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wandering-child-rp · 3 years

Note

For the mini fic: what about number 7 things you said while driving for E/C 💖💖

“Thanks for the lift. You didn’t have to. I could have gotten the bus.” Christine forced a smile onto her nervous face as Erik gripped the steering wheel a little harder. It was painful for him but he didn’t like the idea of Christine alone on public transport late at night.

The lights of the highway would bathe the saloon car into bright light every so often and gave them both some shadows to hide in. Christine put the lead in her stomach down to nerves.

“I don’t mind driving you. I know you’d do the same for me if I needed a favour.”

“Except I don’t have a car and I cannot drive.” Christine laughed, it was a one-sided friendship. It was strange really. He didn’t seem to have many friends and it was always Christine chasing him. Unless it was after a lesson because then Erik always had a fantastic dinner for her, a great bottle of wine and he was good company. There had been a while when Christine had developed a crush on him but it was never reciprocated. She’d given him a thousand opportunities and lingering a little longer than needed at the door waiting for a kiss that never came.

Her hands stretched over her thighs with a huff of air.

“Nervous?” Erik asked but desperately he didn’t want to hear Christine pour out her feelings about her new boyfriend. He hated the constant buzzing of her phone when they sat together or the way she’d smile and laugh at whatever was on that stupid screen.

“Yeah... a little. I wish he could have come back instead of me flying out to him.” Erik’s large hand landed onto Christine’s with a comforting squeeze.

“I know. It’s sad your missing the season opener.” In his heart of hearts, he wanted Christine to be sat next to him in the box. He wanted to twist the playbill in his hands over and over trying to pluck up the courage to slide his hand into hers. Exactly like it was now. His hazel eyes went wide and he whipped away the warmth all too suddenly leaving Christine confused again and feeling like an imposition.

It would have been nice to go with Erik. He was a gentleman truly. Yes, he was a little older than her but he was sweet and respectful. Meg kept saying it was just a crush on an older man who had that mysterious thing but Christine wasn’t so sure. She laughed at his clever jokes and dumb ones and could listen for hours to him play or dissect a film scene by scene. He lent her books that he thought she needed to read and empowered her beyond belief. Only when she needed it though did he interfere.

</i>

“Your favourite book is ‘Pride and prejudice? Did Mr Darcy like Elizabeth more because she was outspoken and her own woman?” Christine only nodded. “Then stop pandering to these idiots. Yes, take their direction but not when it cuts you down. If it doesn’t stop I’ll bloody tell them.”

“They’re bossy; not romantic though.” She said trying to lighten the atmosphere and stop feeling like such a silly little girl. Erik only raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue trying to keep his attention solely on the tv in front of them. “No one has ever declared their undying love for me.”

“Maybe if you followed the advice.” </i>

Erik remembered that night. The air hung thick as Christine ran her finger around the rim of her glass and the silence rang. He knew he loved her then. It was sudden and all at once; like drowning. He fought it but couldn’t swim to the surface again. It was fine when it was just lessons and direction but then they met up. She didn’t look at the mask but at Erik’s eye. He held his temper and the time it was ragged, she simply laid her hand on his shoulder and then it took all his power not to declare his feelings. Erik wasn’t stupid; she was young, beautiful and smart. Out of his league. Then, she suddenly had a boyfriend on the scene after a connection with an old friend. It was dreadful to watch them. Erik was waiting at the stage door with flowers but they ended up in the trash can when he realised he’d been beaten to the punch.

The pair came to the airport all too quickly. Christine methodically checked off her list for the hundredth time.

“Passport? Yes. Money? Yes. Ticket? Yes. Phone? Yes. Makeup bag? Yep. So, I’m all set.” Christine looked beautiful in her thick sweater, the mass of curls blow dried out by the hairstylist this morning and her body bouncing nervous energy as she smiled widely at Erik with the harsh light reflecting off his mask. “Vienna, here I come! City of opera dreams and I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Erik knew she wouldn’t come back. She had nothing in Paris anymore and her father was back in Sweden. He knew the allure of a new city and a new start but he’d miss her too much to admit. She was tense and clearly something was distracting her, as always, she just blurted it out after only a stern look from her mentor.

“He’s nice, right? He’s not texted much but now a driver is going to pick me up? That’s okay, isn’t it?” Erik wouldn’t dream of it. He would even let her take public transport alone and insisted she stayed in his guest room when he caved and shared a bottle of wine with her.

“Yes.” He replied monosyllabically before adding some care when he saw Christine's face drop a little. “Let me know when you get to his house at least. Goodbye, angel.”

‘Angel’ Christine melted just like when he’d coined the term back for her. She had not known his name when the first note had come or the loud shout across the stage from a fast-moving figure. Erik had told her to start an octave higher and, it had worked perfectly, she had hit the last note despite not knowing. Jokingly, she’d referred to him since as her ‘Angel of music’. It had become truthful as her broken heart had begun to mend itself.

“I can still call you, can’t I?” Erik noted she was picking at the handle of her bag and delaying for time. Nodding, Erik was about to splurge out everything but as he opened his mouth, some jackass behind him started to honk for the drop off space.

“Of course. Good luck with the audition. I’ll come to see you perform, I’m sure.”

He watched her walk away with the backpack that was his before, handbag and battered suitcase decorated with a floral print. It wasn’t medically possible but he was quite sure he could physically feel his heartbreaking. The tears clouded his vision so Erik gave up trying and pulled in for a drive-through coffee he’d normally baulk at. Red and white lights flashed overhead as planes carrying people off to their dreams, vacations and loved ones. The pain came in another crashing wave as he saw the coffee Christine got flash on the menu board; double-shot caramel latte. How was it possible for a coffee to cause a thousand stabs of ice to a heart. Erik reconciled himself to just wait out the hour and a half to watch her plane take off into the night sky. Then he’d go home and drink his body weight in liquor.

The whole plane groaned as the captain announced the delay. They’d sat on the tarmac for half an hour but it felt so much longer for someone as nervous as she was. Christine swore under her breath as she wrestled the backpack from the compartment. Why wasn’t Erik here? He never had to stand on his tiptoes to reach anything.

1 Voice Note from ‘Angel of Music 🎶 (ERIK DESTLER). 20 minutes ago. Christine held the phone to her ear as she jostled her way through disgruntled people and his velvet tones spilled into her ears.

‘So, I’m just at Starbucks and I can’t not say this anymore. I’m so sorry to do this, Christine, and like this. Look, just don’t listen past this but let me do it. We can pretend it never happened. I really want you to be happy and I don’t care if that’s not with me but... fuck... I don’t even know why I’m doing this but... here goes. I love you. A lot. Always have and always will. You can’t blame me because look at you and look at me. I know you won’t feel the same but I care for you so much, Christine. My wretched heart will always belong to you. The one who saw through the bullshit. Don’t think nothing or no one is missing you in Paris because I will be. Don’t dwell on it though. Go be happy... If you want to come home or something goes wrong, I’ll buy your ticket home and be waiting to collect you. Anytime, any day, just call me. You can always call me. No questions asked.’ There was a noise of a steering wheel being slapped and Erik squeezing his nose and clearing his throat before a new note started. ‘Anyway, just call me if you need and, best of luck. I know you’ll be perfect and don’t take any shit from anyone. I’ll get over all of this and I’m sorry. Unless you didn’t listen to that message in which case, erm, send me a postcard kid.’

Christine felt like the world had fallen out from under her and anything she thought was true wasn’t anymore. Throwing her handbag onto the seat, she paced around and listened to the message again. Surely she’d misheard him.

Erik perched himself on the wing of his car. His third cup of coffee in one hand a cigarette in the other as he blew smoke into the sky and watched a plane take off. Her flight was seven minutes late but he saw the green tail knew it was her flight as the flight app hadn’t updated with the last-minute delay.

“Fucking hell, Erik...” he mumbled to himself and threw the butt of the cigarette away after only taking three drags. “Stupid bastard...”

Never before had he felt so deflated but with freedom now. It was out into the world regardless of his regrets or lack of. The words where just like the smoke; impossible to catch or recall in the night sky. It was what it was, Erik thought as he sat back in the driver's seat and drummed the leather wheel defeated. He sat there spinning his phone on his thigh whilst the radio played the weather forecast monotonously. He had muted Christine and unmuted her twice just in case she needed him suddenly yet he hadn’t looked to see if she heard the message before boarding. The timing was meant to be that she’d already have shut off her phone before getting on the plane. It was nearly an hour ago since he’d practically bled the words out of his mouth and tonight, he’d go home and get very drunk before sleeping in tomorrow and he’d remain drunk until the opening night of the opera in four days. Then, he’d force himself back together and to face the world.

“Erik?” That voice. His head whipped around quickly and pulled a muscle. “My- my flight got delayed.”

His face visibly dropped but Christine held up her phone with the screen illuminating the picture of the artwork in Erik’s corridor that she adored. It was a perfect metaphor. Even when it wasn’t about him, Erik was never far from her thoughts.

“I got your message.” The young woman was nervous and simply flying on instinct as the moments turned into seconds and she was closing the gap between them and then her body hit his and their lips met in a breathless kiss full of fire and longing. Christine’s smile was large and her eyes crinkled when Erik looked shocked and confused. Slowly, his long arms wrapped around her waist and one knee shook weakly. She was here, in his arms and smiling at the thought of him. “I wish you’d told me before.”

“I didn’t want to cloud our friendship.”

“Friendship? Erik, it was never just a friendship with us. It doesn’t take me five minutes to unlock my door and say goodbye in the car and I wanted you. I thought you could see that-“

In response, his lips met hers again as one palm cradled her cheek. The mask was unforgiving but Christine knew what was underneath already from coming over early months ago. He’d freaked out and was embarrassed but she handled it without a moment of thought.

“Are you staying?” Erik whispered with a voice dripping with dark honey and his nose rubbed against hers as Christine cuddled him close in the chilly night with her arms around his neck.

Several hours later and Erik was kissing Christine’s nude shoulder as he cuddled behind her still unable to sleep despite their activities. Christine hummed in happily nuzzled softly in a bed that smelt of his cologne. She couldn’t stop thanking delayed flights and voice notes of deep thoughts in cars. She could have missed out on her love so easily but as Erik’s chest pressed against her back in his bed, Christine knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

@sloanedestler

#is 2k a mini fic?#I also drafted a totally #different idea for this which I might post if anyone cares #modern day au erik #Erik x Christine #ask box

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fiveisnumber1 · 4 years

Text

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader Side Story

Word Count: 3898

Warnings: None

Main Story Part Links:

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11

_________________________

“Lost In The Past” Side Story - The Missing Five Years

January 6th, 2014

You were nervous this morning. Today would be your first day at your new school. It had been about a month and a half since you arrived in the future and all of the people you were about to attend school with were kids technically younger than you. You had knowledge of times when they didn't even exist and you worried about saying something out of date and being the odd one out. You were already the new kid so you were at a disadvantage to start with. As you sat at the kitchen table for breakfast you went over your notes of what was popular during this period. You looked at top songs, popular bands, different media platforms, current fashion trends, things called memes, and anything else so you could fit in.

"Here's your breakfast! Are you excited for your first day of school?" Grace asks

"Kind of. I've only ever been to private school so going to a public school will be different." You explain "I just hope I can fit in."

"I'm sure you will! You're a wonderful person and anyone would be lucky to know you." Grace replies

Taking a break from your notes you eat some of the breakfast that Grace had made for you. Two eggs and bacon in the shape of a smile. As you finished you looked at the time and saw that you needed to head out and get to school. Grabbing your backpack you say,

"Bye Grace, I'll see you later."

"Have a good first day!" She calls out

You make your way upstairs and outside the front gates when you see a familiar face in front of you leaning on a car.

"Diego? What are you doing here?" You ask

"You thought I wasn't going to see you off on your first day of school?" He asks

"I just didn't expect it." You reply

"Well, here I am so hop in," Diego says getting in the driver's side of the car

You walk around to the other side and get in the front passenger seat. You and Diego make the drive over to your school and when you arrive he asks,

"You ready?"

"Yeah, I guess so." You reply unsure

"Hey look at me. You are smart and brave and more powerful than any of those kids. You're going to do great and if anyone bothers you" He says taking out a knife "you let me know and I will handle them."

"Don't kill them!" You exclaim

"I won't, I'll just rough them up a bit." He replies avoiding your gaze

"Okay, I'm going now." You say getting out of the car

Diego gets out of the car and says,

"Wait one second!"

"What?" You ask turning around

"Stand there so I can take a picture," He requests

"Oh my god, are you serious?" you complain

"Aw c'mon, please?" He asks

"Fine."

You put on a smile and Diego pulls out his phone to take a couple of pictures of you standing in front of your new school.

"Eudora is going to love these, I've been telling her all about you." He mentions looking at his phone

Once he puts his phone away he comes over to you and gives you a big hug before getting back in his car. Through his window, he tells you,

"Have a good day."

And with that, he drives off and you were on your own at this new school. Walking into the entrance you make your way to the front office and tell them who you are. The secretary, an older woman, then gets up from her seat and guides you to what would be your homeroom class. Since you were coming in the middle of the year the teacher introduces you to the rest of the students. To your surprise, they aren't rude or exclusionary and during your free period and lunch, you get to know a few of them. Using your knowledge of popular things that you studied you're able to get by talking about stuff outside your interests. The kids who talk to you seem pretty nice and you think you'll be able to become friends with them. Even though you were making friends you couldn't help but think of Five. None of these kids would ever compare to him no matter how much you got to know them but you at least needed to give them a chance. And so throughout your first day and the days after you were able to build a group of people you'd want to be around during school hours.

July 17th, 2015

"Again." Reginald commands

All-day with no breaks, you had been practicing to develop your powers. Ever since school finished Reginald had been pushing you harder to develop your powers. Day in and day out you would train. There were physical exercises, self-defense, power development, mental sharpness tests. It was excruciatingly long and you never stopped. At this moment you were practicing to detect slight disturbances before you could see them. Reginald had finished training you to do your powers without concentration being necessary. You were able to control your own molecules and that of other things without thinking. You could transport yourself and other objects with ease. You even improved to the point of being able to see the types of molecules around you and use them to create other things beyond, fire, water, and smoke. Now he wanted you to use that ability to see the molecules around you and make it instinctual to detect disturbances in them. So he had you geared up and blindfolded and had Pogo shoot paintballs at you. You didn't understand how blindfolding you was going to help you see the molecules since you didn't have your eyes but you went along with it anyway. You had been the same exercise for about a month and a half at this point and with each day you were starting to get better. When you first started you got hit with paintballs consistently but now you were able to feel the disturbances in the molecules around you and were able to dodge the paintballs. As much as you hated the way Reginald went about things you were impressed with the progress you were making. You kept going at this until you heard Grace call out,

"(Y/N), you need to get ready for your piano recital."

With that, you took your blindfold off and asked to be excused. Reginald let you go and you rushed off to get ready for your performance tonight. You had been practicing your piano and when you learned that there were auditions to represent the school in a summer music showcase you took it upon yourself to make sure you got the singular spot for your school. Every moment you had free you spent practicing and now came the day you were waiting for. You put on a nice white shirt and a black skirt before heading downstairs. You looked at the time on the clock and saw that if you didn't leave soon you would be late for roll call.

"Oh no, where's my sheet music?" You said frantically as you just remembered it

"Don't worry, I have it right here." Grace calls handing you the folder with your music

"Okay thank you! I better get going." You say quickly "Bye mom!"

And with that, you had rushed out the door and started making your way to the performance hall not too far from where you lived. You weren't there to see it but Grace became overwhelmed with feeling as no one had called her mom in a while. She was never going to make you call her that but for you to accept her as another mother to you meant the world. She stood in the foyer for a second staring at the door you had just left from taking in the moment. After a bit, she went off to her bench near all the paintings to start a new cross stitch hoping you would continue to call her that when you came back home.

You had made it to the hall just in time and when it came for your turn to play you made your way out on stage. Sitting right there in the front row was Diego. With a big smile on his face, he used his phone to take pictures as you made your way to the piano in the center of the stage. You gave him a small wave before sitting down to play. Placing your music on the stand you took a deep breath. You knew what you were doing, you had practiced for weeks. With the crowd dead silent, you started to play. You played your heart out, putting every ounce of emotion and effort into your performance. This was your moment and you made every second of it count. When you had finished the crowd gave you an overwhelming amount of applause. You stood up from the piano bench to take a bow and as you did you saw Diego standing up and cheering you on. You could tell from the way that he was looking at the people around him and point towards the stage that he was bragging about you, tell them all how you were his talented little sister. You took one more bow before walking off and when the showcase finished Diego walked you home.

"You did amazing! I'm so proud!" He exclaims

"Thanks. I'm proud of me too."

It was a short walk and before you knew it you were back home.

"I'll see you this weekend to train and box alright?" He says

"Alright Eggo, see you then."

Diego walks off as you make your way inside the house. When you get inside you go and find Grace calling out,

"Mom! Mom! I did so well tonight!"

Grace stops her cross-stitch. Turning her attention to you she says,

"I knew you would sweetie! Now, why don't we go get you ready for bed."

"Okay!" You reply running off

As you run off, a wide smile on Grace's face as she knew you calling her mom would most likely be a constant from now on.

May 14th, 2016

"Listen if you're nervous or worried about getting hurt then you don't have to do this. You can back out right now and I can take you back home." Diego says concerned

"Diego I think you're the worried one." You comment

Tonight was your first real boxing match. After two years of practicing with Diego, you felt that you were ready to get out there and fight. There were no other girls to fight you so you were going against a guy from a rival boxing club. You were excited to step in the ring and take this dude on but even after the years of training you've done Diego was still worried about your safety.

"Okay maybe, but I don't want to see you get hurt out there." He replies

"We've been training for this moment. I'm ready and if I take a few punches so be it. I'm not a helpless little princess." You explain

"But you are a little princess...to me. If you got hurt I would kill everyone and then myself for not doing a good job keeping you from harm." Diego explains back

"It worries me that I know you mean that sincerely," you reply

You were about to say more when you hear the announcer call you and your opponent to the ring. You nod at Diego and make your way over there. Entering the ring the announcer introduces you and the other guy to the crowd. The crowd cheers and the announcer gives to go-ahead to start. The two of you circle the ring for a bit before the guy throws a punch at you. You're able to dodge it and punch him right in the gut. When he doubles over you throw a couple of jabs at his head hoping to throw him off his rhythm. As he comes back up the guy you were fighting nails a hard blow on your jaw. You stumble back a bit but regain your balance and head back. The two of you go blow for blow, for the next couple of rounds landing solid hits on each other. The guy stumbles towards you and you know this could be it using all the strength you have you swing towards his jaw and hit him straight on. The guy you were fighting falls to the ground and is out cold. The ref comes and does the countdown and when it is evident that the guy was knocked out completely the ref raises your hand and declares you the winner. It took you a second to realize what you had done but when you do you exclaim,

"Holy shit I won!"

Diego and some of the other guys from your club lif you up into the air cheering for your victory. This win would be one to remember for a long time.

October 1st, 2016

Sunlight shined through your curtains as the sounds of the city outside you started to wake you. Slowly you sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. When your eyes came into focus you took a look at the calendar you hung beside your bed. The date of it read October 1st, 2016. Today was your birthday. You got up from your bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

"Happy sixteenth birthday!" Grace exclaims "I made you some pancakes because it's like the cake of breakfast."

"Thank you, mom." You reply sitting down

She had put some strawberries as eyes and some whipped cream as a smile. Birthdays had always been a bit calmer ever since you arrived almost three years ago but you were grateful for what you did receive. Each birthday you spent the morning with Grace and the afternoon and evening Diego would take you to do something special. You looked forward to what he had in store this year.

"I almost forgot, I have a present for you!" Grace says handing you a box

You undo the ribbon on the box and take the lid off. Pulling the item out you see that it is a beautiful knee-length dress.

"This is wonderful, how did you get it?." You ask still in awe of the gift

"Well, I was going through some of Allison's old clothes and saw a couple of items that I thought I could sew together to make a more modern dress for you. I hope you like it."

"I love it Mom, thank you!" You say gently putting it back in the box.

Finishing your breakfast you give Grace a hug before taking the box and heading upstairs. You were absolutely going to wear this dress today. Putting it on you look at yourself in the mirror for a while. You really looked nice in the dress. You spent some time in your room writing in the diary that you had to tell Five about your day so far. When you finished writing for now you looked at the time and headed out to the curb. You knew Diego would be picking you up soon. You waited outside for a bit before seeing his car drive up.

"Happy birthday princess, hop in!" He says from his car window

You slide into the passenger seat of the car and Diego starts to drive away from the house.

"You look nice," He says

"Thanks, Mom made it for me." You reply "What are we doing today."

"Ah well that is a surprise, you'll see." He says

The two of you drive around for a while and do a couple of activities. He takes you to the movies and a nice bakery for lunch. A little less exciting than prior years but you were happy nonetheless. The two of you pull into a parking lot and Diego says,

"I ordered some food from this venue, can you come in and help me carry it out?"

"Sure!"

The two of you head inside but when Diego opens the doors to the venue there stood all your friends from school. Looking around you see decorations from wall to wall and a DJ in the corner. You turn to Diego and ask,

"What is all this?"

"You think I wasn't going to give the little princess a royal sweet sixteen party?" He replies with a smile "Now put this on and have a blast."

Diego hands you a tiara and you enter the venue to meet all of your friends. You were so surprised and extremely grateful for what he had done. He must've saved up a bunch of money form his janitor and boxing jobs to afford this. You and your friends ate, danced, and celebrated your big day all thanks to your older brother, Diego.

November 22nd, 2017

Today was exactly four years since you arrived in the future back in 2013 and started living in the Hargreeves house. Over those four years, you had done many things. You had gone to school, made some friends, became a stellar piano player, had a good boxing record, developed your powers further than you thought you ever could but there was one thing you still hadn't done. You still hadn't gone into Five's old room. Every day for the past four years you had passed it multiple times but you dared not to enter as you feared it would hurt you too much. And as you walked back to your room from dinner you passed the room once more but this time instead of just heading to your room you stopped in the hall. Turning around you stared at the door. Slowly you took steps towards it. Now as you stood in front of it you wondered why you were so compelled to do this, nevertheless, you slowly reached your hand out to the doorknob. Grabbing it you hesitantly turn it and hear the click of the door opening. You gently push the door open and turn on the light switch. And there it was, his room. You stepped into the room and looked around. Everything was just as it was the last time you saw it all those years ago. Desk in the same spot, closet still full of uniforms, the bed was perfectly made. The room was untouched. You remembered all the times you had in here. This is where you told him you had powers, this is where you two hung out, this is where you danced with him that one night. This wasn't just a room, this was where you two became best friends. As you walk further into the room you see his old domino mask laying on his desk. Gently, you blow the dust off of it. You always thought the mask looked good on him. Walking over to his bed you lay down on it. Holding the mask close to your chest, you close your eyes. You missed Five more than anything in the world. You wished day in and day out that he would come back. But he hadn't as of yet and you wondered if he ever would. You kept hoping though. You hoped that wherever he was he missed you just as much as you missed him and you hoped that one day he would come back to you. So as you laid there on his bed holding the domino mask you remembered all the good times with your best friend. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a bit more at peace.

March 17th, 2019

Your heart was racing with excitement as the night you had been looking forward to finally arrived. All school year you had been excitedly waiting for prom night and now here you were getting ready to go. You had spent all day getting ready with the help of Grace. You had been sitting in the bathroom for who knows how long as she did your hair and makeup to make sure that you looked perfect.

"What do you think sweetie?" She said getting you up to look in the bathroom mirror

"Oh my gosh, I look beautiful Mom!" You exclaim

"You were already beautiful sweetie, you just have some makeup on now." Grace replies

You quickly turn to her and give her a big hug.

"Thank you, Mom!"

"It's nothing, now you need to go put your dress on." Grace states

You nod to her and head to your room. You go to your closet and grab your prom dress from it. It had been sitting in there in its protective bag for months. Finally, the day had arrived for you to wear it. Taking the dress out of the bag you carefully slip it on. When you finally get the zipper of the dress up you put on your shoes and jewelry before you hear Grace call,

"(Y/N), come down here!"

Grabbing your purse and prom ticket you head out of your room and towards the foyer stairs. As you make your way down them you see Grace and Diego waiting at the bottom.

"Oh, honey you look beautiful." Grace compliments

"You look like a real-life princess," Diego adds

You can see tears forming in Diego's eyes. He is such an emotional person even if he wants to put out to the world that he is tough and strong.

"Diego, are you crying?" You ask

"No, it's just dust in my eyes." He replies wiping his face

"But I dusted yesterday," Grace says

"It's just d-d-dust..." he stutters "Here let me take some pictures."

"Diego you take way too many pictures." You comment

"Just keep quiet and take the pictures," He says

You roll your eyes before posing on the stairs and smiling so that he can take pictures of you in your dress. After he takes solo shots of you he takes some of you with Grace and then has Grace take some of you with him. He had to show her how to work the camera on his phone though before that could happen. After that, he was able to set up the timer on his phone and take a picture of the three of you together.

"Now that's a nice photo. Looks like I got a new lock screen." He says "Oh one more thing. I know you don't have a date for the prom, which is good because you're too young to date, but anyway I got you this."

Diego then pulls out a pretty corsage for you to wear to the prom and you put it on.

"Aww thank you Eggo," You say giving him a hug

From outside you can hear a car honking.

"Oh, that must be my friends. I'll be back later Mom and I'll see you soon Eggo."

"Have fun!" Grace replies

"Be safe." Diego states

Rushing out the front door you hop in the limo that you rented with your friends and head over to the venue hosting your prom. As the limo drives and you talk to your friends you feel like good things are going to happen this year and you couldn't wait to see what comes next.

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hale-13 · 3 years

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Enterobacter

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 2 - Food Poisoning

Being Spider-Man sometimes means that Peter has to eat on the job and eating in the job means eating a lot of fast food. Some of his favorite stops are new and local food trucks since most of them give him free food for the obvious influx of business he brings to them. And Peter loves Thai so much he just HAS to try the new truck that opened.

Words: 2339, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Before the Bite, Peter was a staunch and vehement hater of warm weather. He spent every spring and summer feeling overheated and sweaty and gross and May and Ben would always joke that he ran hot which, Peter supposed, wasn’t completely untrue. He had always spent most of his falls and winters sleeping with the window by his bed cracked to let in the cool air and under a light blanket.

So November through about March was great for him. The rest of the year however? Awful. Miserable. Abhorrent. Just… any terrible adjective you could think of would work as a descriptor. The city heat was always so overbearing that their tired little AC unit couldn’t keep up and would, inevitably, give up and the Parker family would spend half the summer every summer without the blessed cool air flowing through their apartment. And the humidity! Peter felt like he was trying to breath and walk through soup – the heat wouldn’t be nearly as bad without the humidity.

One might think that, with the loss of his ability to thermoregulate well, the warm weather might be easier for him post-Bite but all it did was give Peter new things to worry about. For example: getting heat stroke for doing nothing more than sitting still in his bedroom and doing homework on a hot day.

Yeah. Peter really hated the warm weather.

Which explains why he wakes up on a Thursday in mid-May already angry and irritated and sweating through the ratty tank top and boxers he wore to bed about three minutes before his alarm for school is set to go off.

“Seriously,” he groans, rolling over onto his back and draping one forearm over his eyes in the perfect picture of teenage angst. His stomach twinges a little as he does and he bites back a grimace – probably shouldn’t have tried that new Thai truck while patrolling last night he thought. It didn’t help that he got it super spicy either, he supposed, but the delicious taste would more than make up for the irritability of his bowels later.

His phone started blaring a bright tone and Peter groaned louder, flopping out a hand blindly to snatch his the device up from where it was charging on his nightstand and shutting off the alarm, dropping the phone into the mess of sheets he had bunched up into a corner while he slept. He gave himself another couple seconds for his pity party before rolling off the bed and grabbing the towel he had draped over the end of his bed frame – intent on taking a cool shower to bring his body temperature back down to a reasonable level and wash off the sweat he could already feel drying over him.

“May?” Peter called as he walked out of his room. The apartment was almost eerily quiet for what should be May’s day off and Peter furrowed his brows in confusion – May normally attempted to cook breakfast on Thursday mornings before giving up and making them both bowls of cereal. Towel over his shoulder, Peter wandered into the kitchen and frowned at the fluorescent pink sticky note on the counter next to a fresh box of Lucky Charms.

Got called in to cover ER – twelve hour swing, home after ten.

Eat your breakfast!

Love You!

Peter crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage. He was looking forward to grabbing ice cream after school with May at the new shop that had popped up the month previous but it looks like they needed a rain check on that one. His stomach bubbled again and Peter wrapped his arm across his abdomen in discomfort. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to miss out on ice cream today.

The cool shower was refreshing but Peter, somehow, felt worse after. His stomach was straight up cramping now as he pulled on a light pair of shorts and a t-shirt, forgoing his usual layers and just hoping that the bagginess of the shirt would cover up his muscles. He frowned and swallowed down the sour, burning taste of stomach acid in his throat. He didn’t usually have a problem with acid reflux but maybe the spicy food was messing him up? Choosing to ignore it for now, Peter gathered up his books and homework to shove into his backpack before leaving the apartment to walk to school.

The subway that morning was absolutely vile. The smell that he could already barely handle on a good day was worse since it was simmering in the heat and Peter’s sensitive senses didn’t appreciate it. He had to choke down a couple of gags, which was not normal and hadn’t really happened to him before despite the offensive odor. He was used to the smell, it came with using public transportation in one of the busiest cities in the United States. The only good thing that came out of the nauseous feeling was the extra leg room when the other passengers sidled away from him with disgusted looks on their faces.

His relief (and that of the other passengers) was palpable when he was able to stagger off the car and onto the platform outside Midtown, though the temperature didn’t improve much since there wasn’t a good breeze that morning. Moving quickly, Peter made his way across the field and driveway to enter the blessedly cool school building.

“Dude,” Ned said, eyebrows scrunching, as he met Peter a couple minutes later by his locker. “You look like shit.”

“It’s hot,” Peter told him a little defensively, slamming his locker door just a touch too hard. Ned didn’t look impressed.

“No like, you’re really pale and a little green. Are you sick?” Ned asked, squinting his eyes at Peter.

Peter frowned, all he felt was a little overheated. Well, yeah, his stomach was still bubbling and cramping but that was just from the spicy food. He was fine. It was just the heat.

“I’m fine,” Peter protested, brushing past Ned to make his way towards their home room class. He wobbled just a little, lightheaded.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Ned questioned as he steadied his friend, still looking concerned, pushing them out of the foot traffic of the hallway and back up against the cool metal of the locker bank.

Peter’s mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed down the acid again before shaking his head ‘no’. There was no way he could stomach breakfast that morning – it would be like asking for disaster.

“I think you should call May to come get you,” Ned advised, still gripping Peter’s elbow and frowning deeper when Peter shook his head again in protest.

“She had to pick up a shift in the ER today so she’ll have her phone off and, anyway, I’m fine Ned!” Peter shook his arm a little, trying to dislodge Ned’s hand and not succeeding.

Ned bit his lip but released Peter’s arm. “You could call Mr. Stark?”

“For what?” Peter asked, frustrated. “I’m fine, I’m just hot and have a little stomach ache from eating at that new Thai truck.”

“Wait, you mean the one that normally parks off fifth? The green and purple one?” Ned asked and Peter nodded in confirmation. “Bro do you not look at the news? They had to shut it down late last night because some of their food was contaminated with E. Coli.”

Peter’s stomach twisted and grumbled ominously and his hands dropped to grip at the loose shirt covering his abdomen. “Oh,” he said slowly before abruptly turning to race through the near-empty hallway toward the closest bathroom. He barely made it into a stall, not bothering to close it, before he vomited up everything he felt like he may have eaten in the past week. He vaguely heard the door creak open as Ned entered but paid it no heed, doing his best to stay standing and hunched over the toilet so he wouldn’t have to touch it or the disgusting floor.

A few minutes and a round of dry heaving later, Peter didn’t care about how disgusting the floor might be and was just thankful to slide down the wall of the stall to rest, panting and dizzy, on the tile as he tried to keep anything that might be left in his stomach where it belonged.

“Peter?” Ned asked, peaking around the door to survey him. “Are you okay to walk? I’m going to take you to the nurse.” Peter moaned and leaned over to vomit another round. “I’ll take that as a no,” Ned sighed, his own face a little pale from trying to keep from being nauseous himself.

It took at least ten minutes after round two before Peter thought he’d be able to stand without falling over but Ned still insisted that Peter sling his arm over his friend’s shoulder so he could have support for the short walk to the nurse’s office.

“Oh Peter,” Ms. Shelly, the nurse, said sympathetically as she took in his pale face and trembling limbs. “You look awful honey.”

“He has food poisoning,” Ned told her, depositing Peter into one of the closest chairs and shoving one of the emesis bags on the table into his hand just in case he needed it. Peter gulped and nodded his head shortly in thanks, gripping the bag so tight he thought he might tear it.

“You can go on back to class Ned, I’ll make sure he gets home.” Ms. Shelly made a noise of pity and took his temperature before clucking her tongue in disapproval.

“Feel better buddy,” Ned told Peter with a pat on the shoulder before hastily making it out of the room so he could catch the tail-end of his home room, accepting the excuse note that Ms. Shelly passed him.

“Do you have a preference on which contact I call honey?” Ms. Shelly asked from where she was crouched down to eye-level in front of him and Peter let out a groan and squeezed his eyes shut in misery. May was at work which meant his only option was…

“Mr. Stark please,” he muttered, eyes downcast. Ms. Shelly raised a brow in obvious disbelief before she schooled her features. Peter was just glad she didn’t question him like most of his classmates and some of his teachers had taken to doing once the rumor about his internship had spread through the majority of the school.

“Let me just pull your chart and make the call okay? There’s a cot through the door if you want to lay down,” she gestured to the open door across from him before making her way to her office to pull up his digital chart.

“Thanks,” Peter said, seriously considering how nice it would be to just lie down again. This pleasant thought was interrupted by his stomach clenching again and he hung his head over the emesis bag, dry heaving but not managing to get anything up which was almost worse. He let out a little whine that he was glad Ms. Shelly wasn’t around to hear and stumbled into the single person bathroom in her office, sinking down onto the floor and gagging.

A light knock on the door sounded a few minutes later and Ms. Shelly’s soft voice called, “Peter? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he called back as loud as he dared before swallowing compulsively. It did nothing for the bile climbing up his esophagus and he leaned back over to vomit again.

“Just call me if you need anything sweetie. Your emergency contact will be here in about twenty minutes.” Peter let out a grunt of assent and let his eyes slip closed as he leaned back against the wall. He must have dozed off at some point because he woke up to the sound of the door creaking open and a low whistle.

“Looking a little rough around the edges kiddo,” Tony said, head leaned around the door to peer into the room. Peter, feeling tired and sick and embarrassed, let out a groan and felt his face heat up.

“This is the worst thing that has happened in my life. Ever.” Tony snorted as he entered the bathroom fully and crouched down on knees that popped and clicked to squat in front of Peter.

Peter closed his eyes when Tony reached forward to rest his cool hand on Peter’s forehead and hum. “Running a little warm too. The nurse said food poisoning?”

“Ate Thai that had E.Coli,” Peter said and then gagged at the thought, hanging his head back over the toilet to spit out bile. Tony moved his hand to rub up and down his back and made an empathetic noise.

“Just get it out buddy. Brucie’s waiting for us back at the tower with some anti-nausea meds for you and some fluids to help hydrate you.” Peter moaned and gagged again but nothing came up.

“Think I’m done,” he said a second later, wiping the tears of effort out of the corners of his eyes and letting Tony pull him to his shaky feet. The room spun briefly but he was able to keep most of his balance by leaning heavily on Tony’s arm. The walk to the car after signing out with the stunned secretary was a little blurry but soon he was ensconced in the darkness of the Roll’s that Happy favored driving lately.

Ignoring everything around him, Peter let his face fall to the cool, supple leather and he let out a sigh of contentment. He heard a chuckle before the emesis bag was pushed back into his slack grip with instructions to “Use that if you need to Bambino,” but Peter thought he might be done for a while.

Finally cool and mostly comfortable, Peter fell into a light doze, looking forward to spending the rest of his day cuddled up in a blanket under an AC vent in the penthouse sleeping and watching bad movies with his mentor.

#summer of whump 2021 #Prompt: Food Poisoning #spider man #irondad #summerofwhump #summerofwhump2

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hurricanery · 3 years

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What’s a Soulmate? Pt. 2

Hi! This is part two of my previous fic. Amelink AU- ‘What if Amelia and Link had met at a different time in their lives?’ This part is basically the same timeline, from a different point of view. Thanks so much for reading the last part and for sending feedback! ALSO THIS IS LONGGG. sorry

tw: drug use

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Amelia Shepherd is 5 years old when she discovers that nothing is ever promised to you. By definition, she learns uncertainty. That your world can be ripped from right underneath you. The feeling is always there.

Age 5 is a blur for Amelia. She remembers everyone doting on her. Her mom and her sisters and her brother. But, that might not be the right word. She’d learn later that the feeling she was experiencing was suffocating. That’s the word she’d been looking for. The people in her life that were once so blissfully unaware, suddenly so overcareful around her.

By age 7 the suffocating feeling had slowed. Maybe her family had moved on from their need to keep tabs on her. Or maybe they’d genuinely grown tired of her. Either way, the feeling was replaced with a new one. She’d love to fantasize. Especially at night. She’d lay in bed and pretend she wasn’t herself. Staring up above her, she’d imagine the ceiling opening up. And then the roof would be flying off. And she would go with it. Not as a person, but a part of the wind and the clouds. She’d float up to the sky and be with her Dad.

Sometimes, she’d think so hard about this, that there would no longer be feeling associated with it. It would just be reality. And it was numb. When this happened, Amelia would tiptoe out of bed and down the hall toward Derek’s room. Derek was always really good at making her realize that the roof was still there. She was made to realize a lot of things at such a young age. She’d look at her older sister, Nancy, who carried herself in such a stoic way, and realize that pain was better when it was hidden. She’d look at Derek, who flinched at almost every loud noise and sudden movement, and realize that she never wanted to look vulnerable. She’d watch discreetly as her mother sat alone at the kitchen table, spacing out as she sipped her coffee, completely jaded by everything she’d been through in the last couple years. Her parents were soulmates. High school sweethearts. Completely each others’ person. She’d look at her mother now and realize that there was no such thing as soulmates.

_______

Amelia is 9 years old when she starts to feel again.

The moving trucks roll slowly down the street and the Shepherd children watch from their front lawn as they disappear. The front door of what used to be their home swings open and their mother comes barreling out, juggling two more boxes.

“Derek!” She beckons. “Come and grab one of these.”

Derek quickly runs to help his mother.

“And the rest of you- don’t just stand there! There’s a few more things inside!”

They load up the minivan and suddenly there’s not much left to do but to say their goodbyes to an empty house. Say their goodbyes to a home and all the memories associated with it. It was time to start new.

_______

The car ride to their new neighborhood is long and boring and Amelia sits all the way in the back, crammed alongside the last of the moving boxes like she’s an object being moved herself. That’s how she’s starting to feel, at least. Like an inanimate object being transported against her will. Her 3 older sisters occupy the seats in front of her, sharing headphones and giggling amongst themselves every few minutes. Derek, who’s seated passenger side next to their mother, turns around with searching eyes. He catches Amelia's gaze through the cracks between headrests and smiles at her in an assuring manner. He doesn’t turn away until Amelia reluctantly smiles back.

The minivan finally pulls into a quiet suburban neighborhood and stops in the driveway of their new home. Before the car is even put into park, Derek and Nancy are jumping out and running toward the house. Lizzie and Kathleen follow quickly after them while Amelia remains trapped in the backseat. She sighs. All she has to do is climb over the middle seat but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it.

“Come on, Amy,” she hears her mother’s impatient voice from outside of the car. The tone forces her out of her frozen position and she finally starts climbing over the seat. When her feet hit the pavement, she looks up at the house. She shifts her gaze to her mother incredulously and before Amelia can even say anything, her mother is grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia sees movement across the street. As her mother pulls her toward the house, Amelia turns her head fully to meet the movement. She watches as a boy, about her age, drops his baseball mitt onto the grass and chases after his father. He’s laughing as his dad teases him about wanting macaroni and cheese again for dinner. The boy follows his dad inside and the whole time Amelia is listening to the sound of his voice as he argues playfully. Amelia finds herself smiling at the interaction. She doesn’t know why, but something about the boy’s playful energy sparks something in her. She feels excited, she thinks, at the idea of this boy being her friend.

_______

A couple of hours later, and the idea is becoming closer to reality for Amelia. When 9 year-old Atticus Lincoln stumbles through an awkward introduction on the sidewalk in front of her new home, Amelia cannot refrain from laughing. At first, his presence had startled her. The sidewalk chalk had slipped out of her palm and she’d almost fallen backwards from her crouched position. But, something about his energy had instantly made her feel calm and at ease. Amelia is grinning from ear to ear after watching this boy struggle with his words. After a little back and forth and a lot more laughter, Amelia decides she doesn’t want him to leave. She definitely likes his company. She wants him to stay.

“Anyway, Atticus, do you wanna play a game?”

_______

Amelia is 16 years old when she discovers that high school is her worst nightmare.

She walks up late today. Like really late. More so than usual. She must have missed her alarm. Or, forgotten to set it in the first place. That was highly likely.

Amelia curses herself as she jumps out of bed. All she has time for this morning is a quick teeth brushing. She glances in the mirror briefly, throwing a sweatshirt over what she’d worn to bed and grabbing her converse sneakers from the corner of her room. She slips on her backpack before running down the stairs and out the front door.

No sign of Link. She frowns. She must really be testing his patience. They usually walk to school together every morning. And he’d usually wait for her, even if she was running late. This morning is different though.

Amelia turns the corner, prepared to be alone with her own thoughts for the entire duration of the walk to school. But then she sees him, about a block ahead of her.

“Link!” She yells, desperate. “Wait for me, asshole!”

She sees him slow to a halt. He turns around up ahead of her. Amelia quickens her pace until she’s approaching him.

“Sorry, hi,” she greets him, kind of breathless. He looks her up and down, taking in the sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. Amelia tries not to get nervous under his gaze. But then he smiles.

“Is it pajama day?”

She rolls her eyes at him and shoves his shoulder gently.

“I had literally 3 minutes to get ready this morning.”

“Clearly,” he laughs again. He focuses on her face again, looking into her eyes, and Amelia feels his gaze burning into her. “You look-”

“Tired?” she interrupts him. “Don’t say it.”

“I was going to say hungover.”

Amelia looks away from him, ahead of them as they walk. She tries desperately to not have any sort of reaction to his words.

“Amelia, it’s a weekday,” Link speaks again, concerned.

She stays silent, subconsciously raising her hand to bite at the corner of her thumb nail. He finally looks away from her face and Amelia sighs internally, wishing they could talk about anything else.

“Did you study for the physics test?” Link speaks up again.

“Is that today?” Amelia mumbles.

“Yes…”

“I’ll study at lunch. I’ll be fine.” And she’s not even worried. She knows she’ll do fine. She always does. She feels an awkwardness between them and she hates it. Link usually makes her feel completely at ease. This morning, Amelia can tell she’s made him upset. She nudges his side with her elbow. When he finally makes eye contact, she smirks at him.

“Link, I’m fine,” she whines playfully. “Don’t worry.”

He breaks into a smile. Something that happens naturally whenever Amelia smirks like that. Her heart warms at the sight, watching as his eyes crinkle slightly from the expression. Link has the best smile.

“I know you’re fine. I just think you’ll be less fine when I crush you in this physics test.” He jokes.

“In your dreams!” Amelia laughs, feeling completely relaxed by their banter.

_______

Amelia doesn’t study at lunchtime. Jake, who’s a senior, and someone Amelia always feels the need to impress, invites her to the parking lot and she instantly agrees. Being invited to the parking lot is basically a right of passage and everyone knows it. It’s not just a parking lot. It’s a hang out spot. The place you escape to for a smoke sesh or to find out where all the parties are that weekend. She knows being invited to the parking lot basically means Jake and all his senior friends will smoke her out. So, Amelia isn’t studying at lunch. She’s currently sitting on the open trunk of one of Jake’s friend’s trucks, being passed a joint.

She takes it, placing it to her lips, closing her eyes and inhaling as deeply as she can. She keeps it in for as long as she can before exhaling slowly. She opens her eyes again when she hears Jake laughing next to her.

“Damnnn, Shepherd. Not even a cough? Impressive.”

“She’s not like other girls,” one of Jake’s friends, Eric, adds, laughing with him.

Amelia rolls her eyes, and instead of passing the joint, she takes another hit. She’s impressing them and she likes the feeling. She reluctantly passes it off after that.

“Shep, you coming out tonight?”

Amelia just stares, it’s a Friday night but she’s not sure of what’s going on.

“Big party at Tyler’s place, everyone’s going.”

“Oh, right.” Amelia plays along. “Yeah I’m thinkin about it.”

_______

When the lunch bell rings, signaling class is about to start back up, Amelia only panics slightly. Not only is she late for the physics test, but she’s also completely in the wrong mindset. She feels it as she walks to the science lab, the paranoia sets in as she approaches the door. She hates walking in late. And she hates that she’s too high right now.

She tries to not spark any suspicion as she enters the room, but the dead quiet of the room only makes her more anxious. Everyone has already started taking their tests. She eyes her open seat at the back of the class, and moves as swiftly as possible. She feels a set of eyes on her the entire time and once she’s taken her seat, she reluctantly meets Link’s gaze from across the room.

Amelia flinches at the disappointment on his face.

Link turns back to his test and Amelia glues her eyes to her empty desk before another face interrupts her panic. She looks up just as Mr. Thompson, their physics teacher, places a test down in front of her. Amelia only meets his suspicious stare for a second before glancing down at the paper anxiously. She pulls a pencil out of her bag and quickly writes her name in the top right corner of the page.

She gives herself only a minute to breathe before she reads the first question. Once she does start reading, panic swells in her chest again. She can’t do this right now. She can’t be here taking this test. She doesn’t know what comes over her, but the sudden need to get out of this classroom completely consumes her. She’s not subtle when she stands up, pushing away from the desk hastily. The chair makes a harsh noise as it slides back against the floor and Amelia quickly grabs her backpack, leaving the test unfinished on her desk. Heads turn in her direction as she makes her way to the door. She faintly hears Mr. Thompson calling after her but chooses to ignore it.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way outside. The cool September air instantly calms her as she walks. And she keeps walking. Physics is her last class of the day and there’s nothing stopping her from just walking all the way home at this point.

_______

She hides out in her bedroom until her Mother calls her down for dinner a couple of hours later. It’s officially the weekend and that means some of the older Shepherd siblings are home from college. Amelia sits at the table and tries to avoid Nancy and Kathleen’s stares. Their mother, Carolyn, clears her throat.

“Girls stop glaring and pass Amelia the salad,” she says sternly.

Kathleen smirks as she starts passing food across the table. “Well, aren’t you going to say something, Mom?”

“Kathleen, not now.”

Amelia’s plate remains empty. The energy is off in the dining room and she doesn’t really feel like eating.

“You can’t keep letting her get away with this,” Kathleen speaks up again, laughing sarcastically and looking pointedly at her youngest sister.

“What’s your deal?” Amelia finally bites back. “I’ve seen you all of three minutes and you’re already mad at me for-?”

“Girls!” Carolyn chimes in. She glances harshly at each of them. She looks back at Amelia before she speaks again. “Amelia...the school called just before you came down-”

“I answered!” Kathleen interrupts with a snicker, Nancy smirking along with her. Carolyn shakes her head at them in warning before she continues.

“Amelia, apparently your science teacher reported you walked out on your test today…?” It ends up sounding like a question.

Amelia stares down at her empty plate.

“She’s probably on pills again. Did you ever get a lock for the medicine cabinet?” Nancy’s harsh words cause Amelia’s head to snap up. She glares at her oldest sister. And for the second time today, she feels the need to escape. She can’t be here right now. In a familiar movement, she pushes harshly away from the table and moves toward the front door.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way across the street. Suddenly she’s pounding on wood until a front door is swinging open and Link’s worried eyes meet hers. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she registers the haggard breathing sound is coming from her.

“Amelia?! What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I can’t-” her panicked breathing cuts the sentence short but suddenly strong arms are around her, pulling her inside the house.

Link shifts his grips to her shoulders and guides her toward the stairs, up to his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind them and Link is guiding her again toward the bed, sitting down next to her.

Amelia curses herself, embarrassed by her total lack of control right now. She doesn’t remember letting herself begin to cry. But now that it’s started, she can’t make it stop.

“Amelia,” Link’s steady voice pulls her slightly from her thoughts. He looks at her assuringly. “Breathe. You need to breathe.”

In a gesture, Link makes his own breathing pattern more obvious, in his attempt to get Amelia to match him. She tries. She really tries. She looks into his eyes and lets him hold her gaze, anchoring her, like he’s tossing her a rope and trying to pull her back in.

She needs more though, something more forceful, and then she’s reaching for him. In the most platonic way, she grabs under his elbows, forcing his arms to engulf her small body. Desperate for the pressure of his strong hold.

She waits for him to catch on, and she sighs in relief when he squeezes her tight. The sensation of it is almost like a thunder jacket for a dog.

Amelia is just beginning to calm down when Link’s grip loosens slightly. She looks up at him bewildered. But he just looks calm. He pulls away even more but grabs her hand, standing up from the bed.

“Here, Amelia. Lay down on the floor, this will help,” he soothes, pulling her up from the bed.

She still hasn’t gained any control over her crying, but she listens to his instructions, laying flat on her back on the plush carpeting of his bedroom. She glances up at him and he smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling. Then he’s lowering himself over her.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” his voice is soothing. He even chuckles a bit at his actions. How crazy this must look. “My body weight will be like a weighted blanket…”

He’s twice her size but he lays fully on top of her, mimicking her positioning. He relaxes, and Amelia feels the weight of it completely. And to her surprise, it’s extremely calming. The pressure envelopes her nerves and the effects are almost instant. Her breathing begins to slow as they lay in complete silence, both staring up at the ceiling.

“Like a….gravity blanket,” Amelia’s voice finally breaks the silence.

Link chuckles. And now Amelia is smiling wide.

They lay like that for a few more minutes. Amelia is so relaxed and the room is comfortably quiet.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Amelia whispers, laughing under her breath.

Link rolls off of her, laying next to her instead. He smiles at her, reaching between them and squeezing her hand. Amelia’s chest tightens at the gesture. And then he lets go.

“You okay?” Link asks.

“I am.”

They both resume the position of staring up at the ceiling. Link speaks again.

“You going to that party tonight?”

Amelia turns her head, looking at him in shock.

“Absolutely not,” she answers. Then she laughs again, adding “I’m staying here with you.”

_______

Amelia is 18 years old when she realizes that soulmates can be found in friendships.

She loves college right away. She loves being away from home and away from her family. She finds a good friend group and gets along well with the people she lives with. The only thing missing from her close to perfect equation, is her best friend, Link.

Her new college friends tease her relentlessly for her dependency on her best friend from home. The way she facetimes Link almost on a nightly basis, or the way she drops everything she’s doing the moment he texts her.

“That your boyfriend from home?” Amelia’s roommate jokes as her phone chimes with a text message.

“More like her soulmate,” her other roommate adds.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “He’s not my soulmate,” she laughs. “But...yes.”

The suspicious glances from her roommates don’t go unnoticed by Amelia. “I’m actually hanging out with Stephen tonight,” Amelia announces proudly.

“Ugh, he’s no good for you.”

“Yeah, definitely not soulmate vibes from Stephen.”

Amelia rolls her eyes again, standing up to get ready to see Stephen.

_______

Amelia likes Stephen. He’s tall and charming with dark hair and bright green eyes. He makes her laugh and provides the sense of calmness that Amelia seems to seek in those she surrounds herself with.

He’s not a distraction. That’s for sure. Amelia is even starting to think she loves him by the end of the first semester. She feels something every time she looks at him. His wide smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Stephen feels familiar. And makes Amelia feel nostalgic.

And Amelia crushes any thought she has of Stephen compared to Link. To her best friend.

She doesn’t question what it means that every time she arrives back at her dorm after a night spent with Stephen, the first thing she wants to do is call Link.

She smiles to herself as she crosses the threshold to her room, instantly pulling her phone out and relaxing onto her bed. She swells with excitement as she glances at her calendar. It’s almost holiday break and for some reason she misses home.

_______

Amelia is 22 years old when she discovers what it feels like to finally open up.

She hasn’t seen Link in almost a full year, although she still considers him to be her best friend.

It’s finally thanksgiving and both Amelia and Link have returned home from their separate colleges for the weekend. She’s completely shocked when she first sees him. Link looks the same but also different. His hair is longer than Amelia remembers. And he seems taller...and more muscular, too. Like he’d suddenly started working out a bunch.

Link clears his throat, drawing her attention to his face. “Hi, Amelia,” he smiles. And the eye contact almost makes her breath catch in her throat. Had his eyes always been that color?

Link pulls her into a hug suddenly, pulling her away from her thoughts, and Amelia instantly relaxes into the familiar embrace.

_______

That night they end up at the local bar. Thanksgiving eve being the busiest bar night of the year, and basically a premature high school reunion for the entire town. Amelia really didn’t want to go. But, Link was interested in seeing a few buddies from school, and Amelia wanted to go wherever Link wanted to go.

They attempt to stay together for the entirety of the night, but it’s a little hard when there’s constant interruptions by vaguely familiar high school acquaintances.

Amelia sits at the bar and watches Link from across the room as he chats enthusiastically with his high school friends. She didn’t have a huge friend group in high school. She always had friends a couple grades above her, the ones she’d ditch school with. The ones she’d hang out in the parking lot with during lunch. And there was always Link. But that was it.

She catches his eye from where he’s standing across the crowded room and he smiles at her briefly. A moment later he motions toward the door. She frowns slightly before pushing through the crowd to join him.

“You’re leaving without me? What kind of date are you?” She smirks at him as she shrugs on her jacket.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date, Amelia.” Link responds, playing along. “But yes, I am leaving. Early morning and all that.”

“Well let me walk you home.” She continues, voice laced with irony.

“Let’s go home,” he agrees.

_______

They end up back at Link’s house, sitting at the kitchen table. There’s a lot of catching up, and reminiscing. And conversation about the future. Amelia feels a sense of warmness she can’t quite place. Link makes her feel warm. And she can’t stop smiling.

They talk about everything. Learn everything new about each other.

Amelia learns everything about Link’s college experiences. She tries to stay neutral as Link talks about the girls he has dated. She smiles through his drunken hookup stories. She learns that Link wants to pursue medical school, and that news brings her more excitement than she’d anticipated.

Amelia tells Link she wants to follow in her older siblings’ footsteps. She wants to become a surgeon. And when Link promises that he’d always known she’d make way for herself in the medical field, she feels warm again.

Amelia tells him about the relationships she’s been through. And the one she’s currently in.

“You’ll get to meet him this weekend, Link. He’s driving in tomorrow. For dinner.”

Amelia isn’t certain, but she thinks Link’s face falls at that.

“How long have you two been together?” He asks her.

“We met my freshman year. We’ve been dating on and off since then.” Amelia mutters, suddenly the warmth is gone. This conversation feels cold

“On and off?” Link questions.

Amelia clears her throat, feeling vulnerable. “Well, yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve broken up more than once. And gotten back together a couple of times…It’s um…” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s been, um, I mean I wouldn’t say a roller coaster, but…”

Amelia panics as she watches Link study her face. The analytical features remind Amelia of plenty of past conversations. Plenty of situations she’d gotten herself into and then called on Link.

“Amelia, are you happy?”

The question makes her heart sink and she can’t place why. Maybe it’s denial. Maybe she’s been dishonest with herself. She zones out as she stares ahead of herself, eyes glued to the space between them. Eyes glued to the table. She doesn’t like cold and vulnerable. She wants some of the warmth back. It feels like her body is on autopilot when she stands up on wobbly feet and walks around to Link’s side of the table. She can’t bring herself to answer him, or his daunting question. She doesn’t know why she does it, but suddenly she finds herself crawling her way into Link’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the chair and arms wrapping around his neck.

And then her own words surprise her, too.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Probably since I was 9, if I’m being honest.” And she laughs at her own vulnerability.

She lays her head on his chest, hiding her face away from him. And she can feel Link wrap his arms around her waist. She feels him place a comforting kiss to the top of her head.

“And I, of course, was head over heels for you, but you already knew that. Everyone did.” He whispers, and Amelia is surprised at this response. She didn’t know that.

She laughs into him, and then she finally lifts her head, looking up at him.

“Let’s crash on the couch, yeah?” He offers. “Like old times?”

_______

It’s weird for Amelia the next night at dinner. To be snuggled into the embrace of another man. Not even 24 hours after she’d fallen asleep in Link’s arms.

His words replay in her head on a loop. The way he’d whispered ‘I’ve always loved you, Ames. Always will’ before they drifted off.

And the way that she’d responded. ‘I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend.’

Amelia is confused, and feels vulnerable, again.

_______

Amelia is 25 years old when she discovers that she's probably not destined to be a mother.

When she tells her fiancé of a year, James, that she’s pregnant, she doesn’t know how to feel. It’s overwhelming, that’s for sure. And she feels extremely anxious. She hopes it’s anxious in an excited way, and not for any other reason.

She ignores the uncertainty. She’d always wanted to be a mother, right? This is how everything was supposed to be. Anxiety and all.

_______

Amelia feels numb, three months later, when she has a miscarriage. She can’t quite process what she is feeling.

And it takes a toll on their relationship.

James is shocked. And grows more and more depressed over it.

Amelia takes her anger out on James, and he does the same with her.

They decide to take a break, and James moves out of their apartment. Amelia needs some time for herself. And she can’t quite place if what she’s feeling is relief. But she feels something. Because she knows that this is probably how it was meant to be. Everything happens for a reason.

_______

Amelia is 28 years old when Seattle becomes her true home.

She’s graduated medical school and landed her dream internship at one of the country’s top hospitals.

It’s her first day of work and she hops on the subway train downtown. The train is kind of crowded, and she automatically makes her way to a less dense standing spot. She settles in her spot, mentally preparing herself for a busy day.

Amelia counts down as the train makes it’s stops. Knowing that the next stop is hers, she moves her way closer to the door. It opens and she steps out onto the platform, glancing at her watch, deciding whether or not she has time to stop for coffee.

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by another body bumping right into her.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbles, but she cuts herself off when she recognizes who has just run into her.

“Long time no see, Shepherd.” Link is standing in front of her, smiling widely.

And she can’t help how her face instantly lights up. She laughs, bewildered. Not quite believing what she’s seeing. She finds herself pulling him into the tightest of hugs, laughing breathlessly into his ear.

“What the hell, Link? What the hell are you doing here?” She lets go of him and they’re making eye contact, smiles wide across both their faces. They both seem to need to catch their breath.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He jokes.

Amelia shakes from her daze. “I..I live here now. I start a new job today. Like now, actually.”

Her shock and bewilderment doesn’t seem to die down whatsoever when she learns that Link has landed the same internship as her.

_______

Amelia is 29 years old when she discovers that her 7-year-old self was wrong. Soulmates do exist, and she knows by definition.

She knows what a soulmate is when Link takes her out on their first real date and he doesn’t even make a move, because there’s no need to rush things.

She knows what a soulmate is when she watches Link become the version of himself that is a brilliant, confident, orthopedic surgeon fellow.

She knows what a soulmate is when they finally sleep together for the first time. And it feels like it has been building up over a lifetime. The way they take it slow, reveling in each moment with each other because it didn’t quite feel real.

After their first successful surgery together, they’d gone out with some fellow surgeons, and Amelia knew what she was doing when she asked him back to her place for the night.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is that night. When she looks him in the eye and reaches for the hem of his shirt in question. She feels completely confident in his presence and especially in his arms. Like she was always meant to be there. This is her best friend, and her soulmate. And she’s completely awestruck by how good this moment is. How it can’t compare to anyone or anything else.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is the next morning. When she stirs from her slumber slightly, as familiar fingers dance slowly across her bare back.

She rolls over in bed and is met with her favorite pair of eyes. She mumbles to Link ‘let’s make pancakes,’ and she knows what a soulmate is as she watches him move about her kitchen, covered in pancake mix from the brief food fight that had broken out between them.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when they move in together. In a tiny studio apartment in Seattle. And Link lets her decorate it exactly how she wants.

And despite their first fight, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. When Link meets her nieces and nephews, and nonchalantly makes a comment about kids one day, Amelia freezes in panic. And then completely avoids him for three whole days.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when she learns to compromise. Because the two of them cope in different ways. So, when Link has a bad day, she gives him space to bum out, instead of bombarding him to talk through it. Even though she’d want the opposite for herself on her own bad days.

And he’s still her soulmate when they turn 30 and they move into a bigger house in the suburbs. Amelia is excited about each of them having their own office space. Link jokes about ‘room to grow’ and ‘future nurseries.’ Amelia doesn’t say it then, but she warms up at the idea.

When they’re 32, and they’re dancing at their co-worker’s wedding, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. After a particularly hard week at work, Amelia had been taking her frustrations out on Link. And he’d been letting her. He was always so patient. And now as they danced together slowly, Amelia can’t help but rest her head against his chest gratefully. She feels him squeeze her waist gently. She can’t help it when she mumbles ‘Maybe I’ll marry you, someday.’

_______

Amelia is 34 years old when everything falls into place for the rest of her life.

After she’d told Link she was pregnant, they’d both been completely overjoyed. And since then, Amelia couldn’t fight the realization that everything was meant to be this way. Everything had happened for a reason.

She doesn’t hear Link come into the bathroom as she stands brushing her teeth, eyes closed in happy exhaustion as she rests against the sink.

She feels his arms snake around her stomach and her eyes snap open to playfully meet his in the bathroom mirror.

Link squeezes her small bump and Amelia lays her head back into his chest blissfully.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, “before you fall asleep right here brushing your teeth.”

_______

They lay down in bed and assume their favorite position as of recently. Amelia loves it when Link lays behind her, spooning her, arms instinctively and protectively wrapping around her stomach. She settles into his arms and almost immediately begins dozing off.

She feels Link’s breath tickling her neck before she registers his voice.

“Amelia, you’re going to make the best mom to Scout. I can’t wait.” He mumbles, and Amelia smiles sleepily.

“I love you, Ames.” he continues, gently squeezing her bump again. “Always have, always will.”

Amelia is awake just enough to respond “I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend,” before sleep takes her.

Feedback please/let me know if you want me to write more amelink/send prompts!!

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelinkfanfiction #my writing

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chaoticbi-cheesecake · 4 years

Text

Paper Airplanes and Face Masks (Hournite)

Summary: Beth has Rick over for the night and is determined to get him in a face mask.

Warnings: Mild allusions to abusive gardian.

Category: Fluff

Note: this is my first attempt at fanfiction, please leave your thought about it below:)

Training lasted longer than usual that day. By the time it was over, the sun was already saying goodbye and slowly receded to the west. Pat had tried his best to make the obstacles more difficult in an effort to mirror what he believed was to come in the battles ahead.

The new JSA tried their best to work with and without their abilities, all while trying to work together as a team. It was challenging to say the least, not many of them had much experience working with others.

Curly blonde locks stuck to Courtney's face as she asked Yolanda if she needed to be driven home. The other girl thankfully accepted the offer before running off to grab her things.

Pat, hearing he was now driving Yolanda, went to the next girl who had no mode of transportation.

"Do you need a ride?" He asked Beth who faced away from him, her eyes instead on the boy leaning on the entrance of the building.

"Oh, no thank you." she replied sweetly.

"Okay, just make sure to get home safe." the man instructed, making his voice loud enough for the boy to hear him as well.

Rick turned his head to Pat, giving him a single nod before pushing himself off the wall and walking out toward the road.

"Will do Mr. Dugan." Beth replied brightly before briskly walking in the direction of the boy, goggles slung around her neck, the straps of her backpack gripped in broth her hands.

She found him standing still outside of the building, staring at his path home with a scowl.

He wasn't all that fond of going back to his house, knowing who would be there when he arrived, though with the hourglass he would be able to defend himself if need be. He quickly found himself sinking into his own mind, the multitude of reasons why that was a very bad idea taking over his thoughts.

His dark thought process was interrupted by a hand delicately brushing against his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Beth asked in her sweet, yet concerned voice.

Rick nodded curtly and turned his gaze to the ray of sunshine beside him. Beth wore her wide smile and big doe eyes, wearing him down and making him want to tell her everything.

But he didn't, thinking better of it.

"I'm just getting ready to walk home."

"Me too!" she shook her head eagerly.

He nodded once more, awkwardly, in a gesture of understanding.

The two stood in a thick silence, Beth's hands were now shoved deep in her jean pockets as she contemplated opening her mouth again.

Rick began to walk in the direction of his house when Beth let out a quick, "Do you want to come over to my house?"

The boy stilled wondering if Beth had actually offered.

"I mean, you can if you want to. My parents are working tonight, and tomorrow night, and most nights. They've been doing that a lot recently." she laughed in an attempt to hide her sadness.

"It's getting dark, my uncle won't like me out for so long."

He heard the girl shuffle closer.

"You know, if he tries anything, Pat can always take his robot and exchange some...words," she tried. "Or any of us could suit up and do it. Not just for this, just any time you need."

Rick almost laughed, the image of Beth in her costume coming to his door to threaten his uncle, huge goggles and all, entering his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm still not sure that's the best ide-" he stopped himself at the sight of Beth, shoulders slumped, but eyes still bright as ever.

He realized in that moment that she was just like him, lonely and in need of some company.

"Umm...maybe just for tonight." he gave in.

"Yes!" Beth squealed excitedly, hooking her arm through his and turning them in the direction of her house.

As they walked, Beth rattled on about everything from homework to superheroes. Rick had to hold back the smile that threatened to make it's way onto his face at the sound of her enthusiasm.

They made it to Beth's house quite quickly. The girl unlinked their arms and began to rummage through her bag in searched of her keys. Rick wouldn't admit his disappointment at the lack of contact, but he would make note of how he suddenly felt the warmth leave his body when Beth pulled away.

They entered into darkness, no one was home and all the lights were off, Beth haphazardly used her hand to search the wall beside her for the light switch. As she flicked it on, brightness washed over the two. Rick squinted his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light.

"Okay, you can put your stuff here, or you can take it to my room, or just keep it with you. Whatever you want to do." Beth supplied as she began speeding to her kitchen. "Alright, what kind of snacks do you like? We have a bit of everything, sweet, sour, savory. Unless you wanted some dinner, I should have some leftovers from the other day that I could heat up for you." she offered.

"No thanks."

"Are you sure, I have cookies." she called, walking out of the kitchen and holding a clear container filled with some cookies she had caught Rick eyeing the day prior.

This time he couldn't stop his lips from turning upward in a small grin, he nodded his head.

Beth pumped her fist in the air before grabbing Rick's arm and dragging him to her room. She plopped down on her bed opening the container and taking a bite out of the sweet.

"So what do you want to do first?" she questioned, extending the box for Rick to take from. "We can do homework, watch a movie, Chuck has this great karaoke setting-" she gasped. " Ooh, we can do face masks. I was going to do them with Court and Yolanda next weekend but there's no time like the present."

"No."

"What why?"

"Cause I don't want you putting anything on my face."

"But it'll be fun." she tried.

"Nope. Let's just finish the homework and then you can pick a movie." Rick countered.

" How about we finish the homework and then we do face masks."

"Not happening."

"I can help you," she sang "and Chuck knows all the answers."

"Still no." Rick shook his head calmly.

Beth's shoulders slumped but she soon fixed her posture and shrugged. She grabbed her backpack from the side of her bed. She shuffled through it and pulled out her folder full of assignments. She grasped her geometry packet and began working on it. Rick sat down at the foot of the bed, he too got out the homework and began start on the page.

They worked in mostly silence for half an hour, Beth occasionally looking to Chuck for guidance, earning a long and extremely detailed account of every question and answer she asked about. Rick tried his best to focus on the paper in front of him, but he was just plain disinterested in the numbers, letters, and shapes on the page. He instead opted to scribble down the first answers that came to his mind, accuracy be damned, just wanting to finish as soon as possible.

He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to restore the little energy he had before taking out the assignment to no avail. When he looked back to the work, he was surprised to see a paper airplane made out of a sticky note set on top of his work.

He stared at the small plane in front of him before turning his gaze to Beth who was laying on her bed, appearing to be concentrated on the packet on her bed, tapping her pencil on the comforter as she looked over the page.

Rick moved his eyes back to the paper airplane, gingerly unfolding the wings to see in neat handwriting the words,

Face mask plz:)

He snapped his head to the girl who's face was now hidden behind her folder. She peeked her head out shyly only to see Rick rolling his eyes playfully and once again shaking his head no.

Turning his attention back to his homework, Rick wrote down the solutions to three more problems before an airplane landed on his lap.

He haphazardly opened the paper up to read the words,

Please. It'll be really fun. Please.

Before Rick had the chance to reply with a no, yet another airplane cascaded across his field of vision landing just beside his shoe. He leaned to pick it up and undid the neatly folded paper.

Pretty please with cookies on top?

Rick furrowed his brows and turned his body to face to girl, who was now at the foot of the bed, her chin was resting atop the box of cookies from before. Her big eyes and hopeful smile pleaded with him to reconsider.

He caved.

He let his head fall to his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose. He raised one hand and lifted his index finger.

"Once, we do this once."

Beth's entire face lit up as she squealed "Yay!" dashing off her bed she leaned down to give Rick a quick hug before running to get the supplies from her bathroom.

Rick begrudgingly made his way over to the side of her bed and sat down uncomfortably. But if he was being honest, he would do this a thousand times just to see the overjoyed expression that overtook her features at his compliance.

She returned holding a tube in one hand and a brush in another. Rick guessed to brush would be used to apply the mask.

"Okay, you ready?" she asked, popping open the cap and squeezing out a dollop of the mixture onto the brush.

"Why is it green?" Rick interrogated.

"Because it's matcha." Beth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. At Rick's confused face she explained sweetly, "it's a type of green tea that's really popular to use in face masks."

He nodded cautiously as Beth stepped closer to him. She was directly in front of him as she softly touched the brush to his face. He hissed and pulled back quickly.

"Why is it cold?"

"It's not necessarily that it's cold. It's just that you're hot." Rick's eyebrows shot up. Beth didn't even realize what she had said until he made the gesture. "I didn't mean it like that! Not that you're not, it's just that- ugh, I meant body temperature. The average human body is between 97 and 99 degrees Fahrenheit and this," she held up the face mask tube, "is very much below that temperature." she rambled. "Besides, would you rather this be warm?"

Rick just stayed silent.

Beth gently brushed all around his face, sometimes imploring him to stop scrunching up his face. Rick hated to say it, but it was actually kind of relaxing. There weren't many times where someone tried to take care of him for a change.

"Alrighty, all done." the girl announced, removing the brush from his face and stepping back.

"How long do I have to keep this on for?"

"Until it's completely dry."

"And when is that?"

"Ummm..." Beth searched for an answer. " once it's hard to smile, you should be good to wash it off."

"I don't smile."

"I'm well aware, you can just wait till I take mine off."

She moved over to her mirror and began applying the mask to herself.

"I feel like an idiot." Rick complained.

"You are not, you look super cute!" Beth chided.

"I'm not sure if that's worse."

The boy watched her apply the mask all over her face, he couldn't control the expression of love and adoration that graced his face as he observed her.

He stayed like that for God knows how long until Beth turned to fully face him. He could say with the utmost confidence it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life. Her face was green like his and a wide smile lit up her face.

There was no denying the smitten appearance he held as he gazed at Beth.

He was ripped from his trance when he heard the snap of Beth's phone camera. She smiled cheekily and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Beth." Rick began dangerously. "Don't do it Beth." already knowing she would share the photo.

"Just let me send it to Court and Yolanda." she pleaded.

"No, Beth."

Beth gripped her phone tightly behind her back as her eyes wandered to her open room door. Rick saw the plan forming in her mind and raced to beat her to the door. She ducked under his arm and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Rick knocked on the door frantically, "Come on, Beth. What's the point?"

"The point is you look adorable and that is not something that should be hidden from the world. And by world I mean the team." she called from behind the door.

"Beth Chapel I will turn this hourglass over right now and take this door off it's hinges." he said in an attempt to sound threatening.

"We both know you won't," Beth stated matter of factly.

"Dammit." Rick grit his teeth knowing she was right.

He heard the door unlock behind him, Beth wore a wide grin. He groaned, knowing he was completely incapable of actually being mad at her.

"Was it at least a good picture?" he asked, defeated.

"You tell me," Beth instructed, handing over her phone to the boy before slipping past him and back to her room.

The screen showed a picture of Rick, covered in a green face mask. But that's not what really got him. Plastered on his face clear as day was a lovestruck expression that could rival that of Beth's favorite rom-coms.

He sighed, accepting his fate. There would for sure be hell to pay the next day. He was certain Courtney and Yolanda would never let him live it down. But at the moment he wasn't to bothered.

"Is it okay if I put on 'The Breakfast Club'?" He heard from the other room. He lowered the phone and walked back to the room, prepared to spend the rest of the night with the adorable being that was Beth Chapel.

The End ♡

Again I will reiterate, this is my first time posting a fanfic so I would really appreciate some positive feedback, or if there was something you saw that you didn't really like please leave it in the comments, politely please. I am but an emotionally fragile egg trying my best. If you want to see more hournite oneshots or headcanons let me know. Thanks

Sincerely, Tessa.

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tackyink · 4 years

Text

Why do I do this to myself, I ask, as I post the next chapter two weeks after the first one, which took four years, thus defeating the entire point of extensive editing and risking a huge tone shift. Then again, I’ve been whining about it so much that it would be odd not to share.

Chapter 1

— — — — — — — —

Chapter 2

The sun pounds down with criminal intent as Alex and her friend run across the terrace of Mrs. Isabel’s monumental house. They are adventurers this time, or maybe pirates. It doesn’t matter. The reflection of the light on the colorful tiles and whitewashed buildings is blinding, and her friend’s blonde hair makes her glow like she’s wearing a crown woven with sunlight. They are wearing matching pendants of stone that she picked for them while she was on a trip.

Laughing, her friend turns to Alex with a toy chest between her hands, but Alex can’t hear the sounds coming from her mouth and her face is a featureless blur that she can’t make sense of. Who’s this person? The stress of not being able to focus on her face makes the image vanish into white, then black, then...

When Alex woke up, she vaguely remembered dreaming about home, so she didn’t give it much thought. She very rarely remembered dreams, and dreams related to the past were the worst because they were filled with people she hadn’t seen in years, so she wasn’t going to make an effort to recall only to feel bad.

Getting up with a lot effort, she remembered she had gone straight to bed as soon as she got home the day before and she needed a shower. She groaned as she undressed and dropped on the nightstand the seastone pendant she usually wore under her clothes. It was a small, useless thing that may have at some point been used as a bullet and repurposed, but it was a gift from a family friend, and she liked how it looked. A good luck charm of sorts that clearly wasn’t doing its job.

The shower seemed to stretch to infinity as she reviewed the events of the previous day and what she needed to do from then on. She wished that had been a dream. If only things were always that easy.

True to word, the pirates had left with the rising sun. Alex didn’t get to see their ship, even though the first thing she did that morning was go to the port to sneak a glance and contemplate the fish-shaped submarine in its entire tacky splendor. She’d always liked watching ships, ever since she was a kid and sat down at the beach or near the shipyard to see them from up close.

The following weeks were a haze of bureaucracy and preparations to leave her post at the library. She booked a ticket for a passenger ship to the city-island of St. Poplar with the intention of catching another ship from there that could sail her to the Sabaody Archipelago. Then she’d need to request permission to cross the Red Line, and once she was there, well, it wasn’t like she was in a big hurry to return home. But if she didn’t enter the New World soon, there was a chance that once the Poneglyph was be discovered and she’d be held up as soon as she set foot on holy land.

Nearly a month and a half had passed by the time she was able to get all her ducks in a row: training her replacement at work, sending letters to friends and family telling them she was moving, as well as shipping a couple of boxes to the Sabaody Archipelago. When that was done, Alex spent the longest three weeks of her life inside that passenger ship, trapped in a vessel wondering where the heck was her life going, but after several stops along the way, in a very early morning, she arrived to Saint Poplar. She had about a month to go until the renovations started and she became officially a fugitive. Probably. The fact that she wouldn’t be able to know if she was overreacting unless shit hit the fan didn’t help her feel secure in any decision she took, but hey, if she was wrong and nothing happened in the end, she could always go back to Duster Town.

The first thing she did upon arrival was consult the ship schedules at the port. Several pages with timetables were tacked to a board with a glass cover. It was better kept than most information boards she had come across, but it was to be expected, since Saint Poplar and the surrounding islands were popular tourist spots.

By the looks of it, she had missed the last direct ship to Marineford by two days, and the next one wasn’t scheduled yet because there was an Aqua Laguna alert. Joy. She had to explain her predicament to a few locals until one of the women working at the port gave her something useful to work with.

“There should still be a liner leaving Water 7 in a few days. They usually wait until the last day so as many people as possible can leave the island before the sea gets too rough.”

Alex took this information as well as one would take a knee to the solar plexus. Another trip meant more money wasted. It was becoming increasingly evident that she’d have to pick up a job somewhere before she was able to cross the Red Line, because safe passage required money. Lots of it. And unless she robbed a bank, she didn’t think she’d be able to get it before the archive renovation started. She had a gun. And she entertained the idea for the entirety of two seconds before coming back to reality.

“Okay,” she said. If nothing else, she’d be able to sightsee. That was an island she had wanted to visit for a long time. “Do you know where can I take a ship to Water 7?”

“There are no ships to Water 7,” the lady replied, amused. “There’s the Sea Train.”

“Oh! I forgot.” It was very much like her to know the Sea Train was a thing and not remember that it had an actual purpose, besides making a city famous. “Is the station far from here, or…?”

“No, it’s…” She looked below the ship schedules in front of them. There was a faded map of the city behind the glass. She pointed one spot, on the opposite side of the city. It was mostly a straight line from where she was if she followed the main streets. “Here. It’s easy to find.”

She had to resist the temptation to pull out of her backpack a fountain pen and draw the map on the back of her hand, since she didn’t trust her memory all that much, and instead she said, “Thank you very much!”

The woman smiled at her, lifted a crate bigger than Alex without breaking a sweat, and went on her merry way. Meanwhile, she spent the following minutes staring intensely at the map to make completely sure that she wasn’t going to take a wrong turn even though there were absolutely no turns to make. Anxiety was a wonderful condition.

By the time she started moving, she was looking at the next hours in a different light. As inconvenient as this detour was, Alex felt more excited than anything else at the idea of riding a Sea Train and going to the city where it originated. She’d seen the pictures, and it was supposed to be all canals that the locals navigated with little boats instead of wheeled vehicles. May as well enjoy the trip as much as she could, right?

Humming as she went, the trek across the St. Poplar brought her through streets of stone lined with tall buildings, some made of that same stone, but most of them in a more polished classical style. The pediments she saw suggested fifteenth century, so not too old. The less ostentatious houses were brick painted in light tones, with planters hanging from balconies that added little splashes of color to the otherwise muted palette and, in the case of those that were more worn out, provided the exciting possibility of said planters falling on a passerby’s head. Better to stay away from some of those cornices, too.

The atmosphere more than made up for the stoning risk, though. The city was as lively as it could be, and she found herself wishing that she had an excuse to remain in it for a little longer, but it was not to be. Come to think of it, wasn’t there a huge carnival going on in San Faldo around those dates? That explained the people walking around in costumes and elaborate masks. If she ever got to go on vacation again, she was making this area of Paradise her priority.

But if an Aqua Laguna was approaching, she needed to be out of its range as soon as possible, or she risked getting stranded in a place highly frequented by government employees where she could be spotted without backup. Moving swiftly was a priority until she could settle down and lay low to see how the situation unfolded.

She took longer to get to her destination than if she hadn’t kept getting distracted with every little thing that caught her attention, but eventually she was greeted by a platform and a white-gray building with a sign that identified it as Spring Station. She looked out to the sea, unable to see anything at first, until she noticed a shadow beneath the water. Railways swayed back and forth with the waves, a feat of engineering that she wouldn’t have believed had the train not been functional for over ten years. It even connected directly with Enies Lobby, so it had to be reliable. The government wouldn’t be using it to routinely transport their own people otherwise.

She walked into the station and headed straight to the timetable next to the ticket window. There were people sitting inside with bags, and many of them in costume. She wished she could spare the money and the time to join in, or at least run her hands over the velvety fabrics and intricate embroidery. She had done her fair share of sewing and the construction and materials of the costumes were seamstress porn.

The train was scheduled for departure in two hours. Better not to wander too far.

❦

There were many people inside Alex’s car, some dressed in regular clothes, some in costume. She would have liked to sit next to the window, but she was stuck in an aisle seat, and though she wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, she lamented having to spend the trip looking at her feet instead of the sea.

The seats were really nice, though. She wondered how luxurious first class had to be, if her butt was already on velvet and her feet on fluffy carpet. That was where the government agents must go, since when they stopped at Enies Lobby, nobody entered her car or the adjacent ones, judging by the lack of noise.

About an hour passed without incident until she noticed a faint smell, like smoke, and soon after, someone spoke through the PA system.

“Dear passengers, we inform you that the Sea Train is going to make an unscheduled stop at Shift Station for maintenance. The new hour of arrival to Water 7 will be 12 PM. We are sorry for the inconvenience. You may leave your seats until it’s time to resume the voyage.”

Varying degrees of protests filled the car, but Alex couldn’t say she minded. The train was starting to get stuffy with so many people, and she sensed an incoming headache from the nonstop chatter of the group across the aisle.

A scarce minute later, the train reduced its speed until it came to a halt, and immediately after, a stewardess appeared to unlock the doors. Alex decided to get up, find out in what kind of place this Shift Station was, and stretch her legs, because the seat may have been velvet, but the cushion under it was long flattened. First class was hoarding the good ones for sure.

The smell of saltwater hit her in the face with the subtlety of a Buster Call. She was very confused at how much water she was seeing until she realized that the station was little more than a platform on each side of the rails, a lighthouse, and a house in the middle of the ocean.

There wasn’t much to see once the first impression wore off, though she could have easily spent hours just watching the hypnotic swaying of the waves. There had always been something drawing her to it. She thought about how terrifying it had to be getting caught there during a storm, and how solid the little house on the platform must have been to still be standing there for a decade. The station master, if there was one, had to have nerves of steel.

Since she had nothing else to do, she stretched and began to pace around the platform, watching the passengers who had also gotten off the train. Not too many, considering the amount of people that were travelling in it, but she had to admit the platform amidst the waves was not for the faint of heart. She was certainly not going to get close to the edge. She saw mostly the same types of people she had been sitting with, but from the first car appeared a group dressed in expensive clothing and another of men in black suits.

She did a double take when she saw a familiar World Government insignia on the lapels of their jackets. Embroidery work was wasted on those people. They were Cipher Pol agents, and while their presence was more than reasonable, they still put her on edge. Best not to get close. How did one try their hardest to not look guilty without looking even guiltier?

Faced with this unsolvable conundrum, she diverted her gaze to look anywhere but at them, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed one of them look in her direction for a moment before going back to their conversation. Slowly and innocently, if steps could be walked in such a way, she ducked into the building and decided to keep to the shadows until the train was ready to go. Out of sight, out of mind, they said, and in case she actually became a fugitive, she didn’t need to be remembered by a member of an intelligence agency.

The fresh air was nice, though. Definitely worth sharing her vital space with government agents for a few minutes.

“Chimney got clogged again, didn’t it?”

Alex wanted to jump out of her skin when she suddenly heard a voice behind her, but the upside of being in a constant state of mild anxiety was that she just tensed up very hard when she got spooked. Shoulders squared and butt firmly clenched, she turned around to see an old woman with a grin so wide that it dipped into the uncanny valley. She was stocky, with lime green hair tied in braids, and wore a hat with Water 7’s initials that probably meant she worked there.

This was not how Alex had expected the station master to look, and if she had had it in her to worry about complete strangers, she would have been concerned about the woman’s safety.

A small girl with lips and hair conspicuously similar to the woman’s spoke up from behind her, annoyed. “I didn’t! I’ve been going every day!”

The older woman laughed loudly. “I meant the train, not you!”

The girl huffed and left, but the older woman stayed.

Now that she was facing her, her breath hit Alex, and it reeked of alcohol. Oh dear. She hoped the woman didn’t have a terribly important job there. She didn’t get what was so funny about the exchange, but she didn’t want to ask, either.

“I don’t know,” she replied with hesitation, realizing she had been asked a question. “They just told us we were going to stop for a while.”

“It happens sometimes.” She said. The grin was perpetually etched in her face. “They made the chimney too long, but Tom always said it looked nicer that way. You’d think Iceburg would have more sense once he took over, but he says he doesn’t want to change it.”

As soon as those names were dropped, Alex’s brain began to try and make connections like a madman with a wall covered in papers trying to make sense of a conspiracy theory. She didn’t know if the woman was assuming she knew who those people were or she was so drunk that she didn’t care.

Fortunately for Alex, she did know, marginally, who she was referring to – Iceburg, Water 7’s current mayor, was famous worldwide thanks to the Galley-La Company, and by Tom she assumed she meant the man who designed the original sea train. That name would have escaped her, had not a number of coincidences engraved it in her mind.

She couldn’t say if Tom had been forgotten as a relic of a past era or forcibly ejected from public memory as a result of being connected to Gold Roger and ever-present racism. He was a genius inventor, the one who put Water 7 on the world map by building the Sea Train, and the world returned the favor by executing him.

Most executions relating to the Pirate King had happened when Alex was still very young and didn’t pay much attention to anything that went on outside of her immediate vicinity, but Tom’s happened much later, when she was twenty and being aware of the world’s geopolitics was an indispensable part of her studies. They granted him a few more years to finish the Sea Train, and everybody back then had been convinced that his service would be repaid with a pardon, but that wasn’t how the World Government worked.

Unstoppable in their mission to purge every little thing that remained of Roger, they eliminated the man who built the Oro Jackson. Alex’s friend opened a bottle of his wife’s good whiskey, and then another, and suddenly it was four in the morning with him slurring and sobbing on the table, and his wife was halfway through the second pack of cigarettes of the night and Alex was so drunk in solidarity too that it was a good thing that her chair had a sturdy back and armrests, because otherwise she was pretty sure she’d have slid to the sticky floor and stayed there listening to old stories. He had a killer hangover the next day and Alex was just sleepy because young bodies were capable of amazing things, and then everything seemed to return to normal.

That had been a bad year, and a combination of everything happening at once and managing to torpedo her own academic career meant that putting it behind wasn’t an easy thing to do. Aside from Tom’s execution bringing down the mood considerably and her own personal problems, passage through the Red Line was also shut for months after queen Otohime’s assassination, meaning that Alex couldn’t return home at the time the country was going through the worst political unrest in centuries, and even if she had been free to go, the long absence would have made her flunk the year and lose her scholarship. Alex remembered that year like one remembered a fever nightmare: fuzzy, never ending, with huge gaps in the middle, yet sinking its claws so deep within that it was just a mention or reminder away from resurfacing. Sabaody got worse around that time, too, due to Doflamingo’s rise to Shichibukai and king status. His auction house started operating in the archipelago while Marines looked the other way, and kidnapping crews grew in number and activity.

All in all, not the best time of her life. In fact, current technically-not-on-the-run Alex was still faring so much better than past Alex that the thought wrapped around from depressing to funny.

She looked at the Sea Train, trying to imagine it with a shorter chimney. Two men were at the top of the smokebox with big brushes. “I can see their point. The proportions would be off.”

The woman must have been in a very good mood, because she chuckled. “I’m not an engineer or an artist, so I can’t say. Why are you here, anyway? Do you need anything?”

“Oh, no, sorry, it’s just—” She thought about the Cipher Pol agents out there. “There’s a lot of people on the platform.”

“And it’s windy, too,” she said, looking at the sky. “People have gotten blown away before, you know.”

“…Oh. That’s good to know, thanks,” she said, timidly taking a step back into the house so she wasn’t being hit by the wind anymore. Alex still had some time to kill and was curious about the woman, and talkative as she was, she assumed she wouldn’t mind a bit of prodding. “You mentioned Iceburg and Tom. Do you know them?”

The laugh that came next didn’t sound as happy as the other ones, somehow. “Know them? I’ve known Iceburg since he was a little brat. Tom was a good friend. Did you know that Iceburg was his apprentice? Not that these people care,” she nudged her head towards the Cipher Pol agents and Alex sank even deeper into the little house. “Tom died so they could save face, but they won’t touch Iceburg because he’s useful. That’s all they mean to them.”

Alex didn’t know very well how to respond, but she felt the need to say something. “I have a friend who said the same. He sailed on one of Tom’s ships years ago.”

The woman looked at Alex, and beyond the drunken stupor, some clarity shined behind her eyes. “Oh? And what did he think about it? Was it smooth sailing?”

Alex smiled just a little bit. “Not really, but he says it was the best ship in the world.”

The woman cackled, happily this time. “Of course it was! He made the best ships! Not even Iceburg or…” She trailed off, and Alex couldn’t tell if she had forgotten where she was going or she had done it on purpose. “Say, are you headed to Water 7?”

“Yes, why?”

“I need you to do me a favor. All this talk’s gotten me nostalgic and the Aqua Laguna will be here any day, so…” The woman walked to a counter, pulled out a notebook, wrote something, tore out the page and kissed it before folding it twice. She waddled back to Alex and gave her the paper. “Give this to Iceburg.”

Alex’s hand froze with the paper already in it. “I… don’t think I can do that. Isn’t he famous? How am I supposed to meet him?”

The woman brushed her concerns off like nothing, and Alex’s nerves didn’t appreciate that. “Nah, it’s not a problem. Go to Dock 1 in the afternoon, he’s usually there avoiding official duty. Tell them Kokoro sent you. That should be enough.”

“Okay…?” She said, still unsure. “I won’t promise anything, though.”

“No need for promises, just deliver it. I need a drinking buddy.” And she added, “You should go to Blueno’s bar while you’re there. The booze is cheap and the food is good, and that isn’t something you can’t say about many places in the city.”

“Oh?” This new topic was interesting. “Is it very expensive?”

Kokoro laughed. “You’ll see when you get there.”

That sounded ominous for her budget, and Alex didn’t feel too good about this ordeal she had been roped into because the last thing she wanted to do was enable an alcoholic lady. But maybe Iceburg would look after her…? They were longtime friends, according to her.

At any rate, there wasn’t much point in refusing the errand. If delivering the note happened to be too complicated, she could pass and no one would be none the wiser. Her priority was to find a ship and get to Sabaody the sooner, the better.

And when she was there, maybe tell her friends that she had met a friend of a friend.

❦

When Alex arrived to Blue station, she had to remind herself that she had several objectives in mind and sightseeing came second. She put on her sunglasses to block out the glare of the sun and its reflection on the water, and looked up.

In front of her stood a colossal city built upwards and turned fountain, with five different levels of construction that culminated in an upwards surge of water. It was collected by a series of canalizations that crossed the city from the top to sea level and divided the second tier in smaller areas.

Water 7 was one of the many independent state-islands in the area, and though not affiliated with the World Government – it hadn’t been a notable location at all, before the Sea Train that ironically connected it to Enies Lobby was put in motion – its globally renowned shipyards often worked on Marine ships and other vessels for people with important positions in the government. It was said that nowhere else in the world could you find better shipwrights than in Water 7, and the man famously acclaimed for it was Iceburg, current mayor and owner of the aforementioned shipyards. He had founded the Galley-La company a few years ago, recruiting the best shipwrights he could find for his behemoth of an enterprise, and it worked. Alex was actually excited to see firsthand what all the fuss was about.

But first things first, and before taking the mysterious note to the mayor, she needed to find the ship that would take her to the Sabaody Archipelago.

She got unnecessarily lost several times inside the labyrinth of canals and side streets because she refused to walk up to people and ask, but eventually, she found the Grand Canal of the island and the harbor where most ships docked.

It didn’t take her long to mind a means of transport, thankfully. The passenger ship departed the next day in the morning, and with a lot of pain, Alex had to fork over a good chunk of her remaining savings to secure a ticket on such short notice. It wasn’t the end of the world, since, she already counted on having to stay in Sabaody for a while to rebuild her budget, but it stung.

After the more pressing issue was dealt with, she took a walk around the area to find somewhere to eat, maybe try some local specialty, but she felt her hunger vanish when she looked at the prices of the menus outside. Kokoro had been right. What was the place she had mentioned… Bruno’s? Blueno’s? Yeah, that sounded familiar.

Unfortunately, a cursory glance didn’t reveal its location. If it was cheaper, it was probably somewhere less central, and if that was the case, she’d have more luck crossing the bridge to Green Bit unscathed than finding it without assistance.

Face with the unavoidable fact that she had to ask someone if she had any hopes of finding the place, she took a look around and decided she might as well procrastinate on it for as long as she could. She started to walk towards the upper part of the city, the Shipbuilding Island, where the docks were located, or so multiple signposts said. It really drove home that they were the main attraction of the city, more than the canals of the amazing architecture.

Getting there was going to take a while. She could have rented one of those cute Yagara boats, but she was cheap as hell, and, not less importantly, the critters seemed a little overenthusiastic. After the trip, all the walking she had done and the lack of food, she wasn’t in the mood to be social with anybody, human or not.

Maybe she would be lucky and come across Blueno’s place as she went to the shipyards. Yeah. That was a hopeful lie she could hang onto while she forced her body to walk way more than it was used to.

She hummed on her way up, singing to herself when she went through empty streets. As it turned out, the difficulty of reaching the shipyards by foot wasn’t finding the way up, but rather being in the proper sidewalk when she happened upon the next bridge or set of stairs, and after an hour she had lost count of the amount of times she had reached a dead end and had to turn back to the nearest bridge to cross the street and ascend, from the third instance onwards accompanied by a cranky ‘GAAAAH’ as she ran in the right direction. One would have thought this wouldn’t have won her any points with the locals, but she heard a few snickering at her and saying something in a language she didn’t speak but universally translated as ‘hahaha, tourists.’

She’d be the first to admit that going up that monumental city while carrying a backpack wasn’t her brightest idea, but she was damned if she was going to cave in at that point and rent the Yagara. She’d wash downstream on the way back if it came to that, but she had to get to the top now by her own means.

The moment she set foot on Shipbuilding island, she walked a few steps away from the staircase to not block it, dropped her backpack, and then her ass next to it to catch her breath.

When she recovered enough to raise her head instead of thinking how miserably sore she was going to be in the morning, she was greeted by an even better view than when she arrived to the Blue Station, and she pushed her glasses up for a moment to better see the colors of the city.

The lowest level of Water 7 extended below her, clusters of white houses and orange roofs covering the entire expanse of the island that wasn’t occupied by the canals. The wind blew harder at that level, too, with less obstacles in its path, since that part of the city was built on a steep incline, and it carried with it the spray of the central fountain, painting a timid rainbow across the sky. She imagined the view at night being just as stunning.

She chose to view this as the reward for her efforts, and then snorted at her the consolation prize of her own making.

As nice as it was to stare at the city and the sky and sea beyond, she was there with a double mission of getting the note to Iceburg and being a little nosy, so she looked at the monumental stone door she had just crossed with the number three painted on it. She was willing to go out on a limb and assume that that wasn’t Dock 1, so she began to circle around the area to find the next one, and once again she had to go the way she had come when she saw the next door had a four. Alex would be the first to agree that the most powerful force in the universe was cosmic irony, but after the sidewalk business while she made her way up there, this seemed a little excessive.

At least the circular shape of the area and the conveniently located bridges allowed her to cross over the canals with ease, saving her from getting lost again, and in a matter of minutes door number one, wide open, came into view.

At first she didn’t know where to go, since each dock could have easily been a town on their own. She began to walk upwards, wondering how was she supposed to find Iceburg and with little intent to go out of her way to find him if she didn’t have luck. A couple of minutes later, she noticed a group of townspeople standing in a half circle and staring at something. Alex decided to approach them and see what was going on. There was a good chance that the mayor himself was attracting the crowd, if he really was as popular as the rumors said.

Standing at a safe distance from the group, she realized that it was composed mostly by women, and she looked at whatever had them so interested. A man with his torso covered in tattoos was carrying a couple of long planks over his shoulder with surprising ease, and another one, farther away, was sawing a tree trunk so big that it couldn’t be for anything but a mast. He caught Alex’s attention because for some reason he was wearing a top hat that clashed horribly with the rest of his outfit and there was a pigeon sitting on a nearby pile of crates and watching him work with surprising focus. None of them, obviously, looked like mayor material.

Alex wasn’t sure what the crowd was doing there until she heard a hushed comment about the shipwright’s arms and being able to break concrete with those. Oh, God, they were there to ogle at the shipwrights? Alex wasn’t nearly straight enough for this. How was that even allowed? She took a step away from them, but by then a cheerful man wearing a tracksuit of questionable taste had noticed the group and acknowledged them with a wave and a smile. One of the girls swooned, and Alex died a little inside, then died some more because she had worked hard on leaving behind her ‘not like the other girls phase’ but the circumstances weren’t helping matters.

The other workers were busy, but the new face seemed to be free at the moment, he looked friendly, and she had come to the conclusion that she’d have to communicate with strangers if Kokoro’s note was to be delivered. She waved back at the man with the paper in her hand and something that resembled urgency on her face. She wasn’t hopeful, but to her surprise, he started to walk towards her. At the same time, the man with the top hat finished the cut he was making and the white pigeon stood up, cooed at tracksuit guy, and flew to rest on the shoulder of his coworker.

“Hattori is so cute,” one of the women said.

Alex didn’t know anymore who of the three was Hattori. She was even more confused when top hat guy passed near his colleague and the pigeon said, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Lucci’s coming our way!” One of the younger girls said, excited.

“Do you think he’ll pick another fight with Paulie today?”

“I hope so! Did you see what his fingers did to the—”

Alright, time to unplug from the conversation. She could guess that Lucci was the name of the man, because she didn’t think a pigeon, no matter how articulate, could inspire so much passion.

The name gave her pause.

Where had she heard it before? It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maybe she had heard someone talk about him at some point. He had to be a renowned shipwright if he was working in Dock 1 of Water 7, of all places.

Lucci was tall, but she didn’t realize just how much until he was right in front of her, staring her down in a way that, in any other context, she’d have assumed meant that he was about to snap her neck. Was he taller than Trafalgar Law, or did the top hat made him look like he was? She only knew that if she ever had the back luck of bumping into the guy, she would likely split her forehead against his pectoral muscles. The man was built like a classical marble statue with facial hair, tattoos, and a serious case of resting bitchface. She could empathize with him on the latter.

“Can I help you?”

Alex didn’t know whether to look at the pigeon or the man, and in a panic, she settled on the man because it felt wiser to not lose sight of him than a bird.

And what a bird. That pigeon was easily the size of her head.

“I met a woman named Kokoro at Shift Station. She asked me to give this note to mayor Iceburg,” she said, showing the folded note to him.

He extended a hand for her to pass the paper, and she wasn’t sure how ethical it was to let another person read a clearly personal note with a kiss stamped on it, but to be quite frank, she didn’t care and he and the close attention his group of fans was making her anxious.

A pair of strangely-shaped eyebrows lifted when he read the message.

“Kokoro?” The bird repeated. There had to be a trick there. That was a pigeon, not a parrot, they weren’t supposed be able to enunciate like humans. It was probably unreasonable of her to revoke her suspension of disbelief due to that when she knew there were so many strange creatures living in the Grand Line, but she had to draw the line somewhere. “Mayor Iceburg is doing his rounds right now. He should be here in a few minutes. You can wait for him over there,” he said, gesturing with a wing at a pile of neatly stacked timber across from where his owner had been working, and Lucci returned the note to her. “Don’t be noisy.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she retorted with a mix of indignation and embarrassment, reflexively taking a step away from him and the group she had just been associated with. The movement telegraphed against her will that she found him intimidating, which only served to embarrass her more. “Thank you.”

There really was no way anybody with functioning eyes could mistake her for one of the group. The ladies looked nice, and Alex looked like… well, she couldn’t tell, but she was glad she didn’t have a mirror on hand, because if she looked as sweaty as she felt, she wasn’t a pretty sight. The boots and big backpack on her back were also clear signs that she wasn’t from around there.

Wordlessly, Lucci returned to his job while Alex was left with the impression that she had just been made fun of, not that anybody could tell by the shipwright’s stony face. She relaxed a little when he left her alone, not in small part due to the attention of the group being lifted from her.

That place was nothing like the shipyards she was used to. Canals ran through it, same as in the city below, and led to other slide-like canalizations that connected to the lower levels. There were a lot of those all around the city, she had noticed, acting as roads for the Yagaras, and, she guessed in the case of the larger ones, to help transport the newly built or repaired ships from the docks to sea level.

Some time had passed when she caught sight of a blue-haired man in a striped suit walking in her general direction, closely followed by a blonde woman with a strict expression, and while he was busy inspecting the work of a shipwright, she noticed Alex was away from the crowd and made a beeline for her.

“Excuse me.” The tone of the pleasantry suggested that it was actually her who was excusing Alex’s presence. “Do you have any business here?”

Alex didn’t enjoy being talked down to, so the reply came out harsher that she meant. “As a matter of fact, I do.” When she realized how snappy she had sounded, she explained quickly, “I was told by Kokoro to deliver a message to mayor Iceburg, and he,” she gestured at Lucci, who was busy with his job and not paying them any mind, with the note, “said I could wait for him here.”

“Did he, now,” she replied, sending a skeptical glance at the man, and she extended her hand towards Alex. Someone must have pissed in her coffee that morning. “Let me see.”

That note was going to places, she thought, but the woman must have found its contents acceptable, because she returned it to Alex and told her, “Wait here.”

Alex was about to start having flashbacks of all the bureaucratic mess involved with her recent move out of Duster Town. The woman went to the man in the suit and directed him towards Alex while she walked over to Lucci to tell him something she wasn’t able to hear because she now had to pay attention to the mayor of the city.

“Hello,” he said, sounding much politer than the woman. “Kalifa tells me you have a message for me.”

It was curious, comparing the old descriptions she had heard of the man with his current appearance. He wouldn’t have been caught dead in a suit twenty years ago, for instance.

“Yes, from Kokoro. Here,” she said, finally giving the note to its intended recipient and feeling like she was set free from a curse.

“Hm?” He opened he note, and after just a split second his face turned into a grimace. “Ugh, gross!”

“Uh, what?” The note had already passed two filters, so she couldn’t imagine what could warrant that reaction.

He showed her the note and Alex read it for the first time. Same place, same time? It said. The lipstick imprint of the kiss was smudged and stained the whole page. Iceburg didn’t waste any time in crumpling the paper and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Thank you for delivering the message.”

“Mr. Iceburg! No littering!” The woman from before warned, but someone else replied to her.

“Don’t speak like that to Mr. Iceburg, you wretched woman! And show some property while you’re in the docks!”

The woman didn’t reply, but she sent a death glare to the man who had spoken up, and Alex could have sworn that she pulled down the zipper of her jacket lower than it already was, drawing an even bigger reaction from him.

“Nmaa, don’t mind them,” Iceburg said, sounding bored. WYou don’t seem from around here. Are you visiting?”

“Just passing by before the Aqua Laguna comes,” she replied. “But I wish I could stay longer.”

He smiled with something akin to pride. “It’s a good city, isn’t it? What have you seen so far?”

“Oh, well, I walked around the Grand Canal and the shopping district earlier, and I saw a bit of the city while I walked up here, but—”

“You walked here?”

Oh, this was so awkward. She should have tossed that note into the sea. “I’m a historian,” she replied, because that was an excuse that always curbed people’s curiosity. “I wanted to take my time exploring.”

“If that’s the case, have you seen the maritime museum yet? It’s near the Grand Canal, and there’s a showcase about the origins of the city right now.”

She wasn’t a big fan of museums, truth be told, but professional habit compelled her to go anyway. The list of places she had to visit didn’t seem to shrink. “No, but I’ll be sure to—Oh, that reminds me!” Might as well ask while she had his attention, she thought. “Kokoro recommended going to Blueno’s bar while I was here. Where can I find it?”

“Ah, good idea!” Iceburg’s face lit up. “Let’s see, what can we do… Since you don’t have a Yagara, let me ask Kalifa if she has a map of—”

“No need, Mr. Iceburg.” Someone else piped up. “It’s time for my break, so I can show her.”

The guy in the tracksuit from before was walking up to them, showing a warm smile.

“That would be perfect,” Iceburg replied, and the said to Alex. “This is one of our foremen, Kaku.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Kaku looked young and sounded old at once. “Likewise,” Alex replied. “I’m Alex.”

“Well then, Alex,” he said in a suspiciously cheerful tone. “I don’t have long, so we’ll have to get there in a jiffy. Are you ready?”

As ready as she was ever going to be until she had a good night’s sleep. “Sure. Whenever you…”

A not so inoffensive grin spread on Kaku’s face and he broke into a sprint in Alex’s direction, so fast that she couldn’t duck from his path before he threw an arm around her, easily lifting her from the floor, extra weight from the backpack and all, and he kept running toward the edge of the level and jumped.

She thought she yelled, but she couldn’t hear her own voice against the roar of the wind in her ears and her blood pressure rising at the absolute certainty that she was going to become a pancake, the only doubt being whether she’d be dry or wet at the bottom of a canal.

On reflex, she grabbed tightly onto the only thing available, which was Kaku’s arm firmly wrapped around her torso, and her grip was met with stone hard muscle. What was up with these shipwrights?

She saw Dock 1 get smaller and smaller at breakneck speed as she fell backwards, and she braced for impact and shut her eyes as the first rooftop approached, but they didn’t crash against it because Kaku did something before he hit it. She felt it in the shift of his body, like he had bounced off the surface.

Alex paid more attention to his feet after she realized she wasn’t going to die splattered against a rooftop, and the second time she saw it: right before his shoes touched the roof tiles, he jumped again, stepping on air, effectively creating the illusion that he was jumping from building to building.

The adrenaline-fueled fear of impending doom was suddenly replaced by cold dread.

She had seen that before. She knew what that was.

A civilian couldn’t possibly know how to do that.

So who was the man carrying her right now? The only thing separating her from certain death? Could he have learned to do that anywhere else or could it be a different technique? There was always a chance that he was retired, but he was so young, and already so skilled, and she knew for a fact that the Marines didn’t like letting go of those.

…Marines?

Where… where had she heard the name Lucci, again…?

She had to be imagining things, for sure, but she also had a strong feeling that she needed to take her leave from the island as soon as possible. She was sleeping with a gun under her pillow that night.

With a few last hops, Kaku landed on firm ground and Alex thanked her lucky stars when he put her down safely. She felt lightheaded, and wasn’t sure if it was because of the sudden freefall or that her all-consuming paranoia had her doubting the intentions of one of Galley-La’s foremen, which sounded increasingly stupid the longer her feet where in contact with solid stone.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing at something behind Alex’s back.

Her reaction was slow, but when she turned around, she saw a door with a big red sign above that said Blueno’s.

She felt a pang of guilt for being afraid of the guy when he had done her a huge favor, albeit in a kind of dickish way. Dock 1 was a good ways away, and she would have given up if she had had to walk there. She looked at him and admitted, “That was pretty cool once I got over the heart attack.”

She still sounded kind of breathless and didn’t know if asking how he had learned to extreme parkour was a good idea.

Kaku laughed with joy that rang true. “My apologies about that. I rarely ever have company on the way down.”

She tried to picture Kaku grabbing Lucci the same way he had done to her and jumping down, and her brain broke during the attempt. “Yeah, I can’t imagine that colleague of yours with the top hat jumping down the…” She trailed off, interrupted by her own thoughts and questions about that other guy, and the pause became awkward. “Anyway—”

“You can ask,” he said, smiling.

She jumped at the opportunity. “Is he a ventriloquist?”

“It’s a hobby,” Kaku replied, amused, as he pushed the door open. “Ladies first.”

Alex didn’t know what it was with every strange man he came across lately that their courtesies sounded vaguely threatening, but she entered the venue, nonetheless.

It was much nicer than she had expected. The bartender was a wide man with a circle beard and hair sticking out like horns, and he was appropriately wiping a set of glasses behind the counter, like every barman should during their first introduction.

“Good afternoon, Blueno!” Kaku greeted him before Alex could say anything, going inside after her.

“Same as always?”

“Please.” He leaned against the bar. Alex sat on a barstool near him and tried to be emotionally ready to be the third wheel in two strangers’ interaction. “Oh, and something for the others, too. Whatever it is. We’re finishing a big repair today and you know how it goes.”

“Is it the Marine warship?”

“A windjammer for a private client. Working metal is a pain, and they want it yesterday.” He sounded displeased for the first time since they had met. “You can’t rush a good job.”

“The customer is never right,” Blueno agreed.

Kaku raised an eyebrow at him. “I hope that wasn’t directed at me.”

“Of course not,” Blueno’s reply sounded paternalistic. Alex could sense the history behind these two. “It’s odd to see you with someone else.”

Kaku put aside his mild annoyance to introduce her. “She’s Alex. She was visiting the shipyards and I brought her along on my way down.”

“Hi,” she said, looking for any other words she had learned during the course of her life and drawing a blank. Someone kill her, please.

“I see. I thought the landing sounded heavier than usual,” Blueno observed.

“Attentive as always.” Kaku commended him. “But what an awful thing to say to a young lady. She’s light as a two-by-four.”

“No offense meant,” Blueno said to her in good humor. “It’s part of the job.”

“None taken, I’m at least a four-by-four.”

There was a hint of a smile, on his face when he asked, “What will you have?”

“Whatever you recommend. I haven’t eaten since I woke up.”

“Can you believe she walked all the way to Dock 1 to sightsee?” Kaku chuckled. “I didn’t think historians were the sporty types.”

“You heard that?”

“I have pretty good hearing, too.”

“I can’t imagine what type of madman wouldn’t ride a Yagara to make that trip,” Blueno replied. No doubts about who he had in mind this time. “A historian, huh? I suppose this city’s fairly old.”

“The architecture’s really interesting.” She replied, finally reaching a topic that she could talk about. Though she was a bit concerned that they knew what she was because Suspicious Foreman was suspicious, she didn’t see what harm could come of it. “It’s impressive to think this is all supported by wood pillars.”

“They keep sinking year by year, though. At this rate, there won’t be a city in a few decades,” Kaku said, surprisingly grim.

“Thanks for showing me the rooftops while they’re still visible, then,” Alex joked in a weak attempt to bring his good mood back.

It worked. He had such a cute smile. “You’re more than welcome.” He turned to the bartender. “Now then, Blueno…”

“Right away,” the man replied, going into the kitchen and leaving Alex and Kaku alone for a few minutes.

A companionable silence, until Kaku broke it and his question put Alex on edge again. “Where do historians in the making study nowadays, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Marineford, mostly. There aren’t many places left.” The same people offering the current curriculum had made sure of it.

“And what drives someone so young to be so interested in history?”

She had been asked that question so many times, and the real answer was always curiosity. To learn the truths that shaped the present. She had the folder with the Poneglyph transcript in her backpack to account for that.

But even partial truths could be dangerous given her current situation, so she replied, “I could ask the same of you. How does someone so young get so good at building ships?”

There was a flash of surprise in his face at the question being turned against him. It was quickly substituted by one of his smiles, but Alex had the impression that he was very aware that she was deflecting on purpose. “I’ve liked them since I was a kid,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you why.”

She shrugged, mirroring his smile. “There’s your answer.”

He laughed lightly and turned to look at the bottles behind the bar with an amused expression. He didn’t insist or say anything else, and the more at ease he looked, the more anxious Alex grew.

It wasn’t long until Blueno showed up again with a bag full of sandwiches wrapped in paper in one hand and a towering plate of pasta with black sauce on the other that she set in front of Alex.

“Thanks,” Kaku said, putting the money on the counter and grabbing the bag. “See you later.” And he faced Alex one last time, lifting his cap a little in a polite gesture and revealing a blonde mass of curls. “It’s been a pleasure. Good luck on your travels.”

“Thank you!”

He left the bar, and his departure added to the leaning tower of pasta made her think that her day was starting to look up until she remembered that she had only mentioned she was leaving soon to Iceburg.

How long had he been listening in?

❦

She couldn’t sleep.

Despite her misgivings, the rest of the day had passed without incident. She booked a room for the night at an inn off the beaten path that Blueno had recommended, checked out the maritime museum, and nearly fallen asleep after half an hour because that was the effect that, sadly, most museums had on her. But she did see an old picture next to a Sea Train model of Tom, his two apprentices, and the master of Shift Station.

Time didn’t wait for anybody, she thought as she flexed her aching hands.

She ended up walking around again, this time only through the lowest district, rejecting even the mere sight of stairs, and saw a cape where someone had built the weirdest and most colorful house of the city. Near it was a scrapyard, and though she had no intentions of going close to either, a couple of locals told her to watch her belongings while she was there. It was a bit nostalgic.

It was difficult to believe, she thought as she stared at the ceiling of her room, that such a vibrant city was sinking under its own weight, and that as soon as the sea swallowed it, there would be nothing but stories being told about it. Maybe that was how those legends of ancient islands that disappeared came to be. Maybe Water 7 would become a legend to, a few centuries down the line.

She fidgeted with the stone around her neck, a nervous habit had for as long as she’d been wearing it. It was better than biting her nails, at least, but it looked weird when she wore it inside her clothes and unconsciously reached for it, so she did her best to avoid it.

She was very tired and sore from all that walking, but try as she might, she couldn’t turn off her thoughts. After way too much tossing and turning, she decided she would rather see more of the city than waste her time in bed. She could catch up on sleep when she boarded the ship to Sabaody, anyway.

She picked up the same pair of jeans she had been wearing all day, the black tank top she usually wore under her sweaters, and tossed around her shoulders the same red shawl she used to wear like a scarf in Harlun. It wasn’t cold outside, but the night breeze was somewhat chilly. Better safe than sorry.

She debated whether to pick up the gun in her backpack or leave it there, and she decided on the former. A present from her father when she came of age for the sake of her safety, and one she had never liked.

It wasn’t too late yet, only a few minutes past 10 PM, and there was still a healthy flow of people on the streets. Alex made her way to one of the many Yagara rental shops still open and paid for one of the small ones. There she went, defeating her own purpose like the hypocrite she was.

“One question,” she told the shop owner as she settled on the boat, “Are the docks open at this hour?”

“They usually leave the doors open, yeah. Sometimes there’s people working at night.” He replied. “Why, you want to go now?”

“I was thinking of checking out the view from the highest part of the city.”

“That so? Then you just need to go up one of the main canals in the Shipbuilding Island.”

“Thanks!” She said, and then patted the Yagara on the head. It was cold, wet and scaly. “Can you bring me to Dock 1? There’s no hurry.” She had seen one of them speeding through a canal early and she was not ready for that.

The Yagara uttered a high-pitched guttural sound that no fishlike creature had any business doing and started to swim at a relaxed pace.

Alex didn’t know how long it took them to get to their destination, distracted as she was watching the city from a different viewpoint, but the higher they went, the less people that seemed to be out. By the time they reached Dock 1, the area was devoid of human presence, and all the ship parts and materials Alex had seen in the morning had been either moved somewhere safer or covered by tarps to protect them from the weather.

The Yagara continued its slow ascent through the canal that separated Dock 1 and 2, and the base of the fountain wasn’t too far when she heard hammering sounds. Someone was still working.

Curiosity, as was usual, got the best of her and she told the Yagara to slow down. Whoever was there also noticed her presence, because the hammering stopped.

A man stepped under the light of a streetlight, hammer in hand, to check out the canal, and Alex realized with surprise that he was none other than Water 7’s mayor, though he had shed the jacket and shirt. He was wearing only an undershirt with those awful striped pants from before and business shoes.

“Who’s there?” He asked.

Alex realized the light didn’t reach her, so he was probably just seeing a shadow, and in the deserted dock it had to be more than a little unnerving. She nudged the Yagara towards the light and replied, “It’s me from before! Sorry to interrupt, I was just passing by!”

Iceburg looked at her with interest and approached her, so she thought it was only polite to step out of the boat.

“Where are you going at this hour?” He asked, stopping at arm’s length of her.

“I was trying to get to the top of the city.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m sightseeing.”

He relaxed upon hearing the explanation, and with a smile, he said, “Glad to see that the scare from earlier didn’t kill you.”

It was official, everybody in Dock 1 had decided to pick on her. “It could have!” She replied. “Does he do that often?”

“Jumping? Yes, but most of the time he doesn’t take people with him. He did it to Paulie once and he was foaming at the mouth when they landed. Never heard the end of it for a week." The fondness with which he spoke betrayed that he hadn’t minded the aftermath as much as the words suggested.

She didn’t know who Paulie was, but he was justified in being upset. She also thought that it was nice to meet a boss that seemed to appreciate his workers. “I don’t see other shipwrights around. Are you working here alone?”

“Nmaa…” he started lazily, “I sent them home. The heavy lifting was done; I can finish it myself.”

Iceburg may have been a shipwright before becoming president of the company, but Alex hadn’t expected him to do manual labor when he had paid other people for it. “The windjammer?”

“Kaku told you?” He sounded pleased, and he answered the unspoken question from before. She assumed he got it a lot. “My day job is meetings, papers and ass kissing all day long. I prefer this.”

This was much easier to reconcile with the stories she had heard of Water 7. “I can’t say I’d mind the papers, but the rest sounds exhausting.”

“Bodies need to move. Weren’t you doing field research today?”

“By accident.” She couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face. He was easy to talk to, and seeing this side of him, she didn’t feel like she had to watch her words so much. “I’m trying to find a way home. Train and ship schedules brought me here.”

“You chose a difficult time of the year to sail. Is it far away?”

She nodded lightly. “It’s still a ways away.” Nonetheless, she was glad for this detour. Maybe that was why she found the courage to say, “I have a friend who came to this city about twenty years ago. He said you worked on his ship.”

Maybe it was because she lost filters when she was tired.

“Is that so?” He said, curious. “I’ve worked in many ships. Things were very different back then.” He glanced away, at the district that had only taken this shape a few years ago, thanks to him. “Did the ship do its job?”

She wondered what to say. Nothing that could do it justice, for sure. “Brought them to the end of the world, in fact.”

She wished she had been there to see it.

Iceburg’s eyes widened with surprise, and after a short, contemplative silence, he said, “That ship took much from us.” There was hurt in his voice. “I think Tom knew it would be one of his last, so he put his everything in it. He would have done anything for his friends.”

It was easy to forget that every great story had real people behind it. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

He shook his head. “We never regretted it, so… don’t. It was a magnificent ship. Tom’s best work, after the Sea Train.” He paused. “Is your friend okay?”

“Doing alright for sure. He’d be all over the papers if something happened to him.”

“That’s good to hear.” A smile that reached his eyes came back only to morph into a sigh in an instant. “Well, I need to go back to…”

“Of course!” She said very quickly. “Sorry for holding you up. It was a pleasure to meet you.” And to put a face to the stories, too.

“I should say the same,” he said, and it didn’t sound like an empty pleasantry. “Fair winds on the way back home.”

“Thank you.”

As he started to walk away, Alex hopped back on the boat and pulled the shawl tighter around her. Perhaps she should have put on a jacket, after all.

The view from the top of the district was as spectacular as she had hoped.

❦

She wasn’t sure how she got up from bed the next morning. Must have been the fairies that pushed her upright, because everything hurt and she was so exhausted that she couldn’t even open her eyes after a thorough face wash. Somehow, she managed to drag her feet to the dining room and have a light breakfast. Bless the laziness that had prevented her from changing into her pajamas again before she dropped on the bed when she returned from the docks, because she didn’t think she’d have been able to stick her legs in the right holes of the jeans.

She returned to her room, triple checked to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind, and checked out of the inn.

Despite the brief but intense stay, and the uneasy feeling she had since she had met Kaku, she didn’t really want to go, but she had done the right thing booking passage for the ship to Sabaody. Imagine getting stuck in a city next to one of the government’s main islands because of a high tide. No, thanks, she hadn’t come this far to fail when she was a week away from her destination.

So it was with a bit of regret that Alex boarded the passenger ship that would carry her to the archipelago, but she had always been good at ignoring what she felt like doing in favor of what had to be done, and this was going to be no exception.

From the deck, she saw a pirate ship sail past them, black flag with a straw hat billowing in the wind.

#what are tags even and what are titles #degrees of separation

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pokelolmc · 4 years

Text

Ectoberweek Day 1: (Fog)

(I only just remembered about Ectoberweek when I saw people posting their things for Day 1, and I really wanted to participate in some sort of fandom event this year so I scrambled to find the prompt list and started writing my stuff last minute lol. No preparation time--RIP me. This particular one came from a massive inspiration burst between the prompt and a DP crossover idea I had a few months ago, but never wrote. This oneshot is more of a DP-only nod to the other media than a crossover, but I might create a larger crossover story based on it and include it on ff.net if anyone’s interested. Kudos to anyone who gets what this is based off of--it’s probably obvious though.)

(Also, I deeply apologise for how long it is)

Ectoberweek Day 1: Fog

(‘… It wasn’t until the semi-rare encounter of all four Fentons at the breakfast table together that the weather change, bless Danny’s obliviousness, crossed his mind again.

“Be careful on your way out, kids!” his mother called as his chair screeched across the dining room floor and he grabbed his backpack off the couch, “The forecast predicts a fog this morning!”

“The forecast?” Jazz cocked an incredulous eyebrow at the ghost-hunting matriarch from her position in the front foyer, “Have you looked out the window yet?! It’s so thick I can barely see the house across the street!”

“Yeah, I saw it out the window when I woke up, but I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Danny hummed with a frown as he flipped his remaining backpack strap over the other shoulder. You’re not gonna be driving, are you?”

“Of course not!” His sister replied, aghast, “I’m going to walk this time. They’re starting school late to accommodate for the transportation hindrances.”

“And you didn’t tell me that earlier!?” he cried indignantly.

“I knew it would motivate you to slack around and leave the house late, so I decided it would be better to let you know when we were leaving.” She replied, hiding a teasing, know-it-all smile behind a farce of flippancy.

Danny groaned at her attempts to improve his punctuality—apparently, being overbearing now involved withholding vital information— and trailed behind her as she opened the door, his lower jaw swinging loosely on its hinges as the door did, at the firsthand view granted to him of the world beyond…

…The slight chill of mid-autumn fled back in time to the start of September to rush through Danny’s ill-prepared t-shirt and jeans and provoke an involuntary shudder. Jazz’s protective hand clenched firmly onto his wrist so as not to lose him, her free hand reaching to lock the door behind them. Icy blue eyes squinted harshly in the direction they needed to go, straining through the deep field of whiteness like the time he had tried on Tucker’s glasses for the heck of it. As Jazz fished a flashlight out of her schoolbag, they trudged carefully to the corner of their block…

…“Hey, you there!”

Danny froze as Jazz turned to point her flashlight in the direction of the siren lights, the large figure of a policemen striding towards them from across the road...’)

(Full story starts from beginning under cut)

The empty air shimmered, not a cloud in the sky, as the summer holidays reached their end. Amity Park remained—for the most part—plodding along the boundaries of mundanity (or… at least what remained mundane by Amity Park standards); parents treated their kids to their last weekday lunches at the cinemas or public pool, teenagers grumbled seemingly endless streams of complaints about their incomplete summer homework—all between the flurry of evacuations away from the daily ghost who decided to interrupt everyone’s fun.

Loud choruses—comprising more of exasperated sighs and angry diatribes than a cacophony of panic—exploded from the throats of passers-by as that annoying overall-clad spectre swiped all of the boxes from the local supermarket, or the sickly lime glow of a faded raccoon dashed down the streets, its tail rippling from fur to mist behind it. Any terrified screams—that the more violent ghostly destruction of overhead buildings elicited from civilians—quickly gave way to relieved cries and cheers as the familiar ebony and white blur of their town hero whipped into the offending ghost like a homing torpedo, flashing fists outstretched.

As the brawling duo of spectres threw each other across town, a throng of transfixed gazes followed. Avid fans stayed to track every powerful blow with their phones, while others nonchalantly turned back to their previous business as if the paranormal interruption had never occurred. With the inevitable pull-through of their ghostly protector, and the hasty response of the well-oiled machine that was the local paramedic corps, all casualties lay flat at a constant zero. After almost two years of adjusting to ghost attacks, Amity Park had established a comfortable routine—ghosts attacked, everyone evacuated, Danny Phantom swooped in to end the destruction and the injured were assisted, then get safely back along with your day. In the end, it never paid to worry; everything came out the other end okay, and the town remained safe. The morale in Amity mirrored the all-summer-long weather forecast—warm, bright and clear.

Their town hero couldn’t entirely agree as he ascended away from the battle, exhausted. Fatigue wore down at Danny like sandpaper on a knife blade, grinding him blunt and sending his energy into an insidious decline. However, for all it was worth, at least the routine never changed—at least, in the end, the weather he soared through prolonged in him a reminder of the town’s warm cheer and hope each time another ghost was taken care of; for all that he suffered, and all he was forced to lie, others remained safe because of him.

A deep groan cut through Danny as his mind decided to surprise him with the reminder of the hectic workload he would drown in as the school year began again. Hopefully, that safety and routine would at least make it easier—he begged that the morale from the summer would not peter out as its skies did…

He was wrong.

Everything turned upside down on the anniversary of the Accident.

Surprisingly, the event it commemorated was not the culprit; instead, it was the deciding moment that Danny woke up to tiredly yank back his curtains into the first school week of the year…

…and his eyes met the obstruction of a windowful of fog.

It wasn’t until the semi-rare encounter of all four Fentons at the breakfast table together that the weather change, bless Danny’s obliviousness, crossed his mind again.

“Yeah, I saw it out the window when I woke up, but I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Danny hummed with a frown as he flipped his remaining backpack strap over the other shoulder. “You’re not gonna be driving, are you?”

“Of course not!” His sister replied, aghast, “I’m going to walk this time. They’re starting school late to accommodate for the transportation hindrances.”

“And you didn’t tell me that earlier!?” he cried indignantly.

A dense, off-white mist engulfed the entire street like the stifling weight of a lead blanket, the houses across the street reduced to incomplete outlines and the asphalt of the road off of the footpath faint in the viewing distance. Fences, letterboxes and road signs short distances away had been almost, irony not unnoticed, turned into ghosts—fitting squarely into an ancient, redundant impression that Danny’s mind had rendered of the beings before he himself had become half of one; faded, unsolid wisps of what physically was, so scantly visible to the heavily relied upon sense of human sight that one might be of the impression it was hardly even there and nothing in the world could touch it. He almost imagined reaching out to the street sign on the corner and watching his fully tangible hand go straight through it.

The slight chill of mid-autumn fled back in time to the start of September to rush through Danny’s ill-prepared t-shirt and jeans and provoke an involuntary shudder. Jazz’s protective hand clenched firmly onto his wrist so as not to lose him, her free hand reaching to lock the door behind them. Icy blue eyes squinted harshly in the direction they needed to go, straining through the deep field of whiteness like the time he had tried on Tucker’s glasses for the heck of it. As Jazz fished a flashlight out of her schoolbag, they trudged carefully to the corner of their block.

Danny’s stomach dropped lower and lower, like a climber scraping down a flattened slope, with each step, a feeling as dense as the fog resting heavier in his legs. He gulped down a wave of uneasiness that begged for each gruelling minute to pass by more quickly, the very sight and feel of the fog setting off a primal buzz of warning in his chest. As they crossed the intersection at the next block, his racing heart was ready to snap—a scathing complaint about Jazz’s persistent grip on his wrist poised itself to leap from his lips, but muscular instinct tensed his mouth shut.

Red and blue beams flashed on an off on the corner of the crossing and intersected with the topaz glow of Jazz’s flashlight, shimmering clouds of condensation with the universally iconic colours of the law.

“Hey, you there!”

Danny froze as Jazz turned to point her flashlight in the direction of the siren lights, the large figure of a policemen striding towards them from across the road.

“Are you kids headed to Casper High?”

“Yes, sir.” Jazz replied politely, quickly yanking her hand off of Danny’s arm, “I can’t drive because of the fog.”

“Well, good thinking on your part—with that light, too.” He commented, his calm voice stiffening slightly, “Listen, the route to Casper had to change this morning—the road ahead is closed off; you’ll need to take a short detour down the next corner.”

“What’s the matter?” Jazz’s brow furrowed uneasily, “Did something happen?”

“That’s not for you kids to know—police business.” The man sighed calmly, “You just get on ahead to school, and don’t come down here on the way back in the afternoon, alright?”

Danny almost jumped as an irregular dance of footsteps and shaky groan drew closer to them from across the road.

“Ugggh, what an awful sight! How could somebody do this?! I’m sorry sir, I can’t handle this—AAAAAGGH!”

The officer rolled his eyes as a lanky figure in a suit and tie brushed past Danny with a strangled scream, the slow, stumbling gait transforming instantly into a crazed, almost drunken-looking rush down the street. A disgusting gurgling sound bubbled faintly out of an alleyway not far behind them. Danny flinched and Jazz’s lips contorted into a grimace.

“Dammit, Peterson what are you doing?!” the first policeman barked, “Why would you join the police in the first place if you’re that squeamish?!”

…Squeamish?

Once again, Danny’s instinct took a tight hold of his gut and thrashed it to hell as the sound of wet retching faded into an awkward pause.

“…Don’t mind him. He’s not really that…competent.” The officer ushered, pushing the two siblings hurriedly down the corner to the detour route, “Now, you two don’t have too much longer to get to school, so move it along.”

“Of course, sir…” Jazz defended with a surprised stutter at the forceful shove, “We’ll be on our way.”

Each second they walked away from the police dispatch dragged out into an eternity, the sounds of chatter and the flashing of the sirens fading away into still, eerie silence. The siblings held their proverbial breaths in tight chests as they reached the distance outside of the officers’ ear shots. Jazz turned to exchange glances with her brother, grabbing onto his wrist again and clenching tightly, her teal eyes holding an unsaid worry about the encounter she dared not speak aloud. Danny pulled away with an annoyed huff until she let go, his mind pounding him with a show of false bravado to combat the ton of unease that piled into his stomach like a vat of sludge. Jazz’s mouth eventually opened, with what remained of a desperate attempt to say something.

“…a cold morning and fog, during a warm start to September…? Did it rain last night and we never knew?”

One thing for certain crossed Danny’s mind as he started to lag behind her.

There was something about that fog that felt so wrong.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek2020 #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #jazz fenton #fog #this is one of the first times I've tried to write darker DP and the only one I've ever posted #these are the last words of a mad masochist going into Ectoberweek with no preparation rip me

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crestomanci · 3 years

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Synopsis

“The Lost Princess” follows the story of Nick Sullivan, a girl that finds out, on her sixteenth birthday, that she is the daughter of a queen and is summoned to ascend to the throne as the princess of Combellmont island. She initiates, then, a difficult and dangerous journey that could put not only her life at risk as everyone’s she loves.

Chapter 1

What do I know about my mom? What a tough question. Besides all the biological processes I’ve learned in school, like genetics and stuff, I only know some physical characteristics: she was tall, the prettiest lady my father has ever known, and she smelled like mint. And that’s all I know because whenever I talked about her, my father always was already drunk and I needed to help him out and take him from his armchair to his bed.

I’ve never tried to pressure him in order to get information, though, since he always looked so ashamed of himself the next morning and I didn’t want to make him feel sad… Or make me sad. After all, the feelings I’ve grown towards my mom were migrating between sadness and anger. How could someone leave their child with some guy she’d only met once and then never tries to keep in touch? Okay, I was lucky enough that my dad was a cool guy and took me in, but this doesn’t make her less guilty at all.

I wonder if she ever wanted to know where her daughter could be for these past 15 years. If she has ever asked herself if I was okay, if I went to school, if my dad treated me nicely… Nothing? Then, after a while, I started to believe that she never loved me. That I was a mistake she made during a U2 concert after tons of beer and that I didn’t matter to her.

I got up from my bed and decided not to think about her. The less I knew, the less it would hurt, and today I was supposed to be happy, right? Because it was my sixteenth birthday. “Happy Birthday, Nick”, I said to myself. My dad was surely still asleep and I would only see him at night.

“Oh, crap!” twenty minutes late meant that I was late to school and this would be my third time this month. I ran as fast as I could and was able to catch the bus. Luckly, the driver was George and he always stopped for me, even when I was running late.

“Andy again, Nick?” he asked.

I nodded, not wanting to talk about it. Third delay of the month… This would make me stay in school after class and then I would be late for work at Tiffany&Thommy, which would not please Miss Picket. Will “I’m so so sorry, but today is my birthday and everything is nuts” work as an excuse? No. Everyone in town knew me and my dad, so it was known that whenever I was late it was because of him.

George offered me a little red box with a white bow wrapping it around and a tiny card. “Hey, you didn’t think I'd forget, did you?”

“George, you shouldn’t have! Thanks” I thanked and my cheeks turned red while I was getting the present, in a mist of hurry and happiness (after all, I was already late and he had taken his time to hand in the present despite knowing everyone was waiting to carry on the trip!).

“That’s nothing, Nick. Tomorrow, tell me if you liked it. Have a great day and a happy birthday!”

I thanked again while I started to look for a seat. The real bus to Abeley High School was deactivated because no one used it. Most of the students didn’t need to use public transportation since they had their own cars or chauffeurs, and so every single day I had to take the only bus that drove all the way to my school, when, in reality, it dropped me off two blocks away. After spending a whole life in Abeley, I was already used to it, but I wished - as if I was about to blow my birthday cake candles - this year I’d get a car. Or that at least my dad would accept that I should start to study at the school he now works at.

I got up when we were getting closer to the stop and hurried up while going down the stairs, and ran to school.

Yeah, I was definitely late. And obviously I had to face Mr. William, after going to the principal’s office. I smiled bluntly, and then tried to sneak into his class.

“Oh, Nicolle! I can’t believe someone hasn’t given you a clock yet. I mean, we have been starting the classes at the same time since 1864, and yet…”

I heard my entire class smothering a laughter as I gave Mr. William the piece of paper that allowed me to take his class, which was prior given to me by the principal, and, then, I went to my desk.

Today’s history class was about smaller islands and countries all over the world. Internally, I kept telling myself that there was no use to learning all of that, once we lived in a small city closer to New York, so that subject should have been self-explanatory to us and, even though Abeley should be a school for rich people, the greatest part of us, including me, would never travel abroad. Like ever. Let alone stepping on a small island somewhere that was probably built to make money from tourists. Whatever. Mr. William had already had his moment of glory today and I didn’t need a lecture anyways, so I decided to loosen my hair and put on my earphones again, as I kept pretending that I was paying attention.

Everyone’s goal in Abeley was to get into an Ivy League and, for the unlucky ones like me, the ultimate goal was to get a scholarship or a way out of this town. It felt weird not knowing what to do or what I’d like to become, but when people ask me about what I would like to be when I grow up, I used to lie and say I’d like to become a lawyer. Knowing my dad’s behavior, it would make total sense and that was enough to get me out of that subject during conversations, after being told that I should “hang in there” in order to become what I used to say.

The truth was that it would be enough if I turned eighteen and convinced my father that we should leave this town or state. To build a new life in which we weren’t pity case or a subject to gossip spreaders.

Tiffany&Thommy was a library and bookstore two blocks away from my school. It used to be owned by two brothers who have lived here since the city was founded, and I was a part-timer there. After Mr. Thommy Picket’s death, his sister needed help and I offered myself, as I needed money because my dad’s salary as a Spanish teacher was not something we could brag about.

I apologized for being late to Miss Picket and she (with her always pleasing humor) told me to find my computer and sit down before her nephew could find the cash register and steal everything they’ve made so far, like he did last month,

“Good evening, Nick. Are you early again?” I hear Rupert saying with his annoying British accent. He was sitting on my chair, staring at me with his weird brown eyes and dark hair.

“Yes, Rupert. And thank you for keeping my seat warm. Now you can go.” The best solution with him was to use irony and sarcasm. After all, wanting or not, he was the future owner of that store and his aunt wasn’t looking that good anyway.

“I don’t know why my aunt keeps you here. Or why did she hire you in the first place.”

“Your aunt knows me since I was born, we live in the same neighborhood and she trusts me.” I was as rough as possible and then started to browse through the record book on the decrepit computer.

He kept there, looking at what I was doing, as he was laying on the counter. I waited until he left for five minutes, but I was never known for my patience.

“So? Do you want a book or something?” I asked, trying to smile.

“Not really.” he replied and kept staring at me. Then, he nodded and left.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, while I watched him leave.

On my way home, I decided to open the present given by George when I was already on the bus. It was a little pendant shaped like a heart. Those in which you can put a picture on both sides. I loved it. I’m going to choose a picture of me and my dad, I thought as I got off the bus.

The weather was terrible as always and the fog made me put on my hood. When I was close to my building, I saw a man wearing a suit leaving and getting in a luxury black car that was parked on the other side of the street. I had no idea someone in town had something to do with the White House, I thought, trying not to laugh as I passed by the lobby.

The elevator was, once again, being fixed and it would take at least forty-eight hours return, so I went up the stairs hearing some of my neighbors complaining about the elevator like that would fix it faster.

After finding my keys, I saw my dad sitting on his armchair that, this time, was facing the door. He looked more tired and sadder than usual and was holding a letter.

“Dad?” I called, leaving my backpack in the hall and getting closer to him.

“Oh, Nick, you’re here” he answered and I could see that his eyes looked swollen and red. He has cried. I sighed and looked at the table, but I didn’t see any beer bottles there.

“What happened?”

“I need to talk to you. And I ordered pizza, so you don’t need to cook today. Change your clothes and take a bath, I know you must be tired.”

“That’s okay, dad. I’m fine” I claimed, feeling a little bit afraid.

He didn’t say anything else, just stood up and went to his room. I kept staring at him while he closed the door.

Ordering pizza on my birthday was almost a habit, but the conversation part… I started to bite my upper lip and picked up my backpack on the floor, but refused to take a bath. I felt nervous and anxious and waited to hear if his bedroom door would open so that I could leave mine.

When I left, he was in the living room. He had opened and served himself with a pizza slice and soda. He looked a little better as he smiled, so I sat down.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” It was all he said, giving me a sad smile. We started to eat after that.

After I finished, I felt like something bad was about to happen and I realized he was looking at me, God knows for how long, and that the letter he was previously holding was still there, in his hand. I stopped and looked at him, wanting to know for how long he would stare without saying anything.

A couple minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to me. Then, he finally started:

“Nick, did I talk about your mom yesterday?”

I took a deep breath and felt a little bit relieved to realize that it wasn’t something that important after all. I was used to that kind of conversation, even though it made me sad, since he usually stood up for her in the end.

“Yes, dad, but just the usual, you know, blond, tall, smelled like mint” I remembered while I was taking my dish and got up.

“Nicolle, sit down, please” he stared at me with his blue eyes and it looked like it was an order.

I had no idea what was going on, but if it was serious enough for my dad to boss me around…

“Okay.” I agreed, sitting down again.

He looked like he was trying to control himself so that he could continue his speech.

“Nick, you know your mom handed you in when you were only six months, right?” he asked and I nodded, leaning on the couch. “Child, what I have to say is serious and I need you to handle it until the very end.”

He paused. The pizza I ate started to move around in my stomach, bothering me.

“Your mom didn’t leave you here because she wanted to, but because she needed to keep you away from the place she lived in. She had to leave you here, with me, so that I could take care of you and make you a good person. When I met her, we spent the whole week together. She told me about her world and I realized it wasn’t easy. Our story wasn’t just a concert and a single night, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Actually, I’m sorry about everything I have to tell you today… You can’t imagine how much it hurts to tell everything like this. But the point is: she loved you, as much as I do love you. And last week, I discovered that unfortunately your mom has passed away.” He told me with every strength he had, even though he let some tears roll down his cheeks, which he cleaned fast. Then, he took a box from the table, one I haven’t seen before, opened it and showed me everything that was inside.

“I thought that it wasn't a good idea to tell you, dear. You always seemed hurt about your mom, but, then, today I received a message and now I have no other choice but to tell you the truth. The man that came here earlier wanted to wait for you, but I begged him to let me speak with you first. I needed to tell you the whole story. You’ve probably already studied about Europe and must know that there are a lot of small countries there. Your mom lived in one of those countries. Actually, your mom ruled one of them. When I met her, she had just received a convocation to claim the throne of Combellmont and, like any 18-year-old girl, she wanted… An adventure before her real life began. Like in the romances she used to read.

“We met when I went to live in New York. She came on a trip, running away from her hotel, and we met in the middle of Central Park. It was love at first sight and we had the best week in the world. Nine days, to be exact, but she always needed to go back and sleep at the hotel, so I left her on the street corner so that the guard that escorted her would be aware of me. Until the last day, when her sister saw and denounced us. She was grounded after that and I got beaten up by her guards. And well, I thought I’d never see her again, so needless to say it was a surprise when she came back, fifteen months later, knocking on my old Brooklyn apartment with you in her arms. She asked me to take care of you, keeping you safe and sound, away from her world. She asked me to give you a normal life until the day she would come back and explain everything. That she would do it once you turned 18… I wished she had time to do that…

“Ever since, I could only watch you grow and kept collecting everything that I saw about her. Her marriage with an ambassador that was twice her age, her coronation as queen, the birth to her first child for the media, the death of her husband and, most recently, her own death, not long after giving birth to her second child. Oh, Nick, I would have loved to tell you all of this at the right time, but it so happens that you need to know it now. This afternoon, your mom’s kingdom counselor came in and brought this letter to you. You see: with her death, it would be pleasing if her oldest royal child ascended to the throne, but she’s only a kid! And as you are, in fact, the oldest of them all… They demand you there for some kind of training. And, being crystal clear: you are obligated to do this, or they will appeal to judicial measures to make you do it anyway. They can even take you by force, Nick.” After hearing all of that, I ran to the bathroom. My head was spinning, my face was wet with sweat and tears, and I wanted to throw up every slice of pizza I ate. My dad didn’t even dare to chase me, he just let me go.

I was overwhelmed, to say the least. My head was exploding with the wave of information I’ve received and I’ve never been so shocked in my entire life. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed there, hiding, puking, crying. I was hugging my knees against my chest, just hearing my heartbeats. How come my life turned upside down in less than one hour? My mom, a queen. Country, children, baby, my dad, kingdom… Those words were spinning in my head and making me dizzy. How come my father hid everything from me? How come my mom found it better that way? And, mainly, what was I supposed to do now? I had no clue how someone could actually obligate me to do something, after all, besides taking care of my father and the house, I’ve never had to lead, or been a leader.

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/romance/748079?utm_source=shared_web

https://www.wattpad.com/story/274223573-the-lost-princess

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usual-day-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Let Me Touch Your Fire (Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader) Chapter Eight

MASTERLIST

Dustin grabbed your arm and harshly pulled you back inside closing the gate.

"Ouch!" You exclaimed touching your arm as you glared at your brother.

"Are you insane!?" He exclaimed "They could've barged in any moment!"

"Jeez! Sorry" you said, "It's just... they are gone" tears fell down again "And it's my fault! I could've done something! Helped them close the door, Steve, he pushed me and Robin, oh Robin I hope she's okay, what if they kill them before we get help? Oh god I don't know what do anymore I just-"

Dustin grabbed your shoulders tightly and shook "Calm down!" he exclaimed not letting go of your shoulders "No one's going to die, you hear me? We'll come up with something! You need to be calm so we can get the shit outta here"

You stared at him speechless "I know you are worried, I am too, but we need to stick together and come up with a plan to save them before it's too late"

You nodded and he finally let you go.

"For now, let's crawl around and find and exit" Dustin started, and Erica followed, with you behind both kids.

Footsteps above you echoed around the vents as you crawled around, trying to keep the tears and negative thoughts away. You could hear Erica and Dustin talking and you tried to listen to their conversation to keep you distracted but it was harder with every passing second.

You found yourselves stuck, Dustin was trying to open a panel to stop the moving fan so you could continue moving, you felt more relaxed now as you heard Dustin talking to Erica about what happened with the Demodogs.

"By 'we' you are including Lucas?" Erica sounded unconvinced and you smiled breathing a little loudly through your nose.

"Of course," Dustin looked at Erica for a moment and went back to the task at hand

"So, all that shit you told me, Lucas was there?"

Dustin nodded

"Really? My brother? Lucas Sinclair?"

"Yes!" Dustin's voice was louder now, your smile widened. You remembered how Lucas was always the most fearful of the group, you guessed that hadn't changed thanks to Erica's doubt, but you believed Dustin, if he said Lucas was there, then Lucas was there.

"I don't believe you" she finally said, and you giggled.

"Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother's involvement?"

It was hilarious, really, how could Erica believe that sci-fi story and not his brother's involvement was beyond you, but at least it made you laugh while everything else around you seemed to fall apart in chaos.

"That's correct" she said with a nod.

"Makes total sense" to your surprise Dustin agreed, your suspicions were true after all, he was still the same fearful kid as all those years ago.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked, your voice barely audible and a little raspy.

"No" he said, and you shrugged, letting him continue. Erica was having none of that though.

"Well, it's taking a while so-" she said

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock" Dustin looked annoyed as hell.

"All right, so if we don't find a more efficient method to stop these fans, we are never gonna find help and your ice cream buddies are screwed"

Your breath hitched and you looked at Dustin, fear flooding your eyes, what if she was right? He noticed but said nothing turning his attention to Erica once again.

"Yeah, with that attitude, they are"

"I'm just being realistic. I mean, we've made it about point-three miles in nine hours. Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I'd estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately twelve-and-a-half days"

Dustin and you exchanged surprised looks and looked back at Erica.

"Did you just do all that in your head?" you said with an incredulous tone.

"I'm good with numbers" she answered.

"Holy shit" Dustin exclaimed "You are nerd"

"What?"

"You... are... a... nerd"

"Okay" Erica said "You better take that back nerd"

"Can't put the truth back in the box" you said with a shrug and a playful smile appeared on your face as she stared at you wide eyed.

"But it's not the truth" she argued.

"Let's examine the facts, shall we?" Dustin said "Fact one: you are a math whiz, apparently"

"That was a pretty straightforward equation"

"Fact number two" Dustin ignored her and continued "You're a political junkie"

You remembered her speech at Scoops, Dustin was right.

"Just because I do not agree with Communism as an ideology-"

"Fact number three: you love My Little Pony" Dustin grabbed Erica's backpack.

"And what does that have to do with this?" she grabbed her backpack and placed it beside her.

"Ah, let's go back to the ponies' last adventure, okay?" You kept silent, eager to see where this conversation was going "The evil centaur team and Tirek turns Applejack into a dragon at Midnight castle, and then Megan and the other ponies have to use Moochick's magic to defeat his rainbow of darkness, saving them from a lifetime of enslavement"

You snickered; Erica's face was priceless.

"All the pink of the world cannot disguise the irrefutable fact that centaurs and castles and dragons and magic are all standard nerd tropes. So, My Little Pony, is, in fact, nerdy and you, Erica, are a nerd"

"And how do you know so much about My Little Pony?" she asked placing her hand under her chin.

"Because, I'm..." Dustin finally grabbed the panel's small door "A nerd" he finished and pulled at the cables making the fan stop completely.

"Let's go, nerd" you moved and looked back at Erica as she glared at Dustin for his comment. You smiled.

"Show off" you whispered at Dustin and he smirked at you, crawling ahead to lead the group once again.

Steve groaned as he received another punch. How come every time weird shit happened again, he always got beaten somehow? First Jonathan, then Billy and now some Russian soldier? Just when he thought he had finally won his first fight...

"That one stung" he gasped for air as he looked up again.

"Who do you work for?"

"For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy!" his voice sounded desperate as he gasped for air, repeating the name of the company that hired him. However, the officer did not seem to believe any word that left his lips.

Another punch, but this time on his stomach. He grunted in pain "What the hell?! Look at my outfit!" he exclaimed, he was out of ideas "Do you think I wear this for fun or something? You think I'm a spy in a sailor's uniform?" Maybe he shouldn't have said the last part, but he didn't care anymore, his head was spinning, and his body and face ached like hell. Another punch, same place, he closed his eyes and grunted.

"How did you get in?"

"I already told you" he said between gaps "My delivery didn't come and my friends and I thought that it was left at the loading dock, so we went in the room, and then it turned into an elevator, and then... and then we dropped and then, next thing we know, I open my eyes, and we're in this... wonderful facility. I swear to God, nobody knows about it, nobody saw us. You could just let us go, all right? We are not gonna tell anyone about this, we promise. Shit happens, life goes on. And, uh... ice- ice cream. Everyone loves ice cream, right? I don't if you have Russian ice cream or if that is considered gelato. But whatever you want, seriously. USS Butterscotch, you gotta try it"

The officer looked at him, he felt those eyes bury into his soul as he finished, almost trembling with fear.

The soldiers in the room laughed with the officer, Steve laughed nervously with them.

Maybe they finally believed him, and now, they were gonna let them go and they'd just forget about this and he'd be able to continue his normal life.

His hopes died when the officer asked again: "Who do you work for?"

He pleaded and the last thing he felt, were hard knuckles against his cheekbone before everything went black.

The soldiers dragged Steve to another room. Throwing him inside.

Two more soldiers were dragging Robin too. She was struggling and screaming, telling them to let her go, but they threw her inside anyway. She landed painfully on her back next to Steve. She quickly sat up, calling Steve's name only to find he was unconscious. She tried to wake him up as the door opened. She looked up; eyes full of anger.

"What did you do to him?" she said.

The officer slapped her across the face, and she fell back again with a grunt. She whimpered as the same soldiers that dragged her inside picked her up again. "Don't touch me!"

They sat her down harshly and she grunted again, her back pressed against Steve's.

"Steve, wake up" she tried again "Steve!"

They tied them up, Robin trashed around trying to break free.

The officer walked towards Steve and pulled his head up by his hair.

"Don't touch him!" she said.

He clicked his tongue and let Steve go; his head fell.

"Steve! Can you hear me?"

He walked around them, "I think your friend need a doctor" his voice thick with a Russian accent, Robin's stomach churned. He stopped in front of her, her angry stare never leaving his frame "Good thing we have the best ones here" The officer laughed and looked at the soldiers, they laughed with him and Robin snapped, spitting across his face.

He pulled out a handkerchief and washed the spit away, glaring daggers at Robin, she glared back.

"You are going to regret that little bitch"

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them down, breathing heavily as the officer said something in Russian and walked away, the soldiers behind him.

"Bastards" she followed them with her gaze "Let us out of here!" she kept screaming and the door closed loudly, leaving her alone with Steve unconscious against her back.

Dustin pulled aside the gate and you stood up looking around. You looked around the room, it was full of the green goo the elevator transported.

The three of you stepped outside and continued to look around. You watched Dustin walk away and walked behind him next to Erica, you smiled as you saw a small red car in front of you.

"Do you even know how to drive?" Erica asked as Dustin grabbed the steering wheel

"How hard can it be? Max did it" Dustin sat inside, ready to drive.

"What the hell Dustin? I'm driving" you said standing next to him, crossing your arms across your chest frowning.

Dustin ignored you completely "Aw, come on" you looked over his shoulder to see that the key was missing, obviously.

"You seriously thought they were going to leave the key there?" Erica said.

"There's gotta be a spare somewhere" Dustin answered looking around the car. Erica sighed and walked away. You watched her look around and decided to help Dustin with the missing key.

"Dustin?"

"Yeah?" he answered, not looking away, he stepped out to keep looking for a key.

"How big did you say the Demogorgon was?"

"Nine feet or so, why?" he turned to look at the table next to the car. Erica did not answer, and you kept looking, Dustin doing the same.

"Found them" Dustin said and you looked up with a smile.

"Great!" you said a frown replacing your smile as you noticed that Erica was missing.

"Erica?" Dustin and you said in unison and jumped when an electric sound answered you. You looked towards Dustin and found Erica holding weapon.

"What the hell is that?" Dustin asked and you tried to steady your heartbeat placing your hand on your chest and closing your eyes, taking deep breaths.

"A deadly weapon" she answered, "Could be useful" She turned it on again and Dustin jumped back in surprise.

Erica had a point.

"For what?" Dustin asked and looked at you.

"We could help our friends" she said.

"Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd"

She rolled her eyes and walked away "We don't even know where they are, and even if we knew, there are probably a million guards there with weapons way deadlier than that"

Erica got inside the car, Dustin followed her as he talked "The best we can do for them is to get out of here and find help"

Dustin had a point too, but what if something bad happens to them while you try to escape?

He sat on the driver’s seat, you cleared your throat and raised an eyebrow, he huffed and gave you keys, making more room for you "Just trust me on this one okay?" he said as you sat down and started the car.

You wanted to trust him, you really did, but your instinct was telling you something else.

Steve felt calm, it has been a while since he last felt like that before. He opened his eyes slowly, a hand softly playing with his hair and he hummed, he tried to sit up, but his body ached, he hissed.

"Easy there tiger" a voice said, and he met E/C eyes and a warm smile "Y/N?"

"Come on, dingus" her palm was against his cheek and he leaned into her touch, not really feeling anything. A scream echoed around, you looked away from him and pulled your hand away, standing up, his head fell against the blanket underneath him.

"You have to go" you said, the wind moving your hair around as he watched you.

"What?" he asked, trying to move again, his body didn't respond. You started walking away and he screamed your name.

"Open your eyes Steve" he heard you whisper, and you were gone, the screams got louder, and his head ached.

Robin could hear her screams echoing, her throat was sore, but she kept screaming, hoping someone would come in and saved them.

"Would you stop yelling?" she heard Steve's voice and relaxed immediately. She looked his way and then up at the ceiling.

"Steve! Oh my god" she panted and called his name again. "Are you okay?" she asked when he didn't reply.

"My ears are ringing, and I can't really breathe. My eye feels like it's about to pop out of my skull, but apart from that I'm doing pretty good" his voice was raspy, he really sounded like shit.

"Well, the good news is that they are calling you a doctor" she chuckled, trying to lighten up the somber mood. Steve looked up.

"Is this his workplace? Because I love the vibe" he answered and Robin chuckled again, glad Steve was conscious and joking around with her.

"You see that table over there to your right?" Steve looked at the wrong direction "Your other right" Robin corrected, and Steve looked "You see those scissors?"

"Uh-huh"

"Maybe if we move at the same time, we'll be able to get over there and maybe I can kick the table and knock them into your lap"

"And I could cut the binds" Steve said

"Yeah, and then we'll get out of here"

"Gotcha, we can do that"

"Yeah, I can't believe it! Those morons just left the scissors there" Steve's voice sounded more awake, and even a little happy.

"Total morons" Robin agreed with a laugh "Okay, on the count of three we are gonna hop"

"Okay, okay, I gotcha"

"One, two, three" they moved. Relief washed over them, Robin's plan started smoothly and hopefully will end just like that. They counted together and moved again.

"This is gonna work!" Robin exclaimed, a huge smile on her lips

"We're almost there. Ready?" They counted together again but when they moved the chair slipped and they fell on the floor, both groaned in pain. Robin laughed softly.

"It's okay, it's okay" Steve tried to look at her "Don't cry" Robin giggled louder and Steve frowned "Are you laughing?" he asked

"I'm sorry! I just, I can't believe I'm going to die in a secret Russian base with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington"

"We're not gonna die, we're gonna get out of here, okay?" Steve ignored the nickname and focused instead of thinking about a new plan.

"Do you remember, those school band concerts to gain extra points?" Robin's voice made him stop thinking.

"What?"

"The charity concerts, that's what us band dweebs called them" Robin looked towards Steve, a fond smile on her face as she remember her younger years at school "We organized them every year so the kids that needed extra points would have a chance to pass. You'd always go, with your friends"

Steve kept quiet.

"I played in the band; I'd always watch you take your usual seat every single year. Mister cool... the King of Hawkins himself. Do you even remember me? Or her?" her tone was sad when she finished the sentence and Steve wondered who the other girl was, she was talking about. He kept quiet, guilt spreading through his body.

She chuckled softly "Of course you don't. You were a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know"

"But it didn't matter that you were an ass. I was still obsessed with you" she admitted "Us losers, we just wanted to feel accepted, normal..."

"If it makes you feel better, everything that everyone says, what you should or care about, Its total bullshit. But I guess you gotta mess up before to figure things out"

"I hope so" she said "I feel like my whole life has been one big error"

Steve laughed "Yep"

"At least it can't get any more messed up than this" she smiled, maybe if they got out, she'd have a second chance and she'd finally be able to make everything right.

They laughed.

"I wish I had known you before" He said "I'd have passed all my classes and maybe I'd be on my way to college instead of being trapped here"

"And I'd have no idea that a Russian base was underneath this and I'd be slinging ice cream with some other idiot" Both teens chuckled, Robin's eyes stung, and she blinked away the tears.

"It was fun while it lasted"

"It was"

Buzzing sounds filled the room and the door was open again. Steve and Robin looked towards the sound rapidly. The officer looked down at them

"Where were you two going?" his voice sounded almost playful and he clicked his tongue in a scolding manner. The other soldiers placed them up again.

"Try telling the truth this time. That'll make your visit with the doctor less painful" The officer moved the hair out of Steve's eyes and then grabbed his chin. He winced in pain and the officer chuckled, his gaze moved towards the doctor and he nodded. The doctor moved towards them and Steve panicked.

"Wait a second. Hold on" his pleas were ignored again, he looked at the syringe the doctor was holding, his heart racing "What the hell is that thing?"

"It will help you talk" the answer was simple; the doctor grabbed his hair and pulled his head, so his neck was exposed. Steve screamed when he felt the syringe pierce the skin on his neck.

The Russian guys were gone just as fast as they arrived. They have been alone for a few minutes.

"Honestly, I don't feel anything" Steve broke the silence, his tongue touching his lips "Do you?"

"I guess I... I feel fine" Robin answered

"I kinda feel good" Steve admitted, and they laughed.

"Wanna know a secret? I like it too" they continued laughing. The door opened again, and the officer stepped inside with the doctor trailing behind him. Steve's gaze moved between the doctor and the officer.

"Would now be a good time to say that I don't like doctors?" Robin said shaking her head, she watched the doctor place knifes and other materials that were obviously for torture.

"Let's try this again" Steve nodded, "Who do you work for?"

"Scoops" he chuckled "Scoops Ahoy" Robin chuckled too, the officer glared at them.

"How did you find us?"

"By accident"

The officer looked at the doctor and said something in Russian. Robin watched him grab some tweezers. He walked towards Steve and grabbed his fingers. Steve panicked again

"No! Wait!" he screamed.

"There was a code! We heard a code!" Robin's voice made them stop.

"What code?" The officer walked in front of her, she repeated the code and exclaimed how they found the signal with cerebro, a mocking tone and a smile.

"And now people know you are here"

"Who knows?" the officer was angry

"Uhm, Dustin knows and Y/N" Steve said.

"Hey, Steve" he ignored her

"Yeah, Dustin and Y/N Henderson"

"Ugh! Steve"

"Henderson" the officer repeated "Are they brothers? The curly haired boy and an older girl with H/C?"

"Curly haired. Great hair and his sister is just so beautiful" he answered

"Where are they?"

"They're long gone asshole. And they are probably calling Hopper and he's probably calling his cop friends" he laughed "They're gonna come in here and kick your asses back to Russia"

"Is that so?" he said with a smirk

"Yeah" Robin and Steve laughed, the officer and the doctor laughed darkly.

Alarms blared around the facility and everyone looked towards the door. Their laughing stop, the officer looked at Steve and he shrugged his shoulder with a triumphant smile.

Everyone was yelling in Russian outside as the officer walked away. Dustin opened the door and yelled, using the weapon against the doctor. He fell unconscious on the floor. You rushed towards Steve and Robin, starting to untie them.

"Hendersons!" they screamed happily at you. You kept untying them and Dustin quickly helped you "Crazy, I was just talking about you" tears blurred your vision as you met Steve's gaze, his face was a mess, you looked rapidly at Robin and calmed down a little as you noticed she was fine, not a single bruise or cut on her face. Dustin nudged you and you pushed your thoughts aside to help Dustin. You wanted to say something, but the lump in your throat made the task completely impossible, Dustin saw your struggle and talked.

"Get ready to run" he said and pulled the strain harder, breaking it. It fell to the ground and you held your bread.

It was time for step two.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things

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mlovesstories · 4 years

Text

Silent

Warnings: death of parent, foster care, cussing

Words: 2400

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“We found your father,” The caseworker told the girl sitting in front of her.

“Just effing leave me here, lady!”

“His name is-“

“Jensen Ackles, I know.”

“Oh? Well, we have contacted him. He will be here next week,” the older female pursed her lips.

“He doesn’t care, just-“ she stopped. The girl slumped her shoulders and stormed off to her temporary room.

——————

“Hi,” she walked up to the tall man with green eyes.

“Hi, Charlotte. Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah. Totally fine. My mom didn’t just die or anything.” Charlotte raised her voice quickly.

“That was a dumb question,” Jensen conceded. He sat down across from her at her foster home.

“Just leave me here, Hollywood. And my name is Charlie.” She tried to stand. He touched her hand.

“Sorry. I just want this to be as smooth for you as possible.”

“You have three little kids and a perfect wife. Why would you want me?”

“Because I’m your dad-“ he saw her shutter at the title. “I’m your father. You don’t really want to bounce around from house to house with that-“ he motioned to her foster parent eating pizza and drinking beer, ignoring the children around him, “do you?”

“I deserve it. It’s fine. My life is over anyway,” she shrugged.

“Bullshit, kid. You are twelve. Fine, I get that you don’t know me. No one deserves this though. Especially after-“

“Don’t, Hollywood.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “Let’s go then.” She stood up and stormed out. CPS agents walked out with him to a transport vehicle.

“I didn’t know. She didn’t tell me about you,” Jensen admitted. “If I knew, I would have been there.”

“Whatever, Actor Boy. Just get me outta here,” Charlie sighed and looked out the window.

———-

“Ahh!” Charlie sat up in her bed. “Just a dream,” she said to herself.

“Charlie?” Jensen knocked and pushed open her door.

“I’m okay, Dad.”

“Flashbacks?”

“Yeah,” she sat up in her bed.”At least it was all true this time, I guess.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” He touched her cheek.

“My fault,” she moved away.

“It’s not. That guy hurt you guys. Not you. I’m not having this conversation when your heart rate is this high,” Jensen said quietly. “Lie down. I’ll wait till you fall back asleep.” He sat on the edge of her bed. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“I’m too hyped, I can’t,” Charlie rolled over.

Jensen saw the creases in her forehead. He started to sing.

“You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey. You’re as sweet as strawberry wine.”

Charlie was asleep within seconds.

———-

“Oh!” Charlie screamed. She took a calming breath. “Sorry,” she shied away.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Danneel rubbed her shoulders. “My bad. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Danneel walked to the stove from where Charlie was sitting and plopped some eggs on the stove top.

“It won’t go away,” Charlie put her head in her hands.

“It’s only been a year, sweetheart. It takes time,” Danneel looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Charlie. “Jay said you had a bad dream again. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s my fault.”

“That man took your mom. Not you. Yes, you guys went into the store because you wanted a soda, but HE was the one that decided to make a bad choice and-“

“Stop!” Charlie shrieked. She took deep breaths.

“That wasn’t smart of me, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Danneel pursed her lips.

“Can I just have some eggs please?”

“Yes. Of course.”

________

“She got in trouble at school again,” Danneel told Jensen via phone.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, threw a fit in class, I guess,” Danneel sighed.

“Has she been hanging out with her mentor lady?”

“Monica has been sick. Big Brothers/Big Sisters hasn’t supplied a sub while she has been gone.”

“Yeah. She has regressed a lot, but it’s okay. We’ll get through it. Hey, why don’t you invite her to set. Charlie would love it.”

“She calls me Hollywood, Dee. She wouldn’t.” Jensen rolled his eyes. Danneel could hear it through the phone.

“Ask her. Spring Break is coming up anyway.”

“Fine, Dearest.”

_________

“Hey, Char!” Jensen smiled into his iPhone. She laughed at his huge scar across his face.

“Dean looks hurt a little.”

“Speaking of, I have a question for you,” Jensen changed tones.

“Oh?” She walked into her room and sat down on her bed.

“You know how we made you get a passport?”

“Umm- yeah?” Charlie gave a grin. Her eyes filled with anticipation.

“Well…” he stopped short.

“Tell me!” She nervously giggled.

“Would you like to come up to Vancouver next week with me?” He held his breath.

“REALLY?” Charlie beamed.

“If you want to.”

“YES!”

“Awesome. Well, I can’t wait. I’m excited that you are excited.” Jensen inwardly became thrilled. “I can’t wait to show you everything. Just don’t hang out with anyone and pull shenanigans, you hear me?” He raised a brow. “And no more reports from school, got it?”

“You heard about that?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t-“

“Whatever happened is done, sweetie. Let’s start over. Good day tomorrow, okay?” He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Why do you forgive me so much?” Charlie confusedly watched his face on the screen.

“Because no one is perfect. Charlie, you’re thirteen. You’re still trying to figure things out, but that’s why I thought it might be a change of pace for you.”

“I can’t wait!” Charlie pumped her fist in the air which moved the phone away from her face.

“Sweetheart!” Jensen yelled to get her attention.

“Oh, sorry! When can I get on the plane?”

________

Charlie felt like a rockstar sitting in first class. When she got off the plane, a driver was waiting for her with a sign that had her name on it.

“I’m Charlie.” She walked up to the woman who looked very business-like.

“Great. Do you have checked bags, Miss?”

“What does that mean?” Charlie had never heard that term before.

“Did you give the airline any of your bags before you boarded?”

“Oh, no I didn’t.”

“Perfect. Then we are good to go. Follow me.” The driver escorted Charlie to the shiny black car.

“Fancy,” she whispered.

“Only the best for Mr. Ackles,” the driver responded.

“You know Jensen? I thought one of his Hollywood people organized this.”

“I pick him and Mr. Padalecki up from the airport often. They are good men. I’m sure you know that. He is your dad after all,” she assumed.

“He’s not my- nevermind.” Charlie bit her lip.

“Miss, we will be arriving in about ten minutes or so.”

——————-

“Hey, Charlie!” Jensen met her at the cub-side drop off.

“Hi, Dad,” she quietly wrapped her arms around him.

“How was your flight?”

“Good.”

“Thanks, Tamera, for bringing her here.” He nodded to the driver. “I can take her backpack.” He offered his hand to accept Charlie’s luggage.

“Have a good evening,” she waved and climbed back into her vehicle.

“Let’s get upstairs.”

She followed him as he entered his keycard and passcodes along the way. She spun around in the lobby mesmerized by the grand architecture. Charlie walked quickly to keep up with her father as they reached his apartment.

“6A, home sweet home,” he smiled.

“Wow. How do you get groceries up here? Must be daunting.”

“Eh. Usually it’s just me, so it’s not that hard,” Jensen walked her to a spare bedroom. “This one is yours. Hope you like it.” He twisted the knob and let the door swing open lightly.

“Wow! For me?” Charlie ran and jumped on the bed. There were pictures of her with the family and her with her mom throughout the room. Her drawing hung on the wall as decoration. “Thank you!” Charlie got off the bed and ran into his arms. “It’s perfect!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I love you,” he squeezed her tightly.

“I love you too, Dad. Thanks for the pictures of Mom. I-“ Charlie abruptly stopped.

“Of course. She’s your mom and a big part of your life. She has to be here too! Come on, let’s get some food.”

————

“Daddy!” YN tried to get his attention. “Jensen!” At the restaurant, she ran into the restroom when she realized Jensen wasn’t going to turn around. When he realized she wasn’t there, he scanned the business. He texted her, willing that she was safe.

“Bathroom,” was all she responded with. “Not coming out.”

Jensen walked to the door and knocked.

“Occupied!” YN yelled.

“YN. Talk to me.”

She slowly cracked it open, scanning the room.

“I- I saw her.” YN slowly opened her arms and wrapped herself around her father. She went on to explain that she thought her mom was sitting across the restaurant. “I thought I saw Mommy.”

“It’s okay. That’s normal, I promise,” he whispered into her hairline. “Let’s go.”

They got their food to go, and they went home.

“We gotta get up early tomorrow, okay?”

“Ugh,” she whined. “What time?”

“4:30.”

“AM?!”

“Yep. It will be worth it, I promise,” he smiled.

“Fine,” she groaned playfully. “I’m going to bed then. Love you, Dad.”

————

“What…?” Jensen opened his daughter’s door to wake her up when he saw blankets and pillows everywhere. She rubbed her red eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams.”

“You slept on the floor?”

“I couldn’t sleep. So I changed locations. Is it time to go?” She yawned.

“This is your wake up call. You’ve got an hour. You can sleep in my trailer if you want to,” he helped her off the ground.

“Okay,” YN started picking up all of her bedding.

“Don’t worry about that. Just get dressed. We can deal with that later.”

After the two got ready, they were picked up to go to the set. YN fell asleep against Jensen’s shoulder. He took a selfie and sent it to Danneel.

Jensen:

Vancouver really tires her out!

Danneel:

No sleep?

Jensen:

Nope. I’ll let her sleep in my trailer. She’ll be fine, D.

Danneel:

Okay. Love you.

———-

“YN, wake up,” Jensen whispered. “Let’s go.”

Walking onto the set, she saw Jared and opened her arms to him.

“Hey, YN. Glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” she smiled appreciatively.

“Get some breakfast and then you can crash. We won’t be ready for a while,” Jensen nodded toward the food truck.

“I want to see everything though,” YN whined.

“We go through Makeup and all that a million times a day. It’s okay. You want eggs? Chicken?”

“Chicken for breakfast?”

“In the breakfast burrito.”

“Oh. Sure. Thanks,” she shrugged.

——

“That was awesome! So that’s how you get all those cuts on you! Can I get one?” YN asked Jensen but scanned over to the makeup artist.

“”Ugh. How did I know you would ask that?” Jensen chuckled. “Fine. But you can’t text Dee and tell her you got hurt, or you’ll never be able to come back here, you hear me?”

“Okay! Promise!”

YN sat in the makeup chair and waited for the makeup artist to get started.

“ONE only,” Jensen clearly stated. “One scar. You will not walk out of here looking like death warmed over, you hear me?” He looked to the stylist behind the chair.

“Got it,” the makeup artist nodded.

—————-

“Look how cool this is!” YN walked out of the trailer and stood next to her dad. She smiled, showing off a gash that crossed her face.

“DO NOT tell Danneel you got beat up. Why did you have to get it on your pretty face?” Jensen whined at her.

“I texted her a picture in the makeup chair. She thought it was awesome,” YN grinned.

“Oh my go-“ Jared walked up to YN. “What happen-“

Jensen and YN started snickering.

“Haha, so hilarious, you just gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, unkie!” She opened her arms and wrapped them around Jared’s waist. “But doesn’t it look so cool?!”

“Totally. Come on, your dad and I need to do this shot.” He guided her to the set.

_______

“Come here! Today is a big day!” Jensen opened the door to YN’s room.

“Dad, I don’t feel like doing anything today,” she said.

“It’s my day off! And it’s just you and me! I want to take you to this restaurant, I think you’ll really like it. It’s-”

“No, thank you.”

“Why? You have been having so much fun so far. What happened?” He slowly walked into her room as she sat up but pulled the blankets closer to her chin.

“Not today. Please. Today is-” YN started sniffling.

“Oh, dang it. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the date. I should have- I’m sorry. How can I help you today? I knew your mom had been on your mind lately, but I just plain forgot, sweetheart.”

“I don’t really know, Daddy,” YN said quietly. “We can go to your restaurant if you want though,” she tried to appease him.

“No, we need to do what you want to do.”

“Umm. Watch Disney movies?”

“Sure, pancakes for breakfast?” Jensen smiled, knowing that she would agree to it.

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll leave you to wake up some. Don’t worry about getting ready. Today is Pajama Day,” Jensen smirked.

__________

“How’s this?” Jensen pulled a bunch of blankets out of the closet and grabbed some extra pillows.

“Perfect. Can we watch Snow White? It’s my favorite. It was hers too.”

“Absolutely, sweetness.”

He pulled her into his side, turned on the TV, and bought the movie off of iTunes. Jensen could feel her relax against him. He kissed the top of her head as the dad pressed the play button.

YN fell asleep on Jensen’s lap during the movie. He continued stroking her hair as he thought about what the girl had been through.

Her mom loved her. YN didn’t deserve that. She didn’t do anything wrong.

Jensen teared up. As tears welled in his eyes, one hit YN’s cheek.

Crap.

She instinctively wiped her face. Jensen ran a finger under his eye.

Her eyes opened and YN turned to face her dad.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” She sat up.

“Nothing, baby. I just love you so much. You’re beautiful.”

YN took his face in her hands and wiped away his tears.

“I love you too, Daddy.” YN brought her hands down and pulled her blanket over both of them.

“You’re mine.”

“I know, Daddy,” YN smiled.

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#supernatural #mlovesstories #jensen x daughter!reader #danneel x daughter!reader

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raging-violets · 4 years

Text

Stargirl: At All Hours // Rick Tyler

By: Rhuben

Words: 2,829

Note: Kind of a character study for Rick Tyler. This all came together after noticing that Rick walked everywhere.

Also found on: AO3 and FFN

Summary: Rick Tyler has the weight of the world on his shoulders. A weight he never asked for. Managing his grief and anger over his parents' sudden death, his schoolwork, fixing his car to have some sort of reliable transportation, and the nightly calls to pick up his unruly uncle from the bar always had him on the move.

Rick settled back in his chair, one arm draped over the back, and peered up at Principal Bowin unperturbed. His stomach growled. Principal Bowin’s eyebrows lifted. Letting out a humorless laugh, he parted his lips and said, “It’s a stupid box of candy. Barely anyone in this school likes it, let alone buys it.” He used his index finger to jab at the desktop. “It’s on that cart, day after day, and no one touches it.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just take it. Nothing in this life is free, Mr. Harris.”

“Whatever.”

Principal Bowin pursed her lips. She crossed her arms over her chest. A moment later she clasped her hands together in front of her. A tight smile came to her face. She wasn’t going to press the issue any further. It never made a difference. “Maybe you could use this time to think about your actions today.” She then turned on her heels and strode out of the detention room.

Sighing through his nose, Ricky slumped down in his seat. Tilting his head back towards the ceiling, he placed his hands over his face before he pushed his fingers into his hair. A stupid box of Nutty Buddys. That’s what this was all about. He was hungry, didn’t want a stupid room-temperature pre-made “for the kids who can’t afford a lot” sandwich that’s been sitting out all morning. So, he took a box of candy. Big deal. He’d think about his actions all right. He’d think about how he had little money after buying his lunch in the first place, and no one would think twice about a box of candy just sitting out in the open.

It’d last him until the morning, at least. At most, until the next time his uncle Matt could pull himself together long enough to get to the grocery store. Even then, however much he’d manage to get was dependent on how much he spent at the bar each night. It wasn’t the healthiest option, he knew, but it tasted good. The chocolate, the peanut butter, all wrapped around that layer of wafer. Absolutely mouth-watering.

And, it was a nice change from another bowl of ramen. They were even running out of that.

Pulling his gaze from the ceiling, Rick leaned forward in his seat and folded his arms on his desk. He stretched his lower back as he settled his chin on his arms. He flickered his eyes towards the trickle of students coming to serve their own detention, before setting them back onto the chalkboard at the front of the room. Bring your schoolwork. He snorted. As if anyone could focus on their schoolwork when just about everything else was so much more important. Like getting something to eat. His stomach growled again, and he pressed his fist into his stomach.

His days always started about five in the morning. Climbing out of bed, first thing he’d do was pack his bookbag of all the textbooks and the homework he half-finished the night before that lay strewn about his bed. Maybe a pen would be stuck to his cheek. A page ripped out of his notebook from where his leg was strewn across it. A textbook laid across his chest, heavy. It was better, he came to understand, to come to school with some of his homework done than to not bring it at all. It lessened the disappointed stares, and the “I know you can do better” head shakes he would get in response to his mumbled explanation of doing his best. When he bothered to give an explanation at all, anyway.

Quietly stepping into the living room to make sure his uncle was still sleeping, let alone still breathing, Rick would pick up the half-eaten plates of food, crunch over the chips that lay strewn across the carpet, and jostle the cans of Red Bull that sat atop the coffee table – at some point in the night, it had been shoved out of its usual position. Once the mess was cleared away, he’d set out a new, clean glass of water and some aspirin before shaking his uncle awake.

“Wha-whatsgoinon?” Matt asked, managing to lift an eyelid with what Rick could only guess was with great effort.

“Get up,” Rick would reply shortly, swinging his arm out of the way to avoid the slap or punch Matt would aim his way. He had learned to anticipate some aspect of retaliation over the years after showing up at school with a black eye and a cut cheek on a handful of occasions. Most times, Matt usually managed to succeed in a swing and a miss, knocking himself to the floor. Rick had also learned to keep his distance between himself and the nauseous smell of unbrushed teeth and stale alcohol breath…and whatever Matt might have possibly thrown up in the middle of the night. “Get in the shower.”

“Don’ tell me what to do,” Matt grumbled, tucking his arms underneath his chest to push himself up into a seated position. “Get out of my way.”

“Aspirin,” Rick said, indicating the white pills on the table, “Water. Knock yourself out.” Then, he would turn and leave his uncle to his own devices. After taking a quick shower, while there was still warm water, he’d throw on a pair of jeans with faded oil stains (though, he wasn’t sure he even owned anything that wasn’t oil stained by now), grab his shoes that seemed to soak up every inch of water whenever it rained, and throw on a long-sleeved shirt that was starting to stretch out at the collar. He’d step outside to continue his, seemingly, never-ending work on his car.

The very same car his dad had given him a model of the night he died. The model that sat in the center of his dresser. That was clutched tightly in his hand during his funeral. Often he wondered how far he’d be in restoring the old car by now if he had his father there to help him.

It had taken him ages to save up the money to buy the parts he needed. Whenever his uncle remembered to give him allowance for the chores he did around the house, he was able to slowly accrue the parts bit by bit. Luckily, with Blue Valley’s junkyard he was able to get the parts at a decent price – as long as the right sizes and pieces could be found. Even with the fancier cars driving around town, it could be hit or miss at times. With his own interest in fixing cars, he at least didn’t have to worry about the cost of labor – and the occasional library book helped him whenever he got stuck enough (always returned on time to avoid any overdue fines).

He could work for an hour or two before his uncle really managed to get himself up for the day.

Once it was clear his uncle Matt was awake and ready for the day, in the shower or changing in his room, Rick would slip back inside in search for something to eat for breakfast. If there was anything at all. Sometimes there were cold leftovers he could scrounge together. A potato or half-eaten two-day old pizza or something. Sometimes they even had enough milk for a bowl or two of cereal. Toast wasn’t out of the question; the bread was pretty good at settling his stomach from how long it had been since he had last eaten anything.

When Matt was ready to leave for the day, Rick would already be back working on his car. Trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. The car never talked back, at least not with words. Whatever sound it decided to make when he attempted to start it was a pretty good indication of what the next step was in his attempt to bringing it to life. Or lack of sound as the case may be. But all parts had a place, working together to give it motion.

So much unlike the two of them.

Rick was never even offered a ride into town to get to school. And he learned not to ask for it lest he wanted to get the same scathing look he had received every day since the funeral. It was Rick’s fault Matt wasn’t a billionaire. Rick’s fault they weren’t living within their means. Rick’s fault that Matt had to leave whatever it was he was doing to talk to the principal, again, about his anger. The reason why life was hard. The reason why he drank. The reason why he had to go into town every single day in an attempt to find a job lest their $50,000 run out.

If he’s even looking for a job, Rick would think with a roll of his eyes as he watched dust kick up from the rotating tires of Matt’s truck. He’d watch him disappear down the long dirt driveway, a small part of him hoping that it wouldn’t ever return. But, with the house finally his, he’d clean up the living room, remove as much dirt and grime from his face, hands, and clothes as he could, (and when he couldn’t he’d don his dark jacket), and leave to start his long walk to school with his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulder.

Maybe he’d make it to school on time. Maybe he’d show up a few, ten, or fifteen minutes late. Maybe he’d never show up. Maybe one day he could walk right past that tree. But for now, he’d always stop to pay his respects. To mark off another day on this earth without his parents. Another day where his anger churned and roiled so deep inside him, he wasn’t sure if he would ever learn what it was like to just be normal. To not feel like punching out the lights of the first person that looked at him sideways. Or even worse, that pitied him and still did nothing to help. No one ever asked how he was feeling. If he was alright.

He wasn’t. He never would be.

School wasn’t anything he ever really tried hard at. He tried hard not to fall asleep at his desk, sure. He tried hard to stop his stomach from growling so loudly. If he got to school early enough to buy what was left of a breakfast, usually a piece of fruit, it helped a little. There just wasn’t anything of interest he was studying – math was never hard for him, not with how smart his dad was. Blue Valley was a small town, one that most people never really left. And most people didn’t expect him to get into college, anyway. So, why even bother?

Lunch time wasn’t any better. Between forcibly being sequestered at the “Singles” table, listening to Beth Chapel blather on and on and on about whatever to her parents (and she could talk about anything), and Yolanda Montez who would just sigh every few minutes while mindlessly spearing at her salads, it was enough to drive anyone crazy. Still, day after day, he took his usual seat and sat in silence. (He trained himself not to look at the good food Beth seemed to bring in every day –perfectly portioned for herself, not enough to share; not that he’d ask – but through it.) Even if they didn’t talk to each other, there was some comfort in not having to sit by himself anymore. Not that he’d say that out loud. Ever.

Then after school, if he managed not to get a detention that day, he’d start the long trek home, stopping by the local general store for a soda. An energy drink. Anything with enough sugar or caffeine to wake him up long enough to attempt to work on his homework as soon as he got home. However much he could get through with their crappy Wi-Fi. When it got too much, he’d take a break and work on the car again. Dinner was spent by himself. And the people on the TV greeted him with a new episode of whatever hit TV show was airing at the time. Whichever shows he could get on the basic package of cable they could afford. Still, Rick would just flip through the channels, letting his mind wander.

Waiting.

Then he would get the call. “Hey, man, you need to come pick-up your dad. He’s not doing well.” Not doing well. Got into a fight. Threatened to have the police called on him. It didn’t matter. That meant he had to make another trek back into town. Another trip where no one would stop long enough to see if he wanted a ride. Once in Blue Valley he’d have to fight to pull Matt away from the bar, forcing the keys out of his hand, and drive him back home where he would only make it as far as the couch before he passed out. Or the call wouldn’t come, and he’d get back to his homework, trying to stay up, making sure his uncle returned safely only to be jolted awake by the front door crashing open and Matt’s grumbling as he managed to stumble his way inside.

Wash.

Rinse.

Repeat.

But today, there was a small change in his day. Enough to pull him out of autopilot and take notice. Not enough for him to care. Just notice. Today, there was a new girl at school: Courtney. He didn’t know who she was, but the whole school seemed to know she was new. After all, they had all grown up in Blue Valley together. They knew who a familiar face was and who wasn’t.

She wasn’t familiar. She was …too blonde? Too cheerful? Definitely the cheerleader type. And she wanted to join them. At their lunch table. And she was another one that wanted to talk.

He wasn’t about talking. He wasn’t about explaining to anyone knew why he was at the table, why he was considered one of them, the “losers” as Beth had called them. He wasn’t about getting that “I’m so sorry” look of pity again. So, he left. And he grabbed a box of candy on the way out. He was just freaking starving.

Think about my actions? Rick thought with a smirk. Yeah right. Why didn’t everyone else just stop and think for a minute as to why he could possibly do something like this? Then again, everyone thought he was a delinquent, so why not play into that? Be the guy they all thought he was. He knew he had a good reason for all of it. Even if no one else agreed with him. Or even wanted to hear it.

It was one thing in his life that he could control. He didn’t necessarily like detention. But it was quiet. It was an hour after school where he only had himself to worry about. An hour away from any and all responsibilities. An hour where he wasn’t Rick Harris. Not really.

He was just Rick.

Finally.

#stargirl #rick harris #rick tyler #hourman #dc's stargirl #authored by: rhuben #by: rhuben #stargirl ficlet #please reblog if you liked this

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theflashdriver · 4 years

Text

Black, White and Grey

Hey all, its been a little while! Here’s a new Silvaze fic, one of many I’ve got in the back. This story focuses on them both during their youth and at their oldest, I hope you enjoy!!!

Something was bugging Blaze, intermittently pulling her attention from her reading. The kitten, now bordering on being a young feline, was laying on her belly with a book in her right hand and a small flame in her left, lounging across the bizarre set-up that’d become her most recent bed. Her current home was unlike any she’d had prior; the building wasn’t an abandoned house or an old flat or really like any shop she’d lived in. No, for the reasons of both security and comfort, she and her partner had chosen a rather different abode this time; a garage on the edge of the aptly dubbed Crisis City, used decades ago to both repair and customise vehicles.

Her current bed consisted of the backseat of a rather undamaged red car while his was the open boot of a semi-deconstructed pickup truck, both hoisted up on metal pistons. They’d both made modifications to the cars in order to make them more practical and homely (the boot had been half filled with a cut-to-size mattress while Blaze’s backseat had gained various pillows) but the arrangement was still just a little fresh and strange. Near the centre of the room, far above her, firelight light filtered into the building through a widely spaced ventilation grate and the garage’s sole entrance was a heavy, sheet metal, door that had to be slid up rather than pushed open.

That wasn’t what was bothering Blaze though, she’d selected this home and so she knew it to be an especially good fit. The building’s location meant that they were far from where most of Iblis’ lingering spawn prowled and, even if they did get close, the sturdy walls and metal door would surely both obscure and protect them. No, two rather foolish things were drawing her attention. The first of those silly things was the absence of her partner, Silver; the short grey hedgehog had gone out in search of food and, though she had faith in his abilities, was late returning. She truly did believe in him, he’d navigated the city and brought home food hundreds of times by now, but every time he took even a moment too long, a creeping worry would sneak its way into her mind. Bother number two was even sillier, unlike her first problem, she could solve bother number two herself, but she feared that it would set a bad precedent.

Upon arriving at their new home, the pair had fairly divided chores between them; who had to do what came down to how much the other person was already doing and how useful their powers were for the named task. For example, Blaze’s pyrokinetic abilities meant that she was in charge of purifying water, shaping metal to form defences, dispelling fires, cauterising wounds, and, though she thought herself awful at it, cooking. She had additional tasks unrelated to her powers of course, she typically took responsibility for scouting missions and other simple tasks, but that was to balance things out as Silver’s powers were so useful. The hedgehog’s psychic abilities made him suited to scavenging of all types, lighting the dark, construction, transport, excavation, demolition and, the job he was ignoring through a present salvaging excursion, tidying. With little more than a wave of his hand and a few thoughts, Silver could not only return objects to their assigned locations but strip dust and debris from surfaces, bundle hair and fur into a disposable ball and tear stains free from various materials. In terms of those latter issues their home was relatively clean but, beneath the feline’s reading position, various toys and games littered the floor.

Technically, those objects were shared between them but nine out of ten times it was Silver who’d bring them into their home. While they both heavily read, often exchanging books about both fictional and historical matters, Silver seemed to like finding other distractions from the outside world. Near the centre of the room, having been played just yesterday, was the toppled remains of a most bizarre block stacking game that they’d played; a tower of wooden bricks had been set up and they’d had to gradually remove pieces from it without letting the tower fall. Another game, its pieces scattered near the room’s far wall, had called for them to roll dice in order to progress across a board, scaling ladders and slipping down snakes as they went.

Chance-based endeavours like Monopoly, Yahtzee and all manner of card games were very uncommon and, unfortunately, her least favourite. It felt to her as though there was little skill to them, even if there were strategies that could be employed, enough luck in either direction would often skew the game. He seemed to be getting better at finding games she liked though, that tower game had been predicated on elegance and gentleness and he had previously brought her a variety of word games that did seriously appeal to her. Regardless of the game though, Blaze couldn’t deny that it was always fun to watch his nose wrinkle and panic set in as the hedgehog tried his hardest to escape defeat, regardless of the game type.

Despite that pleasant thought though, Blaze’s annoyance at the lingering mess in their home was being compounded by worry over his disappearance. She dog-eared her book and set it on the car floor, stacked atop her other tomes, only for a wispy blue hue to begin leaching from the garage’s entrance. With a rumbling roar, the folding metal rose to half its maximum height before quickly slamming itself back to the ground. That green-blue tone lingered within the room, providing a brightness that hadn’t been there prior, though it was much dimmed from its initial flash. Silver the hedgehog was stood just beyond the door, a ludicrously large and overstuffed backpack on his back and a proudly beaming smile on his face.

“Blaze, Blaze, Blaze!” He barrelled toward her, half hovering to account for the surely ludicrous weight on his back, and pulled her into a crushingly tight hug, “I found the final pieces I need!”

Silver’s white fur was dirtied with soot, but she couldn’t see any new injuries on him. The hedgehog’s runs into the city often resulted in a new burn or a few cuts but, despite his lateness, this occasion seemed to be an exception. The only real shift in his appearance was that change in colouration and the mess that was his quills; he was as grubby and short as ever.

“The final… pieces?” She questioned, managing to return his contact but finding herself rather perplexed. Blaze managed to shift to look him in the eye, only for his head to rub against hers, “I thought you were out searching for food?”

“Oh, I was, and I found lots!” He promised, pulling back just a little, “But I’m not hungry, I’ve got something I want to give you, I’ve wanted to finish it for so long now!”

This time, it was Blaze who kept a tight grip. Before Silver could pull away and slip off his bag, she made sure to hold him and catch his eyes in hers. He was plainly excited, extremely over enthusiastic about whatever she’d found, but the young cat knew she had to get out ahead of that, “I’m not hungry yet either, and I can’t deny that I’m curious, but you have a job to do, Silver.”

She thought he might refuse at first, distract himself and promise to do it later, but he’d heard the seriousness in her tone and, having glanced over her shoulder, had probably seen the mess he’d left. As he slightly sighed and half grumbled, she opted to release him. Unwilling to let his excitement flicker out and clearly wanting to do this as quickly as possible, the hedgehog shrugged the bag from his shoulders only for his psychic powers to gently lower it to the ground. He stepped to the centre of the room and raised his hands, cyan light flared around his body only to burst and cast from his palms; manifesting in almost every direction. She watched with glee as he began to conduct their surroundings, a smile broke onto her lips and her tail couldn’t help but flicker.

Orbs and globules of cyan light encased cards, game pieces and other knick-knacks before shooting them in all directions like some sort of insane wind. Boxes would pop themselves upright only for their pieces to miraculously align and tumble into their containers, the cards shuffled themselves in the air before miraculously forming a full deck and all of Silver’s books rapidly stacked themselves into neat piles. There was a clunk behind the feline, she turned to find that the four doors of the pickup truck had opened and that the seats and floor were rapidly being topped by various games and objects.

The constant whooshing and humming, sparkling and glowing of his psychic powers fully held the young cat’s attention. Just as she thought the display might be ending, Silver’s bag burst open and new masses entered their homely environment. Cans, bottles, tubs and packets raced their way across the room and found themselves spots on a series of metal shelves that’d once held tools and engine parts alike. In no more than a handful of minutes, following a final sweep with his aura that condensed all their homes dust and dirt into a palm sized orb, their home was fully clean. With a point of his finger, he briefly reopened the door and bowled the dirty sphere out of their home.

The light from their surroundings faded, now only shining from the bright tattoos on his hands and the cuffs on his extremities, “Alright, is that good enough?”

Blaze quickly turned away from him, realising quite how foolish the enamoured look on her face must have appeared. The skilful use of his powers could capture her attention in a way that nothing else could, a fact that seemed to be embarrassing her more the longer she knew him. Hiding her small blush, she paced the room slightly before noticing an object of interest, what seemed to be the only game box he’d not tidied away. Taking advantage of its position, set beneath his bed-car rather than within it, she knelt down and pulled it out; fully obscuring her face from him. It was unmarked or, rather, the front of the box had been scratched such that there was no name visible.

“Oh, um,” She heard a rustle before his footsteps drummed behind her, “That’s the game I’ve found the last pieces for, I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while but… I could never find a good set, so I had to make one.”

She turned back to him, hoping the flush had mostly faded from her face, “This is for me?”

“I know you don’t really like a lot of the games we play, but you play them anyway because I find them fun,” He explained, kneeling next to her, “I wanted to find a game that you’d find fun, one that doesn’t involve any luck; only thinking and skill. I read about this game in a couple of stories, people would always say that it was fair and based on intelligence!” He was beaming again, she noticed that his hands were clasped around something small, “It’s called chess, have you heard of it?”

“Chess?” Her head tilted as she parroted him, “I don’t think so…”

With a small gesture, he slipped the lid from the box and revealed its contents. Sat at the top was a semi-see-through plastic bag which looked to mostly contain bottle caps but there were a few strange trinkets scattered among them, beneath that was a small booklet that looked very used and torn and, filling most of the box’s base was a very bizarre playing mat. The bag and booklet carried themselves from the box, but Blaze plucked the board before Silver could take it. It was unlike any gameboard she had seen prior, having no real path through it or clear ending; it was more like a checkerboard pattern she’d seen on clothes and tiles. There was a long crease down its centre, where the board could fold for some kind of carrying and there was a somewhat tarnished plastic sheen to the chequered side, hypothetically in place to protect the board from spillages and dirt. On the left and right of the board were the numbers one through eight while the top and bottom of the board spelled A through H.

By the time Blaze had turned back to Silver, the hedgehog had shifted. Two pillows had been pulled from his bed and set opposite one another, the booklet had been flipped open in the air and he was rummaging through the bottlecap filled bag. Simultaneous to all this, he was looking at her and beaming again; just waiting for her to join him. Rolling her eyes, she rose from her position and took her seat, unfolding the board between them.

“So, what is this game? How do you play?” She asked, attempting to hide her curiosity.

“O-Okay, um,” The pages ruffled and flipped, he was grinning but he already looked a little confused, “So chess is a game where we both have an army which consists of six different types of warrior, six different chess pieces as they’re called, and each type can do different things. We go back and forth taking turns, only able to move one piece per turn. If a piece lands on an opponent’s piece’s spot, then it defeats that piece and takes it out of the game. The point of the game is to defeat your opponent’s king, their most important piece… does that make sense?”

Having arranged the words in her mind for a moment, considering them, Blaze nodded.

“Let’s go piece by piece because there are a lot of them,” with a wave of his hand, a pair of rings emerged from the bag and landed on the board, near its centre, “This is the king. It starts here and can move one space in any direction,” As if to emphasise his point, Silver made his king jump back and forth in the various ways it could move.

The ring on the hedgehog’s side had a gold band with a large onyx shape affixed to it while Blaze’s own was almost the opposite. A pearl was stuck to its front and its metal was very pale, she couldn’t tell whether it was Silver or platinum. Catching his gaze, Blaze nodded affirmatively again, “I think I understand so far.”

“This is the queen, it’s a very important piece too; she can move in any single direction but, unlike the king, she can move as far as it wants in that direction,” Next to the rings, Silver set an earring. His ended with a large onyx teardrop while hers was another shiny pearl.

“So, they can move like this…” Blaze picked up her earring, shifting from D8 to A8 to D4 before holding it back over D8, “Or even…” She shifted her queen from D8 straight forward, putting it in position to defeat Silver’s queen, and looked at him expectantly.

“O-Oh, well, yes but it won’t be as easy as that,” He looked a little flustered, it reminded her of the face he wore when he knew he was going to lose. Perhaps this game would be fun, especially if it involved more thinking and skill like he said, “And if you did that then my king could take your queen, so we’d be in the same position. It’ll be easier to win if you have lots of valuable pieces while I have fewer,” He explained.

“I see, that makes sense…” She hummed, returning her queen to her home.

“Next are the bishop pieces, they’re a lot simpler than the king and queen. These ones can move as far as they want, but only diagonally,” Blaze expected more jewellery to come from the bag but, much to her surprise, the hedgehog produced four small seashells. She recalled their shape from a book of ocean creatures that she’d found as well as a book of cuisine, his two were small muscle shells while hers were clamshells.

“Why shells?” She couldn’t help but ask, “You took the jewellery from one shop, weren’t there broaches that would work?”

“There were, but…” He seemed to have to consider his own reasoning, “The king and queen are supposed to match, you know? They’re together, they’re meant to be special… right? Even though there are two sides and each side’s members are supposed to match, I felt like they should match more.”

“You’re so naïve,” No wonder it’d taken him so long to gather pieces, he could have made this much easier on himself if he hadn’t followed that rule. Still, the thoughtfulness he had put into the game was becoming more and more apparent. He’d successfully hidden this for a few weeks at least, something especially difficult for the hedgehog, “Go on.”

“These are the rooks, they’re kind of like the bishops. They can move however far they want but only in straight directions,” From the bag hovered two pairs of miniature castle turrets, their undersides coated in a fluffy grey material. They took their place not next to the bishops but at the corners of the board, leaving a one square gap. He caught her eye just after she noticed them, “Don’t worry, I’ll explain that piece later. Do you understand how bishops and rooks work?”

“Yes, they seem rather simple, but I suppose positioning well will take a great deal of thought,” Blaze acknowledged, examining her right rook. It was a rather peculiar little castle; she couldn’t imagine what its purpose had been prior to their game. It felt as though it was made from some kind of heavy stone, perhaps marble? It was a little bigger than the other pieces too, almost exceeding the box that was meant to contain it.

“These rooks were the only actually chess pieces I could find in a nice condition,” Silver explained, likely having caught her curiosity and chosen to clue her in, “There weren’t really any sets of groups of four left for the set with the board I found, and the other pieces from the rook’s set had been knocked from a table and smashed. The board these rooks came with was really nice too, but it fell apart when I picked it up.”

From these alone, she couldn’t imagine what a true chessboard would look like. Perhaps the royal pieces would be crowns but what of the bishops? “It’s… interesting.”

“Now for the most common pieces, these are called pawns,” Suddenly, the plastic bag began to jangle as though there was a live creature within it.

Twenty-five bottle caps popped and flipped their way free from the sack and began to tap their way onto the board’s front lines; they lined up in front of the named pieces. The caps belonged to two different drinks; the row closer to Silver belonged to a rather common cherry cola beverage, advertised in black and striped with red, while those closer to Blaze were white and derived from a beverage she hadn’t seen before. Each one was marked with the simple phrase Cream Soda in a pink, cursive, font. He revealed a final cap from his palm and set it on her end of the board, completing her line.

“It was hard to find good ones, I got really lucky at a couple of newsagents,” Silver explained, before beginning to psychically show the motions with some of the pawns, “Okay, so, usually pawns can only move one space at a time and only straight forward, but there are a couple of conditions that can change that. The first time they move, they can move two spaces forward and, rather than beating other pieces by moving straight forward, they defeat others by moving one space diagonally forward,” Having displayed this using two pawns, allowing her piece to take his, he returned them to their opposing ends before displaying the next manoeuvre, “However, that means when a pawn is directly in front of another pawn or another piece, it cannot move at all,” He’d progressed the turns such that two of their pawns had come head to head, only when another of his caps came diagonal of her own, allowing it to be claimed and for their initial pawns to pass each other.

That all done, he looked at her to confirm she understood. Now the game was starting to make more sense, but with the pawn line in place she’d had a thought, “Just as pawns can’t pass through other pawns by going straight, you can’t pass through your own pieces. My queen couldn’t just jump over the pawns, is that correct?”

“That’s right, yep!” He was beaming, clearly taking her inquisitiveness as a sign that she was into the game. He wasn’t wrong to be honest, this game seemed to be entirely without luck; it had very serious, very clearly set, rules that both players had to follow too. She couldn’t land on go to jail three times in a row or just keep rolling ones, this was a game of thinking and skill, “There’s only one kind of piece that can jump over others, they jump over others no matter what and only fight where they land. They’re the one I had so much trouble with, the knights!”

From behind him, Silver drew out four small masses of plastic and set them in board’s remaining empty slots. It took Blaze picking up one of hers and thoroughly frowning at it to understand what he’d used to represent the knights. They were small, plastic, toy soldiers that had been melted from the waist down; the heated plastic had been flattened at the bottom in order to make a base of sorts. Hers looked to be small white bears, perhaps meant to be polar bears, while Silvers were black cats.

“It took me a while to find something else that would fit the board,” Silver grinned, before beginning to show the piece’s potential movements again, “Okay, so, knights can move one space and two spaces in another direction, left, right, forwards or backwards, in any order. They can’t go three forwards or two forwards and one back, they always have to move in the shape of a capital L basically.”

Putting his knight in the centre of the board, he showed all eight positions the piece could land in.

“The knight jumps over everything, friend or foe, to reach its final resting spot. They only take other pieces where they finally stop, just like how every other piece must stop when it takes a piece, so a knight can be surrounded by other pieces but unable to take any,” Silver explained before rather awkwardly admitting, “They’re a little bit confusing to be honest, I don’t really get why they work like that, but that’s all the pieces. Here, we can share the rules in case either of us get stuck,” He presented her with the paper he’d been half reading from and half recalling. In hindsight, she probably could have just read that, but he was clearly very excited to share this, “So, do you want to play?”

The eagerness on his face had presented an opportunity that Blaze couldn’t help but give in to yet, simultaneously, take advantage of. She folded her arms, looking off as if she was still considering it. Worry flitted across his face, just as she saw his fists basket and wriggle, she gave an answer, “I suppose you’ve convinced me.”

“Great! Alright,” Almost immediately, rather than puppet the pieces as he had prior, Blaze watched as he leant in to use his hands… only to catch himself and pause, “Oh, black gets to go first…” He seemed to suddenly panic, gesturing a little wildly, “I-I set it up this way you can see what I do and learn how to play more? I’ve had a couple of thoughts about how to play before, I swear I’m not trying to che-

“It’s fine, Silver,” Seeing his panicked face was only enticing her more, she had already begun to form some semblance of a plan, though she was sure it would collapse partway through this first game. Still, they’d surely have plenty of matches to scheme and learn over, “That makes sense, make your move.”

“Okay, a-and, right, if you get in a position where you could beat my king next turn then you have to say check. If you get my king in a position where he’d get beat no matter what then you say checkmate,” He quickly recited, fumbling to excitedly shift the G2 pawn up to G4.

Without so much as blinking, Blaze took a similar step and walked her C7 pawn two places forward. Next Silver moved his knight on Blaze’s left, it was only a small, gentle, shift, but Blaze’s tail was beginning to swish. She slid her queen out from behind the wall of pawns, he wasted his next turn positioning his bishop such that it might move further soon. Comfortable with her queen’s position, threatening the knight yet unable to take it due to his row of pawns behind it, Blaze was free to prepare a further weapon; she shifted her left knight out of holding, the next turn it would be able to take his first moved pawn. He struggled for a moment on his next turn, Blaze’s tail batted more, but eventually opted to set up his bishop so if the pawn was slain the knight would fall next. Knowing it safe, Blaze now casually walked her second knight directly into the bishop’s path; flanked by pawns, it would go untouched.

It’d only been a few turns, yet the board was already messy with deadlocks and threats. Her tail had gone from scarcely shifting to fluttering behind her, every so often making a sound as it traced across the stone floor. Blaze’s eyes flickered to him, his teeth were already grit and his starting plan was plainly in shambles, his intent to utilise his bishop quickly was inferior to her freeing of the queen. He couldn’t even free his own queen now, not swiftly at least, his own knight was in the way! There was no luck in this, he hadn’t been put in this place by mere fortune, she was teasing this reaction from him.

Having almost made at least three moves before settling, Silver fretfully pushed his left pawn to threaten her knight. Swiftly, Blaze moved her knight to freedom on its right side. He double moved the pawn in front of his king to resume that offensive pressure, but that merely made Blaze smirk. They were so in sync, she could read him so well, this was oh so easy. The pyrokinetic’s move was simple, her queen took one step backwards and threw her eyes back to him. His face twisted and he looked back to her, entirely confused, before, just as she’d expected, he touched his queen and went to move her. It was then that he realised; her queen had backed down from the fight with his knight to engage in a far more important battle. The hedgehog couldn’t move his queen for, if he did, then they’d both lose that important piece and, Blaze liked to think, she’d be in a better position. He’d made an opening in his defence for no real reason.

Panic was even more clear now; Silver moved the pawn in front of his queen to block her queen’s path. That only served to essentially trap the queen behind her own guard, the piece was practically useless now, for two turns at least, so Blaze let one of her right pawns take its first step forward to align with the first piece his queen could possibly take, a mere pawn. Silver, seeming not to understand this, moved his queen forward in preparation for next turn; just as predicted. Blaze shifted her right knight into alignment in front of that pawn, directly in front of enemy lines and yet untouchable; stationing it so that the queen would only have one option if she left her cell, to take the knight and fall to a pawn.

“W-Wow, you’re already really good at this Blaze,” He stammered, tugging at his chest fur, “Was I right? Is this the kind of game you like?”

“Yes, I think this is already my favourite of our games. It’s so much more exhilarating,” To match her praise, she chided him, “You’re obviously stalling, Silver.”

“I-I wasn’t, you just looked happy and… uhm…” Silver stared at the board again, clearly thinking hard. Unwilling to touch his queen, the psychic opted to move the knight that’d been previously trapped by her queen; it shifted from C6 to D4, behind Blaze’s knight. A bad move, Blaze instantly freed her bishop to threaten the knight; yes, it could be taken by a pawn if she acted on the threat, but now no matter the act, it had a price. Now made wary again, he made a more pointless move and shifted his previously unmoved knight forward. This was Blaze’s chance to capitalise! He had made an aimless move; she could gain more initiative and-

An earthquake shook the room, its thunderous force causing the very cars they slept in to screech and shift atop their platforms. Before that sound could truly proliferate though, Silver threw his hand forward; in an instant, he and Blaze were wrapped in thick cyan light. Just as he was protecting them from falling, he was equally defending them from the roof potentially caving in. The shifting of earth passed quickly but in its short period, Blaze caught the change in expression on Silver’s face. The awkwardness in his frame and that goofily stunned look had drained from his face. Unfortunately, his reflex hadn’t extended to their game and the pieces had been sent tumbling in all directions.

His gaze fell to that and, though a look of regret instantly cut across his brow, but the hedgehog turned his open palm from Blaze to the large metal door. It folded itself upward and coiled out of their way, Silver set off first only for Blaze to quickly follow. An aftershock almost tripped him as they arrived outside, but, beyond it, there was no sign of change on the almost empty road stretching beyond their house. That meant the threat wasn’t close but that didn’t mean they didn’t have to deal with it, she very well knew what these earthquakes likely signified.

With a flash of cyan aura, he jumped up and onto the roof of their building. Upon landing, he crouched and extended a hand; she ran, jumped, caught his hand and was very easily pulled to the top. Despite the small height of their building, hot winds whipped and blustered with a terrifying force before, in an instant, entirely vanishing. The two of them managed to rise and turn towards the city, only to have their fears confirmed. Far away, but not too far away, a skyscraper had been uprooted by a magma flood. Among that molten mass, towering almost as tall as that building had once been, hunched Iblis; the demonic flame that had destroyed this world.

They could already see great pimples of flame bursting on its back, unleashing a new load of its spawn on the world as it awakened from its slumber and resumed its destruction. She tore her gaze from it and looked to him, finding that his adorable panic had now fully fled and given way to a steely and determined frown. His entire body language had changed, going from so soft and slack to prickly and hardened. Even though he’d worked for weeks gathering pieces, even though he’d practically begged her to play with him, he’d already accepted that they’d have to put their game on hold.

Gently, she squeezed his hand and held it tightly to her side.

Their fun and games had been interrupted by the inevitable, the reason such games weren’t more commonplace in this long-destroyed world. They were kids, if what the books said was true, they shouldn’t have to endure this, but there was no point in crying about it. Acting was their only option. Not today, they weren’t ready, but tomorrow perhaps.

They would fight to resume their peaceful life, just hoping that maybe, one day, they’d get to play as much as they wanted.

---

The casual caress of late morning sunbeams fell upon an elder feline’s temple and gently dried the drowsiness from her. The covers still engulfed the monarch, bundling comfortably around her thin frame, and the softness of her mattress was hard to deny, but a certain figure laying with her, shifting ever so slightly, brought her eyes to flicker and remain open. She saw him first as a mess of grey fur, a mess whose chest her head was currently atop, but with a small shift and a fair amount of blinking, her smile curved broadly as she observed his sleeping form. His body had changed a lot these past few years.

He’d grown both physically, now standing a good head above her, and to better fit his name. Fur that’d once bordered on being white was now cast a steelier colouration; from quill to tail, he now more Silver than ever before. It wasn’t fully consistent, the centre of his chest fur was fighting the change far better than the rest of his body, but age was undeniably making its mark on him. Smile lines framed his muzzle, he had more wrinkles now than scars. Blaze knew she was the same of course, the tips of both her tail and ponytail had long blended with the rest of her body, but those changes were likely less obvious to him than they were to her. At every given opportunity, he’d still call her beautiful, just as she still thought he was handsome.

Blaze the cat had entered her twilight years; she’d arrived at age eighty just last month and he’d be following her in a handful of weeks. They’d both grown slower with age but, admittedly, the impact of that time was a little more visible in her day to day life, even if Silver was undoubtedly struggling more. He would rarely be seen walking without some kind of psychic aid either around his body or manifested as a walking cane and, were it not for his want to hold her hand, he probably would have been flying everywhere. Meanwhile, while climbing buildings and demolishing robots was likely out of the question, Blaze’s body had remained a little firmer due to her constant physical training.

She watched his bright yellow eyes finally flicker open, quickly falling on her. Before either of them could speak a word, a smile had snuck its way onto his muzzle, “Good morning, Blaze,” He managed to coo.

“Good morning,” She gently shifted up his body, bringing her forehead to bump and rub against his before she gently leaned in to peck his lips. Even in her older age, even having done this thousands of times, that contact still sent tingles down her spine and brought her tail to swish, “How were your dreams?”

In the wake of her works, his nose poked and rubbed against hers before he claimed another gentle kiss, “They were wonderful,” Another kiss was taken, “You were in them.”

She waited for a further explanation but got none, “That’s all?”

“That’s more than enough, everything else was just a bonus,” His nose rubbed against hers again.

Even at this old age, he still blushed as he tried to speak sweet nothings to her, “You’re so naïve…”

“You’re so pretty,” He mumbled back, “How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully, I had my favourite pillow after all… but if I keep lying like that, I’ll surely put a crick in my neck,” She half teased and half confessed, finally pulling away a little, “Oh well, these are the sacrifices we make…”

As a pair who’d known and lived through sacrifice after sacrifice, these little things didn’t bother them at all. While others feared this point of life, they were relishing a time they never thought they’d see let alone see together.

“Well, if yours gets bad then you can have mine,” He goofily promised, sitting up to follow after her.

“How thoughtful,” She purred, slinking away again and pulling back the covers. Little dances like this were how they typically woke up on easy days like this; it looked as though he was chasing her when really, she was toying with her prey, “Can I have the rest of you too?”

“Well, you gave me your heart,” She’d made it out of the bed, he was sitting on its edge, “I don’t think I have anything even half as valuable, so you can have whatever you want.”

“I don’t know about that,” She leaned in again, cupping his cheek and kissing his lips, “You gave me yours after all.”

She gently dragged her hand from his face and stepped away, applying the tiniest bit more pressure with her wedding banded finger. They were coming up on sixty years married, their diamond wedding anniversary. The Sol dimension would be abuzz about it as it grew closer still, but they’d already made their private plans. A trip to the past of that other dimension, a time that they knew would be peaceful but that they also knew they looked old enough not to be recognised by their (or anyone else’s) younger selves. They’d found that those pockets of time were the most private spots in the universe, perfect for relaxing. Still, they’d visit their friend’s present too before heading home; it’d been a good couple of months since their last time traveling excursion.

Getting dressed was easy, her wardrobe hadn’t changed too much over the years; some more comfortable white trousers had taken the place of her tights and a bun had stolen her ponytail’s place. Silver’s, meanwhile, had gone from eclectic in his youth to more regular during adulthood before now resting in a vaguely wizard like place. His choice to wear robes did suit him, and the cold wracked him quite badly nowadays, but the loss of visible chest fur was a grave sacrifice. Still, the baggy sleeved cyan shawl did look very comfortable on him and the glasses that age had required him to wear for reading rather completed the look.

“Do you want to play some more today,” He made the offer, rolling his shoulders and wrists, “I don’t think we’ve got anything planned…”

“I don’t think we do, no… and they’d know where to find us if something came up,” She led, smiling again, “But you remember how that game is going, don’t you? Just like the last few have.”

“You’re underselling yourself, calling it a few,” He admitted, pulling his fluffy quills into a loose ponytail, “But, whether I win or lose, you know I love playing with you.”

“Well, in that case,” She snuck her arm around his, “Shall we depart?”

It took him no more than a glance to their large bedroom window to push it open, parting the curtains and revealing the balcony. After a few steps across soft carpet, the clacking of shoe on stone entered her ears. The royal garden lay beneath them, in all its resplendent glory. Rosebushes of five different colours cut maze-like channels through the grounds, leading lily fields and foxgloves and all manner of wonderful places. The pond would be so full of life today, spring was just beginning to turn to summer, and all the plants were in prime condition. Their goal was no outdoor spot though, the sight of their games was central to the entire garden; a metal and glass structure painted white, the royal summerhouse. During her childhood she’d thought it a pompous and useless building and, to be fair, it still was, but at least they’d found it some kind of function.

As they reached the small wall that guarded the balcony’s ledge, Blaze felt a certain weightlessness overcome her form. Soon her legs had glided up and into his right arm, his left hand coming to hold between her shoulders even though his psychic light was doing most of the effort.

Regardless of that fact, as she looked up and into her husband’s eyes. Sometimes, Blaze still couldn’t help but smile like some foolish schoolgirl with a crush, “Even after all these years, you can still sweep me off my feet.”

His cheeks reddened, she watched him shift a little closer to kiss her forehead. It was then, entirely nonchalantly, Silver jumped onto the wall with her in his arms, “Ready?”

She nodded and he stepped off, but neither of them fell. Instead, Silver began to casually walk them through the air as though they were still on the ground. Her fear of heights had vanished half a century ago, having a boyfriend turn husband who could fly had certainly helped with that, but her gaze still refused to leave his aged features for either the sky or lovely the lovely scenery they were passing over. He looked so content, walking through the air with her in his arms; he’d carried her in the life before this one but never worn such a relaxed face. It looked so good on him. As his eyes collided with hers again, she couldn’t help but match his look as she snuggled a little deeper into his glow.

Gradually, the clouds that framed his face drifted further and further away. Despite the glow that lingered around them, Blaze began to hear the hedgehog’s light footfalls before the door of the summerhouse seemed to open itself. Finally, she tore her gaze from him and saw their private place; a small table with cushioned metal chairs stood in the middle of a roughly hemisphere glass and metal room, potted plants were stationed around the room’s edge as well as a small tap to draw water from. As they approached, the mess they’d left on the table became clearer; their chessboard, tea set, various teas and small pile of books had gone untouched since yesterday. She was gently lowered onto her chair, pushed in with a combination of psychic power and his own touch.

Before he could drift to his side of the table, she caught his hand and gestured him down; another kiss was planted, this time on his cheek, “Thank you, Silver.”

“Any time,” He rubbed his muzzle against hers again before rising and rounding the table, his fingers fell upon where she’d kissed him.

As he sat, a cyan glow overcame their tea set and carried it through the air. While it went to the tap for cleaning, she watched as he leaned in and marvelled at their prior game before taking a similar position herself. They’d played four yesterday, having to stop part way through their fifth for a dining arrangement with their family. Curiously, this board composition looked incredibly familiar; even if it wasn’t one she’d seen in this lifetime. Sitting across from him like this, today more than ever, reminded her of that first game they’d ever played together. Perhaps they’d finally finish it today.

She was to go first but she already knew what she’d be doing, his movements were far more interesting. Next turn he’d move his knight again, just as he had at the end of their last yesterday, he’d surely freed it from its starting point for a reason… though one of his pawns was threatening her knight, when had that happened? The tea pot, now full of water, floated over and was set atop a small tripod with a metal dish set beneath it. With a wave of her hand, Blaze placed a small flame to begin and bring the water to boil.

Blaze made her play, bringing their knights face to face; she moved her one from F5 to H4.

As anticipated, he moved his knight from H3 up to F4; he was taking a more offensive stance than she was. Even if her queen was in a better position, he was descending on her, it was time for a change of pace. She moved her far left pawn a single space from its starting position, priming it to take or be taken by one of his pawns in the immediate future. He had three real options; he could take the pawn and have it be taken by her rook next turn, leave his pawn to die and let her pawn take his (threatening his rook in the immediate future) or move that pawn forward, making it quite useless but slowing her rook’s advance. He opted to take the pawn, a play that Blaze thought was suboptimal.

“That’s the first piece taken this whole game,” Silver seemed to realise.

“It’ll be far from the last,” Blaze casually contested, immediately pushing her rook up to claim his murderous pawn.

As she took the small black figurine between her fingers, she couldn’t help but marvel at it slightly. They had received many chess sets over the years but this one, a wedding gift from Sonic and Amy, was their favourite by far. The rosy hedgehog still thought it was so cute that they played a lot of board games, especially this one; she seemed to think the royal aspect was rather fitting. This was a proper marble chess set; its pieces were all smooth to the touch and had a weight that made every move seem meaningful. The clack of his rook and king castling, a move that they hadn’t even known about in their prior life, as he perfectly read one of her stratagems was evidence enough of that. If she moved her rook to check it, it’d be taken by his knight only for that knight to be taken by a pawn.

It wasn’t worthwhile, Blaze instead opted to move her knight from H4 to F3, claiming his bishop on white and unleashing the first worthy call of the match, “Check.”

His hand forced; Silver ducked his king all the way into the far-left corner. The feline found herself smirking as he made that retreat. She knew that move had been foreseen on his part, but she had claimed first check just as he had claimed first blood. One was far more indicative of the game than the other and, to commemorate that impact, she somehow doubted he’d anticipated her next move. That white knight moved to D2 and defeated his queen, an action that brought her very tail to swish and the small fire she’d conjured to burst and ember with delight.

Her knight was quickly taken by his bishop, but the damage was done. His brow had crumpled, he was deep in thought; this was the expression she loved to pull from him, the one where he’d push up his glasses and try to look serious. The harder he tried, the cuter Blaze thought it made him look.

Hearing the kettle whistle, she dulled the flame and looked to their various boxes, “What kind of tea do you want?”

“I was thinking mixed berry, are you okay with that?” He managed to ask, thinking hard as she stalled her turn to look at him.

“Of course,” She took their small, heart shaped, infuser and filled it with that colourful purple and red mixture before plopping it into the water.

With her turn, she chose to race her rook forward now; it was pushed from H6 to H4, leaving his king��s guard of a pawn paralysed in front of it and staying out of his knight’s range. Unfortunately, though a less wise individual would leave that entrapment, Silver knew this game well. Her goal hadn’t been to pressure his king so much as claim the knight to the rook’s left, he shifted it from F4 to G2. Blaze now moved her own knight, claiming one of his pawns and threatening his right rook. This game was nearing its end, but she was certain there’d be a slugging match before its conclusion. Silver rushed his black-squared bishop to align with her rook, ensuring a mutual sacrifice of rooks as her knight claimed his first. After that devastation, it was her turn again and the queen was so much freer to move.

The piece with which she shared a title rushed from A6 to D3, claiming a pawn in its path and aligning with his remaining rook. In an attempt to dissuade that piece’s destruction, Silver stepped his king within a single space of the small tower. That was fine though, there were more pieces she could pick off first; the feline’s queen took the pawn immediately behind it and, from its new position, threatened both his knights simultaneously.

Silver was visibly sweating, his teeth hung just above his lip and her little flame sputtered brighter again. He tugged at his robes, aiming for the chest fur that lay beneath it, and psychically pushed his spectacles further up his nose. Smirking wider still, the queen poured both herself and the king cups of tea. He met her eyes briefly and managed to thank her, but this little hedgehog clearly knew that he was in the cat’s grasp, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Unable to see another move, he shifted his knight onto the starting line of her pawns, “Check.”

It was an adorable attempt to offset her, Blaze simply stepped her king a single pace right and allowed it to escape defeat while, simultaneously, threatening that knight. He picked up his knight again, going to take her rook, only to catch himself and realise her bishop would reverse and make it a mutual sacrifice. He then considered simply setting the knight in front of her pawn, but realised it was still within that bishop’s range. He fully bit his lip, breathing in a sharply; the elder feline relished in that single moment, watching his panic build to the highest it could possibly reach. The game was practically over, but they’d play this out; cats liked to play with their prey, after all. He moved his knight out of the way to hide among two of her pawns.

When he finally finished deliberating, Blaze moved her bishop on white to a spot that would threaten it once again. The knight backed up again, incidentally moving to threaten her queen. After that monarch took a single pace backwards, his horse was on the run again and Silver’s sweat looked as though it might overflow. Unable to determine what to do, he simply had it retreat one last time, pulling in behind two of his four remaining pawns and taking a seat next to Blaze’s own knight.

Blaze dragged her bishop from A6 all the way to F1, claiming his final rook. He only had eight pieces left and four of them were pawns which hadn’t moved this entire game, meanwhile she had only lost three pieces. By the look in his eyes, Blaze knew that he could see the writing on the wall, he knew exactly how she planned to end this and was powerless to stop him. She took a deep sip of her tea; he hadn’t even touched his. His king avenged the rook and claimed her bishop only for Blaze to let her queen take a single step forward and right. Silver moved his cornered knight out again, threatening to take that queen if it moved to put the king in check while the pawn behind it would take that queen if she dared to attack the knight.

Understanding this, Blaze slid the queen two spaces right; she threatened the pawn that would threaten her. The targeted pawn took a step forward, attempting to assure mutual destruction, but Blaze thought that play was sloppy; fear of losing was making him her puppet. As it moved forward, his knight became easy pickings for her.

The hedgehog almost entirely deflated, Blaze reached over and ruffled the back of his quills, “It was a good game but I’m quite certain it’s nearing its end…”

He made a half groaning sound as he walked his remaining knight forward, “I’m not giving up yet,” He never would.

The pyrokinetic walked her queen to the back line, “Check.”

His king jumped forward and between two of his pawns. Blaze went to free her second bishop only to realise an aspect of the board she hadn’t noticed. His bishop was perfectly in line with his king; were it not for the paralysed pawn, this game would have been a lot closer than it presently was. Instead, she opted to move her queen back a space and threaten his two remaining pawns. One jumped forward but, soon enough, both were beat and all he got out of it was shifting his remaining knight closer to the front lines. With only five pieces remaining, Silver moved his knight directly into the path of her king in an attempt to draw it out. Rather than take it like that, Blaze let it dance with her remaining rook and forced it back to where it had been. The pair kept chasing each other, Silver breaking a smile at the silliness, only for her to threaten his king with her rook. It was forced to shift back into the far corner, H1, but the game was over.

Blaze sent her queen onto the back line, it’d been cornered by that castle and queen pincer-movement, “Checkmate.”

“Well, I think that’s six, it’s not my longest losing streak but we’ll see,” The king briefly flustered himself looking for a way out before admitting defeat, knocking his self-named piece over and finally taking a sip of his tea. In its wake, as always, he was grinning, “You’re still so wonderful at this.”

“After all this time, you’re just easy for me to read and it’s so cute to watch you squirm,” She casually admitted, prompting the very reaction she’d mentioned, “Seeing you flustered just entices me to play better,” She conceded, gesturing to the board, “Another?

“Of course,” He beamed, shoulders relaxing as he set the board up again, “Seven’s supposed to be a lucky number, isn’t it?”

#silvaze #Silver the Hedgehog #Blaze the Cat #sonic the hedgehog

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luckylq25-blog · 4 years

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Because where I was from

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scrabbleknight · 5 years

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Sasha and the Frogs [Ch. 7]: Backpack Chaser

Good morning, America! At least, I assume it is morning since I live in Germany and I have no concept of time. Anyways, welcome back to Sasha and the Frogs! Chapter 7 aka the longest chapter I had ever written. Honestly though, it could even be too long.

This chapter was planned for release about 2 weeks ago but circumstances had gotten up and I was only able to finish it two days ago. After some minor editing, I finally got it done and posted it on both AO3 and FF. Also, it’s an original chapter because reasons.

I honestly have no idea why I wrote this chapter. But I wanted to anyway and I did. So there you have it. Take a peek and enjoy!

[Archive Of Our Own]

[FanFiction.Net]

Preview below!

It has been about two weeks since Sasha was transported into this other world filled with low-tech sapient amphibian people and for the most part, she was adjusting to her new life there quite well, though with a few hiccups here and there. Nonetheless, she prevailed against every challenge and learned valuable lessons along the way, like some kind of a kid's show.

So she deserved some downtime after all those unfortunate events, which was why she was sitting in her basement room with her this-universe BFF, Sprig, and his little sister, Polly.

"What's this?" Sprig asked, holding a metal cylinder with a handle and a hose.

"That's a bicycle pump. Or in this case, just a pump?" Sasha the human answered, somewhat uncertain.

"And what's this?" asked the sister Polly, in her fins was a small rectangular box.

"That's a power bank." Sasha explained. "Though, not much use right now."

"And what's this?" Sprig asked once more, flipping through the pages of a notebook. "'The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell'?"

Sasha swiped the book from the boy frog's hands, blushing. "Hehehe, that is just homework. Let me just slip this here…" She muttered, sliding the book under her pillow.

Sprig continued to look at all of Sasha's friend's stuff. While some were familiar like the ruler and a pair of scissors, others were bafflingly new and unseen off, like the mysterious Rubik's cube. "You know, your friend Anne has a lot of cool stuff. I'm surprised she brought all of this with her."

Sasha leaned back, supporting herself with her arms. "Well, she usually doesn't bring this much. It was like her birthday that day and we went on a little happy birthday shopping spree. It was totes fun."

"You know, before we got sent here by accident."

"How did you get here anyway?" Polly asked, holding an eraser. It smelled of strawberries, which tempted Polly to then slowly try and lick, only for Sasha to grab it away from her.

"That is a secret I'll carry to my grave." She answered, dropping the eraser back into the bag. "Alright, y'all! Fun time's over. Now put it all back into the bag, please."

At Sasha's request, Polly and Sprig helped collect all of Anne's belongings, dropping it into the bag. While the contents weren't exactly Sasha's, she was at the moment the only one who knew what everything was. Thus, technically it was hers until she finds Anne and gives it back. The items themselves were just basic things to her but being from Earth, they were special and Sasha couldn't help but feel protective of them.

At the same time, she was still genuinely surprised at how spacious the bag was and how much they actually packed into it. She did roughly check the bag when she was stuck in the forest early on but it was never that thorough. She was also glad that she planned early and placed the magic music box under a blanket instead of leaving it in the bag. She wasn't ready for the questions that might arise from revealing it and she was sure that this box didn't originate from her own world if the frog symbols had anything to go by.

"I want to see more of this 'Anne' stuff! They're pretty cool!" Polly exclaimed after finishing with the clean-up.

"Maybe later." Sasha waved off. She then lifted the backpack and dropped it right next to her bed. "We can look at it upstairs. You know, where there is an actual table and natural light."

"Are the mushrooms not natural?"

"They aren't from where I'm from."

As if on cue, Hop Pop's voice called out from upstairs, presumably from the kitchen. "Kids, come on up! The… eh, 'brunch' is ready!"

"Yay!" Sprig cheered, running up the stairs with Polly right behind him. Sasha soon followed, leaving the bag behind in the basement. Unbeknownst to Sasha, a mysterious member had been watching the whole ordeal from the cellar door. It had waited patiently for hours on end, or maybe a few minutes for it had no concept of time. One of its eyes shone and sparkled, looking at the bag of otherworldly objects. The other was looking in a completely different direction, a bit confused.

It was a crow. Larger than the average Earth crow but smaller than most birds seen here. It stood twice as tall as Hop Pop, making it almost an average human teen's height. Huge in comparison to that of home but animals tended to be bigger here anyway. Bessie, for example, was a car-sized snail.

"CAAAAAWWWW!" It squawked loudly.

#amphibia #sasha amphibia #sasha and the frogs #roleswap au #sprig plantar #polly plantar #hopadiah plantar #amphibia au #fanfiction #fanfic #ff.net #archive of our own #ao3 tags #sasha and anne switch places #amphibia fanfic #canon divergence

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lights-up-divine · 5 years

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Monster in the Night

Hey guys! So just finished with this one, and I am so excited to share it. I’m literally starting school tomorrow so expect this to be my last post for a couple of weeks.

This short story is about 6k words, I know, very long. But I love the premise and the story and I hope you will too. It’s about a newly turned vampire, Kiera, who is trying to survive in the city on her own while holding up her morales.

I braced myself as the butcher threw me out of the shop by the tattered collar of my grimy shirt. I wanted to turn around and deck him, just punch him in his big bearded face, but I knew better than to cause a scene. I couldn’t afford to get banned from another butcher shop.

I clenched my teeth as my skull collided with the cold pavement. I could feel the slimy residue of the storm the previous night coat my hair and I could smell the moldy scent of mildew. I winced as I got up shaking from the bottom up and trying not to think about the state that my clothes must have been in. I looked at the scratches on my cold grey hands and noticed how badly I was shaking. I cursed as I stumbled into the dark alleyway to collect myself. I sat down on the dryest pile of boxes I could find clutching my backpack to my chest and trying to hold back my tears. Head in hands I felt a migraine coming on. I tried to stifle my pain as I ignored the squeaks of mice and the scattering of roaches. I knew that if I was going to make it to the end of the week if I needed to focus, but hunger was making my mind cloudy. Inhale, exhale, I took a deep breath and tried to focus my churning brain. Right now the only thing that I needed to focus on was how to get more money. Not on my ever-increasing bloodlust, not on my continued homelessness, not on the fact that I had lost everything in my life a few short months ago. The only thing I needed then and there was more blood, and the money I would use to buy it.

When I finally got up off my butt and started walking it was around noon. Clouds blanketed the entire sky but I knew by the smell of the air and the calls of pigeons that it was about midday. I stalked silently down the busy streets, the people there giving me a wide berth. At the time I wasn’t sure if it was because my clothes were filthy or if they somehow knew that I was a vampire, but I didn’t mind the space all that much. I liked being alone, and being left alone so I encouraged the extra room. I walked down the stairs to the subway platform and smiled before it would have been impossible for me to get a seat, but now things were different. As the subway train pulled into the station I used the people’s repulsion toward me to push my way to the front and board the car fairly easily. As the car pulled out I closed my eyes and relaxed for what seemed like the first time all that week. I was a city native so the loud car blaring, low murmur of people in the streets, and the faint mellow sounds of pigeons cooing in the distance formed a sort of lullaby in my mind and lulled me into sleeplike calm. The train lurched to a stop and I reluctantly opened my eyes. I walked out of the underground and into the world above.

I was staring at a green oasis in the sea of rigid concrete. Union Park was my favorite place to go to escape everything. That was true before and after I was turned, and is still true to this day.I stepped out of the subway station and smiled for the first time all that week. My tattered sneakers carried me through the lush grass and I practically beamed as saw bright leaves dancing through the wind. The only thing that was missing was a bright sun in a blue autumn sky, but I knew that seeing sunlight was far too much to ask for anymore. I walked slowly through the park and embraced the quiet nature of the place. I sat down at a stiff wooden bench and did my best to lay down. I stared at the canopy and tried to think of how I could make money. I didn’t have time to do any odd jobs, and begging would take too long. I sighed and admitted to myself that my speculations were pointless. There was only one sure-fire way for me to make my money fast, and I already knew what it was.

I needed it to get darker before I could set my plan into motion so I gave in to my fatigue and laid my head down on the bench. It took a while for me to finally fall asleep. I tossed and turned trying fruitlessly to find a softer piece of wood for my head to rest on, before I finally gave up and realized that I would never truly be comfortable, not anymore. Defeated, I laid on the bench and tried to pretend that I was back home in my own bed, with the fan on, and my dog Dune resting peacefully by my head.

When I finally woke up it was later in the day and I felt at least somewhat rested. Even though my fatigue had ebbed, as I got up off the bench I heard my joints pop and crack. I sighed as I realized that sleeping on park benches was probably not the best thing for my back. I walked through the park once again and was relieved to see that it was still empty. I got to the public bathroom without any fuss and went into the women’s stall, making sure to lock the door behind me. Thankfully the park was never that popular so the bathroom was just regular dirty instead of a complete mess. Still, I got my change of clothes out my backpack and put them on as quickly as possible. Touching the sink gingerly I turned on the water and washed my face, making sure to rinse any gunk out of my hair as well. Even though I had heard that vampires were more resistant to disease than humans I still didn’t want to spend more time in that bathroom than I needed to.

I stepped out of the stall and into the park once again. Pulling out my phone I typed in the password quickly and opened the camera app. I raised it above my head and looked into the screen. I didn’t know if it was just the lighting or the angle but my skin looked really gray. My shoulders slumped when I realized that it had something to do with my transformation or the fact that I hadn’t seen sunlight in months, probably a combination of both. Either way, I didn’t open the camera to look at the state of my skin, I opened it to see if my new outfit looked fancy enough. The eggshell white cotton sweater and green skirt combo wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking that I lived in a penthouse, but it did make me look solidly middle class, and that was what I was aiming for. I closed my phone with a smile and picked up my backpack. I walked confidently out of the park, and toward the subway station, the next part of my plan could begin.

As the subway train pulled into the station, I took a deep breath and plastered a serene smile on my face. For this plan to work, I needed to get into character. The moment I walked up the stairs and onto the streets it would be like I was on a stage. Even though I had quit theater a month before my transportation, I still liked to consider myself a good actress. And a good actress always prepares herself before she goes up on stage. I needed to look like I had no care in the world like I was just there to help. I needed to really feel like I didn’t belong there like this was just a visit, nothing more. I closed my eyes one last time and walked up the stairs into what seemed like a different world entirely.

Instead of the close confines of throngs of people going about their lives, and the busy atmosphere of midtown where I got off seemed broken and desolate. There were cafes with boarded up windows and not a skyscraper in sight. I walked on a sidewalk that was cracked and in desperate need of a repair. I regarded buildings that were mostly old, corroding brick and weathered wood. Even if it was my first time there (and it wasn’t) I would have known that it was a bad part of town. More than the boarded-up windows and the cracked sidewalks what really told was the demeanor of the people. There were three to four people leaning against the walls of what seemed like each ally way, who eyed all of the passersby hungrily. Sitting on the streets were people wearing filthy dollar store clothes, and ratty jackets peeking out of their cheap tents, eyes empty. I walked around the town for a bit, regarding the homeless folk with a special interest. For me to properly act out the scene I couldn’t just choose anybody, I needed to be selective. I found one that looked right, and it didn’t take me long. There were so many people like him that I pretty much had my pick.

“Excuse me, Sir?” I asked in a high voice as I bent down to talk with the old guy.

He looked up at me with searching brown eyes and sighed a long sad sigh, “What is it, Miss?”

I smiled sweet and fake as I pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill from my backpack and handed to the man, “I want you to have this!”

The old man shook his head and blocked my hand, saying that he couldn’t possibly take it. Externally I frowned, though on the inside I was beaming. Good, I thought, he had refused. From the cut of his hair to the smoldering embers in his brown eyes, I had been able to see right away that he was the proud type. The proud type was exactly what I needed for everything to go smoothly. He had played his part, albeit unknowingly, and now if I just stuck to the script everything would go as planned.

I thrust the twenty dollars into his face and did my best to convince the man to take it,“ It’s alright Sir, you need it more than me. And besides my mom says that giving back is the duty of the more fortunate among us. So please, Sir, take it.”

The man shook his head again, “No can do. It wouldn’t be right for me to take money from a kid, no matter how fortunate you are.”

Internally I groaned at the old man. I had already gotten all that I needed from him, I thought, just take the money already.

I smiled stiffly as I tried to retain my composure as I pleaded with the man, “No please, Sir! Take it you need it more than me, I would hate to see you suffer!”

“Fine,” the man said as he roughly grabbed the twenty dollars out of my hand, “If you hate seeing me suffer so badly, then I’ll just take it.”

I smiled and took a deep breath as I prepared to say my final line. I needed to really sell the fact that I was fortunate and had money and that required some overacting.

“Are you sure you don’t need more Sir,” I offered loudly, “I have plenty more to give.”

The old man waved me off and I was almost jumping for joy as I turned the corner and walked down a dark alley. The guys who were standing outside the ally had hopefully noticed the entire scene with me and the old man. I just hoped that they were smart enough to peg me as a happy-go-lucky girl with money and follow me down the alley. I had just begun suspecting that they were stupid and that I should try a different street when I heard a loud, false cough behind me.

I turned around and sighed with relief as I saw that the guys were behind me, “Thank god you guys were smart enough to follow me, I thought you guys would never show up.”

They were the usual street thugs, close-cropped hair, black clothes, I could tell from the looks in their eyes and their stances that they thought that they were the toughest people to ever walk the streets. I snickered as they turned to each other with confusion written all over their faces. Finally after a solid few seconds of blank staring the biggest one, obviously the leader stepped forward and roughly grabbed my arm with a gloved hand.

“Cut the small talk,” he growled, “Just give us your all your cash and you won’t get hurt.”

I snickered as I looked at him sideways. Now came the last part of my plan, usually either the hardest or most fun part. I grabbed the guys forearm and took a deep breath. Even with my vampire strength I still needed some concentration. I steadied myself and yanked hard on his forearm, throwing him roughly to the ground. His skull hit the concrete with a thud and blood started seeping out the impact wound. I stared at the scarlet liquid seeping out onto the ground and drooled. It had been so long since I had last drank and human blood had the sweetest aroma. Lost in thought I paid no mind to the guys who were now rushing at me. A fist to the jaw finally broke me out of my trance and my mind was back to the task at hand. I saw that the other three guys had surrounded me, leaving me no chance of escaping. It didn’t matter to me though, escaping wasn’t part of the plan. One of the guys aimed another punch at my jaw, but this time I was ready. I grabbed his hand and pulled his body downwards. This time I wasn’t going for a flip, I aimed the pull carefully so that the guys stomach collided perfectly with my knee making him clutch his stomach and sink to the ground. As I turned around one the guys aimed a kick to my ribs, and I used another grab. This time I grabbed his leg and pushed him forcefully, sending him barreling down to the ground, back first. Another cracked skull on the concrete, another guy down. I turned to face the remaining thief and found nothing but a shadow spiraling away from the alley.

“Tsk, coward,” I scoffed as I watched the guy high tail it away. I knew that it wasn’t worth it chasing him, I had all that I needed right there.

I turned to the collapse thieves on the pavement with a hungry grin. Shakily I bent down to the first guy and tried desperately to ignore the pooling blood. I was a vampire, so it was natural for me to drink blood, even still there was something about taking blood from another person that just seemed wrong to me, morally speaking. The last time I had drained a living being it hadn’t gone so well. Stealing was another issue, though. I justified my thievery by saying that these people would have robbed me if I had let them, though it still left a dark mark on my conscious.

It took all of my concentration to not start licking the blood off the ground as I rummaged through the guys' pockets. I pulled out his wallet and laughed with glee as I opened it, 100 dollars, cash. I rummaged through the other guy’s pockets with similar results. At the end of it, I come out with 400 dollars, all from a single gang. Even though I didn’t like stealing that much, I couldn’t deny the rewards. I thought of pulling the trick again, but the ever-increasing tremor in my spine made me reconsider. Now that I had the money I needed I knew that it was long past time for me to finally buy some blood.

I got out of that part of town quickly, but not before stopping at a bathroom to change. As much as I loved wearing clean clothes, drinking blood was messy and I didn’t have money to spend on washing my clothes. A place to stay was pricey in the city, and I needed to save all that I could. I got on the subway with a satisfied sigh, knowing that my thirst would soon be quenched.

I arrived at the butcher shop without any incident. There were a few stares as I lined up but no one tried to throw me out again. I waited in line for an excruciating ten minutes. The bitter metallic smell of animal blood invaded my nostrils and made me hungrier and hungrier. So much so that by the time I reached the counter, I couldn’t stop myself from trembling.

“Four gallons, f-four gallons of cow blood, please.” I stuttered as I placed two hundred dollars on the counter.

The butcher looked at me strangely, eyebrows raised, eyes looking concerned, but eventually he went to the back to fulfill my request. When he emerged from the back carrying two double gallon container I could barely stop myself from jumping over the counter to get them. My breathing was heavy as he took the two hundred dollars and handed me the jugs. I stepped away from the counter and pressed the jugs to my chest. I felt comforted by their cool weight, they told me that everything would soon be okay. Even though I prefer my blood warm, I would take what I could get. I knew that I needed to ration if I didn’t want to come back next week, but my instincts took over and I couldn’t control myself. As my mind fogged over I tried to tell myself to wait, to at least get out of the shop before I started drinking, but my body wouldn’t listen. I watched as my hands popped the top off of one of the jugs and brought it to my lips right there and then on the tile of the butcher shop. My body didn’t care about the stares, the looks of horror, or even the shrieks. All it knew was that it was fulfilling it’s bloodlust.

I would be the first one to tell you that the blood didn’t taste good. In fact, it was absolutely horrendous. It was bitter and dirty tasting, like licking iron soil. In fact, consciously I wanted to put the jug down and wash my mouth out with soap. But the vampire part of me craved it, needed it. That was the part of me that was still hungry even when I lowered the jug from my lips and put the cap back on.

As I looked around the butcher shop I found that the people inside it were even more disgusted with me than usual. I knew that it was because I had just drunk a gallon of blood right in front of them, but it still stung. Next thing I knew I down on the concrete in front of the butcher shop with a badly bruised tailbone.

I stared at a now fuming butcher as he bellowed, “You, girl are banned! Now get out of here you wannabe, vampire, freak!”

I got up from the pavement and chuckled. Wannabe vampire, I thought with a sad grin, I wish I was a wannabe vampire. Every time I would go to sleep I would pray that everything in the past four months was just a bad dream. That I would wake up in my bed to my dog Dune barking and my mom making breakfast. I would give anything to rewrite my history. Pushing back tears I pulled out my phone from my now even more battered backpack and opened the notes app. I added Middle Side Butchers to places I was now banned from with a sigh. They were one of the few butcher shops in the city that sold blood I could actually tolerate drinking. I knew that I needed to find another soon before my blood supply ran out.

I hopped on the subway and rode it only a short way before getting off. The area wasn’t as crowded as midtown, nor as shady as where I had beaten up those thieves. It was currently going downhill, so people were leaving left and right. That meant that there was enough foot traffic to make it safe, without it being overwhelming. I walked through the mostly deserted sidewalks and glanced around at the decently clean brick buildings. Pulling out my phone once again I used my maps app to find my way back. Along the way, I thought back to an issue that had been bugging me. Even though I hadn’t been home in a few months my mom was still paying my phone bill. I knew that my mom was forgetful, but I still liked to think that she still cared about me, even if she had thrown me out. I arrived at my destination and switched off my phone. It was a four story brick building that by my estimates had been abandoned for years. I went around the side and climbed up the fire escape. On the roof hundled next to a large air duct was my tent, weighed down by some loose bricks I had salvaged from a demolished townhouse.

I unzipped the flap and went inside. One dollar thrift store blankets covered the yellow plastic floor and two overstuffed pillows joined them. Strewn about the tiny space was a portable charger, two empty jugs that used to contain blood, and a spare jacket. I laid down inside my space and connected my phone to the portable charger. My mind begged for rest, but I knew that I needed to refuse it for as long as possible. I couldn’t keep waiting for cloudy days to go out. If I was going to survive I knew that I needed to finally get a vampire sleep schedule. I groaned as I realized that if I was going to stay up all night I needed something to do, and that meant leaving my cozy tent and going out into the city. I checked the time and realized that I should start looking for butcher shops. It was almost time for places to close and if I wanted to find one before that, I knew I needed to start then. I steeled myself, pulled on my jacket and stepped out into the cloudy twilight.

I decided to head to old town, I heard that there were a lot of butcher shops open there. I walked briskly one foot in front of the other, head down, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. With my sensitive hearing, my ears picked up the chatter of the crowd and the engine garble. I followed my nose to a particular scent which I assumed to blood, but when I finally looked up I wasn’t where I was expecting to be.

“Yorkie Harmon Public Library,” the sign proclaimed.

I groaned and realized that I must have been just following my feet all of that time, muscle memory was strong after all. I smiled and I remembered all of the times my mom had dragged me there, saying that I needed a quiet place to study. I chuckled and reminisced about how there was never much studying, but always a lot of fun. As I started walking in the direction of an actual butcher shop I wondered if my mom was doing well. Even though she hadn’t depended on me financially, I knew that my mom must have been having a hard time without me, especially since Dune was gone too. She had always loved talking Dune out on walks. A part of my mind wanted my mom to be struggling, after all, I didn’t just leave, I had been kicked out, by my own mom no less. Though, I mused, it was pretty much my own fault.

As I followed the smell of blood to the butcher shop, I remembered that my friend had invited me to a party. The old me was so excited, I had been trying desperately to be cool. I quit theater and stopped going to the library as much. Finally, it seemed like my work was paying off. I had spent practically the entire day preparing. Prepping my outfit, practicing my dance moves, rehearsing who I was going to talk to and how I was going to talk to them. My mom had originally been apprehensive but eventually was no match for my supreme powers of persuasion. I giggled and thought about the hour I spent thinking up my argument. As long as I was back by eleven and didn’t drink any alcohol my mom was allowing me to go. Even though I didn’t know how strictly I was going to follow those rules, I didn’t protest, I knew that it was either go with the rules or stay home. When I got the party it was exactly what I had imagined. Darkroom, rainbow lights, mellow dance music on the speakers, I loved every second of it. Until he came along.

I looked up and found that I had already reached the first stop. Gorgon’s Butchery, I read. Opening the doors carefully I stepped inside and was greeted by a muscular woman wearing a leather apron. I approached her cautiously and asked about the shop’s blood sales. I was a bit deflated when the woman told me that they didn’t sell any animal blood of any kind at that store. Not even pig blood. I left the shop and tried to be hopeful on my way to the next place.

As I was searching for the next butcher shop my mind wandered back to the night I had been turned. At the party, I was approached by a guy. His face was clean shaven and smooth, his hair pulled up and back into a dark messy bun. I had been fascinated by him and flattered that he decided to talk to me of all of the people who were at that party. He had pulled me upstairs and into a bedroom. At this point warning bells had started flashing in my mind, though there was no way I would have guessed what was about to transpire. I quickly asserted that I wasn’t interested in him that way, and he had laughed. Even then, four months later, the words he said next haunted me.

“You don’t even know what’s comin’” He smiled darkly.

The next thing I knew I was waking up the next morning, limbs sprawled all over the bed. I could barely remember the night before, and my vision was blurry. My body was throbbing all over and there was blood on the sheets. I felt faint and woozy. I had the owner of the house call me a cab back home. As I sat in the back, my exhausted brain tried to think of a good excuse to give my mom. When I returned home at eight o’clock the next morning with no excuse and a feeble apology my mom had grounded me and sentenced me to spend the rest of the day trapped in my bedroom. I hadn’t really minded the rest then, though now I was thankful for it. I hadn’t known it at the time but that was the last time I had slept peacefully in my own bed.

I walked into the next butcher shop and waited for someone I could talk to come out. This time I was elated when I heard that they sold blood, by the gallon. Though my spirits fell severely when I heard that they only sold pig’s blood. I had sampled many varieties of blood in the past several months and one thing that I was certain about was my hatred of pigs' blood. Even though the sun was rapidly setting underneath the cloud cover I knew that if I ran I could get in one last butcher shop before nightfall.

My feet pounded the pavement, and I thought about the sickness. During my grounding after the party, I had barely been able to get out of bed. At first, I had no appetite and even a cup of water was too much for my stomach, then I was ravenous, it seemed like nothing in the world could satisfy my hunger. My mom did her best to try to take care of me, but she had to work so most of the time it was just me and Dune, my dog. I had to slow my pace as I thought of what had happened to Dune. My hunger had been growing worse and even though I was insatiable the thought of eating made me nauseous. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was playing with and petting Dune.

One night I had been energized and stir crazy, I had taken to pacing around the living room and clutching my roaring stomach. Dune chased after me as I went around and around, knowing in her instinctual dog brain that something was wrong. After hours of pacing and trying to suppress the pain, my mind was clouded and dim. I knew that if I didn't do something that I would go crazy if I hadn’t already become insane. I had regarded Dune with wild eyes and let my instincts and drives taint my thinking. I had called the pup over, looked into her eyes and saw the infinite trust the dog had in me. At that moment I thought nothing of living breathing creature in my arms, and only of my own hunger. Not even stopping to guess what I was doing, I stuck out my now sharp incisors and pierced the pup’s soft flesh. Dune had struggled and wined, but slowly, ever so slowly, her strength began to fade until I was left draining a limp corpse. Consciously I knew that the blood tasted rancid and acidic, but my subconscious couldn’t get enough. That’s how my mom found me, curled up on the living room floor my teeth still deep inside my now dead dog. Next thing I know I was out of the street with nothing but my backpack and a change of clothes, staring at the face of my horrified mom.

I got the final butcher shop just as the owner was standing outside and locking the front door. I asked him about blood and with a firm headshake he told me that they didn’t sell any. I walked away and weighed my options, it was either pig’s blood, or starve. Though, I thought, I did have one option if I was really desperate.

When I had been walking away from my home and trying desperately to think of somewhere to go someone had tapped me on the shoulder. Thinking that it was my mom I turned around gleefully and recoiled in horror as I saw his face. Some subtle had grown on the once bare cheeks but I recognized the guy from the party, the one I now knew had turned me into a vampire.

“Come on, “He gestured as he started walking, “My place isn’t far from here.”

I clutched my backpack and spit in his face, “I’m not going anyway with you, monster!”

He laughed, “Don’t get fussy, Kiera we’re both monsters now. You were just kicked out and you have nowhere to go. If you come now I’ll even teach you how to drink from an actual person. Dog blood is good in a pinch, but tastes hella nasty”

Hot tears pricked my face as I looked into the guys' dark eyes in defiance, “I will never be a monster like you, and I will never drink human blood! Just LEAVE ME ALONE!”

As I stomped away the guy yelled that I would always be welcome and I held myself back from shouting something in return. I remembered the entire incident like it was yesterday. I remembered gazing at the night sky and telling myself firmly that there was no way that I would ever drink human blood. I didn’t want to be like the monster who had made me kill my dog, I didn’t want to be a monster.

I walked down the shadowy city blocks and regarded the growing moonlight as it seeped through the clouds. I thought about my mom, without me and Dune my mom would be all alone. Every rainy night, every hard bench bed, I had thought about just going back home, but I knew that I couldn’t. I knew my mom well, and I knew that she would never accept me as I am now, she could never accept me as a vampire.

I got back to my rooftop without incident and was surprised to see the silhouettes of people moving around up there. Thinking that they were city workers or repair people I quickly dashed up the fire escape. When I finally pulled myself onto the roof I gritted my teeth. Six guys, none of them wearing any sort of uniform of any kind were trashing my tent. The yellow plastic was ripped and my blankets were strewn out everywhere. I rushed towards them and geared myself for a fight.

“What are you-” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence before someone came at me from behind and hit the back of my head.

I turned around, floor spinning dizzy and regarded the person who had just hit me. He was tall and muscular, with a cruel smile emblazoned on his tan face. I pushed him down and made sure he was knocked out, but by the time I finished with him the rest of the guys had come over. They started beating on me. Punches and kicks were thrown my way and I did my best to dodge most of them. But five against one was hard and I was losing ground. One landed a heavy roundhouse kick to my stomach and knocked me off balance, sending me stumbling backward. One of the guys got in front of me and I caught the punch that was being thrown my way. I used my signature move and used his arm as leverage to throw him to the ground. As I was leaning forward, making sure my victim was out, disaster struck. One of the guys came up behind me and landed a solid kick on my back. I landed face-first on the concrete and tasted my own dark blood in my mouth. I heard the remaining three guys laugh as one of them place his boot on my head and pushed down.

I tried to roll over and fight, but I didn’t have the strength. I was tired, I was hungry, I had been living on the streets for months. I blinked back tears as I heard the words “kill her” thrown around. I felt more helpless than I had in months. For months I had tried to live on my own, to survive, but it seemed like that was coming to an end. I sobbed and realized that this was the end to my life as a vampire.

“These guys are the real monsters,” I thought bitterly.

As this thought crossed my mind it seemed like something in my head finally clicked. No, I told myself firmly, these were just people, these were just humans. The only monster that rooftop was me, and I was allowing myself to be killed. I had been resenting my mom for not being able to accept who I had become, but it seemed like I hadn’t accepted it either. I didn’t want to be like the one who had turned me so much that I had been ignoring crucial parts of my new existence. I was a vampire, and that meant that I needed human blood to survive. As felt my skull being pressed into the concrete I realized that drinking animal blood had been doing but weaken me. I realized that if I wanted to thrive I needed to do what was natural, not what was right.

In a burst of strength, I turned over and grabbed the boot that had been pressing my face into the concrete. I used it to pull the man onto the ground and I stood up triumphant. I wrenched the guy up by his collar and held him above my head. I looked him in his once cruel, now deeply terrified green eyes as I lowered him down slowly. I breathed on his pasty neck and was reminded of my late dog, Dune. Only this time I remarked, as I drank deep from his arteries. The blood wasn’t rancid, it was sweet.

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