door.

“Come in!” Aurora calls out and Juno walks through the door.

“Hey! Do you want anything from Starbucks? Jaehyun oppa’s buying.” Juno asks.

“Let me get the romantic strawberry tea. Tell oppa I’ll pay him back.” Aurora replies but Hannah laughs, “Good luck with that.” Juno walks out, shutting the door behind her and the video speeds back up. Occasionally, Aurora will glance at the camera or pick up her phone. When the time lapse is over, Music is playing in the background. (Garden ~ Meet Me @ The Altar)

“Finally DONE!” Aurora stretches. “Jaehyun oppa’s on his way with drinks but until then…..I did tweet out for fans to leave some questions so I’ll go check them out.” Aurora picks up her phone and begins scrolling.

“Here’s one. Aurora, do you plan to go to college after graduating high school?” Aurora sighs, “I promised my parents I would at least finish high school. Seeing as this is my final year of school, because in Korea high school is only three years, I have to think about it soon.” Aurora scratches at her arm, “I think I’m gonna take a break after high school and focus on AG and other promotions wink wink.”

“Another question is from @Borealis, this person is one of my biggest twitter fan pages in the US, I’ve seen their posts and I want to thank them for support but their question is Are there any video games that I am into? The answer is yes. I’m huge into Stardew Valley, Mortal Kombat and the Injustice games. I play Stardew the most but if I just casually want to play something, I’ll pick up either Injustice or Mortal Kombat. I even have injustice on my phone. Maybe one day I’ll film a video showing you guys by set up and stuff.” Aurora continued to answer questions until she got another knock on her door.

“Come In!” Aurora shouts.

“What’s up, small fry!” Johnny walks in carrying her drink. “Here’s your tea, We got it extra sweet just in case.”

Aurora grabs the cup and takes a sip, “Ahhh! Perfect. Thank you so much oppa! Let me grab some cash to pay Jaehyun back.”

“Don’t bother! I paid for it.” Johnny sits on her bed, “Is this your relay cam!? Hello everyone!!!” Johnny waves to the camera. Aurora holds out the cash for Johnny. Johnny takes the money but sneaks it under her covers.

“Yeah I only have ten minutes left. What are you doing here oppa?” Aurora asks, taking another sip of her drink.

“We’re dropping Hannah off and picking Moxy up to spend the night. She told me it would be easier to film her and Doyoung’s video for the relay if she stayed over cause they both have to be up early.” Aurora nods along.

“Johnny oppa!!” A voice calls out.

“IN HERE!” Johnny calls back. Moxy walks in with a bag over her shoulder.

“I’m ready.” Moxy has her glasses on. She’s wearing black camo sweatpants and black hoodie.

“Say hi to czennies, Noona” Aurora points that camera to her and Moxy waves with a small smile. “Did you finish your homework?” Moxy asks.

“Yeah.” Johnny stands up and pats Aurora’s shoulder. “We’re gonna get outta here. See you later small fry. Bye czennies!!” Both Johnny and Moxy wave to the camera as they walk out. Aurora turns the camera back to her.

“Alright well, It's 3:59. It looks like my time is up. I’ll see you soon, Annyeong!!” Aurora waves to the camera. The video ends catching Jaehyun shouting goodbyes to AG’s youngest.

#NCT #NCT AG #NCT AG.Video #NCT AG.Aurora #nct female member #nct female unit #nct female addition #kpop addition #kpop!au #kpop!fakegroup #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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thewinedark · 3 years

Note

What sort of time schedule do you think is best? Waking up, working, sleeping etc...

I have the most awful schedule since leaving school and I still have no idea how to study. Now I’m at uni, sleeping at 5am and getting up after midday!

Anon, it sounds like you desperately need to form a healthy daily routine that prioritizes sleep, eating, and exercising. I took an entire class on this last semester, and I cannot emphasize enough how vital those three things are for your mental, physical, and educational health. Please take the advice I offer here, because it can have a huge impact on pretty much every area of your life.

SLEEP. It is so important for you, especially as a student, to get a full eight hours of sleep, and to try to maintain the times you start and stop sleeping. For me, sleep is a main priority because I know that when my sleep schedule slips, I am very vulnerable to depressive episodes. It’s also super vital for making sure everything you study actually sticks in your brain, as well as a ton of other student-related things that I won’t go into here but let me just say cannot be sacrificed. When exactly this eight hour period starts is up to you, and when your classes start. Last semester my first class started at ten, and I woke up at eight. This gave me a full two hours to wake up, exercise, make breakfast, and do any homework or readings that I missed before class. Around eight is my preferred wakeup time, but it depends on your personal productivity levels and when your classes start. I would not recommend sleeping past ten though. Make a firm decision on when you will go to sleep, and when you will wake up, and refuse to allow anything to interfere with this, even studying or homework. Sometimes you might slip, and spend an extra half an hour on your phone before bed or something, or decide to sleep in a bit one day. This is fine, so long as you adjust your schedule accordingly to get those eight hours, and you only allow it to happen occasionally.

Exercise. After I wake up, I spend an average of 30 minutes working out and exercising in some capacity. Again, I won’t go into all the scientific details in a Tumblr post, but the short of it is that getting your heartbeat up, particularly with some form of aerobic exercise, has drastic effects on your ability to learn, as well as your mental and physical health. Also, studies show that no matter how small the amount of exercise, it still has positive effects, so even if all you feel capable of is ten minutes of yoga and a couple jumping jacks, it’s beneficial. Still, I’d recommend 30-40 minutes if you’re able. You really just need a few square feet of space, no need to go to the gym (unless that helps you stick to your routine or do specific exercises). There are tons of exercise videos on YouTube, I know Chloe Ting has a cult following for her beginner ab workouts, maybe try them.

Eat. Give yourself the protein and carbs you need for energy and brain power before you head to classes or to get work done. During school semesters, I generally give myself two quick and easy options for breakfast, so I can’t weasel my way out of making it. Either avocado on toast or an egg on english muffin. Protein, carbs, tasty, and can be made in under ten minutes. Cooking and eating gives you time to relax and prepare for classes and work, and after you finish, you can go get dressed (in a wonderful dark academic-style outfit, I’m sure) and head to whatever things you need to get done.

Once you have a morning routine that works for you, it’s easy to fill in the gaps where classes or work goes. And from there you can figure out times to devote to studying, homework, clubs, etc. If you don’t already have one, definitely get a calendar to put down deadlines, and I’d recommend a weekly planner as well. Please take care of yourself, and work to find ways to maintain your health and get the most out of your education.

#me shaking anon by the shoulders #5am????#NOOOO #SLEEP PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD #asks #lifestyle #studyblr #serena speaks

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

Text

Open Home, Open Arms

Stephen's Mama Bear senses tingles before the teenagers even stepped off of the elevator. Someone was upset and he soon discovered that it was Cassie when the elevator doors opened. He would have gotten up to approach her to make sure she was okay, but Valerie was currently in his lap and eating off of his plate full of veggie sticks. It had turned into a norm for him. He would make himself a snack and sit at the table with a book while he munched, and then suddenly have a lapful of his youngest daughter so she could eat off his plate. He was just glad that she ate what she took and didn't put it back on his plate.

"Cassie? What's wrong?" The sorcerer asks and the girl bites her lip.

Peter seemed to have been comforting her as they stepped off the elevator, and when they did, that was when Stephen noticed that it wasn't just the four usual kids returning from school. Ned and MJ were visiting as well. Cassie motions to Peter that she was okay, and the spiderling hesitates before letting her walk over to Stephen while he and Harley went up to Peter's room with Ned and MJ. Diana went to her usual spot at the coffee table to do her homework and then color or watch TV when she was finished. Stephen waits patiently as Cassie sits across from him at the table and they both smile when Valerie silently offers the older girl a carrot stick, which Cassie accepts with a quiet thank you.

"I think...I think one of my friends is living on the streets." Cassie finally elaborates before taking a bite of her carrot stick.

"Do you know why?" Stephen asks gently.

"He's in the system...and he's been having trouble with the latest family he was living with. He's come to school with bruises and-"

"Where is he now?" Stephen interrupts.

Not only was Mama Bear coming out, but the doctor in him was worried about Cassie's friend. From her explanation, her friend was very likely abused to the point that he risked living on the streets than to endure another night with his foster family. He was possibly malnourished, hurt, and who knew what else and Stephen wouldn't stand for it. His deeply ingrained maternal side wouldn't allow it.

"I think in an alley near my school." Cassie says quietly and Stephen stands with Valerie.

"Cub...will you be okay if I leave you with your brothers for a few minutes?" Stephen gently asks the little girl who nods in response. "I'll be right back." He assures Cassie as he takes his youngest daughter up to Peter's room. "Watch your sister for a few minutes please."

"Sure." Peter says and Harley pulls Valerie into his lap before the boys return their attention to the Lego set Ned brought. MJ was contently reading a book on Peter's bed.

"Thank you. Diana is down in the living room. Just keep an ear out for her. I'm leaving the door open so you can."

Stephen leaves the bedroom after another affirmation from the boys and walks back down the stairs to rejoin Cassie. When she gives him an approximate location to her friend's location, the sorcerer opens a gateway and they step through to search for him. Cassie leads the way to the alleyway she last saw her friend, and when they walk a few feet into it, Stephen stops completely in his tracks.

Not because of the black-haired teenager sitting against the alley wall and visibly doing his homework...but because of the magic Stephen could sense coming off the boy in waves. Did he harm his foster parents in an attempt to defend himself and ran once he revealed his powers? Or was his previous assumption correct?

"William?" Cassie calls softly and the boy startles before looking over at them.

"Cass? What are you doing here?" He asks timidly and with some suspicion.

"I brought Mo--er...Dr. Strange. I had a feeling you needed help."

"Are you here by choice or because you have to be?" Stephen asks William.

"Choice." He admits quietly. "We couldn't handle another day there."

"We?" Both Stephen and Cassie ask simultaneously and William nods.

"My twin brother is with me...well…getting food I think."

As if on cue, another boy with platinum blonde hair passes Cassie and Stephen to stand between them and William.

"I recognize Cassie. Who's the guy?"

Stephen clears his throat. "Doctor Strange. I could give you a handful of titles I hold at home but perhaps Sorcerer Supreme is the best one at this time. I protect this reality...and I can sense William's magic." The twins look at Stephen in surprise and then at Cassie. "She'll keep your secret. For now, would you two like to come stay in the Avengers Tower with us? You'll be safe there."

The twins look at each other and then William stands up with his and his brother's belongings. "...really?"

"As long as you obey the rules. There are a couple of magic users that can help you with your magic, including myself." Stephen turns to the other boy. "Do you have any abilities?"

"I can run really fast." He shrugs.

"What's your name?" The sorcerer asks.

"Thomas. My friends call me Tommy."

Stephen nods and turns to the side to open a gateway back to the tower. He motions the three teenagers through, Cassie being the first, and once they step through, Stephen follows them and closes the gateway behind them. The twins jump when Athena growls at them from the living room, but Stephen immediately calms her.

"It's alright. They're friends." He soothes and the wolf relaxes from her defensive stance to walk to Stephen's side.

"You have a wolf for a pet?" Thomas asks.

"Yes and no. She's more of a companion." Stephen explains as he pets Athena's head. "How does pizza sound? I already have two extra teenagers to feed and I don't really feel like cooking today. You can meet everyone at dinner."

Thomas and William nod and the sorcerer asks Friday to order the usual pizza order with a couple extra before directing the twins to the living room. The moment they sit on the couch and crack open their books again, Diana looks up from her spot on the floor and studies them curiously. Stephen would bet money that she could sense the magic coming off of William as well. She doesn't ask or say anything for the time being and Cassie turns to Stephen with a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Mom."

"You're welcome. I'll have to figure out where they'll stay after breaking the news to Tony." Stephen says with a smirk and Cassie giggles.

"Good luck with that. I'll go do my homework with them."

Stephen nods and takes the stairs up to Peter's room and smiles when he opens the door and Valerie immediately reaches for him. If he didn't immediately come get her after coming back home and she found out, she would be upset. She was very much the Mama's girl that everyone claimed her to be. Stephen picks her up and thanks the boys before informing the teens about pizza being in the way, then takes Valerie back down to clean up their vegetable plate they had left behind. He could always store the remaining pieces away and eat them at a later time.

"Hey Duchess." Tony greets when he steps off the elevator and joins his spouse in the kitchen. "I have some new upgrades for your suit so I'll need your--" Tony stops in his brief rambling when he looks toward the living room and sees the new teenagers with Cassie and Diana. "Who are they?"

"William and Thomas. They'll be staying in the tower."

Tony gives him a look. "Honey...you can't adopt every kid you come across."

"They were living in an alleyway. Besides, they have powers." Stephen huffs. "I was thinking of having them stay down with Wanda and Vision if they're okay with it."

"Oh...alright. I guess I'll have Pepper bring the proper paperwork so guardianship can be given to us." Tony scratches his goatee as he thinks to himself and Stephen smiles before kissing him.

"Thank you."

Pizza came not long after and the rest of the team were called up for a mandatory dinner so they could meet the twins. To no surprise, they were welcomed with open arms and quickly treated as family, and the twins visibly relaxed. Wanda and Vision agreed to let them stay in the extra rooms on their floor, and the witch was excited to have someone to cook for. Of course she periodically cooked for the whole team, but the idea that she could just cook for a couple of people every day was appealing. She liked cooking, just not always for the entire team.

"Okay...so rules." Tony starts and both Thomas and William look up at him from their slices of pizza. "One, what Mom says...goes. Thomas, no running in the tower unless it's down on the training floor and you're careful. William, no practicing magic unless you're with Mama Bear, Wanda, or Loki." When he gets nods from the twins, he continues. "No pissing off the gods, especially Quill. It's a rule that Harley doesn't seem to follow."

Said teen blinks from his occasional glances at William and looks up at his father. "Huh?"

"Nothing. Eat your food Spudicus."

Harley grumbles at the nickname and returns to eating his dinner as Tony lists off the remaining rules to the twins. Stephen noted the glances (and at one point staring) that Harley gave William, but said nothing. He wasn't quite sure if it was infatuation or just plain curiosity yet. When dinner was eaten, Stephen had Wanda and Vision take the twins downstairs to get accommodated with the promise that he would ask Friday to order them anything they needed. He also told Thomas and William that they could come up whenever they wanted whether it was to ask Tony or Stephen a question or simply just to hang out, whether it would be with their kids or not.

Now all Stephen had to do was give them a physical, but that could wait for a little bit so they could get settled.

"You really are a Mama Bear." Tony mutters as he wraps an arm around Stephen's shoulders after they sit on the couch.

"The doctor made the decision too." The sorcerer chuckles and their kids turn on a movie.

"We should take them to the lake house sometime. Especially so Thomas can actually run around freely." Peter says and the parents nod.

"I think we're overdue for a barbeque anyway. It can be a welcome to our functioning, dysfunctional family party." Tony answers with a chuckle.

"Do not make a game out of annoying Quill." Stephen warns with a pointed look at Harley who rolls his eyes.

"It's not a game Mom. I'm just testing my potato gun. It's surprise testing!"

"No."

The oldest teen huffs. "You suck the fun out of everything."

"That's what moms do." Stephen responds with a smirk.

#supremefamily #mama bear stephen strange #mama bear au #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #cassie lang #tony stark #ironstrange

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lutrain2020 · 4 years

Text

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Seeking7 or Seeking!

Commission: I don't offer writing commissions at the moment, mostly because I'm not sure how to conduct or present myself in the market. If anyone would like to request a certain fic or short story from me, however, I'd be glad to work out details with them. :)

Social Media: A03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeking7 FFnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/13334645/

Tell us a little bit about you!

Hiya! I'm Seeking7, or Seeking. I was born in Alabama and raised in California to a pair of the most hardworking Egyptian immigrants you've ever met, and the mixture of Arabic and American influence over the course of my life has had a profound influence on the way I look at the world. My favorite subjects are biology and english, and I aspire to become either an EMT or military medic after I graduate. In regards to hobbies (aside from playing copious amounts of Zelda), I love studying American and Ancient Israelite history, and I hope to one day learn ancient Hebrew and Greek so I can read the original biblical manuscripts for myself!

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing?

While my own brain can usually come up with a certain scene or idea that would inspire me to put paper to pen, it's the people I have around me that encourage me to keep writing. The people on FFN and AO3 who comment and leave kudos on my work mean the world to me (shout out to JoSeBach on FFN and MyWritingisMeh on Ao3 for leaving comments/reviews on each chapter of my fic "Mephibosheth"). The LU fans who come to my livewrites on the discord are so ridiculously encouraging and always let me know that my writing can actually be interesting to some people -- a fact that never ceases to astound me. But most credit goes to my younger sister. Even when I don't show her a work because it might be a little bit extreme or intense for her age, she always lets me know that she's sure it's good regardless. Her unconditional, unreasonable support inspires me to be that kind of person to other fic writers!

What got you into writing?

Three books in particular encouraged me to take writing seriously. "Crime and Punishment" was the first in this process, showcasing just how intense, beautiful, and profound a book with actually very little plot can be. The entire book takes place more or less in the head of a man wracked to pieces by guilt, and Dostoevsky's decision to focus on internal instead of external conflict changed the way I looked at literature. "East of Eden" was next. It wasn't just the book's allegorical nature or the Cain and Abel motif that astounded me - Steinbeck's vivid descriptions of everything from the human mind to sunrise in Salinas has had a profound impact on my own writing. I still reference the first few pages when I write! (actually, if you look at my fic "The Most Sincere Kind of Lie," the opening paragraph is heavily inspired by the first page of East of Eden!) Finally, the biblical Book of Job changed the way I look at dialogue and interactions between flawed characters. The whole book is almost written like an ancient screenplay and deals with heavy questions like the meaning of pain and the meaning of meaninglessness without offering direct answers - which inspired me to try and include those questions in my own writing and handle them in a similar, vague, interperative way.

What's your favorite part of the writing process?

After outlining a fic, I usually start out by writing them like a screenplay with all dialogue tags and action notes written off to the side. When sarcastic banter, silly, lighthearted interactions, or intense conversations with a deeper meaning behind them start to come together, I can't help but smile. That usually gives the the extra inspirational boost I need to go back and flesh everything out so it becomes a story! (if you struggle with writing dialogue, message me on the discord and I'll be glad to tell you everything I know and send you the multitude of resources I have on the subject)

What's your least favorite part of the writing process?

Vetting works for grammatical mistakes turns writing fics into homework! I can't stand posting something and later reading just to find out that I forgot to capitalize a character's name, or that a comma is missing, or that Ao3 or FFN messed up the page breaks and I have to go back in and fix it. I'm not a perfectionist most of the time, but when I come to writing, I absolutely am.

Whats your favorite type of scene to write?

Intense philosophical debates and serious heart-to-heart conversations are by far my favorite kind of scenes to write, and that's because they're my favorite kind of scenes to observe and read! I always leave them feeling like I've gained something intellectually and emotionally, and it's my constant hope and dream to be able to impart the same kind of introspective thoughtfulness on the reader.

What's the hardest for you to write?

Allowing or even plotting for a character to go off the deep end is always such a hard thing to write. Not for them to die, necessarily, but for them to completely lose their morals, priorities, and relationships in search for something selfish or temporary. Writing them making the same mistakes over and over not because they're stupid but because they don't care about the consequences is always hard -- it's like killing off a character and replacing them with the darkest, nastiest version of themselves. Basically, writing the opposite of character development is the opposite of fun. :(

What's your favorite genre to write?

Whatever the hybrid child of angst and fluff is called, that's my baby. I find that a combination of the two can make for a really interesting experience and give me more space to explore different faucets of each character's personality. It's also the perfect breeding ground for some intense, sincere conversations.

What fandoms do you enjoy writing for?

I don't write for a lot of fandoms, just Linked Universe, Undertale, and occasionally LoZ stuff not tied directly to our nine precious boys.

What's the work you are most proud of?

I've only gotten into LU very recently, so at the time of writing this I don't have anything from the fandom that's ready to showcase. I do have some cool Undertale stuff though, at least in my opinion! If you're interested in that, there are two fics I've poured (and am currently pouring) my heart and soul into that I'm extremely proud of. The first one is 'The Reason,' which is just a quick oneshot focused on Grillby being an amazing, hardworking dad, (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354130) and the second is Mephibosheth,' my multi-chapter pre-canon fic about the lives of Asriel and Chara. '(https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804797)

Is there a specific scene you are particularly proud of?

Going again off the works I referenced earlier, a particular scene in the ninth chapter of 'Mephibosheth' had me patting myself on the back. I can't tell you what it is, though, because it's a massive spoiler. ;)

Is there something you had to work through that forced you to grow as a writer?

At the beginning of my junior year of high school I submitted two works into a competition I was confident I would win. No, not just win, I was sure I would get first place nationally. The competition never had many submissions and I knew that the works I submitted were pretty darn good. As you can probably guess, I didn't win anything. No medal or mention, nothing. I was in shock for a good few days and considering giving up writing completely. Then I realized how stupid I was being for assuming I was entitled to an award, for writing something only for recognition, and for thinking that I should give up on something I love so much just because it didn't supply me with the endorphin rush I thought it would. I made it a goal to improve as much as humanly possible afterwards, and I'm happy to say that I think I'm making progress towards that!

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Every gremlin-like thing the boys do in my WIP LU fic "The Most Sincere Kind of Lie" (by the time this is up, it'll probably be on Ao3) is based off something I've seen my brother and sister do. They're the embodiment of utter chaos and the manifestation of the primal urge to destroy, so they're great inspiration for Link shenanigans. Also, almost all of the banter in 'Mephibosheth' has taken inspiration from one of three places; conversations I've had with my grandparents, conversations I've had with my siblings, or interviews I've watched online. Inspiration for thought-provoking dialogue has to come somewhere that's not my own brain - there aren't enough brain cells to bear the brunt of that creative burden!

Where do you post your finished works?

I post on FFN and Ao3, both under the alias Seeking7. What's that, you say? You want a link to my profile? Well, who am I to refuse?? (AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeking7) (FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/13334645/)

#Meet The Creator #lutrain2020 #linkeduniverse #lu

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emerald-studies · 4 years

Note

I think what you are going through is totally understandable but Black Lives Matter means your life too. Your health as an activist and leader in the movement matters. I know some Black women find Audre Lorde’s writing on self care useful. I know you will have her work already. As much as possible be surrounded by collective loving comrades because fighting white supremacy is afaik set up to kill you. Every time you do the self care you already listed is an act of resistance.

Hm thank you.

I love Audre Lorde.

Here’s an extra long response:

The funny thing is, I have surrounded myself with comrades, but that meant ending my friendships with all the non-Black people in my life.

All.

That’s how bad the ignorance is. I had an Asian “friend” tell me that she didn’t want to watch The 13th because she “didn’t have enough time” and that instead she “goes on TikTok to educate herself”.

Before anyone excuses this by saying there are helpful resources on TikTok:

If you can’t sit your ass down and watch a few documentaries that contain 10000000% more VALUABLE information than the 10 seconds you watch occasionally, you. do. not. care.

I had my white “friends” tell me to “calm down” or that “things will be ok” or “don’t worry about it”....when I really just needed them to be there for me, not FIX me.

I took a break from Tumblr (I hoped it would be forever) but I had constant messages of

“Is this racist?”

“What about this:____? Is this racist?”

“How do I be less racist?”

People want me to do their own homework, constantly. I had 50 unread messages just full of that shit at one point.

Leaving was helpful. But I think soon I’ll have to make a pros and cons list of being on here. The nice messages are always overshadowed my the idiots and the attention-seeking, lazy, “do good-ers”.

Sooo I really don’t know what self-care is. And I just don’t get it. I guess if I had any friends that actually could make an effort to be good people, that’d be nice. But so far, I’m considered:

1. A problem that they feel obligated to fix (fix, meaning, shove away)

2. An annoyance

3. A “downer”

4. Abrasive/rude

As I’m writing this essay lol I realize that the best form of self care I can get is only really from others.

If someone calls me and says, “I’m here for you. I’m going to do everything in my power to become anti-racist and educate myself because you matter and I love you.”

That would literally let me finally breathe.

I need that.

I don’t need the “I’m sorry” -s

I need the “I’m fucking angry this is still happening to people who look like you and I’m going to finally let myself feel uncomfortable and actually learn.��

I just don’t think any of you understand. (non-Black I mean)

I’m not just doing all of this just because I’m Black.

I’m doing this because I feel scared and alone. I’m scared that that cop, 5 feet from me, can decide that I don’t deserve to live anymore.

I’m scared of being murdered, you’re scared of being called a racist.

#ask #askfaith

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justaghostingon · 4 years

Text

Merfolk are Overrated

Chapter 4: To The Shore

Kodya’s class takes a fieldtrip, and it goes about as well as can be expected when you let three curious mermaids loose in a general store.

Read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041904/chapters/62957779

Or below the cut

As the weeks rolled by, a pattern began to emerge. Kodya would wake up early and go out fishing, just like before. Only now three bright-colored heads would rise from the water to greet him as soon as he cut the engine, the Kid at the forefront with some small gift to appease Kodya. He would still set out the nets, like always. But now a mermaid or two would be there to try and help. Occasionally one, usually Red, would get stuck and need to be cut out. Kodya would still eat his lunches out on the water like always, but now those lunches would be shared by three mermaids chattering and snacking themselves. Even Fluffy would mime out an opinion or two. Then after lunch, Kodya would start teaching.

Gyrus was, by far, the best student Kodya had ever seen. It took him almost no time to learn basic math, and soon he was calculating faster and with greater accuracy than Kodya himself could. Kodya had once tried to explain how budgeting worked to illustrate why his nets were so important, and by that evening Gyrus had completely reorganized his budget to the point where he was saving more money than he’d thought was possible. In all honesty, Kodya was pretty sure Gyrus was some kind of super genius, and found he was rapidly running out of things to teach him.

If he’d only known the Kid, Kodya is pretty sure that he would have chalked up Gyrus’ super-intelligence to just a siren thing. But alas, it appeared that great age did not translate to skill with numbers, as both Fluffy and Red were leagues behind. Not that they were terrible, Kodya begrudgingly noted that if they had been to elementary school together they both have had higher grades than he did. But they needed a slower pace, and often Kodya found he had to slow down the lesson to accommodate them.

If teaching them all math had been their only goal, Kodya would have tried giving Fluffy and Red more class hours while sending the Kid off to do homework or something. But neither Fluffy or Red showed any particular interest in putting extra work into improving their own skills. They’d put up a show to support Gyrus of course, but Fluffy’s constant fidgeting and Red’s frustrated growls made it very clear they did not really want to be there. This in turn made Gyrus get distracted trying to explain and keep them interested, meaning he didn’t advance either. Eventually Kodya just got tired of it and told them to go out and help fish every other afternoon, while he focused on more advanced material with Gyrus.

This they happily accepted, only attending class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and leaving Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to the Kid and Kodya. Kodya would never admit it, but these days were his favorite. He’d stay out way longer than he usually did, just to keep whatever conversation the Kid inevitably dragged him into going. He hadn’t enjoyed another person’s company this much since he’d met Nephthys.

Nephthys noticed the change in behavior, commenting about how mopey he got while away from the sea, and giggling that he might have gotten a boyfriend he didn’t tell her about. Kodya was quick to deny this, but more than willing to talk about whatever trouble Red, Fluffy, and the Kid got into, under the pretense of being pesky dolphins of course. Such stories would appease her curiosity, and she rarely went beyond light teasing as she watched Kodya inevitably perk up as the weekend drew to a close and Monday neared.

It was on one such Monday that Kodya finally worked up the courage to ask Gyrus a question that had been weighing on him for a while.

“So how old are you anyways?” Kodya said, eyes on the white board as he wrote out a few problems he’d created based off of his and Nephthys’s shopping lists and an old book about store finance.

“Probably around your age,” Gyrus shrugged, to absorbed in his work on the problems to notice the way Kodya had shut the book to look at him sharply.

“And how old do you think I am?” Kodya pressed.

“I don’t know, 200s right?” Gyrus glanced up at him, and finally seemed to realize something was wrong. “Are you older?” He offered, looking embarrassed, and not at all like a being who was most certainly not a kid.

“I’m 24,” Kodya stated, voice flat. Now what am I going to call you? He mentally despaired.

“24?” Gyrus’ mouth fell open. “But you can’t be! You’re clearly an adult!”

“Of course I’m an adult!” Kodya crossed his arms, “I’ve been an adult for six years!”

“18?” Gyrus’ tail twitched in agitation. “Humans reach maturity so young? How long do you live?”

Kodya shifted uncomfortably at his tone, feeling slightly offended. He wasn’t the weird one here. “We live to be around 80? Some a bit less and some a bit longer, you know, a normal amount.”

“That’s so short,” Gyrus shook his head. “I can’t even…how can you stand it?”

“Hey!” Kodya scowled down at Gyrus, “Most creatures live way shorter life spans, so I’d say you living so long is the weird one here. We do just fine with 80 years thanks.”

Gyrus placed his head in his hands. “Every time I think I’m beginning to understand humans, I find out there’s so much more I don’t know.” He looked very small then, and forlorn. Kodya felt his anger dissipate.

“Look, Kid,” he said, drawing the last word on his tongue to see if Gyrus would notice and protest. He didn’t, and so Kodya plowed on. “You’re doing fine. You’ve learned everything I taught you way quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Not everything,” Gyrus sighed as he picked up his whiteboard. “I can do the calculations, sure, but I don’t really get all the words. Like this one,” he pointed to a problem, “35 cents for bananas. What are bananas? I know they must be food from how you talk about them, but I have no idea what they look like. And this!” He jabbed a finger at one of the words, “Bug spray! How do you get something as small as a bug to spray anything?”

“Slow down Kid,” Kodya interrupted and Gyrus deflated at the sound of his voice. “I can bring you a banana and bug spray if you want.”

“But even if you did, there would inevitably be something else I can’t picture or misunderstand. I just wish,” he sighed again, pulling his emerald tail close around his body. “I just wish I could see it all for myself.”

His lower lip started to tremble, and Kodya felt his heart clench at the sight. “Maybe you could,” he said, and then instantly wanted to hit himself for promising something so impossible. But Gyrus was looking at him with wide, watery eyes like Kodya just promised him the moon, and Kodya couldn’t bring himself to deny him anything.

----------------

The old shed opened with the loud grating noise of rusted hinges. Kodya winced slightly at the sound, before pushing forward into the crowded space before him. Nephthys had said the inflatable kiddie pool was just in here the last time she’d seen it. But that had been nearly seven years ago, back when she’d tried to teach him how to swim in exchange for teaching her written English. Those lessons had not lasted very long, in part because Kodya was much less gracious as a student than as a teacher, and in part because the drowning incident had still been fresh in his mind.

He shoved aside The fishing rod he’d gotten for his Mom at fifteen, still as clean and unused as the day he’d bought it, and some of her old Navy Seal camping gear. Where was it? It should be with the practical stuff…

Something bright and pink caught his eye, the faded plastic tucked quietly in a corner behind some old storage bins. Kodya waded over towards it and gave it a gentle tug, pulling out of another box labeled POOL in his mother’s loopy handwriting. He pulled the cumbersome plastic out, and stopped.

There was something else in the bin, soft against his hands. Weird. He couldn’t think of anything pool related that was soft, and his mother was usually so organized. He looked down to see a strange fur wrap below. It was plain brown, with faded spots making a star pattern along it. One edge was jagged and sharp, with bits of leather skin poking out below it. Kodya ran a finger down the edge, and wondered if someone had taken a blunt knife to it.

The plastic of the pool rustled against the boxes as Kodya shifted, drawing his attention back towards it. He shut the pool box with a snap. Whatever it was, it didn’t concern him. His mother could sort it out on her own time. He had a mermaid’s day to make.

---------

“I’m back!” Kodya called as two brightly colored heads appeared in the water. “And you’ll never believe what I brought for you today!”

Gyrus beamed at him, and Kodya took a minute to examine that lovely smile and enjoy how it was all for him. “We’ve got something to show you too!” the Kid exclaimed, “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure Kid,” Kodya allowed himself a slight twitch of his lips, wondering what seaglass or shells Gyrus had brought for him today. “But I’ll bet mine’s better.”

Red and the Kid exchanged glances, before Red sighed. “Just so we are clear,” she said, “I do not fully approve of this idea.” So saying, she dove into the water, and in her place rose a single white corner, then another and another, until there was a great white box with a handle sticking out the side.

Kodya blinked. “What is that supposed to be?” He asked, squinting at the sides. Something about the faded pink stickers looked familiar. Was that ice cream?

“It’s a box with wheels!” Gyrus proclaimed, gesturing to the suspiciously familiar object. Kodya raised an eyebrow, and the Kid blushed. “Lift it higher!” Gyrus hissed, and the white box raised above the water, allowing for both the wheels and Fluffy’s head to come into view.

“See?” Gyrus’ purple orbs practically glowed. Beside him Fluffy beamed and even Red looked a bit smug.

“I see,” said Kodya, feeling somewhat baffled. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s the best part!” the Kid’s green tail surfaced to slash the top of the water excitedly. It went straight into Tori’s face and she sputtered, causing one end to dip back into the water. “This box holds water! Without it coming out! If you put me in this I could come with you to shore!”

Well that diminished Kodya’s surprise a bit. He felt a bit hurt. He’d put a lot of thought into his kiddie pool. But he shook it off in favor of squinting at the white cart. It was looking more and more familiar the more he stared.

“Is that,-” he frowned, “- Oli’s ice cream cart?!” Oli’s ice cream was a staple on the beach in the summer months, and he’d recently upgraded to owning a portable cart that he employed Anan to push around and increase business. But Anan had lost it under what he claimed was a sudden storm. Kodya narrowed his eyes. “Did you hypnotize Anan into giving that up?”

“We didn’t hypnotize anyone,” Red sniffed. “This was a gift.”

“We just asked, and he handed it right over!” Gyrus added. “He didn’t even stop to question why we were all in the water!”

Fluffy batted her eyelashes and then threw Kodya a wink, and Kodya had the sneaking suspicion that they had used a different method of coercion instead. But hey, he shrugged. Oli hadn’t held that much of a grudge, and it was high time Anan learned a lesson about not giving in to the whims of every pretty girl that smiled at him.

“So what was it you brought for us?” Gyrus asked innocently, and all three mermaids' attention snapped to him.

“Oh,” Kodya rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I kinda brought something similar, only bigger, and with no wheels.”

“Really?” Gyrus beamed. “That’s great! Now we can all go on land!” All? Kodya opened his mouth to protest. He could hide maybe one mermaid, but three?

“That would set some of my fears to rest,” Red said, sounding appeased. “I did not want to leave Gyrus to wander this strange world without protection.”

Fluffy began bobbing up and down in the water, splashing wildly with the ice cream cart to show her enthusiasm.

I’m not getting out of this, Kodya realized with a sinking dread as all three mermaids celebrated around him. I need a plan.

--------------

The plan was simple. Really. Early in the morning, Kodya would meet the three mermaids at the docks. There was a rainstorm scheduled for Thursday, perfect for both providing cover and keeping the mermaids wet. Kodya would load the three of them into the back of his truck, where they would climb into the kiddy pool. Then Kodya would drive really slowly into town, pull out the white cart, now covered in a blanket to pass as a wheelchair, and wheel each mermaid through the store. Simple.

The first part went off without a hitch. It was indeed raining on Thursday morning, the icky, thick, constant rain that made it very uncomfortable to be outside for long periods of time. When Kodya arrived on the dock, he found it deserted. Perfect.

“Guys?” he hissed as he scanned the dark waves. “It’s time.” Three multicolored heads rose from below the dock to greet him.

“That took too long,” Red grumbled. “I had half thought ye’d grown cold feet.”

“It took longer to fill the pool than I expected,” Kodya sighed. “Now come on.” He extended his arms towards Fluffy, who was closest.

Red batted his hand away. “I’ll go first,” she snapped. “It is my duty as champion of the queen to ensure the safety of the rest of the pod.” Kodya rolled his eyes, but complied, hauling her surprisingly light body up into the air. Sylvia went next, eagerly wrapping strong arms around his neck as he lifted her up into the truck too.

And then at last, it was Gyrus’ turn. Kodya reached down for him, determined not to react. It was just a simple assist after all. Kodya could feel both warm skin and slick scales as he carefully lifted him into the air. Gyrus’ arms wrapped around Kodya’s neck, pulling close to Kodya’s chest and soaking his already wet shirt further.

Gyrus ran a curious hand through his hair, playing with the hair tie in the back. “You’re hair feels so strange dry,” He murmured, lavender orbs hypnotic. Their faces were inches apart, and Kodya froze. They hadn’t been this close since the day they met, when Gyrus had called him perfect, and the mere memory sent Kodya’s whole face alight. Gyrus gave the slightest of frowns as he ran gentle fingers through Kodya’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

“If ye are quite finished,” Tori’s loud voice broke through Kodya’s haze, “the sooner we start this, the sooner we can get back to the sea.”

Kodya yelped, placing Gyrus hastily in the back of the truck and ducking his head as he hurried to the front. Still bright red, he gripped the back of the wheel and took several deep breaths. He needed to focus damn it. Or this whole trip would end in disaster.

Disaster…the various, horrible ends of this hair brained scheme were enough to bring him back to reality. If he messed up here, the mermaids could end up in an aquarium, or worse, dissected. He took a deep breath and put the truck in drive. By the time he’d reached the store, the image of Gyrus’ face so close to his own was properly suppressed in the back of his mind.

---------

Step two turned out to have its own set of problems. Namely that as soon as he put the truck in park, he found the mermaids arguing in the back about who would go in first.

“It will be I,” Red’s arms were crossed. “It’s my job to keep you safe, there’s no point in arguing.”

“You don’t even want to see the store!” Gyrus scowled. “Nor do you know as much about humans as I do! And besides,” he crossed his arms, “I’ll be with Kodya so there’s no need to protect me!” He glanced to the side. “Right Sylvia?”

Fluffy threw up her hands in a clear signal of, keep me out of this!

“What’s the problem now?” Kodya massaged the space between his brow. Both Red and the Kid turned on him.

“I am going first, and that is final,” Red snapped at the same time Gyrus said,

“It isn’t fair!”

Kodya sighed, considering. On the one hand, letting Red go first would strengthen the fragile trust they had formed. On the other hand, the Kid was far, far too old to be babied like Red wanted, and going first with Red meant introducing her to Alistair. Kodya squared his shoulders. He’d rather avoid whatever fight she’d pick for as long as possible.

“It’s the Kid’s trip, he gets to go first,” he said, and Red scowled while Gyrus lit up.

“Alright!” Gyrus pulled himself to the edge of the truck to avoid the angry Red. “Help me down and let’s get going!”

“Not so fast kid!” Kodya scolded. “I’ve got to get the wheelchair ready first.” He pulled out the ice cream cart and opened the lid, revealing the cold water he’d taken from his hose the night before.

Carefully, he picked Gyrus up again, this time avoiding eye contact, and plopped him inside. Access water flooded over the edge and distracted the Kid while Kodya tried to hide his blush. To distract himself, he fiddled with the lid, wondering how it would close without bothering the top sticking out.

“This is so exciting!” Gyrus turned to Kodya, eyes shining. Kodya’s hands tightened on the lid at the sight, and a crack came from underneath them. Both Gyrus and Kodya looked down at the now unattached lid. Well, Kodya thought. There goes that problem.

The blanket was thrown over the top to hide the water and the faded ice cream stickers, and the makeshift wheelchair was ready to go. There was just one thing missing. “Here.” Kodya pulled out an old shirt and handed it to Gyrus. “Humans can’t go in stores without full clothing,” he explained, trying to make it seem normal and not like he’d spent hours agonizing over which one of his old shirts to give to Gyrus.

“Thank you,” Gyrus murmured, pulling the bright yellow shirt, specifically chosen to match the yellow tips of his tail, over his head. “Yellow is my favorite color.” Kodya shrugged as casually as he could, but tucked that little piece of information away in his brain.

“Time to go,” he said, stepping behind the cart pushing it towards the door.

---------

As Kodya predicted, Gyrus loved the store. He found everything about it fascinating. From the food to the overpriced towels and swimwear for tourists. Kodya thought he would explode when he found the nets Kodya usually bought and recognized them. He wanted to know how everything worked, what it all did, and why Kodya would or wouldn’t buy it. The towels in particular fascinated him, as he had known humans hated to be too wet, but he’d never realized what a big deal it was until he saw all the different patterns and colors. He was quite disappointed when Kodya broke it to him that the colors and patterns were purely decorative, and didn’t hold any significance at all.

Eventually they got down to business. Kodya walked Gyrus through his grocery list, explaining what each item looked like and what it did. Gyrus seemed to have memorized the prices, and was more than eager to read off the numbers and comment on cheaper options available. Kodya would then have to justify his choice, usually because of quality, and explain it to an attentive Gyrus. It was a long process, but Kodya didn’t think he’d ever had this much fun shopping for groceries before.

But as Kodya finished explaining about bananas and how they worked, he noticed Gyrus’ mood had taken a turn for the morose.

“What’s wrong?” Kodya asked, as Gyrus stared glumly down at the bunch of bananas in his hands. “Am I going too fast?”

“No, no,” Gyrus sighed. “It’s stupid.” Kodya crossed his arms, waiting, and Gyrus shifted the bananas into one hand to run the free one through his hair. “It’s not that I’m not grateful you brought me here so I could see everything, it’s just,” he peaked up at Kodya through his starshaped bangs, “there’s so much of it. I’ll never learn it all today, even if we didn’t have to hurry up and give Tori and Sylvia their turn.”

“Who said you had to learn it all today?” Kodya pointed out. “We’ve got the pool and the wheelchair now. We can definitely come back here again.”

“But it won’t always be raining,” Gyrus pointed out. “You might get seen helping us out of the water.”

Kodya waved a hand as he began to push Gyrus forward. “We’ll just have to figure out another way then. You’re smart. You know what the hurdles are, you come up with something.”

Gyrus shot Kodya a small smile. “Thank you Kodya,” he said. “You really are the best person to teach me.” Kodya ducked his head and pushed harder, trying to hide his blush.

“Kodya? Is that you? I thought I recognized you wandering about my store!” Kodya’s head snapped up to see Alistair waving from the counter. Oh no. “But who is this handsome stranger you’ve brought with you?” Alistair practically jumped over the counter to see better. It took all of Kodya’s strength not to grab the cart's controls and wheel them both out the door.

“Careful Alistair!” Kodya shouted as the man stepped closer and began shamelessly feeling up Gyrus’ muscles. “He’s in a wheelchair!” He pushed Alistair away as Gyrus starred with a look of absolute puzzlement on his face.

“Of course, of course!” Alistair said as he stepped back to lean on his counter. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“I’m Gyrus,” Gyrus said, sounding faintly amused. “Nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure! An absolute pleasure! I am Alistair, and this is my humble store!” Alistair gave a sweeping gesture to encompass the whole building. Kodya rolled his eyes at his theatrics.

“Are you really?” Gyrus asked, sounding intrigued. “Where do you get all the items for sale?”

“Trying to find my sources? How shameless,” Alistair raised an eyebrow and Gyrus blushed, sensing he’d done something wrong. Kodya scowled. “But don’t worry!” Alistair laughed. “My sources are all local, like our charming mutual friend, Kodya here!” He pointed to Kodya who crossed his arms.

“I don’t supply you that often,” Kodya grumbled.

“Oh come now Kodya, don’t be modest.” Alistair winked, he leaned over to Gyrus and whispered, “He caught me a great white shark, I still have the teeth if you want to buy them!”

“I know,” Gyrus smiled. “But I don’t need another shark’s tooth.”

“Another?” Alistair drew back in shock, mouth hanging open. He glanced wildly between Gyrus and Kodya. “You don’t mean to tell me our grumpy Kodya snagged a stud like you?”

“We aren’t dating Alistair,” Kodya stepped in before Gyrus had a chance to misunderstand. “I’m just showing him around while he’s in the states.”

“So he’s single?” Alistair said, and Kodya felt his heart stop.

“Kodya’s been really kind to me!” Gyrus piped up, clearly hoping to back up the illusion of being new to the area. “He’s taught me so much about these states!”

“Oh really? And what has he taught you?” Alistair leaned forward into Gyrus’ personal space.

“Lots! I’ve learned about money, and the presidents on the bills, and dinosaurs…” Gyrus began to rattle off all the things he’d recently learned while Alistair took the opportunity to stare shamelessly at his lips.

Kodya rolled his eyes, disgusted, then froze. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he’d seen a blue tail.

-----------

Kodya stalked through the store, following the telltale trail of water down the aisles. He hated to leave the Kid alone with Alistair, but he trusted him to be able to handle himself and keep Alistair distracted while Kodya hunted down their real problem.

Speaking of which, he turned a corner to find one half of the dynamic duo munching happily away on the fish in the deli. “Fluffy!” Kodya hissed, as the pink-haired mermaid turned her wide eyes on him. “What are you doing here? And where’s Red?” He’d seen a blue tail, and unless Fluffy had changed her forest green scales blue and back in the last minute, there was no way she was alone.

Fluffy shrugged, gesturing to the fish in front of her to say, I don’t know, I got distracted by the food.

Kodya cursed, striding forward to grab Fluffy bodily and drag her away with a cry of, “you aren’t supposed to be here!” His motion startled Fluffy, whose tail whipped around and knocked the whole deli over, sending the whole display of fish directly on top of her.

Kodya and Fluffy froze. Panicked blue meeting panicked brown. For a second all was still, until in the silence the clunking sound of heavy boots began to fill the air. Fluffy sprang into action, covering herself with the fish in an attempt to blend in. Kodya helped, figuring that if whoever was coming mistook her tail for another fish they might just by themselves some time.

They had just finished when Knox, an employee of Alistair’s store, rounded the corner. “I heard a loud noise, and have been instructed to look for damages,” he said in that monotone voice of his.

Kodya could have cried with relief. If there was one word that summed Knox up, it was gullible. “Don’t just stand there!” He snapped, putting on his most thunderous expression. “Get the first aid kit!” Knox paused, eyes traveling from Kodya’s face to Sylvia’s fish covered tail, to her big puppy dog eyes about to overflow with tears.

“I will retrieve it,” he said, voice still montone, but there was a quickness in his step that betrayed his concern. As soon he turned the corner Kodya let out a relieved sigh.

Fluffy beamed up at Kodya, clearly ecstatic that it had worked. Kodya frowned back at her. “We still need to get out of here before he gets back,” he pointed out.

Fluffy rolled her eyes with the clear message of, you worry too much. And no Kodya wasn’t having that. He grabbed her arm and tugged it upwards.

“Come on,” he said as Fluffy obligingly circled her arms around his neck so he could lift her up. “We’ve got to find Red and get out of here before he comes back.”

“Before who comes back?” Kodya and Fluffy’s heads snapped to the right to see Tori emerging from the towel section. “And what was that noise?”

“What were you thinking!” Kodya felt his fury return in full force. “You knew you had to wait in the truck!” Fluffy looked down guiltily, but Red crossed her arms.

“I am the Champion of the Queen.” She scowled. “It is my duty to keep Gyrus safe. You were taking too long.”

“Gyrus is perfectly fine!” Kodya hissed, taking a step forward. “But now thanks to you two, I had to leave him alone, and now I have to get you out of here before anyone sees your tails and calls the press!”

Red drew herself up to her full height, which given half of her was a floppy fishtail, wasn’t that impressive. “I am perfectly capable of…” But Fluffy held up a hand to stop her, cocking her ear as if listening. Kodya and Tori followed her example, and Kodya’s heart stopped once again.

Footsteps.

Red dove towards the racks of towels as Kodya looked around wildly for a place to stash Fluffy. Could he throw her back into the fish?

Too soon the footsteps came to a halt. Kodya froze as a very familiar voice said, “Kody?”

Slowly Kodya turned around to see Nephthys standing in the aisle, eyes wide as she took in Red half hidden behind the towels and Fluffy still in Kodya’s arms. “Neph, I can explain,” he started, but she shook her head.

“Alistair is coming!” She said as she pulled out her purse. “Distract him while I fix this!” Kodya wanted to argue he’d be better able to carry both mermaids, wanted to ask why she wasn’t reacting, but the look in her eyes told him not to argue. He wordlessly handed off Fluffy and hurried back to where Alistair and Gyrus were waiting.

“Kodya!” Alistair called out. “What was that all about?”

“You just left,” Gyrus added, a bit reproachfully. “Then we heard a huge crash.”

Kodya waved a hand. “An accident. But don’t worry, Nephthys is taking care of it.” He shot Gyrus a look that he hoped communicated, help me distract him.

Alistair was still frowning, concern clear on his face. “I should still check it out, someone could have been hurt.”

“You really don’t have to,” Kodya said, and Gyrus added,

“Didn’t you say you can’t leave the counter to avoid losing a sale?”

Alistair stroked his beard, looking torn. “This is true, but I really can’t ignore people hurt in my store…” his face split into a sly grin that made Kodya’s stomach drop. “So Gyrus, you’re hired!”

“I’m what?” Gyrus stared in confusion.

“Wait a minute!” Kodya protested. “You can’t just hire Gyrus!” He was a mermaid for one, with a tail and no social security!

“Why not?” Alistair beamed. “He’s got all the qualifications: He has an understanding of basic math, thinks Andrew Jackson isn’t worthy of his position on the twenty dollar bill, and best of all, he’s really cute!” Alistair winked at Kodya and turned to Gyrus, “So what do you say? I’ll pay you an entry level salary, but with your brain and looks you’re likely to get promoted no problem!”

“You’ll pay me?” Gyrus blinked. “In money?”

Alistair opened his mouth to reply, an amused smile on his lips, just as Nephthys rounded the corner with Fluffy on her shoulder and another woman with red hair helping Nephthys support her. “Time to go Kody!”

Kodya wasted no time, grabbing Gyrus’s wheelchair’s handles as Gyrus scrambled for the grocery bags and began wheeling him out after the three women.

“Wait a minute,” Alistair started, “What happened?” But Nephthys waved her free hand behind her.

“Got it handled, take care of the mess and bill me!” She cried as she pushed through the door, a towel wrapped over Fluffy’s tail as she and the familiar looking stranger carried her out. Kodya and Gyrus followed, leaving a confused Alistair behind as they stepped into the open air.

“Where’s Red?” Kodya asked as soon as they got to the safety of the truck. He and the blue-tailed mermaid never saw eye to eye, but he didn’t want to leave her stuck in there.

“I’m right here,” snapped the woman with the red hair, “or have you gone blind?” Kodya blinked, and blinked again, his brain not catching up with his eyes. His gaze traveled down, from her distinctive red hair, to her odd plated shirt, to the towel tied around her waist, and her….

“You have legs!” Gyrus screamed, finger pointing in shock. Kodya blinked again, and yes. That was what his brain was struggling to comprehend. Before them both stood Red, on two legs and looking utterly human.

Tori placed a hand on her hip. “Yes, thanks to the potion the witch gave me.” She gestured to Nephthys with her other hand.

Kodya’s eyes flicked to Nephthys, and she gave him jazz hands with an awkward smile. “Surprise?”

#room of swords #room of swords fanfic #kodya #gyrus #sylvia #tori #strawbarrow #mermaid au #menfolk are overrated

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Note

Emma sends her friend Killian a text, not noticing the horrible autocorrect mistake and Killian gets the wrong idea.

All she needs is for finals to be over in two weeks. She needs them to be over, and then she’ll be free to do whatever the hell she wants for three months. Yeah, she’ll probably end up getting a job down at the Sheriff’s station, something she does with her dad every year since she’s been old enough to legally work there as an intern…which is definitely a bit of a stretch. She’s not exactly sure how her dad gets the approval from town council to pay her for answering phones and fiddling around on her computer for three months out of the year, but he somehow does. Whatever. It works for her. She gets to help out on the occasional interesting case that happens in Storybrooke and spend time with her dad.

It’s kind of like the dream for a twenty-two year old who’s a semester behind in college but can’t finish over the summer because her classes aren’t offered then. That sucks, a lot, but she’s a bit thankful for the extra six months to figure out what the hell it is she’s going to be doing for the rest of her life, which is terrifying in and of itself.

The fifty minutes of her advanced corporate finance class (she’d like to have words with whoever the hell decided this was necessary for a criminal justice major) tick by at a snail’s pace, Dr. Jitka’s monotone voice nearly lulling her into sleep until there’s an elbow hitting into her ribs at such a force that she almost falls back in her chair, having to grab onto the table in front of her to keep her from falling backward.

She knows exactly who just elbowed her, her eyes quickly glancing to her right where Killian is diligently taking down notes in his neat handwriting looking as if he didn’t just knock the breath out of her and nearly knock her over.

Asshole.

But then she sees the smallest of smiles on his face, his pink lips stretching out under the black of his scruff and the shade of his baseball cap. Yeah, that’s what she thought. It’s not like there’s anyone else who could have possibly elbowed her in the ribs.

Dr. Jitka finally finishes talking, their allotted time ending, and she scurries to pack up all of her stuff and make it to the Starbucks in the building, caffeine calling her name. Killian follows behind her, his longer strides allowing him to keep up with her hurried pace, even managing to pass her and sneak in front of her in line, the asshole.

“I need my coffee, Jones.”

“You are not the only person who’s tired, love. Do you even have any money left on your card?”“Ahh,” she groans, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, “no, no I don’t. I was just going to pay with cash.”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, something she’s noticed him do a lot in their four months of knowing each other. She thinks it’s a nervous tick. He does it before he asks a question in class, which she’s decided is his weakness. He’s this really confident guy, seemingly never lacking in it, except when he doesn’t know what’s going on, which isn’t often. He’s freakishly smart, is only in this class as his minor since his major is in mechanical engineering, and she kind of thinks he gets down on himself when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

But who is she to know the inner workings of Killian Jones? They’re friends, they talk, they study together a lot, but he’s still teetering on one of those people where she’s got a fifty-fifty shot of talking to him after graduation. Because, really, what do they have in common besides being in a torturous advanced corporate finance class?

(The same taste in movies, television shows, books, a liking for black coffee, the ability to stay up past four in the morning with no issue, the same biting sarcasm, a penchant for innuendos…maybe a few other things.)

But who knows? She, who doesn’t like making new friends, likes being his friend, even if she does call him an asshole more than she calls him by his actual name. So maybe she’ll put in the effort so that they can be friends outside of this class. He’s got an entire year left compared to her one semester, so it’s not like he’s going anywhere.

“I’ve got money I’m not going to use. I can pay.”

Her lips gape open, the act of kindness shocking her considering he never pays for her stuff when she forgets her food card. “Really?”

“Aye, it’s not like it transfers over to next semester anyway. You want something to eat?”

“A cake pop.”

“Love, it’s not even noon.”

“You offered. Don’t knock on what I’m getting. And I want my coffee – ”

“ – black but you’ll add two sugars to it, I know.”

“Good man,” she sighs, patting him on the back. “I’m going to go get that table in the corner before someone else does.

She walks out of line, dodging people and hoping and praying that no one takes the spot. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but an open table is pretty much buried treasure, so when you see one, you have to take it and claim it as your own. It’s a tough competition to not be sitting outside in the rain, which has been a constant for the past few days. She manages to snag the table, plopping her backpack down in Killian’s chair so that no one takes it before pulling out her laptop and opening up her notes, trying to understand what the hell Dr. Jitka was even talking about.

Killian joins her ten minutes later, placing her coffee and cake pop down on the table while he settles across from her, his legs kicking hers and shaking the table when he crosses them underneath the wood. When she goes to grab her cup, she sees a number written in sharpie right under Killian’s name. She rolls her eyes. Of course the barista gave Killian her number. She didn’t even know people did that, but apparently they do.

“So how did you charm the barista for her to give you her number on my cup?”

“Oh I didn’t.”“Then why is this number on my cup?”

“Amy, up there, is my ex. I have her number blocked, and every time I’m in here she writes her number on my cup. I hate to say an ex is crazy because, well, that’s kind of a sucky thing to do, but Amy is crazy.”

“You’re telling me that your ex-girlfriend works in here, and not only do you still come in here but you also trust that she’s not going to spit into your food?”

He puts his cup down on the table, his lips twisting up and his forehead wrinkling. “Never thought about that second thing. Bloody hell.” She laughs, reaching over and taking a sip of her drink. “Ah, ah, ah, love, if she’s spitting in my drink, what’s she going to do to yours?”

“Nothing? I’m your friend.”

“Amy doesn’t know that.”

“Oh gross,” she groans, putting her coffee down on the table and looking over at the counter, where, sure enough, Amy is staring them down. “Why’d you guys break up?”

“She thought I was cheating on her so she cheated on me.”

“Were you?”

“Nope. I like to consider myself a one woman type of guy. I’m not quite sure how she got the idea that I was cheating.”

“Well, Amy seems like a gem.”

“You want to know the kicker of it all?”

“Sure, Jones.” She leans forward, closing her laptop so she can prop her elbows up on the table. “Tell me all of your dirty little secrets.”

“She cheated on me with my best friend.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Aye. Obviously he’s no longer my best mate, but that was a fun time.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but at least you’re not with someone who’d cheat on you. No one deserves that.”

“So,” Killian whistles, picking up his cup again and eyeing it for a few seconds before seemingly deciding to screw it and drink his coffee, “you going home to your weird little town of Storybrooke for the summer?”

Changing the subject. Got it.

“It’s not weird. It’s just got an interesting name.”

“You guys have, like, one market, a diner, and a library. It’s like every small town you’d see in a movie.”

“Well, not all of us live full time in Portland, but yeah, I think I’ll go home and work for my dad. It’s easy cash, I get to spend time with him, watch all of the tourists roll in, and buy a ridiculous amount of ice cream.”

“Sounds like a dream. I’ve got to do my last semester of co-op.”“That sucks.”

“Eh, since it’s my last semester I get a pay raise, and I get paid double overtime. So obviously I’m going to be chomping at the bit for that so I can graduate with some actual money in my bank account.”

Her phone buzzes then, a text from Ruby, and that’s when she sees that she’s ten minutes late for her next class which is in another building. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t forget about the assignment.”

“I won’t,” she promises, picking up her backpack and running out of the door, leaving her possibly poisoned coffee sitting on the table, her entire purpose for coming into Starbucks pointless now.

-/-

Emma: Joooooooonesssss.

Killian: Swan.

Emma: Oh come on, you’re supposed to be just as dramatic as me.

Killian: Oh my Swan, my Swan, whatever is wrong with the fair maiden that she calls out my name like that, since I do assume that it’s not in pleasure.

Emma: Okay, well I didn’t mean to be that dramatic.

Emma: I don’t understand our last homework assignment.

Emma: I need a B on it.

Emma: Can you help?

Killian: Of course. My place or the library?

Emma: Your place. I’m so frustrated.

Killian: What time?

Ruby calls out her name then, something about the two of them forgetting to pay a bill, and she groans as she gets up from the comfort of her bed (which is likely another reason she wasn’t getting anything done) to go see what’s happening. Ruby is scrolling through their apartment’s portal, showing her their last statement, so she doesn’t really look when she replies to Killian’s text.

Emma: How about sex tonight?

Emma: I don’t think I can finish without you.

Killian: Yeah, okay, that’s perfect ;)

She puts away her phone in her back pocket, forgetting about it and not seeing Killian’s next text as she deals with them not paying the electrical bill, which was definitely Ruby’s fault because she was in charge of paying their bills due on the first this month.

Killian: But what time are you coming over?

-/-

She pulls up to Killian’s apartment around five forty-five, but it takes a solid ten minutes to find parking. He lives close to campus, which blows her mind that he can simply walk to class, but those are the kinds of perks that she guesses you get when you’re on scholarship and literally only have to pay for somewhere to live. Seriously, even his textbooks are paid for.

It pays to be smart, apparently.

But once she finds parking a good half a mile away, she grabs her backpack and starts walking toward his place. She’s a little sweaty by the time she gets there, the rain stopping and humidity starting, but that’s fine. She’s just in her gym clothes anyways. When she knocks on his door, it takes no more than ten seconds for it to swing open.

Was he waiting for her?

Weird, but he is a stickler for time.

She doesn’t think anything of it until she gets a good look at Killian…and of the apartment. He’s wearing jeans and a light blue button down, the elbows rolled up to show his forearms. It’s a normal outfit, sure, but Killian rolls into class in sweatpants and a Henley or t-shirt, his hair usually tucked under a baseball cap. But right now it’s artfully tossed, the kind where you know the guy spent time on it but won’t admit to it. And is he…he’s wearing cologne. It smells damn good, but she’s confused.

Really confused.

Because he’s got soft music playing in the background, and she swears that she sees candles flickering in his kitchen.

“Hello, love,” he greets, bending down and kissing her cheek. When he pulls back, she can still feel where his lips touched her skin, the bristle of his scruff…she doesn’t hate it. She just doesn’t know what’s going on. “Why don’t you come in? Make yourself at home.”

“Was planning on it.” She makes her way into his apartment, passing his living area and heading toward the kitchen table only for him to grab her wrist, lightly tugging until she turns around.

“I feel like the living room would be better, or even the bedroom.”

“Weird but okay.” She’s definitely not going into his bedroom to do homework. That would be a disaster and uncomfortable on so many levels, so she settles down onto his couch, immediately pulling out her stuff while Killian sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch.

Her skin sparks the slightest bit, gooseflesh rising on her arms, but she ignores it, pulling open her notebook to where she’d been working out some of the more complex questions so she can get him to figure out where the hell she went wrong. But when she turns to ask him how to do the weighted average cost of capital, his face is freakishly close to hers the heat of his breath ghosting over her lips. And then before she knows it, his lips are on hers.

It’s nice, and she leans into it, returning the kiss and sliding her lips over his while his scruff brushes into her skin and his hands lightly thread into her hair. She gets lost in it, forgetting about who she’s kissing or why she’s here until he groans and his fingers grasp into her hair. That’s when it all comes back to her and she yanks back, separating the two of them and falling back on the couch, her notebook crashing to the ground while Killian blinks down at her.

“What the…” she stutters, hear heart beating quickly within her chest, “…what the hell was that?”

“What the hell was that?”

“I asked you first.”

“Are you five?”

“No, but I’m confused.”

“So am I.”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Well, I don’t despise you, and you’re a good kisser surprisingly enough. But I don’t…I don’t know where that came from.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where that came from?”

“Because I don’t? We’re supposed to be doing the damn assignment.”

“You literally sent me a text asking to sleep with me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” she cries, backing up further on the couch until she’s sitting on the arm and curling into herself while her face heats. She’s probably red enough to pass as a tomato. “I did what now? Because I would literally never ask anyone to sleep with me through text.”

If she’s red, Killian is worse. He keeps running his hands through his hair, making it stand up in a million different ways, while his lips open and close over and over again. What the hell is going on?

This is WACK and it has nothing to do with the Weighted Average Cost of Capital.

Oh wow, she just made a finance joke in her head. Maybe she really is losing it.

“But you did,” Killian says, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “Here, you sent one text that says ‘how about sex tonight?’ And then right after you said ‘I can’t finish without you.’ I thought it was strange and pretty unconventional, but I don’t know. We get along. I think you’re gorgeous, but there’s obviously been some kind of misunderstanding, and I’m just going to never show my face in our class again.”

“You’d miss the final.”

“Thanks for the obvious, Swan.”

She waves her hand toward him, scooting down on the couch and sitting cross legged so that she’s closer to him. “Let me see the messages.” He hands the phone over, the messages still open, and she reads through them right up until…”How about sex tonight? I can’t finish without you. And oh my God, I said I was frustrated earlier.”

Her laugh begins low in her belly, making her entire body shake until she’s dry heaving, basically hiccupping into the laugh, and she can’t breathe. She’s laughing so hard that she can’t breathe. Killian’s phone falls to the couch, landing in between her legs while she covers her mouth with her hands to try to stop the appalling sound that’s coming out of her mouth. This is hysterical, and she has never been so glad to misspell a text.

“I’m glad you find this so funny, Swan.”

“Oh c-come on,” she gasps, wiping the tears that are falling from her eyes, “this is fantastic. I meant six, you know? I did not mean sex.”

“Aye,” Killian gruffs, rubbing his hands up and down his face until he’s practically pulling his hair out, “I realize that now. I’m sorry that I…I’m sorry that I misunderstood, that I pushed myself on you. I’m also sorry that I’m a bloody idiot.”

She shakes her head back in forth, disbelief over this whole thing settling in while she tries to stifle her laughter. She leans over and pats Killian’s knee, which only makes him groan more. “I’ve always heard the jokes about engineers not having social skills, but I really didn’t expect you to fall into that category.”

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“Absolutely not. I still need your help with my homework, and you can’t do that if you’re both emotionally and sexually frustrated.”

“Oi,” he protests, his lips finally ticking up into the smallest of smiles, atta boy, “I am not sexually frustrated.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you’re not. Also,” she begins, getting up from the couch and wandering around the room, turning the music up on his Bluetooth stereo and blowing out the candles, “now I know what Killian Jones does when seducing a woman, and this is something I’m going to remember forever.”

“Can you knock me out so I forget?”

“No. Then I’d mess up your perfectly styled hair that I know you spent a lot of time on, not that you haven’t already done a number on it with all of that tugging.”

“I hate you.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie.” She walks back over to him, settling down on the couch next to him and propping her head up on her palm before she sing-songs, “You think I’m gorgeous. You want to kiss me. You want to hug me. You want to love me.”

Killian rolls his eyes, a more genuine smile on his face now. “Okay, Sandra Bullock.”

“I like that you get the reference.”

“I’ve seen the movie.”

She laughs again, bending down to pick up her stuff, flipping back to her notebook page with her homework. “Killian, I promise you don’t have anything to worry about or be embarrassed with. I will never bring it up again if you want. We’ll just finish this homework and study, okay?”

“Aye, that sounds like a plan, though I don’t think I can truly forget.”

So they eventually get around to her homework. She’s still confused, doesn’t think she’ll ever understand it, but Killian talks her through it enough that she might get partial credit on the final. Possibly. She’s not really sure. But she does know she’ll at least get an A on the homework. It helps to have a genius friend who may or may not want to have sex with you but who can definitely help you with your assignments when you feel like pulling your hair out.

After they’re finished with their assignment, everything submitted through the online portal, Killian orders a pizza, grabbing two beers out of his fridge and handing one to her while a baseball game plays on the television. She doesn’t mean to, but she watches him as he takes a sip, his jaw ticking while he tilts the bottle against his lips.

It’s…attractive.

And it’s not exactly news to her. She’s always known Killian was attractive. It’d be hard to miss. His eyes…well, damn, he’s got some of the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen, and his smile is just a bright. The fact that she knows he works out regularly helps. A little. Or a lot.

His personality helps more than a lot.

Does she…like him? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

Oh God, feelings are the worst, and she’s not sure that she wants them.

Okay, she kind of wants them.

She kind of wants him.

“Killian?”

“Yeah, love?” he asks, not looking away from the game on the TV.

“Did you really want to sleep with me?”

He groans, falling back into the couch so that his head falls against the cushion and his hair flops in his face. “I thought you said we could forget about it.”

“I did…I just – I’m curious.”

He points over at her, seemingly circling her entire being. “Of course I wanted to sleep with you. I mean, I’d prefer that we were both on the same page and that maybe, you know, you’d let me take you out on a date first.”

“Killian Jones,” she gasps, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“That is not what I said.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to send you a sext, but here we are.” She laughs as he groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. “My answer would be yes, by the way.”

He lifts his arm, peeking over at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, let’s go with the Friday after finals are over.”

“Why, Swan, are you asking me out on a date?”

She leans over and quickly slides her lips over his. Killian’s the one who takes a moment to react this time, his lips soft when they finally move over hers and his hand gentle as it threads into his hair. She meant for it to be short and sweet, but as she readjusts herself to straddle his lap, her knees on either of his thighs, it intensifies, Killian groaning into her mouth as his tongue traces at the seam of her lips. That’s when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his and loosening her grip in his hair.

“So it’s a date then, Swan?”

“Yeah, you can pick me up at sex.”

#cs prompt #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic

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lifeofbouyd · 5 years

Text

Mr. Davis

Dear Bouyd,

I wasn’t always a sex addict; after all, I started out curious and innocent just like any other girl. Church on Sundays, school till Friday and homework and house chores on Saturdays. For years that was the only life I knew and I never felt like I was missing out on a thing. I was considered a nerd for most my school years and due to that I never had a boyfriend. There were many I’d let fuck me but I guess they saw right through me. My tenth-grade teacher, on the other hand, was the only guy who gave me compliments; made me feel all important and shit. Even on my worst days, he made me feel pretty. He’d say shit like; “you’re glowing today, I like your hair, I wish all my students were like you, I think you’ll be a good wife someday”. Hearing him say that made me feel like nothing was impossible and this helped me to excel in his class. Mr. Davis stood almost seven feet tall with well-built arms and a broad chest. “The mouth dripping man” they called him. You couldn’t help but stare, even if you tried. He received multiple love notes daily from random girls offering heads, pussy and three sums. To be honest I wanted to suck his dick too, but I never had the guts to say so. I guess it’s cause I haven't raised that way; “no dick to yo face” mama would always say. Who was I to go against that? She had already lived her life so I guess she had a valid reason to say that. But still, I wanted to swallow his snake and choke on it like those girls in pornos.

I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity but I couldn’t even ask him for his number. Shit, the task seemed impossible. I noticed he was into the sexier girls in class; he’d watch their ass and bite his lips. His dick was always stretched across his pants like a garden hose which made me imagine how he sprayed most the teachers and the badass bitches in class. His name was written all over the girl's bathroom; the doors, the walls and even the mirror. He was like peas in rice and peas, a key ingredient. I was minding my own business in the bathroom one day when some girls came in. I overheard Rochel yapping about how she went to his house twice and they had great sex. Knowing her I really didn’t doubt it; she was the school’s pussy or the “come to help us” as most the boys called her. She was sexy, pretty and smart but also a badass bitch. I wasn’t the kind to wear makeup or fuss about how my hair looked, but that all changed when Mr. Davis told me I should take pride in my attire as I do in my school work. What a son of a bitch, if I didn’t like him I’d probably slap him across the face. I took it as a compliment though because he said it with a smiling face, and to be honest; I would do anything to make him happy. I went home that weekend and had my mom transform me. New hair do, tighter, shorter clothes and smelling like a Victoria Secret splash mom had bought me months before. Heads turned that Monday morning. For a second they thought it was a new girl. They looked from head to toe then toe to head.

Mr. Davis: Sammy, what happened to you over the weekend?

Me: I put myself together as you asked

Mr. Davis: Wow, I love the look

In an instant, he undressed me with his eyes. I could feel the tension fuming from those bad mind girls, most of these bitches hated me for my brain but now they had my new look to deal with. I got in a fight in the bathroom with an ugly chick over who was prettier 🤦‍♂️. My first fight in years, and I defended myself but still got my ass kicked. If I wasn’t so focused on protecting my face I could have won the fight. I didn’t wanna go home with a swollen face after leaving like a princess. I had aches for day. Mr. Davis and I grew closer over the next few days as I stayed back in extra class each evening. I had no reason to stay back because I was damn good at my work. It was the only way I could get some extra attention; after all, it was free. I was dying to feel his wrath. I thought of all the ways I’d let him fuck me and all the things I’d do to him but I never had the guts to approach. I didn’t even have his number. The only thing I had was his class three times a week, and wild sex thoughts of him in my head. Most the chicks had already got his number and some even got his dick. Given the odds, I realized I was moving too slow. I needed a plan and I needed it quick. He knew I was into him and he knew I loved to read so occasionally he’d suggest a book for me then ask me to summarize for the class.

Mr. Davis: Sammy, I brought one of my personal Favourite’s for you today. Please collect it before you leave.

Now normally, he’d give me the book right there in class but this time was different. He waited until everyone left before digging down his one strapped leather bag 💼.

Mr. Davis: Sammy, you can't afford to get caught reading this book, and if you do get caught you never got the book from me.

He took my bag and slipped it in. You have the next two weeks off for the Easter holiday. Read it and let me know what you think. I didn’t even see the cover when he slipped it in, and I felt way too nervous to take it out and check. Why did he say that, could he be joking or did he want to see if I was a coward? Either way, I had to wait till I got home to find out. Curiosity became my best friend. I guarded my bag as my life depended on it. One sudden movement and I’d pop a cap in a “nigga”. As soon as I got home I opened my bag to view the book. My eyes popped when I saw the image on the cover; a girl in nothing but her bra on. Her womanliness was exposed and the title read, “How to Catch a Man”. I had never been so shocked in my life. No wonder he said what he said. I couldn’t help but laugh as I was so confused by this strange book. I was still a virgin, not even a kiss to my lips. Sigh, it’s not like he’d ever say anything to me like he wanted us to be together or anything, so why this book? I was confused. My body got tingly, butterfly tummy and cold chills. The first story had me hornier than I had ever been in my life. I had to sleep with a pillow between my legs. Jessica’s fantasy was getting fucked in the bathroom of a flying plane. To me, that’s just intense. She explained how she’d suck his dick, then stuff her head in the toilet and have him strike her hard. “I wanna push him off then suck his dick till he cums in my face, droplets down my throat”. That line alone was worth the read. My mind ran wild imagining Mr. Davis driving me and swallowing his babies. I spent my two weeks reading and dreaming. My appetite was supersized with the urge of losing my virginity to Mr. Davis. I had no idea how I’d do it but I sure as hell was not gonna miss the opportunity.

I got myself all dolled up for school the following week. I had planned to blow his mind one way or another if you know what I mean. I stayed back for extra class one evening with intentions of getting his number to pass on my feedback about the book, and probably beg some dick. I waited until I was the last person in the room before I uttered a word to him.

Me: I read the book.

He looked around to see if anyone had heard before answering.

Mr. Davis: What book?

Me: 😳 what is he really asking me, is he senile or something? I didn’t know what to say so I just kept staring at him as if I was lost.

Mr. Davis: 😏 I bet you liked it. If you’re finished I’d like to have it back.

I stood there staring at him wondering if someone had switched the book. He walked over to me slowly and reached for my bag, but I grabbed it.

Mr. Davis: Can I have my book, please?

Me: What book?

Mr. Davis: The book I gave you to read Teo weeks ago, the same book you just said you read. I hope you didn’t misplace it.

Me: What kind of book was it?

Mr. Davis: A sex book.

A smile slid across my as if I was the joker. I handed him the book and he started asking a few questions. Having him that close to me made me drip like a pipe. I kept staring at his lips while he spoke, I wanted to kiss him so badly. I grabbed him by the neck and laid one on him. I had never kissed anyone before, but I had years of practice kissing my hand. I opened my eyes to see him shocked; with a what the fuck just happened kinda face. He was looking at me as if had broken his car windshield or thrown his phone in water.

Mr. Davis: Are you ok, why would you do that?

I felt so ashamed I held my head down and grabbed my bag to walk away. He grabbed me by the shoulder and shouted, “sit down”. My nerves trembled as I’d never heard him with that tone. He closed the door then sat on the desk next to me. I wondered what was about to happen. I felt as if he was gonna give me a good cussing. He stared at me in silence for about a minute. His eyes trembled and he seemed a bit uneasy. To my surprise, he grabbed me by the neck and kissed me. Instantly my body gave in. I was sent afloat to cloud nine and he hadn’t even done anything yet. My eyes remained shut even when he stopped. My legs vibrated and my heart was beating like a drum.

Mr. Davis: I hope I don’t let you do anything you don’t want to do. If you want me to stop just let me know.

What the fuck was he saying? I needed his sick deep inside me, in my mouth and all over my face. I didn’t even answer him I jumped up and rolled his zipper down, trying to take his dick out. He grabbed my ass and ran his tongue in my ears and down my neck. By the time I flipped it out, it was rock hard, pointing up in the air and jumping as if he was cumin. I stroked it slowly with both hands and watched the head flick in and out. I just had to put it in my mouth. I ran my tongue over it like those girls with the banana 🍌 on YouTube before going throat deep. You know that feeling you get when the toothbrush goes too far while brushing your teeth? That’s how I felt as if I was gonna die. He looked at me and smiled; grabbing on my tits. I was wetter than the sea. I kept stroking and sucking till my mouth got tired. He slid my zipper down with his right hand while taking off my clothes with the left. As much as I wanted to fuck him I sure as hell didn’t want to get caught with my clothes off. I laid flat on his table and had him shift my undies instead. He rubbed his dick up and down, passing my tight entrance. “Slippery”, he whispered and smiled. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought I pissed myself. He stuck his tongue in my ears and slapped my pussy with his hard dick. I was dying for him to go balls deep. Kisses on my neck and a wet tongue running all over my cheeks. I exploded from the excitement I was feeling. He slid the head inside my creamy heaven and watched it run to his balls before stroking me sweet and tender. I trembled like a leaf in the wind. Front way, back way, sideway. I was getting dick for days. We fucked until I was numb, but even then I didn’t want to stop until he bust a nut. Out my pussy and in my mouth his dick went. Squeezing his pecks, scratching his balls and grabbing his ass. “Drip, drip, drip” went his kids down my throat.

It tasted like spoiled soursop or maybe it’s because I ate that “sour sour” a little before 😂. We were about to start again when the janitor pushed the door. Nigga turned Bruce Lee, acting like he was doing press ups. 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I couldn’t help but laugh although I was mad she interrupted my dick session. I smiled all the way home feeling like I had accomplished a mild stone. I had never gone home that late before and caused more drama than pleasure. I could hardly explain myself to my mom and that earned me several slaps across the face. I went to school the next morning looking like I had a conflict a beehive. Again, I became the class clown. And after giving him such high standard A+ pussy, I thought the nigga would have picked up for me. He acted like he didn’t know me and even made fun of me. I hated him so much, I didn’t even remember he had taken my virginity.

I bumped into him today and god damn, I wanna suck his dick all over again 🙄😔🤦‍♂️. I took his number but I don’t even know what to text and say. Fuck you Bouyd lol, do not judge me and do not post my name 😂. I want to fuck him so bad. “Bun mi man fi Christmas”

Yours truly,

Jade ❣️

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fantaledfish · 7 years

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Follower Ask Thing

I was tagged by @ask-oncelers-race-car-bed and I really should be doing something useful like buying paper towels but given I’m not ready to leave the house yet, I feel like this is a good thing to get done first. Let’s get to it:

5 Things You’ll Find in My Bag:

1. Two full decks of Magic: The Gathering Cards and a few extras just sort of floating around. One is on loan from an acquaintance, and one I created at a chaos draft that I participated in yesterday. I’m really new to Magic, technically I learned to play a few years ago, but these last few months have been the first period of time where I was really exposed to passionate players and got the chance to play fairly regularly and attempt to better myself.

2. The keys and padlock to a bike lock set. The length of cord that is the actual bike lock is not in my bag at the moment, but I keep the smaller pieces in my bag so that I don’t lose them. I ride my bike everywhere because I don’t have a car yet. It’s inconvenient and awful and this weekend I’ll probably have a gofundme up to help out with that, because I am struggling to live my life in a town where public transportation does not exist. On the flip side, I am getting a ton of exercise and maintaining a body that I am very happy with so that’s good.

3. My comb and makeup bag. I met a really important person yesterday who could potentially be a part of my life for....forever, really, going forward, if all goes according to plan, and I wanted to look nice, so I brought my primping stuff to class with me so that I could prepare before my club meeting. Hopefully I wasn’t intimidating, that really wasn’t the goal but I worry about it.

4. Deodorant. I ride a bike to my campus. Which is 5 miles away. Enough said about that.

5. As of right now I actually have several indecent things in my bag. They’re just rather handy to have. It’s like a Giant Limestone Cube, yeah? Because you never know!

5 Things You’ll Find in My Bedroom:

1. There’s a cat. There’s another one around here somewhere but I can’t see him from where I’m sitting. There is at least one cat in my room right now thought.

2. A queen sized bed. It makes me feel like a movie star when I wake up in the mornings.

3. Several pieces of Labyrinth themed art, including an authentic movie poster from back in the day. I love them all very much, I need more art. My bedroom walls are still rather bare.

4. Clothing, everywhere. On the floor, on hangers, in my chest of drawers when I manage to get it there, on hooks on my door. I’m not a tidy person and it makes me flip out and go into a whirlwind of activity whenever someone threatens to come over. I want to be a tidy person I just don’t really have time.

5. A plush ferret. This is a substitution of the real thing, a very sweet very bad girl who still lives with my parents up North.

5 Things I’ve always wanted to do in my life (I feel these are rather obvious to people who follow me so I’m keeping this section very short)

1. Publish books

2. Be a singer in a band

3. Have a pitbull

4. Own a wardrobe consisting of 25% ballgowns that I wear regularly and with no occasion required

5. Live in the city. Not all cities work for this, but many do.

5 Things On My To Do List:

1. Homework

2. Cleaning

3. Settling the prevailing and tiresome question of ‘What The Hell is Our Relationship, Anyway?”

4. GETTING A FUCKING CAR 5. Go shopping. I need milk. And Candy.

5 Things That Make Me Happy:

1.Completing a game to 100%. I’m a completionist but I set strict rules for myself for each game so that I don’t let myself go insane and never have fun again and pour 50 hours into doing something that I hate. If its doable, I go for it, and when I do it, I love it.

2. Writing for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing for D&D, for the various other RPGs I’ve been involved in, and even for assignments, but nothing makes me happier than developing a plot idea myself, with no outside incentive, and then refining and writing that idea and seeing where it takes me. I hope to do more of it in the future.

3. Spending time with my partner. (And my friends but that’s a given.) With my partner its special, because I live near them now. I spent 5 years not even really with them, and 400 miles away as well. And now I live here. I get to see them four days or more out of the week. It’s fucking incredible. It could be better, there are things to improve on, but I never thought I’d get here, and here I am.

4. Playing D&D. I can write D&D, sure, but I love playing D&D. I fucked up my last DMs story but he rolled with it and we all had so much fun. I mean D&D also may have permanently burned one of my bridges (working on unburning it) but I still love it. I love it.

5. College. I’m in college! I hated high school. College is fun. I feel in control of myself for the first time in a very long time. Its a good feeling.

5 Things I’m (Currently) Into:

1. The Witcher. Not Wild Hunt, just, The Witcher. I haven’t played Wild Hunt but I can’t wait to because I’m very gay for Yennefer. I played the first one to full completion, it took 60 hours and was a janky time and I loved every minute of it. I’m on the second one now. It feels a little different and I definitely don’t like it as much but I’m going through it. It just opened up and feels like a real game so maybe now I can like it more.

2. Critical Role. I watch so slowly and the story of Vox Machina has already ended and hhhhhhhhhhh. However, I’m going to keep watching and catching up, and when the new story starts up I’m going to watch that as it goes while I simultaneously watch Vox Machina because I think if I got any more behind I’d go insane.

3. Dr. Pepper. I had a Dr. Pepper on Monday and it was the best fucking thing I’ve ever drunk. I’ve had Dr. Pepper before but never have I loved it so goddamn much. I want more. I need to buy more Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper in bulk.

4. Kingdom Hearts. I’m also working on playing through the full Kingdom Hearts series for the first time ever. I’ve played them before, but when I played them I was young and really really bad at games of all kinds. I am no longer bad at games of all kinds, and am doing really well. It hasn’t gotten stupidly complicated yet but I’m ready.

5. Analytical Youtubers. Last year when my anxiety problems were at a height I couldn’t do anything without something going on in the background, so I found a whole bunch of analytical youtubers that talk about games, philosophy, movies, math, writing, anything, and played them whenever I needed to accomplish a task. Now I play them because I love them. I love thinking about mechanics and cinematography and I love analyzing trends and seeing other people doing it too.

5 Things People May Not Know About Me:

1. I started as a strict poetry blog. Now I call my blog the ambiguous ‘journal’ because it has what I need and what I like and what tickles my fancy. It’s got cute animals and a ton of art and a very existentialist thread of humor running through it. I don’t think it will be a poetry blog again. Maybe occasionally.

2. I read massive amounts of fanfiction from all sorts of fandoms, and have for the last four years, and can’t see myself stopping anytime soon. I’m really not public with anyone about that part of my life but it exists, and it makes me happy.

3. I hate the cold. Anything under 75 F is too cold, and it makes me actively miserable. I endured 18 years of temperate zone living, and now that I’m braving the confederacy its notably better than it was. I still wear a big hoodie with every outfit though, it gives me a really informal look to go with my elegant every day wear.

4. I expect my body to last until I am at least 93. Harriet Tubman died at 93, and as one of my lifelong heroes, she has set the par for respectable age. My family has some damn good genes so I think its doable.

5. I am an artist. I’m not a professional artist, but sometimes, I make art. It is rather good art for the most part. I may post some, sometime. It isn’t digital though, I have no idea how to do that.

People I’m tagging: Well, let’s go with 5 because that’s the theme this time around. @scarvesindoors @asurprigingamountofbisexuals @mekonari (Hi Emily!) @friendfromthelitterbox @pessimisticrainbow

#ask me #get to know me meme #whoooo #long post

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bburningbridges · 7 years

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in this life, the days are full of joy

Summary: Kaldur is a kid--despite his best efforts to deny himself that right--and therefore, should live as kids do: happily. (In which Kaldur makes some friends, learns some lessons, and falls in love, smiling.)

notes: my embarrassingly late YJ Mini Big Bang fic! it takes place in season 1 and the art was drawn by the wonderful @shadesninde! i love the results and im so glad this came together so well!!!

It starts with Batman. Or rather, the girl by Batman’s side, with eyes half-closed from what could be weariness or simply exhaustion and fishnets. It takes Kaldur all of ten seconds to recognize her as Zatara’s daughter, and his stomach does that horrible motion that feels like ocean waves crashing against rocks. He never lets it show in face, choosing instead to meet her and give the smallest, most reassuring smile he can manage without drawing Batman’s attention.

Zatanna, on her part, responds with the barest quirk of her lips--Kaldur takes it as a step in the right direction.

“Aqualad,” Batman says, “a word.”

Other people might end a sentence like that with a question mark. Batman is not other people. Thankfully, he’s coming to a stopping point in his book anyway, and puts up no fight as he stows Steig Larsson away for later. The flooring in the cave feels cold even to him as he goes to meet Batman and Zatanna, and about two paces away from them he’s vaguely aware that Robin’s probably in a vent somewhere, watching.

“Hello, Batman, Zatanna,” Kaldur says, and then to Zatanna adds, “My condolences about your father. How have you been faring?”

“Thank you, Kaldur,” she says soft, but sincere. She turns her gaze to the side and nods shakily, “I’ve been…..faring, I guess.”

He nods, accepting it as a valid answer; he can see the oceanic storms in her eyes and for that reason, it is answer enough. “The team and I are available for you in any way. If there is anything we can do to help you, please, let me know.”

Zatanna looks at him again, this time her eyes are shiny and he does his best to not react to that. “Thanks,” she says again, but she sounds less shaky this time.

“This is actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Batman says. “The League--and Zatanna, of course--have decided to place her on the team, permanently for now. She fits well into your dynamic and has already proved to us that she’s a powerful asset.”

Batman has a curious way of cheering up others--perhaps he knows that his oddly professional compliments delivered in his deep monotone are as grounding as they are factual; there’s something about his delivery that can straighten shoulders, lift chins, brighten smiles. Kaldur’s seen it in just about every team member and Zatanna is no exception; she sniffs once and then tries to hide a fairly satisfied smile behind it.

“And the company’s not so bad,” she adds, in a tone more like herself.

“I am happy to hear it,” he says, and he means it, wholeheartedly, and hopes Zatanna grasps that. He extends a hand out to her, and when she reaches out to meet it, grabs her in a firm Atlantean shake. “Welcome to the team, Zatanna. We are happy to have you.”

“Honestly speaking….I’m pretty happy to have you guys too, Kaldur.”

He smiles automatically, one that she returns in full, and as they release each other Batman says, “Call in the rest of the team.”

“Ah,” Kaldur hums, casting his eyes up to the vent just a bit to the left of them, “I am sure by now they now. Is that not correct, Robin?”

It turns out he was wrong--Robin drops out of the vent to the right of them, clucking his tongue. “Getting soft in your old age, Kal? I practically told you where I was.”

Zatanna, surprisingly, doesn’t have the face most acquire after they witness Robin drop from the unknown for the first time. She looks more amused than scared, which is a convincing sign that she’s in the right place. “Welcome to team, Zee,” Robin grins, somehow unfazed by the hard glare Batman’s aiming at him. “Don’t worry about making a formal call, Kal.”

“I know,” he says, one eyebrow quirked. “Where you go, Kid Flash is not far behind.”

As if on cue, Kid Flash appears in the room in--well, a flash--one arm propped on Robin’s shorter shoulder. And the rest of the team trickles in after that, trying to look surprised even though Kaldur knows full well they’re a bunch of snoops who’ve likely been listening to the conversation since the beginning. He sighs, equal parts exasperated and affectionate for the lot of them, when Batman is suddenly hovering next to him and speaking in a tone low enough that no one else can pick up.

“Look out for her, Aqualad. You aren’t just leading a team of heroes--but a circle of friends. Zatanna needs support both on and off a battlefield.”

“I understand,” Kaldur nods, and Batman makes a vaguely approving sound in the back of his throat. He takes his leave not too long after, Zatanna standing amidst a circle of new friends, and when her gaze floats to catch his eye, he meets her smile with one equally sincere.

It turns out that Zatanna fits into the team like a glove--especially, to Kaldur’s exasperation, with Robin’s schemey tendencies and Artemis’ blunt honesty. Which is to say she spends a great deal of time drifting about Kaldur and being nosy.

“So….what do you do for fun around here?”

Kaldur sips his tea, eyeing her over the rim. He knows this tactic. He’s too savvy to the rest of them; she’s building up to something.

“Stop crime throughout the globe in the event that the League--”

“Kal.”

He smirks, to remind her that she’s not the only one with a sense of humor. “Read, mostly,” he admits. “I was rushed to learn English as quickly as possible and I prefer to practice often to keep myself sharp.”

Zatanna looks humbly surprised. “What kind of books?”

“Stieg Larsson, as of late.”

“Good choice,” she says. “Have you seen the movie yet?”

He pauses in his next sip. “Movie?”

“Yeah! It’s so--actually, I won’t spoil it for you. But now we have Friday night plans.”

“Do we now?”

“Yes, you nerd, I will chain your ass to that couch if I have to but you’re watching that movie with me. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Laughing, Kaldur simply shakes his head. “If you insist.”

“Insist I do,” Zatanna sniffs. “Oh, here’s a question for you--is there math under the sea? Like do you learn to do calculus with fish or…?”

“Ha,” he says dryly. She simply grins at him; it matches Robin’s. He can hardly believe how alike they act already and it’s barely been two weeks. “Yes, we learn math in our school systems.”

“Great!” And, ah, there it is--Zatanna whips out a notebook and a paperback workbook. “Please help me, I think algebra might actually kill me.”

Either her tone of voice, or maybe the sheer despair in her expression, squeezes a laugh out of him, and he tries to compose himself in a reasonable amount of time without accidentally offending her. It sort of works, but she mostly seems pleased that she’s gotten him to break.

“Of course,” he says, still staving off extra waves of giggles. “Though I make no promises that I know any of this any better than you do. I haven’t looked at this type of work in a long time.”

Zatanna already has a pencil in his hand, somehow, so he guesses she’s largely unfazed by that fact. “Let me guess--you’re in like, advanced advanced honors math?”

“Wha--oh, you misunderstand,” he explains, after a moment’s confusion, “I do not attend school on the surface at all.”

“What?”

(She doesn’t seem outraged, more like betrayed. Also, like she may be plotting to do whatever it is that he’s done to ensure herself the same treatment.)

Kaldur wiggles his free hand, showing his obviously webbed fingers and tattoo. “I’m far too noticeable. There is not enough makeup in the world to hide my true self from civilians.”

“You lucky duck.”

“It’s not as great as you’re thinking,” he says honestly. “The cave has been lonesome as of late, now that M’gann and Connor are attending school. Black Canary enjoys...how do you put it...”

“Kicking the crap out of you?”

“Precisely.”

She snorts, propping her chin in her hand as she leans on the tabletop. “Yeah, but I’d rather put my feet up all day than go through this,” and she gestures grandly at the homework laid out. “This is like torture by quadratic formula.”

“It keeps you busy,” he points out.

“Yeah, I guess, mom, but it’s still boring.”

“Zatanna--”

“What about Red Arrow?” she interrupts. “He’s sort of on the team, isn’t he? Robin and Wally barely shut up about him. I guess I figured he’d be around more, since you guys are so close.”

Kaldur hates how quickly he clams up at the mere mention of Roy; in a handful of seconds he’s gone from perfectly fine to not, just because she brought him up. Hopefully, it does not show on his face. He clears his throat to give him an extra moment to kickstart his brain, and then says, “Roy visits occasionally.”

“But?”

“But….it is just that: occasional. He does not like it here.”

Don’t tell her how often you go to his place, he thinks

“Typically, I make the trip to visit him.”

….Damn it.

“See! That’s fun! I’m stuck in a desk all day and you get to galavant around the city with Roy.” She makes a truly bizarre face at him as she says Roy’s name, and Kaldur’s mortification is hidden by the startled laugh it draws from him.

“I am getting the feeling that you will not believe me no matter what I say.”

“Correcto, Kal. Deny all you want, but lounging around the cave all day must be nice. We’ll be doing a lot of that together, won’t we, roomie?” She cracks her knuckles and points a problem on the open page. “Now, be a dear and explain to me what the hell conics are?”

Things get both better, and worse, in a truly bizarre fashion that Kaldur has come to associate with the life of a hero. On one hand, Zatanna fits to the team like a glove, easily getting along with the other members and Kaldur himself, but members of the League make frequent checkups on her. He isn’t sure where she stands, legally, as Dr. Fate seems less inclined to release his host than ever, but from what Kaldur has picked up--certainly not by eavesdropping, of course--there may be a chance at getting Batman involved. Kaldur’s just….not going to touch that proverbial can of worms until someone can give him a rundown of what is actually going on. And on the other hand, for every cheeky line Zatanna dishes out, she has dozens of moments of pained silence, and he isn’t sure how to help her anymore than he already has been. It feels like he could do more...he just isn’t sure what ‘more’ would be.

Plus, Kaldur’s relationship with the surface world is fluctuated more than ever. He has more bad days than good days, and he’s not sure where the sudden change came from, or if his attempts to reassure King Orin are working.

The good news out of all of this is that he spends more of his evenings with his feet up on Roy’s dingy coffee table, listening to Roy complain and/or theorize, and generally just...hanging out.

It’s nice. They don’t get to do this as often anymore.

They’re both in civvies, by Roy’s request, because even he grows sick of the constant rush of always being in uniform. Kaldur finds that he doesn’t actually like arguing with Roy, particularly on trivial matters, thus the borrowed sweatpants and UCLA shirt.

“Listen,” says Roy, which is automatically impossible for Kaldur to do because Roy has been gallivanting about the apartment without a shirt on for the last ten minutes, and it’s far more distracting that Kaldur would like to admit. “I’m just saying--”

“Batman was very clear about discussing a possible mole,” Kaldur interrupts. “Not that I do not trust your judgement, but you are leaning too heavily on speculation.”

“You think I dreamed up Artemis’ past?”

“No, but I hardly believe family ties are enough to negate the fact that Artemis has nearly died for the team multiple times.”

“The same goes for whoever the mole might be!”

Kaldur puts a hand on his face, “Okay, allow me to rephrase: discussing this endlessly gets us nowhere, and you are giving me a headache. I came to see you because I enjoy your company, not because I enjoy talking in circles for hours on end.”

Roy only shuts up long enough to laugh, which Kaldur isn’t as mad about as he could’ve been. “Okay, fine,” he half-chuckles. “You could’ve started with that, you know?”

Kaldur simply shrugs. “I did not want to be misunderstood. My team is in danger, and I am grateful that you have made it a concern of yours to keep us safe, but I need a break, occasionally.”

“Which is why you came to me, I get it. Sorry, Kal. I’m even the one who begged you to put on sweatpants, but this isn’t as relaxing as it could’ve been.” Roy looks down at the floor and sighs, then jerks a thumb to the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a soda, then we can sit down and talk and paint our nails or whatever. Want anything?”

It’s more or less a question Roy already knows the answer to--Kaldur doesn’t have a sweet tooth, but he does have a taste for dark sodas, which Wally is half-responsible for. It was the first drink he’d ever had on the surface world aside from water, and it was essentially love at first sip. “A Dr. Pepper,” he says, and Roy darts into the kitchen to grab it.

He comes out with two cans, tosses one at Kaldur, and drops onto the other side of the couch. After a few huge sips, he sets it down and says, “So, I talked to Ollie yesterday.”

Kaldur pauses as he pops open his can. “Really?”

“Well, Ollie talked to me. He says he wants to make sure I’m not dead, but he also had takeout and Fifa in his hand, which, last I checked, isn’t necessary to make sure someone’s still kicking. But anyways, he told me that Aquaman’s been a little….what’s the word…”

Suddenly, the soda is very interesting, and Kaldur can’t look at Roy anymore.

“Ah,” Roy says dryly, “I got it, it’s bitchy.”

Putting a little too much force into it, Kaldur pops the tab and the drink fizzles down his hand. “King Orin has not been--”

He stops short, because Roy’s appraising him with a specific look. And then Kaldur realizes he’s been played.

Shaking the soda off his hand, he fights a small smile. “...perhaps the king has been in less than high spirits.”

“And why’s that, Kal?” Roy’s eyebrows quirk upwards. “You don’t think it’s because his uptight protege looks like someone took the fish out of his fishsticks all the time, right?”

Kaldur can’t stop himself; he frowns, “I do not look like that. I do not even know what that would look like.”

“It means you look like you did last time Orin got this worried about you. Did something happen with Garth and Tula again?” Roy’s tone has changed entirely, turning more quiet and gruff. “Wanna talk about it?”

Kaldur tries not to wince. The last time he’d spoken about Garth and Tula, he’d been in a less than stellar mood, and he hadn’t skimped on tossing the word ‘heartbroken’ around. And he had been, truly, broken up over getting rejected. He’d felt like an alien in his own home. But things have changed since then; for one, he has a better relationship with his oldest friends now than before, when he’d been so reliant on Tula to uphold an image of himself that didn’t quite...exist.

It is beyond bad timing to be thinking about...this in such close proximity to Roy, for a myriad of reasons, and besides, it isn’t entirely relevant to this particular conversation.

“Nothing has happened with Garth and Tula,” Kaldur starts. He hesitates, then admits, “I’m worried about Zatanna.”

“Zatara’s kid?” Roy blinks. “Why’s that?”

“I cannot gage how well she is adjusting,” he says. “The League checks on her, but Dr. Fate is more militant in his grip on Zatara than he ever was with Kent Nelson. I fear she is not taking it well.”

“She seems fine to me, and the League, according to Ollie.”

Kaldur takes a small sip of his soda. “That is what worries me. I am well aware of what hiding yourself looks like, and I fear that may be what she doing.”

“Ah,” Roy says quietly. “Is that all?”

Kaldur’s surprised enough to cast a glance at him, which Roy simply shrugs at. “Like you said, you’re good at hiding things. Sometimes I’ve gotta a dig a little.”

Kaldur scoffs in reply. “I believe that is something I am familiar doing towards you as well.”

Roy smacks him with a throw pillow, nearly knocking the soda out his hand, but he’s laughing. “I get it, Kal, we both suck at being open. Now quit being a smartass and tell me what’s on your mind.”

As the last of his chuckles fade, Kaldur sets his can down on the table, definitely does not look at Roy, and says, “My days at the Cave have been...lonelier, as of late.”

“So you do miss Atlantis?”

“No, I mean, well, yes, always. But not like before. And that is not the cause of my loneliness.” Kaldur sighs. “I spend most of my days in the Cave alone, while the others are at school. Frankly, it is boring. I do not know what we expected when we started this team, but I’ve made incredible friends, and I do not get to fill my days with schoolwork or family dinners the way they do. And it is...lonesome.”

“...jeez, Kal,” Roy says. After a moment he leans forward on his knees, biceps tightening as he puts his chin on his fist. “You could, maybe, tell Aquaman that? Before he brings down the fucking government to figure out what upset you?”

“He wouldn’t,” Kaldur says tiredly.

“He could. Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s responsible for you and all that, he takes it very seriously.”

Kaldur gives him a look that’s just downright confused. “What do you mean?”

Waving his hand, Roy says, “Ollie says he’s pretty damn proud of you. Like, if he had a wallet, it would be filled with pictures of you kind of proud.”

There’s no intelligent comment that comes to Kaldur’s brain, so he just blinks at Roy like he’s grown as a second head.

“It’s a joke. I mean, not really, because I’m about ninety percent sure he actually has it, but it’s just making fun of something really involved dads do.”

“King Orin isn’t my father,” he says after several moments of silence.

“No kidding.”

“Then why would he--”

His phone chimes loudly, and Kaldur cuts himself short to check the caller ID.

“Zatanna?”

“Kal, where are you?”

Kaldur looks at Roy, at his sweatpants, and the couch. “...nowhere important,” and Roy makes a small sound that could be either amusement or offense, Kaldur can’t tell but turns so his back is to him anyway. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No. Nothing at all, Kal, except you totally bailed on me.”

“What?”

“It’s movie night, remember? Stieg Larsson!”

Kaldur sits there, truly confused as he racks his brain for any recollection of what she might be talking about. “Wait,” he says, remembering the first night she’d approached him with her homework. It feels like so long ago, but it’s been at the most, two weeks. “You were serious?”

“As a heartattack. We’ve been busy every weekend since, but we all bit the bullet and got our homework done early enough we would be able to have some free time. And it’s not a team event unless you’re with us.”

Kaldur swallows hard. Though his voice doesn’t betray it, he’s moved by her words and the solemn sincerity in her voice. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be there soon.”

And then he hears a chorus of cheers, and he realizes he was so confused he hadn’t noticed that Zatanna had him on speakerphone the whole time.

“You better be!” Zatanna’s voice picks up over the noise, but she sounds relieved.

“Yeah, Kal, the one night we actually get a breather and you’re off doing who-knows-what--”

“Okay, okay,” Kaldur says, starting to chuckle.

“Get your but back to the base ASAP!” Robin’s voice chimes in, “Oh, and tell Roy he can come to!”

“You’re with Roy?”

“I am hanging up now,” Kaldur informs them all, and does just that.

When he turns back around, Roy is red in the face from trying not to laugh. Kaldur rolls his eyes at him, but he quietly notes that Roy does seem to be more relaxed, even after speaking with Ollie, and that is a good sign, at least. He raises one eyebrow delicately. “Something funny?”

“No, not at all,” Roy shakes his head. “Just don’t look so surprised whenever people actually give a shit about you, okay? I’m not sure if it makes me wanna hug you or deck everyone else.”

Kaldur blinks at him a few times. Roy laughs again, then shoos him off the couch. “Get outta here, hang out with your team.”

“You won’t be coming with me?”

“Hell no,” he says flatly. “I’m not gonna volunteer to hang out at daycare.”

“Roy--”

“Yell at me next time,” he snorts. “Now go. Night, Kal.”

Kaldur feels an odd smile turn at the corner of his mouth, and tries to keep it contained as he gathers his things. “Goodnight, Roy.”

Sometimes it’s so hard to feel warmth in his chest when Roy smiles; it’s like suffocating, knowing he is drowning in a terrible secret.

And other times….it’s not hard at all.

Upon returning to the Cave, Kaldur receives no less than three wolf-whistles, three open stares, and feels his heart climb into his throat when Zatanna comments, “Didn’t know you liked UCLA, Kal.”

He holds up his hands, not really sure what he wants to do with them, and winds up making a ‘go away’ gesture at all of them, to their delight.

Despite that, movie night is wonderful.

Kaldur can’t get Roy’s words out of his head, about Aquaman, and he decides to do the responsible thing and speak to his king face to face. However, knowing it is the right thing to do doesn’t make it any less awkward.

“So you are not having trouble making connections on the surface?” Orin asks, voice carefully pitched but face full of concern.

Kaldur shakes his head. “No, it is, if anything, the opposite, my King. I know there was reason for concern before, but the team has come out of our ordeals stronger than ever. I fear it is the bond we’ve made that leaves me feeling so...alone, when they are not around.”

Orin strokes his beard, nodding. Kaldur tries to ignore the fact that this feels like trying to explain to Batman that he’d been maybe-in-love-or-something-else with Tula so many months ago.

….oh, Roy was right, he is terrible at being open.

“I will discuss something with Batman. Thank you for being honest with me, Kaldur’ahm,” Orin says, places a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “I simply wish you would tell me of these things sooner.”

“I apologize, my king--”

“Do not,” Orin cuts him off sternly. “That is something we both need to work on. I will do my best to be more aware of your needs on the surface world, in exchange for you being much more honest with me than you have been in the past.”

Kaldur looks at him, unsure of what to say, of how to ask if Orin is alluding to what he thinks he’s alluding to. “My king…?”

“I am aware of your past altercation with Garth.”

Oh, Kaldur had been wrong about the comparison to Batman. This is much worse.

“We resolved it,” he mumbles, and he can’t think of the last time he’d been so embarrassed he couldn’t look his king in the eye. “That is no longer an issue.”

“In regards to Tula, I am sure it is not. But I am well aware of what habits you fall to when you experience feelings you are unfamiliar with, Kaldur’ahm.”

Not that Kaldur has ever died before, but he’s sure this very moment is worse. He hadn’t been lying when he said the king wasn’t his father--Cal Durham was, he knew that--but it still feels like being scolded and getting interrogated about the nuances of a crush by a parent nonetheless.

“Forgive me, I am not sure how to say this delicately,” Kaldur says hesitantly.

“Perhaps start by simply saying it.”

Not that he ever envisioned having this conversation, but Kaldur definitely didn’t think he’d ever...come out to Orin like this. Or at any time. In his defense, it has been a tumultuous time, lately.

“I….feel similarly towards a team member as I did toward Tula,” he starts, slowly, and not all confidently.

And then he remembers what Roy had said, about Orin and pride and toting said pride with wherever he went.

“This team member is male, my king, and I hope that you do not perceive me differently for this or--”

“Kaldur’ahm, be calm, my son,” says Orin, and that alone is enough to make Kaldur’s shoulders sag with relief.

Orin grips him by both shoulders, staring him head on. “There is no thing I can think of that could make me perceive you as anything but a prize of Atlantis, and the best choice for my protege. Have no fear, Kaldur’ahm, I care for you all the same. I have failed you in many ways, but I will not fail you in this regard.”

He hugs Kaldur after that, and Kaldur breathes, at last.

A week after that conversation, Batman calls Kaldur for private conversation. Except their private conversation also includes Aquaman and Zatanna.

He isn’t sure how to process the information at first. Aquaman’s presence helps, but he remains wary even after the king places a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“Kaldur’ahm, be calm,” he assures, and that does help.

“Is something wrong, my king?” He casts a glance at Zatanna, who beams at him, which is just more confusing.

“I spoke to Batman about my concerns for your wellbeing. However, Zatanna was the one who reached out to us about a possible solution.”

She shrugs sheepishly. “Ever since you mentioned being alone in the Cave all the time I started working out charms that could disguise you. And I think I finally got one.”

She holds up a necklace with a golden ball as a pendant. At his blank stare, she hides a laugh, “You wear it and it makes you look more like a surface-dweller. No gills, no tattoos, no webbing.”

“In other words, as long as it works, you could go about the surface world outside of missions,” Batman explains. “Like the rest of the team. Even attend school.”

Oh. Oh.

Though his jaw doesn’t quite hit the floor, Kaldur feels himself go slackjawed and simply stares at Zatanna like she’s grown a second head. “You...developed this for me?”

“Of course, Kal.” She looks half sad by his surprise, and motions for him to lean down enough so she can put it around his neck. “You’re my friend. I noticed how you’ve been slipping lately, and then movie night was the final kick in the pants I needed to get this done. Sorry it took so long.”

He can’t think of anything else to say besides, “Thank you, Zatanna. You did not have to do this.”

Zatanna sniffles, then pushes him back into an upright position. “I know, that’s sort of why I did it,” she says, then catches him in a quick hug. She steps back to hold him at arm’s length, appraising her work. “Not that you weren’t hot before, because you really were, but, uh….this is a good look on you.”

Kaldur snorts, thankful for once that it's Zatanna who's the most awkward person in the room, rather than him. He turns to Aquaman and Batman, expression hopeful. “Is this acceptable?”

Aquaman’s smiling, really smiling, and claps a hand on Kaldur’s shoulder, laughing. “It is wonderful! Truly, this is Zatara’s daughter. You have a way with magic, my dear.”

“Thank you,” she says, obviously pleased.

Batman doesn’t smile, per se--at least, not like Orin, but he’s at least vaguely happy. Or so Kaldur supposes. It’s hard to tell. “Good work, Zatanna.”

She beams, and Kaldur can’t help but feel just as excited.

The charm changes more than just his gills.

It makes his hair appear jet black and curly, and rounds his jaw, but his eyes keep their shade. He spends an ample amount of time looking at himself in the mirror and struggling to recognize the person staring back.

“Hold still, Kal--holy shit, you’re gonna break so many hearts,” Artemis says giddily. She swings an arm around him and Zatanna snaps a photo of both of them. “Seriously. This almost makes me wish you were coming to Gotham just to see the girls there lose their minds.”

M’gann giggles behind her hand. “This really is pretty amazing, Zatanna. And Kaldur, I mean, you’ve always been almost ridiculously handsome...” she trails off, looking flustered.

Kaldur smiles, surprised and flattered all at once, and when Wally gives Conner a slackjawed look he simply shrugs and says, “She’s not wrong.”

“Okay,” Wally says flatly, “anyone else wanna say they’ve been in love with Kaldur, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Aye,” his team says together, and that makes Kaldur’s face warm and he laughs again, unsure of what else to do under the weight of their stares.

“As fun as it would be to attend to school with you, Artemis,” Kaldur says, honestly, because he can only imagine how Artemis’ alter ego might act, “I’ve already discussed with Aquaman and Batman. I’ll be attending Happy Harbor with M’gann and Conner.”

“And me!” Zatanna adds, beaming. “I’ll be transferring in December. Uh, surprise?”

M’gann immediately hugs her and squeals, in a way that’s so endearing, Zatanna can’t help but squeeze her in return. “This is going to be so exciting!”

“Our fearless leader’s growing up,” Robin says, smirking, and Kaldur immediately thinks of all the times Roy called him less-than-flattering names for giving him the same treatment.

“If you ever need any chem help, you know where to turn to, bro,” Wally promises.

“We finally get to help you the same way you’ve been helping us this whole time!”

Conner makes a face. “No promises from me. I mean, I’ve always got your back just...don’t ask me about English. I actually might make things worse for you.”

Kaldur laughs, which Conner looks pleased by, and he’s almost overwhelmed by how excited his team is for him.

“What name are you gonna use?” M’gann says thoughtfully. “I’m sure you could get away with Kal still, but you’ll need a last name.”

“Actually, I was thinking of using Curry.”

M’gann looks like she actually might cry, but keeps it together when she says, “I love it.”

“Alright, Kal Curry, hold still.” He’s caught by surprise when Artemis slips behind him and pulls the necklace off.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to forget you. You you.” She bumps their shoulders together, and pushes his hand closed around the necklace. “I get having to hide, but here? With us? You’re still purely you.”

Kaldur nods appreciatively, thankful she’s taken to the extra step to make him comfortable. She, M’gann, and Conner are at least vaguely aware of the disputes with Atlantean purists; frankly, Kaldur, despite his discomfort, displeasure, and anger with the creatures who try so hard to shame the diversity of his home, hasn’t thought of it in a while. He’s been….distracted, to say the least.

“Thank you, Artemis,” he says quietly.

She smiles at him, and behind her his team wears similar looks of genuine affection, and it’s a lot to take in. He’s not used to the attention, but he supposes, he should start to try getting more comfortable with it.

And not a minute later, he gets a text from Roy saying: nice look and the bewildered expression on his face prompts a round of hearty laughter from the team. Robin winks, and says, “What? He wanted to see!”

Kaldur just groans.

By the time M’gann makes the cheerleading team, Kaldur’s up to his ears in catch up work, both in school and out. It had been a while since he’d been in school, and he had to adjust, slowly but surely, to the constant pressure on his brain reminding him of a looming test. He admits, he missed it, in a weird way. Not that he particularly loves chemistry--though, his magic has made him very familiar with it--but he find it relaxing to solve problems in a topic he knows so well.

Also, M’gann is in his chemistry class, and she has more of a tendency to mix chemicals wrong than he does. (To her credit, he’s pretty sure she does it just to make him laugh, and so far as a pretty high success rate.)

English is surprisingly tough; Kaldur is fluent, but writing timed essays still gets him frustrated. His teacher laments that he’s too wordy, and being a bit more concise would help him. Trigonometry is just as terrible as it when he helps Zatanna with her work, but World History is, by far, his favorite. (It is entirely possible French wants him dead.) The only class he doesn’t have with Conner or M’gann is Art History.

Due to entering later in the year, the only seat open the class in the back next to a kid with a clean-cut fade and a letterman jacket. He smiles easy at Kaldur, and Kaldur smiles easy right back.

“Call me Vic, man,” the kid says, hand out to shake.

“Calvin,” Kaldur replies, equally as friendly.

“Alright, Cal, I’m gonna be your savior in the class. Mr. Wiseman’s a tough dude but he mostly just looks scary--that doesn’t mean this stuff isn’t hard as shit though.”

Kaldur laughs, but soon learns Vic hadn’t been exaggerating.

Roy, being Roy, checks up on his him in the least subtle way ever: via text, on a Thursday night, as Kaldur’s hunched over a table full of homework, with Conner, Zatanna, and Wally.

From Roy Harper: So how’s school going, kid?

He groans immediately, ignoring the curious looks he gets from the others.

To Roy Harper: I do not know how, or why, but I fully believe you knew Aquaman was going to do this and did nothing to stop it.

From Roy Harper: Lol paranoid, much?

From Roy Harper: and yeah, i had a hunch, but i thought it would be good for you

To Roy Harper: I suppose you were not entirely wrong.

From Roy Harper: mhmm

To Roy Harper: My apologies. What I meant to say was thank you. Since when are you wise enough to give me good advice?

From Roy Harper: I’ve always been good at iti, I’m just shit at taking my own advice

From Roy Harper: also i should mention that i offered to let you live with me in star city but the jl didnt go for it

Wally has just about forgotten his homework by now, seconds away from bouncing out of his seat. “Kal, what is it? Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” Kaldur says in his best leader voice, and does his best to hammer his face into a neutral expression

To Roy Harper: You what?

From Roy Harper: i mean, it would've helped, right? with the loneliness?

To Roy Harper: Yes, of course. I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything before I already made plans with Batman and Aquaman.

From Roy Harper: didnt wanna pressure you

“Oh,” Zatanna stage-whispers, “I know that smile. That means he's talking to Roy.”

“Oh. Oh, wait, what,” Wally squeaks. “Really, dude?”

Conner, very impatiently, comments, “If you’re going to be this loud, you can do the rest of my math homework.”

“In your very best of dreams, Supey.”

“Then keep it down, Kid Can’t Shut Up.”

From Roy Harper: gtg, come over soon, we can talk about this later. plus i gotta hear your high school horror stories

From Roy Harper: and see Zatanna’s magic work in person, pics don’t do it justice

From Roy Harper: also, a little birdy told me you go by Curry now?

To Roy Harper: Goodbye, Roy.

From Roy Harper: hahahaha

From Roy Harper: see you, kal

Wally asks again why he’s smiling, and Kaldur, none to gentle, tells him to can it.

As the weeks go by, he spends most of days at Happy Harbor with M’gann and Conner, and sometimes with Vic, who turns out to be football captain, and takes to Kaldur like a house on fire. His favorite thing, apparently, is to scare the living daylights out of Kaldur by greeting him with a friendly slap on the back of the head by his locker. Kaldur will get used to it, eventually, but he admits his crime fighting instincts kick in every time.

Just before Thanksgiving break, Vic catches him first thing, while he’s still at his locker with M’gann and Conner before homeroom.

“Cal! Glad I caught you man,” Vic says, trading his typical head-slap with a fist bump instead. “Listen, the team’s throwing a get-together Friday night. You should come.” He glances to Conner and M’gann, and adds, “All of you. The hell, man, I didn’t know you knew Kent and Megan?”

“We go way back,” M’gann says cheerily. “And we’d be happy to go to your, um, get-together. Right, guys?”

Conner shrugs, which everyone at Happy Harbor seems to understand is his way of showing excitement. Kaldur, on the other hand, hesitates for a second too long.

“Nooo way, you can’t back out on me again. Last time you bailed because of the lamest reason ever, and I only take so many rainchecks before I get personally offended.”

What Kal doesn’t say is that last time, Sportsmaster had spent a good part of Friday night trying to take his head off via hand-axe. It was a mission that ended with Cheshire kicking him in the face--again--and tossing Robin over the side of a building. It had been spectacularly long night for the team, and he’d just barely remembered to text Vic that he wouldn’t be able to make it after all.

Instead, he shrugs noncommittally. “I’ll try my best,” he says honestly.

Vic sighs. “I guess I can take that. But if you bail again you owe me.”

He catches up to more of the football players after that, leaving Kaldur with M’gann and Conner.

“You are gonna go, right?” Conner says first.

“I am not sure,” Kaldur admits. “Victor is friendly, but I do not know the rest of the team, and--”

“Oh,” M’gann says suddenly, sounding concerned, “Kaldur, are you...nervous?”

The bell rings before he has to admit to anything.

Somehow, Zatanna finds out about the party, which means the whole team finds out about the party, via mental communications link, mid-mission.

“Wait, you were thinking about not going? What the heck, man! If the captain of the football teams says go to his party, you go to his party!”

“Is now really the time?” Kaldur grunts, trying to deflect a kick to the chest. Wally flashes by, carrying the merc off with him, and adds his two cents on his way out.

“I say go, man! Live a little, let your hair down. Chillaaaax.”

“Hey Wally? 2007 called, it wants its slang back.”

“Don’t hate, Arty, appreciate.”

“I’d appreciate it if your mouth didn’t move as fast as the rest of you did. On that note, I vote you go, Kal. Remember what I said about being a ladykiller?”

Kaldur does his best to express a bland expression via thought, which gets a few snickers.

“I don’t get it, why don’t you want to go?”

“He’s allowed to have his reasons,” Conner says. And then half-screams and he rips the metal doors of the facility open with his bare hands.

“Yeah, but what are they?”

“Enough,” Kaldur thinks in his most threatening command voice. “There is a time and place for civilian discussion, and right now is neither the time nor place. This discussion is indefinitely put aside.”

According to the team, “indefinite” means “as soon as we get back to base.” Kaldur’s barely out of the shower by the time someone’s knocking on his door, and he’s rushed to throw on a shirt and pants before he opens.

Somehow unsurprisingly, it’s Zatanna in the hallway, hip cocked and wearing an expression that makes his brow furrow. “Can we talk?” she says, already slipping inside his room.

She goes straight to his bed and tucks her feet up underneath her, the same way she’s done several times before. Her expression hasn’t changed.

Sighing, Kaldur closes the door and leans against it. “Zatanna--”

“No, you don’t get to do that anymore. Make excuses, I mean. Let me know what’s going on, or tell me to get out, just quit trying to hide.”

After a pause, she too sighs, allowing her shoulders to sag. “I’m not trying to harsh, it’s just that--you’ve been there for me since...I just want to return to the favor. That’s what friends do, Kal. Tell me what’s up.”

He must have a special talent for getting people to reach their final limits of patience. The air in the room turns uncomfortable, and Kaldur does his best to keep looking at the floor.

Roy was right. He really isn’t good at this.

“I am...I have my reservations about attending...for various reasons,” he says stiffly.

“Are you worried about the charm wearing off? I can give you a backup if that’s the problem.”

“No, no, Zatanna it is not your magic,” he says firmly. “You have done exemplary work. I have had no problems so far.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Kaldur drums his fingers against the door. “I do not want to put you in an uncomfortable position,” he says. “To ask you to harbor my secrets from the team is….”

“Dude, just say it already. I pinky swear no one’s gonna hear a word from me.” He hesitates, still, and she groans. “What will it take for you to talk to me? I’ve literally cried myself to sleep on your shoulder, secrets shmecrets. No matter how ugly you think it is, you can tell me. I promise, Kaldur.”

Kaldur stares at her for a long while. He crosses his arms, visibly hesitant, then says, “I do not know much about how teenagers relate to one another without supervision on the surface world.”

“Kal--” She stops, her nose scrunching in thought. “Oh, man, are you nervous?”

Again with that word--Kaldur makes a similar face as he had when M’gann said it, but this time there’s no bell to rescue him from explaining himself. Instead he’s forced to meet Zatanna’s concerned eyes and nod.

“It is much easier to be with M’gann and Conner than it is to be with other students. They know this,” he gestures to his hands and gills, “and they are comfortable with me as I am. I know the necessity of my ruse, but it makes it...difficult to be as honest as I would like to be. It makes connecting with the other students…”

He trails off as she slaps a hand to her forehead. “Of course, I hadn’t even thought about it…. M’gann does it so easily, but I should’ve known hiding yourself wouldn’t come as easily to anyone else. And you’re not really used to how regular kids interact and...aw, jeez, Kal. I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault.”

“I know, I know, but….I mean, I suggested this and now I want to help you.” She bites her lip. “It’s part of the problem of balancing two identities. Part of you is always gonna feel like you’re being dishonest. But you’re not. The reality of Calvin Curry is that he’s a transfer kid with an uncle from the area--but he’s also you, he’s kind, and he’s funny, and he’s genuine.”

Kaldur doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t been expecting that. He nods, unsurely, and Zatanna invites him to sit next to her.

“Listen,” she says, “as long as you can show those kids why we all love you, you’ll be fine. The only thing that’s any different is the name you write on your essays. And you can tell people you really trust who you are.” She grins, “That goes for the party, and for us on the team too.”

“Zatanna…”

“It won’t be easy, but you’ll get used to it. Plus, you always have M’gann and Conner, and soon you’ll have me too.”

He runs a hand over his head, trying to let her words sink in and let his guard down at the same time. It’s a similar feeling to going to the Academy in Atlantis; butterflies in the stomach at the thought of meeting so many new people and never knowing how well the interactions would go. But even then, he’d always had Tula and Garth by his side to ease his nerves.

What Zatanna is saying is the same concept, just different faces, but the trust and familiarity is all the same.

“Okay,” he says. “In that case, I will attend.”

“Really? Kal, I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you had to--”

“I know, I know,” he says. “I merely want to try what you have told me. Call this my leap of faith.”

He smiles, and she smiles just as brightly in return. Without warning, she throws her arms around in a short but tight squeeze. Perhaps in the past, Kaldur would’ve flinched at the unprompted contact, but he finds himself working an arm around her to warmly return the embrace.

“And, by the way, nice shirt.”

He looks down and to his embarrassment, realizes he’d thrown on Roy’s UCLA shirt in his haste to get dressed. Groaning to drown out her snickers, he says, “This did not happen.”

“I didn’t see anything,” she agrees, still giggling.

Kaldur, for all his apprehension, needn’t have worried; when he shows up, Vic smiles like it’s Christmas and immediately thanks M’gann for bringing him. “I knew I could count on you, Megan,” he says sincerely. He opens his arms for a hug, which Megan blesses him with, short and quick, and falls to her default by Conner’s side again.

“Kent, I owe you.”

“Consider it an early Christmas gift,” Conner replies.

Vic laughs. “I’ll take it! Y’all come in, it’s cold as shit out there. Drinks in the kitchen, dance floor downstairs, upstairs is off limits.” He throws an arm around Kaldur and squeezes, “Now you’ve gotta meet the team! And Mal, the big guy’s been dying to get me to shut up about you. But first, you need a drink.”

Vic’s about Kaldur’s size, even though Kal’s Atlantean strength gives him the upper hand, he lets Vic drag him away into the kitchen, where more kids are crowded into a variety of alcoholic drinks lay strewn about the counter.

“We’re saving our cash for Christmas, that’s when we splurge on the good stuff,” Vic explains. But grabs a beer can and presses it into Kaldur’s hands. “Bottoms up?”

Kaldur has had alcohol before--America’s drinking age is absurd, by Atlantean standards--but he’s never been big on it. Nonetheless, he cracks the can open and takes a long swig, causing Vic to cheer. “Okay, tough guy, wanna chug? We’ll chug.”

The beer tastes terrible, unbelievably bad, but Kaldur clinks cans wtih Vic and chugs it anyway. He’s not worried about getting intoxicated--not only is the beer gross, it’s practically water.

Which is why Vic gets him to chug another without much fight, and then they go off to find the rest of the team. As soon as Victor shows up, at least ten different voices all scream, “STONE!” at various levels of drunkenness.

Victor laughs smoothly and loudly and points to each team member as he says a name. “Joe Jackson, Nicky Free, the twins Lewis and Thomas Jones--” and he goes on, until Kaldur has more names in his head than he thinks he can list, but he smiles big and friendly at the other boys and they do the same. Another shoves up again him, and Kaldur finds himself dwarfed by a kid with nearly half a foot on him.

“And this fucking giant is Mal Duncan,” Vic says. “Mallie, quit thundering all over my parent’s place, you’ll bring it down!”

“Laugh it up, Stone, I’ll bring you down with it,” Mal jokes, as the two pull each other into a quick hug. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Calvin! Call him Cal. He’s the guy from my Art History class who should’ve joined the team this year, seriously. Don’t look at my like that, Cal, I’ve seen you run outta Wiseman’s class. You float like a butterfly and then some.”

Kaldur shrugs sheepishly, which gets a laugh out of Mal. “Don’t let him embarrass you too much. Give Stone an inch and he’ll make it a mile.”

“God, Mal, you sound so much like your old man right now.”

“And proud of it,” Mal shoots back.

“Mal’s old man works at STAAR Labs. He’s gonna get me a job there one day, right man?”

“In your fucking dreams.”

Kaldur can’t help it--he laughs out loud, both at Mal’s dry tone and Vic’s resulting pout. “Sorry--”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Vic knows he’s a joke,” Mal laughs. “And if I catch his ass anywhere near STAAR I’m slapping him into last week.”

“Vic, you were right,” Kaldur says, “you really do bring out the best in people.”

Mal belly laughs and Vic punches the both of them halfheartedly, and after that, it’s so much easier than Kaldur thought it would be.

Too easy, actually.

One of the cheerleaders shows up with a bottle of some liquor Kaldur can’t name, and before he knows it he’s had more than just a couple of shots, and it’s not until he bumps in Conner that he realizes he has gotten carried away.

“Kal, are you okay?” Conner’s squinting through the dark to try and see his face.

“I am fine,” Kaldur lies, with the confidence of someone who has just realized they are drunk. Or at least, buzzed. Which means it’s time to wrap this up; even inebriated, Kaldur’s still aware of his duties as a team leader. And that training tomorrow will be hell, should he wake up sick. “Actually, I think it would be best if we leave soon.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, I said I am fine,” Kaldur repeats. “But we have training tomorrow and I still run a team, and if Canary finds out that we missed morning training because of a party, I fear she may actually throw us through a wall.”

Conner snorts, but nods in agreement. “I’ll grab Megan. Don’t go too far, okay?”

“Okay,” says Kaldur. It’s just past 11:00 when he looks at his phone--and then he gets the brightest idea to text Roy. He’d typically be at Roy’s place around this time anyway, if movie night wasn’t an option.

To Roy Harper: remember that time you told me to let loose?

From Roy Harper: Kaldur you bastard

From Roy Harper: you did not got drunk without me

From Roy Harper: oh my god you got drunk??

To Roy Harper: i am not drunk

From Roy Harper: no proper punctuation? Looks drunk to me

Kaldur is extra careful to tap out his next message,

To Roy Harper: I am not drunk do not be ridiculous

From Roy Harper: yeah, bc im the ridiculous one in this situation

From Roy Harper: where are you?

To Roy Harper: Happy Harbor, with Conner and M’gann.

To Roy Harper: I am safe, mom, thank you for the concern

From Roy Harper: dear god are you sassing me?

To Roy Harper: I always sass you.

From Roy Harper: yeah but you have never in your life admitted to sassing me. This is insane. For my next birthday youre getting wasted and were gonna play 20 questions and then my life will be complete

To Roy Harper: I will tell you what we will not be doing.

From Roy Harper: booze makes you a sass monster idk how i feel about this

To Roy Harper: can you make it to the cave tonigght?

To Roy Harper: tonite

To Roy Harper: *tonight?

From Roy Harper: i would go to fucking mars rn if i meant i got to see you like this

To Roy Harper: I changed my mind, you are annoying, stay in Star City

From Roy Harper: too late, im omw

“Cal?”

He looks up to see Vic, smiling sloppily. “Okay, Calvin, I see you. Who’s the girl?”

“Huh?”

“The way you’re smiling at your phone? You’ve got a girl, right? Do I know her? Are y’all--”

Kaldur interrupts with a laugh, pulling Vic into a short hug. “Not a girl, my friend. Maybe I will tell you about it after break.”

“You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Thanks for this, Victor, really.”

“Hey, man, anytime. You’re fun as fuck, you get along with Mal--you gotta be a saint or something for that. I know moving around sucks, I just want you to know that Happy Harbor’s gonna be the best place you ever lived. I want you to love this place as much as I do.”

“I think I might be getting there,” Kaldur promises, and Victor’s face lights up.

“Booyah! That’s what I’m talking about, hornets for life!”

“Okaaay,” Conner interrupts, getting Kaldur by the upper arm. “Thanks for the party, Victor.”

“Anytime, Kent! Drag you and your girl to our Christmas shit, yeah? And you too, Curry, I swear to God--”

“Goodnight, Vic,” Conner says, trying not to laugh, and then maneuvers him and Kaldur out of the house, M’gann not far behind.

She’s looking at Kal with a funny smile, and loops her arm through his without hesitation. “So, that was fun!”

She makes a face at Conner, who laughs, and then obediently loops his arm through Kaldur’s other one as well. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Fun’s the word I would use.”

“I can walk,” Kaldur says, frowning.

“Oh, we know.”

“This is just the only time you’ll ever let us get away with this.”

Kaldur opens his mouth to argue, but winds up keeping it shut. They’re not wrong.

M’gann and Conner get him through the zeta-tube in one piece--though it feels much worse with alcohol in your system, Kaldur learns. The Cave’s mostly dark, thank goodness, which means Zatanna’s already in bed and whoever else is staying the night is asleep as well, presumably.

They finally release his arms and exchange their goodbyes--M’gann kisses him on the cheek and says, “I’m proud of you, Kaldur. And of Calvin Curry. It’s nice seeing you like this.”

He squints at her. “Under the influence?”

“Relaxed,” she half-snorts. “I know that wasn’t easy for you but you look like you actually enjoyed it.”

“I did,” Kaldur says, blinking, surprised by himself.

“I can tell,” she smirks.

He’s still functioning a bit slow, but Kaldur connects the dots after a pause. “Wait, is that a joke because I am drunk--”

“Not to interrupt, but I think you’ve got visitor, Kal,” Conner says, pointing to the couch.

Where Roy is perched, arms crossed, and trying to hide a smile.

Kaldur had nearly forgotten about texting him, which had seemed so brilliant at the time, but now that Roy’s sitting here he can’t really make any correct sounding words.

“Goodnight,” Conner says, voice dangerously close to teasing, and then the two disappear before Kaldur can read it into it.

Back to Roy. Right. Kaldur just prays he won’t embarrass himself.

“I did not think you would actually come.”

Roy has his arms folded over his chest, and he untangles them to wave a hand in the air, as if brushing Kaldur’s words away. “No, it’s actually good timing. I’ve decided to join your team. Like, actually join. I was gonna surprise you guys tomorrow, but no harm done in spending the night.”

Kaldur, remembering morning training, groans. “I have made a grave mistake.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure even Batman’s shown up to work with a hangover. It’s happened to the best of us,” Roy smirks.

Kaldur makes his way towards the couch, maybe a hair too fast and feels his balance suffer for it, and before he knows what’s truly happened, Roy has an arm around his lower back, steadying him, and the other around his shoulders. He is close, Kaldur’s brain supplies unhelpfully. Just...close.

“I am okay,” Kaldur insists.

“Course you are.”

Several moments pass, and Roy doesn’t let him go. And, well, if they’re going to stand around like this--Kaldur shifts, his weight leans into Roy, and he allows his head to drop, ever so slightly, onto Roy’s shoulder. It’s barely anything, and so much all at the same time.

Roy’s shoulder starts to shake. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Shut up,” Kaldur snaps.

“Oh my god, this is amazing. If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve asked, man.”

Kaldur scoffs and turns his head, letting Roy’s shoulder cover most of his face.

“Wait, wait,” Roy wheezes, “don’t hide, lemme look at you. I gotta see Zatanna’s charm...thing at work.”

He allows Roy to pull him away, take a once over.

“The team said I was, as M’gann put it, ‘ridiculously handsome.’”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Roy mumbles. The tips of his ears are flushed pink. “Is it the necklace?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly Kaldur feels warm fingers on the back of his neck; Roy lifts the string up and over, and though Kaldur feels no change, he knows he now looks like himself. He’s not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.

“Personally, I’ve always been a fan of the gills, fishsticks,” Roy smirks as he slips the charm into Kaldur’s pocket.

“I will not stand for the revival of that terrible nickname.”

“Would you sit for it?”

Kaldur makes to object again, but Roy adds, “It’ll be more comfortable for you that way, cuddle monster.”

So Kaldur sits.

Roy cracks a smile again, but doesn’t laugh, this time simply gets an arm around Kaldur and squeezes. “As fun as this is, you really have to sleep soon. And drink some water. And brush your teeth, damn, did they give you fucking moonshine?”

He immediately goes to check his breath, but Roy knocks his hands back down. “Kidding, Kal.”

“Oh.”

“Oh my god,” Roy says again, and then Kaldur is pressed closer against him and the two lean back on the couch. It is, as Roy had said, very much a cuddling position. Kaldur belatedly realizes he doesn’t have any idea what to do with his hands.

“So….we need to talk, Kaldur.”

“I do not like those words when you say them.”

“No, shut up, I’m allowed to be dramatic too. Now’s obviously not a good time, but once you’re sober we really need to...I just need to tell you something. And we need to figure some stuff out.”

“Okay,” Kaldur concedes. “Stay here a second longer, though. This is...nice.”

Roy, for once, does not object.

The alcohol had made him drowsy, but it also burns through his system very quickly. Kaldur wakes up sluggish, but no headache, thank goodness. But he can tell it’s still early--much earlier than he would’ve liked to wake up--and he’s still pressed into Roy’s side.

For a moment, he waits, struggling to determine the best course of action to take in the situation. Roy’s arm is around his shoulders loosely, comfortably, as if he could hold Kaldur to him forever. And if Kaldur weren’t so positively panicked, he may have let it happen.

Instead, he attempts to lift himself up as gingerly as possible. Maybe he can escape this unscathed. Maybe he can retreat to his room, attend training and pretend this had never happened, even though his heart hurts at the very thought. This isn’t anything like his situation with Tula--he would never deny that he loved her, or even that he’d been in love with her, and the heartbreak he’d felt at being rejected was entirely real. But the way his heart breaks right now is from his own self-imposed distance, and the further he pulls himself away from Roy, the worse it gets.

Kaldur has spent a long while denying himself of the things he wants most, and perhaps that is what causes him to freeze completely against Roy’s chest.

He huffs, and to his chagrin, feels Roy’s chest rumble with a resounding chuckle. He can’t help that he digs his fingers into the fabric of Roy’s shirt as he pulls himself up enough to see the redhead’s face.

Roy is smiling, albeit sleepily. It is the softest Kaldur has ever seen his face. He rests his hand on Kaldur’s head, rubbing his short curls, and for second the look between them is pure warmth, uninterrupted and much, much deeper than anything Kaldur ever expected. There’s a certain tenderness Roy allows himself, having just woken up, and he focuses it completely on Kaldur. .

Just like that, the moment ends; realizing where is, Roy jerks into alertness, pulling his hand away from Kaldur’s hair and instead using it to rub at his own neck, eyes downcast in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.

Kaldur is not proud of the small gasp that escapes him when Roy takes his hand away. He lifts a hand as if to reach out to him and pull him back, quietly calling his name at the same time.

“Roy--”

“We need to talk--”

They laugh, a bit awkwardly, and then Roy gestures at him. “You first.”

Not to say he will ever be truly ready for this, but this as good a moment as any to confess and for once in his damned life, stop torturing himself. “I...There is--”

Now that he is here, and it has been so long of picturing a similar moment, Kaldur doesn’t actually know what to say. This is not like speaking to his king, or his team. It’s like talking to Roy, and his typical candidness is why it feels so hard to be open right now. He’s never needed to right words to speak to Roy before, but this feels different and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

“Quit thinking so much,” Roy says, gaze gone softer than usual, but not to the extent it had been when he’d first woken up.

“I have been told overthinking is one of my worst qualities,” Kaldur says, mouth cotton-dry. Part of him thinks this would be easier if he weren’t still resting on Roy’s chest and looking into his eyes in a moony manner, so he pulls himself into a proper sitting position and steadily ignores how much is instantly misses the embrace.

“So try not overthinking. Just talk to me.”

Nodding, Kaldur grimaces. His resolve is already built, but his body has a hard time catching up to his brain. Nonetheless, he pretends like the very breath hasn’t been sucked out of his lungs and steels himself. “The thing is, Roy, that I have feelings for you...and have felt this way for a while, now. Even when I harbored feelings for Tula. I do not think how I felt towards her was ingenuine, but it was...blown out of proportion,” he admits sheepishly. “I did not know how to tell you, or if I even wanted to tell you.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because, Roy, people do not typically react well when their best friend suddenly expresses romantic interest.”

He winces, because he shouldn’t have been so curt, but Roy laughs, for some reason. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I didn’t say anything either.”

That takes a moment to process. “What?”

It’s Roy’s turn to look like a wrung piece of cloth. He’s pink around the ears and he explains, “You were heartbroken, for one. And then the mole thing happened--and the school thing happened, and you had your team, and your work cut out for you, and I guess I forgot how to open my mouth.”

“I--I do not--” Kaldur shakes his head. “Is this why you wanted me to move in with you?”

“What, so I could pine up close?” he scoffs. “I offered because you are my best friend, and you were clearly hurting, and believe it or not, sometimes people want to do things for you because they want you to be happy. I wanted you to move in with me so you wouldn’t be so damn lonely all the time. Aquaman’s the one who said he had a better idea.”

Kaldur will decide later how he feels about the king’s meddling--for now, he feels a bit dizzy from how the emotions are running through his head at mock speed. “I would’ve said yes.”

“I know! Which is why I gotta tell you that I’m-- the whole being into your best friend thing is...hard. Not in a bad way, just in a, I don’t know.” He runs a hand over his hair, not quite making eye contact. “It makes everything so complicated.”

“Yes, complicated,” Kaldur echoes faintly. “I am all too aware of what you mean.”

“I never wanted us to be an ‘it’s complicated’ situation, Kal. Half the reason I wanted to talk to you is so I could finally be fucking honest with you.”

Kaldur’s heart is racing as he swallows hard. “I am sorry I did not say anything sooner.”

“Shut the whole hell up. Why are you apologizing? When the hell did I complain about your timing? If anything, I’m mad at myself, not you.”

“But I still--”

“Still nothing, Kal,” Roy says plaintively, and then, in one seamless, fluid motion, leans forward to kiss him.

Kaldur wastes no time; he brings his hands up to pull Roy closer, sighing through his nose, and the relief that settles in bones nearly brings tears to his eyes. He has everything he wants, right here on this couch, lips pressed against his. This is absolutely it, as far as he’s concerned. Roy’s returned feelings could keep him going for the next two weeks, sleep be damned.

Realizing that he’s finally attained the happiness he’s spent so long denying himself of, Kaldur smiles, and does not, for one second, regret a single thing.

#yjbigbang #yj big bang #young justice #kaldur #roy harper #kalroy #fic

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