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otomegema · 3 years

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title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.��

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #help ive fallen into gojo brain rot and cant get up

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dilucids · 3 years

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Childe oneshot; Blinded dreams

001. angst && death/mentions of death.

summary; you don't know who childe thinks of when he calls you, but you know it's not the you you wish you were.

( i feel bad for ditching y'all for this long so have one of my drafted oneshots originally written for wattpad, && if the reach on this is good, i'll let you guys have more [teehee] )

You met during summer.

And despite the sun blaring down, sending harsh rays to melt the skin right off your flesh, you did not know if the reason you were red faced was because of said sun, or because there was a pretty boy ( one of the prettiest, mind you ) that lived right next to you and he was currently hanging on the fence, waving at you with a smile on his face.

"Heya, (name)!" The way he says your name is breathtaking, almost as if it lived on the tip of his tongue yet he seemed foreign to it, as if he had not uttered the syllables in many years. Like a flower blossoming over the years, finally pulled out premature by small, fat fingers belonging to a mere child who wanted to see the flower in bloom. ( You forget you have never seen this child before. ) The flower is ruined however, its fragile petals fall into their palm and they shrug, as if they hadn't taken a life and move onto the next one, repeating the process. ( How does he know your name again? )

He peers at you ( it's similar to the way you would look at an old friend or the way your mother looks when you're going to family reunions and she has the bittersweet revelation that her father is still dead, ) and you blink, head rolling to the side, holding the bouquet of freshly picked dead flowers close to your chest, "How'd you know my name?"

His jaw slacks for just a second before his smile is back on his face, pulling himself up and flinging himself over the fence, landing right in front of you and causing you to take a tiny step back, "magic?" He tests the answer and shakes his head to revoke it when you furrow your eyebrows, not appreciating the joke. "Your mum was talking to mine," he speaks the truth when your face is unchanging to his plain joke.

You hum, and then walk back to the flower bed that was left behind by the previous family, and continue snapping stems off as collecting them in a heap next to you. The ginger boy follows you, although he doesn't sit down like you do but squats, hands close to his chest and watches as you pluck the flowers straight out of the earth. Although he followed you, he seemed more interested in the dead flowers, staring at one until you ripped it out the earth and then moved onto the next one.

He reaches out for a flower but you stop him, holding his fingers in yours and shaking your head when he looks over at you, questioning. "Thorns." An understanding breath escapes him as he continues watching you instead, your fingers dig against the dirt slightly, pushing it away before gripping the stem with your pointer and thumb before tugging ( there are many times when the force causes you to fall backwards slightly sometimes but it doesn't stop you. )

"Ajax!" You both hear coming from the boy's, probably Ajax, garden and you peer over him to when he suddenly stands up, going to jump back over the fence.

You test the name in your head a few times before your mouth follows, "Ajax," you stumbled a little but he turns around anyways, humming with a smile on his face, "I'll bring you a proper flower one day."

He nods and then disappears over the fence. You hear scoldings from his mother but tune them out. ( You didn't like the way his name felt new on your tongue, it didn't match the way he called you. )

You begged your mother to buy purple carnation seeds later that day.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are ten and 'Ajax' still sounds weird to you but you persevere.

It doesn't sound weird when your mother is the one calling him, asking him if he had enough pillows to be laying on your bedroom floor and he nods, leaning against the frame on your bed as you both bid goodnight and your mother nods, closing the door behind her. Almost immediately after the door clicks close, Ajax leans back onto your bed, making you quirk an eyebrow. "I can only sleep with two pillows."

You peer down at the head of his makeshift bed, at the foot of the closet next to your bed. There was only one pillow, you sigh and drop the pillow onto the floor. You don't wait until he says anything and slip into your own bed, pulling the cover over yourself, facing the wall rather than Ajax.

( You dream that night.

You dream of a world where man had the powers of Gods and Gods walked amongst men. Where the world was shaped by years of wars and work, where statues of Seven Gods were erected upon the land, granting peace and protection for people and animals alike.

You are sat around a marble circular table, the smell of food and tea hitting your nose. You peer up, there's a man sat a little across from you, clad in colours of cor lapis. His amber eyes hold no emotion, a diamond of memories steeping in his eyes as he brings up the cup to his lips and sips behind the hand he also brings up. His form is nothing less than godly and he sets the cup down without a sound━━━━ like a warrior. His shoulders roll down like waterfalls cascading from mountains, his hair is pulled back and bangs freely fall like leaves of a tree and you can see the scenery of Liyue in his very soul.

You don't know his name but it slips off your tongue perfectly, "Zhongli, where is Hu tao?"

(( Who is Hu Tao? ))

"The Director will be late, she is dealing with," he clears his throat in a way that lets you know his following words are a lie, "other troubling matters within the funeral parlor."

You nod, although you have no idea what he is talking about. "Do you know how late she will be?" You inquire, watching his eyebrows furrow and fingers flex, linen gloves pressing against his fingers as he does so.

You see Morax in him for a little while before his thinking subsides and he presses his lips into a line, "The Director did not state how long she will be."

You hum with nothing else to say and begin bringing your attention to the food that was beginning to grow cold on the table, "help yourself please," you signal Zhongli to the food and before he speaks, an amusing smile breaks out on your face, "I will be taking care of the bill."

His troubles subsides and he follows your words, grabbing the chopsticks by his ceramic plate. You two fall into a comforting silence, which is a peculiar yet nice feeling. Rather than a business meeting, it feels more like two old friends meeting up for a small chat.

A while passes with no sign of Hu Tao and you see Zhongli peer up from his food, eyes tracking another entity who had walked into the building, so you throw your head back a little.

"Childe." The boy looks eyes with you and a smile breaks out on his face when he sees you, the waves in his eyes crashing against the shore as his eyes crease. (( Childe? That was Ajax. ))

And you wake up to the sea washing up on shore eyes gazing down at you. )

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are twelve, two years have passed and the dream you had stayed with you like a distant memory. Ajax's name still doesn't sound nice when you speak it and you feel like you're ruining it so you settled on a nickname, Aj. ( Only two letters, how could you make them sound wrong? )

"Aj," you call out the boy, whose smile widens when he sees you. Two syllables, but that's how you know him. He dismisses himself from the bind of conversation of two girls, who seemed pretty interested in him ( as a man ) and you knew that for sure because when you stepped your foot into their conversation, they glared at you slightly before stomping away.

The walk home was slightly awkward. For you anyways, because there were words that were burning at the tip of your tongue and sometimes letting lava erupt was a bad idea but leaving it to build up is also a bad idea.

"You okay?" Ajax almost gives you a 'go', peering up at you slightly ( you were taller than him, a feat you were quite proud of ).

You clear your throat slightly, starting off cautiously, "remember when we first met?"

And you don't know what you had expected because a stupid smile lights up on his face and he answers straightly, "no."

( Your poor two years of taking care of purple carnations, down the drain for a boy like this. )

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are fifteen, stood in front of Ajax, holding a bouquet of purple carnations and a box of assorted chocolates behind your back. Sweat collects in the palms of your hand and you know it's not from the heat, you wipe both palms on the side of your sweater, watching him talk to his friends to give yourself a little more time for confidence before walking over there.

But the time shortens when his friend notices you, pointing out your figure to Ajax and he turns to you, a whole 180 degrees with his entire body and waves at you with his entire arm, you wave back with a shaky smile on your face when he begins to run your way after bidding his goodbyes to his friends.

He skids to a stop when in front of you, and can obviously see the flowers you were attempting to hide because a sly smile perks itself on his face. ( You would never admit to it, but he looked really good when he was smiling. )

"What are you hiding?" He hums, leaning down slightly with his hands behind his back as he attempts to see, you turn away, hiding the gifts for a little while longer. "Hold still," you press him down with one hand on his shoulder, stopping him and he straightens his back, humming.

"Listen," you take a deep breath because it's inescapable for you to not ramble this out, "we've been friends for a really long time, yeah? And I know this is really weird and out of the blue but I really like you and I'm sorry if I'm ruining our friendship but I've weighed the pros and cons of not having you as a friend and as someone I walk past in hallways and glance away awkwardly at, and the cons actually outweigh the pros but I really don't know if I can keep these feelings to myself because you're the only re━━"

A hand on your head stops you from talking anymore ( he's taller than you now, taller than most your peers actually ) and his smile is still there, "you're not breathing dear."

You don't realise he's called you 'dear', you feel like he's always been calling you that so it skips past your mind, and you take a deep breath. Presenting the gifts from behind you, Ajax stares at you with little expression on his face.

"I love you, Childe."

( Who is Childe? Why did he come to your mind now and why is Ajax tearing up?

There were many questions that entered your mind then, but they were all quickly forgotten when Ajax pushes your gifts aside, placing both hands on either side of your cheek and quite literally pulling you up to his height, pressing his lips against yours. You're both deaf to the sounds of whoops, whistles, and claps by his friends in the background as your arms circle his waist and his tears enters your kiss. )

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are nineteen, and the way Ajax calls you is deafening to your heart.

"(name)," he breaths, in an indescribable way as if to say 'my (name)' and it should give you butterflies but the way he looked at you made you feel as though you were a soul trapped in the wrong body. He was giving you everything you had ever wanted in a way you had never wished.

You should stop him, because he's not in love with you. He's in love with the person he sees in you, but who is that person? Why do they mean so much to him? Can't he forget them? Why do you remind him of them? Is he stupid?

And most importantly, why the hell isn't he letting you go? You've died already━━━━ even if he still retains all his past memories, does he even know how unfair his gaze is? The way he says your name? It makes you want to wake from your grave, located near Liyue ( because though Childe was from Snezhnaya, you lived and loved near the peaks of Liyue and qingxin flowers were made to bloom above your resting place, delicately and preciously ).

The way his breath was hitting your bare skin, his cold lips were barely touching your burning flesh, the goddamn way he was muttering your name under his breath and you think you've finally snapped but you come completely undone when he stops, glancing back up at you with his eyes.

( Memories wash over you in an instant, the years you spent with him in Liyue, even if he was a Fatui Harbinger and Zhongli advised you, albeit indirectly, not to get involved with them and Xiao, not so indirectly, with a scowl on his face and then the memory of him taking your life in Liyue, with a single arrow through your chest and the last thing you see is the tsunami of emotions in his eyes and Xiao pulling him off of you. You've lived for so long, through so many lives and yet he is the only one who could completely tear you apart and make you lose all reason. )

"I love you, Childe, but please," the way you call his name makes his heart ache, in ways it has never before. "Let me go." And you wash away from his shore like a fleeting memory.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Childe wakes up with his back sore and face cold due to leaning against your gravestone, he takes one hand to run through his hair, the other is placed above the grass where your body was buried and he peers down, grass entangled in his fingers, stabbing through the thin fabric of his glove like your hair did.

"Childe," he knows it's not you behind him, because you don't sound like a man nor a God and the way you called his name is more endearing, as if you were speaking a poem of two lovers but he turns anyways, and in his heart he hopes it's you.

But it's not, it's the Adeptus who held you close to his heart. Xiao's and Childe's relationship has never been good, simply because; a) their personalities clashed and b) they were on opposing sides but after your death, an unexplainable hatred grew in Xiao's heart for him.

( In Xiao's mind, Childe was the one who cared for his job more than you and heeded orders to end your life. ) Childe cracks a smile on his face, waving Xiao off before he says anything and pushes himself off your grave, "you don't need to say anything, I'm going," he says in a playful tone, as if he were leaving a party.

Xiao's eyebrows furrow, lips curling into a snarl when Childe walks past him, "despicable," he spits. ( But if Childe had asked you to, you would've taken your own life. )

#genshin impact #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin #genshin oneshot #genshin childe #childe #genshin tartagalia #childe x gender neutral reader #childe x reader #x reader

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cjfritos · 4 years

Text

In Dreams Begin (Jessa wedding story)

Obviously written by Cassandra Clare. I own no rights to this. This was included in first editions of The Lost Book of the White by her and Wesley Chu. It tells the story of Jem Carstairs and Tessa Gray’s wedding and explains why no one remembers it.

Unfortunately it does include some spoilers from LBW so if you have not read it yet, I don’t recommend reading it. Otherwise, enjoy :)

~~~

Magnus Bane was scheming.

To an untrained observer, the High Warlock of Brooklyn wouldn’t look like he was doing much of anything at all. For one thing, he was wearing purple silk pajamas. For another thing, he was in bed, leaning back against a pile of pillows with a spell book open in his lap.

Beside him, Alec Lightwood was stretched out on his side, deeply asleep. Earlier that day, Alec had taken their son, Max, to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. This had been at Magnus’s request—he wanted Max to have ample opportunity to tire himself out before bedtime. It worked almost too well. Max had made fast friends with a werewolf toddler named Eliza, and the two of them tore around the gardens blissfully for about three hours straight, Max crawling while Eliza ran, albeit unsteadily. Eliza’s mother had been quite surprised the first time Max levitated. Luckily, he was glamoured so only she and Alec noticed.

Though not possessed of much vocabulary, Eliza clearly wanted Max to levitate her as well. Fortunately, Max did not yet have that sort of skill. Alec and Max returned home happy, covered in mud, and—best of all—exhausted. Magnus really wanted them all to sleep through the night.

Magnus shifted position and peered across the room at the mantel clock atop the dresser, a hideous thing covered in putti that Ragnor had given him years ago. The room was lit only by a candle that burned with a blue flame on the table beside him, but he could make out the numbers. It was one forty-five a.m. Surely that was late enough. Surely even the Shadowhunters and Downworlders of the West Coast would be turning in. He’d given Catarina and Jem and Tessa a heads-up, after all, and as for the Blackthorns and Emma Carstairs, they were kids! And not even babies, with their bizarre and erratic relationship to sleep. Surely the would be asleep by now, worn out from running around on the beach or whatever it was that the residents of the Los Angeles Institute did all day. Yes, it was time.

Snuggling a little farther under the blanket, Magnus looked fondly over at Alec’s sleeping form, his black hair like spilled ink across the ivory pillowcase. He closed his book and set it on the bedside table. He mentally reached within, feeling about for a particular pocket of magic folded away deep inside, a self-contained bubble. I had been two weeks since he’d been freed from the influence of the Svefnthorn, and while the markings on his skin had faded, his teeth had shrunk back to their normal size, and the overcharged magic of the artifact had left his system, this one reserve of magical energy had lingered.

At first, Magnus had considered hanging on to it as a sort of insurance policy. A little extra magic went a long way, especially when the magic was this potent, and Magnus was quite certain that he and Alec and their friends would have plenty more dangers to face in the years to come. That was their job, after all. But clinging to the magic out of fear of imagined dangers didn’t feel good. It felt like letting demons have a small victory over him, playing right into their scaly, demonic hands. No, instead he had resolved to use the power in a decidedly un-demon-sanctioned manner—to create joy.

Magnus shut his eyes. Oneiromancy, the study and practice of dream magic, had never been one of his specialties. But with the added kernel of power from the Sveftnthorn, he felt quite confident that he could pull of this one feat, even as complex as it was. The trickiest part, it seemed to him, was holding himself in that drowsy state between waking and sleeping, while maintaining enough awareness to cast the spell. He lay back against the pillows, letting his eyelids flutter shut for just a moment….

~~~

When Magnus opened his eyes again, he was standing in the middle of Blackfriars Bridge, the panorama of London spread out around him in all directions.

He took a deep breath of river-tasting air. The sky was a dark violet, the sun only just beginning to rise. There was no traffic, which was a distinct advantage to throwing a party on a dream bridge rather than on the real thing. There was a warm breeze in the air, and the Thames danced beneath it, silvery in the dawn light. Had he ever noticed wind in a dream before? Magnus wasn’t sure. He admired the view from the bridge—it seemed just about right, though he hadn’t been here for a couple decades. Perhaps some ugly new construction had taken place since then, but who would fault him for omitting that?

“Magnus!”

He turned and saw two figures hurrying toward him. It was Tessa and Jem, both in what Magnus assumed was their pajamas. Tessa’s were gray with white rabbits on them. Jem’s were dark-green-and-navy-blue plaid. They were barefoot, but that wouldn’t matter on a dream bridge. He started to smile as they got closer and he could see that they were both giddy and laughing, a hint of disbelief on their faces.

Tessa threw her arms around him, knocking him off-balance. He marveled at how solid and real she felt.

“It’s working!” she said in wonder.

“A magical discipline unexplored is always worth exploring,” Magnus said, stepping back. “I may be late to the game with oreiromancy, but I plan to make up for my tardiness all at once, right now. Is that what your planning to wear to your wedding?”

“It’s not traditional, but neither was the yellow cotton shirt dress I wore for the courthouse wedding. And I do love bunnies,” said Tessa. “I’m all right with it if Jem is.”

“I would marry you if you were wearing a barrel,” said Jem.

“But why would I be wearing a barrel?” said Tessa.

They were both grinning at each other stupidly. Magnus decided something needed to be done; he wasn’t sure how long his magic would hold out.

“I won’t have it!” he said. “If I’m to throw you a dream wedding, you must be properly dressed for the occasion. It’s in my contract. I do hope you read the fine print.”

He snapped his fingers, and Jem’s pajamas were replaced by an exquisitely cut black suit. Magnus aimed for something that suggested the style of the Shadowhunter gear Jem had worn long ago, in the first years he knew Tessa. Wedding runes were intricately embroidered on the lapels in gold thread. As Jem marveled at the excellent fit, Magnus turned his attention to Tessa.

“I know,” he said, “a wedding dress is a highly personal choice. But as our other guests will be arriving momentarily, and time is of the essence, I’m going to take a stab at it.”

“You have my express permission,” Tessa said.

Magnus snapped his fingers again, and the Tessa was wearing a beautiful sleeveless gown of pale silver, with a full skirt that reminded Magnus of the first time he’d met her, at a vampire ball. A couple more flicks of his fingers, and her hair rearranged itself beautifully into an updo, with a few tendrils loose around her face. One more gesture, and Tessa’s familiar jade pendant appeared around her neck—as did the pearl bracelet she always wore, a gift from Will on their thirtieth anniversary.

Tessa looked startled, reaching up to touch her hair, then brushing her hands over the gown. “How do I look?”

Jem looked very young again as he gazed at her, his dark eyes full of emotion. “Ni hen piao liang,” he whispered. You are very beautiful.

Magnus turned away to give them a moment—and felt familiar arms close around him.

Alec kissed Magnus on his forehead—being slightly shorter than Magnus, he had to pull Magnus down a bit to do it, which Magnus didn’t mind at all—and muttered, “You’re a sentimental bastard, aren’t you?” in his ear.

But he was grinning all over his face as he turned to greet Tessa and Jem, congratulating them. They both looked delighted to see him.

“So let me get this straight,” Alec said. “You, me, Tessa, and Jem will all remember this with perfect recall. For the other guests, they’ll remember it at first, but then it will fade away, the way dreams do?”

“That is correct. They won’t recall it the way we will, but their souls will be present, and glad for it. Well, mostly glad for it,” Magnus said.

“What do you mean, ‘mostly’?” Jem said nervously.

“I mean that I’m not sure how Church will feel about the whole thing.”

“Church!” Alec and Jem exclaimed at the same time, and turned to see the grumpy Persian cat sauntering toward them down the center of the bridge.

Tessa laughed. “Well, he does sleep twenty hours a day. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I took the liberty of adding him to the guest list you gave me,” Magnus said. “I’m trying to get on his good side.”

“Why?” Alec asked, incredulous. “He’s a cat.”

“So he won’t hate me forever when I do this.” Magnus snapped his fingers, and a silver bow in the same fabric as Tessa’s dress appeared around Church’s neck. Church’s eyes widened for a moment. Then he sat down, and after a moment, became very focused on cleaning his front paw.

“Now,” Magnus said, “I simply must get this bridge decorated.”

“It’s decorated perfectly,” said a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw Clary, who was holding Max. Behind her was Jace, followed by Isabelle and Simon, who were leaning together, whispering conspiratorially. Jocelyn and Luke were there, looking slightly unkempt, and Magnus remembered that they were in the process of remodeling a barn at Luke’s farm so Jocelyn could expand her painting studio. Ragnor and Catarina had also appeared, as well as a whole gaggle of kids—the Blackthorn clan. Julian and Helen, Tiberius and Livia, Drusilla and Octavian. Emma Carstairs was with them, though she broke away from the group immediately, running to hug Clary. They were the same height now, Magnus noticed with amusement. Max had escaped from Clary and was riding on Alec’s shoulders now, babbling a story to Helen Blackthorn and her wife, Aline. They looked very amused, though it was unlikely they understood even a quarter of what he said.

Maryse and Kadir were there too, already deep in conversation with Jocelyn and Luke. Kadir hadn’t been on the guest list Jem and Tessa had given Magnus, because they didn’t really know him, but Magnus had added him as Maryse’s plus-one. It never hurt to butter up your boyfriend’s mother, especially when she was willing to babysit for days at a time.

A couple Silent Brothers had appeared—Enoch? Shadrach? Magnus was slightly embarrassed to admit that they all looked alike to him, now that Jem was no longer counted among their number as Brother Zachariah. Magnus hadn’t known if the Gregori would be able to attend, since they didn’t normally sleep. One of them—Enoch?—inclined his hooded head slightly at Magnus, acknowledging this mad thing he was doing as worthwhile. At least that was how Magnus chose to interpret the gesture.

Octavian was climbing Jace like a jungle gym. Clary was talking with Julian and Emma, while Tiberius stood near his older brother, looking around at London with fierce curiosity in his gray eyes. Livia and Drusilla were perched on the railing of the bridge, Livia chatting animatedly with Simon and Isabelle, Drusilla looking around shyly. Catarina went to lean beside her, asking her a question. Magnus looked at the motley assortment of clothing on the assembled group. Mostly casual, though there were more pajamas as well. Magnus made two sweeping gestures, and all at once everyone was looking very sharp in formal attire. Even better, they barely seemed to notice the change. Magnus was impressed. Oneiromancy—who knew!

A hand gripped his arm. It was Tessa, who looked close to tears. “Magnus. I can’t believe you’re doing this for us. I…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

Magnus regarded her fondle. “Tessa, most people’s idea of a dream wedding is not a literal dream wedding. But since yours is, I am happy to oblige. Shall we get this show on the road?”

Jem and Tessa took their places on either side of Magnus, and the guests gathered around. The sun had climbed well above the horizon, casting rays of warm light between the long shadows of the wedding guests.

“Dear friends,” Magnus said to Jem and Tessa, “we are honored to share this moment with you, and I am doubly honored to be given the chance to speak. Several hundred years ago I got very drunk and woke up as ordained minister. Today I have decided that doing so was a wise choice after all.”

Jocelyn snorted, then looked embarrassed. Luke grinned at her.

“Joking aside, it is impossible to stand here with you all and not feel that there is some greater plan at work, some greater force that has brought these two souls across more than a century to be joined as one.”

Clary’s eyes were glistening. Jace reached into his pocket and offered her what looked like a handkerchief but was more likely a soft cloth for polishing blades. She gave a wry smile of recognition, and sniffled into it.

“I debated which customs to follow in officiating this wedding,” Magnus went on. “Whether to conduct a Shadowhunter ceremony, or a warlock ceremony, or even a mundane ceremony, for many worlds have been united in the two of you. But none of these traditions seemed quite appropriate on their own. So I’ve attempted to tailor a ceremony that will honor your unique paths.”

Magnus nodded to Jem, who reached into his pocket and produced a gold ring. Jem had requested a single word etched around the outside of it: Mizpah.

“It has been said,” said Magnus, “that when two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze. Theresa Gray, are you at one with James Carstairs in your inmost heart?”

Tessa’s eyes were wide, her face serious as she gazed at Jem. “I am,” she said, offering her hand to him. He slid the ring onto her finger.

The Magnus nodded at Tessa, who produced another ring, this one from thin air. Magnus had to suppress the grin that threatened to break his calm officiant expression. It delighted him that Tessa was engaging in a small amount of oneiromancy herself, and Jem looked as pleased by it as Magnus felt. This ring was the exact match of the first, and he knew what it said as well: May the Angel watch between me and thee when we are absent from one another.

“James Carstairs—Ke Jian Ming—are you at one with Theresa Gray in your inmost heart?”

“I am,” Jem said, delight visible in his dark eyes. Tessa put the ring on him, and they stood for a moment, holding hands and smiling at each other like they couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“For I am persuaded,” said Magnus, and Jem and Tessa both looked up at him, recognizing a piece of the old Shadowhunter wedding ceremony, though he had altered the wording, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor demons, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate these two.” He stretched out his arms. “Therefore I am overjoyed to declare this marriage consecrated, here in the presence of your friends and family. Tessa Gray and Jem Carstairs, you are married, and the world is better for it. You may kiss each other, not that you really need my permission.”

The assembled crowd cheered as Jem and Tessa kissed, a kiss that had been long delayed. The kiss continued, and Magnus slowly backed away, joining the cheering audience. “Let’s give them a moment,” he said, and happy chatter swelled around him.

Magnus noted that Alec was looking very foxy in his Armani suit, laughing with Maryse. Ragnor and Catarina were cackling over something, glad to be reunited now that Ragnor didn’t have to pretend to be dead—or at least, didn’t have to pretend with them. Clary had her arm draped over Emma’s shoulders, and Jace was arguing with Simon about how to properly tie a necktie. Tiberius and Drusilla were watching this argument as though it were a tennis match. Julian had lifted Octavian up so he could look down at the river flowing by beneath. Isabelle was joking with Livia, who was giving Max a piggyback ride. It was a miraculously good wedding.

Here they were, his friends. They’d literally gone into Hell twice with him now. He found himself reflecting on how much had changed. At first his life had felt like Magnus against the world. Then for years and years it had been Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor against the world. Now his community was a much larger group, one that had spread wide enough that instead of Magnus and his friends against the world, it felt like Magnus and his friends, a part of the world. Probably the best part of the world.

It was a good feeling.

“Look!” a girl’s voice cried. It was Drusilla, pointing up into the sky, eyes wide with wonder. There was a collective gasp as the crowd saw what she had spotted. Two figures flew overhead, riding a translucent white stallion with two gold hooves and two silver. One of them was a blond boy in ragged clothes, who looked down at the Blackthorns and waved. The figure in front of him was harder to make out—a gentry faerie in clothes just as ragged, only he was as translucent as the horse. The blond boy must be Mark Blackthorn, Magnus marveled. He’d “invited” the whole family, not knowing whether those who rode with the Wild Hunt could be summoned by dream magic. He had his answer, but it came with another mystery. Who was this companion, so close to Mark that they would appear together in a dream?

The riders made a circle overhead, while the Blackthorns shouted and waved, and Mark waved back, smiling an odd smile down at them. Then they faded away into the morning air.

Magnus saw with relief that Jace, Clary, Simon, Isabelle, and Alec had all move in around the Blackthorn kids, giving them an opportunity to talk about what they had just seen—their stolen brother, visiting so briefly.

He glanced over and saw Tessa and Jem still standing by the railing. There was a shimmer beside them, at the edge of the bridge, and the hair on the back of Magnus’s neck rose.

He knew Will Herondale had never haunted the moral world, because he had lived and died happily and had no unfinished business among the living. While Magnus didn’t subscribe to any specific set of beliefs about reincarnation or the afterlife, he had always had a strong sense that Will was waiting on the other bank of a dark river—be it Lethe, or some other border between the living and the dead. He was there among the green grass, the sky above as dark a blue as his eyes, waiting patiently for Jem and Tessa to join him, that he might lead them by the hand to whatever wonders lay beyond the veil.

The philosophers of ancient Greece had believed dreams and sleep to be the twin of death: Morpheus and Hades, standing side by side. And here, in that space, Magnus would not have been surprised if Will stretched out his hand to those he had loved best in life—to Jem and Tessa.

He was, after all, a Herondale, and very stubborn.

Alec sidled up to Magnus, leaving the Blackthorns in the capable hands of his siblings and their partners. The kids seemed to have taken Mark’s appearance as a sort of wedding favor created especially for them.

Alec twinned an arm around Magnus’s waist and pulled him close, kissing him on the temple. “It was very kind of you to use the last of your Svefnthorn magic on this,” he said.

Magnus leaned into Alec. “Well, it wasn’t enough magic to send us to the moon, or get us into the front row at the Alexander McQueen runway. So I figured, next best thing.”

Alec smiled at him pointedly. “Actually, I happen to know that you did it because you are an incredibly kind person, and that is one of the many things I love about you.”

“Oh dear,” Magnus said, turning to face him. “You know all my secrets.”

Then they were kissing, and kissing in a magical dream turned out to be just as perfect as kissing in the waking world.

#jessa #jem carstairs #tessa gray #magnus bane #jessa wedding #the lost book of the white #tlbotw #lbw #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #in dreams begin

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deadlyflames · 3 years

Text

So I wanted to make a playlist of songs for pitchanna. I’m going to put all the songs on a playlist on Spotify and maybe another playlist on YouTube as well.

Anyway, please make some song suggestions as you find them. Id like to keep updating this playlist.

New Constellations - Ryn Weaver - “Child of Neptune, I'm the daughter of the Sun. Keep showing me new constellations”

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine - “Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too so I stayed in the darkness with you”

Willow - Taylor Swift - “Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in, as if you were a mythical thing”

King - Lauren Aquilina - “Put all your faults to bed, you can be King again”

King and Lion Heart - Of Monsters and Men - “Howling ghosts they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear, but you're a king and I'm a lionheart”

Yellow Light - Of Monsters and Men - “Just grab a hold of my hand, I will lead you through this wonderland”

I Found - Amber Run - “And I've moved further than I thought I could but I missed you more than I thought I would”

Bloodstream - Stateless - “I think I might've inhaled you”

Music of the Night - Ramin Karimloo - “Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night”

Fools - Lauren Aquilina - “Those hardest to love need it most. I watched our bodies turn to ghosts”

Dark Paradise - Lana Del Ray - “Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise”

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish - “I'm scared. I've never fallen from quite this high, fallin' into your ocean eyes”

As the World Falls Down - David Bowie - “I'll place the moon within your heart”

Within You - David Bowie - “Everything I've done I've done for you. I move the stars for no one”

Ghosting - Mother Mother - “And this is why I have decided to leave your house and home un-haunted. You don't need poltergeists for sidekicks”

Seaside - Haux - “We can make for the seaside. Run until our lungs cave in”

Illuminated - Hurts - “We are all illuminated, Lights are shining on our faces, blinding.”

Wishing Girl - Lola Marsh - “'Cause you, you are my lonely star. And I'm, I'm your wishing girl”

Sunlight - Hozier - “Each day, you'd rise with me know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty. Oh, my sunlight”

Once Upon a Dream - Lana Del Ray - “But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream”

Undisclosed Desires - Muse - “I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart”

Dark Horse - Our Last Night - “So you wanna play with magic? Girl, you should know what you're falling for”

Can’t Pretend - Tom Odell - “Love I hope you know how much my heart depends”

Tightrope - Sara Bareilles - “You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream”

Nitesky (feat. John LaMonica) - Robot Koch - “You come through like a light in the dark, give me sight”

Sick of Losing Soulmates - dodie - “God knows where I would be if you hadn't found me sitting all alone in the dark”

The Scientist - Coldplay - “Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are.”

Pieces - Red - “I come to you in pieces so you can make me whole”

Starlight - Muse - “I'll never let you go if you promise not to fade away”

So Contagious - Acceptance - “I know it's crazy but I'm hoping to take a hold of you”

A Thousand Years - Christina Peri - “I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more”

Push Pull - Purity Ring - “I crept up in you and I wouldn’t let go”

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls - “You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now”

Mountain Sound - Of Monsters and Men - “Alone we traveled on with nothing but a shadow”

Corrupt - Depeche Mode - “Soon you'll be crying and wishing you dreamt me”

#pitchanna #pitch black #princess anna #frozen #rotg #rise of the guardians #frozen 2 #queen anna #anna #blackheart #pitchanna playlist #playlist #music #Spotify

36 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {15}***

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, LOTS OF WORDS, SMUUUUT, Angst

DO NOT READ AT WORK!!

Words: 6.8k

Note: Okay, so this ask/request came in and I was all prepped to write it as a one shot, but I had so many separate ideas that sprang to mind for it and from it. As of right now, I am going to play this one by ear. Hell, I might just keep writing it as long as we’re all in our quarantine/self-isolation. So, it might be one part every week, or I might change it. I honestly have no idea, so let’s start with calling it a mini-series and see where it goes. Thank you anon for the request, hope it’s cool I tweak, twist and stretch this out.

Note: Recommended listening “Barefoot In The Park” By: James Blake feat. Rosalia. You’re welcome!

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. Thank you for reading as always!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine: Day 55-

Groaning, you rolled on the surface you were laying on until you were on your back. With eyes closed, you could see the blinding sunlight beaming on you. Peeping your eyes open just a smidge, you quickly regretted it. Instantly you rolled back onto your stomach and groaned in the pillow. Your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t the only thing of yours that was. For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed and just relished the feel of the soft covers and plush mattress underneath you. You couldn’t have moved if you hadn’t smelled coffee and food cooking. Your brain was confused; you shouldn’t have been able to smell food all the way in the guesthouse.

You eased up onto your elbows with squinted eyes and took in the blurry bed you were laying on. It didn’t look like the one you’d been sleeping in for the last several weeks. Looking to the right then left, you saw an abundance of wood. This definitely wasn’t the guesthouse. You rolled over and let the full brutalness of the sun bathe you. As you shielded your eyes, they were able to focus and slowly take in your surroundings. Outside the window, you could see nothing but the greenery of treetops, and to the left was a desk. That was when you paused.

“Oh god. Tell me you didn’t, tell me you did not.”

You looked around some more until the mess of scattered clothes on the flood caught your eye. You began to panic just a little. When you saw four opened condom wrappers across the floor, that was when you panic set in. Dropping back to the bed, you slapped your hands to your face and groaned.

“Holy shit, I did. Oh, fuck!”

As you brought your legs up to your chest to hover in the air, you felt the stretch and dull ache in your nether regions. You gasped and dropped your limbs back to the bed.

“Oh—my—god.” You laid there in shock for several moments. You’d never felt morning after ache before. The only other time you did was your first few times ever having sex. You were long past a virgin now.

You focused and tired to think about what the hell happened last night. You’d drank a lot, but it wasn’t more than usual, it was actually less. The grogginess in your brain fought back. It was as if it didn’t want you to remember. You laid there for at least five minutes, wracking your brain, forcing it to relinquish the information you needed. No matter how much you tried to push through, you couldn’t remember. Rolling to your feet, you scurried to your clothes and hurriedly dressed doing your best to ignore the condom wrappers. Before you walked out, the room curiosity got the better of you, making you look at one of the wrappers. Your eyes widened, seeing golden foil and the “XL” printed across it. Chris Evans wore an extra-large condom. You definitely wanted a minute to take that in, but the smells wafting around you told you to make your getaway.

As you slinked down the short hall, you peeped around the corner, but the kitchen area was empty. Thinking he may have just gone back to the house, you stepped out and walked to the door. At that moment, every memory from the night before decided to come back, making you run smack dab into the glass door to fall back onto your ass.

“Fuck!”

A scuffle of footsteps, but you were too wrapped up in the frenzy of memories that were racing through your mind that you didn’t register much else. You remembered the conversation, remembered his confession, remembered the hottest make-out session you’d ever had on the table. Then you remembered him carrying you like you weighed nothing and him teasing you mercilessly in the bed you’d just left. Once you thought about the bed, everything became a lot more sultry. You remembered his moans, god his moans were sexy, and the whimpers were even sexier. Your body felt like it also remembered just what he’d done to you, how he’d tasted you, bit you, controlled your body only to fuck you into unconsciousness. He’d actually fucked you to sleep.

“Holy shit!” Your eyes flew open to see Chris above you peering down with worry etched on his face.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your pride was definitely hurt. You’d just run into a fucking door. Groaning, you slowly sat up. Chris put his arm behind your back to brace you.

“I’m fine.”

“Did you just run into the door?”

Snorting, your laughter echoed in the small space as you rubber your sore forehead. “I totally did.”

“Yeah. Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to sneak out in your morning-after walk of shame,” Chris teased. Again, you snorted and laughed loudly.

“Shut up! I am not doing any walk of shame.”

“Oh, but you are sneaking out,” Chris accused.

He’d caught you there. When you looked at him, he didn’t look angry. The problem was you couldn’t really read his expression. Sighing, you dropped your forehead to his bare shoulder.

“I am sneaking out,” you admitted.

“Yeah, the question is why?”

“At first I couldn’t remember what the hell happened, and then I saw the condoms and knew something happened, and I just remembered. I freaked out.” You lifted your head and looked to him.

“Why? Is this something you—no longer want?”

“Things are always different in the morning. It was just—an adjustment. This was new.”

Chris studied you for a few moments before he nodded and looked down. He looked as if he were thinking about what he should say. You could see the question on his face before his mouth opened.

“Do you regret last night?”

He didn’t look up to meet your eyes immediately; his head lingered downward like he didn’t want to look in your eyes for fear of what he might see. You took the time to think about his question. Did you regret last night? It was a good question. It was a question you would have thought about in the bed, but it hadn’t occurred to you to think about it. You felt your walls trying their best to come back up and quickly rebuild themselves. You could feel them closing in around your heart. They were rebuilding so quickly you knew it would be seconds before they were entirely up. If that happened, you knew you’d walk out of the door and back to the guesthouse to bury any memory of this slip-up. You would never think about this again, and you’d make every excuse to avoid him again.

The things you felt last night scared the shit out of you. The things you saw in his eyes scared you. The way he touched you, commanded your body with ease, and held you all night shook you to your core and terrified you. Everything over the last few weeks contradicted and discredited everything you thought you knew as facts about him. He didn’t hate you; he liked you. He didn’t think you were annoying; he’d had a crush the entire time. He regretted his actions on the fourth of July. He’d wanted you this entire time.

You must have remained quiet for too long because he lifted his head and gazed into your eyes, and the softness of the blue in them had your belly flipping. These reactions to him were new, and you hadn’t had enough time to wrap your head around them. Your lips felt like moving to speak words you couldn’t possibly mean, so you pressed them shut. You rose onto your knees and slid closer to him before you threw your leg over his and sat on his lap.

“Does this feel like I regret anything?” You pressed your lips to his and kissed him.

Chris didn’t move. He stayed there, letting you move your lips across his. The kiss started slow but quickly picked up speed. As you teased and sucked his lips, Chris still didn’t move. Only when your tongue delved into his mouth to wrap around his tongue did he kiss you back. Chris moaned on your mouth as he took control of the kiss and wrapped his arms around your back.

The two of you sat there on the floor making out, and every second that passed only made both of you more desperate for the other. You teased the skin of his back with your nails gently raking them up and down his skin. Chris pulled you closer so you sat atop his already hardened length. You groaned on him and sank your fingers in his hair holding his head in the process. Instead of risking more conversation, you reached for the hook of your top and undid it before you pulled it off, so your breasts pressed against his chest. You felt his deep guttural moan reverberate against you.

Chris slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps. You weren’t sure where he was going until you felt the kitchen counter underneath you. With the way he was pressed against your core, you could tell just how badly he wanted you.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Starving,” you muttered before you crashed your lips back to his.

“Then let me feed you,” Chris groaned out as he pressed his length into you even more. You bit his bottom lip and pulled away before you pushed him back just enough for you to slide down to the floor before him. Once on your knees, you pulled his sweats that were carelessly balancing at his hips down to reveal just the meal you intended on.

Wasting not one second, you sank your mouth onto his length and decided to take what you wanted. You didn’t bother going slow; there was no need. As you bobbed your head up and down his cock Chris didn’t stay quiet. He moaned and groaned all the while trying to keep himself in check. When you felt him sink his hands into your hair, you knew he wanted more control than you were allowing him. Chris held your head and began pumping your mouth. Every connection the tip of his cock nudged your tonsil, threatening your gag, but when he retreated, you were able to suppress it. When he sank his full length into your mouth, you decided not to back down and instead clamped around him and shook your head, giving him the full feel of you.

“Fuck! You look so fucking gorgeous with my dick in your mouth, Y/N.”

Some girls wanted chocolates. Some wanted flowers. Some wanted to be bought diamonds and rubies or even told they’re beautiful twenty times a day. You were plenty happy to hear those words from him.

You were that turned on. Moaning, you opened your throat, but Chris must have sensed what you intended to do because he pulled your head back with a loud groan and brought you to his face before he crashed his lips to yours and stuck his tongue down your throat.

The next thing you knew, he’d walked away from you and gone back to the stove. You stood there, stunned and confused.

“What’re you doing?”

He had his sweats pulled back into place and looked innocent, the only dead giveaway was the obvious erection that was sticking right out straining against his sweatpants.

“You said you were starving. Breakfast,” Chris responded, opening the oven and bending inside to retrieve a baking tray.

“Uh—I had my breakfast in front of me,” you announced. Chris tried to hide his smirk, but you caught it.

“I snuck into the house and was able to get some cinnamon buns and some fruit,” Chris explained as he rifled through the fridge to come out with a fruit salad bowl. He then began placing the buns onto a dish as you stood there still floored.

Once he’d finished, he walked past you toward the table on the back deck.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

“Eat what exactly?”

“Let’s start with cinnamon buns and fruit and see where we end up,” Chris teased.

The man wanted to tease and torture you; you thought as you walked to the back bare chest and all. When you said down, you noticed him staring at your breasts so you poked them out even more.

“Something wrong with me being shirtless?”

Chris smiled, licked his lips, and shook his head. “By all means. With breasts like those you should be shirtless twenty-four-seven,” he said before he bit into one of the cinnamon buns. The icing residue latched onto his mustache and beard and corner of his mouth. You’d never wanted to lick someone more.

You cupped your breasts and smiled when you saw his slip. “Thanks, I’ve always thought so too.” You slowly rolled your nipples between your fingers while staring into his eyes. When you dropped your hands, you took a bun for yourself and moaned while obnoxiously rolling your eyes into the back of your head upon first bite.

“You did that for me first,” Chris said. You scoffed and finished chewing.

“Are you sure you were first?”

It was a low blow, but you didn’t care. All’s fair in torture and teasing. Right? Chris looked slightly annoyed, and that annoyance brought you immeasurable joy. The two of you ate the food, all the while staring at each other, just giving each other sensual looks that spoke volumes. Every now and then, you purposely let droplets of fruit juice fall on your breasts. Each time you did, Chris fell for it and gawked at them with a palpable hunger in his eyes. You wondered how long he could last. You knew you were the worst person to go up against. You knew the power of a woman over a man. You knew your power over this man.

By the time the last bun was finished and the fruits all but gone you sat there licking and sucking your fingers clean from the icing with Chris as your audience. Once they were clean, you stood with the faux intention of bringing the dishes to the sink. Before you even made it to grab a dish, Chris had his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to his body. His erection pressed urgently into you. You doubted it had gone down this entire time. You couldn’t help but smile, but you shouldn’t have. Chris spun you around and pushed you forward so you were bending across the table. He then yanked your skirt down, revealing your bare ass to him. You felt his teeth sink into the flesh of your backside, making you groan and throw your head back.

Chris pushed your chest down onto the table before you felt his face bury between your folds.

“Fuck!” It was an unexpected feeling, one that was coarse thanks to his beard but so damn soft because of his mouth.

“Mmmm, you taste like mine!”

You weren’t into the whole being possessed thing; it always made you feel like property and confined. You preferred to be the one possessing. This, though, felt different, but only a little. You felt Chris's hands grip your ass before he squeezed and slurped your sex. It felt so good that your knees buckled. Before you could relax into the pleasure, Chris stood again and walked away. After a few seconds of nothing but breeze, you looked back, but he wasn’t there.

“Chris?

No answer.

“Chris!”

Still no answer. You pressed your forehead to the table and groaned loudly. Who knew the man was this much of a tease. Standing on semi shaky legs, you walked inside, but again there was no Chris. Suppressing your frustration, you walked down the short hall and passed the little nook that he had set up as a library area, but still, he wasn’t there. When you went up the steps to his bedroom, it was empty. Knowing that there were only so many places he could be, you backtracked and saw the door to the bathroom open.

As you approached, you heard the rush of running water, and when you got to the door, you saw Chris filling the tub. As you leaned on the door, you just marveled at how gorgeous he was and how in the hell he expected two people to fit in that tub. When he looked at you, his smile was coy.

“Found me.”

“Because there were so many places to look,” you joked.

You watched him move around the small space adding different things to the water as the tub filled. With everything, he poured the scent in the room changed. First, you smelled sandalwood, then cedarwood. After a few moments, you began to smell other things like eucalyptus, mint, and a faint vanilla and musk aroma. It all was so very masculine, but it also gave an air of feminine undertones. Chris looked at you, beginning from your toes along your naked body until he got to your face.

“Enjoying the view?”

“How the hell could I not? You’re gorgeous, Y/N. You know that,” Chris said, still staying on his side of the room.

“I would love to say the same, but it seems as if I’m the only one naked.”

Chris snorted and nodded.

“That’s fair. Do you want to do the honors?”

Biting your bottom lip, you looked him over and slowly shook your head. “Nope, I think you got it.”

Chris smiled then slowly pulled the waist of his sweatpants down. He did it in a way to tease you even more, first only revealing the bundle of neatly trimmed hair. You watched his sweats get nudged on his erection, making you suck your bottom lip in your mouth. Chris looked to you with just his eyes, and it like a ton of bricks the effect it had on you. He must have known it too because the smirk that spread across his face said it.

Finally, he was bare before you, and the only thought you had was how had you not tried to imagine this before. How had you not recognized these feelings you were having right now before? Chris turned off the water and held out his hand for you. Slowly you approached him and placed your hand in his.

“How exactly are two of us supposed to fit in there? I have serious doubts you could fit.” Chris smiled and kissed your cheek then trailed kisses to your ear. Once he got to your ear, he nibbled your lobe for a few moments before he pulled back.

“Let me lead by example,” Chris said before he climbed into the tub and sank into it, demonstrating that he, in fact, fit in the tub. You were shocked.

“Tada.”

With a smile, you took Chris’s outstretched hand and climbed into the tub and sat across from him. Chris’s feet were on either side of you while yours were in the middle of the tub. Moaning, you relished the feeling of the hot water on your skin and the blending aromas swirling in the air. The silence in the room wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt natural, which surprised you given the limited amount of time you’d spent around him.

With your eyes closed, you leaned back and rested your head on the cushion that was there. When you felt his hand wrap around your foot, you opened your eyes and watched as he held it and massaged it. In no time at all, your relaxation increased. His hands were so large that they engulfed your foot and expertly moved along it. His hands felt incredible. You had no idea how he’d learned this, but you had suspicions.

“What’re you thinking?”

You took a deep breath and sank even lower in the water.

“You don’t want to know.”

“On the contrary, I want to know everything you think,” Chris corrected.

“I was wondering how you got so good at this.”

Chris snorted before he dropped a kiss to your foot.

“Do you really want to know?”

“If the words out your mouth are you practiced on Emily, Jessica, Jenny, Anna, Cynthia, and countless others, I'm going to kick you in that beautiful face of yours.”

Chris laughed loudly as he leaned back to slap his hand across his chest. Some things never change, you thought.

“In that case, I’ll just shut up,” Chris teased.

Using your other foot still in the water, you shoved it out, making gentle connection with his dick in the water.

“Hey, hey, hey, watch the merchandise. Just remember you’re the one who gets pleasure from it,” Chris cautioned.

“Ha, but it hasn’t been just me has it?” Narrowing your eyes at him, you pursed your lips. You were never a jealous person, but right now, you felt hella jealous.

“What I was going to say was I’m making it up as I go. I’m just good with my hands.” Chris’s hands moved up your leg to your calves. Once they got to your knees, Chris slinked over to you and hovered over you. “Let’s get one thing clear right now, sweetheart,” he began before he kissed your lips and sucking your bottom lip. “No one matters before you. You’re all I see, all I’ve ever seen.” He kissed you again and pulled you to him as he slid back to his side. You were now nestled between his legs pressed against his body. The kiss intensified while Chris’s hand trailed down your back to your ass. The way he gripped it had you wanting even more than you had outside at the table.

“You’re all I want to see, Y/N,” Chris finished while nuzzling his nose against yours.

You quickly adjusted your body so you straddled him with his member pressed against your ass. As you reached for one of the sponges behind Chris, your breast nudged his face. Taking full advantage of it, Chris wrapped his lips around your nipple and proceeded to please you. Focusing on the task, you took up the shower gel that laid on the side of the tub and lathered the sponge. The feel of his mouth on you was a continuous temptation to just rush full force toward your own pleasure, but you took your time.

When you pulled back your breast came free with a loud “pop”.

“How do you always smell like coconuts? It drives me fucking crazy.”

He was asking your black woman secrets, and you didn’t want to give him any hints. Instead, you rubbed the sponge across his shoulder and down his chest.

“Not gonna tell me?” Chris kissed your neck and made a path to your shoulder as his hands gripped your hips.

“No need.”

Chris grabbed the sponge and began wiping across your body. His eyes moved along with the sponge, and with every stroke, he looked even more and more mesmerized. When he swirled the sponge around your breasts while cupping them, you almost leaped out your skin. Chris swiped his thumbs across your nipples before he pinched them, which sent your hips bucking against him.

Chris groaned and bit his bottom lip. The sight only turned you on more. For the next several minutes, the two of you bathed each other taking your time with moving the sponge along your bodies. You paid attention to every sharp intake of breath or heavy sigh as you moved along him and noted what worked in tempting him further. As you did this, Chris did the same, but when he realized that your reactions were more facial then verbal, you found him watching your face more times than not.

After what felt like an eternity, Chris held you tightly as he rose onto his knees. That was when he kissed you. It was a slow kiss, a deliberately slow one meant only to tease you. The water from above shocked you making you flinch.

“Oh my god, Chris, my hair!” Your shriek was loud, and your glare penetrative as you tried to slink away from the falling water.

“It’s just water,” Chris declared. To you, it was like a capital offense.

“On my hair. Do you know how much goes into getting my hair like this?”

He kissed your collar, gently nipping your skin between his teeth.

“I’ll help you, I promise.”

“Help me? Have you ever done a woman’s hair before, let alone a black woman’s?”

“No, but I’m willing to learn.”

Those words, for some reason, meant everything in this moment. It was sweet. You bit your bottom lip and went back to your natural position and allowed the water from the rainfall showerhead to pour down onto you. As it did, the soap on both your bodies washed away. Chris crashed his lips to yours and took control. You got lost in the kiss and the way his hard, wet body felt pressed against yours until the kiss got even more desperate.

Chris stood and stepped out of the tub then walked out of the bathroom. The coolness in the air nipped at your skin, but the heat from his body worked to take it away. When he softly placed you on the bed, you moaned and rolled onto him to once again straddle him. Chris’s hands went everywhere. They caressed your back, palmed your ass, squeezed your hips, then came around to cup your breasts, but no matter where they went, they never stayed too long. It was as if he wanted everything all at once.

When he pulled away from your lips, you stared at him, reading the hidden desires in them. You didn’t know how you could read him so easily now when not even seventy two hours ago, he perplexed you beyond comprehension. You bit his bottom lip and pulled back, teasing it before you licked his top one only to lick from his chin up across both lips. Chris groaned, and the pulsating between your bodies increased.

That was when you slipped from his lap and stood before him in front of the panoramic window in the room. The sunlight shone through, and your body created a shadow. Chris slowly licked his lips as he raked his eyes over every inch of your body. The attention he gave you made you feel like a precious rare jewel, and you were quickly becoming addicted to the feeling. Slowly you twirled around, giving him a good view of the ass he loved to grip. His deep impassioned groan was the only sound you needed to hear to know he liked what he saw. The beads of water that dripped from your hair onto your skin slowly slid along your body, and when you turned to him, you could have sworn he was watching each of them.

Your eyes dropped to his swollen need and licked your lips. When you did Chris’s hand wrapped around it and stroked three times before he gripped it. If that wasn’t an invitation, you didn’t know what was, you thought. Like a lioness on the prowl, you sauntered to him rolling your hips with each step until you got close enough, then you dropped to your knees and fully emulated that lioness stalking her prey. Chris sucked in a breath as he watched you crawled to him.

Once you were between his legs, you rubbed your lips and nose along his length, then your cheek, all the while never taking your eyes off of his. Chris’s jaw was dropped as if he couldn’t believe you were before him doing the things you were. With your hands behind your back, you dropped your mouth down his length until you felt his head nudge your throat. Your moan vibrated on his cock, making him growl out from deep within his chest. Fuck, it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard, next to his moans.

While you loved to tease him, you also loved to please him. Ending your torture, you showed him without hesitation just how skilled your mouth was. It didn’t take long for Chris’s hands to bury themselves in your hair until he was holding it back and watching you in awe as every curse word in the book tumbled from his lips in between moans, groans, and whimpers. When he pulled your head back by your hair, he pulled you to him and kissed you with a heat and passion you hadn’t expected but savored.

Chris pulled you onto his lap and nestled his cock between your sopping folds. Unable to help yourself, you swiped your sex across his soaking him in the process. Every buck of your hips had Chris leaning back even more. You saw him reaching back but didn’t know what he was reaching for. Then it dawned on you he was probably trying to get to the bedside table.

“I’ll get it,” you offered before you crawled up his body to reach inside the table. The movement unwittingly placed his head between your thighs. Chris took full advantage by gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his open mouth just as you’d reached the gold packet.

Your shriek was loud, and from the beginning, it was clear his intention was not to tease. He lapped at you as if he’d been starving all the days of his life, and you were the only sustenance left in the world. After a few seconds, your body began to shake. That was when Chris sucked your clit into his mouth to slurp at you. The sensation was so intense you gripped the sheets and let your body convulse as your orgasm charged through you, bringing with it the goosebumps across your skin.

“Oh fuck Chris, yes, yes, yes!”

With every “yes,” his slurps got louder and louder. With the end of one orgasm, another quickly took over. When you felt Chris dip his tongue into your channel, your body moved on its own and rode his face. Chris’s moans picked up, and soon you were racing for your finish line. Chris’s moans got loud, and when you looked down and made eye contact, your release came. The feeling was intense, and you wanted more, but you also wanted to feel him.

In a rush, you pulled from him and moved down his body to quickly rip open the condom and roll it onto his pulsating cock. In less than a minute, you were on your knees again, straddling him. Chris sat up and kissed you. Using your tongue, you licked across his lips, tasting yourself and moaning as you did.

“I never took you for a squirter,” Chris whispered against your lips. You smiled as you slid onto him, taking every single inch slowly, so he felt every sensation individually. The look on his face said he was close and barely hanging on. It was what you liked.

Wasting no time, you rocked against him and rolled your body as you held onto him. The water that dripped onto your skin was gone now as the combined heat from your bodies took all of it but replaced it with the slickness of your sweat. Your bodies rubbed together, causing such a delicious friction, a friction that only inched you closer and closer to the edge.

Chris bit your neck before he dropped back onto the bed to watch you move against him. Raising onto your knees, you bounced on him, losing yourself in the pleasure and not caring how your body jiggled. All that mattered right now was your combined release.

“Jesus, Y/N.” Chris balled the sheets into his outstretched hands and watched you with his mouth open. He looked at you as if you were a sorceress who somehow had claimed control of him against his will. The look made you feel powerful, and that was when you decided to show out and raise onto your toes to bounce on him more forcefully.

“Aaah,” Chris shouted. He only allowed you four dips before he was sitting up and standing with you in his arms.

His lips claimed yours, and the two of you fought in a battle of the tongues. Chris was the one to break the kiss before he tossed you onto the bed. You were only without him for seconds before he was kneeling onto the bed and forcefully flipping you over onto your stomach. When he dropped a heavy-handed slap to your ass, you moaned and instantly poked it out. You felt him swipe his length along your slit once before he was slamming into you, connecting you in one rough thrust.

“Aaaah!”

Chris groaned deeply and grabbed your hands to hold them behind your back. As he did this, he rotated his hips, caressing every wall with his need. He was impossibly deep and though your body wanted more your survival instincts had you trying to pull away.

“Mm-nmh. Don’t run from this dick, Y/N. Take it,” Chris tantalizingly ordered before he pulled out only to slam back into you.

“Fuuuuck!” His grip on your wrists only tightened, keeping you right where you were so you had no choice but to take it.

Chris’s strokes from the beginning were deliberate, and with every passing second, they sped. In no time at all, you were whimpering, and shrieking out, not caring who heard. Chris’s moans were like music to your ears and only made you wetter and wetter. You knew there was no way you could take much more of this. You could already feel your skin tingling and your sex quivering around him. Chris’s strokes got sloppier and sloppier, and that was when he let your wrists go. You plopped onto the bed only to have him push one of your legs to the side before he was sinking back inside your greedy sex.

Chris hovered over you and gave you slow deep strokes that had you shouting his name back to back.

“Yes. Y/N. God, I love how you feel around me. You feel so fucking good,” he groaned against your ear before he pressed down onto you and jackhammered into you, dragging your orgasm from you. As you clenched around him, Chris shouted out and came right along with you.

After almost two minutes, Chris was still spasming inside of you, and you were still milking him for every drop.

“Fuuuuck! I’m still coming,” Chris grunted out, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. Chris bit your skin and groaned. When rolled off of you onto his back, he groaned again.

You rested onto your elbows and watched him fascinated. With his face scrunched, he looked as if he were in such a complex merge of pleasure and pain. You dropped a kiss to his chest and trailed it to his nipple then nibbled it. He sucked in a breath and groaned again. You looked to his member and marveled, seeing it twitch and bob in the air. After a few moments, his breathing evened out, and he turned to you with such vulnerability in his eyes you couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him.

Chris wrapped an arm around you, allowing you to settle comfortably atop his chest. The silence filled the room with the two of you enjoying it, and the afterglow of your coupling. After almost five minutes of silence and you tracing patters across his chest and abs, you spoke first.

“When you imagined this—did you imagine it being like this?”

Chris didn’t speak right away. He stayed quiet so long you didn’t think he would answer. You didn’t dare look at him. You didn’t want to meet his eyes, unsure what you’d find there and just what it would do to you. You heard your ring tone, it sounded far away, but you knew it was yours. After the beginning chime, what you heard next quickly broke the mood.

“Call from Sexy as fuck dig dick Charles.”

Chris audibly growled before groaning and rolling away from you, leaving you a little surprised. The personalized ringtone kept repeating, and the more it did, you could feel the chill that filled the room. Chris sat up at the edge of the bed with his back hunched and turned to you. Finally, the silence returned, but he didn’t speak. You slid closer to him and touched his back. He flinched and slightly arched his back away. Thinking it was just a shock reflex, you pressed your lips to his back. That was when he moved completely and stood.

“You should get back before Scott realizes you’re not in the guesthouse,” Chris spoke, looking everywhere but at you. He made a move to roll the condom off, then tied it and dropped it into the garbage beside the bedside table. He was still hard.

“You want me to leave?”

Chris sighed out and planted his hands on his waist before dropping his head back.

“It’s the best move,” he quietly answered.

You wondered if this was about the call. Once it rang out, you felt the shift in the atmosphere.

“Chris, is this about the call?”

His sigh was heavier, more forceful. He moved to one of the doors in the room and came out of it with another pair of sweats, then he pushed his legs through them.

“It’s just best for you to go, Y/N. You probably shouldn’t even be here.” He sounded defeated.

You tried hard not to allow the feeling of rejection take over, but the longer he stayed over there not looking at you with clenched jaws, the more impossible it was.

“Chris ignore the call,” you began.

“Ignore the fact that mere weeks ago, you were fucking someone else and probably doing every single fucking thing to him that you were just doing to me? Saying the same shit—uuugg!” Chris turned his back to you as he rubbed his forehead.

This was insane, you thought.

“Are you jealous?”

Silence.

“Chris--,” you began before he cut you off.

“—Just go, Y/N.”

Anger fired up within you, and you bolted from the bed naked and all. “Am I making a big deal about you definitely having fucked someone else weeks ago? Chris, you’ve been fucking everyone else but me for years!” with your rising temper, your voice rose as well.

“Great here we go again. You want to throw every woman I’ve had sex with in my face. Fine! Yes, I fucked a lot of women. You’ve fucked a lot of guys!”

Those words were like a slap across the face. You couldn’t believe he’d just said that to you. You felt the tears before they welled your eyes, and you refused to stay there and shed them. Nodding, you walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom to grab your skirt before you angrily pulled it on. As you did, you felt the first droplets of tears. You could have punched a hole in the door. You hated crying, and you hadn’t let any man make you cry in years.

As you walked out to the door, you grabbed your top and pulled that on as well. In seconds you found your clutch and walked through the door.

“Y/N,” Chris began with a hand on your wrist.

Yanking away from him, you kept your face forward. “Fuck you, Chris!”

With that, you stormed across the yard and to where the bike was leaned and rode away. Your tears made it difficult to see where you were going, but you refused to stop. Instead, you peddled harder and gripped the handlebar with the strength and fire of hell itself.

When you got back to the house, you were thankful the pool area was empty. You shoved the bike onto the ground and stormed to the guesthouse door then slammed it behind you. Quickly you stripped your clothes off and rushed into the shower. The only thing you wanted to do was wash him off of you.

How dare he you thought as you roughly scrubbed your skin trying to rub off every kiss, every lick every touch, and when you realized you couldn’t, no matter how hard you scrubbed, you stood still and shook with the force of your anger. Your anger was your weakness. You went from zero to one hundred in seconds, and once there, that blazing inferno was worst than an F6 on the tornado scale. Everyone knew when you were seething; it was best to leave you be.

After a few minutes, you still weren’t able to get control of your anger, and that was when the tears streamed. They were a mixture of angry tears and hurt ones. You couldn’t believe it. You’d lowered your guard. You hadn’t even realized you did. You lowered it and allowed someone to hurt you. He’d been able to hurt you. That was what terrified you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee’s Note: 😬

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***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @kikimiyazaki @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27@blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @swinchestersgirl @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447@cutewylie @disaster-rose@wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi@magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjh @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @almosttherebutnot @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige@amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @est1887 @periodtcevans @likesfairytales @maverickabull @productofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ljstraightnochaser @priya212 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @renfrewscorner @euphoric05 @baby-iyania @thelilbutifulthings @winterboobear11 @awaywithtime @problackasfwilson @brownskinafro @miss-jackson500 @siempremamita @theladybiers @ibe-erynn @marvelatthis30 @kailyndavillier @literaturefeen @richonne4life @ani808 @scifi-fantasist @mizzzpink @creolemami@disconectedswift @i-lie-here-charmed @bamakakechick @captainchrisstan @martinafigoli @spxcecxramxl @letsdothemonstermash @queenwinchester27 @chrisevansfanfic @thejeneralvicinity @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @mirmirmur @redhairedfeistynerd @nico-diangelo-grey @imaslutforcaptainamerica @ibe-erynn @amazonian-strap-queen @wintermoons @tenaciousperfectionunknown @shining---h somethin @cookinggurl43 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @letsdothemonstermash @almosttherebutnot @munteanhore @blackgurlkillinit @madixii @smediumsmeatbae @shar74nett @live-laugh-love-ki @deadpixie22 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison-00 @guardian-tn @timotheessoleil @rynabarnesrogers-reading @kemkem101 @blackmissfrizzle @queenoftheworldisdead @reveviolet @madixii @southerngracela @myakai13 @likesfairytales @cessamjrmr @fanfictionaffair @sullyosully @jovanaprime @naturalthrone22 @beccacupcakesxo @littleheavensangel2 @littlepreciousangel @queenshikongo3 @simply-heaven @chezdricks @euh-say-what-now @almosttherebutnot @littleheavensangel2 @offrostandstarlight @mangos4u @toni9 @sohalia01 @imaslutforcaptainamerica @tstark-94 @peggyslegion @xoxloaveasre @lickmymelaninn @kittykatlow @ jd-now-jq @badkittybang @mrsbarnes- rogers @jillanaholland @dragonballluver @onetwo3000 @tashawar @rainbowkisses31

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#quarantine: a love story fic #q15 #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic #chris evans smut #chris evans x ofc

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nad-zeta · 3 years

Text

Quiet Mornings

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Kennyo x Mama's OC (Asuga)

Genre: Fluffffff

Words: 1300+

Comments: Eeeeep, birthday bash week has begun! Eeeek, so excited! Whooop Whooop! So this is another lil one for our wonderful Mama! Hope you feel better soooon, Mama! Sending ya all the hugs and love!! ❤❤ ❤😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。

Out on his morning reflection, a squeak could be heard coming from the dense foliage on the path less travelled. Kennyo enjoyed exploring the forest environments in the early hours of the morning, discovering new paths, and clearing his head before the hustle and bustle of the day.

Kennyo loved his followers and disciples, but golly they sure were demanding as rebuilding a temple from the ground up was certainly no easy feat, despite having the endless support of his love.

Kennyo raised a curious brow at the ruckus coming from the patch of bushes a little way from his path. He was ready to simply walk past, ignoring it, but something compelled him to take a closer look. After all, the monk was well known for his charitability towards not only his people but also the forest critters—never able to resist a man, woman, child or animal in need.

Inching closer, his hands parted the branches and leaves like the red sea, eyes widening in shock when he spotted a lone pup— presumably lost— beady eyes looking up at him and piercing his very heart and soul with its miserable little whines. The little creature reminded him of the young wolf he called his own— his dearest love, left at home to sleep in and get some much-deserved rest after a long week of work. The remembrance was not for the whining, heavens no, but for the pure strength and determination to endure, no matter the situation they found themselves in.

There was a beat of silence, both staring at one another, both sussing the other out before the pup started whining once again. He neared Kennyo craning his neck up as the cries continued— as if clearly stating his unhappiness to the man—even after Kennyo scooped him up in his arms, the puppy continued to wail.

“Hush now, little one,” Kennyo spoke sternly. However, his features completely softened as he looked down at the canine in his arms— warm and safe—hands stroking the soft fur as he attempted to settle the babe. It wasn’t long before the whining died down; little eyes lulled to sleep in the warm arms.

It was certainly not Kennyo’s intention to bring home yet another rescue on his morning walk, but here he was, quietly opening the temple door with the pup comfortably cradled in his arms— trying his best not to make so much as a peep to wake the household.

He, gently as he could, set the dog down on the plush pillow in the corner of the kitchen, careful not to wake the sleeping baby. The last thing he needed was for the creature to wake and start whining again; heaven knows all hell would break loose if his dear lover was woken before dawn.

Tiptoeing, he made his way back into the ever brightening bedroom, crouching down by Asuga’s side to check on her before tenderly brushing a stray strand of her hair from her eyes.

Not a trace of the trademark stern expression could be seen on his face as he gazed down at the one he loved the most in the world. His eyes reflected the tenderness and adoration he felt for the woman before him, and the soft smile that came to his lips, one which betrayed his every thought— my, how hard he had fallen. Retracting his hands, he was quiet as the night as he stood up to retreat back to the kitchen— to prepare for the day that lay ahead.

He smiled to himself as he got busy preparing two healthy helpings of rice pudding and a cup of dark tea— brewed to perfection just the way Asuga liked it. It was no secret that she was by no means a morning person and that the most he would get from her before the morning caffeine would be a few dissatisfied grunts and groans.

Food and tea in hand, he made his way back to bed, sun steadily rising to illuminate the room further, utterly robbing it from the dark that had once enveloped it. He set the breakfast down within arms reach, moving beneath the covers to wrap an arm around her waist and bring her closer to him. He leaned down and placed a loving kiss on her shoulder, just above the flower tattoo he loved so much.

Snaking his arms further around her waist, he muttered good morning against her neck before following it up with another adoring kiss.

She groaned in response, which only brought a hearty chuckle from Kennyo’s throat, tickling her neck as he nuzzled deeper into her skin. “Happy birthday,” he spoke warmly, slowly coaxing her from her slumbered state.

She only grumbled in return, burrowing, still further into the sheets, hoping to achieve sleep for a few moments longer. Just as Kennyo was about to release another chuckle, a series of whines could be heard coming from the kitchen. Shit, he had forgotten about the orphaned pup; what made matters worse was that Hayate, Asuga's wolf companion’s ears now perched, eyes narrowing as if to glare through the walls in the direction of the sound.

The wolf looked completely unimpressed as he continued to listen to the sounds echoing through the house. With a moment’s notice, the wolf bounded from his place at the foot of the bed, swiftly rounding the corner to investigate.

Kennyo panicked

Haya-” was all that left the man’s lips before the sounds of glass shattering in the next room could be heard. Kennyo’s blood froze over as the worst-case scenario ran through his mind.

“Who the hell is making all that noise,” the raspy roar came from beside him, followed by a dissatisfied scowl. Kennyo was about to jump up, investigate the damage when the grumpy growling and whining stopped altogether.

In angst, he peered through the dimly lit room, holding his breath as he waited—silence, only silence could be heard.

That is until soft steps pattered on the wooden floor, getting louder and louder until the pair rounded the corner. Kennyo released a sigh of relief at the sight of both animals unharmed. In fact, the sight of the two together had his heart-melting. Hayate proudly carried the little creature by the scruff of his neck into the room— tail swishing happily as he made his way back to their bed, taking his original spot at the foot.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Agsuga looked over at the pair and raised a brow at Kennyo, “And this,” she asked, voice still rough with sleep.

“Found alone in the woods, mother nowhere to be seen,” Kennyo stated simply, eyes brimming with sympathy for the little pup who now curled up between Hayate and Asuga. The little thing let go of an adorable yawn before tired eyes fell closed once more, to sleep peacefully in the comforts of the bed.

Kennyo reached over as a large hand covered the little one’s head giving the canine a gentle pat, both he and Hayate sending Asuga an equally big pair of puppy dog eyes.

“I turn my back for two minutes, and you are already rescuing another pet,” she jested with a shake of the head before leaning back into Kennyo’s warm embrace.

Kennyo could only smile in response; he couldn’t help it when it came to those in need. No matter what creature, big or small, he could never turn his back on them. “Shall we eat breakfast? It’s getting cold,” he prompted the woman whose eyes had already fallen shut against the warmth of his chest.

With an endearing sight, he pulled the blanket up to better cover Asuga while his fingers tenderly traced circles on her hip. He would indulge her with a few moments more, eyes too fluttering closed and enjoying the quiet, peaceful morning cuddles with the love of his life and the two canine companions.

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。

#ikemen sengoku kennyo #kennyo's route #kennyo fic #Kennyo Ikesen #Kennyo x reader #Eeeeeeep Mamas OC #Kennyo x OC #Happy birthday Mama!

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Emory and Erwin butt heads

AN: In future chapters there WILL be mentions of sexual assault I will put a warning on that specific chapter and other future chapters that mention mature content.

Word Count: 2.4K

A grunt escaped my lips as I fell to the ground, Annie loomed over me her icy blue eyes burning into my own. I risked a glance at Shadis who lurked on the edge of the clearing with that brooding expression, those hazel eyes locked on Annie and I. Annie followed my gaze and smirked,

"Nervous Black?" Annie purred, leaning forward to hoist me up.

"Never." I snarled, swinging my fist in a wide arc, effectively clipping her chin. She stumbled backwards, surprised by my dirty attack. Shadis raised an eyebrow at this move, not necessarily an impressive technique but definitely unexpected. I gave chase, closing the space between us, forcing Annie to take a defensive stance. When I first started sparring with Annie she almost appeared bored, now she was wide eyed and very alert. I kept my elbows close to my chest as I scanned her small frame for an opening. Annie was about the same size as me, making us a relatively equal match. She danced back a few more steps, seemingly desperate to get away from my lightning quick punches. This time I allowed her to retreat, my cobalt eyes taking in the way her chest heaved and her hair was displaced and slipping from her low bun. The usually composed Annie Leonhardt was only slightly undone but all of your comrades took note. I allowed my eyes to scan the crowd that had gathered. Shadis had also snuck up on Annie and I, his features hard and unforgiving.

"Draw?" I asked, my voice coming out airy as I spoke. Annie nodded, her chest still heaving as she recovered from our tussle. The crowd let out some 'aws' and 'boos' due to our little show ending so abruptly. I dusted off my pants as the rest of the cadets dispersed as Annie and I recovered. Annie held her hand out and I took it, shaking it wordlessly before departing to find a new opponent. I halted abruptly when Shadis called out to me in that hoarse voice of his.

"Black! Your presence is requested in my office." he stood a distance behind me as I raised an inquisitive brow. Odd, sparring practice still had at least another hour. Surely he wouldn't leave the cadets unattended to hold a private audience with me? The thought made my stomach clench with dread, I learned early not to trust men. I paused before saluting him and giving a curt nod. I walked briskly over the training grounds, kicking up dust as I crossed the vast clearing. Finally I found myself in front of the small building that the superiors used to hold formal meetings and also were the few offices on the property were located. I paused, a carriage catching my eyes, a solider stood by the horses, holding the reins. I squinted trying to see the symbol on his military jacket. But he was too far away, and I wasn't very keen on getting caught staring at a stranger. So I walked into the building, heading straight for Shadis' office. I knocked on the door, not expecting a response since Shadis was supervising the sparring practice.

"Come in." I jumped at the sound of the deep masculine voice on the other side. My hand hovered over the knob, had Shadis set me up? Was I about to get thrown in jail? No I hadn't done anything illegal, at least not recently. Was Shadis conspiring with those notorious human traffickers? Was I being sold? No I need to chill the fuck out. I gripped the door knob and pushed the door open. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of Erwin Smith seated comfortably in Shadis' chair, although he rose as soon as I entered. I saluted him quickly, leaving my hand over my heart even though he had dismissed me.

"You gave me a heart attack, thought I was going to be sold into slavery." I sighed as I crossed the room and sank into the uncomfortable wooden chair across the desk. Erwin furrowed his eyebrows and fought a smile off of his lips at my words.

"Why on earth would you think that? Have you been so terrible that Shadis has resolved to slavery as a threat to make you behave?" Erwin asked raising a bushy brow. I scoffed and leaned forward in my seat.

"No, I've been quite good actually." I said proudly, a smile curving on my lips. Erwin smiled fully before turning his attention to a folder that sat on the desktop.

"I've come here today to remind you of the deal that you agreed to three years ago." straight to business, gotta love the guy.

"Yes I recall." I said leaning back in my seat. God has it really been three years?

"Your graduation is in exactly two weeks, and I am very pleased with your rankings." Erwin said as he flipped through the file, his blue eyes suddenly flickered to my face.

"Oh, well I wish I could've made top ten but..." I trailed off, a blush dusting my cheeks.

"Ranked 11th in your class, still an impressive feat, this is a very competitive group of cadets." Erwin said giving me a pointed look. I could only nod at his words, still confused as to why he had come all this way to visit me.

"Anyway, I just wanted to ensure that you would be joining the Survey Corps as arranged, I'm sure as you know our numbers have decreased significantly." he said, slowly standing up, his tall build did make him a bit intimidating. I lifted my head a bit higher in an attempt to meet the mountain of a man without standing. He placed a large hand on the back of my chair, I allowed my eyes to flit over his calloused hand for a moment before turning to meet his cerulean gaze.

"I am aware." I spoke curtly, growing tired of his condescending tone.

"We are in need of promising recruits like yourself and to see you slip into another regimen would truly be devastating. Besides..." his hand slid off the back of my chair and onto my shoulder. My blood ran cold as he leaned down to my level and tightened his grip on my shoulder.

"There's a certain someone who is expecting you." his words sent goosebumps up my spine. It had been three whole years since I had seen Levi. Now of course Erwin was using him as an incentive to stay true to my word. I tensed under his grip, but still managed to nod.

"Does he ask about me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No... But I know he thinks about you." Erwin said, I nodded grimly, not really knowing what else I expected, he was kind to even add the last part. I laughed bitterly, "Why do I even bother." I cupped my face in my hands and slowly drug them down my cheeks. Erwin still held my shoulder firmly.

"Just uphold your end of the deal." he whispered, with a final squeeze he released my shoulder and returned to Shadis' seat, sinking into the back rest.

"Don't worry I will." I said, my own sapphire eyes narrowing as I spoke lowly. He waved his hand, dismissing me. I turned and quickly left without saluting him, a small act of rebellion. Gods, fuck that, did he really doubt my integrity so much to make a journey out here to ensure that I remembered the deal? Outrageous, I didn't even want this I never wanted to be a solider. I was only a child when this deal was made. By none other than Isabel, which is the only reason why I have decided to uphold my end.

When Levi, Farlan, and Isabel had been arrested Isabel begged Erwin to go back to the flat and bring me with them, at first he refused. But then when he learned that I was twelve years old he changed his mind. Why you might ask? Simply because he realized that he could make me a solider, a pawn in the fight for freedom. So exactly one year after my family's arrest he returned and gave me false documents, freeing me from the underground city. I stumbled, leaning against the railing of the dining hall, so engrossed in my memories that I failed to see a large rock in my path.

I blinked, the images of the dank city still dancing across my mind. I looked up at the sky to see the sun sinking lower, dinner would begin soon. But my stomach was churning with nerves as I thought about the place I had grown up and the people who had ensured my survival. Isabel, Farlan, Levi, they had saved me gotten me out of that hellhole. Now only two of us remained and he couldn't even fucking write me. I straightened up, pushing off the railing I stormed back towards the barracks, a new found rage instilled in my chest. Or maybe it wasn't new at all, maybe it had always been there, a nagging in the back of my head. Levi was never keen with me, but surely he cared enough to at least ensure that Erwin fulfilled Isabel's wish. But then again maybe he only enforced the deal to honor Isabel?

I frowned, Isabel was one of the few people who showed me kindness during my short life, she was like a big sister to me. I finally found myself struggling to open the door to the barracks, my hands shaking with emotion. With a final shove I pushed into the room, the bunk beds all made with care. I flopped onto my bunk and buried my face in the stiff pillow. I allowed a few small tears fall into the fabric before I finally pulled away from the pillow and breathed a heavy sigh. I looked down where my pillow once rested to see the carefully folded paper that I kept stored underneath the pillow. I gingerly unfolded the worn parchment with shaky hands. My shoulders sagged when I finished, the image that stared back at me made my heart ache. A drawing that Farlan had done only a few weeks before everything changed, a family portrait of sorts, you and Isabel between Levi and Farlan, Levi was drawn with a slight curl of his lip, his own way of smiling.

Isabel looked vibrant and full of life, Farlan looked cool as a cat, and I looked like a snotty brat with missing teeth and ratty hair. At the sight of my messy hair I recalled I memory of Isabel attempting to comb it to no avail, Farlan tried and also ultimately failed. But Levi pinned me to the ground and viciously raked the brush through my hair, and succeeded in detangling the mess. You didn't talk to him for a week after that. A shaky breath left my lungs as I focused on Isabel's wide eyes and the way Farlan's had an arm carelessly thrown over my shoulders. What I wouldn't do to feel his warmth by me again, admittedly I'd had an innocent crush on Farlan. It was only natural seeing as he was the one to take me in so graciously. I yelped when the door banged open, quickly stuffing my precious keepsake back under the pillow. Ymir padded in first, her arms folded behind her head, Krista followed closely after her. Mikasa wandered in after the odd pair along with Sasha and Annie brought up the rear. The lot of us occupied this small section of the barracks, Annie was the only one to spare me a second glance before tossing her jacket onto the bed above mine.

"What did Shadis do with you?" she asked indifferently, such an odd tone that made me think she didn't really care, but still bothered to ask the question.

"He did nothing, it was an old acquaintance of mine that requested my presence." I said throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. Annie raised a brow but didn't question any further, she set to work on unbuckling her harness, and shortly after, stripping her white jeans off. When she tossed the clothing onto the ground a strange scent washed over me. It smelled simply raw a foreign scent that I had never caught a whiff of before. Just as quickly as it had drifted under my nose it was gone, leaving an odd feeling in my stomach. Hm how odd, I thought as I watched Annie pull on a pair of loose pants. Just as I opened my mouth to ask her if she had found a new perfume or something Sasha plopped down on my bed.

"Sorry you couldn't come to dinner, I saved you a little something though!" she beamed as she pulled a half eaten loaf of bread out of her jacket pocket. I couldn't help but smile, in an odd distant way, she reminded me of my dear Isabel, kind and hard headed.

"Thanks Sasha, I appreciate that." I gingerly accepted the gift, and took a bite out of the loaf. Sasha looked pleased with herself, she got up and left me alone on my bunk, Annie crawled up onto the top as I dusted crumbs off my bed. Come to think of it, that scent from earlier was familiar, maybe she used the same soap as someone? No it wasn't a manmade scent, it was strange but somehow I knew that it was uniquely her. Like pheromones or some shit, my nose wrinkled and suddenly I felt over powered by the scent. I looked up to see Ymir passing, her shoulders pulled back proudly. What the fuck, man they reeked how had I never smelled it before? They smelled like sweat mixed with an earthy musk, my eyes watered as the smell continued to overpower my senses. I fell into a sneezing fit shortly after Ymir had walked back to her bunk, drawing some curious glances my way as I continued to sneeze my brains out.

"You alright down there?" Annie asked, her head dangling upside down to look at me underneath her.

"Fine, just.... Allergies." I sniffled, rubbing my arm discreetly over my nose partially to wipe snot away and also to protect it from her scent. Annie brushed her bangs off her face to get a better look at me, her brows pinched together and her mouth opened slightly as if she was about to say something.

"Lights out cadets!" Shadis banged on the barracks door loudly, shutting up every girl in the room. Mikasa got up and extinguished the torch, plunging the room into darkness. I heard Annie settle back into her bed, and I followed suit, my nose still burning from the stench.

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jiangchengrights · 3 years

Text

i wake to you at dawn

also available on ao3

“Alright, I get it,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself from where she lays, half of her face shoved into the pillow beneath her head, the other half just barely illuminated by the screen on her phone, “This dog is friends with that other dog now. Whoop de-fucking-do.”

Usually, these soft animal videos on Instagram don’t annoy her that much, even when they are about dogs, but she’s seen this specific post about fourteen times tonight. She can recite by memory the posts that come after it (a celebrity laying out in the sun, the tagline only the sunflower emoji, followed by one of Wen Qing, looking stern but fond as her lap is completely covered by both Wei Ying and Wen Ning, the tagline for that being ‘Reluctant jie’, and so on and so on) because she’s been frenetically refreshing all of her social media apps in order; she now knows the current lineup of instagram posts and tweets in her feed and has seen every godforsaken not-actually-that-interesting story of all of her friends (which isn’t fair to them, really, considering all of the important ones are here trapped in this same hotel as Wei Ying).

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng grumbles from the other side of the room where he lays on his bed (because of course he’s a part of her bridal party. Kind of. He’s walking her down the aisle tomorrow which, okay, makes him technically not a part of her party but she wasn’t about to let him skate free the night before her wedding)(or any of her bridal functions)(not that she needed to worry: he’d taken all planning rights away from her for her bridal shower and bachelorette party, he’d only tolerated the help of shijie) and throws his extra pillow at her, “If I have to hear that fucking dog video one more time, I swear to god, I’ll break your kneecaps. Do you hear me? I’ll have to drag you down the aisle tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk.”

“I thought you liked dogs, Shidi,” she replies, shifting ever-so-slightly so that she can squint at him past her phone.

“Wei Wuxian-”

“A-Cheng, A-Ying,” Shijie hums soothingly, from the other side of the room, “Please rest, for me. Your Shijie needs sleep too.”

“And if you don’t,” Wen Qing pipes up, “I know other ways to make you shut up.”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying whines, locking her phone with an audible click and resting it on the pillow next to her head, “I’ll try to sleep. For Shijie.”

Wei Ying does not sleep. She tries, she really does. Turns off all the lights and all the sounds and everything shiny that could keep her just engaged enough to stay awake. She tries to listen to the steadying breathes of her bridal party around her; Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang lay on the bed to her left, Shijie and Wen Qing to her right, Wen Ning passed out on the floor (he’d been invited, truly, to sleep in the empty spot next to her, only he’d fallen asleep long before everyone else and moving him to an actual bed proved to be very difficult when all the adults in the room were half (three fourths) wine drunk and giggling, so they’d just put a pillow under his head and wrapped him in their softest blankets and left it at that). She practices all the meditation tricks Lan Zhan had taught her; tries to calm her mind and her breathing and her heart.

It doesn’t work.

God, she wishes to herself, regardless of however illogical it may be, I wish Lan Zhan was in my bridal party.

With a sigh, she spends some time reflecting. She’s made so many bad decisions in her life, ones that have resulted in no less than three broken arms (sorry A-Cheng), many school detentions, almost getting expelled from university, a car accident that had left Shijie with seatbelt burns and a black eye from the airbag and Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, had left Lan Zhan, who’d been sitting prim and proper in the back seat, with scars that still lingered across the expanse of her back in the shape of all of Wei Ying’s nightmares. She’d chosen to hide away after that for three years in a different city with different hair and a different smile on her face and pretend like she didn’t feel a bone crushing loneliness in her entire being every time she thought of her Shijie, and didi, and her Lan Zhan who wasn’t really hers anymore, and that fact that in her self imposed exile she would never seen any of them again. That was, until Lan Zhan found her and dragged her back home and made her whole again.

Wei Ying was always whole, Lan Zhan would say, has said, I just helped Wei Ying find a way back. Will always bring Wei Ying back.

But with all that behind her and mostly wrapped up, this, tonight, right here, feels like her worst idea yet. She’d been so confident too! Had fought every naysayer, including Lan Zhan herself, with a cocky smile and a wave of her hand.

Brides shouldn't see each other the night before the wedding! She had laughed, and then laughed harder when Lan Zhan’s fingers had tightened where they dug into her hip, Besides, we’re not one of those couples! We can handle one night apart!

And she had been right, for the most part. Of course she missed Lan Zhan, but a night spent apart, having fun with her little family, all of them basking in the shared excitement of her impending nuptials. What she hadn’t anticipated was trying to sleep without Lan Zhan beside her, not when she’s this nervous, hadn’t thought about how deeply she would miss Lan Zhan’s warm weight behind her, her steadying arm firm around her waist, holding Wei Ying together like she did every night. She feels the absence with every shift of her hips that press backwards into nothing, every time she throws an arm out to rest on an empty pillow and the fact that there are no warm, soft, calves to ruthlessly shove her cold toes against.

By the time she picks up her phone again, everyone in the room is peacefully asleep and the clock on her bedside table blinks 2:36, proud and red and rude, if you ask Wei Ying. She gives up on sleep and starts mentally calculating exactly how much concealer she’ll need to cover the bags under her eyes. After all, she wants to look her absolute best for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan who is so steady and warm and beautiful, Lan Zhan who could open her mouth wide and eat Wei Ying’s entire heart in one bite but doesn’t, instead offering her own heart up on a silver platter for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying opens their messages on her phone, reads through the last few, laughs at the pictures she’d sent earlier in the night of Nie Mingjue, eyes half lidded with alcohol, laying messy kisses to the side of Xichen-ge’s face, who seemed to be accepting them with grace and only slightly tinged red ears. She taps her fingers on the screen, starting a message, lan zhan i can’t slee-

She doubles back, erasing it, deciding she doesn’t need to be whiny the night before their wedding, when Lan Zhan is surely asleep anyways. Again she starts, good early morning, lan zhan! i can’t wait to see you in your-

Too much, that is utterly too much. i love you, she types, hesitates with her thumb over the send button. What if the sound of her phone wakes Lan Zhan up? What if then Lan Zhan can’t fall back asleep? What if Lan Zhan tosses and turns all night and ends up with a headache, overtired on their wedding day of all times? What if this texts absolutely ruins everythi-

Her phone sounds, the little swooping noise it makes when she receives a new message on the thread she’s already looking at. She looks down and finds a link from Lan Zhan to a video of baby bunnies playing together with a message that says, When we return from our honeymoon, I think it is time we get another bunny. Possibly two.

And well. Her decision is made for her really. If Lan Zhan is awake, laying in her own bed in a room on the other side of the hotel, fighting off insomniatic boredom with bunny videos, there’s no way Wei Ying can stay here and allow them both to suffer.

She finds herself glad that Wen Ning is on the floor, though it looks a tad uncomfortable, because she’s able to slip out of bed with ease, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. The only thing she grabs is her phone, not even bothering to try to find her shoes in the colossal mess that is her dark bridal room, littered with take out and bottles and stripped off clothing. Her nose crinkles, amused, when she thinks of the look of reprove she’ll surely get from Lan Zhan when she realizes Wei Ying walked around barefoot.

She manages to zigzag her way to the door without stepping on anything or making any noise, a feat she will congratulate herself on later. The door opens slowly, making the barest hint of noise as yellow hotel-hallway light floods the entrance to the room. Wei Ying pumps her fist, gloating at being able to sneak out without a single one of her party-poopers (read: caring family) waking up to ruin it for her and make her climb back into her own bed.

That is, until she catches Nie Huaisang’s eyes, watching her from where he lays next to Jiang Cheng. The most dangerous opponent, really, because with one shove of his arm he’d have Jiang Cheng up and yelling, alarming the whole room before she’d even make it to the elevator. She’s not sure she knows the layout of the hotel well enough to make it safely inside Lan Zhan’s room before one of them caught her.

Silent, slow, she moves one finger up to place over her lips, keeping eye contact with Nie Huaisang the whole time. She pleads with him from across the room, imploring him to be cool. He blinks, once, twice, slow like a cat in the sun, and then closes his eyes a third time for good and raises one, slow, thumbs up to her.

Her sigh of relief is the last noise in the room before she shuts the door and power walks to the elevator at the end of the hallway. She is going to buy him the biggest fruit basket. She dances by herself once inside the elevator, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in her red silk sleep tank and shorts, goosebumps prickling her arms and thighs. If only Lan Zhan’s room wasn’t so stupidly far away.

Of course her room has to be far away! Jiang Cheng had yelled when Wei Ying whined about it, the second you start drinking all you want to do is sit in her lap! You’re lucky I’m letting her party stay in the same hotel as yours!

And well, he hadn’t been wrong, per say, she thinks to herself as she tiptoes off the elevator and down the maze-like hall to get to Lan Zhan’s room. She still didn’t appreciate the distance though. She quietly tap taps on the door with one hand, pressing send on a text with the other that reads, lan zhan let me in lan ZHAN!!!

The door opens before her hand has even fallen back to her side. And there is her Lan Zhan, in soft cloud print pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, hair drawn up into a neat bun, eyes tired but awake.

“Wei Ying,” she says, the smile in her voice all Wei Ying needs to know about her welcome. She slides closer, wrapping her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, grinning when she feels the others arms sneak around her waist.

“Mmm, Lan Zhan,” she hums against Lan Zhan’s neck, moving up to her tiptoes so she can nuzzle her nose against the corner of Lan Zhan’s jaw, “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”

“I thought I was not supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding,” Lan Zhan replies, but she’s already inching backwards into the room, dragging Wei Ying along with her.

“Who ever said that?” Wei Ying asks, knowing full well she was the one who said that, a smile on her face when she lets Lan Zhan drop her into bed.

“Besides,” she says, once Lan Zhan is settled beside her, reaching one hand up to pet the side of Lan Zhan’s face, thumb rubbing gentle circles across the expanse of Lan Zhan’s cheekbone, “Does it count if there’s two brides? I don’t think so, we cancel each other out, see? If anything we have to do the opposite, you know, we have to see each other extra hard tonight.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, her lips pulling up ever so slightly on one side as she leans in to rest her forehead against Wei Ying’s, legs tangling together, one hand sliding underneath Wei Ying’s shirt to spread warm and wide and firm in the valley between her shoulder blades, “Is that so?”

“Yes, tonight we have to,” Wei Ying nods, finally allowing her eyes to close as she presses further into Lan Zhan’s embrace, sleep finally weighing on her shoulders. She lets her head drop down, lips brushing against Lan Zhan’s collarbone, breathing her words right into Lan Zhan’s chest, “And every night too. I’ll tack that on for free, Lan Zhan, every night.”

“Yes, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs against her hair and melts under Wei Ying’s nimble fingers, relaxed at once with the promise of forever, “Every night.”

“I love you,” Wei Ying whispers, one final thing, around a yawn and finally, finally settles for the night. She almost misses Lan Zhan’s whispered reply, I love you too.

But she doesn’t. She never wants to miss a single thing Lan Zhan has to say.

Coda:

For all of fifteen seconds, the world is warm and bright and everything good when Wei Ying wakes up. Toned legs tangle with her own and a soft hand pets her hair away from her face, gentle and comforting again and again. She herself is pressed messily against Lan Zhan’s chest, quite possibly, embarrassingly, drooling ever so slightly. She does not have time to register this, however, before the banging starts.

“Wei Wuxian, I know you’re in there!” comes a belt from the other side of the door, that has her shooting up in an awkward half sitting position, splayed on one-fourth on the bed and three-fourths in Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan’s hands act as a steadying force, one on her hip, the other on her back, as she blinks deliriously around the room.

Nie Mingjue seems to be in a similar position, probably blinking off a hangover and propelling up from his sleeping position, glaring around the room like he might find the source of their disturbance somewhere inside. Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, groans loud and long, pressing his pillow over his ears.

“I see you are up,” Lan Xichen smiles from the little table where he sits, drinking his cup of tea peacefully, unperturbed by the pounding on their door, “I hope you rested well.”

“I did, thank you Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying tries to laugh around the blush high in her cheeks, only now really registering the fact that Lan Zhan was also sharing a room and not, in fact, alone just waiting for Wei Ying to traipse her way in.

But when she looks down at the woman laying beside her, she sees none of her own embarrassment reflected there, only a fond smile and a soft hand reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ears. Huh, she thinks, revising her earlier thoughts, maybe not alone but definitely waiting for me.

“Wei Wuxian!” comes again from outside the door, though this time it just has her laughing, pushing into Lan Zhan’s hands like a cat.

“When did you get here?” Nie Mingjue asks, rubbing at his eyes. But he stands and stumbles his way over to Xichen and the tea and doesn’t seem particularly hard pressed for an answer, so Wei Ying ignores it.

“Hi, we’re getting married today,” she says instead, meeting Lan Zhan’s smile with her own.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums while the banging on the door stops. Finally, Wei Ying sighs, leaning down to press her lips against Lan Zhan’s, chaste because they are still in front of Lan Zhan’s brother and her brother in law. She’s still there when the door pops open, revealing a quietly furious Wen Qing.

“Wei Wuxian,” she seethes, taking calculated steps closer, “You were supposed to stay in your bed.”

“I did!” Wei Ying says, smiling wide to prove her innocence, “Lan Zhan is my bed!”

“I am going to-” Jiang Cheng barges through, leaving no one to hold the door open; it swings heavily back straight towards Jiang Yanli.

Before Wei Ying can even shout a disgruntled hey! Jin Zixuan, who was already on his way to the door, catches it with his hand and leads Jiang Yanli inside with a gentle hand and a soft smile that makes Wei Ying want to puke.

But Yanli-jie smiles back, big and happy and unashamed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Hello, husband.”

“Good morning, A-Li,” he says back, wistful and dopey as he leads her inside with a soft hand on the small of her back. Right in that moment, Wei Ying decides maybe she doesn’t hate him. For now.

“Sorry, Shijie,” Jiang Cheng responds, automatic when he looks back but Jiang Yanli waves him off with a forgiving smile.

“I know it wasn’t on purpose A-Cheng.”

The commotion leaves Wei Ying relaxed in a way she should have known better than to be, because all too soon she is being hoisted away from her warm spot on the bed and dragged out of the room.

“You promised, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing snaps, but Wei Ying can already hear the forgiveness in her voice, the amusement. Wei Ying lets herself be dragged along, barefoot again, back to her own room. And then because honestly she’s a little on the edge of too-excited and too-in love she shouts over her shoulder:

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, Wife!” and maintains vision of the room just long enough for Lan Zhan, who’d pushed herself into an upright position, turn red and drop back down into the bed with a gasp, like all of the air had been knocked out of her.

Wei Ying’s cackles are only rivaled by the quiet, but pleased chuckles from Lan Xichen.

“Do you have to be such an annoyingly sweet couple every single day?” Wen Qing huffs, letting go of her (fake, Wei Ying is pretty sure) anger entirely, sliding her arm up so they can lock elbows, walking arm and arm back to Wei Ying’s room.

Wei Ying thinks of Lan Zhan, warm around her and ever inviting, even if it was 2AM, even if Wei Ying looked like a ragamuffin, even if, even if, and smiles wide, cheesy, deliriously with all the right decisions she’s made in this life and says, “Yes.”

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #lan xichen #wen qing #wen ning #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my writing #my fics #jiangchengrights

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handweavers · 4 years

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top 5 historical figures :3

there are sooo many i’ll just list the ones i find most interesting at the moment and most of them are roman bc i’ve been reading a lot about the ancient mediterranean lately :3 i tried to make it short but....well

1. the gracchi brothers (late roman republic) - tiberius gracchi was a tribune (basically a bureaucrat) who tried to institute land reform bills to combat the extreme wealth inequality and financial crisis plaguing the poor of rome that would redistribute land to poor people and limit the amount of land that could be owned by one person and the senators literally beat him to death in the street with their bare hands. his brother gaius then became a tribune and tried to do the same thing as well as pushed for the government to give subsidized grain to the urban poor so they wouldn’t starve to death all the time and the senators had him beheaded. they were later greatly admired by left radicals during the french revolution and later lenin in russia.

2. julie d’aubigny (late 17th century france) - sword-slinging bisexual opera singer who wore men’s clothes and seduced many men and women across europe. fell in love with another woman while working as an opera singer and the girl’s family found out and sent her to a convent, julie followed and set the convent on fire and ran away with her girlfriend. like a million things happened after her life was wild but this paragraph from an article on her makes me scream: “her career in paris was interrupted after she attended a court ball in men’s clothes and kissed a young woman on the dance floor, for which insult she was challenged to a duel by three different noblemen. she told each of them she would meet him outside, fought them all at once, and beat them all. but given that louis had outlawed duels, she had to flee to brussels, where she became the lover of the elector of bavaria. he found her a bit too much to handle after she stabbed herself on stage with a real dagger, and offered her 40,000 francs to leave him alone. she threw the coins at the feet of his emissary and stomped off to madrid in a huff.” queen

3. elagabalus (roman emperor c. 218 ce) - this short-lived syrian emperor ascended to the throne aged 14 and was very very very probably a trans girl. i’ll use she/her pronouns bc while i really don’t know how she would have identified within our current framework historical context blah blah blah literally....as a trans person... elagabalus was trans. elagabalus named herself after the latin version of the name of the syrian sun god, and became “notorious” for dressing as a woman, decked in wigs, makeup, and fashionable frocks. she married four women and a male athlete, and also fell in love with her charioteer, a slave named hierocles. elagabalus apparently “delighted to be called the mistress, the wife, the queen of hierocles,” preferred to be called a woman, and reputedly offered to reward any doctor who could give her bottom surgery to have a vulva. she didn’t really care about the roman religion and replaced several roman deities including jupiter with syrian gods. she was also reported to have engaged in sex work, and lavished favours on male courtiers. she was known for being “extremely eccentric and decadent” and she was assassinated in 222 ce aged approx. 18 years of age. modern historians and contemporary writers of her time have been incredibly cruel to her but i think she was really cool and i like that she just did whatever she wanted, and she really didn’t deserve to die like she was literally just a teenager. also think its incredibly funny that she didn’t give a fuck about the roman pantheon and just played around with it and added all of her syrian gods to it and got rid of the roman ones and when it pissed off all of the senators she was like “so????” we stan

4. al-khayzuran (abbasid queen-mother, wife, and slave c. 8th century ce) her story is really complex and fascinating but basically, she was of yemeni arab descent and was sold into slavery before becoming the favourite concubine of the abbasid caliph al-mahdi and mothering two children who would go on to become caliphs themselves. during the reign of her husband and her two children, she was their de-facto co-ruler and involved herself in politics outside of the harem (women’s quarters), which was unusual for the time. this article on her is really good and this bit summarizes her well: “harun al-rashid (r. 786-809), arguably one of the greatest of the abbasid caliphs, is well known to many historians and history enthusiasts for his deeds and for presiding over the “golden age” of the abbasid caliphate. however, his mother, khayzuran, does not lay as much claim to fame as her illustrious son, despite the fact that she was the power behind his throne (while she lived) and that of his father and brother before him. during her life and career khayzuran rose from the status of slave to becoming the caliph, al-mahdi’s (r. 775-785), favorite concubine, and then his legal wife and a queen in her own right who wielded an immense amount of political power and whose wealth was second only to that of her husband’s in the entire caliphate. this feat was impressive not only because khayzuran was able to elevate herself from slavery to royalty, but also because she did it during an era when social mobility, for both men and women, was very limited or in most cases impossible.” also, one of my favourite bits of info about her: when her son, caliph al-hadi, disrespected her and threatened to have her favourite son (harun al-rashid) killed and attempted to assassinate her, she secretly had HIM assassinated by getting some of her pretty female slaves to seduce and then smother him with pillows, which made harun al-rashid caliph of the abbasid empire.

5. as always......hadrian (roman emperor c. 117-138 ce) - he was born in roman spain and became emperor after trajan, and is considered one of the last “good five emperors” prior to the decline of western rome. he spent most of his reign travelling across the empire basically as a tourist, wanting to learn as much as possible about everything, and constructing new buildings as he went including hadrian’s wall in brittania. he had “an insatiable curiosity about everything and everybody. the christian writer tertullian called him omnium curiositatum explorator, an explorer of everything interesting. that curiosity was bred of a keen intellect and an anguished spirit.” he was interested in astrology, greek poetry, and considered himself an “aesthete” who would climb mount etna and jabal agra (in sicily and syrian antioch respectively) just to watch the sun rise. he wore a beard in the greek style even though he was mocked by his senators (but the beard would become a trend that future emperors would follow) and they considered him to be complicated and often paradoxical - he could be extremely kind and also very cruel, loud and rapacious and yet gentle and compassionate, rational and logical and yet completely irrational, etc. his marriage was childless, likely because he was gay and not at all interested in women. he developed an intense relationship with a turko-greek youth antinous, who later died under suspicious circumstances and hadrian’s grief was so immense he had thousands of statues erected for him and immortalized him in the roman pantheon of gods. to this day people across the former roman empire still find statues of antinous, accidentally digging them up in their backyards. in extreme contrast, he was also the emperor who suppressed the bar kokhba revolt in judea, basically wiped judea off the map and replaced it with the region of syria palestina, and this war resulted in the deaths of thousands of jewish people, and those who survived were sold into slavery or exiled. this event basically created the concept of jewish people as a diaspora, the major exile. this was the only major war or conflict during his reign - the rest was notably peaceful - but it was one of the bloodiest in roman history and the consequences of it are still extremely relevant. i find him a really fascinating historical figure as a result of all of these paradoxes and because he was ultimately responsible for one of the most consequential actions in world history.

#i meant to type this in 5 minutes but well........#god help me #long post #transmisogyny tw #antisemitism tw

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life” [ 3.01 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (dylanporlando) || Official Page || AO3

OUR LAST SUMMER – The Adams gang takes advantage of the final week of summer, while Charlie begins his senior year at Haverford Prep. Zay wraps up his run in West Side Story. Dylan and Asher pay Isadora a visit, and Farkle gets help from an unlikely source.

60 Minutes (23K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← The Sun Will Rise ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Almost There → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Riley’s newest accommodations are about the same as we last left them, two beds still arranged in the space. The reminder of why there’s two appears when MAYA HART reenters the space, fresh out of the shower and wrapped up in a plush baby pink towel. She’s starting her day right, bright and early, going through her usual glam routine even in the summer.

She pauses to look at Riley’s bed, unmade and empty. In fact, it looks like it hasn’t been touched since the previous morning. Next to it, the window is open, letting in the summer breeze.

Maya makes a face, tsking with a shake of her head. Well, this can only end well. Then she shrugs, spinning to her side of the room. She places her phone down on the vanity and scrolls to a playlist titled “Mama’s Favorites.” With the press of a button, music fills the room, and so does that energetic spirit of AMBITION.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All Summer Long” as performed by Kid Rock || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)

The rollicking old-fashioned rock tune injects a rhythm into the otherwise quiet morning, giving Maya something to groove to as she moves around getting ready. She sings along to the music, taking over the vocals for the most part.

She moves over to the wall where her future moodboard is hanging up, right above a year calendar. It’s August, though obviously the summer month is nearing its end. Maya scratches out the current day, Monday, leaving us to linger on the details scribbled onto the following Monday as she dances away. The 31st. Last day of August, and for them, the last day of summer.

Next to a bright red star sticker, a few simple words. “Last First Day @ AAA.”

EXT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

The protective rolling door springs up as the Orlando community center opens for the day, DYLAN ORLANDO the one opening the place up that morning. He squints out at the sunshine, then grins, smile bright enough to rival the sun.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan continues setting up for the day as he slides around, earbuds in his ears and six-string strapped on his back. He’s grown an inch or so over the summer, and his hair is a little longer, though just as windswept and fluffy as usual. Subtle changes, really, but the kind of stuff you notice after a whole hiatus apart.

On the counter, his phone vibrates with a reminder: “Open CC.” Underneath that, we can see texts from Asher.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Another phone vibrates on the floor in the backseat of Riley’s sedan. It’s resting against a scrunched up string bag, lighting up with a call from “Dad.” When it goes to voicemail, we see this is not the first call that’s been missed -- in fact, there’s been about six since 8:30AM. Behind all those notifications, we can just make out a lock screen image of Riley, Isadora, and Lucas.

It’s no surprise who is missing all those calls. The last of the vibrations from the call rouse RILEY MATTHEWS, stretched on the backseat where she dozed off. She’s sharing the cramped space with LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, shirtless (there’s an AAA first for the history books) and seemingly unopposed to being half-used as a pillow.

He’s still sound asleep, no stranger to resting in weird places. As Riley wakes up, she takes a long moment to look at him, a dreamy, fond smile drifting across her face. She doesn’t even notice what’s off about the situation, perfectly happy to see him first thing in the morning… until her phone starts buzzing again.

Then, she remembers real quick. Her eyes widen, glancing around and realizing where she is, who she’s with, and the fact that there’s sunlight streaming through the windows. Last she recalls, it was night. She shoots upright.

Riley, harshly: Shit!

She scrambles to grab her phone, repeating the curse. She nudges Lucas to get up, starting to gather her things together. The movement is what actually wakes him up, but his T-shirt getting tossed in his face is what informs him the situation must be urgent.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - DAY

JACK HUNTER is having a far less stressful morning, already up and ready to go. He’s dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, but he grabs his briefcase as he heads out the door.

INT. JACK’S CAR - APARTMENT GARAGE - DAY

It’s not until he makes it to his car that his morning takes a turn for the worse. Jack turns his key in the ignition and… nothing. He tries again, and gets nothing but a complaining growl of the engine.

Jack: Oh, you’re kidding me…

He tries again, but no. His trusty old car has called it quits. Jack curses under his breath, grabbing his bag and clambering out of the car.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Jack is jogging down the street towards the closest Subway station. He passes by an Off-Broadway theater venue as he goes, our attention shifting to the exterior of it. Outside the theater, a poster of their current production is proudly displayed. West Side Story.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Contrasting to the bright summer sunshine, the interior of the theater is softer lit, more inviting to the eyes. It’s a well-kept space, obviously a venue that takes itself seriously.

On the stage, performers are stretching and mingling before their cast warm-up, amongst them ZAY BABINEAUX. He’s the youngest by a long shot, but he seems to fit in seamlessly with the rest of them as if he’s a seasoned professional. He cracks jokes with some of his co-stars as he joins them by the orchestra pit, confident and warmly received.

He’s totally in his element. For a moment, it might be easy to forget he’s still a teenager. He shifts into work mode when the DIRECTOR joins them on stage and beckons them together for notes and vocal warm-ups.

She leads them in a quick grounding exercise, encouraging them all to take a deep breath. As they inhale…

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is also taking a deep breath, though something about the moment seems… off. It isn’t until the screen starts tilting, flipping us right-side up, that it’s clear Farkle is upside down. He’s reclined on his bed, head hanging off the edge as he finishes a breathing meditation exercise guided by his phone.

The moment it ends, he pulls himself back upright. He’s dressed comfortably, but sharper than most of last year, finally approaching a happy medium between the extremes of his personality. His hair has grown back from its buzzcut, closer to the coiff it once was.

He climbs off the bed, heading to his window and drawing back the curtains. Sunlight floods the room, presenting a stark contrast to his state this time last year.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

ERIC MATTHEWS is also enjoying the sunshine, soaking it up with a content smile as he waits in line at the local coffee shop. When it’s his turn and he approaches the counter, the barista asks him if he wants “the usual.” He nods, gracing her with a smile and then moving to the area to wait for his order.

While there, he crafts a text on his phone. It’s to Isadora, checking in on her and giving her a list of small reminders for when she wakes up -- brush her teeth, change her clothes, find something to eat, even if it’s small. He also notes that he’ll be back before dinner.

Their message thread seems to be pretty one-sided. Isadora’s answers are sparse, and when she does they’re usually one word. But Eric doesn’t seem perturbed by it.

Once his order is ready and he goes to retrieve it, we see that his “usual” is two coffees. That seems like an awful lot of caffeine to be drinking alone, Eric… he gives the crew at Svorski’s a cheerful wave goodbye, heading out.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya is further in her glam routine, still owning the song and dancing around the room as she goes. Make-up, hair, the works. She’s wearing a sheer off-white robe over her camisole and shorts, more for the aesthetic than any sort of cover-up -- Sharpay Evans and Cher Horowitz would be proud. The montage continues to cut to her intermittently through the remainder of the song.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Unlike Eric and Jack, not everyone is dressed casually this Monday morning. Quick close shots show the careful process of getting an outfit together -- tightening a striped blue tie, adjusting cuffs, pulling on a deep navy blue blazer.

As we pan up, CHARLIE GARDNER finishes piecing together his Haverford uniform. He looks markedly different from when we last saw him, hair cut much shorter than it was at the end of junior year. He looks great in his uniform, sharp, clean-cut and well-groomed, but he doesn’t look confident in it. It’s more like the uniform is wearing him.

But he doesn’t have time to obsess over it. It’s his first day, and he wants to give himself plenty of time to get oriented. He grabs his bag off the bed with a change of clothes and a pair of dance sneakers. The rest of his dance duffle gets left behind, sitting forgotten by the wall with his guitar.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan, however, has no shortage of guitar. He takes the guitar solo in the latter half of the song, shredding on his six-string and bopping around the community center.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Riley pulls up at the curb to let Lucas out in a rush -- back in his shirt -- questioning if he has everything and passing his phone to him when he almost leaves it on the center console. He’s fully out of the car when she shouts for him to come back one more time.

Riley: Wait, wait, wait --

Lucas leans inside just long enough for Riley to stretch across the seat and give him a kiss. Then she sets him free, assuring him that she’ll catch up with him soon.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Lucas, still a little dazed, backs onto the sidewalk as Riley’s car speeds away. He watches her go, then shakes his head, trying to pull himself back together. He turns and heads inside where she’s dropped him off -- the beloved Chubbies, his new workplace.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - DAY

Another calendar comes into focus, though this one is far more cluttered with notes and reminders than Maya’s. Someone leans in to cross an “X” over the current day, and when we pull back we see a familiar bulletin board populated with photos, flyers, and note cards.

Though there are many new photos from the summer, the most notable is the creased but unfolded photo of Dylan, Lucas, and Asher, back in its rightful place pinned up. Next to it, there’s a pamphlet for a university, the Rochester Institute of Technology.

ASHER GARCIA steps back from the board, shifting his focus to his agenda laying open on the desk. He’s sporting a cute, patterned short-sleeve button down, a summer spin on his usual attire. He gathers up a couple of notebooks and folders for the school year, way ahead of the game in preparing for the school year.

He drops one set into his messenger bag, then puts the others into the backpack slouched against the wall next to it. Based on the Spongebob patch and doodles all over it, it’s no guess who the extra bag belongs to.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan continues his groovy guitar playing as the song crescendos into the final chorus.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Jack has finally made it to the familiar stomping grounds of Adams Academy for the Arts, jogging up the steps without hesitation.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya similarly boogies around, now ready for the day.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Charlie moves with more apprehension as he steps off the main street and onto Haverford’s campus, a spacious chunk of a block on the Upper East Side. The school boasts an open-air, modern architecture, a far cry from the classic structure of Adams. He has to move through the lawn and outdoor eating pavilions before he gets close to the building itself, other boys dressed in the sleek Haverford blue mingling around him.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie braves the plunge and approaches the tall glass doors, disappearing into the belly of the beast.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

As the song winds down, Riley clambers up the fire escape and back in through her bedroom window. She’s way too late, though, a fuming and frantic CORY MATTHEWS waiting for her return with his arms crossed. Behind him, Maya watches the scene with amusement.

Cory: Riley Erica Matthews!

Riley grimaces, halfway through the window. Busted.

Riley: Oh, shi --

Cue title sequence.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s with great joy that I finally say: welcome back to AMBITION.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY

Charlie is seated in a posh oak chair opposite the desk of AARON JACKSON, who is leisurely leafing through his transfer paperwork. Despite their names, there is little in common between Principal Jackson and Principal Hunter of AAA. Whereas Jack always had an edge of grit, Aaron has a dignified, refined air about him -- the shine of a man who has always known privilege. His office feels the same, darker and more studious in appearance, reflecting the nature of the school.

Still, he’s not without warmth. He seems good-spirited as he gives Charlie a light smile, peering at him over his paperwork. Charlie manages to return it, trying his best not to appear as nervous as he is.

Aaron: Nice recommendations, good community service record. Excellent grades… do you think you may have been valedictorian at Adams?

Charlie: Oh, I don’t know. I had classmates a lot smarter than me in the A class.

Aaron hums, focusing back on the paperwork. Then he sets it on the desk, giving Charlie his full attention.

Aaron: I hope you don’t mind my asking, Mister Gardner, but I’m curious. It’s not often that we get transfers so late in their high school career, especially not from Adams Academy. To be frank, you’d find that a fair handful of your peers here at Haverford had Adams as their first choice when they applied, but didn’t make the cut.

The question goes without saying. What is he doing there, jumping schools, when he likely had it made in the shade at AAA? Charlie clears his throat, offering his practiced charming smile.

Charlie: I just thought that the change of pace might be good for me. Adams is great, of course, and I was sad to leave it. I’m going to miss… it will be an adjustment, for sure, but I’m sure I’ll find exactly the enrichment I need while at Haverford.

Well, hard to argue with that flattering assessment. Aaron doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he brushes it off easily. It’s not his business after all.

Aaron: Well, we’re happy to have you with us regardless. With your impressive record, and your dance ability, I have no doubt you’ll fit well within the ranks of the Haverford senior class.

With that, Aaron gets down to business, shifting to discussing his schedule and how things work at the school. Once they’re done going through the necessary orientation points, Aaron will make sure he gets to performance lab, and his classmates will take it from there.

Charlie maintains his pleasant smile as he’s handed his welcome packet and schedule, but it falters as he starts flipping through it.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Back in the brighter principal’s office, Jack is flurrying about trying to get things in order after his uneven start that morning. Eric appears in his doorway with a cheery greeting, passing off that second coffee to Jack as soon as he notices him and returns his hello. Jack takes the beverage gratefully, commenting that Eric always knows exactly what he needs.

Eric clearly takes pride in the comment, coming further into the room. He comments on Jack’s frazzled state, and Jack explains that his car decided to stop working this morning. As tragic as that news is, Eric doesn’t seem surprised.

Eric: Jack, you’ve been driving that dinosaur for like fifteen years, and it wasn’t new when you bought it. It was bound to crap out eventually.

Jack: William is a fighter, Eric. He wouldn’t just give up on me like that.

Eric rolls his eyes, reminding Jack that he’s way more theatrical than he lets on. He points out that things get old, and they die. It’s the circle of life. Life has a funny way of letting you know when things don’t work as they are anymore, when it’s time to move on.

Eric: I’m more surprised you walked all the way here.

Jack: Subway was running late.

Eric: Not my point. I would’ve given you a ride.

Jack: You’re coming from the opposite direction.

Eric: You know I don’t care about that. I would’ve picked you up.

From the tone of their banter, it’s clear that it wouldn’t be the first time Eric and Jack have carpooled this summer. Jack hesitates, meeting his gaze, before shrugging it off and directing them back to the task at hand. They’ve got a big week ahead, as they have to assess Adams for any damage and make sure everything is in sterling shape before the school year kicks off again.

This year, it matters more than ever. As Jack states, they’ll be having a new coworker join them this year from the school board as an administrative advisor, meant to observe how things are running after the turbulence of the Lucas and Bradford situation last year. So now, they really can’t afford to slip up.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Speaking of slip-ups, Riley reiterates the morning madness to Farkle and a tickled Maya, sitting in a booth at Chubbies. The divas are across from her while Lucas is seated next to her, arm casually draped around her shoulders as she relays Cory’s tirade and the resulting punishment: she’s basically forbidden from seeing Lucas for the rest of the week, at least until they go back to school and he can’t very well stop them.

Maya: So, like… hanging out at Chubbies?

Riley glances at Lucas, who raises an eyebrow. She clasps her hands together and shrugs, maintaining a tone of innocent sweetness.

Riley: Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Farkle: Wow. The summer of love really changed you.

Riley makes a face at him. Lucas claims Cory is going to get what he wants anyway, seeing as he can’t just sit around all day. As he starts to get up from the table his attire becomes clearer, dressed in a pale blue Chubbies t-shirt with an off-white apron tied around his waist. Riley tries to get him to stay, but she still helps him loop the top half of his apron around his neck.

Lucas: I gotta work.

Riley: Okay, okay… but I’ll see you later.

Lucas: Very daring of you.

The two of them exchange a quick kiss, Riley smiling as they pull apart. Maya scrunches her nose, playfully disgusted.

Maya: Ew.

As Lucas marches away, he points back to Maya offhandedly.

Lucas: I’m not serving you.

Maya scowls, holding her hands up in surrender to Riley and Farkle. Farkle laughs, shaking his head. Riley changes the subject, electing to focus on the positive. She claims that maybe the Lucas ban will be a good thing, as it’ll give her plenty of time to spend with her favorite friends in their last week of their last high school summer.

Farkle: Sounds lovely. But can’t.

As Farkle goes on to explain -- bitterly -- he has a million doctors appointments scheduled for the week as his parents are determined to make sure he’s in top shape to go back to school. This is following a whole summer of therapies and overattentiveness and mindfulness exercises -- which he hates, by the way.

Farkle: I’m supposed to have thoughts! If our brains weren’t meant to think, then we wouldn’t think.

Maya: Most people don’t.

Farkle: Point is, mindfulness is bullshit. It makes me feel crazy, and I’m already crazy. It’s just ironic that last year all I wanted was my parents’ attention, and now I can’t wait for them to leave me alone…

Maya: Grass is always greener, darling.

Riley seems disappointed she won’t see more of him this week, but she keeps her sights set on the future. She confirms that he’s still going to go to West Side Story on Saturday night. It’s Zay’s last performance in the production, and she wants to get as many of them there to support him as possible.

Farkle assures her he can manage that, then gets up to head off to his first appointment of the day. Without him, all that leaves for company… is Maya. She gives Riley a sharp smile, Riley laughing awkwardly and dipping her head down to avoid her gaze. Wow, suddenly, she just remembered a bunch of stuff she has to do…

Maya rolls her eyes, leaning across the table to nudge at her. She claims it’ll be a good thing for them to hang out -- they haven’t done very much roommate bonding since they were forced to share a space.

Riley: Something you specifically said you weren’t interested in when it happened…

Maya: Yes, well, times change. Speaking of, our room. That could use some change, don’t you think? I can’t live in the humdrummery any longer.

This doesn’t seem like the worst potential bonding activity, but Riley seems hesitant. She says they’d have to ask Cory, a task that is far less intimidating to Maya than her. There’s no harm in asking. Tentatively, Riley agrees, though Maya seems dissatisfied with her hesitant answer.

Maya: Sneaking around with your boyfriend you can do, but you can’t ask your dad to redecorate? God, you gotta grow like a minimal assertive streak. You’d think some of mine would’ve rubbed off on you by now.

Riley doesn’t know what to say to that, but Maya doesn’t give her the chance to respond. She leaps up to head out and Riley follows suit, only falling behind when she runs into Asher and Dylan at the entrance. They exchange bright greetings, Riley sharing a hug with Dylan before she jogs to catch up to Maya.

Asher and Dylan find Lucas at the counter.

Dylan: Lucas James Friar! [ slamming his hands on the countertop ] Do you have something for me?

Dylan narrows his eyes expectantly. Lucas matches his glare, deadpan, until he cracks with a huff. He rolls his eyes and reaches to grab a perfectly-made grilled cheese, sliding it across the counter at him. Dylan reacts in delight, Asher smiling at him as the two of them settle onto the stools at the counter. Asher asks how things are going, and Lucas gives them the short version of how his morning started.

Dylan: [ while eating his grilled cheese ] Oh, overnight? Scandalous.

Lucas: It was not. We fell asleep. We were sleeping.

Dylan: Mhm, mhm. For sure. Totally. I believe you…

Dylan winks. Lucas rolls his eyes again and Asher shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile. Lucas claims it’s for the best, as it frees him up to spend the rest of his week working. He was pretty heavily booked with shifts anyway.

Lucas: I’m this close to being able to pay you back for my wrist --

Asher: Something that you do not have to do, for the hundredth time.

Lucas: Then I’ll be able to start saving it for myself. What for, I don’t know, but it’ll be damn nice to have it.

Asher points out he could be saving the money for school, but Lucas quickly side steps that conversation. He shifts to discussing what their week looks like before school starts again, all of them coming back to the same talking point -- Isadora. None of them have seen her for the last month or so, and any time they try to reach out she says she’s not up for visitors.

Understandable, given she’s grieving, but it’s been a couple months and they’re worried about her. Not to mention school is coming back, and that’ll be harder if she’s totally out of practice when it comes to socializing. Lucas can’t be of much help due to his work schedule, but he points out that’s not much of a loss as he’s terrible at stuff like this. Honestly, usually he and Isadora just tend to make each other worse at low points.

Before they can problem-solve, their conversation is interrupted by JOE, the Chubbies manager, breezing past them. He’s a large, slovenly man with Santa-like salt-and-pepper facial hair and in a Chubbies shirt that seems perpetually grease-stained. But he’s a smart businessman and quite the character, respected and loved fondly by the patrons of the diner and a decent boss. In fact, some regulars have taken to calling him “Pappy Joe,” due to his sort of roughrider demeanor.

He greets the boys gruffly, obviously well-acquainted with Dylan and Asher after a summer of them hanging around to chat with Lucas. They ask him if he thinks they’re going to keep Lucas on as an employee past his summer trial run. Joe sizes Lucas up, squinting, before patting his shoulder bracingly.

Joe: Well, he didn’t rob us blind or burn down the shack -- accidentally or otherwise -- so I s’pose we can keep him around.

Asher grins, nudging Lucas’s forearm in cheeky congratulations. Dylan smiles as well, subtly nudging his free grilled cheese out of view of the burly manager.

Once Joe saunters off, they get back on topic. Asher states that he and Dylan will check in on Isadora -- they’ve got Dylan, the one person to whom Isadora can’t say no. Depending on how she seems to be doing, they’ll go from there.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - BACKSTAGE - DAY

Zay opens the door from the atrium and emerges in the backstage hall, leading YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY on a tour of the theater. The two friends are starstruck, captivated by being around an actual production where the magic happens.

Zay is excitedly showing them around, pointing out fun facts and cool exclusive pieces like costumes and the props table. They exchange greetings and brief introductions with his castmates as they pass by, everyone friendly.

Once they end up in the wings and Yindra and Nigel marvel at the real bona fide Broadway set, Zay huddles closer and points towards the stage where a young man, dressed as Tony, is running through “Maria.” Zay tells them all about him and speaks highly of him, admiration in his tone.

Zay: He’s like a master. You’ve seen his rendition of “Something’s Coming.”

Nigel: Yeah, he was pretty good.

Zay: He’s great. And he’s a true professional, always on top of things, makes everyone else feel good and valued and welcome. I feel like I’ve watched his rehearsals so often I could do the part just by memory alone.

Yindra: Sounds like someone has a boy crush.

Zay rolls his eyes, elbowing her as they turn away. But his esteem doesn’t end there.

Zay: He’s exactly what I want to be, when I get there one day. Oh, and you know the craziest thing? He’s had a cold for the last week, but he still gets up and pushes through it every night to perform. And he sounds just as good! That’s showmanship to admire.

Maybe a little unhealthy, but then, I guess that’s show business. Nigel claims he’s glad he wasn’t sick when he saw it last month, or when he brought Jade to see it. Yindra agrees, though she jokingly claims no one could be better than their Zayby boy as she throws an arm around his shoulders and half-hugs him.

Nigel informs him that they’ll both be seeing it again that Saturday, and he thinks Jade is coming too. Riley is getting a whole bunch of them to come, she’s basically campaigning. Zay comments that sounds about right, considering it’s Riley. This leads them into a discussion about who from their class has come to see it already, Yindra and Nigel listing back and forth while Zay offers help here and there based on his knowledge.

When Charlie inevitably comes up, Zay grows quieter, losing some of his comfortable confidence. Yindra and Nigel don’t notice, too caught up in commentary about his whereabouts.

Nigel: I thought he did come. Didn’t he see it during opening week?

Yindra: That’s what Haley said was the plan, but then he didn’t show. Something about how his grandmother got ill so they had to drive up coast to see her.

Nigel: Really? I thought he said his grandmother was dead. Like two years ago.

Yindra: I mean, it’s exactly in line with how he’s been acting this summer. He has been so hard to get a hold of. I haven’t seen him at all.

This seems like the last thing Zay wants to talk about. He waits for a strategic lull in their complaints to change the subject, distracting them with offers to see the dressing rooms. They jump at the chance, leaving the conversation of their missing friend behind.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Your Love (Déjà Vu)” as performed by Glass Animals || Performed by Haverford Seniors

Charlie, meanwhile, is just beginning to explore Haverford. He slips into the auditorium from the back of the house, looking towards the stage where rehearsal is already in progress.

The Haverford seniors -- his new classmates -- are in the midst of a skillful rendition of the Glass Animals single. It pairs well with their signature strengths: layered harmonies, suave moves, synchronization. With the matching uniforms, only varied by whether the boys have elected to strip their blazers during rehearsal and whether they’ve rolled their sleeves, etc., it’s hard to differentiate any of them at first glance. They’re a perfect, polished machine of sonic harmony.

That is, except for their frontman. Carrying the brunt of the vocals front and center is BRANDON RIVAS, an especially debonair senior with slick confidence and obvious talent. We’ve seen him before, at the Jacobs gala and the students of color mixer. He’s got a charming, intriguing smirk and dark, glossy hair styled well enough to rival Asher.

Regardless of your feelings on them, the Haverford boys are mesmerizing to watch. The performance seems to slip by in no time flat, and before Charlie knows it they’re breaking to go freshen up before their next class. Brandon rattles off some general notes for them to work on before their next run-through, the rest of them giving him shoulder pats and farewells as they head off to the dressing rooms.

Suddenly, it’s just Charlie and Brandon. The latter half turns towards him, aware of his presence despite Charlie being well-hidden in shadow. He claims he can come up and join him now, no sense in staying in the dark. The direct address snaps Charlie out of his nerves, and he jogs up the steps to come meet him.

Brandon, smoothly: No need to be shy. This is your stage now too, isn’t it?

Maybe so. Charlie strides across the stage to stand in front of him, Brandon waiting casually with his hands in his pockets. He sizes him up as he approaches, looking him over, but for what it’s worth he doesn’t seem critical. He holds out a hand once he’s close enough.

Brandon: Brandon Rivas. Nice to finally officially meet you.

Charlie: Charlie. And thanks.

Brandon: I know who you are. I saw your audition, though I’m sure you don’t remember me. “I Can Do That” is a difficult number if you actually intend to show off any skill, and you managed it well. At least, after you tied your shoelaces. That, and I’d heard a bit about you through the grapevine.

Charlie clearly wants to know more about that, like who would even be talking about him, but Brandon doesn’t offer anything more. He changes the subject, stating that he’s essentially the eyes and ears of the senior class and the de facto leader, if there was one. They’re all equals at Haverford, make no mistake, but it’s helpful to have a figurehead of sorts. Someone to look to and maintain order.

Brandon: This will be helpful for you, of course, because you can ask me anything you might be wondering while you make your transition. I know just about everything there is to know. First, though, we should get you acquainted. Fancy a look around?

Charlie nods, grateful for the warm welcome. Brandon gestures for him to follow, leading him on the start of a grand tour of Haverford Prep from someone who actually knows the ins and outs day-to-day. Charlie keeps pace, not wanting to get left behind.

Jack, pre-lap: We need to do a full examination of the building.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric are making their way through the darkened school, the former leading the way while the latter takes notes on a clipboard. They’re inspecting for anything that seems out of date, not up to snuff, eager to make a perfect first impression for the incoming administrator.

Jack: I don’t want to give them any easy shots. If they want to criticize on baseless claims, then we’re going to make sure they have to dig deep.

Eric: Don’t think that should be too hard. The school itself is in great shape, and with the exception of the senior A class, the students have always done well. Even the A class is likely to be better after everything last year.

Jack: Yes, but when you’re looking for error --

Eric jogs to catch up to him, coming to head him off. He tucks the clipboard under his arm and takes Jack’s arms, gently stopping his relentless march and meeting his eyes.

Eric: You know this whole thing the board is doing is inane, right? You’re a good administrator. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but we all have. There is no such thing as perfect.

Jack: Very nice. Thank you for the affirmation, Hannah Montana.

Eric, sincerely: You do a good job, Jack. You love this school, and the students, and they appreciate you. They know it wouldn’t be the same without you.

Though it’s biased coming from his counselor, there’s actually quite a bit of weight to the statement coming from Eric. It means something, because for a long time Eric didn’t believe it. It means something, and it clearly means a lot to Jack.

Still, there might be other reasons he speaks so highly of him. Jack clears his throat, torn between holding his gaze and glancing anywhere else.

Jack: Some might say you’re biased. Especially given… the way we are. With each other.

Eric: … yeah? What exactly does that mean to you?

The air is suddenly a little bit thinner between them. It’s more than obvious as they hold eye contact that they both know they share something greater than coworkers. That they’re something more to one another. They know it, might have even discussed it, but evidently haven’t landed on anything definitive.

Jack ducks the question, shifting his gaze behind Eric. He comments that the curtains could probably afford to be replaced, or at least deep-cleaned. He effortlessly slips from Eric’s grasp and shifts back into work mode, leaving him to grapple with the uncertainty yet again.

Eric takes a deep breath, then follows after him with the clipboard. Still willing to march with him, even when he doesn’t know to what degree they’re tied together.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is sitting up on the examination table, having just finished consulting with his primary care physician. JENNIFER MINKUS is with him, there for the analysis of Farkle’s current state and where they should go from here.

All in all, good news. The physician commends Farkle’s improved BMI and overall health, that he’s picked back up the weight he lost last year and his vitals seem to be reading more stable than they were in the spring. While improvements could still be made -- more rigorous exercise, for one -- he’s well on his way to being back in shape.

When the doctor starts getting into specifics about what changes could be made and Jennifer takes out her phone to take notes, Farkle zones out. Blah, blah, blah, he’s heard all of it before. He pulls out his phone as well, but not for notes. He opens his message thread with Isadora instead, crafting a text to check in on her.

He texts her about being at the doctor and what’s going on with her this week, but doesn’t get an immediate response. Even though their banter seems to be more consistent and varied than the messages with Eric, she’s gone off the radar a bit for him, too.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Concluding their tour, Brandon shows Charlie what he states is one of his favorite locations on campus. It’s a balcony walkway that bridges the two wings of the school, joined under the angular solar-paneled glass ceilings. They approach the banister facing out towards the city, a gorgeous view of the campus below.

Charlie seems a bit overwhelmed after the tour. Brandon asks him what he thinks and he simply claims it’s a lot different than AAA. That goes without saying, given the vastly different architecture and student body, but there’s a loaded quality to the statement that goes deeper.

Brandon examines him, not giving anything away. It’s unclear if he’s empathizing or just trying to figure him out, but he assures Charlie that he’ll adjust to Haverford in no time. It’s the best school there is, after all, so there’s little chance he couldn’t.

Brandon: Thing about Haverford is that it’s tight. We’re a band of brothers, so we look out for each other. If you pull your weight, then the boys will be there when you need them. Even if you show up three years late.

Charlie: Oh, well, that’s reassuring.

Brandon: [ with a laugh ] I’m only saying, I don’t know why you’re here or why you decided to leave Adams, but the fact is you’re here now. You make the most of it, truly turn yourself over, then I have no doubt you’re going to thrive. You feel me?

All things considered, Charlie is grateful everyone seems to be so friendly. At least in completely cutting the cord from his former support system, he doesn’t have to drift through senior year alone. He offers a smile.

Charlie: Thanks. Seriously, that’s nice to hear.

Brandon returns the smile, though his is understandably more confident. He reaches out and gives Charlie a pat on the shoulder.

Brandon: Welcome to Haverford, Charlie. We’re happy to have you in the brotherhood.

Brandon leaves him be, heading back inside. Charlie hangs back, glancing out towards the city for a moment longer. Out towards the west side, where AAA sits preparing for a school year without him.

Then he backs off, straightening his tie as he follows Brandon inside.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric arrives home after a busy day, tired but still with plenty to do. He dumps his things on a table before making his way to Isadora’s bedroom, knocking on the door before peeking his head in.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is lying on her unmade bed, wearing pajamas she never changed out of and staring blankly at her ceiling, where glow-in-the-dark stars have been stuck on. She doesn’t move upon Eric’s arrival. He asks her questions about how she’s doing, but gets no response to any of them. He sighs, used to this type of interaction between them.

Eric: I’m going to make some dinner. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and you can either eat with me or in here. Whatever you want to do.

He watches her for a moment longer, concerned, but leaves her be when she turns onto her side, her back to him.

Once her door is shut again, Isadora takes a shaky breath. She sits up and grabs her phone, scrolling through the various notifications she has — Farkle and Eric’s texts, Maya sending her a post on Instagram, and a voice note from Dylan. She stares at the screen, inwardly battling between replying or ignoring. Ultimately, she throws the phone across her bed and flops onto her back, looking up at the stars on her ceiling once again.

As gentle piano fades in...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Mistake” as performed by Gabrielle Aplin || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Isadora starts the song on her bed, getting up after the first verse to walk around her room. She lingers on various things she passes. There’s a photo collage in a frame on her desk, filled with pictures taken over the past three years with her friends, to whom she sings “I really want a conversation, but I let it slip away...”

On her bedside table is a solar system lamp that spins when she pushes it. One wall is covered in space-themed movie posters, her fingers brushing along E.T. on a bicycle in front of the moon, and an astronaut sat alone on a bench in Love.

Following the chorus, as she sings “I saw my friend today, he tried to comfort me,” Isadora leaves her bedroom and walks over to where Eric is cooking in the kitchen, but he’s unaware of her presence.

I don’t think I’ll ever change...

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

With the swell of the chorus, Isadora leaves the apartment, transitioning to the streets of New York, where she continues to go unnoticed. People pass through her as though she’s a ghost. She imagines various familiar faces passing her by. Lucas playfully rolls his eyes at Dylan, who has an arm thrown around Asher’s shoulders, animatedly talking about something. Riley and Zay stand in line at a pretzel stand, laughing together at a joke Zay is telling. Finally, Maya pulls Farkle towards a shop window with excitement, pointing out a mannequin dressed in a glamorous faux fur coat. Farkle walks away, and Maya chases after him with a grin.

Isadora arrives in an empty park, decorated with fairy lights that twinkle like stars. She belts out the final chorus before the twinkling lights transition to the stars on her ceiling...

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

And we’re back in her bedroom for the final soft “well, at least it was my mistake…”

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - DAY

Cory convenes with Riley and Maya, the two of them finishing up their dissertation on why they should be allowed to redecorate their room. Since they’re going to have to make this arrangement work for a while, he agrees that perhaps they could afford to spruce things up. He gives them a small sum to work with on the family credit card -- not as much as Maya was hoping for, but still something. Victory!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

The girls immediately retreat to the bedroom to start planning, Maya pulling out some poster board from behind her dresser to start moodboarding. She sizes up the board, already trying to visualize it as Riley moves to her side of the room.

Maya: I admit I was hoping for a little more bank to work with, but it’s fine. I’m an artist. [ deep sigh ] I can get creative. Just with a little time to mentally rearrange…

Riley: Actually, we might have a little more money.

Maya’s eyes fly open, more intrigued at that than anything else Riley has ever said. She asks what she’s talking about, and Riley explains that she mentioned their plans to her mom, and she thought the idea was great. She may have sent over some money into her account for them to put towards the project. Maya asks how much, rushing over to look over Riley’s shoulder at her laptop screen.

However much money she sees, it’s enough to make her gasp and practically jump up and down. She presses her hands to her chest, theatrically overwhelmed.

Maya: Hell yes! Thank you, mama Lawrence.

Riley: I mean, it’s nice, but don’t consider it charity. She’s always looking for ways to one-up my dad, so it’s more for her benefit than ours.

Maya: God damn, I wish I had divorced parents. What an easy game to play. All I’ve got is a deadbeat I haven’t seen since I was in diapers, and let me tell you, he’s not throwing money around to win my favor.

Riley isn’t exactly inclined to agree, but it’s no use trying to correct her. It’s Maya. Anyway, she is excited to start planning and shopping, but they’re going to have to wait a day. She already has plans that afternoon.

Maya: What could possibly be more important than bling?

Riley, pointedly: Friendship.

Maya doesn’t seem convinced, but to each their own. As Riley goes to get ready, Maya shifts back to the blank poster board. She’s much more excited now that their budget has been upped considerably.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora emerges from her room, still clad in cotton shorts and a sweatshirt but at least up and moving. It’s because she’s expecting company, getting to the living room just as there’s a knock at the door.

When she pulls it open, Dylan and Asher are waiting on the other side. They give her enthusiastic smiles when they see her, not even faltering at her less than composed appearance. Asher claims it’s so good to see her, and she says they should feel honored. The only reason she’s letting them stop by is Dylan’s promised cupcakes.

Dylan holds the tupperware out proudly, and Isadora takes it. He starts to warn her that the message he intended didn’t quite translate over, but she’s already prying open the lid. The mistake is glaringly obvious, the cupcakes arranged to spell out “Feel better Isado ♥” with the heart tacked onto the end.

Isadora stares at the cupcakes, then looks up at them for explanation. Dylan eyes them forlornly.

Dylan: I ran out of cupcakes.

Asher, fondly: He wrote the heart first.

Dylan smiles sheepishly. He’s so darn cute, and genuine at that, even Isadora can’t help but crack a smile. She laughs a bit, closing the tupperware container.

Isadora: They’re perfect. Thanks, Dyl.

His smile brightens. Isadora invites them both in, claiming she can at least show them her new room since they made all the effort to come over. Dylan comments how crazy it is that they’re entering a faculty member’s home.

Asher: We’ve been to Riley’s.

Dylan: Come on, Cory’s not like a real faculty. If he evaporated, would anybody notice?

Asher: You know you don’t have to convince me of Cory’s irrelevancy or failures as an educator.

Isadora: Yeah, if he ever does go missing, you’re my first suspect.

Fair enough. Isadora drops the cupcakes on the counter in the kitchen and then guides them back down the hall to her room.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Whereas her physical appearance is easy to forgive, the state of her room is less so. It’s a total disaster area, the products of depression and general lack of fucks to give, though essences of how she originally designed it manage to peek through.

Asher, however, cannot ignore the mess. He stops stock still in the doorway with wide eyes, taking it all in with a subtle expression of horror as Dylan plows in after Isadora, not at all attune to the disarray. Asher takes his entrance more cautiously, careful to step on the few places on the floor where dirty laundry doesn’t reign.

Dylan asks Isadora how her summer has been and how it feels like they haven’t seen her since June. They lightly tread the subject of how she’s recovering from Valerie’s death, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it. When Dylan asks what plans she has for the last week of summer and she basically intends to just waste it away in her room, Dylan gets fired up on her behalf. He claims she can’t waste this time. It’s important! Indispensable! Of great import!

Isadora, to Asher: Word of the day calendar?

Asher: Oh, no, now he’s just started flipping through the thesaurus when I’m reading books. It’s kind of impressive, isn’t it?

Dylan: Dora, you cannot let this time just wither away. We’re in the prime, okay? This is the BOT-R-O-Y-L!

Isadora blinks, lost. She looks to Asher again, checking to make sure that was English, but even he seemed stumped. He shrugs.

Asher: Even I don’t know.

Dylan rolls his eyes. Asher shifts his focus back to the mess, lightly nudging at a sweater on the floor with his Oxfords.

Dylan: BOT-R-O-Y-L. “The beginning of the rest of your life.” It’s happening now, Dor, and you can’t just let it slip away.

Isadora: You’re serious. The last week of summer vacation is supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life?

Dylan: Yes! It is. Because this is the last summer where we’re all going to be here, in this way, exactly as we are now. And everything that comes after it is gonna come fast -- senior year, college choices, graduation. And when all that’s happening, you won’t be focused on it. You won’t be in the now, because you’ll be stuck here thinking about how you didn’t take advantage of this time when you should’ve. And that will just make you miss out on everything else. Like you’ll always be a few steps behind. The future is now!

Isadora: … okay, you’re a weirdo, but you’re strangely making sense.

Asher: [ tuning back into the conversation while he folds a couple of jackets onto her dresser ] He’s good at that.

Point made. Isadora concedes it, but she also says that socializing is hard enough when she’s not… boiling over with emotions she still hasn’t figured out how to process. She knows she should be over it by now -- which Dylan and Asher both quickly refute, stating grief takes different time for everyone -- but it just feels like a lot. It’s easier to just stay in and keep that away from everyone else.

Dylan hears this, but he reiterates that they miss her. She can just try today, come out and do something with the two of them, and if it really feels like too much then no harm no foul. But Dylan feels pretty confident she’ll like it once she’s back out there. He knows she doesn’t feel quite like herself, but...

Dylan: We’d rather have Dora at half-volume than no Dora at all.

This sentiment touches her, but she still doesn’t seem convinced. When she expresses her reluctance to go out again, Asher offers a suggestion of his own.

Asher: Well, if going out feels like too much of a burden, then we could always stay here and clean.

It sounds like a joke, but coming from Asher, the statement is one-hundred percent earnest. Dylan gives Isadora a pointed look.

Isadora: Okay, okay, fine. You got me, anything but that. Do your worst.

Isadora leads the march out, Dylan grinning. He meets Asher in the doorway, fondly pinching his side and leaning closer to whisper.

Dylan: Good thinking on the cleaning thing. Always count on you to come up with a clever strategy.

He gives him a brisk kiss on the cheek, catching up with Isadora. Asher frowns slightly as he follows them out.

Asher: It wasn’t a strategy…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Maya is in fact window shopping downtown, but not with Farkle. She’s on the phone with him instead, keeping up conversation as she peers in boutique windows. It’s clear she’s excited about having some money to spend. Every other line in their conversation, she punctuates with a “ooh, that’s cute…” or hum of excitement.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

The actual subject of their conversation, though, is Isadora. They’ve been her most consistent company this summer, but even they haven’t seen or heard much from her in the past couple weeks and are concerned. Farkle explains he heard through the grapevine that Dylan and Asher were going to try and handle it, to which Maya scrunches her face in disgust.

Maya: Tragic. Well, good luck to Izzy.

Their third wheel out of commission, Farkle attempts to plan something with Maya around his many appointments that day. But she’s distracted, totally transfixed by the possibilities of shopping, that the plans don’t go anywhere. Farkle gives up, flopping down onto his bed as he continues to listen to her marvel about how nice it is to have funds.

Speaking of a place with no shortage of funding…

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Riley is visibly amazed by the campus of Haverford as she makes her way towards the school. Charlie is waiting on the steps for her, jogging down to come greet her. She gives him an enthusiastic hug, immediately launching into questions about the school and its grand accommodations.

She suggests they go inside to take a look around -- he can give her a tour -- but Charlie dodges the request. He says they should walk somewhere else, get some fresh air. It’s school for him, so it’ll be nice to get away from campus for a little bit.

Riley can tell he’s being shifty about it, but she doesn’t question him, letting him lead the way. She glances back over her shoulder at the looming modern institution.

Clearly, Charlie isn’t ready to let his two worlds collide quite yet.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is working the counter when Isadora enters with Dylan and Asher, not displeased to see her. He greets them as cheerfully as one could expect from him, stating it’s good to see Isadora out and about. He asks what they were up to this afternoon.

Isadora: Went to the movies.

Lucas, unimpressed: The movies. You went to see a movie? [ to Dylan and Asher ] That’s your big breakout plan for Dora?

Dylan: Hey, hey, hey, all in due time, young jackasshopper. The week is just getting started.

Lucas: It’s Tuesday.

Dylan, unfazed: The week is basically just getting started. You’ve got to ease into these sorts of things. [ patting Isadora’s shoulders ] We’ll go grab a seat.

Dylan and Asher go to do just that, giving Lucas and Isadora the chance to catch up one-on-one. Lucas asks her how she’s taking being back out in the world, and she admits that Dylan is right. Something gradual like a movie was just what she needed to start, especially since the movie theater is her happy place.

Lucas: So you’re feeling good about the rest of the week?

Isadora: Oh, no, terrified. But less because of crushing social anxiety and more because of the unpredictable whimsy of Dylan Orlando.

Lucas: So more like normal, then.

Isadora: Maybe so.

Her banter is seemingly getting back in shape too. Lucas smiles lightly, telling her sincerely that he’s glad she’s out and about again. She returns the smile, weak but genuine, and saunters off to go join Dylan and Asher at a table.

Jack and Eric come through the door, shifting Lucas’s demeanor from soft to grumpy teenager in an instant. He asks what the hell they’re both doing there, showing up at his place of work unannounced. Can’t they just leave him be? Isn’t seeing him at school enough? Jack raises his eyebrows, torn between amusement and affront.

Jack: Boy, you don’t own Chubbies.

Lucas: Not yet…

Eric: [ off Jack’s eye roll, with a smile ] We’re just picking up a lunch order. We didn’t come here to spy on you.

Lucas doesn’t seem convinced, but he takes their receipt and goes to retrieve the order anyway. Eric and Jack take a look around the diner as they wait, casually waving to the assorted Adams students who greet (or gape at) them from their spots hanging out.

Jack comments that it’s good to see Isadora out, facing away from them in her booth with Dylan and Asher. He knows that Eric was worried about her. Eric claims he’s always worried about her, but he supposes that is what parenthood is supposed to be like. Just odd, considering he skipped all the other stuff before teenagedom.

Well, Jack thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. So they both had somewhat unconventional life paths… so what? Nothing wrong with that. Eric agrees, pausing before venturing the topic again of other ways they might be unconventional. Their dynamic, whatever it is… certainly not exactly a standard work relationship. But, then, no fairytale romance either. Jack agrees, vaguely, not disagreeing with the assessment that it’s a romance but not exactly saying what they are either.

He turns back to look over his shoulder towards the counter, waiting for Lucas. Eric bounces on the balls of his feet, looking at Jack, trying to find how to make him say what he wants to hear.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “What A Man Gotta Do” as performed by the Jonas Brothers || Performed by Eric Matthews (feat. Jack Hunter)

The energetic bass line floats in as Eric continues to look at Jack, launching into the song as he contemplates their relationship. While the specifics of their dynamic are unclear, there’s no question that Eric knows how he feels about Jack and what he wants from their relationship.

The first chunk of the song takes place within Chubbies, other patrons getting into the number. Jack is a participant but more in the reluctant muse variety, playing along with a bashful smirk but letting Eric do most of the performing. The dancing takes on a kind of sockhop ‘50s energy, bouncy and full of spunk.

INT. AAA - DAY

Throughout the second verse and chorus, we’re back at AAA, Eric continuing the serenade while he and Jack walk through various parts of the school doing their inspection. In the halls, in the auditorium, up on the catwalk, doesn’t matter -- Jack has his undivided attention, but the work at hand not so much.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

They conclude their walkabout in the cafeteria, Eric hopping onto the tables and really digging into his ballad. Jack chides at him and pulls him down off the tables -- health and safety hazard, come on! -- but that’s an excuse for Eric to drag him into the dance. The two of them do a little jig of their own across the cafeteria…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Intercut with the number still going on at Chubbies. The dancing is much more impressive from the younger, more skilled cast members in the diner, doing lifts and flips and such, but Jack and Eric have no trouble maintaining the center of attention.

As the song comes to an end, they resume their former place at the counter before the number began. They settle back into nonchalance, as if the song never happened, the diner patrons back milling about and in their respective booths. Being the first performance in the space, it proves that Chubbies acts as sort of a liminal performance space -- not everything that occurs in the space is necessarily reality, when it comes to singing and dancing.

And that’s for the best, at least for Lucas. He returns moments later, spared the imaginary musical theatrics, and hands over their order. Jack hands over a few bills, tipping him nicely.

Lucas, pridefully: I don’t want this.

Jack: Yes, you do.

Eric: Consider it a down payment for dinner tomorrow.

Well, with that logic… fine. Lucas makes a face and pockets the money, dropping one of the bills in the jar for the cooks. Suffice to say, Lucas’s relationship with money -- and who’s giving it to him -- is complicated at best.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

Riley and Charlie have found a place to settle, a picnic table in the beautiful and scenic Central Park. He’s catching her up on how Haverford is going, selling it a little too keenly to be entirely genuine. He quickly shifts the focus off him, asking how everyone is doing in their last week of summer before classes start at AAA.

Riley gives him the short version of how everyone is doing, from Farkle’s medical stuff to Isadora’s grieving to her and Lucas’s slight trouble yesterday morning.

Charlie: Oh, so that’s why you had time to come hang out with me…

She glares at him, kicking him playfully. He grins, and she tells him that it’s already weird without him being on the same schedule as them. It’s going to be odd, not having him there. She reaches out, touching his hand.

Riley: We miss you.

Charlie: … I miss you guys, too.

Still, he claims it’s going to be okay. How things are is for the best. Sure, Riley says… and anyway, just because he’s at a new school doesn’t mean he has to disappear from their lives. He can still see them, he’s still part of their family. In fact, he should come see West Side Story this Saturday.

This, Charlie is less able to gloss over with a smile. He falters, murmuring that he doesn’t know if that’s the best idea. Riley frowns, not allowing him to brush her off.

Riley: Charlie. [ waiting for him to meet her eyes ] Have you gone to see it at all? It’s a really good production.

Charlie: Yeah, I know --

Riley: I know that you and Zay aren’t… I know things are off because of how you… how things ended last year. I know you’re not how you were, but you’re still… I mean, you’re still friends, aren’t you? I think he would want you to be there. To just ghost --

Charlie: Okay, okay! Riley, you can ease off. I’ll… I’ll think about it.

Not a guarantee, but better than nothing. Riley lets it go, for now.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is meeting with his therapist, DR. MICHELLE HAN. They discuss the phenomenal progress he’s made in just the last few months, and how while there’s still plenty of work to go, it’s good that his suicidal ideation doesn’t seem to have made a comeback.

Farkle: Yeah, I think a good diet of making jokes about it whenever possible keeps it in check. Self-prescribed.

Dr. Han is used to his quips, so she merely smiles as she writes off the comment. They swap to discussing the progress of his treatment plans, and that the next stage is upping the dosage of the current antidepressant he’s on. Ideally, this should more regulate his mood and keep him from having those dips that he’s suffered from throughout the summer.

Farkle bluntly comments there’s nothing else to do but try, and though it’s said flatly, Dr. Han agrees. She reminds him that mental health is an imperfect, trial-by-error process, and they’ll take each development as it comes. Farkle nods, committed to it in spite of his pithy commentary and jokes.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric emerge from the front office, disappointed but not surprised to see that it’s dark outside. Their ability to stay well past a normal hour is truly astounding… but in this case, it makes sense. They both want Adams to be in the best shape it can possibly be, so the work is worth it.

After their thorough examination and enumeration of everything they need to do today, though, they’re on the right track. For their own mental well-being, Eric suggests they should do their best the next few days to get out of there before nightfall. If that means scheduling other things -- like dinners with the kiddos, for instance -- then so be it. Anything to get them out of there.

Jack agrees as they head towards the doors, pointing out they should make a pact then and there not to come in on the weekend. They will do their work during this week, as your average employee would, and then they will put up the healthy wall of distance. No coming in on Saturday or Sunday to do last-minute tidying or search for more problems to solve. They are going to be strong, independent men away from their disaster school.

Eric can fancy that. The two of them shake on it, a bit cheeky, before they push out the doors and into the humid August evening.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - STUDENT LOUNGE - DAY

The next morning, Charlie gets more formally introduced to some of his fellow Haverford classmates when he checks out the senior student lounge. This includes BILLY ROSS (18), EVAN SCOTT (17), and DWIGHT “DWEEZIL” HOWARD (16), whom everyone affectionately refers to as Dweezil.

They’re all cute, charming, and well-groomed. Billy carries some of the signature aloof coolness of Zay or Nigel, while Dweezil could be a distant cousin of Dylan, only blonde and far more reserved. Evan is the most similar to Charlie himself, soft-spoken but pleasant and clever.

For what it’s worth, they’re nice, too. They show genuine interest in getting to know Charlie, asking him about what he likes about Haverford so far and what he misses about Adams. Billy seems particularly interested in Adams, wanting to know what their main rival is like within the stone walls. Charlie ducks talking about AAA, instead turning the conversation back to them.

Evan says that a bunch of them are going to hang out at Dweezil’s place after school today, and Charlie should definitely come. He thanks them for the offer, and is totally interested, but actually today won’t work. He already has plans.

Billy: Ooh, plans. You got someone we might wanna know about, Charlie?

Dweezil: I saw you talking to that brunette before lunch yesterday. She’s cute.

Ooh, a girl. Charlie laughs awkwardly, stating it’s not like that. The friend, or the person he has to see today. But it’s important, something he can’t miss.

Oh, well. Another time then. Charlie lets the conversation shift off of him, happy to be included but comfortably in the background again.

INT. SHOPPING MALL - DAY

Maya and Riley are out shopping, walking the spacious atrium of a mall out in the suburbs outside the city. Maya comments they would’ve had more fun walking 5th Avenue.

Riley: Yeah, okay, we’re not broke, but we’re not working with that much money.

Besides, as she claims, there’s more variety and flexibility at a mall like this. More options, and easily accessible. They’ll be able to find everything they need.

That, Maya can second. She pauses outside a cute boutique with chic clothes in the window, claiming that if they spend wisely, they can get more than just new room decor. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some new threads before the school year starts?

Riley hesitantly agrees, but she knows they have to be cautious with their funds. She tries to find a way to trick Maya out of her interest, offering up a challenge. Sure, they can shop for clothes too -- but then both of them get to pick an outfit for the other person. And the other has to wear it on the first day of school, no arguments.

Riley’s mistake was forgetting that Maya loves a juicy challenge. She eagerly accepts, stating she is going to find the perfect thing for Riley to wear on the first day as she flurries into the store. Riley grimaces, chasing after her.

Maya: You’re so on, Matthews. Let’s shop.

Riley, nervously: Wait, okay, maybe let’s set some ground rules --

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Isadora is trailing behind Dylan and Asher as they make their way through AAA’s neighborhood, asking them where the hell they’re headed. Dylan deftly dodges her question with vague non-answers, to the amusement of Asher and chagrin of Isadora.

Dylan: Are any of us really headed anywhere? Are we not, at the end of the day, all headed to the same thing?

Isadora: Thanks, Dyl Pickle. That’s what the girl with the dead mom wants to hear.

Dylan: Oh, no no, you’re mistaken. I’ll never die.

Bewildering, but classically, Dylan offers no elaboration on that bold comment. He grins wider as he spots what he’s looking for, arriving in an outdoor pavilion area and greeting some additional members to their party.

It’s the techie crew, back in action. JADE BEAMON, NATE MARTINEZ, JEFF MONROE, and DAVE WILLIAMS are waiting around for them, happily greeting Isadora when they see her approaching with Dylan and Asher. They claim it’s great to see her, and Isadora accepts a gentle hug from Jade.

Isadora: You’re not all just waiting around here for me, are you?

Nate: Uh, yeah. That’s what Dylan told us to do.

Jeff: We’re just happy to see you. And it’s nice to get the whole gang back together before we’re back in that performance prison for one more year.

Dave: Well, not Lucas.

Jade: No, of course not. Because --

All, mockingly: “He has to work.”

Though she’s still uncertain, and doesn’t know if their dynamic is going to quite be the same, Isadora is already smiling again. The energy of the techie crew, her original crew, is infectious, and it’s good to be around them again. She turns the question to Dylan and Asher, asking if they thought this would be some magical serotonin cure-all.

Dylan: Maybe. Is it working?

Asher: We wanted to show you that even when you disappear for a while, your crew is going to be here when you’re ready to reemerge. You’re not going back into the jungle alone.

Jeff: Bet.

Isadora: Even after last year? Everything wasn’t exactly picture perfect before Hurricane Val wiped everything else off my mental map.

Jade: I mean, no, things aren’t going to be exactly the same, but that doesn’t mean we’re gone for good.

Dave: Once a techie, always a techie.

And that’s exactly the message Dylan wanted to be clear. And in case it wasn’t, well, there’s an easy way to remedy that.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jet Song” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Senior Techies

[ Lyrics specific to characters. Follow along here! ]

Dylan takes the Riff lead, kicking off the song with enthusiasm. Every “Jet” is smoothly replaced with “Tech.” When he refers to having “brothers around,” he loops an arm around Jeff and Nate and pulls them close in a hug. Asher takes over from there, the two of them passing the first verse back and forth.

Then the crew of them take off, marching through the pavilion as a group. While the orchestra vamps Dylan leads the group with Isadora, explaining his plan that they’re all going to go to Zay’s final performance Saturday night. Jade snorts at the idea that Lucas would go anywhere, let alone a theater; Nate points out that Zay is a performer, and they’ve never especially stepped up to support performers.

Dylan: Nate, the era of divisions is past. There’s no techies, no performers. Just senior A class, baby!

Dave: Great, daddio.

Asher: So listen -- [ as the group huddles ] Everybody dress up sweet and sharp. Meet me, Isa, and Dyl at the theater before 7. And walk tall!

Jeff: We always walk tall!

Jade: We’re techs!

Nate: The greatest!

From there, the techie tots take over, taking to the streets and jumping around together. Jeff and Nate are carrying most of the vocals, but as an ensemble, they all sound pretty decent. Thankfully, the Jets weren’t the most perfectly harmonious performers either. Yeah!

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Charlie is seated alone at a table on the patio, at an unfamiliar coffee shop, tapping his fingers nervously against the tabletop. The rhythm is intrinsic, like a waltz, counts of three over and over to keep him grounded while he waits for his expected company. The lemonade he ordered sits untouched in front of him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait much longer. His eyes widen when he spots her, his internal metronome freezing on the downbeat.

BRIDGETTE GARDNER (21). She’s thin and waifish, pretty like her siblings with thick dark hair and attractive bone structure. But that’s where the resemblance stops, as her demeanor is nowhere near as palatable and pleasant as her brother. She’s dressed in dark hues, light crocheted cardigan hanging down around her elbows and exposing her shoulders under her black tank top. Her eyeliner is bold around her bright blue eyes, icy and sharp and heavy with something. Like knowledge, like she already knows everything there is to know, has seen all the truth that there is to see.

To Charlie, though, she’s just his big sister. The big sister he hasn’t seen in years, scrubbed out of his family history like an ink stain.

He rises to his feet as she hesitates, slowing her approach. Finally, they’re in front of one another, not sure what to say. Not smiling—Charlie in shock, Bridgette out of defensive precaution.

Then, Charlie moves, pulling her into an embrace without a word. He lets out a sigh, holding her tighter. Saying all the soft, vulnerable things without saying anything at all.

Bridgette tenses, then slowly lifts her arms to return the hug.

INT. ANIMAL SHELTER - DAY

Riley and Lucas are working side-by-side at the shelter, both clad in their dark green volunteer shirts. They’re cleaning out cat cages and feeding them as they go, moving with precision that indicates they’ve done this routine before. Volunteering there together isn’t a new thing for them.

As charitable as that is, Lucas can’t help but point out it doesn’t exactly abide by Cory’s demands. In fact, they’ve seen an awful lot of each other for two people who are forbidden from interacting for the week.

Riley: I don’t see why the good animals of Manhattan should have to suffer for my misdeeds. It would be irresponsible, nay, an injustice, if I were to shirk my volunteer duties simply because we happen to work shifts at the same time.

Lucas: Someone is getting real good at finding loopholes. [ granting her a smirk ] I’m so proud.

Riley beams, shrugging her shoulders flirtatiously. She goes on to tell him about how redecorating is going, explaining the challenge she and Maya made about getting to dress the other for the first day. Lucas cringes, though whether it’s because of Maya or because he’s cleaning a litterbox isn’t totally clear.

Lucas: I like you, Riley, but I think I’ll have to cut my eyes out if you show up to school looking like a mini-Maya. Isadora last year was terrorizing enough.

Riley: [ with an eye roll ] We’re not dressing like each other, we’re just picking for each other. Forces us to try something new, embrace a little change. Might as well start the year that way, since senior year is guaranteed to have a lot of it.

Yeah, to that point… Riley starts to ask if Lucas has thought at all about what his college application plans are yet. She knows she wants to apply to Barnard, a local all-women highly-ranked liberal arts college. And she’s thinking about performing programs, but then maybe not. Lucas seems hesitant to answer, but he’s saved by a VET TECH employee poking her head out from the back room.

Vet Tech: Lucas, you got a minute to give us a hand? Lil’ Nat needs shots again, and you’re the only one who can get her to sit still long enough without traumatizing the poor thing.

Lucas: Yeah, sure. I’m just about finished here.

Vet Tech: Awesome. We’re just in the back when you’re ready. [ to Riley ] I tell you, your friend’s got the magic touch.

Riley: Oh, believe me, I’m very aware.

Lucas cuts Riley a look, which she matches with an innocent smile. Once the tech is gone, Riley watches Lucas scoop up the cat whose cage he was cleaning and lock it back up properly.

Riley: You know, seems like you’ve got a thing for this. Working with animals. Maybe like… a talent?

Lucas brushes her off, especially the teasing nature of discussing “talent” when they know he has none, but Riley isn’t actually kidding. She watches him thoughtfully as he jogs to the back room, only turning her attention back to the task at hand when the cat in the cage she’s tending to headbutts her affectionately.

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Bridgette is now seated opposite Charlie, some of the ice broken between them. She’s finishing up explaining why their reunion had to wait so long when he reached out in June and it’s now almost September — she was abroad in Europe.

Bridgette: Take it from me, everyone should travel somewhere new at least once. Get a new perspective, see something they’ve never seen before. Illuminating, really.

Charlie pauses trying to process her actually being there, what she’s like now versus how he remembers her, to ask the obvious question — how did she afford to do that? There’s no way she had the money on her own after whatever happened with mom and dad.

Bridgette: Family outcast rule number 1. Make rich friends.

And, as she goes on to explain, their great aunt Mary helped fund her voyage. This is shocking to Charlie, as she’s as devout as Eleanor if not more, but Bridgette explains that’s exactly why she did it.

Bridgette: I think she saw it like the ultimate good deed, like missionary work at home. Like if she helped me go abroad, explore something new, the journey would take me straight to Jesus and I’d be born again. Then I’d come crying back to her, so grateful, so happy I’d found the Lord again and that she helped me achieve it. And I’d come back home, we’d be a perfect happy Gardner unit again, and she would get all the sainthood credit of bringing our devious defective Bridgette back from Satan’s fiery hold. [ a beat ] Obviously, that didn’t happen, but I ate a lot of hellishly good food.

It takes some adjusting, hearing someone from his family speak so uncharacteristically heathen-like. Zay, sure, but a Gardner? Charlie uses the opportunity to broach the topic of their family and her banishment, trying to get to the bottom of what happened.

Bridgette: It’s okay, Chuckles. You can ask me direct. Neither of us are going to burn up in hellfire. I cast a protective charm over us when I sat down.

[ Charlie blinks, uncertain. Bridgette gives him a look. ]

Bridgette: That was a joke. Come on, I’m just the exile, not back from the dead. You can laugh a little bit, buddy.

Charlie: Sorry. Sorry, it’s just, um… a lot. And you’re… it’s just been…

Bridgette: I know. Been a while since I’ve seen you, too, you know. Last I remember, you were two inches shorter with an even worse haircut. Might’ve still had braces too, though maybe it’s just all running together.

Comment about his hair aside, Charlie asks again what the heck even happened. Bridgette is surprised Eleanor never told them, as she thought she would’ve used it as a lesson. Made a big example, or whatever. Charlie claims the mystery and finality of her disappearance was deterrent enough, from any and all things. Maybe vagueness was more effective after all. Bridgette shakes her head, crossing her arms and taking a moment before meeting his eyes.

Bridgette: You really wanna know what I did? Brace yourself, it’s downright damning. [ bluntly ] I had sex.

Charlie stares at her, waiting for more. There isn’t. Bridgtte senses his uncertainty.

Bridgette: That’s right. I’m a dirty little sinner, because I had sex before marriage. Like damn Eve in the garden of Eden, just too curious with my devilish womanhood. But that wasn’t even my mistake, you know. I could’ve done it, and done it as much as I wanted, and gotten away with it. Mom and dad are intimidating, but they’re not all-knowing. They would’ve never known any better. No, my fatal error was telling mom the truth. I thought, okay, I did this, but mom loves me. She’ll help me out of it, figure out how to turn those feelings off, or at least set me up so that I could explore safely. I think that’s what I wanted, really, but I should’ve known that would never be an option. I didn’t get that far, anyway.

As she recounts it, their discussion after her confession didn’t last long. Eleanor was disappointed, disgusted even, and the only way she would “help” her would be to take her out of college and ship her off to Bible college. There, she could be under watchful eyes, and work through prayer and therapies toward rehabilitation with God. Bridgette said fuck that, and Eleanor claimed if she wasn’t going to fix it, she wouldn’t do it under their roof. So, she left.

Charlie shakes his head, struggling to grapple with it all. He supposes he knew, to some degree, always figured what must’ve happened. But it’s hard to reconcile, to work through, when he still knows his mother as loving and supportive and wanting the best for him. Conditionally, maybe, but that’s not nothing.

But he thanks Bridgette for sharing the truth with him. And for showing up at all when he reached out. She didn’t have to do that — he did nothing to help her either, so she could’ve easily just ignored him and kept the embargo going. She had every right.

Bridgette: Charlie, it’s not your job to show up for me. Least of all when you didn’t even know. You’re my little brother, not a saint.

[ Charlie lets that sink in. Bridgette shrugs, slouching more comfortably now that her secrets are out. ]

Bridgette: Besides, I figured if you were reaching out to me, there had to be a reason. You wouldn’t be sneaking around trying to connect with me if there weren’t some motivation pushing you to it.

Charlie: Couldn’t it just be brotherly love?

Bridgette: It could. But I’m not naive enough to believe it’s that simple.

They hold eye contact, Bridgette arching an eyebrow. Her icy eyes see right through him. So?

Charlie takes a deep breath, looking down at the table. He struggles through articulating that she’s not the only one with secrets, that he needed to see that even after her exodus she was still surviving. To see that there’s a life beyond their perfect house, just in case, because he’s more and more aware of the risk.

Charlie: I’m never going to be the ideal son mom and dad want me to be. I can’t be. I’m not going to be the honorable man with the beautiful wife and perfect kids and radiant sense of blessed peace. I’m not going to have any of that. And I tried, I mean, I thought for so long maybe I could. I just hadn’t unlocked it, hadn’t figured out what was missing, but I know that’s not how it works now. I know who I am, and it’s not that. I’m never going to have a beautiful wife.

[ Bridgette waits patiently. Charlie chokes on the thought and clears his throat, centering himself before he tries again. He meets her eyes. ]

Charlie: I’m gay. I don’t like… I couldn’t… [ sighing ] I’m gay.

The sentiment hangs in the air between them, Charlie’s first intentional coming out. Bridgette doesn’t seem at all surprised, or affected, maintaining her calm demeanor.

Bridgette: Okay. Good for you, Charlie. Thanks for telling me.

Not nearly as dramatic as he imagined. But maybe it’s better that way. Charlie nods, catching his breath. Bridgette goes on to point out that sinning aside, he’s already smarter than she was as he clearly has not told their parents. As long as he doesn’t do that, then he’ll be fine, at least as long as he can handle the guilt.

Bridgette: And who knows? Maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe mom will be like one of those Catholics who takes pity on the gays, those poor sinners who can’t help themselves. So long as you don’t do something truly sinful and unforgivable, you know, like sex before marriage —

Charlie grimaces and then whines, dropping his head on his arms on the tabletop. Bridgette pauses, clocking his dramatic reaction, then bursts into laughter. Oh, Chuckles, Chuckles, Chuckles…

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle and Jennifer return from another day of doctoring, the former obviously exhausted. EZRA MINKUS rushes out to greet him with a hug, telling him he missed him all day.

STUART MINKUS emerges from his back office as well, greeting them cheerfully and asking how everything went. Jennifer lauds Farkle’s improvement according to the doctors, and then the both of them begin asking Farkle a bunch of questions while Ezra barrels him with details about his day. How is he feeling? What does he feel like for dinner — they could order his favorite? Is he able to play now that he’s not sick? Frankly, Farkle has had enough prodding for a lifetime, mental or otherwise.

Farkle, waspish: What I’m feeling is that I would like five minutes of a little peace and quiet! Alone!

He marches out of the room, retreating to his room and slamming the door. Ezra asks if he made Farkle mad, but Stuart assures him it wasn’t his fault. They’re all understanding. It’s just… tough right now.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle reclines against his door, releasing a sigh. Solitude is nice, and needed, but it doesn’t make him feel all that better. He doesn’t like feeling so moody, snapping at his family, being on knife’s edge. He misses when things were normal, or at least, he thought they were. Recovery is crucial, but he didn’t expect it to be so damn exhausting.

He collapses onto his bed with a flop, the sonic pop beat dropping just as he does…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “In My Bed” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle starts the performance sideways on his bed, the camera moving in odd angles with him as he dramatically rolls around in theatrics. He also moves around his room and plays with the scenery, leaning into the melodramatic anguish yet skillfully contrasted with the somewhat flat delivery of the vocals.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICES - DAY

The other part of the number is split in and out of doctor’s offices, Farkle basically floating through the scenery as different physicians and experts poke and prod and question him. He lets it all happen without comment, like a specimen under a microscope, staring blankly at the camera to convey his exhaustion while he sings.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Then, he concludes the song back in his room, flopping backwards onto his bed on the last “I’m still in my bed.”

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

As promised, Jack and Eric are having dinner with Lucas and Isadora, the teens opposite them in a booth. Though the gathering is far from conventional — principal, counselor, adoptee, and delinquent — the dynamic amongst them is comfortable and casual. It’s clear they’ve done this multiple times before.

Isadora asks Jack and Eric how the inspection is going, if they think they’ll have to do a lot of work before the school year starts. Lucas asks for elaboration, like if they’ve learned anything about the hack coming into admin or what his game is. Jack cautions against writing the new colleague off as a hack from the get-go, to which Lucas rolls his eyes. Eric assures them they’ve got everything under control, and he’s feeling confident things will go off swimmingly.

Lucas, flatly: Someone should be.

He swipes a fry off Isadora’s plate, causing her to elbow him in the side. He’s got his own food, doesn’t he? Jackass. Lucas grins, chewing his stolen French fry pointedly. Eric watches them in amusement, Jack commenting that’s as good a time as any to grab the check. He gets up to go pay, leaving Eric to temper Lucas and Isadora’s sibling-like bickering.

As Jack pays the bill, the WAITRESS working the register casts a glance towards their unusual table. Though, to her, it clearly doesn’t seem so odd. She smiles.

Waitress: Cute family.

Jack opens his mouth to correct her, but something stops him. Instead he glances at them, then back to her, retrieving his credit card.

Jack: Thank you.

She tells him he’s good to go. As Jack puts his card back into his wallet, he watches his “family” far afar, fondness written all over his face.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

The room is in the midst of a makeover, Riley and Maya moving things around while they add their new decor to the space. It’s already got a little more pizazz, but still has a ways to go.

Maya is doing more directing than helping, distracted by their clothes haul and eager to get to trying stuff on. Riley drags her away from the bags, reminding her that once they get their room in shape, then they can see what torture they have in store for each other.

Maya: Ye of little faith…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is bussing a vacated table when Farkle hurricanes through the doors in a huff. It’s clear he’s frazzled, fidgety as he spots Lucas.

Farkle: You’re here.

Lucas, bluntly: Yeah. I work here.

Farkle: Oh, right. Weird.

Lucas: Sure, I’m the weird one…

Lucas starts heading back behind the counter with the bin of dishes, Farkle trailing along behind him. He asks if Riley is here, to which Lucas tells him he can look around and answer that for himself.

That’s obviously not what Farkle wants to hear. He runs a hand through his hair, smacking a hand down on the countertop.

Farkle: I swear, I’m losing my mind. Not that I had much of one to begin with, but if I have to spend one more day in a doctor’s office or in that stupid penthouse suite I really think I might kill someone.

Lucas just looks at him, slightly judgmental, clearly wondering why the hell he has to be the one stuck listening to this tirade. But Farkle is not deterred, continuing on about how he’s sick of being monitored and babied and so heavily in control it’s like he’s spiraling out of it in spite. It’s suffocating, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fix it when the stuff that fixes it is what is making him insane. He feels crazy. He feels absolutely deranged. After a certain amount of melodrama, Lucas snaps.

Lucas: Oh my God, enough!

He walks away from the counter, his disappearance just enough to stun Farkle into silence. He reappears a few moments later though, peeling off his apron and hanging it behind the counter. He heads towards the door, gesturing brusquely for Farkle to follow.

Lucas: Come on, move it. Let’s go.

Farkle: What? Where are we going?

Lucas stops, meeting his eyes with a sharp glare. It’s not the least bit encouraging.

Lucas, shortly: We’re fixing it.

Then he pushes out the door, not waiting up. Scary prospects, and Lucas has never been a friend to Farkle. But his curiosity is piqued, it’s a distraction from the… everything else, and well, he’s always had a little bit of a fear kink.

Farkle jogs out after him.

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Dylan and Isadora are making their way down the street, Isadora once again unsure where they’re going. She also asks where Asher is, as it’s just the two of them that afternoon. Dylan explains that he got Riley to pull a favor for him with Zay, but doesn’t elaborate. He’ll catch up with them later. Isadora gets distracted before she can question further, as they arrive at their destination.

The local skate park. Bustling with teens on a Friday afternoon, full of life and energy. It’s clearly Dylan’s turf, a few other skaters shouting greetings at him that he returns with a wave.

Isadora, on the other hand, is not enthused. She’s like oh no way and starts to turn around but Dylan pulls her back, encouraging her to just give it a try. She points out that she has never skated in her life, but he claims that doesn’t matter. As he goes on to say, when he first started out he didn’t know what he was doing either. But it’s freeing, it clears his mind, and she has to admit the two of them have more in common mentally than one would think at first glance.

Dylan: When I started skating, I fell all the time. Got banged up and bruised and scraped, even in places I didn’t know could scrape.

Isadora: Oh, nice. Very encouraging, thank you.

Dylan: But I got back up. Every time. Right now, you’ve been knocked down and banged up and scraped. [ holding out his board ] It’s time to get back up.

He holds her gaze, putting the ball in her court. Isadora hesitates, looking at the board… then takes it with a sigh.

Isadora: Might as well try.

Dylan grins and bounces on his feet, eagerly finding a place for them to practice. He helps her get on the board and then lets her use him as a way to steady herself, until slowly they start moving in one direction. Just when it seems like she’s got the gist, and Dylan lets her go, she speeds up a bit… and wipes out, unable to stop and falling off the board as it keeps going and rams into the chain-link fence.

Dylan: Oh, yikes --

Dylan jogs over, asking if she’s okay. But she’s merely laughing, falling onto her back and cackling uncontrollably. Once she manages to calm to a giggle, she accepts his help to climb back to her feet. She seems energized for the first time all week, expression bright.

Isadora: Let’s try again.

Dylan beams, nodding. The two of them jog to grab the skateboard.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay pushes open the door from the hall, entering with Asher following tentatively behind him. He has the same awe as Yindra and Nigel as he gets to walk around a real production, though his is also sprinkled with his usual amount of nerves.

Asher: Again, if this is a bother, any burden at all, you really don’t have to show me --

Zay: Well, you’re already here so. [ patting his shoulder ] Let’s enjoy it, yeah?

Clearly, Zay has experience dealing with people riddled with anxiety. Still, it works, Asher nodding and following him onto the stage. Zay smiles, telling him he’ll really want to see this, before showing him the full set for the show. Mainly, he thinks the movable set piece that has the fire escape on it is the coolest. Asher marvels at it as Zay climbs around, pulling himself up to sit on the base of the metal.

Asher: Seems sturdy. Good structural design. It would be nice if we could figure out that balance at Triple A -- we usually have to sacrifice style for functionality.

Zay: I wouldn’t call your sets unstylish, Garcia. But anyway, still have one more year to try. And it would probably help if we could have a set that didn’t get vandalized three-fourths into our production.

Touché. Asher continues to walk around the set pieces, getting a good look. Zay states that he likes hanging out on the fire escape since he doesn’t get to spend much time on it during the show -- it’s reserved for Tony and Maria. But off the clock, well, he can do whatever he wants. Just as he’s declaring this independent take, his director steps onto the stage with the stage manager, discussing the show.

Zay hops down from the set quickly, the director cheerfully greeting him but asking what he’s doing there so early. He doesn’t have call time for another couple hours. He coolly explains that he’s showing a friend around, finding Asher hiding behind the set piece and lightly yanking him out to come introduce himself. Asher’s instinct to be professional and polite takes over, making a good impression as he shakes her hand.

Zay: If you’re looking for a production designer in a couple years, look no further. Asher has been creating killer sets and designs for our productions at Adams for four years.

Asher: Oh, well, I don’t know if --

Zay: It’s true. I showed you those photos from our production of Les Mis? This guy, right here.

The director seems suitably impressed, commending Asher for his eye. Asher awkwardly brushes it off, overwhelmed by the praise, claiming it was just as much the effort of his fellow technicians to bring it to life that pulled it off. The director is pleased by that humble reaction, stating it was a pleasant surprise to meet him and telling Zay she’ll see him later before sauntering off with the manager.

Zay: Just got you your first post-grad job, I bet. You’re welcome.

Asher shakes his head. He asks how Zay like… does that all the time, just confidently sells himself with no reservations. Doesn’t he feel weird, bragging like that?

Zay: Well, it’s not bragging when it’s true. I’d argue it’s equally bad to sell yourself so short no one ever even knows you’re there.

Asher: I guess that’s true.

Zay: And why shouldn’t we sell ourselves? Isn’t this the time to do so? Especially when we have the talent, when we deserve it? We’ve got one more year in school, and then after that it’s a whole new world. I don’t know about you, but I’m going in strong.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “ROYL” as performed by Chloe x Halle || Performed by Zay Babineaux, Asher Garcia, Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Isadora De La Cruz, and Dylan Orlando

Zay leads us into the boppy fun pop track, highlighting the theme for the episode as well as the season as a whole. It’s time to live their lives, spread their wings and fly, and if that includes being a little glamorous and daring, then so be it!

He manages to pull Asher into it within the first verse, the two of them spending the rest of the number strutting through the backstage areas and chewing up the scenery. Though they’re not the only two working the number…

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Dylan and Isadora have their time to jam, boasting the coolest setting as their backdrop. They harmonize and goof off while skaters do impressive tricks around them. Talk about living on the edge and spreading your wings!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

And Riley and Maya share the sequence as well, grooving and vocalizing while decorating the room. It makes great strides over the course of the song, both of them collapsing onto their beds with a flourish when they’re done.

Just as an explosive goes off --

EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY

The boom is a firework, Lucas back to his old tricks of setting off explosives. Only this time, it’s a charitable act, as he’s showing Farkle how to do it in an effort to relieve some of his tightly wound stress. It seems to be working, Farkle laughing hysterically as they set another off and let it go zooming off into the sky. He says this is the best afternoon he’s had in weeks.

Lucas: That’s pathetic. But you’re welcome. Just… don’t tell Riley.

Legal? Questionable. But fun? Yes. And seemingly exactly what Farkle needed. He’s got new life in him now, looking towards Lucas as he grabs another bottle rocket and starts to expertly set it up. When he rises to his feet, Farkle speaks.

Farkle: I misjudged you.

The conversation takes on a slightly serious tone, Farkle explaining that he spent so much time deriding Lucas and judging him and purposefully trying to drive him crazy when he honestly didn’t even really know him. And some of the stuff he did to him, the way he behaved… it wasn’t right. So he hopes, like he said last year, that they can move past it.

Lucas is obviously a bit uncomfortable with the vulnerability, but not opposed to the idea of a truce. He avoids eye contact, shrugging.

Lucas: Well, it’s not like I was an angel towards you either… [ glancing at him ] Guess we can call it even.

Sounds good to Farkle. He nods, agreeing. Then Lucas gives him the lighter to do the honors, Farkle dropping down excitedly and flicking on the flame. As he lights the next fuse…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya is looking not quite like a firecracker, good-looking as always but out of her element in the outfit Riley chose for her. She’s sporting a sleek cotton turtleneck and tight-fitting gold plaid pants that cinch at her waist. She looks good, it’s just not what she would’ve envisioned. She frowns slightly as she nitpicks at her reflection, telling Riley to hurry up in the restroom. She wants to see her grand vision in action.

And see it she does. Riley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a black Bardot dress with an open back and exposed skin on her torso where the chest of the dress cinches into a delicate bow. Maya has paired the look with tie-up knee-high boots. To be blunt, she looks hot as hell, but it’s way bolder than Riley would ever be on her own. She doesn’t quite know how to carry herself in it, making herself smaller as she comes to stand in front of the full-length mirror with Maya.

Maya, whistling: Now that’s what I’m talking about, Riles. Bang bang.

Riley: I don’t know. It feels a little… I mean, don’t you think --

Maya: What I think is that if you carry yourself properly, you’ll look slamming.

She makes subtle adjustments to Riley’s posture in the mirror -- standing up straight, lifting her chin, taking a power stance rather than trying to remain unassuming. And to her credit, Maya is right. Riley does look awesome, especially when she holds herself the way she should. And it still feels like her, too, somehow. Just Riley Matthews with the volume turned up. Maya grins at their reflection, proud of her work.

Maya: You’ve got this in you all the time -- every woman does. It’s part of our natural superior power. Maybe it’s time to let this you take control for a while.

Maybe Maya, scarily, has a point… and she does look damn good…

Maya: You know, rather than being a doormat who defers to everyone else all the time. Just an idea. Especially when you look hot!

Okay, less encouraging. Riley shoots her a glare at that comment, but even when Maya walks away her point remains. Riley contemplates, looking at her empowered reflection.

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Asher arrives at the skate park, finding Isadora sitting on the concrete benches. He plops down next to her with a greeting, asking why she’s just there by herself. Isadora shrugs like it’s no big deal, claiming she wanted to set Dylan free for a bit to have fun on his own terms. She doesn’t mind. It’s fun to just watch him.

And he clearly is having fun. He’s laughing with other skaters and working out some tricks of his own, bright and social as ever. When he does a kick-flip and lands it with a flourish, Isadora comments that he’s gotten really good at skating.

Asher: Yeah. Wasn’t always though. First time he brought me here, he basically face-planted and I had to patch up his wounds.

Isadora: Well, that’s why you’re good together, isn’t it? Balancing each other out.

Asher: Guess so. Friends are like that, too, though. Patch you up when you fall.

Yeah, if they’ve proven anything this week, it would be that. Isadora meets his eyes, offering a small smile that he easily returns. Grateful for his time and effort, even if she doesn’t have the words to articulate it. Asher isn’t going to push her, not one for big emotional speeches either.

And thankfully, they have the best distraction there is to focus on instead. Dylan preps to ride the half-pipe, looking over his shoulder and spotting the two of them. He notices that Asher has joined them, grinning wider. He blows a kiss towards them, then tips off the side and into the rush of the ride.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

It’s Saturday night, and Zay’s final performance in West Side Story. He’s backstage getting ready when Yindra and Nigel are allowed backstage to visit, exchanging cool nods with a couple of the other performers before rushing over to him. Nigel asks Zay for a big favor, to which he raises his eyebrows.

Zay: Depends. How big is this favor?

Nigel: … so the techies are here tonight, and Jade is with them, but she said she’d be just as happy sitting with me and Yindra. So then I mentioned how you took us backstage the other day, and how cool that was, and then I said maybe you could do the same for her. At least to see the costumes. Man, if I could get Jade back here to see actual Broadway --

Yindra, helpfully: Off-Broadway…

Nigel: -- level costumes, she would think it was so cool. Please, can she come backstage after the show? Please. Please?

Zay: Alright, alright! You can bring her back here, Shakespeare-in-love. You’ll just have to wait until we’re done with post-show notes so I can say bye to everyone.

Nigel lightly pumps his fist. Score. Yindra shakes her head at his ridiculousness, obviously well used to his Jade-related monologues by now.

Suddenly, the director flurries into the dressing room in a full state. When the actors ask what the hell is wrong, she informs them that their Tony has succumbed to his illness. He’s not going to be able to make the show.

Actor 1: Succumbed? Is he dead?

Actor 2: His cold? He’s been working through it all week!

Director: Yes, well, now it’s pneumonia. Our Tony has pneumonia, his understudy is out of state, and we are royally fucked.

Yindra, under her breath: That’s what happens when you don’t let yourself recover...

For a moment, there’s the electricity of opportunity in the air as Zay thinks fast. Then he steps forward, stating confidently that he can do it. He can do the Tony role. Yindra and Nigel gape at him, stunned and amazed.

The director starts asking questions, like who will do his role and how he’ll do an entirely new part in one night. Zay’s more than prepared, firing back answers.

Zay: I’ve been studying his rehearsals, I know all the blocking. I can do the singing and dancing in my sleep, and you know I’ve got the range. My understudy is here, so he can just step into the Riff role.

The director considers this, torn between conventionality and truly desperate straits. Zay appeals to her ethos, coming across as stable and capable as he can.

Zay: I can do this. I can play the role.

An endless moment of tension, of uncertainty. Then the director caves, agreeing to the change and instructing Zay to go to costuming fast and get suited up for Tony. They’ll have to make some last-minute tailoring adjustments, but nothing they can’t pull off in the next thirty minutes. Thank God for simple male costuming. Everyone else, warm ups in the green room in five minutes!

The moment she’s gone, Zay turns back to Nigel and Yindra with palpable excitement on his face. They jostle him enthusiastically, lowkey screaming at this turn of events. Zay is about to headline his first Off-Broadway show!

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

In contrast to the high energy of the West Side theater, the Adams auditorium is peaceful. Makes sense, since it’s a Saturday night and school doesn’t open until Monday. The lights are down, only one set of lights on above the stage where Eric is sitting. He’s comfortably on an acting block, looking out at the quiet house and sipping from one of his office mugs.

Unsurprisingly, Jack makes his way onto the stage a few moments later. He raises his eyebrows at seeing Eric already there, but he can’t help but smile.

Jack: I thought we agreed we weren’t coming in this weekend.

Eric: Yeah, and I’m a liar. I caved.

Jack: Well, I’m here too, aren’t I? I just wanted to come in on the offensive.

Eric smiles, patting the acting block set up next to him. Jack walks over, settling down onto the block and releasing a sigh. He soaks in the plaintive quiet for a moment, commenting how different it’ll feel on Monday when the students return. Instances of quiet like this are pretty rare, in this land. The calm before the storm, in a sense.

At least, Eric claims, this year isn’t likely to be the hurricane last year was. And they’re better prepared, now, and they’ve got their school in tip-top shape after this week. They’ve done the work. The kids have done the work. They’re ready now, for what happens next.

Jack chooses to believe he’s right, even with the impending threats that might descend upon their peace come Monday. They joke about how they’re both there bracing for the worst anyway, but Eric points out it’s not just that. He likes coming in just to spend time there, like Stockholm Syndrome almost. Adams, in some ways, is their baby. Especially in the last few years, it’s been something they’ve raised from the ground up to be better. Just like their students.

Jack: And amazingly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. [ raising his thermos ] Partner.

Eric smiles. Even if other aspects of their relationship are murky, that’s something. Partner… he could get used to partner.

Eric clinks his mug against Jack’s thermos, as Zay’s vocals and the orchestral underscore of West Side Story gently floats in...

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Somewhere” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Charlie Gardner

We’re in the second act of the show, Zay obviously killing his first and last stint as Tony. He sings expressively as always, emotive and strong. He has decent chemistry with his co-star as well, especially for only jumping into the role on the fly that night.

In the audience, over the course of the first verse, we see plenty of familiar faces in the audience as Riley planned. She’s sitting next to Lucas, and down the line from him are the rest of the techies, Isadora nestled between him and Dylan. Farkle and Maya are present as well. Jade is sitting next to Nigel, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Yindra eyes them from Nigel’s other side, amused.

Then, in the back of the house, there’s Charlie. There after all, but hidden away. He’s standing in the wing of the doors to the atrium, though it seems as though he wasn’t hiding there the whole show. He watches Zay perform wistfully, that usual mixture of awe and pride in his features, but it’s cut with melancholy now.

Then, as the Maria verse starts, it’s not Zay’s co-star singing, but Charlie instead. On stage, it’s not the actual performance but the two of them under the soft lights, sharing the duet with more chemistry and far more emotion than the original duo could ever have. On the line “hold my hand and we’re halfway there,” Charlie and Zay lightly press their palms together, before sliding their fingers together and clasping their hands.

We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving…

But that’s not reality. It’s a nice dream, wishful really, but as apt as the lyrics are, it’s not the truth. Charlie blinks the wetness from his eyes, turning and escaping the theater.

EXT. WEST SIDE THEATER - NIGHT

Charlie pushes into the breezy summer night, letting out an exhale. He stands frozen for a moment, torn over going back in to see it through to the end…

But he can’t. It’s over now. What’s done is done. Charlie stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts down the street, pointedly alone in the Manhattan evening. The orchestra plays him off as we watch him get further and further away…

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - ATRIUM - NIGHT

Zay, on the other hand, is surrounded by company as he gathers with spectators after the performance. He’s clutching flowers from his family as the director lauds his talents to DONNA BABINEAUX, OMAR BABINEAUX, and JADA BABINEAUX. She states he’s a life-saving performer, totally saved the show tonight, and he knows her number for when he’s ready to jump back on the stage. Talk about a helpful connection!

After she flutters off, Donna pulls Zay into a hug and tells him how incredibly proud she is. Omar echoes the sentiment. Jada playfully elbows him and then ruffles his hair, to his complaints, saying she can’t let his head get too big, now. Might have to take a pin to it and let out some of the hot air.

They release him to go greet his adoring fans -- that is to say, his friends. He fields compliments as he goes, finding his way to Riley, Lucas, Dylan, and Asher first. Riley gives him a tight embrace, saying he was amazing and talking about how cool it was to see him play Tony. I mean, the leading role!

Zay: Gotta say, I’m amazed you’re here, Friar. Didn’t think Riley had that much power.

Riley, cheekily: Well, you shouldn’t doubt my influence.

Lucas: [ rolling his eyes ] You can take my presence as the highest compliment.

Zay: Sure…

Dylan: You know, I always knew you’d make a great Tony.

Zay: No kidding?

Dylan: Oh, yeah. Just this tingle I got. Between us here [ leaning in conspiratorially ] I’m kind of a little bit psychic.

Zay: Nooo kidding…

Asher grins, leaning into Dylan’s side. He commends Zay again for his stellar performance, giving him an out to escape the conversation. Zay nods gratefully -- for more than just the compliment -- sliding past them and spotting the person he wants to speak with next.

Isadora is standing between Farkle and Maya’s crowd and the rest of the A class congregation, but somehow she still comes off isolated. Zay saunters over to join her, making a light joke about how she’s emerged from her hibernation and it’s good to see her again. Isadora manages to laugh along, then congratulates him on a good performance. Before he can respond, she blurts out an addition.

Isadora: She would’ve been here. [ a beat ] My mom. She was going to move to New York, and she… she wanted to know my friends. Wanted to support young talent -- she knew it when she saw it. She would’ve been here.

Zay lets her express the rushed sentiment, then nods appreciatively, before finding the best thing to say in response. He smiles lightly.

Zay: I’m glad you are.

It’s a layered statement. Glad she’s there at all, glad she could be there when her mother couldn’t, emphasizing that her presence matters just as much if not more than her starlet mother’s would’ve. It lands for Isadora, who manages a grateful smile in return.

Zay lets her go, slipping into the A class conversation as they’re in the midst of it. Yindra, Nigel, and Jade greet him enthusiastically, HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ waiting for their chance to give him sincere congratulations. It’s so cool, one of them really being up there! And of course, it would be Zay Babineaux.

Unfortunately, though, he picked the worst time to slide into the discussion. They’re actively discussing Charlie, only the mystery has gotten weirder.

Clarissa: No, he literally was here. Like, he sat with us all through Act 1.

Haley: Yeah, he got up in the middle of Act 2, said he had to get some fresh air. Then he never came back. I’ve tried texting him, but he’s not answering.

Clarissa: It was weird, even for Charlie.

Yindra: I swear, that boy is a whole ass enigma for someone who tries to be so intentionally vanilla.

Maybe so, Yindra. Maybe so. It’s clear that Zay doesn’t know how to process this information. The fact that Charlie was there, that he came at all… but then apparently walked right out halfway through. And on the night he was playing Tony, the night where his performance was truly something special.

Either way, it certainly takes the wind out from under his wings.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora and Farkle walk into her bedroom, which is now considerably tidier than the last time we saw it — Asher clearly followed through with his suggestion of cleaning it. Farkle flops down onto the bed, familiar and comfortable with the environment after a summer of visiting. Isadora takes a seat by her desk, spinning the chair around to face Farkle. They briefly discuss how good Zay was in the show, before Farkle turns the focus to Isadora.

Farkle: So how was your big week?

Isadora: Good, actually. I’ve learned that I need to get back onto the skateboard.

A confusing statement for somebody without context. Farkle props himself up on his elbows and frowns at her.

Farkle: I didn’t know you skated.

Isadora: Oh, I don’t. Not at all.

Farkle watches her with amused bewilderment, glad to see her more upbeat and happy. There’s a soft fondness to his expression, which Isadora catches and squirms at.

Isadora: Stop looking at me like that.

Farkle: Like what?

Isadora: I don’t know. Like... like how Maya looked at my mom.

Farkle snorts at that, sitting up properly now.

Farkle: Nobody will ever look at somebody with as much love and adoration as Maya looked at Valerie.

Isadora looks at Farkle blankly, processing what he just said. She scoffs, but sounds vulnerable when she speaks again.

Isadora: You make it sound like you love me. Or something.

Shock flashes across Farkle’s face for a moment, before he smiles and rolls his eyes casually.

Farkle: Of course I love you, you’re one of my best friends. Pretty stupid question for a genius to ask.

To break the heaviness, Farkle reaches to spin Isadora’s desk chair, making her laugh. She grabs a book off her desk and throws it at him in retaliation, which he just dodges with a yelp.

Farkle: [ shaking his head ] Is this the way you treat your best friends? I understand why Lucas is angry all the time now.

Isadora: Shut up, Icarus.

They look at each other with matching goofy smiles, before Farkle surprises Isadora by launching one of the ratty old stuffed animals on her bed at her. She bursts out laughing as she picks up another book as her weapon of choice.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley, Lucas, Dylan and Asher have regrouped at Chubbies, able to be there late at night thanks to Lucas’s access to the keys. They’re sitting by couple in the usual booth, chatting about the final week and splitting milkshakes. Even though she won’t be back at school for the first day to avoid the hectic energy, overall, the boys declare their efforts with Isadora a massive success.

Lucas: Well done, spaghetti and pickle.

Dylan: Aye, aye.

Riley grins at them, then takes a moment to speak. She claims they have no idea what the coming year is going to be, but they’ve got each other. And she has this feeling, faith maybe, that it’s going to be good. Really good. Dylan nods in approval, and Lucas too, though his perspective is a little less rosy.

Lucas: Don’t see how it could be any worse than everything else we’ve already endured.

Asher: [ rolling his eyes, to Riley and Lucas ] You two really are the epitome of glass half-full, half-empty.

Lucas shrugs, maintaining his unimpressed expression. Riley beams brighter, leaning closer to him and nudging his side. That, he can’t help but crack a smile at. Then she raises the milkshake glass, lightly, and proclaims a toast.

Riley: To us, and our last summer.

Dylan: And the beginning of the rest of our lives.

I’ll cheers to that! Asher and Riley clink the glasses together.

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

And just like that, it’s back to Triple A! Dave Williams and NICK YOGI do their usual routine of wishing us an enthusiastic welcome back to AAA on behalf of the A/V club, which they’re truly resurrecting this year. The mood is nowhere near as somber as the previous year, excitement palpable in the halls for the senior A class.

Dave: We’re back, thotties, for senior year.

Yogi: Something that is essentially guaranteed to be a wild ride.

Dave: We’re bigger. We’re better. We’re feral in the looming shadow of great change.

Yogi: It can only be batshit, especially now that the A class is in charge.

Dave: Can’t wait to see what happens!

Me either, Dave. Me either. We’re on the move, Dave and Yogi jogging past Maya at her locker to go get more footage.

She’s dressed in the Riley-chosen outfit, although she did her best to glam it up by adding a beret to the look and making her blonde locks pin-straight. DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON approach her, the former eagerly giving her a hug and saying it’s good to see her again. She missed her this summer! Sarah focuses on her outfit, snorting.

Sarah: Who picked your outfit, Hart? Sherlock Holmes?

Maya: [ with a flip of her hair ] I’m a woman of my word, Carlson, and that’s all you need to know. Besides, I’m going for a little bit of a Euro-flair.

Darby: I think it looks great.

Maya: You’re so sweet, Darbs. Misguided, but sweet.

Down the hall, Riley is attempting to adjust to her new look as well. She shrugs off her denim jacket with florals painted on the back that she used to get out of the house without being killed by Cory, obviously nervous about sporting this sleek look.

It’s impossible not to look at her though -- especially for Lucas James Friar. He comes to join her, slowing his approach when he sees the way she’s dressed. His eyebrows shoot up.

Lucas: Wow.

Riley: I know. It’s so… ah. [ making a face ] And I had to basically smuggle myself out of the house, but Maya said I can only wear my jacket when there’s a chance my dad will see, even though I look so, like…

Lucas: No, no, I didn’t mean -- it’s not bad. It looks, uh… you look good.

Riley, hopeful: … really?

Lucas: Yes. Yeah. [ clearing his throat ] I was kind of hoping to go through my life not owing Maya Hart for anything, but…

Oh. Well that’s a very different kind of “wow.” Lucas subtly looks her over again, tentatively resting his hand on her waist. Riley regains some of that confidence she had in the mirror from his approval, biting back a smile. It seems like he might lean closer to kiss her…

When they’re interrupted, Farkle oblivious to their romantic tension as he sidles up on Riley’s other side and greets them pointedly. Lucas retracts his hand and swallows his cocktail of emotions, cutting a glare at Farkle. Riley is more friendly as she returns his greeting, spinning to face him with a smile.

Riley: You seem like you’re in better spirits.

Farkle: Let’s just say I found a way to… let off some steam.

Farkle and Lucas exchange a knowing look. It goes over Riley’s head, who is distracted when Zay wanders over to join their little grouping.

Riley: There he is! Our A class celebrity.

Zay: Riley, please, no dramatics. [ grinning ] But you’re not wrong. Though I’m not the one dressed like one. Damn, Miss M. Where has this been for the last three years?

Riley preens a bit, obviously pleased with the praise of her friends. Though Zay claims he’s got some new bling as well, showing off his new Adams class ring. It’s gold-banded, with his birthstone nestled in the center, a regal red ruby. He also explains that his initials are inscribed on the inside. Riley loves it, but again he defers and states she is the looker today.

Maya: And I’ll take credit for that, thank you very much.

Maya joins them, coming to stand with Farkle and completing their little gathering. It’s insane, honestly, seeing them all interact casually and mostly amicably. Maya brings the conversation back around to the point Dave and Yogi made upon our return -- it’s their school now, bitches.

It’s an empowering thought… for a moment. Their idealized comeback is disrupted by a few underclassmen rushing through the halls, making an eerie yet somewhat excited declaration. She’s coming! She’s here!

The seniors exchange bewildered looks, but they don’t have to wait long for clarity. A reminder of that new factor they almost blissfully forgot makes itself known in the most bombastic way possible. As the opening horns blare…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Confident” as performed by Demi Lovato || Performed by Missy Bradford

Oh, that’s right. She’s here. MISSY BRADFORD is back, as rich, alluring, and privileged as ever. She looks essentially the same as when we last saw her, only her hair is cut to her shoulders now -- though still equally luscious. We pan up from her heeled boots and over her expensive ensemble until she launches into the number, coming in to conquer.

And, to be fair, she’s a decent performer. She’s no diva in terms of talent, but her personality and assertiveness make up for the skill she lacks. She tears up the scenery and messes with underclassmen as she marches on, pulling some in as back-up dancers and simply flirting with other male students.

Our crew of seniors are less won over, still remembering the circus that got her into the school in the first place. A shot hangs on their reactions during the number, a combination of disdain, apprehension, and affront. Lucas is definitely unenthused. Zay and Riley look particularly disturbed, while Maya cocks her head and assesses this new bitch who might think she has a chance of being a threat.

Even so, a banging performance is a banging performance. Ah, to be back at AAA…

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Missy isn’t the only new face arriving at Adams on that last first day. Jack and Eric are waiting in the atrium to greet their new coworker. Jack is shifting nervously, Eric reaching out and touching his shoulder to keep him from jittering so much.

Eric: You’re making me seasick.

Jack glares at him, but only after he glances at his hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t get the chance to respond, their guests arriving at exactly that moment. EVELYN RAND, looking professional but unique as always in a fun colorful pantsuit, grins as she makes her entrance with a fellow school board employee in tow. She greets both of them with light embraces, stating it’s always a pleasure to see them.

Then, she introduces their new colleague, HARRISON YANCY. He’s a large, sharply dressed man in his 70s, exuding traditional authority. He shakes their hands, but doesn’t offer the warmth that their boss Evelyn does. As she explains it, he’ll be joining them as an administrative consultant of sorts, monitoring the school for the year to see how things go.

Yes, that is exactly what they don’t want… but nothing to be done about it now. Eric takes control once the introductions are done, charm up as high as he can turn it.

Yancy: Quite a fine institution you have here.

Eric: We know, and we take it’s maintenance quite seriously. And you haven’t seen the best of it -- all you had the pleasure of seeing was this lovely atrium and our lecture hall. Please, allow me to give you both a quick tour. I know you’ve already seen it, Evelyn…

Evelyn: Oh, I never pass up a good tour. Lead the way, Eric. I do hope we get to see the cafeteria. I heard about that renovation you all were planning for the mosaic tiles on the wall, and I’ve been dying of curiosity…

Eric kicks off their walkabout, Yancy examining everything with a critical eye while Evelyn keeps up lively chatter. Eric glances over his shoulder before they disappear from sight, shooting Jack a reassuring thumbs up.

Well, no turning back now. Jack releases a sigh, returning back to the front office.

Riley, pre-lap: This place is insane. How do you keep everything in order like this?

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Riley is up in the prop loft with Asher, who is starting his first day inventory and tidying up. Not that anything would’ve even moved over the summer, but still, he does what he needs to do. He’s meticulously arranging while Riley meanders the shelves, actually getting a good look at the props on display.

Asher: I take my position seriously, that’s how. With effort comes organization, and with organization comes control. And when things are in control, then nothing can go wrong.

Riley: That’s a nice idea. Triple A could use some control.

Asher: If the prop loft wants to descend into disarray, it can do it when I’m dead.

Well, or like, graduated. Riley smiles, shaking her head. She focuses back on the shelves, raising her eyebrows at a sticky note stuck to the cubbyhole of one of the more sizable props. It’s not in Asher’s handwriting like most of them, instead scribbled in Dylan’s messy chicken scratch.

FRAGILE!! Treat her with respect or bear the fury of Asher Lupe Garcia!!!! AND SATAN!!

The prop under such divine protection is a clock, ornate and beautifully carved but obviously delicate. The attention to detail is astounding, and it’s clearly cared for with a lot of love.

Riley: I didn’t realize you all had Satan on speed dial.

Asher looks at her like what the fuck, until he sees what she’s looking at. He rolls his eyes playfully, coming over to join her.

Asher: It’s my favorite prop. Has been since I got here, but we haven’t had a production that it would fit. Guess that’s for the best, since it’s pretty fragile -- hence the warning.

Riley: Yes, Dylan clearly has strong feelings about its protection.

Asher: Yeah, but I’m sure you can guess who almost accidentally broke it first…

Though the comment isn’t exactly complimentary, Asher is smiling fondly as he reads over Dylan’s note again. Then he focuses on the clock, explaining that he tries his best to keep it in shape. That includes keeping the hands functional, which he does by gently pushing the hands counterclockwise back towards the 3.

He has this thing about where the hands are. He never lets them get too close to striking 12. It just started as a habit somewhere in freshman year, but now it’s kind of like a sacred ritual.

Riley, amused: I thought you weren’t superstitious.

Asher: I’m not! [ off her giggle ] This is OCD, not mythos.

Maybe so, but there might be some subconscious reasoning too that he hasn’t taken the time to unpack. And he won’t be doing so today either. Riley lets it go, lightly nudging the hands further backwards in time while Asher goes back to work.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Time is of no concern to Maya, who is sprawled on top of one of the outdoor lunch tables. She’s leaning back on her palms, tilting her head up to absorb the sunshine before they go back into the school for a full day of AAA chaos. Farkle is seated on the bench below her, checking his watch intermittently to make sure they don’t miss class.

He claims it’s weird without Isadora there, to which she responds that now he knows how weird it was when he was gone after his attempt. It’s not right when one of them isn’t there -- they make up AAA, you know. Their personalities. It’s a pretty sentimental comment for Maya Hart, but she breezes past it a moment later.

Maya: Besides, she made the right move ditching today. If Bradford’s little display was any indication, we’re in for a chaotic year. Better for her to take the extra day to prepare for it, maybe the rest of us will simmer down after the first day buzz.

Farkle agrees. He asks what she thought about Missy, like if they should be concerned, but Maya simply scoffs. She is not concerned about that privileged vixen. Maya has been the top bitch at AAA, in their class, for three years.

Maya: No old-money spoiled brat is going to swoop in and take that away. She can try -- but she’ll fail.

Here’s the bottom line: this is their year, for real this time. She may have been displaced emotionally last year, with his whole thing and her mom being relocated -- who she misses terribly, despite how aloof she’s acting about the whole thing -- but this year they’re stronger than that. It’s their turf, Farkle, and it’s their year.

Maya: Mark my words, Farkle --

Farkle: You sure do have a lot of them…

Maya: This year belongs to us. And you and I? We’re going to get everything we want.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class assembles for their first performance lab of senior year, cheerful greetings and hugs being exchanged for those who haven’t had the chance to catch up yet.

Zay is up on stage with HARPER BURGESS, the latter complimenting him once again on an excellent show in West Side Story. She knew he had it in him. He’s clearly grateful for the belief, reminding her that he wouldn’t have found out about the opportunity if it weren’t for her. He thanks her for looking out for him. She pats his shoulder, nodding him back down to the seats.

Then she gathers the class, welcoming them back for their senior year. She can feel their excitement even from up on stage. SHAWN HUNTER jogs on stage to join her, but lets her stay in control, having finally figured out their co-teaching balance.

After pointing out that they have old and new faces joining them this year -- a few glances cutting to Missy seated contently on her own in their midst, unbothered -- Harper goes on to explain what the year is going to be like. There’s a lot in store for them this year, and it’s going to be full of hard work. The senior showdown, college applications, emotional highs and lows… but it’s going to be fun too. And enriching, full of growth, as every year at AAA is. There’s very little doubt about that.

As she starts to discuss performances, Maya raises her hand, though she doesn’t wait to be addressed. She happily declares that she and Farkle have actually prepared something for the first performance of the year, so no need to ask for volunteers. They’ve got it covered.

Nate: No one asked.

Actually, Harper starts, they already have someone performing first. That’s what she was just about to explain. This student requested the opportunity to come back with a flourish, since she’s got a lot of catching up to do. Maya is stunned, wondering who already undercut her senior year triumphs.

And she doesn’t wait long to find out. The moment Harper vacates the stage, the jaunty orchestration starts, and suddenly a powerful mezzo soprano voice is filling the auditorium.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Anything Goes / Anything You Can Do” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco

A set piece turns to reveal CHAI FRESCO, back from her year abroad in London. She’s bolder, blonder, and delivers a stunningly strong rendition of the selected mash-up. For someone who effectively blended into the background for all of sophomore year, enough to pull off what she did, she must have been holding back a lot.

Because she’s good. Damn good, delivering the message the performance signals loud and clear. Anything you can do, I can do better…

In the audience, the A class is watching in dumbstruck shock. Some people, like the techies, clearly forgot Chai existed. But for the performers -- especially the divas, like Zay, Farkle, and Maya -- her return is a loud and unwanted wake-up call. Just because they’re all chummy now, there’s still competition, now more than ever before. They take the vocals that argue with Chai about whether or not she can outshine them.

And in this moment, she does. She throws her arms out wide and delivers the final resounding notes, shattering the finale. Maya, Farkle, and Zay stare at her with their mouths dropped open. Riley grimaces, knowing this can only mean drama. Next to her, Lucas tries to hide a laugh behind his hand.

Now we’re really back. As for what this year holds, well, we obviously can’t get too comfortable.

Anything goes!

END OF EPISODE.

#S3 #episodes #301 #AND WE'RE BACK!

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hotpotrandomfics · 3 years

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Reincarnated Love: Beginnings and Fateful Meetings

Summary: Ciel is boy who lives an average life with his father but on the day of his birthday things started to change. What comes next will forever destroy the old life he has a rebirth was to come soon. Old souls will meet for the first time and new bonds will begin to grow into existence.

Word Count: 6,175

What is it to love; what is it to desire? No one can truly say for those feelings are two separate roads one's heart is torn to follow and it is a path that is never easy to navigate. Two such individuals follow that path unbeknownst to themselves as this unforeseen bond transcends time and the will of the Gods. This tale is of a boy who bends fate to his will and a goddess who will let to embrace the one she has yearned for over six millennia. Who says love doesn't go beyond time? Only fools...

Our story begins on March 7th, 2009, it was the birthday of Ciel Ambrose Silverstein and for most kids his age they would be happy to be another year older, but he didn't see much joy as he never really had friends to spend it with, only his dad. It wasn't as though he didn't care for his dad Ciel loved his dad as he was the closes thing to a best friend he has. The two lived in a single-story house within walking distance of his father's cafe, Crossroads Cafe, a simple hole-in-the-wall place that Ciel has many fond memories of.

Ciel climbed out of bed like any morning, heading to the bathroom adjacent to his closet door. He washed his face and brushed his teeth as his dad was big on personal hygiene. After doing that, Ciel went to his closet and grabbed his favorite jeans, '09 Nike Pegasus sneakers, the Linkin Park shirt his dad bought at last night's concert (dad was the best), and his pullover hoodie. Once dressed and hair brushed, Ciel made his way to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

"Good morning troublemaker," said a deep British voice, a blonde man with sky blue eyes and scruff on his face gave the boy a loving pat on his head. "Sleep okay after that mayhem?"

"Yeah! That was so awesome, thanks, Dad!" Ciel said with a mouth full of cereal.

"Manners young man," said his father with a grin as he filled his favorite mug (number one dad) as he looked at his son. "I keep my promises to you don't I?"

Nodding, Ciel finished the cereal in his mouth before elaborating. "You always do Dad and I appreciate it. Even if your jokes are corny."

"Hey, my jokes are amazing and you love them," his father tried defending himself.

"Only because you look like a dork." Ciel laughed as his dad glared at him sternly before joining in the laugh. The two discussed the highlights of the concert from the guitar solos and the moments where fans got "too happy" and did stuff a twelve-year-old shouldn't witness.

The family of two left their home for a morning walk, it was a mandatory activity in the household something Alex did with his father. Alex liked to share moments like that with his son to show him the joys of nature and talk to him about the world. Explaining many things and here the views of the world from his son's perspective. Ciel from how Alex saw him was intelligent, not academically, but his views of the natural balance of society and nature were something a philosopher would find intriguing. There is a joy to find in society's progress but one must not forget where man and woman came from. Alex would question his son to try and understand the meaning of his surroundings and why did events take place.

For Ciel, answering his father's questions was no simple feat but rather a mountain range he must climb as he navigates for an answer. His father wouldn't simply give him the answers as that would defeat the purpose of hearing Ciel's thoughts. Often than not, Alex would ask if he believed in destiny and fate though the answer Ciel gave him was more so a question to his. "Are fate and destiny not the same thing, or are the two entwined?" He would ask his father who would contemplate the question himself as the two discussed such matters that surprised many eavesdroppers.

"Are you still having those nightmares and daydreams?" Alex asked as the two made their second lap around the block.

"Yeah," Ciel rubbed the back of his neck, "I still see those things. Spirits? Is it normal dad?"

"I can't say for certain," Alex said as he looked to his son who's expression became downcasted. "However, I think there is a reason why you can see those spirits. Can you guess why?"

"Fate?" the boy questioned.

"Possibly," Alex smiled as he tossed his son's hair. "But I like to believe there is a reason for everything, mi hijo."

"Dad!" Ciel whined as he brushed his dad's hand away before giving a small smile to the elder Silverstein. "Can we head back?"

"After just two blocks? Laaazy, but fine since it's your birthday." Alex placed a hand on Ciel's shoulder as the two walked back to their home.

As the two made it to their area of the neighborhood, Ciel notices the door was slightly ajar. Ciel stopped short of the door, looking around his porch nervously of his surroundings. "Dad, somethings off. You locked the door before we left."

"Stay behind me," Alex said as he pushed the door in slowly. Stepping in, they heard a noise coming from the direction of the kitchen. Alex stepped cautiously through the dimly lit hall with Ciel behind him. Granted, it wasn't the smartest idea to have his son follow him into a possibly dangerous situation but the man rather his child be close to him so he may defend him. As the duo passed the threshold into the kitchen to find the culprit who was a woman.

She stood at five-foot-nine with olive-colored skin that was as flawless as marble. Her hair was a deep black that had a hint of violet as the sun from the kitchen window reflected on her flowing locks. Though her eyes were something to behold, a strong emerald green that had an ever-slight glow to it. The woman wore a burgundy gown and a light assortment of golden jewelry. The woman glanced at the two men before smiling as she raised a cup of tea to her lips.

"Here I come out of my way in my busy schedule and much to my surprise you two aren't who. Really?" the woman said as she placed the cup on the counter.

"Hecate," Alex muttered, "I..."

"It's been too long, Alex. Well, long from the mortal life but it still does not mean I haven't missed your company."

The two adults stared intensely at each other before a loud cough broke the silence.

"Dad, who is she? How does she know you? And why DID SHE BREAK INTO OUR HOUSE?" Ciel asked in worried confusion.

"Relax son," Alex placed a hand on Ciel in the usual comforting manner he did when his son wasn't sure of something. "This is Hecate, she's an old friend. She was around when you were born actually."

"She knows me? She's not some crazy ex?" Ciel inquired causing the woman to laugh.

"My, he has a similar wit to you but I see it's at a younger age. Yes, boy, I've known of you for a long time." The woman gave a small smile that was almost... motherly. "Alex, as much as I would want to be here for more personal reasons I have some news to give you."

"Ciel, go to your room. Hecate and I need to talk." Alex ordered. "Don't worry, we'll go to that Chinese place you like after she and I talk."

"But dad-," Ciel tried to be apprehensive only for his father to give him a stern look.

"Now, Ciel." Nodding, Ciel walked to his room and closed his door, throwing himself on his bed.

"So much for a good birthday," Ciel thought as he buried his face into his pillow.

In the kitchen...

"You haven't told him?" Hecate asked as Alex paced in the kitchen.

"How can I? The boy has plenty to worry about and his mother coming back for a few minutes isn't going to fix that!" Alex growled. "Ciel is happy, he's safe and he doesn't need to deal with that nonsense!"

"Alex, please. The fate of the world is at stake and Chronos forces are on the rise!" Hecate argued back. "Ciel's best chance of survival is going to Camp Halfblood. It's not only your safety that I have in mind, I have his in mind as well."

"He's my son! I can't just let him go off knowing I might lose him!" Alex said as he leaned into the counter, looking out the window. "Please, don't make me do this Hecate."

"He won't be alone, I can assure you." Hecate walked over to him and placed a hand on Alex's. "There are events in place that even I am having difficulty seeing but at the center of it is Ciel. If our son is to survive he must go and train. He must become what he is destined to be."

"I wish it were not the case," Alex looked into Hecate's eyes as the man was on the verge of tears. "Will you guide him? Protect him?"

"You know I cannot do so directly," Hecate retorted before sighing. "Alex, there is something else. I've decided to side with Chronos."

"What?" Alex asked completely flabbergasted. "Are you out of your damned mind?!"

"Watch your tone with me," Hecate warned as her eyes flashed with power but Alex didn't back down.

"Now I am definitely not sending Ciel to that camp! You honestly think me so idiotic to send my flesh and blood up there and expect you to protect him? When you just told me you've sworn to help the god you helped stop in the past?" Alex pulled his hand away from hers as he fumed with anger. "How can you expect me to trust you with that bomb?!"

"Alex, I am tired of being seen as a minor goddess. Never receiving the respect I deserve. Time and again I am left with the "short end" as you claim it. I want to be worshipped and acknowledge as I deserve to be." Hecate said as she turned her back to him.

The goddess and the man stood in a silence that was a heavy indicator this visit was to be concluded.

"Is the acknowledgment of your children not enough?" Alex questioned as he glanced at the setting sun. "Or the men who have fathered them not enough? Heh, I guess not."

"Alex," Hecate thought begrudgingly as she glanced over her shoulders before disappearing into the shadows. Knowing fully she may have destroyed a bridge between Alex and her. The memories of their brief time together were something she deeply cherished and some of the best times she had in millennia. But her hopes for new world order will allow her to receive what she deserves.

"Dammit," Alex gripped the counter as his eyes redden from the tears he was holding in as the frustration that was bottled in began to leak. "Fate, you're truly cruel than any power in existence that has ever been and that has ever been."

After composing himself, Alex looked at the picture of him and Ciel from when he was five years. The two went to the Florida Keys and stayed in a BnB while having the time of their lives. It was on that trip that Ciel started seeing strange things. He told his father he saw a giant snake in the ocean. If Alex remembered anything from his history classes back in the United Kingdom much of the mythological stories did explain gods, goddesses, heroes, and monsters. Alex was a young father, with no experience with kids whatsoever but when it came to his boy it all made sense for him, even if the talks of monsters seem ludicrous.

With no help from anyone he thought he did a decent job with him but Hecate coming to them and warning him of war. How was he supposed to explain this to his son? How could he make that trip up the east coast? But as much as he didn't wish to admit she was right. A choice must be made even if it hurts them both. A father has to prepare their children for the threats of the world. Even if that threat is their kin.

For the next few months, Alex had spent most of his time mulling over the pros and cons. During this time Ciel questioned why his dad seemed to be in a sour mood and would brush off the question which only caused the boy to worry in silence. It was on Wednesday, the last day of school when Ciel was on the school bus back home he noticed something stranger than usuals. The ghost of the town kept pointing in the direction of his home which only creeped him out even further. On the driveway of their home, Alex stood in front of his car as his son disembarked from the bus and greeted him.

"Hey dad, you're home early," Ciel said as he walked to his dad. "Slow day at the cafe?"

"I closed early. Son, there is something we need to talk about." Alex said causing Ciel to quirk a brow.

"Something wrong?"

"Not at the moment but the way things are looking we need to leave," Alex said as he goes into the driver seat of his car with his son the following suit and entering the passenger side.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"I'm taking you somewhere I never thought I'd have to take you," Alex responded as he pulled out of his driveway and beginning the long drive to the hopeful haven for his son.

The drive up to this place was filled with much silence and no talking between the father-son duo, whenever Ciel tried to start a conversation the words wouldn't leave his throat, instead, he just watched the change of scenery as they drove up the east coast. They'd only stop for the occasional rest stop and food before continuing the drive further and further from home.

It was two in the morning when they had reached their destination, Alex took a turn into a strawberry farm called "Delphi Strawberry Service," and followed the dirt road it was on to the nearby forest. As they drew closer lights of a fire could be seen through the canopy of the forest. Once the dirt road had finished, Alex stopped and parked the car outside of the marble gate that was in Ancient Greek but for some reason, Ciel could read it.

"Camp Half-Blood?" Ciel asked his father who stepped out of the car and made his way to the trunk where he pulled out a duffle bag for Ciel. Packed with clothes, the necessities, and his son's favorite book that Alex read to him, the Aeneid.

"Son, you'll be safe here," Alex said as he stepped to the passenger to let Ciel out of the car.

"Dad? What do you mean I'll be safe here?!" Ciel looked up to the older Silverstein who seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Mi hijo, you're special and I don't mean in the "dad thinks you're his special boy." No, you are destined for something great but the trials you face in the future going to be hard. You'll be okay, you're my strong warrior." Alex smiled as he kneeled kissing his son's forehead.

"Daaad, that's embarrassing!" Ciel slightly pouted from embarrassment. Alex could only chuckle as he took Ciel by the shoulder and guided him to the gate, waiting for them was something Ciel could not expect.

"Ah! What the heck is that?!" Ciel said as he clung to his dad. The pair looked to a man with long brown hair whose upper body was in a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up but what freaked Ciel out was the man's lower half was that of a horse.

"Ciel, don't be rude!" Alex chided. "Apologies, my son hasn't had much exposure to your world and even I find it unbelievable."

"It is of no worry," said an older voice. "Tell me, child, what is your name?"

"C-Ciel. Ciel Ambrose Silverstein, Mister?"

"It is a fine name. I am called Chiron. I am somewhat of a mentor for boys and girls like you."

"Like me?" Ciel titled his head to the left in confusion as he gazed at the centaur.

"Demigods, heroes, and great warriors," Chiron said with a gentle smile before glancing at Alex. "I shall give you a moment." Chiron walked a short distance to be out of earshot and let the two say their goodbyes.

"I will come and get you at the end of the summer, okay?" Alex said as knelt down to be at his son's eye level. "I know I can't give you all the answers but-"

"So you're abandoning me?!" Ciel shouted at his father who looked shocked at such an accusation.

"No! Heavens no," Alex gripped his son's shoulders, "but I can't protect you son and I couldn't bear the thought of you dying or being hurt. I need you to be safe and I know you will be here, so please, trust me and what I say. Have I ever lied to you?"

Ciel thought for a moment about his father's words before answering. "No, sir."

"I love you, Ciel." Alex pulled his son into a hug while Ciel returned the same affection.

After a few moments, the two separated and Ciel grabbed his bag and walked to the gates. Waving "goodbye" to his father and disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"Hecate, you better protect my son." Alex wiped the tears from his eyes before entering his car and driving back the way he came. Leaving his son to the Fates and the gods.

The next day Ciel was guided by one of the older campers through Camp Half-Blood. It didn't take long to learn the location for where everything was but Ciel was still cautious of everything around him. From the sounds of the forge to the pranking of the Hermes kids and the sight of the lava wall, he was convinced he'd probably die here. Though during breakfast he met two campers briefly, Justin and Lucille Peters, a brother and sister pair who have two different godly parents from how they explained it. Justin was a son of Apollo and Lucille was a daughter of Hephestus, it was odd how they'd have different godly parents but then again Ciel didn't know his. From what he could gather it seemed most of the kids here were of the twelve major Olympian gods while you had a mixed population of demigods born from minor gods or demigods whose parents haven't claimed them. Some demigods weren't claimed for years or if ever at all and it was a sad fact.

Ciel counted himself lucky that he at least had his dad and hoped he was right about coming here. Though it did beg the question, who was his godly parent, and would he be claimed tonight or never at all? Questions for later but for the time being Ciel would just take in his surroundings until he was comfortable to walk on his own. The Hermes kid let him know if he had any questions to not be shy and ask any of the older campers to which he nodded.

Ciel would wander through the camp until he felt a hand on his back, instantly, he jumped in a slight panic.

"Oops, sorry I didn't mean to spook you," said the boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a prosthetic leg. "I just wanted to introduce myself, my name is Justin Peters. What's yours?"

"Um, I'm Ciel Ambrose Silverstein. Wait aren't you the kid from earlier?" Ciel asked.

"Yep! Thought you would like some company you know since your new and all. Don't worry, me and my sister were in the same boat about a year ago. We're lucky we have each other but it's hard the first few days." Justin said with a smile.

"I suppose. Sorry, I'm not really with people."

"Oh don't worry about it! We can work on that together if you'd like." Justin responded to which Ciel couldn't help but smile. "So wanna do something fun?"

"Uh, sure?" Ciel responded.

"Great!" Justin said as he took hold of Ciel's arm, pulling him to the archery field. The two boys had shown up in the archery field meeting with the instructor, another child of Apollo, to who Justin introduced Ciel while explaining him being a new camper and was going to show him a little archery. Justin's older sibling advises him to take it slow with instructions to Ciel. Following the instructions of the older child and grabbing a pair of bows and two quivers of arrows. Justin began instructing Ciel on the principles of archery while going into depth about the anatomy of a bow and arrow. Ciel took to the instructions like a fish to the water as Justin helped Ciel get the posture down and load an arrow to fire.

For some reason, this felt natural to Ciel from the grip of the bow in his left hand and the fletching of the arrow in his right. Taking a steady breath to get his breathing in rhythm before brought the arrow up, lining his shot then fire...

"By the gods!" Justin said in surprise as he saw the direction of Ciel's arrow whizzing through the air hitting a bull's eye. "Ciel! That was amazing! And you said you never shot a bow and arrow ever?"

"N-no," Ciel responded shyly, "but it just felt natural, ya know?"

"We might have another son of Apollo on our hands," Justin said giving his new friend a love tap to the shoulder before laughing. Ciel could only shake his head and laugh.

"Hey! Justin! I made a new thing!" a girl shouted as she ran to the two boys almost going through the line of fire on the archery range. She was brunette covered in soot and grease but wore a warm smile and a pair of goggles on her head.

"Lucy! Careful! Remember there are people shooting arrows here!" Justin chided his sister.

"Oops, sorry it's just I'm a little excited because I wanna show you something." Lucille, a girl no older than nine showed the two boys a small bronze bull. At first, it seemed like a little figure until it started moving and mooing.

"Wow, that's cool!" Ciel said as he looked at the girl's creation. "You made that?"

"Yep! Wait, you're the new boy! I'm Lucille but my friends and family call me Lucy," the girl said as she offered her right hand, though covered in oil and grease, Ciel shook it kindly as to not seem rude.

"I'm Ciel, it's nice to meet you, Lucille."

"Call me Lucy, if you're a friend of my brother then you're a friend of mine." The girl gave a kind smile to Ciel to which he returned in kind.

"Lucy, you want to see something cool?" Justin asked as he turned to Ciel.

"Sure!" Lucille responded excitedly.

With an encouraging nod from Justin, Ciel loaded another arrow into his bow and fired, landing a bull's eye again. What could be acquainted with sheer luck was something in the making. To Ciel, each arrow fired was liberating like it was something only he could do and do in confidence.

His display was drawing a small crowd from all the other campers on the field who huddled behind the twelve-year-old who had no prior experience with archery. The crow was captivated by the display and lost it when Ciel finished off by sending the last arrow straight through one of his previously fired arrows. The crowd behind the ever ignorant Ciel clapped and caused him to yelp in surprise getting a chuckle from the crowd of campers. After a few words of praise and hopeful wishes from the children of Apollo, Ciel left the archery range with a very bubbly Lucille and Justin dragging him around the camp for a second tour. Granted he seen the majority of the camp but to be in the company of kids closer to his age was comforting.

For the rest of the day, Ciel spent it with the Peters siblings having fun but he still was a little sad. When the siblings weren't looking Ciel would wipe tears that threaten to escape. The trio would split off during dinner at the pavilion where Ciel had some time to think to himself. He had a plate of pizza and garlic bread and was enjoying the greasy carb meal. When he was done he tossed half a piece of garlic bread into the flames that other campers were doing to sacrifice to the gods. Hopefully, his parent liked garlic bread otherwise that would be a crime of the most unforgivable kind.

Once dinner was finished, Ciel made his way to the bonfire getting a seat away from the crowd of campers flocking in. Instead of sitting on a long, he sat on the dirt finding it was more than enough and so he could lean his back against the long as he gazed at the stars. He took his attention away from the sky when Chiron called for the attention of the campers to which they all listened.

"Good evening, heroes." Chiron's voice was soft but loud enough to be heard. "Tonight we have someone new and he is someone I suggest we take notice of since he had an impressive display at the archery field. Come on here," Chiron motioned for Ciel to go and stand next to him, Ciel did so nervously as he walked over to stand to the centaur. "Introduce yourself, don't be shy."

"Um, hi! I'm Ciel and I'm from Florida," he rubbed the back of his neck in the nervous tick he had.

"Tell us more!" Justin shouted from where he was sitting with Lucille who mimicked her brother's shout.

"Uh, I don't really got anything interesting-" Ciel was cut off as a circle of flames surrounded him causing Chiron to move out of the way from the strong flames. The campfire behind rose fifteen feet into the air and changing between blue and violet shades from the flames and a pair of violet torches hovered over Ciel's head. He was scared of the fire but it didn't hurt him. Whether out of stupidity or curiosity, Ciel reaches to the flames with his left hand and the flames died down until the campfire turned back to normal.

"What the hell just happened?!" Ciel shouted then covered his mouth, that wasn't a good impression. "Sorry..."

"Language aside," Chiron started as he looked to the boy, "you've been claimed child by a powerful goddess, the Titaness, Hecate. Congratulations."

A few weeks later...

Ciel was at the archery fields as it became his favorite pastime here at camp. Justin, his new best friend, would come out with him and have shooting competitions. It was the perfect motivator to want to get better because Justin was a son of the god of archery so he had some amazing skill but Ciel was always able to make them break even in their little contest. It would get Justin to pout but he didn't pout for long as the two would always break into a laughing fit. Justin was a good friend to Ciel when he hadn't had one for such a long time and was good at getting him out of his shell for pretty much everything. Even Lucille would watch their contest and act as a judge for fun, though she would get squirrelly and would just start tinkering with whatever little project she brought with her.

Granted, after being claimed and being one of the few children of Hecate, his siblings did teach him what their mother represented and provide him with what comfort they could. Though it seems that children of Hecate are introverted beyond belief which wasn't bad. The thing enjoyed with his demigod siblings was learning magic but he hasn't shown any ability in that area yet. For now, though he'll play to what he's a natural at that being archery and surprisingly tracking.

Ciel had been trying to mimic some of the older archers by doing certain movements such as quickdraws, shooting multiple arrows, shooting from different stances. All of which were becoming easier each day he practice. While doing one of his unique shots he heard footsteps coming his way, landing the bull's eye he heard clapping behind him.

Turning he was met by the sight of a gorgeous girl that was around his age. She had auburn hair, yellow eyes that had a hint of silver, and pale white skin. She wore combat boots, winter camo pants, and a white parka. Equipment-wise, she was carrying a silver bow with a matching quiver, and a combat knife on her hip.

"You shoot well for someone so young," the girl said.

"We are around the same age as far as I can tell," Ciel responded as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Do you not know who I am?" the girl asked as her brow quirked up.

"Should I? I have only been here for a few weeks. Sorry." Ciel said rubbing his neck nervously.

"I see, well, my name is Artemis."

"Like the goddess?" Ciel questioned.

"The very same," Artemis responded, "but your assessment is a little off because I am that goddess." Ciel's face went as pale as what was possible for a man of his skin tone could. Kneeling in a panic Ciel when ahead and face-planted.

"Ow!" Ciel whined as Artemis let out a light chuckle. "Sorry," he said as stood back up, "I hope I didn't offend you Lady Artemis."

"You did no such thing, but you did however amused me with your attempt at trying to be respectful. I will let it slide," Artemis said as she regained her composure. "You're quite skilled with that bow of yours. Are you a child of my brother, Ares, or Athena?" the goddess inquired to which Ciel shook his head "no."

"I'm a son of Hecate," the nervous boy said, "allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Ciel Ambrose Silverstein and it's an honor to meet you Lady Artemis. I've only known about this world for only a few weeks but I'm trying to learn. So I do apologize in advance if I don't know something or do something wrong."

"You're quite mature for only what, eleven?" Artemis questioned.

"Twelve, actually."

"Your father a hunter?"

"No."

"Then how can you handle a bow so well? I imagine you have no experience from how you just explained yourself."

"Oh, you be right there but it's just strange, it just feels natural to have a bow in my hand," Ciel said as he glanced at his bow with a small smile. "It's weird but it's a familiar feeling, I probably am not making any sense am I?"

"You are," Artemis said as she looked at the young boy before an idea came to mind. "Say, Ciel was it? Care to have a friendly competition?"

"A competition?" Ciel asked as he glanced at the goddess.

"Nothing too insane, just an archery competition between the two of us." Artemis looked at the boy with a challenging look in her eyes.

"I'm not sure if I am worthy or skilled enough to compete against you," Ciel hesitated though Artemis shot him a stern glare. "But I'd be happy to face you Lady Artemis."

"Excellent," Artemis smirked as she took a stance next to the child of Hecate. "First to twenty-five bull's eye?" Ciel nodded in agreement as his nervous deemer hardens into that of someone serious.

The two went on Artemis signal as they began their competition, the two let their arrows fly one by one. As the competition was underway, a gathering of campers and some of the Hunters of Artemis watched the display of skill between the goddess and the demigod. The two were three for three, Artemis clearly the more skilled but Ciel's natural ability was making the match slightly more even. Artemis glanced over to see that Ciel wasn't gonna submit easily so she decided to get a bit more showie by shooting at a faster rate. Ciel noticed this and began speeding his rate of fire to which caused Artemis to grin slightly.

"Not bad kid, but I'm better," Artemis thought as she kept hitting the target repeatedly, her arrows slicing clean through her arrows.

It seemed Artemis was about to win one step closer to victory only to be shocked with how Ciel kept a steady pace as her. Each breath was released with each arrow with such accuracy that Artemis had to admit she was impressed. No mortal has shown this level of skill for so long in her existence, only two men ever showed this level of skill but they were long gone. Men she hadn't thought of for a few centuries as she had gotten over their deaths ages ago.

The goddess and the demigod were on their last arrow, this last shot would determine the victor and Artemis wasn't going to lose this. With such quickness, she shot her arrow and landing perfectly on her target. Turning to her adversary with a grin, believing she won Ciel had surprised her by landing a perfect bull's eye that shattered the last arrow he shot causing a-

"No way! A tie?!" one random demigod shouted.

Ciel dropped to his knees panting as a blanket of sweat cascaded his face. He looked to his target surprised he even kept up at all. His arms were aching and he was exhausted trying not to fall behind. It was one thing to compete against Justin but against the Goddess of the Hunt? Nope, not an easy task and not one he'd forget for the longest time.

"Well, you seem pretty capable. Well done, but don't let this get to your head." Artemis warned.

"Why would I do that? This was fun Lady Artemis," Ciel panted as he looked to the goddess who gave him a narrow eye glare before giving him a small smirk, shaking her head.

"You're an odd one, I expect you to do better the next time and give me a real competition next time."

"There's gonna be the next time?" Ciel gulped.

"Of course," Artemis said sternly, "I am a goddess and I am not one to let someone get the better of me. Especially, to a man."

"I um hope to give you a good competition then?" Ciel said as Artemis walked off with her Hunters in toe. After Artemis left the archery field, Ciel was stormed by Justin and Lucille who began questioning why he was competing against Artemis. How was able to tie and was a secret descendant of Apollo from previous generations. He tried to answer but Justin and Lucille shaking him like a maraca was not helping with him trying to explain himself to them.

While Artemis had walked away with her Hunters, her sister Thalia decides to try and ask the goddess who simply brushed off the questioning. Thalia did make a light joke of Artemis seeing a cute boy but that only caused the goddess to shoot her the nastiest death glare anyone has seen for a while. It was quite humorous for the Hunters to see their lieutenant get nervous as they knew Artemis wasn't someone that would break her vow. As the Hunters talked amongst themselves in response to their astonishment at the young demigod skill their mistress was plagued by a quiet thought in her head.

"He seems so much like those two. Huh, haven't thought of those two for some time. Maybe he might be good for the hunt in a few years? Mmm, no. Last men that join the hunt died..." Artemis sighed as she glanced back over her shoulder to the direction of where Ciel was. "Best not to dwell on it and tempt the Fates."

This summer would define Ciel's life forever. From being claimed by his mother who chose not to show up until Ciel's life was endangered, to make two friends, and now having a goddess as a rival? Fate truly was cruel but certain events have been set in motion and Ciel was at the center of it all. This was a new beginning for Ciel, he was important whether he realized it or not as his path has become intertwined with others. Hopefully, he can make the right choice or he may meet an untimely fate...

#riordanverse fanfic #pjo fanfic #riordanverse #pjo #pjo au #riordanverse oc #ciel ambrose silverstein #son of hecate #justin peters #lucille peters #clara osto #artemis #hecate #chiron #alex silverstein #ciel x artemis

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crewhonk · 5 years

Text

Only Happy Accidents (three)

Summary: YN moves in with Steve, they have their first prenatal appointment, and YN meets the most important people in Steve’s life

Warnings: a little bit of angst relating to the Snap, Steve’s friends are protective, Steve is an emotional dad

Songs: “Life is Short”- Butterfly Boucher / “The Big Day”- Chance the Rapper

Masterlist

____________

December 18th / 6th Week

Moving was a hard feat within itself on a good day, but there were a lot of factors in Steve Rogers and YN YLN’s life right now that made it especially hard. One, the moving truck that Steve had asked to borrow was larger than they needed, and too big to fit in Steve’s apartments parking lot so he and YN would need to park down the street and carry their ten medium sized boxes and one hamper of bedding down the street and up three floors to his penthouse in Brooklyn.

Second, it was fully winter now, and even bundled up, the sleet and snow on the roads and sidewalks made normal walking treacherous at best. The cold New York breeze cut through Steve’s bones and he made sure (much to Michaela’s amusement) that YN was bundled put to the point of non-recognition.

Third, Steve’s… friend-fiancee-previous-hookup was two months pregnant and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in bubble wrap and hide her from the rest of the world until she had this kid. Then, he would wrap the baby up and tape them together just so he knew that they would be safe and together.

Steve Rogers had come to the conclusion that his goals would never ever be accomplished the normal way.

“Let me carry that, YN.” He smiled, coming up behind her to grab one of the last boxes she was reaching for. She huffed impatiently and leaned over the back of the truck, swiping for it and cheering happily when she finally reached it, pulling it towards her.

“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.” She hummed at his hovering— charming now, but once she was the size of a whale she knew she would get irritated with it. She had been right with the intense symptoms being a direct link to Steve’s swimmers, as her mood swings were just as legendary as her swelling hands and feet, exhaustion, morning sickness and her gas. She would ride this happy mood for as long as possible. Hell, she had only cried three times today.

“YN, you’re pregnant—“

“I know. I’m still a person who can lift things.” She smiled warningly and he nodded, stepping away and waiting for her to ask for help since he could see the label on the side of the box read ‘books’ and she was unable to lift it on the way here.

She pulled it into her arms and her eyes widened as she looked to him.

“I take it back. Help, please and thank you.” She grunted and he took it with one arm, not missing the way her eyes half-closed, zeroing in on his bulging bicep. He smirked to himself and reached for the box labelled ‘toiletries + medication’ and nodded to the last thing in the truck.

“You got the rug?” He asked and she nodded, seemingly at a loss for words at his strength.

“Uh. Yeah. Wait for me I’ll get the doors.” She rushed, picking up the tacky printed rug and pulling the drawstring on the truck door and closing it, darting forward and holding the doors to open them for him. She also ran forward and opened the elevator and as they neared his home, reached her hand into his jacket pocket and grabbed his keys, unlocking the door and letting him in first.

He put the boxes on his massive kitchen island and looked back to YN who was still looking in wonder around the Christmas-decorated house. She had made fun of him when he called it an apartment, and opened the door to find that it was the five times the size of the house she grew up in.

“A two floor, three bedroom, three bathroom place with a private rooftop garden is not an apartment, Rogers and you know that.” She gasped as she walked over to the large window in the open concept kitchen-living room combo. She could see a huge park in front of them and it seemed to be within a five minute walk of two schools and a church— despite her losing faith after everything her and her family had gone through.

“So, you like it?” He asked nervously once he turned from all the boxes on the counter and she looked over at him, smiling and nodding.

“Thank you for letting me live here, Steve. I know we’re practically strangers so this amazing that you’re doing.” She smiled, walking over to him. He wanted to open his arms and pull her into him, but they hadn’t quite established what they were as an item yet, so touch wasn’t quite something either of them were sure of.

“Hey, you’re my fiancee and the future mother of my son,” He smiled when she laughed, the loud sound filling the room and makings heart feel full. It had become a running joke— them using ‘he’ or ‘she’ when referring to the baby. Truly, both YN and Steve knew that it wouldn’t matter what the baby turned out to be, so long as they were healthy and happy and well-treated.

“Our daughter will be so happy here, Steve.” She returned, walking around the counter and opening the box dedicated for bowls and mugs and plates. They were a sharp contrast to Steve’s minimalist and impersonal style. Everything YN owned was against the cleanliness of his apartment— all mismatched and pattered and chipped and bright. She had an affinity for picking up things that made her eyes hurt.

The bright orange and red mugs were in sharp contrast to the three mugs he had, and the mosaic and patterned bowls and plates made Steve feel as if his Ikea plates were the most boring things in the world.

“Before you do that, do you wanna see your room?” He asked and she stopped, nodding with a smile. They walked down the hall and he opened the door on the end, letting her walk in and smile widely.

“This is awesome, Steve! The view is sick! The bed is huge!” She cheered, flopping down on it and looking up at him with a childish smile on her face. She looked behind him and her jaw dropped.

“There’s a bathroom? Okay. You’re never getting rid of me.” She gasped and he laughed.

“Wait until you see the walk-in closet.”

“Excuse me?!”

______________________

He threw the pillows from the box onto the bed, trying to not think about the last time he touched the blankets or sheets or multitude of pillows, a faint blush on both YN and Steve’s cheeks as they made the bed together.

“I’ll be right back, Steve. I think My toiletries box is still out there.” She said, and shrugged off his request to carry it in for her.

“You can start on the books if you want!” She called and he did so, reading the titles of the books as he filled the bookshelf beside the bed. When she didn’t return in five minutes, Steve called out her name and when she didn’t respond, he put the books down, leaving the room and stopping to find her staring into the room at the start of the hallway.

He walked up beside her and leaned against the doorframe, staring into the office he rarely used with a fond smile.

“This is her room?” YN whispered and he nudged her, smiling. She looked up at him with watering eyes and he cooed, pulling her to his side and kissing the top of her head quickly.

“Yeah, this is where he’ll grow up.” He mumbled and she sighed, leaning into him and looking around the room.

“It’s really bright.” She commented and he nodded.

“The sun sets on that side of the house so he’ll grow up with that.” He commented and she wiped her face with her sleeves.

“Sorry for crying so much. Wait until it really hits that I’m going to be a wife and mom in less than nine months.” She chuckled waterly and he squeezed her shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be married to Captain America in a few months.” He teased and she gasped.

“Sam Wilson proposed? I hope he knows I said yes.” She joked and he glared at her playfully, pinching her shoulder and making her squeal.

“Rude!” She cried out. He chuckled at her and shook his head, leaning into her and distracting her with the prospect of a kiss as he snatched the box from her hands, strolling down the hall to her room.

“No more carrying things heavier than ten pounds please!” He called out and she flipped him off when he looked over his shoulder at her.

_____________________

“I’m nervous,” She whispered from the passenger side of the truck as they pulled into the parking garage of the avengers compound. She had used to fangirl with her friends over the idea of living here with the team and watching movies with them every Thursday night.

“About which part?” He whispered back. He was too, but this was her time to be nervous, not his.

“Everything. This is a big day.” She responded when he turned off the car, pulling her jacket tight around herself and steadying her breath. He reached over and took her gloved hand in his own, fingers intertwining slowly.

“I know. I’m here with you every step of the way. Only Sam, Buck and Nat live here right now. Clint stops by every so often and Wanda lives with her mentor in Manhattan. Scott lives with his family. Banner lives in an apartment near Columbia. Everyone else is all over the world again, so you won’t probably meet the whole team right away which is nice.” He reassured and she only looked more strained.

“Only the three most important people in your life are here, yeah, no big deal.” She mumbled and he shook his head.

“They have nothing on the two other people in this car, though.” He replied and she looked over at him, smiling softly and nervously.

“You’re a real smooth talker, aren’t you?” She teased and he squeezed her hand.

“Only to cute dames who I plan on marrying.”

“Oh, there’s been more than me?” She asked, liking the way they were able to tease each other without stress.

“There was a cashier the other day who I pulled a good line on.” He joked and laughed when she slapped his arm. “Come on, tiger. We’re gonna be late for Cho.”

___________________

YN found it was very lucky that she could worry about meeting Steve’s people after the appointment, since they hadn’t run into anyone on the way up. The file of her medical history and her families medical history was clutched in her hand, and the notes of her questions weighed heavy in her jacket pocket.

They didn’t have to wait long for Cho to me and greet them, smiling and shaking both their hands when she saw them.

“Congratulations, Steve and YN. I had no idea Mr. Rogers was in a relationship let alone trying for. Baby.” She commented and YN blushed.

“Actually, it was pretty unplanned. We met for the first time on Halloween.” Steve said for her and Cho smiled at them. If she was judging them, neither Steve or YN could tell. The office was warm-looking and YN felt that it was the safest place in the world.

“Well, I’m still very happy for you both.” She replied, and she guided YN to the bathroom where she could change into a hospital gown as she started putting the information into YN’s new file. It wasn’t long until she walked out, struggling to tie the middle tie not he back fo the gown.

“Steve, can you—?” She asked, turning around and gesturing to the best of her ability to the tie she couldn’t reach. He felt his hands immediately begin to sweat and a blush creep up his neck as he looked at the bare expanse of her back. There was no secret they were still very much attracted to each other, so the fact that his hands brushed the skin of her back and he watched as tiny goosebumps erupted over her body was no surprise. It made him feel good, though.

The appointment was easy— bloodwork and urine samples and a pap smear which Steve stayed by her head for.

“I have one more pretty sensitive question for you, YN if that’s okay.” Cho said, as she read the last question on her clipboard.

“Okay?” YN replied, bracing herself.

“Were you a victim of ‘The Snap’?”

The silence that followed the question pressed in on them, and YN could feel her heart racing. She had yet to tell Steve that she was, and that her dad had died as a result of it, but you had to start somewhere, right?

“Yes, why?” She whispered and Steve sucked in a breath.

“So your age is 29 but you’re physically 24?” Cho responded and YN nodded, gripping Steve’s hand anxiously. His hold on her was comforting and anchoring and YN thanked the God she didn’t believe in that he was with her.

“There are studies happening in the medical field of how the body responds to something like what had happened in 2018. I have to ask if you’d like to be a part of these studies?”

“Sure,” YN said just as Steve replied “No.”

“Steve,” YN started, looking at him. His expression was nothing short of shock as he looked down at her.

“You’re not going to be a statistic. Our baby isn’t going to be a statistic.” He replied shortly and she touched his hand gently.

“If I can be a part of important studies that could possibly save lives in the future, why wouldn’t I?” She whispered and he chewed his cheek as he looked down at her, thinking.

“You’re too mature for your age, kid.” He muttered, squeezing her hand and nodding up at Cho who made a check mark on her clipboard and put it down, leaving the room briefly.

“You never told me about the snap,” Steve commented, and YN refused to meet his gaze.

“It’s not something I really talk about, honestly.” She said shortly, and Steve nodded, knowing the feeling of not wanting to talk about trauma and letting it go for now.

It wasn’t until Cho pulled out her ultrasound machine that YN’s heart rate picked up.

“We’re going to— already?” She asked, reaching for Steve’s hand and squeezing tightly. He wouldn’t be surprised if the baby was making her stronger too, as the grip on his hand was impressive.

“We can wait, but this ultrasound is one of the best in the world, so it shouldn’t be too much of an issue to find the baby.” She smiled, and YN looked up at Steve. He decided for them, nodding to Cho who snapped on some latex gloves and lifted the hospital gown (which YN had put on underwear under while they talked about a better prenatal medication plan and spitballed ideas about a birthplan).

“The gel is going to be pretty cold, and it won’t hurt the baby by any means. It’s made of the same ingredients as your usual lubricants.” She explained, shaking the bottle and squirting a generous amount on to YN’s belly.

The machine was a weird feeling on her, as Cho pressed hard onto the belly to get a clear picture. YN and Steve watched the screen with bated breath as Cho searched and a smile blossomed on her face when she stopped, snapping a few pictures and pointing at a small misshapen bean on the screen.

“That is your baby.” She said softly, and YN’s chin wobbled. “I can see their heart going, and if you look close you can see them wiggling away, which is a wonderful sign.” YN tore her eyes away from the screen to look up at Steve who was looking at the screen as if it were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his whole life.

Feeling her eyes on him, he looked down at her and grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles as tears welled in his eyes.

“YN.” He could only say and she nodded, squeezing his hand back. They didn’t have to speak to exchange what was on their minds in that moment, and Cho coughed, gaining their attention once again.

"I’m in a good place to turn on the audio if you want to hear their heartbeat?” She asked and both YN and Steve nodded vigorously. Cho pressed a button and a racing, muffled sound filled the room.

“Their heartbeat very is strong. You guys have a very healthy bean, congratulations.” Cho coiled and Steve let out a sound resembling a choked cry. He felt suddenly very weak-kneed and fell into the chair at the head of YN’s bed.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered into her hand and she looked over at him, crying with him but smiling all the same. There was a sound of a printer somewhere in the room but neither YN nor Steve could look away from the other.

“We’re having a baby.” She confirmed and he leaned forward kissing her exposed shoulder and resting his forehead there, breathing shakily as her hand combed through his thick hair.

“I’m so excited.” He mumbled and she giggled.

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad, Steve. I already know it.”

_______________________

The ultrasound pictures were going to be the only thing Steve wanted to look at for the rest of his life. The little white blob in the middle of the picture was rapidly becoming the centre of his whole universe, and there was a genuine skip in his step as he left the doctors office.

“You’re prancing.” YN teased and he stopped, spinning and smiling at his fiancee. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her around in the middle of the hallway, making her laugh loudly and clutch him.

“Stop, Steve!” She giggled, slapping his shoulder. “I’m gonna throw up, oh my gosh!”

He let her own, holding onto her waist and waiting for her to be stable. Her hands cradled his beaming face and her thumbs brushed his cheeks happily.

“We’re going to be parents.” He whispered gleefully and she nodded excitedly.

“You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.” She whispered and his eyes grew glossy once more. He stepped closer so that their toes touched and she wrapped her arms around his neck as best she could.

“Pretty Ma.” He mumbled smile fading as his eyes glanced down briefly to her lips. She licked her bottom lip nervously, and Steve tracked the movement with his eyes hungrily.

“I like that.” She whispered as his head seemed to lean down almost unconsciously. Her chin tilted up, their lips coming closer and closer to the others as more seconds passed.

“What?” He asked, voice barely louder than a breath.

“You calling me ‘ma’.” She admitted, a pretty blush reading over her nose and cheeks. He smirked, nose brushing against her own.

“You’re the cutest, Ma.” He mumbled, barely brushing his lips against hers when a voice called Steve’s name from down the hall. Steve jumped up, turning and looking at the man who interrupted their almost moment.

Sam Wilson had appeared around the corner, clad in one of his Captain suits and strutting down the hallway. YN’s jaw dropped as she peaked around Steve’s shoulder, and Sam’s eyes landed on her, a wide, gap-toothed smile spreading wide across his face.

“You must be the woman who had Steve skipping down the halls everyday!” Sam smiled as he finally got to them. He jut his hand forward for her to shake and she stepped around Steve’s side to shake it, her grip firm but her mouth still slack-jawed.

“Mr. America— I mean, Mr. Captain. Fuck, I mean-“

“Sam. Just call me Sam.” He laughed, pulling away and placing his hands on his hips.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said. “Steve honestly never shuts up about you, I’ve been wanting to meet this amazing woman who’s got him wrapped around her finger.” He teased and both YN and Steve flushed red.

“I’m afraid I’m not all that fun, lately.” She shrugged, still smiling.

“Well, I doubt that very much.” Sam smiled politely and he shook Steve’s hand. “How ya doin’, man? Haven’t seen you at all this week!”

“Yeah, actually I’ve been meaning tell all you guys something.” He said simply, and Sam’s smile softened and he nodded looking between the two people in front of him.

“FRIDAY, can you call Buck and Nat to the kitchen, please?” He called, and with a confirmation, motioned for the couple to follow him. “Anything we should be concerned about?”

Steve grabbed YN’s hand and pulled her close to him, smiling down at her as they followed behind Sam.

“I sure hope not.”

________________

After a quick round of hugs and handshakes, five people sat around the kitchen table, sipping coffee, and in YN’s case, water. She had already had her one half-cup this morning before Steve picked her up, so she thought her safest bet was to stick with water. She hoped that it would also help the swelling of her hands and feet go down.

“What’s up?” Sam asked, finally after brief catching up between the three strangers. YN, still rather shy in the presence of her greatest hero, Natasha Romanoff, only blushed under her stare and looked up at Steve. He smiled at her encouragingly and pulled the pictures from his pocket.

“So, the night I went home with YN here, we were both pretty drunk and we forgot to use the proper protective materials.” He started, wincing at his choice of his words. “We’re not really supposed to be telling people quite yet because it’s still pretty early, but YN is uh— well, she’s pregnant.” He finished choppily and the room launched into a pressing silence. YN fidgeted under the three strangers stares, not making eye contact with any of them. It was Bucky who spoke up first.

“What do you want from him, huh?” He bit and YN’s head whipped up to find his jaw was set and his stare was intense.

“Buck—“ Steve cut in, and Natasha held her hand out to Steve, telling him to hold off for a second.

“I’m curious too. Is it money? The press? What’s your motivation here?” She asked, her voice gentle, but still making YN want to curl in on herself. Sam remained silent, not willing to grill her, but genuinely curious about what she was going to say.

“Don’t answer that, YN.” Steve said, shocked and offended at his friends questions.

“It was a drunk one night stand.” YN said, looking at Steve’s friends hard and ignoring Steve saying her name in her ear. “We were both very drunk and we forgot protection. I stopped birth control because I was snapped, and I haven’t even thought to start it again because it was my honest-to-God last priority. We were both reckless, but I wouldn’t change any of it.” She said, her words growing stronger as a fire seemed to be lit in her core as she went on.

“I couldn’t care less about who Steve was. I couldn’t care less about his money— hell, I’m still trying to convince him to let me at least buy groceries. Steve is a great man who is doing more to be a part of his kids life than most other people in my situation, and for that I’m grateful and I admire him deeply for it.” She finished and Sam, Bucky and Natasha looked at her, stunned.

“We’re also getting married.” Steve mumbled quietly and his friends looked at him hard.

“Excuse me?” Bucky choked on his coffee.

“Buck— you and I both know how important it is to us to get married before starting a family.” Steve glared, his mind blown over the amount of fight he was receiving from his brother. Bucky had the decency to look half ashamed at his grilling of Steve and his apparent fiancee.

“I know it’s not a traditional way of starting a family, but if this is how it’s going to happen for us, this is how it happens.” Steve finished, dropping the ultrasound pictures on the table. Three set of eyes fell to them, and Natasha felt her eyes grow hot. She could see it— the kid. It looked like a gummy bear.

“Come on, YN. Let’s get home.” Steve grumbled and stood, snatching the pictures way from his friends sight and folding them carefully despite the rage he was feeling. He took YN’s hand in his when she stood with him, eyes brimming with tears of shame and staring at the floor as Steve turned, pulling her with him.

They were halfway down the hallway when three sets of footsteps were heard following them.

“Steve! YN! Hold on!” Natasha called, and YN stopped immediately. She turned to find all three people closer than she thought they would be and Steve turned slowly, stepping slightly in front of YN as if ready to defend her to the death.

“We’re sorry,” She said. “We were just blindsided— this happened really quickly and it was a lot of information to take in. We’re happy for you if you’re happy.” She said awkwardly, shifting her weight nervously.

“We are happy, actually. Thank you.” Steve bit, still defensive. “He’s healthy, by the way.”

“He?” Bucky whispered, looking down briefly at YN’s stomach which was hidden beneath many many layers of clothes Steve made her wear.

“We uh— we don’t know what it is yet. Steve just wants it to be a boy.” YN mumbled, pulling her jacket closed protectively.

“Oh.” Bucky finished quietly and YN nodded awkwardly.

“We’re just protective of Steve.” Piped Sam. “He’s been through enough heartbreak and he’s been deceived enough that we were just looking out for him. We kind of like him, you know.” He joked and YN smirked a little bit, softening around the edges.

“That’s fair enough. I can see the risk there, but I’ll have you know that I grew up just as poor as he did. I’ve grown up not relying on money and was fully expecting to raise my kid the same way my parents did, but I’ve been blessed, apparently.” She started looking up at Steve with shining eyes. He looked down at her, mimicking her expression and His friends all shifted, feeing as if they were intruding on some private moment. “And I kind of like him too, obviously.” She joked patting her stomach and laughing. “I don’t think I could hurt this puppy even if I wanted to.”

“Hey,” Steve whispered, voice grumbly as he faked offence. “I’m a big, scary man, thank you very much.”

“Just about as scary as a hedgehog, Rogers.” She bit back and he wrinkled his nose at her, making her smile softly.

“We’re sorry for judging you.” Natasha said, vocalizing their thoughts. Sam nodded more obviously than Bucky who was the most protective over Steve, still watching her cautiously.

“All is forgiven.” YN replied and Natasha smiled kindly.

“Have you uh— have you started planning the wedding?” She asked and YN shook her head. “I can do it, if you want.”

“I could never ask you to do that, Ms. Romanoff.” YN protested and Natasha smiled at her politeness.

“You’re not asking. And it’s Nat— you’re family now.” She smiled and YN felt here eyes well with more tears. YN coughed into her fist to subdue the sob growing in her throat. “Seriously. Focus on each other and the baby and I’ll get in touch with you when I need your guys’ opinion and for fittings, okay?”

“Are you sure, Nat?” Steve piped up finally and she smiled widely at him and shrugged.

“How hard could it be to plan a wedding, huh?”

_________________________

The drive home was quiet— the low rumble of Steve’s jaguar was hardly enough background noise, and YN had shut off the radio due to every station playing ‘Silent Night’ at the same time. Steve was tense the whole way home, seemingly focussed on the road.

The ride up to his penthouse was quiet too, Steve staring at his shoes and unlocking the door quietly, taking YN’s jacket off her shoulders as well as her hat and scarf and mittens, shoving them in her sleeve before hanging it on the coatrack.

Before he even took his own coat off, he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sorry about today,” He whispered and she sighed, wrapping her own arms around his slim waist and resting her cheek on his heartbeat.

“’S okay. Wasn’t expecting too much of a warm welcome, anyways.” She whispered and he squeezed her tighter.

“Still not fair, though. They shouldn’t have judged us the way they did.”

“They didn’t judge. They’re rightfully protective of you, Steve. You’ve been blessed with beautiful friends who care and have also saved the world too many times.” She propped her chin on his chest and he looked down at her, swaying her lightly from side to side.

“I liked Natasha, though. It was nice of her to take the wedding off our hands.” She whispered and he nodded, rubbing her back and making her sigh happily.

“She’s gotten soft, honestly.” He smiled and YN giggled, pressing her ear back to his chest.

“Wouldn’t want to see her hard, then.” YN replied and they swayed gently in the foyer of Steve’s not-apartment for a few quit moments and he buried his nose in her hair. The couple spun slowly, illuminated barely by the lights from Steve’s Christmas tree in the middle of one of the floor to ceiling windows.

“We’re having a baby.” He whispered finally. He thought that if he said it more, it would finally feel real, but the words still felt foreign on his tongue.

“We are having a baby.” She confirmed and she sighed happily when he held her tighter, and sniffed. “Hey. No tears. I’m the emotional pregnant one here.” She joked and he sniffled again.

“Sorry, I just— I’m so happy, YN. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” He confessed and her heart swelled.

“I’m happy too, Steve. Thank you for being in my life.” She whispered, still swaying with him in the doorway. Maybe the winter holidays were really magical.

_______________________

Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose / laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot / vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema / mmyepic / multifandommandy / tommyhoe / lostdarksoul6 / crist1216 / taeeemin / jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory / feelmyroarrrr

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers series #Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #Dad!Steve #dad!steve rogers

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dragons-bones · 4 years

Text

FFXIV: Pearls of Wisdom

A/N: This opening sentence has lived in my head for over three years, and now I finally release it unto the world.

Don’t be drinking anything, friends, this is seventy-five percent Rereha POV, which means irreverence is now in full effect and the concept of “being serious” has been chucked directly out the window.

Please enjoy!

RATING: T/PG-13 Word Count: 5,335 Cross-posted to AO3

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Rereha threw open the doors to Aymeric’s office, shite-eating grin firmly plastered on her face as she skipped inside, and sang out, “Congratulations! It’s twins!”

Two things happened.

First, as soon as the doors opened, but before Rereha even opened her mouth, Lucia, she of finely honed Frumentarium instincts and years of friendship with a lalafell infamous across the realm for her Theatrics and Shenanigans, reached out and yanked the multitude of reports on the desk in front of Aymeric out of the way.

Second, Aymeric, who had been taking a sip of tea at the exact moment Rereha entered the office, choked and spat out said tea across his desk—and where all of the paperwork had once been not even a second before—in the most glorious spit take Rereha had ever engendered. A tiny part of her was saddened at the waste of perfectly good tea, but, wow, that had been spectacular. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and came to a stop in the middle of the office, grin widening to manic levels.

Lucia pounded Aymeric on the back between his shoulder blades as he coughed and sputtered, stopping only when the Lord Commander wheezed out, wide-eyed, voice high-pitched and halfway to a full-blown panic, “WHAT?!”

Rereha clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back on her heels. “You heard me,” she said, sing-song.

He wheezed again, wordlessly this time, and stared at her with huge blue eyes as all the color slowly drained from his face. He opened his mouth, but only a strangled croak emerged. The grip on his teacup slackened, and Lucia hurriedly whisked it out of his hands and set it aside as she narrowed her eyes at Rereha, one blonde brow slowly ticking upwards.

Really? That expression said.

…All right, perhaps she could have phrased it a little differently to the man who was the bastard son of the last archbishop. Oh, well. She had committed to it, no time to backtrack.

Especially since Synnove had finally arrived, having been forced to take the stairs when Rereha commandeered the elevator up to the Lord Commander’s Seat to beat her there.

Her friend pelted into the office at full tilt, wearing an even wider, more manic grin than Rereha herself was sporting, Galette determinedly hanging onto her left shoulder and Ivar dangling from her right. She was still dressed for the cozy, well-insulated confines of the Arcanists’ Guild offices and laboratories rather than winter, never mind the everwinter of Coerthas: cotton shirt in storm grey under an unbuttoned deep green waistcoat, black slops rolled up to the knees, strappy sandals, everything wrinkled to the seven hells and back because she had been living out of her office for a sennight (again). The bags under her gleaming green eyes were dark and huge, and the thick plait of hair down to her waist was nearly half undone and ghostly-hued from constantly running her chalk-covered hands through it.

Synnove was a godsdamned mess, but for all that her grin was dangerously manic, her overall expression was radiant, easily able to outshine the sun.

The Highlander swerved around Rereha to smack first into Lucia. The Garlean yelped in surprise as Synnove lifted her off her feet in a bear hug, no small feat considering Lucia was taller by a few ilms and also wearing full formal plate. (Galette headbutted Lucia sympathetically.) Synnove set her down again and gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek—Lucia blinked rapidly, too stunned to respond as she stumbled and recovered her balance—and then turned her attention to Aymeric.

She did a brief twirl on the ball of her right foot—the carbuncles made distressed noises at this: Mommy, please stop with the spinning/Mama, nooooo not again—and came to a stop next to Aymeric, grinning down at him like a lunatic. He briefly glanced at her (flat) stomach, then up at her beaming face, mouth working soundlessly as he tried to regain his ability to speak. Before he could manage that, however, Synnove grasped his face in her hands and swooped down to kiss him. Aymeric flailed helplessly for a moment in shock, then gripped her elbows and went limp and—wow.

Lucia coughed and glanced away and up, finding a particular spot on the ceiling of great interest, a light blush on her cheeks, while both Galette and Ivar recoiled and loudly gagged. Rereha wolf-whistled and applauded, impressed but also surprised. Godsdamn, Synnove. That officially outdid every filthy kiss described in any of the trashy romance novels Rereha had ever read, and she had read a lot of trashy romance novels in her life.

(Also, if she was focusing on that, she wasn’t focusing on her sister-by-choice with said sister-by-choice’s tongue down her lover’s throat, ugh ew ew ew grosssssss.)

Synnove drew back, leaving Aymeric stunned and breathless and gaping like a fish at her as she did another, more energetic twirl. (Lucia ducked around Aymeric’s chair to the other side of the desk to avoid getting smacked by flying carbuncle tails, or potentially flying carbuncles as they struggled to hold on and whined in protest.) She raised her arms, shouting, “I’m a fucking GENIUS!”

“Oh, Fury’s spear,” Lucia said in exasperation, “which laws of reality did you break this time?”

“Not broken,” Synnove replied cheerfully, “just bent!”

Rereha meandered over to the desk and stood up on tiptoe to grasp the edge. With a small grunt of effort, she pulled herself up and clambered onto the desktop, momentarily sprawling on her back and ignoring Lucia’s angry hiss as she disturbed the piled-up paperwork. “Our darling Synnove,” said Rereha primly, lacing her fingers together across her stomach, “has had a breakthrough on her artificial aetheric gemstone infusion process.”

“I’m a fucking genius,” Synnove said again, sing-song. “But I did have a little help…”

---

Synnove dropped into her chair with a soft groan of relief, shaking off her boots and kicking them into the space beneath her desk. She had made it back to Mealvaan’s Gate just in time to assist with getting all the storm shutters closed before the nor’wester hit Limsa Lominsa, and the wind now howled as it pushed through the city, so strong it was raining sideways. The skywatchers were reporting the storm would last another day, possibly two, and if the temperature kept dropping, they might even see a proper snowfall on Vylbrand for the first time in ten years. The Admiral had ordered the city shut down earlier in the day in advance of the storm, the harbor closed, and Limsa Lominsa had been eerily still as her citizens battened down the figurative hatches and got under cover.

The Gate was one of the best places to weather a storm, so Synnove would be camping in her office and living out of the mess hall, the same as many of the other arcanists who had homes outside the city and hadn’t been able to safely leave before the nor’wester struck. Her office at the top of the northeast tower was well-insulated, the Guild larders were well-stocked, and she had a freshly laundered pile of pillows and blankets with which to turn her couch into a nest or pillow fort. And, most importantly: she had treats.

She grinned and dragged the pastry box sitting at the corner of her desk towards herself. The second box full of goodies from her favorite Ala Mhigan café was safely stashed in a locked coldbox, and Galette’s phase-shift functionality disabled, so that box should hopefully last the remainder of the storm. Meanwhile, the carbuncles were enjoying their individual spoils from this first box: Galette was face down in a huge bowl of rose water malabi; Tyr’s muzzle was rapidly being stained purple by his blueberry papanaşi; and Ivar had an entire tray of Grisheld Reeve’s cinnamon and dragon pepper baklava all to himself.

Synnove wiggled her fingers in delight and opened the box, carefully removing the four squares of amandina cake that were alllllll for her and setting them on a clean plate fetched from beneath a pile of paperwork. She rummaged up a fork from one of her desk drawers, and was almost about ready to settle in. Now she just needed reading material.

She reached out to another corner of her desk, hooking her fingers over the edge of a wooden box full of tomestones and pulling it over. The box was neatly divided into sections for different types and she tapped her finger against the box’s rim as she considered the selection. There were the old standbys, full of compiled data on a random assortment of topics ranging from mathematics to gemology, but… Hm, no, something new. Lucia had, for Starlight, gifted her a set of tomestones one of her contacts had, ah, liberated from the laboratory of some chief engineer of one of the Garlean legions, Synnove couldn’t remember which one. Surely there was something on one of those that would pique her interest.

Lucia’s gifts weren’t on the top tray in the box, however, and Synnove lifted it to check the bottom one. Not those, nor those, but—ahah! There they were. She fished out three, set them aside, switched the trays so the bottom one was now on top, and dug out her tablet with the tome reader port from under another stack of papers.

(Perhaps she should do her paperwork instead?

…Nah.)

She clicked one of the tomestones into the port on her tablet and let the translation program run that would turn Old Allagan into a horrifying hodgepodge of Eorzean, Garlean, and Hannish for her to muddle through without needing two separate dictionaries and three grammar primers. (The Echo was useful most of the time, but it was absolute shite at turning highly technical Allagan textbooks into only equally highly technical Eorzean. Better to just read the things in the three scientific languages she knew to which the translator could find an accurate match somewhere.) As the program ran, Synnove resettled herself in her chair to sit cross-legged, and cut off a bite from one of the amandina squares with her fork to pop into her mouth.

Synnove closed her eyes and hummed as she slowly chewed. Mmmm. Layers of rich chocolate buttercream sandwiched between chocolate sponge that had been gently soaked in a caramel-rum syrup, all covered in a layer of almost ganache-like chocolate fondant. Auntie’s version used almond buttercream, but the Reeves’ version was just as good.

As she savored a second bite, her tome reader chimed a cheery little ditty—duhna na na na na na na-nana!—that Rereha had somehow managed to program into it, signaling that the tomestone had been fully translated. Synnove swallowed her cake and picked up the reader, thumbing to the menu.

The Journal of Mathematical Physics, volumes 101-200, from the Meracydian Institute of Physics.

Synnove gasped in delight and hugged her tablet. “Oh, fuck yes. Lucia, you are my new favorite person.”

The next few hours passed by quickly: reading the articles in each journal, occasionally gloating at realizing she or one of her colleagues had figured out a matter that had puzzled the ancient Allagans or frowning thoughtfully at new concepts and taking notes; nibbling intermittently on her cakes, rather than eating immediately one after another, so they lasted longer; breaking from reading, spine cracking unpleasantly from sitting hunched over for so long, to first clean her carbuncles’ faces of sticky sweets, then to head down to the mess for dinner; and finally cozying up on her couch in a nest of pillows with her tablet to continue reading, Tyr cuddling against her right hip and Galette and Ivar burrowing into her left. The last amandina cake was balanced on a plate on the back of the couch next to her head and the lights all turned on, casting a warm glow throughout her office, the arched gable of the tower ceiling lost in shadow.

Synnove hummed thoughtfully as she skimmed through volumes 144 and 145 of the journal. As with all academic treatises, some scientists were better writers than others, and the past few volumes of the journal hadn’t been bad, just…not very engaging. She flicked back to the menu and selected the table of contents for volume 146.

No, no, no, emphatically no, n—wait, yes. Yes, Roksana Blackspark, she had written a few articles in this collection of journals that were entertaining, informative, and thought-provoking; at least half the notes she had scribbled out were because of her. Shame she wasn’t as prolific as some of her colleagues, but that always seemed to be the case with the genuinely talented ones. And this article seemed especially promising: mapping aetheric polarity for spell customization.

She had the sneaking suspicion that sharing this one with the rest of the Guild would lead to some truly spectacular explosions.

Snuggling down into the cuddle pile with a gleeful chortle, Synnove reached for her plate of amandina, setting it down in her lap. (Galette’s nose twitched in her sleep, but she was too cozy and too full to properly awaken to investigate the sugar less than a fulm away.) Cake easily at hand, she began reading, picking up her fork without looking and cutting off another bite to eat.

Synnove was halfway through her cake when her face and hands went slack, fork and tablet both nearly dropping, and her jaw falling open as she stared at the tablet screen.

…What.

While the astral-aspected elements fire and wind have proven to be remarkably stable in self-maintaining neutral polarity, levin frequently skews too far towards astral—or even umbral, in rare cases—to be reliable at high voltages beyond explosive thaumaturgical uses. A similar problem exists with water and ice, which frequently skews too far to umbral, whereas earth aether will achieve polar equilibrium on its own.

The following equations take this lack of natural equilibrium into account when stabilization is required…

What.

“What the fuck,” Synnove said softly as she read, feeling as if she had been clubbed over the head by a gigas’s club. The equations bore a passing resemblance to classical aetheromagnetic theorems on polarization density, except completely turned on its head.

There was no way the problem with her aetheric infusion project was that simple. Swiving aetheric polarization. No. Swiving. Way.

And yet…

It was one of the most basic principles of magic, not just arcanima: astral elements and umbral elements. It was such an accepted, unquestioned foundation that she had never even considered that the three elements most commonly used by arcanists for their carbuncles were not all the same primary polarity. Every element could manifest as either polarity, but Roksana Blackspark was correct, now that Synnove properly thought about it: wind, earth, and fire were much, much more likely to be found in a stable state. Even the Guild’s enormous aether batteries, all the way down in subbasement twelve, had been initially tricky to install until they found the right combination of overgrown elemental clusters, with most of the problems coming from the water, ice, and levin clusters.

Of course trying to infuse any sort of gem with those three elements specifically was going to fail, they were fucking overaspected to astral or umbral. The equations didn’t fucking work as they should because they were built to account for elements that naturally occurred in stable states, and so the infusions fizzled and the gemstones cracked and no carbuncles could manifest.

But.

But if she did account for instability, or, in fact, deliberately found crystals with which to infuse gems that were of opposite polarities so that the final infusion was stable…

A new thought made itself known, and Synnove stuffed the rest of her cake in her mouth, set the plate and fork aside, bookmarked her spot in the journal, and opened up the note taking program, yanking the stylus from the side of the case. As she chewed, she began scribbling in frantic shorthand. Perhaps in addition to ensuring stable aetheric polarity, she could also try infusion over time as well? Even when artificially infusing emeralds, topazes, and rubies, the stones still cracked every one time out of eight. Certainly, working with water, levin, and ice aether would benefit from a slower infusion speed, as it would allow her to keep a better eye on maintaining polar equilibrium, and if that issue was what was affecting the failures for wind, earth, and fire, then that would be two problems solved.

…Perhaps three, Synnove sucking in a deep breath and her heart pounding as she wrote. A proper balance of aetheric polarization combined with a slow enough infusion potentially meant that she could, theoretically, infuse any precious stone she desired, not just ones with a specific hardness and durability. Of course, the equations would need to be further adjusted to take into account the specific chemical properties of the specific gems and how they would need to interact with different elemental aether, but that, while difficult and tedious, was still doable.

Synnove began to vibrate with excitement and she let herself indulge in a wide, half-mad grin.

---

“Obviously I didn’t come up with the correct solutions immediately,” Synnove said, practically buzzing as she finished explaining, “but Roksana Blackspark’s equations proved an excellent starting point. And it WORKED!” She threw her arms up in the air again—Galette and Ivar groaned, once more nearly losing their grip—and danced in place, cackling.

Aymeric was slowly beginning to regain his color, though he was still a bit wide about the eyes and generally poleaxed in appearance. Lucia, not having had the shock of her life nor been snogged until her brain was a puddle, tilted her head thoughtfully, a smile slowly beginning to grow across her features. “And what,” she said, excitement coloring her voice, “did you use as a gemstone for proof of concept?”

“Gemstones,” said Synnove with unmistakable glee. She pulled up the left sleeve of her shirt and thrust her arm out towards Lucia, hand bent upwards. On her wrist, almost glowing against her bronze skin and the green aetheric ink of her tattoos, was the thin braided leather bracelet on which she kept the emerald, topaz, and ruby that were the foci from where Galette, Tyr, and Ivar manifested.

Two new additions hung from the well-worn braid: a pair of truly massive pearls, each perfectly spherical and equal in shape and size to one another, as big as the first phalange of Synnove’s thumb. One was black, with a gorgeous purple iridescence; the second was white with a lovely overtone of sky blue.

In showing off the pearls to Lucia, Synnove had inadvertently positioned her wrist almost directly in front of Aymeric’s face. He finally shook himself to full awareness, crossing his eyes to stare at the bracelet. He said, “Are those the pearls I gave you for Starlight?”

“Yes, they are!” Synnove chirped. “I hadn’t yet decided how I wanted to use them, and considering the oddity of their creation, I wondered if infusing them at the same time might produce interesting results.” She giggled in delight. “And it did!”

Rereha knew the pearls quite well: they had originally been in her mother’s collection before Shushuha sold them to Aymeric (at a friends and family discount, of course). They were properly twin pearls, found in the same giant clam at the estuary of the White Maiden where it emptied into the Strait of Merlthor at the Yafaem Saltmoor. They had a very odd aetheric signature, per Mama’s description (not quite water-aspected, not quite levin), and were unable to be separated more than six ilms before one or the other would…blink back to the side of its sibling. And the clam itself had been the only one still living in the bed: half of the clams in the bed, based on the decay reported from the divers who found the pearls, had been killed from ceruleum poisoning, runoff from the Battle of Silvertear Skies, and the other half had been warped beyond all recognition into the sickly orange crystal growths left by wild aether from the Calamity.

Mama hadn’t been able to sell the pair, no interested buyers in all the years she owned them. Ill luck pearls, supposedly. But Rereha had mentioned them off-handedly to Aymeric while he had been bouncing Starlight gift ideas for Synnove off her and Heron, and he had lit up at the description of them. Synnove, he reasoned, would be delighted by a pair of aetherically strange pearls, even if she couldn’t find an immediate use for them.

(He had been absolutely correct, too; Synnove had shoved the box containing the pearls under nearly everyone’s nose to show them off, squealing in excitement about how Aymeric had gotten them for her and let me tell you the story about them—)

“Twin carbuncles!” Synnove cheered. “I had to infuse them at the same time, so they each contain levin and water aether, but the black pearl absorbs levin more readily, and the white pearl more water.”

“So,” Aymeric said hesitantly, a hint of relief in his voice, “you aren’t pregnant, then?”

“What?” said Synnove, rearing back with a frown. “No! Why would—” She went from confused to unamused in a heartbeat and turned her head to level a poisonous glare on a certain lalafell. “REREHA.”

Ooooh, reverb. But not, I’m going to toss you from the top of the Mizzenmast and into the harbor, levels of reverb. More like, I’m not sharing any of Aunt Angharad’s treats with you.

Rereha shrugged and grinned at her, fairly confidently she wasn’t going to be grievously injured today and that if she was denied Ala Mhigan treats, she could just go to the source of them and make big, sad eyes until Angharad Greywolfe caved. “It’s me,” she said. “Since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to make the obvious joke?”

Synnove gave her a last, vicious look, before turning back to Aymeric with a smile. The elezen had his hand over his mouth, trying and failing to stifle his chuckle.

“Would you like to meet them?” Synnove asked.

“It would be my honor, my love,” Aymeric said fondly, Lucia nodding in agreement beside him.

The arcanist clapped in excitement, spinning on the ball of her foot (Galette and Ivar shrieked and scrambled to hold on), calling out, “Tyr!” and peering down—and stopped, frowning, at the lack of enormous topaz carbuncle by her side. She looked around quizzically. “Where’s Tyr?”

A muffled boof echoed down the hall, from the direction of the Congregation’s lift. Coming, Mama!

Synnove relaxed, bouncing on her toes, ignoring the upset whining of her other two carbuncles trying to stay on her shoulders. Rereha snickered and sat upright, settling herself to sit cross-legged on the edge of Aymeric’s desk.

A few moments later, Tyr trotted into the office, carrying a wicker basket in his mouth. Sorry, Mama, he warbled around the handle. He came right up to Synnove and sat down at her feet. I didn’t want to jostle the babies and had to wait for the lift.

“Aww, you’re such a good big brother,” Synnove cooed, leaning down to scratch behind his ears. Galette and Ivar rolled their eyes and muttered about mama’s boy while Tyr boofed happily, ignoring the two. While Synnove didn’t say anything, she did exaggeratedly shrug her shoulders, jostling her troublemakers; Galette and Ivar yelped, but subsided.

She took the basket from Tyr—who, free of his burden, gave a deep, brassy maow! of hello to Aymeric and Lucia—and set it down in front of Aymeric. “Ready to meet everyone, sweethearts?” she said, sing-song, leaning over the container. (Galette and Ivar used the opportunity to scramble fully onto her shoulders; Galette sat primly, carefully balanced, while Ivar flopped on his belly so he was draped over his perch.)

Two excited cheeps came from inside the basket, only slightly muffled by the wicker. Yeah!

Synnove removed the basket’s lid with a flourish.

A soft green blanket was immediately revealed, under which two forms wriggled. Two little noses poked from beneath the cloth, twitching as the carbuncles to which they were attached scented the air. Then, peeping in excitement, they burst out into the open, pulling themselves up to stand braced on the rim of the basket. HI!

Rereha had, of course, already seen them, but she couldn’t help clasping her hands together and turning into a lump of lalafell mush, even as Lucia gasped in delight and Aymeric visibly melted. The baby carbuncles—and she needed to come up with a cute moniker for that concept; carbunkit? Carbunclet?—were tiny, just big enough for each one to sit comfortably in Synnove’s hands when she cupped them together. They were round and squishy, like a cross between oversized marshmallows and Heavensturn mochi, their legs still stubby and paws itty-bitty, and had yet to grow into their ears and tails: the former were as long as their bodies, and the fluffy trios of the latter as big as the rest of their bodies.

And they weren’t just cute, they were pretty. One was a fathomless black, like the inky depths of the ocean, but as its fur caught the light, it iridesced with an amethyst overlay. The other was the pure, perfect white of midsummer clouds, with the winter sunlight streaming into the office drawing out flashes of blue. The only other spot of color on either was the traditional red triangle cap between their ears and above their huge black eyes.

The twins trilled another high-pitched greeting. HIIIIIIIII!

Synnove, beaming fit to burst, said, “Aymeric, Lucia, I’d like you to meet Amandina and Roksana.” She gently booped the black carbuncle first, then the white one, right between their ears. Amandina wiggled her ears, squinting her eyes closed happily, and Roksana tilted her head back to yip a quick hi mommy! before turning her attention back to the people in front of her and her sister, excitedly waving a paw.

“Roksana, I can understand, but Amandina?” Aymeric laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shush, you, there’s precedent,” Synnove snarked back and jerked her thumb at Galette, who puffed out her chest in response. “It’s not as if it’s a well-known Abalathian dessert, either, I can get away with another dessert-named carbuncle.”

Rereha leaned over to stage whisper, “And she would have named Roksana ‘Lucia,’ but in Gyr Abania, it’s bad luck to name someone after a person who’s still among the living.”

Synnove nodded, smiling, even as Lucia blushed with pleasure and said wonderingly, “They’re so small.”

“That’s intentional,” said Synnove, petting the carbunclets (Rereha liked that term best so far) again. They both emitted squeaky purrs, still learning how to make the sound. “The aether infusion needs to be very slow to prevent damage to their pearls, so they currently have just enough to manifest. I’ve put in a request for more water and levin crystals acquired from elemental sprites, but it will be a while before I have the requisite amounts to get them to full size, never mind be combat capable. So, for now: baby carbuncles!”

The twins cheered.

Rereha muttered under her breath, “Carefully programmed to be actual hypothetical carbuncle babies, not just carbuncles in miniature…”

Synnove reached out to attempt to smack her upside the head. Rereha, however, using the knowledge acquired from twenty plus years of friendship, rolled backwards off the desk, catching herself on the edge with both hands as Synnove’s arm whiffed through empty air, then pulled herself back up onto her perch with a smug grin. Aymeric coughed to disguise his laugh while all five carbuncles giggled. Synnove huffed and rolled her eyes, but a smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“And now for the rest of the introductions…” Synnove pointed to Lucia, whose expression had steadily become more and more besotted the longer she stared at the tiny carbuncles in their basket. (Reasonable: the babies were obscenely adorable.) “This,” Synnove said to the twins, “is Lucia! She gave me the tomestone that ultimately helped my breakthrough on aetheric infusion.”

Amandina and Roksana cheered again, tapping their paws excitedly on the edge of the basket. HI, AUNT LUCIA!

Lucia made the tiniest, girliest squeal Rereha had ever heard, not just from the woman in question, but ever period. “Oh, hello, sweethearts,” she cooed. She took off one of her gauntlets and held her bare hand out to them; they immediately headbutted her fingers, cheeping happily, and she smiled so hard her face must have hurt as she gently pet first Roksana, then Amandina. “Aren’t you just the most precious darlings.”

The twins preened as Synnove chuckled and gently stroked them between their ears. “And this,” she continued, pointing to the Lord Commander, the babies obediently swiveling their heads to follow, “is Aymeric! He’s the one who gave me your pearls.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Amandina, Miss Roksana,” Aymeric said, at his most charmingly formal as he smiled down at them.

The babies blinked up at the elezen. Tilted their heads back to look at Synnove. Looked back up at Aymeric. Back at their mama. Up at Aymeric. Looked at each other.

Rereha would swear up, down, and sideways that in the split-second they exchanged glances, those two suddenly wore expressions that could out-do Galette while channeling her Garuda-egi subprogramming at her most demonically mischievous. Galette herself peered down at the pair, perturbed, one ear cocked upright and the other sideways in a perfect ninety-degree angle, while Ivar narrowed his eyes suspiciously at them. Tyr burbled a questioning little maow.

The twins turned back to Aymeric, their faces all sweetness and light once more, and chirped, in chorus, HI, PAPA!

Lucia and Rereha, in unintentional unison, slapped their hands over their own mouths, staring first at the baby carbuncles, before slowing turning to look at Synnove and Aymeric. Synnove and Aymeric, meanwhile, both froze, their minds clearly screeching to a near-audible halt, smiles still locked in place but their eyes widening to almost impossible proportions in shock. Deep, fluorescent blushes crawled up both their faces; Aymeric’s ears practically glowed. Amandina and Roksana started bouncing up and down excitedly, shaking the basket, their ears wiggling and tails twitching, while their delighted yipping chant of hi papa hi papa hi papa hi papa echoed through the office and probably down the corridor.

Ivar made an absolutely disgusted noise, covering his ears with his paws in an attempt to drown out his baby sisters. Galette and Tyr, meanwhile, exchanged a very thoughtful look. Galette flicked an ear. Tyr nodded.

Then they, too, swiveled their heads to look at Aymeric, and proceeded to join the chanting with unrepentant glee: Hi, Papa!

Ivar groaned. No. No, I refuse. His siblings all ignored him, simply chanted louder.

Synnove and Aymeric were flushed so red it was beginning to appear painful. Aymeric made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he dragged his gaze upward to meet Synnove’s. Synnove opened her mouth to say something, jaw working furiously, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak.

Rereha and Lucia made the mistake of glancing at one another out of the corners of their eyes. As soon as their eyes met, they both broke, Lucia sputtering and snorting, bringing her other, still-gauntleted hand up to her face in an attempt to muffle the sound of her undignified laughter. Rereha, of course, had never had any dignity, and just threw back her head to ugly cackle like a hyena.

Finally, Aymeric managed words, strained as they were—but with the shock was mixed equal parts delighted laughter and joy: “You’re the one who breaks the news about this to your aunt.”

Synnove squeaked again.

Rereha cackled harder.

And the carbuncles—sans Ivar, still moaning in disgust—kept chanting, Hi, Papa!

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #lucia goe junius #oc: rereha reha #oc: synnove greywolfe #synnove's carbuncles #dt's writing #IT'S DONE #HALLELUJAH

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