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vincent-frankenstein · 4 years

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41: “You did all of this for me?” With Moceit plz?

Summary: Deceit loves getting sick. He loves having to lock himself away in his room to protect his reputation, to protect himself from being coddled. He can’t let the others see him in such a state. But then they find out, and Patton won’t let him ride it out alone.

Warnings: sickness, weakness, Banter and teasing, sympathetic deceit

Pairing: moceit with like, background familial dlamp

@figurative-siren-song uwu

Deceit just loved being sick.

Really, it was such fun! It involved all of his favoritepastimes — such as being unable to leave his bed for days on end, and coughingup a lung every time he tried to speak, and sneezing his goddamn brains out every five minutes. He could think of no grander way tospend his time lying curled up in bed, trying to force his stomach to staywhere it belonged.

And the added bonus of being completely and utterly trapped? Well, that wasjust the cherry-on-top.

Obviously, he could let the others see him like this. Such glaringsigns of weakness would never be used to his disadvantage! Why, they'dprobably drop everything to care for him, to nurse him back to health like the"family" they claimed to be!

Not.

He sneered, glaring balefully at the cup of tea on his desk. It hadlong since gone cold, but he couldn't risk going out to get a new one. It wastimes like this where he almost wished things could go back to how they used to be;at least then he'd have access to the old kitchen, the one in the Others' partof the mindscape, where he knew he wouldn't be seen. There could be any numberof sides waiting for him in their newer, grayer commons, and the thought ofanyone seeing him in such a state made his stomach churn.

Besides, he doubted he'd survive such an encounter. With how his head ached,one boisterous laugh from Roman or offended screech from Logan would be enoughto kill him. He wasn't too keen on the idea of dying. Surpringing, Iknow, from the embodiment of self-preservation.

But he was hardly needy. He could handle a few days on his own. He greetedhis solitude with open arms, and —

Oh no.

He barely had a moment to hiss a panicked curse before the bed dropped outfrom under him and he was tugged down-sideways-up until the living room floorrose up to meet his feet. He staggered, pressing his hand over his mouth andstumbling into the banister.

"Deceit?" Oh. Good, good, good. That was Patton's voice.He could hear Logan shifting beside him. He was in the commons, how fun! Definitely not a terrifying prospect. "Are you okay,kiddo?"

He shifted against the stairs until he was leaning nonchalantly, and crossedhis arms, lifting an eyebrow. "Of course not," he said, digging hisfingernails into his arm to keep from coughing. He was met with four confused,disbelieving stares.

"I've got a more important question," Roman declared. "Arethose Scooby-Doo pajamas?"

Deceit's nose twitched with annoyance. "...No."

"They totally are!" Roman's laughter was like tiny explosionsagainst Deceit's aching eardrums. It took everything in him to not wince.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to have leisure clothes,"Deceit snapped. "You have oh-so-much room to judge, Roman, in thatsale-rack Halloween costume of yours."

If Roman's laughter was tiny explosions, his offended squawking was likeshoving a bazooka into Deceit's ear and firing. "'Sale-rack Halloween costume?'"he repeated, one hand clutched against his chest. "How dare you?!Do you have any idea how much effort I put into this outfit?! Weeksspent planning and sewing —"

"Falsehood," Logan cut in, raising an eyebrow. "You told meyourself you simply conjured it up on a whim."

"Wh — but — okay, but, the emotional effort —"

"Now, now, kiddos, let's not fight, okay?" Patton said, holding uphis hands placatingly. "Roman, your outfit is lovely. And Dee, yourpajamas are super cute!"

Deceit blinked. "...Thanks," he said drily, to which Pattonbeamed, completely genuine. "Alright, can we get to whatever dilemma youneed my help with? I wasn't in the middle of something."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure your midday nap is way more important thanhelping Thomas," Virgil said with a roll of his eyes. Deceit opened hismouth to retort, but Logan lifted a hand.

"Enough," he said evenly. "Deceit, I assume you're aware ofthe surprise party that Thomas plans to throw for Joan's birthday nextweek?"

"What? No!" Deceit placed a hand against his chest,feigning surprise. "Why would I know about that? It's not like I suggestedit!"

Logan continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Thomas is about to spend aprolonged amount of time with Joan to brainstorm ideas for the channel. We needyou to, ah —"

"Keep his mouth shut," Deceit finished, and Logan nodded."Well, as fun as that sounds, I do believe I'll have to pass."

"What? Why?"

Because his legs had begun to shake, and he doubted he could stay uprightfor much longer. Because his throat ached and twinged with every word out ofhis mouth. Because his head pounded, black spots dancing in front of his eyes,and he just wanted to sleep, goddamnit.

"I have some personal business to attend to," he said simply.

Virgil huffed. "'Personal business?'" he repeated, raising aneyebrow.

"Yes. I'm afraid I must nunya," Deceit said.

Patton's eyebrows furrowed. "What's 'nunya?'"

"Nunya business," Deceit said. He shoved away from the banisterand drew himself to his full height. "Roman is more than capable of comingup with excuses for our dear boy Thomas. Now, if you'll excuse me —"

"Hold on, you expect me to do your job for you? After you insulted myprecious outfit! Ha! Fat chance, Lyin' King!" Roman declared,setting his hands on his hips.

"Technically, you insulted his outfit first," Logan said. He dugaround in his pocket for a moment, drawing out an index card. "'Nocap.'"

"Well, yeah, of course there's no cap!" Patton said, a smilegrowing on his face. "Dee's not wearin' his hat!"

Logan's groan was like stepping on a landmine. Deceit couldn't help butwince, pain wracking through his skull, pressure building inside his forehead.Black spots danced before his eyes. When the world slotted back into placearound him he found every eye in the room on him, and he shifted beneath thesearchlights, eyes narrowing.

"You don't look very okay, kiddo," Patton said, with concern inhis eyes. Deceit's nose twitched.

"I assure you, I am fine —"

"Yeah, bullshit," Virgil said. "You look like shit. Well,shittier than usual."

"How kind of you to say, Virgil," Deceit said, with a roll of hiseyes. "I must say, you're looking quite shitty yourself, as usual."

Virgil hissed — and Deceit made the ultimate mistake of hissing back. Thecoughing fit that followed had him wheezing for breath, tears building in hiseyes, and when it finally subsided he was met with the worst punishment of all:pity.

"Oh, honey... you're sick," Patton said softly.

"Well, now the pajamas make sense!" Roman said, nodding tohimself, as if that was the most important aspect of their conversation. Deceittook a step back, eyes narrowing.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he said, voice ragged. "It definitelymatters."

"Yes, it does," Logan said. "As metaphysical beings, we areincapable of dying, but that doesn't mean we can't get sick. Any illnesses wedo manage to catch should be treated properly, lest they become worse."

"Gee, sure wish I'd thought of that!" Deceit said, in ahigh-pitched tone that made his throat ache. "Oh, wait, I did. I wasresting before you all decided to drag me out here!"

Logan blinked. "'My bad,'" he said awkwardly, pulling out a vocabcard.

"Yeah, if I had known you were sick, I never would have made fun ofyou," Roman said, and to his credit, he did look genuinely apologetic."Your pajamas are quite becoming."

Deceit yanked his shirt into place and rolled his eyes. "Thank you,Roman," he said, only half sarcastic. At Roman's pressing stare, hesighed. "Your outfit is ridiculously ugly as well."

"Hey! Oh — wait, thanks!"

"Now am I allowed to go rest?"

"Of course." Logan straightened his tie and nodded. "Myapologies for dragging you into this, Deceit."

"I don't accept your apology." Finally he was free to sinkdown, and he did so with great relief, collapsing onto his bed with anexhausted sigh. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pretended like the roomwasn't rocking around him.

And that's how he spent the five hours that followed: curled up atop hisbed, shivering and miserable. He considered it a worthy use of his time. Whatelse could he have been doing? Something productive? Unrealistic.

When the knocking first began, he had sunk so deeply into the throes ofexhaustion that he brushed them off as hallucinations. But then came a voice,muffled through the door: "Dee?"

Ah. Patton. Far be it from him to let Deceit simply rest. He lifted himselfas well as he could, wobbling dangerously, and hissed out a vague response.

"Okay, well, there's no need to be like that," Patton said."I've got somethin' for ya downstairs, if you feel down to seein'it!"

"I definitely need some inane movie night right now,"Deceit hissed, words lisping and slurring. His room had grown quite cold, buthe hardly had the strength to turn on the heat. "I'm doing just fine in here,thanks."

"Dee, I know you," Patton said. "You're probably hidin' inthere with the heat off, wallowin' in your own self-pity."

"... No I'm not."

Patton sighed. "Take it from me, hun," he said. "That's notgonna make anything better. You can't hide from your sickness and jus' hope itgoes away."

Deceit groaned. "I can damn well try!"

"No. No, you can't," Patton said. "I promise, it's not amovie night. Or, well — not technically. Would you just come down?"

"I'm afraid this illness is terminal, Patton," Deceit said."They've already had to amputate both my legs. I can't walk."

"Oh, poor baby," Patton cooed — and then he gently pushed open thedoor and stepped inside. He rubbed away the goosebumps on his arms, shivering."Oh, honey, it's like a freezer box in here! And you're not even under anyblankets!"

"I like the cold," Deceit insisted, stubborn as ever. Hesniffled, burrowing into his pillow so he didn't have to look at Patton'ssympathetic frown. "Leave me to die, Morality. It's far too late forme."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Patton rolled up hissleeves and — hefted Deceit into his arms, and oh, oh wow, he was reallystrong — and he nestled Deceit against his chest and carried him out of theroom.

Deceit hadn't the energy to struggle, but even if he did, he doubted hewould have. Patton's touch was burning fire against his skin and he melted intoit, eyes slipping shut. He hadn't realized how cold he'd truly become until thewarmth drove the ice from his bones, bringing feeling back to his fingers andtoes.

The living room had been thrown to chaos — the couches pushed aside, theircushions torn from their seats to become building blocks for the grandestblanket fort Deceit had ever seen. Patton set him down in the center and stood,brushing off his hands.

"Wh... what is this?" Deceit asked, eyes narrowing. The jolt ofwarmth had brought clarity back to his mind, and with it came that familiar,sharp suspicion. The living room was dark, the lights dimmed to a comfortableglow — and the Netflix startup screen shone on the tv. None of the others werein sight.

"Well," Patton said, lowering himself down to the edge of the fortto sit. "Virge told us about your tendency to hide away wheneveryou're feelin' less-than-okay."

Ah. A betrayal, then. He knew there was something shady behind this.

"And, well, I know the feeling..." Patton twisted his handstogether in his lap, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of his otherhand. "So I figured, if you gotta feel miserable, you might as well do itcomfortably!"

Deceit raised an eyebrow, and Patton stood. "You've got full access toNetflix, and there's a couple different heatin' pads in there. I'm cookin' upsome chicken noodle soup for ya, and then I'll get outta your hair. We'll all stayclear of the commons for ya."

Deceit blinked. He glanced around the fort, this time with wide-eyedconfusion rather than suspicion. "And you did all of this... for me?"

"Well, yeah!" Patton said, as if it made all the sense in theworld. "I care about you, hun. We all do."

...Huh. For the first time in his life, Deceit was stricken speechless, notby fury, but by care. He looked down to his lap, and then back up atPatton, and forced bitter truth to coat his words. "Thank you," hesaid, more genuine than he'd ever allow himself to be otherwise.

"'Course!" Patton beamed. "Alrighty, I'm gonna go finish up that soupfor ya! Then I'll stop botherin' you —"

"You're not," Deceit said before he could stop himself. Pattontilted his head to the side; the sight was undeniably adorable.

"Not what?"

"... Bothering me," Deceit finished lamely. "You don't haveto... leave. If you don't want to."

Patton's lips parted in a little 'o' of surprise — and then he smiled, andit looked like the sunrise. Deceit leaned closer to the heating pad at his sideand pretended that that was the reason for the flames blazing across his face."Are you sure?"

"I mean, it's not like I care either way," Deceit said. Brusquely,he snatched the remote from its pillow-throne and began clicking throughNetflix. His eyes narrowed. "As long as you don't get too close. I wouldn'tfeel terrible if you got sick."

Patton made a little squeak, almost inhuman in how touched and excited itwas, and he nodded, hair flopping down in his face. "Soup for two it is,then!" he said, and bounced off into the kitchen.

An hour later, Deceit fell asleep against Patton's chest.

A few days later, Patton got sick.

Deceit built him a blanket fort.

#deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #moceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #celeste's portfolio #i tried writing this like a week and a half ago but #i wrote it in a tumblr post and tumblr reloaded and i lost it #but i ROSE FROM THE ASHES AND NOW HERE WE ARE #i love They...#Anonymous

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years

Text

cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

#cruel summer fic #cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #camp half blood #camp half-blood #rachel elizabeth dare #jane penderwick #rosalind penderwick

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waywardbeanie · 4 years

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A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me! All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester PO Box 323 Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat.

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations, the grocery store and the gardening store to buy more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor, she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t, maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag.

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.��

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@ @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @angelhearts1012 @nothinbuttrouble2 @cookiechipdough @lady-pswrld @peachyafshawn @notan-applepielife

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #reader insert #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #slow burn #dean winchester series #a man of letters #waywardbeanie

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msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

The American Adventure

Part 3

Prince Liam and his closest friends are sent to a summer camp in America for a month, whilst in Cordonia the nobles are preparing for Prince Leo’s social season unknowingly to him. During their time there, Liam and Drake become besotted with the same girl- Riley Brooks.

A/N: For those who have read my series ‘Cordonian Wags’, there are a lot of similar themes in this series. However there has been a mix up with the pairings. I’ve completely changed my original plan for this series. Later on in the series it will include some canon from The Royal Romance- Book 1 (with a slight twist), as well as some similarities/quotes from the film “The Best Of Me.” This series includes present time and flashbacks to the past.

Book: The Royal Romance (A/U for majority of this series, some canon will be used but with slight twists)

All characters belong to Pixelberry apart from; Lindsey Brooks, Andy Brooks, Jackie Brooks, Nate Cooper, Lola Hughes and Bethany Hughes.

Warnings: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Adult language, mention of depression suspicion, mention of domestic abuse, mention of character death (present tense).

Tags- if you want to be added or removed let me know; @drakexwillow @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @texaskitten30 @cordonianroyalty @bascmve01 @sanchita012 @princessleac1 @queenjilian @kingliam2019 @lodberg @rainbowsinthestorm @furiousherringoperatortoad @lovablegranny @j-a-82

Previously: Riley has been having counselling and the conversation was mainly about her time at summer camp from ten years ago. Then her heart is destroyed learning that her Uncle Bastien has tragically passed away.

****

Summer in New York hadn’t been the same over the last few years. Andy and Jackie Brooks, tragically passed away in a road traffic accident. The two of them fought hard upon the arrival at the hospital- however both lost their fight minutes apart. This tragedy shattered both Riley’s and Lindsey’s hearts. The two young women had lost their role models, their best friends. Unable to grieve properly, the two girls had decided to permanently closed camp until further notice as nobody was available to cover. Or offered to cover for that matter. Riley never went to college, all the dreams that she once expressed and shared with Drake were now non-existent. Instead she became a waitress/barmaid at a dive bar along with one of her closest friends, Daniel. Lindsey had managed to work her way up the career ladder, with Liam never leaving her thoughts - ever. Now the news about another close person in their life had broken their hearts into a million pieces once again.

After ending the call from Bastien’s estate attorney, Riley headed towards Central Park. Naturally it felt the best place to be. The very few times Bastien would visit them he had always insisted to take them there for a day out before rushing back to Europe.

After a few hours of ‘people watching’ in Central Park- Riley had a lot of time to think. To herself. The information that she had just unexpectedly received, still hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Lindsey had filled up her notifications screen with all the missed calls and texts- all Riley could respond with to her sister was two simple words “I know.”

Lindsey had attempted to persuade her sister to go to her house, so they could grieve together. Not alone. In Riley’s heart she wanted nothing more than to visit her sister- however her mind advised her otherwise. For her own safety.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“The park.” Avoiding the true events of her day, it wasn��t a total lie. “Also, I received a phone call with some bad news.”

“What now, Riley? Another attention seeking act?”

“It’s not an act. Or attention seeking. My Uncle has passed away. I have a meeting with his attorney on Monday morning.” Holding in the tears, proved to be a difficult task. Even though she didn’t really love her husband, right now she felt the need for a hug off of him. Or something similar at least. Instead all he provided her with was the gesture of his eyes rolling back and the slamming of his tumbler against the glass table causing her to flinch. A regular reaction.

“Well you will have to cancel that meeting. We are going away, meeting up with the Darlington’s. You’ve already embarrassed yourself infront of them- don’t have the audacity to do it again by going awol. I’m going for a drive.” Riley looked at the empty bottle of whiskey on the table- knowing full well that he will have consumed it all in a small amount of time. An hour? Possibly two if he drank it slowly.

“You’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”

“Baby, I’m invincible. If I do, you drove me to it.”

Not responding, she was unsure as to what he would do if she did. Instead, she decided to clean away the empty bottle and the tumbler with the residue of whiskey still lingering. Taking a step outside, the air was cool for a summers night- focusing on the brightest star in the sky- all of her emotions finally escaped. Wiping her cheek, she whispered to herself- “you said you’d never leave me when my parents died. You promised me, Uncle B. Like someone else- he promised me that he would keep in touch. No matter what. I was foolish to think that a summer fling could turn into more, like Mom and Dad. I was afraid of telling you why myself and he stopped talking when you and I spoke on the phone. Mainly incase you decided to hunt him down and kill him. But now, I wish that somehow- Drake Walker would contact me. That’s never going to happen though, is it?”

****

In Cordonia, the last ten years had been something that Liam never had expected. His older brother had abdicated the throne. Now he was the Crown Prince, being forced to marry for a political reason. For the last ten years, he had wished that he could see Lindsey just one more time, explain to her the truth about his identity. She was always on his mind, even with noble women throwing themselves at him at every single opportunity. However, this didn’t bother him in the slightest.

When they had returned to Cordonia after that summer in New York, Drake felt like he had lost a limb. As much as he avoided her in the beginning, their relationship slowly turned into something more than long distance friendship. The first time in his life, he had fallen in love at such a young age. Even since Riley, he hadn’t made much of an effort with women. Now he was going to have to inform Liam about Bastien’s last wishes. Returning to New York City.

Hey, Li. Can you come to the cabin? I need to talk to you.

Sure. I’ll get Glen to escort me. Is everything okay?

You’ll find out when you get here.

*****

Drake began pacing the room, waiting for Liam. Wondering if he would attend or not. Eventually he turned up, looking regal as ever whereas Drake looked like a caveman who hadn’t shaved in years.

“So what’s up?”

“We have to go back to New York. Bastien’s last wishes. Here read this...” Drake purposely scrolled past the part regarding his past with the King Father. His hidden past with his best friends father. The untold secrets. Unable to articulate what his true thoughts regarding the impromptu trip were, Liam provided Drake with a soft smile instead. After the events that had occurred recently, he was unsure whether or not that they would all be safe. Liam’s court wasn’t out of harm’s way in their own country, what would the situation be like in another?

“Li? If not I’ll go on my own. I don’t mind.” You’ll be fine, you’re a King. Tragedy can not occur again! Liam’s inner voice attempted to make him not think negatively. Instead of elaborating on Drake’s words, he focused his eyes onto the photos that were displayed. Photos that were taken when life was ‘easy’.

“If only we could turn back time? That’s a lovely photo of the two of you. I think that’s the first and the only time that I’ve seen you smile....” Pausing, he noticed that Drake had become mute- knowing full well that his friend didn’t want to think about or discuss the ‘what if’s’. “Do you think that we will ever see them again?” Liam queried, knowing it was a ridiculous thing to say.

“I highly doubt it. But there is one person that we need to locate before we go....” Riley? Lindsey? Deep down, Liam thought or rather hoped that Drake would mention at least one of those names.

“Leo.” Sighing, the King provided his trained stoic expression- not wanting to provide any inkling at his disappointment of Leo’s name being mentioned.

“I’ll get Glen to attempt to locate the missing Prince. Are you sure that you are okay, Drake?”

“No, I’m not Liam- okay? The one person that protected me throughout life isn’t here anymore. My family- they are non existent. And you see that picture......” Pointing to his and Riley’s selfie, Drake couldn’t prevent the tears from rolling down his cheek. For the last decade all he felt was guilt.

“That one person would have given anything to protect and love me. What do I do? I promise to keep in touch with her, no matter the circumstances. I let her down. I let her go. It’s my fault that you also lost contact with Lindsey and are having to go through all of this shit. Why couldn’t I have died instead of Bastien?”

“Because he simply gave his life up for you.”

“Li, you don’t know the half of what Bastien gave up for me. Or did for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ignore me. It doesn’t matter, your Majesty.”

****

Liam wished that Drake wouldn’t hold everything in- he knew there was more that he needed to confess. But didn’t want to force it. Glen entered the cabin, to try and help Liam locate Leo- as Drake believed he was useless and unable to help he stepped outside and took a slow walk towards the lake. The one place where he and Bastien would have their heart to heart conversations. Back in New York- Riley was doing the exact same thing. Thinking back to the last personal talk she had with her second father figure was the time at camp when she was sent to the isolation cabin.

****

“He did what?” Riley just shrugged her shoulders, she knew that what she had informed her father about wasn’t a riddle. It was quite clear. Nate had punched Drake first and had avoided punishment as he did it in a sly way.

“Riley, just go to where you need to go. I’ll sort Nate out possibly tomorrow but I’ll talk to Drake now.”

.......

Andy arrived at the cabin- they had all expected him to show up with Riley as she was Daddy’s little Princess. When she wasn’t there, they all knew where she was.

“Is Drake in? I’d like to talk to him in my office.” Maxwell escorted Andy towards the room that Drake had barricaded himself in. Everybody had been asking questions about his face, lying he assumed that he had convinced them that the ‘falling over’ excuse would be a success. Covering his face, Drake allowed Andy to escort him to his office- upon arrival Bastien stood dormant with his arms folded.

“Drake what’s happening with you? You are always falling over recently.” Riley had enlightened Andy about exactly how Drake had received his most recent injury. When they arrived, Andy believed that Bastien would be able to gain the full details out of Drake. But now his mind was thinking overtime with his best friends comment.

“Sir, this wasn’t an accident. My youngest daughter, Riley...” Keeping the link between them all hidden, Bastien gave a slight nod- knowing exactly why Andy was acting as if they were all strangers. “....Explained that a fellow camper did this to Drake. It wasn’t a fall. It wasn’t an accident. He was defending my daughter like a true gentleman.”

“Drake is that correct?” Nodding, he didn’t want to go into anymore detail. However he didn’t want to seem like a pushover to his friends. “Andy, thank you for your time. I’ll deal with this if you need to sort the little fucker out.” Drake’s eyes widened at Bastien’s description of Nate, usually he would be more professional- more polite. Now he was panic stricken that next time he saw Nate, it wouldn’t result in only a black eye.

“I think that you and I need to talk young Walker... over the years, the injuries... were they not accidents either?” Remaining silent for a while, Bastien eventually became frustrated as time went on without a word muttered between the two of them.

“Drake! Answer me! I promised your father that I would look after you. If you don’t tell me I can’t help you.”

“No they weren’t accidents, Bastien. I lied. I’m sorry.” Kneeling down, he looked into Drake’s eyes- reassuring him that he would be there always. “Who did it to you, son. Tell me.” Drake removed his shirt, Bastien gasped as he could visibly see markings. Old ones. New ones. “The Ki-the King did this....”

Drake explained how every time he stood paralysed with fear, attempting for his body not to tremble as it would result in more abuse. “He was embarrassed.... that he had to take myself and Savannah in. Every time I avoided doing noble things he would shout at me, saying I was lucky that I had him ... asking why I was ungrateful. Why I couldn’t act noble like Sav?” Explaining all of this felt like relief in some way. That he didn’t have to hide the abuse from everybody. The ‘sulky’ attitude that he had helped cover the true facts about his personal life up. Describing how the King would have bloodshot eyes, as well as the thick saliva that formed around his mouth as he spat towards him. Once he was in this rage, Drake just responded with a gesture such as shaking or nodding his head or one worded answers- fearing what would occur if he said anything ‘wrong’.

“He threatened to put me up for adoption if I didn’t abide by his rules. There are blanks, half the time I don’t remember things. But he just acts all normal as if nothing has happened. I want to leave Cordonia as soon as I can, Bast. But what would people think?” Bastien at this moment in time didn’t care what other people thought. In the back of his mind he was furious and beyond upset with the unexpected confession provided- but bit his lip not willing for his true feelings regarding the matter to appear.

“Don’t you worry about it. You have me. I will not allow him to hurt you again. You hear me? Go back to the others. I need to go and see someone.” Debating whether or not to leave him alone, Drake pulled Bastien in for a tight hug- explaining how much he appreciated him and never wanted to lose him.

“You’ll never lose me, I promise. Oh by the way Drake, I think that Andy appreciates you defending his daughter. But she can look after herself. Trust me. She’s stronger than she looks.”

“How do you know?”

“Instinct. Just like instinct tells me you wouldn’t defend any girl. I know how young men’s minds work. Oh also, Riley punched Nate. See you later, son. I’m only a phone call away. I love you.”

.....

“Hello, Riley.” Riley answered the door of the isolation cabin. To begin with she believed that it was her father- giving in to punishing her.

“Erm, Liam. You’re not supposed to be here. You need to go now before my parents see you!” Raising his eyebrows up towards her, a little bit of the rebellious Rys attitude appeared from nowhere.

“I got lost on my walk. No one needs to know the truth. Are you okay?” Pulling him through the threshold, she didn’t want him to be punished too for her previous actions.

“I’m fine. At least I get a bit of peace and quiet here.” Nervously giggling, this was the way she always hid feelings. A this moment of time, she had a mixture of those feelings that needed to disappear whilst she had company. The hated towards Nate. The growing feelings towards a stranger. The disappointment in herself for becoming a ‘boxer’ short term.

“Listen, tell me to mind my own business if you feel the need to... ‘Nigel’ as we all call him now, he’s not worth your time. Anybody’s time for that matter.” Stepping closer towards her, he removed a stray piece of hair from her face to behind her ear. Having this close contact made her heart flutter in an instant as he began to caress her rosy cheek. Leaving it lingering there, the two of them remained in silence for a while.

“You’re beautiful, Riley. You deserve better. Don’t allow him to hurt you in anyway.”

“Okay Prince Charming, no need to call me beautiful to make me feel better.” If only she knew. Liam thought as he silently chuckled to himself.

“You and your sister are beautiful young women. I’m not trying to charm you, I’m telling the truth. If he hurts you or anybody again.....”

“Thank you. But Nate won’t do anything again- I can assure you of that. Regarding your charm.... You guys are, what I suppose the equivalent to beautiful is.”

“Well I could understand you calling me good looking. But hyper Maxwell and sulky Drake?” Blushing the minute he mentioned Drake, Liam noticed immediately. Trying to read her facial expression, she daren’t make eye contact with him.

“Have you got something that you’d like to tell me?”

“No! Why would I?” Knowing she was lying not only to Liam but to herself- she wished that involuntary gesture of the blush didn’t provide the truth. “Okay, Nate was criticising me... Drake defended me... I asked him to meet me but he never showed up. Then when I found him he confessed that Nate had hurt him....because of me.”

“So I assume that’s why you did it back to him? Do you have feelings for Drake?” Asking this question, he didn’t really want to know the answer- of course he would be happy for his best friend. But he still had those conflicted feelings ever since meeting both Riley and Lindsey.

“Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. He hates me one minute- then the next he’s being my knight in shining armour. Can we change the subject please? There’s Monopoly if you wanna play... I mean you’ve already gone awol - what would another hour matter?”

“Oh... I’d love to. But at home that game is banished in my household...” Following the British royal family tradition, Constantine had also agreed that the board game shouldn’t be played.

“Why?” Riley asked whilst wearing a confused expression- not quite believing his story.

“Erm.... it just becomes vicious. It causes too many arguments. So my parents made a joint decision to not play it.”

“I promise that I’ll play fair. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone that you’ve played...” A mischievous grin formed on her face, before reaching for the box. Liam couldn’t help but agree to play- just this one time, he promised himself.

After an hour or so playing, Liam really enjoyed himself. Having the freedom to break the usual royal rules. During the game, they became comfortable within each other’s company. Liam confessed that he honestly thought he would fall for Riley but now he had met Lindsey he wanted to get to know her more. Due to this, Riley warned him about the ‘do’s and don’ts’ regarding her older sister- then Liam did the same regarding Drake.

.......

Bastien overheard two familiar voices coming from inside the isolation cabin; his goddaughter and the ‘good prince’. As far as he was aware Liam always stuck to protocol- never once acted like Leo. As Liam left, Bastien hid behind the tree- he knew his responsibility was to protect the teenagers from Cordonia, but whilst he was in the States; the Brooks’ sisters were also his priority in his mind.

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?” Riley gestured for him to enter, wondering who would be next on her visitor list. “I know I’m not your father, but keep those fists down next time. Years ago I taught you self defence. Not for you to be a fighter for the sake of it.” Riley avoided eye contact with him, feeling as if she was a small child that was about to be sent to the naughty step. Feeling guilty for saying his words, he sighed before continuing. “Listen, I love you. I don’t want you becoming hurt. So just leave the fighting to us men if and when required.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not a kid, Uncle Bastien.”

“You’re 15. Soon to be 16. That’s still a kid in my eyes. Stay away from Nate and stick close with your friends and the people from Europe. They are kind and loyal. Well the men are, the two woman aren’t.”

“And how would you know?”

“Your father.” Bastien regretted lying to her, but it was part of his duty to keep not only his job role a secret but also the identity of the nobles from Cordonia.

“Can you keep a secret, Uncle Bast?”

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

“I... I think that I like one of them. I don’t know. I just. I want to get to know him better, just by talking to him. He stood me up before, I was furious but then I knew the reasoning why. He’s only here for a month, but..... I’m being silly aren’t I? I need to stop thinking like this.” When Riley began talking Bastien automatically assumed that she meant Liam - now he understood that she meant Drake. The boy that was practically his adoptive son.

“Drake is... he’s...” Practically my son. You’re my goddaughter. For fuck sake.

“Grumpy? Arrogant? Handsome?”

“I wasn’t going to say that... he seems like a lovely young man who would protect you in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t live around here. You can have a summer fling if you really want to but it can’t really be more than that, Ri.”

“I know... but Mom wasn’t from New York. But my parents have an amazing bond and relationship...Just ignore me. I’ll try not to fall for him just because of the circumstances. Although.......Liam, the blonde one- is trying to make a move on Lindsey. We are both going to end up heartbroken if we follow our hearts aren’t we?” As much as Bastien wanted to allow them all to live happily ever after, he knew that it would be virtually impossible.

“Maybe? Or maybe in the future fate will find a way. We don’t know what our future holds. But I suppose we need to grab every opportunity as if it’s our last. I’ll pop down and see you in the morning, okay? I love you.” Maybe just maybe, Liam could marry for love as Eleanor once hoped for. Drake deserves happiness after all of the shit that he has been through. Could Lindsey and Riley be their happy endings? They would be better than people such Madeleine and Olivia. No. One thing at a time Bast, get them through the summer camp without any scandal occurring first. After leaving Riley, all Bastien could think of was everything and anything that had been discussed.

****

“Drake! There you are! Where have you been?”

“Sorry, I just went to the lake. Must have lost track of the time.” Liam knew the reasoning why. Bastien and Jackson would take himself, Leo and Drake there quite a lot during their childhood. It was the place where Drake was taught to fish- the only time that he outshined the two princes in an activity.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Li. I just needed some air. What’s the matter?”

“Glen thinks that he’s found a lead on Leo. Whilst he’s on the phone, he’s found a few numbers for the two of us to contact. I’ve tried a few but had no luck. He suggested not using our personal phones. There’s two more numbers left, here...You ring this one and I’ll ring the other in the other room.” Liam smiled softly as he passed his friend the number. Without a word, he exited the room- eager to find his brother to complete his ex head guards wishes.

****

Riley was grateful once her husband arrived home- unscathed. Not that she was thrilled with his actions, but it was better than viewing his body in a body bag. Assisting him to their bed, she grabbed the spare blankets and made her way over to the guest room. The alcohol smell surrounding him made her feel nauseous, as it had done the last few weeks. As she finally got settled and comfy, her phone rang on an unknown number.

“Hello?” Not hearing a response from the other end of the line- she shook her head believing that it was somebody with the wrong number. Or somebody’s sense of humour with pranking people.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” The heavy breathing and ignorance from the mystery person frustrated her eventually. “Listen arsehole! I’m not in the mood for childish games. I’ve got a block list that is as long as my arm and that began ten years ago and is now going to end with your number. Last chance, who is this?”

“Riley?”

The line cut off.

#choices trr #theroyalromance #trr fanfic #riley brooks #Liam Rys #Drake Walker #bastien lykel #Riley x Liam #Liam x mc #Riley x Drake #drake x mc #mc x Bastien #tw abuse mention #tw swearing #tw depression warning #tw character death #long post #read more link never works

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p4nkow · 5 years

Text

Why the hell not?

just a Roger fluffy one-shot. Basically that’s it.

Summarise: Reader is in tour with the boys and after the show in Montréal Roger proposes her a thing

Warnings: none. just fluff, fluff, fluff

It is set in 1981 during the show in Montreal. I pictured the real life Roger for this but it can also be read as Ben!Roger

Let me know what you think! My DMs and my Inobx are always open

Gifs not mine so credit to the owners

“Okay, so what if-” Fred was immediately cut off by Brian.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“Every time you start with what if, we end up being in some sort of ridiculous trouble we don’t need to be.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the little spat between the boys. Sound check wasn’t supposed to last that long but Fred kept showing off some ideas for the upcoming show. You guys were currently in Montréal, the second to last stage of The Game Tour.

Roger spent two whole months trying to persuade you to join them in the tour and at the end you gave in to his request. You were glad you did- you were having the best time of your life with your favorite people in the world.

When the boys were too tired to leave the hotel you guys spent the nights playing scrabble, in which you really sucked. There was no way you could win with a player such as Brian.

Nevertheless you spent most of the nights off partying. You had lost the count of the amount of times you had dragged Deaky into the dance floor. He really had the best moves and that’s the reason why Roger started calling him ‘Disco Deaky’.

Roger, on the other hand, was way more hot-headed than John and didn’t like to dance that much. He enjoyed watching you dance, though. Whenever you were on the dance floor his gaze was constantly on you, following closely your movements.

A thing which he really enjoyed was getting piss drunk. There were times when Brian had to help you out to carry him into your room.

“I swear it! Don’t you believe me?” You eye-rolled at his words, groaning as you tried not to loose you balance while you made your way to your room.

“Yeah, mate. I believe you.” Brian supported most of Roger’s weight- tiny as you were there was no way you could do it on your own.

“Roger...”

“The floor really keeps coming at me!” His voice was squeaky due to the bender.

“I’m sure it does, love.” You tried not to giggle as you exchanged an exasperated look with Brian.

When you finally made it to your room you gently leaned Roger to the bed.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You said to Brian, thankful for his help.

“And I don’t know what we’d do without our drummer so we must keep an eye on him.”

You thanked him again and walked him to the door before coming back to Roger.

“I made it, love.” He murmured with half of his face sunk on the pillow. “All by myself.”

“Yeah, Rog.” You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief. You were starting to get undressed as you thought he had fallen asleep but he didn’t.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He mumbled and your heart grew full of love.

“Rog you’re piss drunk, go to sleep.” You leaned to him and he sat up in the corner of the mattress. You stood between his spare legs, hands starting to stroke his fluffy and messy hair as he put his hands on your hips.

“I probably am but it doesn’t change the things. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He placed a kiss on your bare stomach and you couldn’t help but smile. “I wanna start a family with you.”

You coughed a bit, taken by surprise by his words. However you didn’t let yourself take him too seriously, he probably wouldn’t have remembered none of it in the morning so you decided to humor him.

“That would be fantastic.”

“Just imagine a little peanut on this beautiful belly of yours. A little drummer.”

“Or a little bass player.”

“Not in a million years.”

You chuckled and placed a kiss in his head. “We’ll see, love. Let’s go to sleep now.”

But that had been a week ago and he hadn’t brought the subject back so you just thought he didn’t remember anything of that night. After the sound check the time flied and the boys had only half an hour before the show started.

“How do I look?” Roger turned towards you, spreading his arms for you to take a better look.

“Handsome as always.” You leaned towards him, surrounding his chest with your arms and holding him close to you. You placed a kiss on his cheek and took a better look of his face.

“Do you like me?” You looked at him confused as he hugged you back.

“I’m your girlfriend, of course I like you.”

“One can never be sure.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I lost my pants!” Freddie had a worried look on his face as he looked for his clothes.

“How exactly did that happen?” John didn’t seem too concerned. As a matter of fact that had happened a lot during the tour.

“Darling, I don’t know! One moment they were here and then they just weren’t!”

You exchanged a confused look with Brian, who said “I’m pretty sure clothes don’t disappear just like that.”

“Brian, I just said-”

You stopped paying attention to the tiff as soon as you spotted a pair of trousers casually hanging over a chair in the corner of the room. You walked away from Roger’s hug to go get them, holding them in front of you as you asked Freddie “Are they these by chance?”

“Darling, you are my saviour!” Fred placed a kiss in your head as he took the trousers you handed him and disappeared behind a door.

A woman stopped by the room and she had the look of being an assistant. “Ten minutes to go!”

“Already?” Brian asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid.”

“Love, follow me.” Roger grabbed your hand and you followed him through the hallways. You met tons of people which were working really hard to make the show as best as it could be. You admired them- Queen shows were beautiful as they were also thanks to them.

Roger noticed the look on your face and gave you a little smile.

“You nervous?” You asked and he nodded at your question, taking a deep breath as you arrived to the backstage.

“I always am.”

“I know, love” You murmured, placing your hands in his face. You slowly caressed his cheeks, looking at him right in the eyes. “You’re gonna do great. You always do.”

He leaned his forehead to yours and you could easily sense his nerves.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am too. Thanks for bringing me.” He smiled and kissed you, putting his hands into your back to hold you close to him.

“Hey, lovebirds! Five minutes to go!” Miami interrupted your kiss and you bursted into laughter while Roger swore under his breath for the interruption.

“I’m sorry for stealing your boy” You told him and glanced at Roger, who was still holding you.

“Don’t worry that much, he’s way more focused when you’re around.”

“Oh fuck off” Roger shot back as he let you go in order to get ready for the show. He started to warm up the muscles as the other boys arrived too. Freddie immediately started to imitate him, warming up his muscles as well as his voice. Deaky already had his bass in shoulder, just like Brian with his beloved Red Special, and you took a step back to give them more space.

“You gonna be right here, right?” You smiled at Roger and nodded at his question.

“Sure as hell I am. The whole time.” He just gave you a nod and a little smile before turning his back at you. The lights in the stage signaled the beginning of the show and after a sign from the boys to the main the show officially started.

Here we go.

One by one the boys entered to the stage and your smile grew wider as they started to play. You stood there just like you told Roger you’d do, right next to Miami, Chris - Roger’s assistant - and the rest of the crew. Everyone in the backstage was ready to act just in case something went wrong during the show.

A few songs went by and you sang along with the crowd. Roger glanced at you a few times and you happily waved at him with a big smile on your face. You spent most of the time looking at him, not being able to stop thinking about the fact that he was hot. He was even more attractive while drumming and you weren’t surprised girls went crazy for him. You went crazy for him, too.

Your attention was caught by Deaky, who had started to show his dancing moves. Disco Deaky was back and as soon as you caught his gaze you smiled at him. You tried to reassure him because you knew he tended to overthink.

You looked at Freddie, who was also dancing around Brian. The chemistry that they had was magical. Freddie really owned the stage and the crowd was under his thrall. They loved him.

He sang Somebody to love with all his heart and despite you promised him not to, you got emotional. Miami looked at you with a smile and surrounded your shoulders with his arm to reassure you. Roger looked at you and you smiled at him, despite the fact that you were wiping away your tears.

After performing Killer Queen it was time for I’m in love with my car, and you sang along with Roger. His voice, which always sounded so soft, was now hoarse. You know what that song meant to him and you’ve always been his supporter on that matter.

At some point Chris handed you a chair and you gratefully thanked him. The show went on and it was time for Love of my life, which meant that Roger was getting off stage.

You stood up as he walked towards you. Chris handed him a bottle of water and a towel, which he immediately used after thanking him.

“You’re rocking it!” You threw your arms around him and placed kisses all over his face. Roger bursted into laughter as he hold you.

“Careful, love. I’m all sweaty.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You okay? I noticed you cried a bit.”

“Yeah, Freddie’s fault. You know how he makes me feel.”

“Yeah, I know.” He stroked your hair as Fred started singing the first lines of the song, accompanied by Brian. Roger sat on the chair Chris had brought you and you sat on his lap. He immediately put his arm around your hips, re-reading the set list.

He distractedly stroked your hair as you felt your eyes become glossy again due to Freddie’s voice.

“You’re cute when you get emotional for a song” He whispered into your ear.

“Oh, stop it.”

“I’m serious, love. I love how you get involved into things.”

“Roger, get ready!” Chris glanced at him as he handed him a new pair of drumsticks, so you had to stand up and let him go. He placed a kiss between your hair as he run back in the stage, taking his seat behind the drums and waiting for the boys to get ready in order to start playing again.

Time flew by quickly and before you could tell the show was already over. Once you were back in the dressing room you congratulated with the boys. Montréal had been a hell of a show.

Roger was ecstatic that he finally had the chance of a solo performance and he kept talking about it while we has getting ready to go back to the hotel. You were honestly happy for him: he had the chance to live his dream and he was doing it fully and without regrets.

“You ready to go, Boo?” He asked you while he was making sure he didn’t forget anything behind. You nodded and said goodbye to the boys before following him out the building.

Once you got to the hotel and got ready for the night you leaned into him, snuggling with him. He hold you close, so that you could use him as a pillow.

“Did you like the show?” Even if you were alone in the room his words were nothing but a whisper.

“Yeah, it was really awesome. I loved it.”

“Also my drum solo?”

“Especially your drum solo” You reassured him with a smile.

“Love?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the night I got piss drunk? The one of the floor thing.”

You chuckled as you remembered his ravings of that night. “Of course. Although I didn’t know you did.”

“I remember most of it.” You weren’t sure of where it was going.

“Something’s wrong?”

“You also remember the conversation we had when we were alone, right?”

“Rog?”

“Yeah?”

You lifted your head to look at him in the face, immediately meeting his gaze. “Are you trying to tell me you want a baby?”

“Basically, yeah” He giggled, but you could tell he was feeling insecure. “I know I’m always on tour and I’m always busy with the band but-”

“Yes” You said firmly.

“Yes to the fact that I’m busy or yes to-”

“Yes, I wanna start a family with you and I want you to be the father of my children. So yes, I want to have a baby.”

“Right now?” He asked with a big, bright smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why the hell not?”

#roger taylor #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #queen #ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody

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chocoluckchipz · 5 years

Text

Dance with Me, Chaton - 23

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

23. Blindsided.

The weather was sunny with a few clouds when Adrien and Marinette had entered Lace Rose. When they exited, the rain dribbled. Once they’d reached Gabriel’s office, it poured from the sky like there was no tomorrow. Since neither of them had an umbrella, Adrien covered Marinette with his jacket for the few meters they had to run in the rain, claiming that he could change into any of many clothes from the previous collections his father had in the building so getting wet for him wasn’t an issue.

“I’ll change and then head to my father’s office,” Adrien said as they entered the building. “Then another few fittings and I’ll be free in three or four hours. Can I come to help you? Even if it’s for moral support?”

Marinette chuckled. “I feel like I’ve acquired a shadow, not a boyfriend.”

“Am I too clingy?” He frowned. “I probably am. I can tone it down... It’s just that… we are still together, but I’m already missing you because I know we’ll part soon.”

She reached for his hand and smiled. “You know, puppy eyes look adorable on you.”

“Do they work, though?”

“Maybe? Just a little.”

“So, I can come?”

“I’d love that,” Marinette said. “But it isn’t very professional, and if we want your father to approve of us, we have to keep it purely professional at work.”

“Bummer,” Adrien grumbled, lacing his fingers with Marinette’s. “But we still have a few minutes and an elevator ride until your lunch is over. Can I be unprofessional until then?”

Marinette bit her lip as she mulled it over before relenting a shy smile. “Okay.”

The elevator arrived sooner than Adrien would’ve liked. The ride up was even faster, the door opening at Marinette’s floor way too quickly. Before she exited, Adrien sneaked a kiss to her cheek. She smiled, whispering “I love you” before the door closed again and Adrien was left alone. His knees weak and his heart singing from joy, he closed his eyes. So this is what it felt like to be happy?

Proudly grinning, Adrien entered his father’s office at exactly the appointed time, only to be told that Gabriel was busy.

“Take a seat, Adrien.” Nathalie pointed to a couch by a window. “He’ll see you as soon as he can.”

Adrien obeyed, not being surprised at all. It’d always been like that. Father didn’t make time for him; he squeezed him between his appointments.

Something in his pocket poked him. With a frown, Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim, crème-coloured box. The necklace he got Marinette. He groaned. How could he forget to give it to her? Unbelievable. But then… it could be his official excuse to drop by after work. Maybe he can even score permission to walk her home… or drive. Nah, walking would allow him to spend more time with Marinette… unless she was tired after a long day, so driving her home would probably be a better option—

“Mme Bustier told me M Agreste wanted to see me?” the woman on his mind asked Nathalie.

Adrien stirred. How did he not notice her walking into the room?

“Yes, he did.” Nathalie nodded towards Adrien. “Take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Marinette headed his way. “Hey, stranger. Fancy to see you here.”

Adrien stood up. “Did you miss me already?”

“Not at all,” she teased.

“Mean.”

She giggled. “Well, maybe a little, but I’m here because your father summoned me, not because I’m chasing every opportunity to see you. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I totally believe you. Especially knowing you’ve had a crush on me since forever.”

“Look who’s the meanie here,” Marinette pouted. “And you had the guts to accuse me of being mean to you?”

Adrien chuckled. His sight fell at the box in his hands. “Shall I give you this then, to atone for my sins?”

He offered the box to Marinette. She hesitantly took it and opened. The moment her eyes landed on the ladybug pendant, a muffled gasp escaped her lips.

“Adrien,” she muttered. “It’s gorgeous, but I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s an expensive gift—”

“And you’re my girlfriend,” he interrupted. “Why can’t I give a necklace to my girlfriend?”

She looked at him, biting her lip. “Adrien, it’s too much.”

“It isn’t. It’s not as expensive as you think.” He took the necklace out of the box and circled around Marinette to stand behind her. A moment later Adrien brushed her hair aside, his fingers lightly glazing over her skin. He placed the necklace around Marinette’s neck, its pendant landing on her chest, and whispered into her ear, “A ladybug for my Ladybug. Fitting? Isn’t it?”

With a swift movement, Adrien closed the clasp at the back, just as clapping thundered through the serenity of the room.

“Congratulations, Adrien!” Gabriel smirked, clapping his hands as he walked closer. “You’ve brought her right to my door and even took care to mark her with a necklace, so there would be no doubt for me. Nice job. I’m impressed.”

Adrien’s blood ran cold. Beside him, Marinette stilled, her body going rigid.

“Nice to meet you, Mlle Ladybug.” Gabriel stood in front of them, his hands behind his back. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Interesting. Didn’t expect you to be the one who said my collection was ridiculous and would make me a laughing stock of the entire industry.”

Marinette gulped, her eyes wide as she side-glanced at Adrien.

His body barely functioning, rapid breaths and clenching heart, Adrien still took a step forward to cover at least some of Marinette from Gabriel. “Father, you’ve—”

“Nice job,” Gabriel said, smirking. “You know, finding her would’ve been enough, but I see you’ve enjoyed the challenge, prolonging the chase—” he stepped closer to Marinette, almost leaning in, “—luring our little bug in a false sense of security, and delivering her to me with a bow on her… neck. Impressive.”

Adrien stared at Gabriel in shock. “Father—”

“I always knew you had it in you. You are my son after all.”

As if brought out of her trance, Marinette jerked to Adrien. Her breathing heavy, she stared at him in horror. “You were searching for me on your father’s orders?”

“Now, why would you think so,” Gabriel cut in. “Adrien is fully capable of coming up with his own brilliant ideas. Now, if you don’t mind, Mlle Ladybug, please, step into my office. I’d like to hear more of your opinion on my creative choices.”

Her face pale, Marinette stared at the floor as she silently headed towards Gabriel’s office, not sparing Adrien a glance.

Adrien gasped for air. His head spun, invisible force gripping at his chest. This couldn't be happening! What was even happening? Nothing made sense, but desperate to do at least something, Adrien grabbed Gabriel’s shoulder. “Father, you’ve got it wrong. She isn’t Ladybug.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. “And why would you lie to me, Adrien?”

“I’m not lying—”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him, scoffing. “Do you really think I would’ve let you do this on your own? You aren’t competent enough for that yet.”

“You—what did you—”

Gabriel laughed. “You’re such a child still, Adrien. Yes, I’ve been monitoring your every step. Your entire Discord chat history is on my desk.” His tone changed, cold and threatening notes slipping through as Gabriel took a step towards Adrien. “You should consider yourself lucky I’m willing to overlook you hacking into my computer and stealing my private files against you. I get it, everything is worth the finish goal, but if you were spending an insane amount of cash on something like that, at least hire a competent hacker who won’t leave traces. Now, go or you can kiss that insufferable ‘Freedom’ whim of yours goodbye.”

Barely breathing, Adrien stared at Gabriel in shock. How foolish of him. Why would he ever think his father wouldn’t monitor him?

“Father—”

“We’re done here, and I suggest you don’t push your luck, Adrien. If you make me angry, I may just forget about our deal. You wouldn't want that, right?” Gabriel threatened.

Adrien pressed his lips together, clenching his fists. He couldn't push anymore. Father was mad. That was clear as day. If he did, who knew what Gabriel would do. And it wasn’t him who’d just entered his office. That was Marinette. Adrien couldn’t make Gabriel even angrier. For her sake.

He still pleaded, “You promised not to fire her.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Go before I change my mind.”

Adrien stood in his place frozen, silently staring after his father and Marinette until the door behind them closed. His stomach turned. He… Did he just give away his Marinette to his father’s wrath? His eyes to the ground, Adrien groaned. He did. Unintentionally, he’d just betrayed Marinette, and there was nothing he could do at the moment. Interfering now meant she could not only lose her job but be blacklisted from the entire industry. Gabriel was powerful enough to do that. From experience, Adrien knew he would do that if pushed any further.

The air thinned, noises slowly vanishing into background. Adrien felt sick. His head spun. He was disgusting. How could he? Curling in on himself, Adrien tried to grasp that tiny sliver of hope that maybe his father really just wanted to hear Marinette explain her reasoning behind her opinion? Maybe, Adrien was just severely overreacting—Perhaps…

Holding onto his head, Adrien sunk onto the couch. “I’m an idiot.”

Out of nowhere, Nathalie touched his shoulder. “Do you need a glass of water? You look pale.”

“He won’t fire her?” Adrien mumbled, staring at the floor. “Tell me, Nathalie. Will he?”

“I don’t know,” the woman replied, shrugging. “Your father never let me in on his plans regarding this girl.”

“I see,” Adrien echoed. “Then maybe—”

The door swung open, and Marinette walked out, failing to hold back the tears streaming down her face. She was pressing some file to her chest, walking away as fast as she could, not sparing him a glance.

“Marinette!” Adrien got up and followed her. “Marinette, wait!”

“Leave me alone,” she barked. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Marinette, wait.” Adrien grabbed her arm, catching up with her. “Marinette, what happened? He promised he won’t fire you.”

Marinette jerked her arm away from him, brushing him off. “Oh, don’t worry! He didn’t fire me.”

“Then what happened?” Adrien tried to reach over to her again, but she flinched away.

Her voice bitter and labored, she asked. “Did you search for Ladybug for your father?”

He stalled. He couldn’t lie to her. Not when he’d already betrayed her so. Even if unintentionally. His eyes falling to the floor, Adrien mumbled, “It’s not so straightforward as it seems. He promised me—”

“Did you or did you not?”

The lump in his throat won’t let him answer. The words had vanished. Something gripped at his chest, squeezing all the air out. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t say it.

She glared at him. “Answer me, Adrien! Did you or did you not search for me for your father?!”

His shoulders slumped, Adrien lowered his head as he whispered. “I did.”

Her lips quivered. He could see her body trembling as she gripped at the file on her chest. Tears streamed down unobstructed and with a shift movement, Marinette ripped the ladybug necklace from her neck and threw it at his feet.

“I’m such an idiot,” she spat. “You never loved me. This all was a game to you. You used me for what? A thrilling pastime? And I… I believed you… I was blindsided by you. I can’t believe I even fell in—” She pressed her lips together and swallowed the rest of the words, growling instead, “Never come near me again.”

Marinette ran.

Adrien couldn’t move. His ears ringing, he couldn’t even look at her vanishing in the distance. Instead, he slumped down to pick up the necklace. The rubies of the ladybug sparkled. The chain was broken. Torn in pieces. Ripped from its owner’s neck.

His heart clenched. Hopelessly, he looked after Marinette, but she wasn’t there anymore. A few people staring at him from their offices hid back into their rooms. He didn’t care. He should probably go back to his father and ask what happened. His legs refused to listen. Clutching the pendant to his chest, Adrien fell to his knees, his vision blurring.

He had one person. One person in this crazy life of his who loved him. Whom he loved more than anything. How could this happen? How could he lose her?

“Get up!” Gabriel’s voice cut from behind. “Don’t embarrass me more than you’ve already done.”

Adrien clenched his teeth together. Don’t embarrass him? He never did! He was a good boy. The perfect son. Always did his best. Excelled in his studies. Didn’t have any friends his father wouldn’t approve of. Worked at the family company ever since he could remember. He sacrificed his life to please his father. For what?

“I said get up, Adrien!” Gabriel barked. “I don’t need you throwing tantrums. I’ve already had enough with you parading about the office with that tramp.”

“What did you do to her?” Adrien seethed through his teeth, not moving an inch.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What did you do to her?” Adrien stood up, spun around, and glared. “What did you do to Marinette?”

“Nothing," Gabriel stated as a matter of fact.

“Liar," Adrien growled. “She came out crying. What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel repeated, his lips pressed thinly together, yet his face emotionless. “I did nothing to her, and if you want to discuss this issue further, I suggest we go to my office.”

“I won’t go anywhere, Father,” Adrien snarled. “What did you do to her? Answer me!”

“And I repeat, I did nothing,” Gabriel responded dismissively. “She quit. Why are you blaming me for that?”

“She what?” Adrien frowned, anger coursing through his veins. “Marinette loved her job. She couldn’t quit unless you threatened her. What did you do?”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Gabriel groaned, rolling his eyes. “You should better ask yourself what did you do to her.”

“Excuse me?”

“She quit because she couldn’t handle the pressure that dating you had brought her." Gabriel’s said, his voice silky smooth, yet every word ripped at Adrien’s heart.

“What are you talking about?” Adrien snarled. “We’ve been dating for less than an hour. What pressure are we talking about?”

Gabriel puffed. “Huh, so even an hour of dating you had proved to be too much for her? Interesting. What did you do to her, Adrien?”

Adrien pressed his lips together. This didn’t make any sense. Marinette was perfectly fine with dating him.

“I guess you were too intimidating for her,” Gabriel continued.

No! That couldn’t be true! She was the cooler one in their duo.

“Or maybe the fame got to her, and she decided that she doesn’t need you anymore?”

What was he talking about? Marinette wasn’t that kind of person.

“Or perhaps she just got bored with you. She played her game, captured a mouse and decided it wasn’t worth it. Who knows? She isn’t any better than any of those friends you’ve brought home before. Forget her, Adrien. Enjoy the freedom you’ve wanted so bad.”

Adrien stared ahead of himself. His breathing ragged, a chill running down his spine, he gripped the necklace in his fist tighter. His walls around, the peeking people, his father, everything around suddenly blurred as he remembered all the friends that suddenly cut their ties with him before their friendships had barely started. There were so many. None of them stayed, all leaving him at the first opportunity. He eventually gave up on finding more, Nino being a rare exception. Father never approved of any of them. Nino never approved of Father and couldn’t care less about him or what he could do. It all clicked.

“You made her…” he whispered as if in a trance. “You made her quit, didn’t you? What did you do? Threatened her?”

Silently, Gabriel walked closer. He fixed Adrien's jacket, shaking off the non-existent dust, tighten Adrien’s tie back to its perfect shape, and fixed his hair.

“Now, don’t say such nonsense,” he said, looking Adrien straight in his eyes. Taking the ladybug pendant from his hands, Gabriel dropped in the nearby trash bin. “Why would I do that? She was a talented designer, and her input was valuable. You’re just upset because she dumped you, so you’re trying to pin the blame on someone else. I understand, and I’ll forgive you. Now, let’s go. You need to calm down.”

Adrien didn’t move. “You’ve made her quit because you didn’t like her dating me, didn’t you? Not even for daring to stand up to you. Why Father?” he whispered. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Gabriel scoffed and leaned closer. “You misunderstood, son. I don’t hate you. I only want what’s best for you and she…she was not what you need. You are an Agreste, Adrien. You need someone who would know how to serve you, how to please you. Not boss you around with her opinions. You’ll understand later.”

Adrien flinched. His stomach violently heaved, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as Gabriel continued.

“And I’ll keep you safe from everyone unfitting you put your eye on until you get your head out of the gutter and choose the right woman.” Gabriel straightened and turned sideways, ready to depart. “So stop slumming it after lying, entitled gold diggers and look at someone like that Rossi girl, for example. You were wrong about her, by the way. She reached out to me and told me the truth about what happened that day, what was happening for years and how she’d been suffering at the hands of that Dupain-Cheng tramp. I couldn't believe what vain and vile person I was harboring in my walls. So, I've fixed your injustice and rehired Mlle Rossi. She’s starting tomorrow as our newest junior designer. Luckily, we’ve just had an opening, and I suggest you think about inviting her to dinner next week as an apology. But now, be a good boy and go rest, clear your head, and come back when you’re more reasonable.”

Adrien felt sick. Did his father even hear what he was saying? Did he really trust the sweetened lies of a pretty stranger more than the words of his own son? No wonder Marinette couldn't handle Lila back in her school days. How was she handling her up to now was beyond him.

His stomach sunk. Adrien pressed his lips together and clenched his fists to stop himself from saying the words he knew he’d regret later. He needed to get away, or he would either cause a scene or get sick in front of everyone, and he didn't have time for that now.

He had to fix this. He had to find Marinette and explain everything. She couldn’t have gone too far, and if he’d rushed he might have a chance of catching up to her.

_______________________________________________________________________

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#ladynoirjuly2019 #ladynoir #adrienette #Gabriel is a s*** human #It all blows #as always

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ravens-rambling · 5 years

Note

“Hey–I’m perfectly average height for my age, thank you very much. You’re the one who’s freakishly tall!” ~ With smol V and toll L, please?

A/N: Why does every Analogical fic I write always end up with them cuddling?????

WC: 1,524

warnings: Sleep Deprivation, Mention of Nightmares

Tag List: @punsterterry @frostedlover

“I won’t say it again Virgil, no more caffeine. That was your fourth cup that is way too much do you know how bad it is for you to consume that much caffeine?” Logan sighed as he held up the bag of coffee grounds.

They have gone through this countless amounts of times and still, Virgil does this. Every time he doesn’t sleep properly, much to Logan’s displeasure, he keeps telling Virgil to go to sleep earlier but does he listen? Nah, and in turn gets sleep deprived he thinks drinking loads of coffee would help him in that situation. And time and time again Logan has to restrict him from the coffee. Which turns Virgil to…well a grumpy mess, unfortunately. Though it’s not the worst he has been through, it’s not as bad as Roman when he’s sick at least thankfully. But still, he can be pretty whiny when he wants to be.

So he has to take matters in his own hands, literally and figuratively. Luckily he knows exactly how to do that and to make Virgil look absolutely adorable in the process.

Virgil grumbled to himself as he tried to hop on his toes to reach the coffee grounds but no matter how hard he tries he can never reach it. It honestly was one of the most precious things to witness in Logan’s eyes. One of the many advantages he has in being the tall one in the relationship.

“Ya, so you’ve told me. And I don’t really care! I need caffeine, Logan! How dare you deprive me of my precious coffee!” He said dramatically which made Logan laugh a bit.

“Alright now, you’re starting to sound like Princey. You really need to sleep Virgil.”

“No, I do not! I’m perfectly fine!”

“Alright if your fine why do you need this hm?” He smirked at the younger one.

Virgil grumbled, “Because! I’m not tired enough to sleep but I need to wake up some more! You know this!”

“Oh do I? I don’t think so. I think you need some sleep, Virgil. And if you don’t listen to me I will bring out Patton.”

That seemed to make Virgil shut up a moment as he crossed his arms, his feet planted firmly on the ground and all of a sudden it seems his shoes was more important. Honestly, he looked like a little kid when he pouts like this, it sent so many emotions through Logan’s chest, emotions that he’s still not used to.

“Fine…”

Logan sighed, “Thank you now, go to your room I’ll be there in a second. Do you-”

He was cut off by Virgil grabbing his tie as he was about to turn around and leaning him down so Virgil can send his lips against his.

Logan’s eyes widened at the sudden gentle kiss but within a moment he closed his eyes as he let the sensations and emotions run through him. His shoulders relaxed even the wrinkles along his forehead and eyes relaxed. He was being reduced to a puddle, he knew, and honestly, it didn’t bother him as it should have. Rather he always enjoyed it.

When it came to the others he always presented himself as precise and emotionless as he could possibly be. But when it came to Virgil… Well, he couldn’t hide any of his emotions from the anxious side if he could. Virgil knew every single thing that sent his walls crumbling to the ground and left his emotions exposed.

But unlike what Roman does sometimes which was make fun and poke at him for doing it. Or rather Patton which makes a huge fuss over the emotions to the point where everyone knows about it and just won’t shut up about it.

Virgil…

Virgil doesn’t do any of that. Rather he’s gentle. More caring and even though he has seen his bare emotions he still treats him like he’s important. That he should be listened to. That he’s still a professional. It made him feel wanted and dare he say it? Loved. Only Virgil could do that. And he never wants it to stop.

His thoughts were ripped away as he felt the bag of coffee grounds being taken from his grasps. It took Logan a few seconds to process what happened and to gather up his wits but by that time he could see Virgil smirking at him clinging the bag close to his chest and sticking out his tongue. “Don’t blame me. I gonna get some advantage against you! Catch me if you can, L!”

Logan rolled his eyes as Virgil dashed out of the kitchen shaking his head at his childlike boyfriend. “Virgil Sanders don’t run in the kitchen!”

But he was already hopping up the stairs cackling like a maniac.

Logan had to run after him hearing Virgil’s door close as soon as he made it up the stairs and a click indicating he locked it. He sighed again as he sunk out and into his room smirking and crossing his arms as Virgil squeaked loudly.

“Forgot we can do that huh?”

Virgil chuckled a bit rubbing the back of his neck, “M-Maybe?”

“Now would you go to sleep, V?”

“Never! And you can’t make me!”

Logan smiled as he raised an eyebrow, “Oh really?”

He took a few steps towards Virgil who widened his eyes and tried to take a few steps back but fell onto his bed with a small thud along with the bag. He tried to scurry away from the logical side but Logan wasn’t going to let him. With a small hop, he placed himself down on the bed beside Virgil and wrapped his arms around the smaller side. He pulled the tugging side closer to his chest all the while laughing as Virgil tried to wiggle out.

“Logan! No! Logan! This isn’t fair!”

Logan wrapped his legs around the other all but practically spooning him completely in his chest and laughed loudly as Virgil huffed.

“Well, you are mean you know that?”

Logan kissed his forehead, “I’m not mean V, I’m just looking out for you.”

Virgil’s cheeks grew in size as he huffed, “I know…” He buried his face into his chest some more and Logan brought over the blankets to make sure he’s more comfortable.

“You sure are tiny V are you sure you’re not shrinking in size?”

Virgil laughed, “Hey! Really? Now you’re pushing it. I’m perfectly average height for my age, thank you very much. You’re the one who’s freakishly tall!”

Logan laughed harder at that raising his hands a bit, “Hey don’t blame me just cause I was formed this way and you were formed ridiculously small. It’s honestly really cute you know that?”

“You take that back! I’m not cute! I’m a living nightmare!”

“My living adorable nightmare. Now go to sleep I’ll wake you up for lunch in a few hours how does that sound?”

Virgil was quiet for a moment as if debating before he slumped in defeat. “Fine… Just don’t leave me alright? I um…had a nightmare last night…and couldn’t get back to sleep…”

That made Logan worry. So that’s why he didn’t get much sleep last night…Virgil used to have nightmares almost every night, mostly about them, but he thought the past few months, after they got together and talked a bit, that they were starting to fade. He guessed not completely. Well, he’s always there for the other no matter what.

He brought over one of his hands to soothe Virgil’s hair softly and as he did he could hear Virgil let out a small purr at the movement, “Why didn’t you wake me up V? You know my door is always opened throughout the night, no matter what time.”

Virgil ruffled against his chest and clothes breathing out a long breath as he mumbled, “I didn’t want to wake you up… You looked comfy and um… I’ve bothered you enough in the middle of the night I thought I could handle this one… Turns out after staring at the walls for hours watching the sun come up that… Maybe I do need you still after all.”

Logan sighed softly now feeling bad that he didn’t sense something was wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Virgil shook his head, “It’s all over with now right? I didn’t want to concern you about it this morning so…yeah. Just um…please don’t leave? I don’t want it to return..”

“Of course my Star. Whatever you need. I’ll be here. But please remember that no matter what you can wake me up if you’re having a bad night alright? I don’t care if I’m asleep like that okay? I don’t want you to suffer like that when I can help you.”

He felt Virgil nod after a few minutes of silence then a silent, “I’m sorry…”

“Hey hey no it’s okay. I’m not mad at you. Just don’t do that again okay?”

One more nod and a ruffle of movement.

“I love you, L.”

“Love you too, my Stardust.“ He mumbled quietly as he kissed the other’s soft hair.

#virgil sanders #virgil #logan sanders #logan #analogical #romantic analogical #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #my fics #thomas sanders #seriously every analogical fic i write ends with them cuddling #like??#not that im complaining or anything but like?????#aaahhhh

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osmw1 · 4 years

Text

Crowbar Nurse Chapter 12 — The Lamer the Technique, The Stronger the Kiryū

My consciousness resurfaced from the depths of a deep dreamless slumber, similar to the feeling of waking from anesthesia… or so I’ve been told by my patients.

My tongue squirmed, trying to rehydrate the dryness in my mouth. I surveyed my surroundings while still lying down… I knew where I was.

Uptown — the second stage of the Emergency Partition Plan and lovingly nicknamed Safehouse by fans of the game.

We managed to make our way here at last…

A sigh of relief trickled from my lips was followed by another deep lungful in, but the dry air cut my trachea as if I were breathing in razor blades.

Glimpses of the bare, windowless room peeked through the impenetrable red iron door. Where I had lain wasn’t a bed, but something closer to a bench you’d find in the waiting area of a hospital. The air in here was musty, evident that this room has long since seen visitors. And it was also dry because the air conditioning units lack a humidification feature?

Though glad as I was to make it here safe and sound, equal amounts of bitterness welled up in me, cursing the reality of the situation: This was no dream.

I’m not sure how we got in. Normally, you’d need to find a hidden NPC or the key in a secret room… well, I suppose I should count my blessings.

Lying here all day wouldn’t do us any favors. I sat up while taking another large breath.

“Finally awake, I see. It’s a shame that you are not dead.” “… Oh, it’s you, Elizabeth.”

Some distance away, the voice emanated from an office chair that looked to be built by the lowest bidder. The sour look on her face indicated the fruit she was munching on might have been as well.

“You fainted as soon as things had settled down. Kiryū turned pale as a ghost, fearing that he had pushed you too hard.” “Oh, jeez… Sorry about that. That was poor timing though, seeing things haven’t settled down. Not until we reach the safehouse, at least.” “We were fine. Sure, we might have taken a few wrong turns, but we managed to stumble our way here alright. It was nothing we couldn’t handle on our own… so he said. You have been running on fumes and working long hours, haven’t you? Adrenaline only gets you so far before your body clocks out.”

With her hand clutching her temple, Elizabeth looked just as poorly. More jarring was how tied around her ankles was a makeshift rope fashioned from bedsheets.

“Speaking of which, where is Kiryū anyway?” “Him? He took two NPC’s with him to the supermarket in search for more food. … look at this. All this just to make sure I wouldn’t kill you.” “Hmm? What about it?” “These sheets are all part of Kiryū’s contraption. He tied my ankles to the lever that opens the door so that if I were to force my way towards you, the zombies would all rush in.” “Wow.” “He even went around confiscating any objects large enough to be a weapon and tucked it underneath the bed you’re sleeping on.

She looked helpless all tied up like that. … Kiryū sure is cautious. But that makes it even weirder for someone so cautious to run out on his own, leaving behind me and Elizabeth, a potential threat. I guess I should first check the place where a rifle should be… Wait, what?! There’s only a pistol and a shotgun here!

“… I wonder if he’d be alright with just two NPC’s…”

I mumbled as I sat up from the leather bench. Why did he go and do that? I mean, you can have up to five soldiers in your—err, survivors following you at the same time.

“He said he was going to recruit the NPC’s that he left behind at the start of the game. I suppose he is also going to take the chance to level up as well.” “Why is he in such a… Oh, maybe he’s worried about the seven-day limit.” “What limit?” “So, after seven days pass in this game, an endless amount of zombies will come and overrun you and that means game over.” “How awful.” “I know, right? Such a shame, especially because it’s such a fun game.”

I awkwardly chuckled before taking a sip of water from a plastic bottle underneath the bench, instantly dissolving the parchedness from before.

“… Sorry that we left you just lying there.”

Her words slowly stumbled out,

“That Kiryū really wanted to help, but besides you, none of us knew how to use syringes. Stuffing your mouth with herbs couldn’t wake you up either.” “Yes, I suppose Medicinal Herbs don’t help with fainting.” “Right…”

Elizabeth’s response marked the end of the topic. I looked towards her to see the remainder of half-eaten fruit resting on her lap and her lips sucked in. She must have been fraught, nervous.

Shoot. How do I break this awkward silence…?

My nursing training can come into play here. Hark, thee! … Umm, I learned this technique called assertive communication in class… What was the trick to it again?

“… The air in here sure is dry.”

Panic beset me and the words that came out were nothing but unengaging small talk.

“Yes… I suppose powering down the air conditioning would help.”

Elizabeth followed up with the pointless topic I offered, perhaps similarly hoping to cast away the awkwardness.

“I already tried doing so with the controls on the wall but to no avail. Perhaps the cooling system is centrally controlled. The air conditioning in the lecture halls at my university were just as annoying too.” “Oh, maybe, yeah… Speaking of which, what did you study in university?” “If we know too much of each other, it would just be awkward if either of us dies. … I mean, if you really want to know, I suppose I do not mind telling you that I am licensed for early childhood education, elementary school education, and childcare—where I currently work.” “Wow! That must’ve been a lot of hard work.” “It certainly was… and I was frequently rewarded with unlawful overtime. Hard work sure pays off.”

She turned her gaze upwards and unto the ceiling; I couldn’t help but to sigh too.

“It’s tough before and after graduating, hey? I guess I’m in the same boat as you. Being thrown into this world sure is scary, but also, being torn away from my super overworked lifestyle isn’t the worst thing either. I mean, it’d be bad if we were trapped here forever though.”

At the very least, I was able to share a laugh in agreement with Elizabeth.

“I wholly understand you. There really isn’t too much you can do with your own powers to escape the confines of a terrible job. Perhaps this world was created as… something like respite care. Less than likely though…” “Hey, Elizabeth?”

Though interrupting the girl deep in thought, I managed to find resolve and approached Elizabeth.

“I’m wondering if you could tell me a little about what you know about this world.” “…” “I don’t see myself surviving if we continue on like this. More importantly, though, someone important to you died so that you could return to the real world, am I right…?” “What makes you think so?”

Her voice strained and wavered.

“Gamer sense,” I said with a shrug and a smile, and continued.

“I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but that’s probably the reason why that a know-it-all like you is hurting. But even then, you’ve experienced something very painful, haven’t you?” “You’re…”

Her voice trailed off and the safehouse sunk back to a silence. Not an awkward like before, but a silence for scrambling thoughts.

“… it isn’t as if I know more than the very basics.”

There was another good length of time before Elizabeth expanded on her thoughts.

“There’s seemingly an administrator in this game.” “An administrator?” “At the very least, that is what they called themselves. Perhaps it would be more prudent label them as the creator of this world. Someone or something with a twisted sense of purpose. We stand no chance of overcoming that being for as long as we share the same world.”

An overpowered being.

She continues,

“I don’t know of what it wants. What I do know is that all the people who get summoned here are always exhausted and one of them are designated as the ‘core’.” “What happens if you get picked to be core?” “Nothing comes from it… No, actually, they get to bring an electronic device, like a phone or a laptop. With it, you can check who is in which game and to travel between game worlds. You know that already though.” “Right, I remember.” “The games available are… Well, last time, they were all games which the core had played lots. It may be the same this time around. We also never have successfully charged the device last time, so use your phone with great caution.” “Argh… I’ll try my best not to check my phone. Let me actually just turn it off…” “A sage idea.”

Elizabeth concurred with a nod.

“Till this day I have no idea what it… the Administrator wants. Maybe it’s some sort of alien with unfathomable technology, or maybe it’s some time traveler hoping to destroy all wage slaves. Or maybe, it’s the vengeful spirit of someone who was worked to death. I don’t know.” “…” “You’re thinking it sounds ridiculous. But honestly, that is all I know. From the two times I have been through this, the bastard is possibly recreating these game worlds with an emulator or something. Our consciousnesses is then pulled over to this side then assigned to the physical bodies of characters from various video games. And then…” “If the core dies, does that mean… everybody else gets liberated?” “… Yes, there is that as well.”

Her assent was marked with discomfort, but I was only looking for the facts. I assured her that was the case and there was no need to feel guilty for it before further probing her.

“Just for reference, when was the first time you were brought to this side?” “The spring of 2014. The second time was… autumn in 2016. I truly have no luck with workplaces.” “Was it the first or the second time that you witnessed the death of the core?” “The second. First time around, I had returned before I knew what was going on. I suppose the core was killed, but I have no idea. For both cases though, I ended up simply losing conscious for about a week in the real world.” “I see. And have you beaten the world, like, as a game before?” “No.” “Okay. Have you ever been chosen as the core?” “No… The core for my second time here was someone who I got to know well. A good friend.” “That… that must’ve been tough.” “Yes, I suppose.”

In a sense, discomfort, but more so a mournful pain marked her confirmation this time. No doubt that it was an excruciating experience.

“She told me she worked at a bank and that she liked games. Perhaps people who like to game are more likely to be chosen to be the core… Or perhaps not. I mean, I game quite a lot too.” “Ya boy’s a hardcore gamer himself too.”

A third voice interjected and joined our conversation. I looked up without thinking; Elizabeth whipped around in a startle. Behind her stood Kiryū and the unstoppable hellish army in tow. He’s… really looking like something else. The buggy was filled to the brim with supplies. Various weapons and ammunition were dangling from each soldier, tied on with the makeshift rope. Among everyone else, though, Kiryū was carrying the heaviest load: Nick. The frozen protagonist was cradled to his back with what seems to be a baby sling made with the same reused bedsheets.

“Sounds like liking video games is the requirement for being transported to this dimension and not for being chosen as the core. There’s probably ‘nother factor we’re missin’.”

How can someone be so cool when he speaks but look so lame cradling an adult baby?

“Since when did you return?!”

Elizabeth couldn’t hide the fact that he took her by surprise. There’s something else though. She looks tenser than she was before. Being threatened to be eaten by zombies and being held prisoner would do that you. Conscious of that, I interrupted the two of them.

“Hey, Kiryū! Hey! We were in the middle of a serious conversation just now. Which part did you start listening in from?” “Pretty much from the beginning.”

He severed the connection between Elizabeth’s ankle and the door lever with a knife. His knot seemed to be too tight to be untied by hand. Kiryū’s really not going easy on her, huh? No, it’s more than that. Look closely—isn’t he gritting his teeth like he’s Harry Callahan?

“It must’ve been really hard for you to hold back from ridiculing her theories, I bet.” “… you don’t know the half of it! How the hell would an emulator be capable of recreating worlds, let alone transferring consciousnesses?! That’s too much fiction to your science. What, do we all have electrodes sticking into our brains or somethin’ right now? No, wait, you’re right. We’re in the middle of an alien abduction because that’s totally what it is.” “Yeesh, okay, I get you. Jeez. We were just chatting, y’know? Just wondering about the what ifs. Smiling and nodding can be the key skill to good communication, Kiryū.” “That’s a skill I couldn’t care less about. Unfortunately, I can’t help but to call you two out on your scientific inaccuracies. I’m in too deep with machines both as work and as a passion to care about interpersonal relationships.” “In too deep with machines? Are you some sort of inventor?” “In a sense… Like, I do a lot of benchmarking. I love running benchmarks on every video card that comes on the market.” “… Where’s the fun in that?”

Fed up with our conversation, Elizabeth heaved a sigh. Kiryū untied his sling and threw Nick off of his back and onto the ground.

“Kiryū! There’s only one Nick in the game, so treat him better!” “As if. More of him popped up at the beginning of the level. I also took the chance to secure a large batch of unlimited ammo rifles too.” “Uh… what?!” “I explored a bit of the map we’re in right now… Just a bit ahead in the game is the Shooting Range, right?” “Um, yes, that’s right.” “I found a really rudimentary bug there.”

He had a smug smile as he looked around at our army.

“So, you know how when you’re at the range, you can shoot your guns dry, leave, and come back to them at max ammo, right?” “Oh… that’s right. It was like that in the game as well.” “I tried it out with the pistol first. I shot it until I was out of ammo, left the gun on the ground, and then left the range… What do you think happened?” “… What happened?” “A fully loaded pistol appeared in Nick’s hand. I went back inside, and the empty gun was still just lying there.” “… Whoa, no kidding! That means you can generate endless guns like that!” “Bingo! Awesome, right? Just like you said, we can do that to get as many guns as we want. But it seems like we can only duplicate guns available at the range, so I couldn’t get any more combat knives. I’ve seen similar bugs in other games, so that got me thinkin’ if I could get it to work here… but there you have it.”

There were no other words other than “smug” to describe Kiryū’s face. I took a careful look and noticed all of the soldiers were wielding assault rifles with unlimited ammo. Not only that, but every soldier had a bedsheet baby sling and a Nick on their backs. We had more in our army than I could count. There were at least twenty of them in the room.

“Wait, what about the five-follower limit… Oh, I get it! Nick’s a player character too!” “That’s exactly it. Each Nick we have, we get five more soldiers.” “Awesome! We’re duplicating everything!” “Pretty good thinking, eh?” “Oh, boy, this is going to be so much fun!” “I hate to admit it, but I’m getting a little excited too.” “… What in heaven’s name are you talking about…?”

Left behind in our excitement was Elizabeth, who didn’t understand any of it. Someone who doesn’t even know who Sera is of course wouldn’t know anything about zombie games. It took a thorough explanation of the game’s system for her to finally follow along.

“I see. Well, in any case, it’s plain to see you have accomplished something incredible. Still, why has Nick multiplied?” “When I began to take Nick away from start of this level, the game kept wanting to return Nick to the proper spawn location for the level change. And since there wasn’t a limit, I just kept doing it until I had about twenty Nicks.” “How curious. Nick would disappear from your hands and be returned to the spawn area… is that not a little weird?” “Well, it’s a bug. Normally in the game, it’s neither possible to leave a gun at the range nor is it to take the protagonist away before the game even starts. Can’t say I’ve expected any of this to happen the way it did.” “This world is very curious indeed. Kinda makes you wish that the creators made up their mind whether they wanted a survival horror or a sci-fi game. Oh, right! Let’s dupe the grenade launcher afterwards. We shouldn’t have access it to it just yet, but I’ve got an idea how to get our hands on one.” “What are you planning on doing with all this firepower…?”

After seeing the sly smiles on our faces, Elizabeth was utterly fed up with us. However, seeing where we were now, what other choices did we have? We’re gamers after all.

“First, let’s go and beat this game. You don’t know what that’s like though, right, Elizabeth? We’re going to take total control of this zombie-infested world with our superior firepower. Maybe on your first time here, someone else went and cleared the game and that’s how you got out. You never know.”

As soon as I said that, a terrible roar echoed in the background.

■Kiryū, II

A software engineer who is… supposedly very cautious. Nevertheless, he lets his guard down around Sera, but that should prove to be fine. Thirty years of age but acts like a smug twenty-three-year-old when he discovers bugs. Kiryū may seem to be too cruel towards Elizabeth, but perhaps he is normally this suspicious towards women—or rather, anybody. Though it may be inevitable due to personal reasons, nevertheless, it does not detract from the fact that he is too wary.

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /next/

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thepokyone · 6 years

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Renegade

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Content/Warnings: Fluff; angst if you squint

Words: 1050

A/N: So this is the last on my list of requests for Soulmate AUs... which means I’ll be releasing the list of AUs I’ll be continuing a little later this afternoon, so stay tuned! This was a request from anon for 40. If your soulmate is listening to music, you can hear it too, and it gets louder the closer you are to them.

You were fortunate that you enjoyed listening to classic rock. You weren’t completely sure if you actually liked the music, or if it was just an acquired taste, but whatever the case, you were lucky none the less. Primarily because your soulmate listened to nothing but classic rock all the time, but at the very least he listened to a variety of artists. Otherwise, it would get pretty old pretty quick.

Usually, the music you heard was muffled, though loud enough to be reasonably heard. It signaled that your soulmate was close by, and despite this, you never went out to look for him. There was a part of you that was scared you would somehow be disappointed. The sound of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck was currently being played by your soulmate, a bit louder and clearer than normal as you walked. You heard people gasping and pointing upwards, and you glanced to the sky in time to see Iron Man swooping overhead. The music your soulmate was listening to seemed to come from your own earbuds as the superhero flashed overhead, close enough to ruffle your hair from the wind left behind.

“No way,” You mumbled, staring upwards with an awestruck expression. Yours, however, was for a very different reason - you were ninety percent sure that Tony Stark was your soulmate. Though how to tell the billionaire that, and actually get him to believe you? Reasonably, the chances were slim. But, as your mother always said, soulmates found a way.

Somehow, it seemed, she was right. You had spent an almost embarrassingly proportionate amount of time lingering around Stark Tower, in the hopes that you would somehow run into Tony Stark and maybe get a chance to talk to him. Though, meeting him outside his tower like some sort of stalker fangirl wasn’t quite how it happened, which was probably for the best.

Your earbuds were situated firmly in your ears as you jogged home, hoping to get back before the streets became infested with some of the more undesirable city nightlife. Guns ‘N Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle was playing, blocking out the Styx song that Tony Stark was, in all likelihood, playing. It wasn’t that you disliked the song, but you had heard it four times within the past hour and needed a bit of variety. The track switched to Foreigner’s Jukebox Hero as you rounded the corner, your step momentarily pausing at the men gathered around the streetlight.

Heightening your resolve, you picked up the pace and continued, staggering when you were slammed harshly against the wall. Your earbuds were yanked out, the crystal clear sound of Ozzie’s Crazy Train now playing instead. Even that sound abruptly stopped, leaving only silence behind. “We got ourselves a winner, boys!”

They were obviously intoxicated, the smell of beer rancid on their breath as they gave sinister laughs. You were terrified. And then, as if summoned, Iron Man dropped down from the sky, landing lightly behind them. “Wow, only ten o’clock and you’re already drunk? You really don’t know how to hold your liquor.”

“Oh shit,” One gasped, talking off in a clumsy run down the road. The rest followed not far behind, leaving you with Iron Man in the middle of the street.

“You alright there? They didn’t rough you up too bad, did they?” He asked, flipping his faceplate upwards. It wasn’t like Tony Stark being Iron Man was a secret.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” You said appreciatively. “I owe you one.”

“Nah, that’s my job,” He said, shooting you a wink and motioning towards your earbuds. “What were you listening to?”

“Uh, Jukebox Hero, I think,” You recalled, popping one of the buds into your ears. If he really was your soulmate, you should at least get some sort of reaction from that. “Eye of the Tiger now, though.”

“How about that,” He said. “You like classic rock?”

“Who doesn’t?” You retorted. Tony Stark was a lot more down to earth than you originally imagined him being. “But if I hear Renegade by Styx one more time today, I’m going to lose my mind.”

He looked sheepish, and you knew he had figured it out. “Hey, that’s a good song.”

“It’s alright, I guess,” You agreed. “I think I prefer AC/DC, though. Thunderstruck is one of my favorites.”

“That is a good one. Do you need a lift home?” He asked.

“I’m only a block away now, I think I’m good,” You told him. Maybe the two of you weren’t soulmates? He hadn’t said anything about it.

“Alright then,” He nodded. “Have a safe night.”

Your heart sunk to your feet as you nodded and Stark flipped down his faceplate, shooting off into the sky. You resumed your walking, shoving your hands in your pockets. A few moments later, Renegade started playing once more. You scowled, pausing momentarily to yell at the sky. “Would it kill you to CUT IT OUT WITH RENEGADE ALREADY!”

“So that song really does annoy you!” Tony Stark’s triumphant voice came from behind you, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as he landed and stepped out of his Iron Man suit. “I thought it was you. Had to make sure, though. You would not believe the amount of people - guys and girls alike - that have tried to fake being my soulmate.”

“Well, in their defense, you are pretty easy on the eyes.” You couldn’t believe you just said that.

He gave a cheeky grin, pressing a button in his suit, which folded down into a briefcase. “So I’ve been told. And rich, too, which doesn’t help. Here, I’ll walk you home, since you’re so set on it. Instead of, you know, flying back with your cool genius soulmate.”

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly. “You’re ridiculous. But if it means that much to you, flying back would no doubt be awesome.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Tony said, transforming his suit back and stepping inside. “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”

You refrained the urge to give the suit a playful punch, knowing it would hurt you more than it would hurt him. “You better not.”

Tony gave you a tap on the nose with an armored finger, arms wrapping securely around you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

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throwmeinarkham · 7 years

Text

Just a Bite

Alright so this is a little more complicated than usual. I got a request a while back asking for a imagine with an anorexic reader and how Joker would react and whatnot. This can be a very very sensitive subject. I haven’t gone through this and I don’t know if I depicted it in the right way at all. I would like to point out that I do not condone or support this mental illness but I can understand how reading about a mental illness can help sometimes, it helped me when I needed it.

So to my amazing readers, if this helps at all I am thrilled that I could play a part in your recovery and I support you every step of the way. I believe in you.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Verbal abuse ( ish ??), depictions of anorexia, mental illness

As always, if you have any feedback or constructive criticism please don’t hesitate to send me an ask or a message. I am taking requests but there is not guarantee on when it will be done by. Thanks my loves!

Without further ado:

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Even though J’s house was fricken huge there was nothing to do. All you did was roam and explore but it had gotten old. You had roamed and explored every nook and cranny of his extravagant house. Walking down one of the many hallways, you admired each piece of artwork that adorned the walls and the beautiful gold laced vases that were placed meticulously all over the halls. God these must cost a fortune, you thought to yourself.

The day dragged on and on and on without him here, you seemed to always be patiently waiting for his return. You found yourself sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush on your phone, same thing you did everyday, that’s what happens when you’re his girl and he barely lets you leave the house without him. You perked up when you remembered that the house had surround sound speakers. Solo dance party. You grinned and ran to the main console and plugged in your phone. You hummed and hahed about what to listen to and finally settled on Keep Me Crazy by Sheppard. It was nice and upbeat, perfect for dancing. You blasted the music and ran through the house.

You jumped, you twirled, you sang, you danced and it was the most fun you had had in a while. You were able to let loose and let go. The fun all ended when you heard a crash and looked behind you. You had collided with one of his expensive vases, the biggest one, no doubt worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do, what do I do?” you spoke to yourself. You gripped at your hair frantically trying to think of a quick solution. You kicked yourself for being so reckless. J was gonna kill you.

As if on cue you heard the from door swing open.

“Baby girl! I’m home, come to daddy,” he hollered throughout the house.

“Uhm… I’m busy! Can’t come, sorry!.” You scrambled for a last minute solution. You heart raced as you heard his footsteps come up the stairs.

“Hello doll how are y- What the hell happened here Y/N?” he said as he rounded the corner. You stared at him speechless, thinking of something you could possible say to help the situation.

“Hi baby! How was your day? What did you get up to?” you said in a falsely happy voice as you walked towards him. He was seething. You could tell by the way his fists were clenched, how his jaw was tilted slightly downwards, how his shoulders were slowly rising and falling with everything deep breath he took. He was livid. You had seen him this angry before but never at you. Sure he had gotten mad, but never like this. If looks could kill, you would be 6 feet under.

“Fucking answer me Y/N,” he muttered in a voice that was all too calm for the situation.

“Well… I was bored so I figured I would put on some music and dance for a while and I backed up and didn’t see the vase and kinda knocked it over. I’m so sorry J. I really didn’t meant to. I just didn’t see it! I’m sorry, please don't be mad,” you pleaded. He glared at you with more anger than you had seen in quite a while.

“You… God Y/N you and your fucking fat ass always fucking breaking shit. God will you lose all that fuckin’ weight already. I can’t have people thinking that I’ve settled for a fat bitch,” he yelled.

Your weight had always been an issue for you and he knew that. You had never been like the “other girls”. You were always a little more round in the hips, waist a little wider, bustier for sure, and a butt so big apparently you could knock things over. Your eyes started to accumulate tears as his words really sunk in. You were in shock, frozen in place, at a loss of words. You snapped back to reality and bowed your head. He was right. You could lose a few pounds, you weren’t very thin, not how you should be.

“You’re right…” you mumbled and turned away, heading to the shared bedroom. You wanted to rip off all the fat, you wanted to cut it off, any way possible. You’ll diet, you’ll stop eating entirely, you’d do anything. Anything for him to love you…

———————————————————————————————————

It had been weeks since you had talked to him. You had decided to leave for a while, take a break from him. You went and stayed at a friends place for a while. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat after what he had said and it had really started to take a toll on you physically and mentally.

“Hey Y/N. Can we have a chat?” Your friend gingerly sat beside you on the couch you had been sleeping on. You nodded and looked over at her. “Are you okay? You won’t tell me much and I’m totally okay with that, whenever you’re ready, but you’ve been here for 3 weeks and I haven’t seen you eat anything at all and you’re just not looking too good. Is everything okay?” You shrugged and looked at her with empty eyes.

“I don’t know. I guess I just haven’t been hungry lately.” That was a lie. You were starving but you refused to eat. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t. His words rang in your ears constantly. A constant reminder of what you were to him, fat.

“You should try and talk to him… As much as I don’t support your relationship I think it would be healthy if you talked to him to clear the air, to get some closure y’know?” You nodded in acknowledgment.

“Alright well maybe in a while, I still need some time to recover. I’ll be out of here as soon as possible, I’ve been looking for places and I shouldn’t be here much longer.”

“Okay, well if you need anything let me know, I’m always here for you Y/N.”

——————————————————————————————————

A couple more weeks had gone by sleeping on Y/BF/N’s couch before you moved in to the tiny quaint apartment on the cheaper side of town.

Your phone started buzzing beside you. Looking at the caller ID and seeing that it was Y/BF/N.

“Hey girl, how’s it going?” You answered.

“Hey, not so bad. Just wanted to check up on you, we haven’t talked in a while since you moved out. You’ve been there for what? 2 months now?” You hummed a little and stayed quiet. “So… how are you doing?” Admittedly, you weren’t good. You hadn’t really eaten since you left him and it was starting to show. Your hip bones popped out a little more than before, your clothes were a little too loose, you were dwindling away slowly.

Maybe he’ll love me now, you thought to yourself. You stood in front of the mirror analyzing yourself. You still weren’t skinny enough. A harsh knock on your door broke you out of your trance. you threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top and ran to the door. You creaked in open a tiny sliver to see who the hell could be standing at your door at 11 pm. The first thing you noticed was the signature purple alligator coat. Your eyes trailed up and noticed his blinding green hair.

“Open the door will ya doll?” His voice sounded through the crack in the door. You quickly and quietly pushed the door shut and locked all of the locks you had set up on your door for this reason specifically. “You know I will push down this door if you don’t open it.”

“Fine but I’m keeping the top lock locked,” you said.

“Y/N just open the god damn door. I swear I will kick this door down if you don’t open it,” he said sternly. You released a heavy sigh and unlocked the door fully. He shoved past you and in to the small living room. “This is where you’ve been living?” He asked with a disgusted looked on his face.

“You know, not all of us have a ridiculous amount of money to spend,” you retorted, defending your small abode. He turned and looked you up and down taking in your gaunt figure. You covered up in shame, the memories of his words playing at the back of your mind.

“What happened to you?” he inquired. You shrugged and looked at the floor, unable to meet his daunting gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… you’re just… so skinny. What happened?” You shook your head and bit your lip hard to avoid the tears that threatened to spill. You played with your fingers to distract from the heat of his gaze.

“I think you should go now,” you mumbled, hoping he would hear you. He reached forward and grabbed your wrist, inspecting the thin expanse, running his thumb over the protruding bones of your thin arm. You yanked away your hand and wrapped your arms around your torso, hiding your body.

“Y/N, answer me. Now,” he demanded.

“It’s none of your business. You have to go.”

“God Y/N, when was the last time you ate?” You shrugged your shoulders, honestly not sure. Maybe a bite of an apple a couple days ago? you thought to yourself. “Y/N…” he threatened.

“I don’t know… maybe like an hour ago,” you lied.

“No Y/N tell me the truth. I can tell you’re lying.”

“I don’t know, like a couple days ago maybe?” you answered quietly. He stared at you with broken eyes laced with pity. “And don’t you dare get mad or pity me or lecture me because this is all your fault J! All your fucking fault. It’s your god damn fault that I can’t eat something without throwing up. It’s your damn fault that none of my damn clothes fit. It’s all your fault,” you yelled, repeatedly pounding your fists against his chest, tears flowing freely. He stood speechless in front of you, not even trying to refrain you from hitting his chest.

“What are you talking about? How the hell is this my fault?” he countered. You stared at him, your heart breaking even more than it already was. He doesn’t remember. Not one bit, you thought to yourself. You felt your knees give out slightly, causing you to tumble to the ground letting out a loud sob.

“God you don’t even remember. You don’t even remember what you said to me that made me fall in to this… this pit of fucking sadness and despair. You don’t even remember what you fucking said. That’s rich. You need to leave now. You need to go. I’d be better off without you anyway,” you said with a defeated look on your face. He fell down to his knees beside you.

“Y/N, look at me.” You shook your head, refusing to look at the man who changed you entirely. “I’m gonna help you get better Y/N. I’m gonna do everything I can. You’re not my Y/N…” He looked at you with pity in his icy stare.

“No J. I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own. I’ve been fine for the past two months without you. I’m fine. At least I’m not fat…” you mumbled the last part almost inaudibly.

“Fat? Who the hell said you were fat?” He stared at you as if you were crazier than he was. You countered his stare with a look of utter disbelief.

“You’re not serious right now, are you?”

“Who said it. I’ll have their head on a plate. No one does that to my girl,” he said, rage filling his voice.

“You did it J. You said it. You said I was fat. You said that you had settled for a fat bitch. You said so many hurtful things. You made me like this. I am a shell of who I used to be but I thought maybe if I lost all that weight then you’d want me again but I was wrong. I’m not skinny enough.” He stared at you with an open mouth, the memories of his harsh words flooding back.

“Doll…” He was speechless, at a blank as to what he could say to fix this. “I… I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re perfect kitten, you always have been. Now lets get some food in that belly of yours,” he spoke in an apologetic tone as he gripped your bicep in an attempt to pull you off the ground.

“No. I’m not going with you. You hurt me so bad. So, so bad J. I’m broken because of you. Our relationship was toxic, I can’t do that to myself anymore. Go back to your old lifestyle with money, and parties, and girls that are better than me. Just forget about me.” You shakily stood up and walked towards the door, opening it to let the man you love leave.

“No Y/N. I’m not letting you stay here. I’m not letting you live like this. Do you even have anything in your fridge?” He walked over to the fridge and yanked the door open. All he found was some orange juice and some celery sticks that had gone bad. “Y/N you can’t do this to yourself. I take back everything I said. You’re perfect, I don’t care about your body. Your my queen, my partner in crime, the light of my life.” It broke his heart to see you in such a state but it broke his heart even more knowing that he was the cause of your hurting. He pulled you in to a warm embrace and held you against his firm chest. Your tears left wet spots on his burgundy dress shirt. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Come home with me Y/N. I need you. Please Y/N, I can’t stand seeing you like this,” he begged. You gave a slight nod and followed him out of the home you only knew briefly.

“I can’t forgive you for what you said J. At least not yet.” He hummed, acknowledging what you said. “I mean J, look what you did to me.”

Getting better, getting back to who you were, the Y/N that you loved was going to be hard, there was no doubt about that but it was a day to day process. Each day you would eat a small bit, half an apple, a carrot, small things. Some days were better than others. Some days you fell right back to where you started, hating yourself, but there were good days too like the days you would feel his hand explore your body, praising you for the work you had put. He helped you a lot, he let you go at your pace, supporting you through everything, reminding you what a beautiful person you are.

———————————————————————————————————

5 weeks of hard work, tears, and breakdowns and you could see yourself getting better. You could see your hips becoming a little more filled, you could see a bit less of your sharp hip bones, your cheeks had turned back to their healthy glow. It was a work in progress but you were so proud of yourself for bringing yourself to where you are.

Things will get better. The words you used everyday to get you through the toughest of times.

You can do this.

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writing-crocodiles · 7 years

Text

Oatmeal Cookies- Chapter 1

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Rating: T

Summary: The boys all think that they are the catch of the century and the girls all think that there are no good men left on the planet. What's left to do? Bet on it, of course.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Thoughts on Magic Alright, the fact of the matter is that time travel completely possible; but it’s an absolute nightmare to do. If you take the baby from the equation it gets easier, but only marginally. Is time travel something that should be made easier, though? Honestly, you don’t want every loony with magic to be able to travel back. Everything would get messed up. I’ll have to research it more before next Saturday. Not that we’re going to look at it then, but I can’t ask Dad about it at the dinner table, now can I. Dad says next week we’re going to look further into animal communication, as per Rosie’s request.

Thoughts in General Mom still thinks when Dad and Rosie and I go to the cabin we’re playing board games or another type of father-daughter-son bonding. Well, she isn’t wrong, technically, but you would think she would have caught on by now that he’s teaching us magic. I mean, Rosie and I have been doing magic in the house. It’s so weird. Maybe she notices and doesn’t care? Probably not with the way she railed against Dad’s magic, but who knows.

______ Gideon’s eyes narrowed and he flipped the sword over in his hands, realizing how much of an improvement cowhide gloves were to bare skin. He planted his feet, which were unfortunately still in sneakers since he left his boots at home, and squared off.

Neal stood across the clearing dressed fully in leather. Seeing Gideon was ready he raised his sword. The tip shone in the sunlight that was able to make it through the trees. They stood in this position an odd amount of time, but both secretly knew the other was envisioning some sort of video-game-style fight intro.

Camera panning around them, zooming in on each of their faces respectively, showing their weapons, and finally zooming out to show where they stood relatively to each other.

Neal’s intro was apparently shorter than Gideon’s because he lunged before the latter had finished. He stepped out of the prince’s way, recovering brilliantly. Neal was unable to stop himself and plowed into a tree; the sword lodged in the tough wood.

Neal swore and put a foot next to where the sword met the pine. He tugged on the hilt with more force than necessary and he flew back, landing in the dirt.

There was laughter from a log on the edge of the clearing. Thereupon sat Rose, Gideon’s sister, and Patton Herman. They were playing a game of chess and only half watching the duel, but Neal took the fact she was laughing at him as a personal insult. He stood, red faced, and turned to his opponent again.

Gideon extended his hand and flicked his wrist. The sword slipped from his friend’s hands and soared up into the branches of the tree. It sunk into a particularly thick appendage and Neal scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Roooooose!” He whined, “Isn’t that cheating? Didn’t we agree ‘no magic’?”

Rose looked up from her game. She and Patton shared a look over the board and then she went back to contemplating her next move as she spoke.

“Actually,” she picked up her rook, “I don’t think we’ve ever talked about the possibility of magic during duels.” She smiled and placed her chess piece, “Checkmate.”

Patton muttered something about chess being a “stupid game, anyway” and swung his leg over the log to stand, pulling out his cell phone as he walked off into the forest.

Neal, still peeved what he considered cheating, went into a deep knee bend before excellently launching upward. He managed to grab the lowest branch and drag himself up, starting a journey to retrieve his sword.

“Hey, guys!”

The two Golds, who were the only ones left in the clearing, turned half-heartedly to see Evan Jones, as smiley as always, run in. The blond slung his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it at his feet, crouching down and unzipping it. The contents, perked Rose’s attention, included several brown paper sacks bearing Granny’s logo.

“Hey, Evan,” Gideon said, pulling off his gloves. His sister echoed the greeting and waved her hand over the chess board, making it disappear.

“Okay,” Evan said, picking out one of the bags of food, “I’ve got a hamburger- no onions, no pickles, mustard, ketchup,” he wrinkled his nose, “mayonnaise.” His reaction earned him a laugh from Gideon, “But seriously, who puts mayonnaise on a burger?”

Patton came back from his phone call in time to hear the last part, “I do, stupid.”

“Right….” Evan said slowly, he held out the bag and Patton ran over to collect his order. “Next is a cheeseburger with pickles.”

“Mine,” Gideon said, jogging forward.

“Bro, could you get me the cheeseburger with ketchup and lettuce?” Rose said from the log. She had laid down and put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

Gideon looked to Evan and he fished through the backpack to find the second sack of food before handing them both to the older boy.

“Okay, then I’ve got a grilled cheese from me and another one for Neal. Then a thing of lasagna for Gilbert.” Evan said, standing up with the three bags and looking around the clearing, “Where are they anyway?”

Gideon put his sister’s food next to her log and unwrapped his own food, “Well, Neal’s currently in a tree.”

On cue, Neal dropped down from the branches, sword back in the sheath at his side, “Gil’s on a date,” he said, going to Evan to take his order.

“No way,” Rose said, sitting up and taking an interest, “With who?”

“I think with Brenna, if I remember our conversation correctly,” Neal said, plopping onto the forest floor.

“You’re kidding,” Rose said, grinning at Evan.

Evan spat a curse and zeroed in on Neal, “Brenna as in Brenna Jones as in my sister Brenna?”

“Yes?” Neal answered, unsure where this was going. Digging in his pocket, Evan glared at Rose’s grin. He pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill and threw it at her. She stretched it out, folded it nicely, then transferred it to her own pocket.

“It was so weird when he told me, too,” Neal said, biting into his sandwich, he then continued with his mouth full, “I’m the one who is the catch of the group.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gideon said, stifling a laugh, “That’s not what Alex said.”

Patton took notice at the mention of his sister, “Why, what did Alex say?”

“Yeah,” Neal swallowed, “What did she say?”

“She said that Evan is the nicest and therefore most likely to be the first ‘to get laid’ out of this group,” Rose piped up, on a surprised look from Evan she shrugged, “I was there. That’s how she said it.”

“Unfair!” Neal roared suddenly, jumping to his feet, “Why doesn’t she think it would be me? I’m the obvious choice. I’m a prince!”

Gideon snorted, “Oh, yeah, and when was the last time you had a date, your highness?”

Neal paled as he thought about it and he sunk back to the ground, “I’m going to be alone forever.”

Laughter erupted from the group and as Neal tried to refute his statement, they only found it funnier. ______________________________ MEANWHILE, Robin Mills lay on the floor of her room with an assortment of other Storybrooke girls. They had fallen into a lull, all of them quietly staring at the ceiling. They were waiting from their friend Brenna to get back from a date they had all advised against, especially Brenna’s younger sister Keely.

For the third time in the hour that Brenna had been gone Robin slammed her fists on the carpet at her sides with a frustrated sigh.

“Why are there no good men in this town?”

Alexandra Herman, who honestly preferred Alex, gave the same answer she did anytime someone asked that poignant question, “I. Don’t. Know.”

Now, this exchange had already happened, and the other two times the four friends just let the room settle back into silence.

However, third times are a charm and all that, and this time Keely Jones, who was stationed on the bed, rolled over to sit up.

“What about Gideon Gold?” She said innocently, “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

Robin gave a disbelieving squeak of laughter and Alex found a pillow that had made its way to the floor to chuck at her friend’s head. Keely caught it.

“I’m serious,” she said, “Gideon’s, like, hot.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Alex said, “you do realize your dad would kill you if you got with a Gold, right?”

“I know….” Keely said, a girlish smile still in her eyes. She then turned to Akilah David, who had taken up in the windowsill. She didn’t seem to be paying attention and so Keely threw the pillow at her.

It was a good throw and nailed Akilah right in the back of the head. “Ow! What the hell, Keely?”

“What do you think?” Keely asked.

The girl in the windowsill blinked at the three pairs of eyes trained on her, “What do I think about what?”

Now Alex was curious, “What do you think about Gideon? As in a love interest type way.”

“Gideon? Emotionally thick. As dumb as a concrete wall,” Akilah said. Robin raised her eyebrows at her and she amended, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s very intelligent, but the poor guy is so stiff he wouldn’t know you were flirting with him even if you flat out told him that you were.”

Robin, Alex, and Keely shared a three-way look and Akilah caught it.

“What?” She snapped, “It’s true.”

“Are you willing to bet on it?” Robin asked.

Akilah scoffed, “Bet on what exactly?”

“We each try to get Gideon. The one who can earns twenty dollars a piece from the other three.”

“Robin, are you nuts?”

“Fifty.”

“Look, that doesn’t help,” Akilah said, amazed that Keely and Alex hadn’t protested yet.

“I’ll make that bet,” Keely said, “This will be super fun.”

So much for having friends back up her opinion, “This is ridiculous,” Akilah said, “this is a human being’s feelings we’re talking about.”

Robin pounced again, “One hundred dollars.”

“I’m in,” Alex said suddenly. All eyes were back on Akilah to make her decision.

She sighed and looked out the window, “Look, Robin, there has to be a time limit; if we go past… a month. If we go past a month then the bet is off.”

There was another three-way look.

“Deal,” Robin’s eyes were sparkling at the idea of this game.

Akilah took a second more to think and then, “And what does ‘get’ mean, exactly?”

“Let’s just say whoever he kisses first,” Keely said, “Just to make, like, a clear line.”

“Fair,” Alex said.

Another half a minute passed before Akilah caved.

“Fine. Deal.”

#ouat #Oatmeal Cookies #Next Generation #Storybrooke #Storybrooke AU #I have no idea what to tag this #ouat fic #gideon gold #robin mills #neal nolan

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this-is-a-chat-astrophe · 7 years

Text

Unmarked

Soulmate au oneshot full of Marichat

AO3

They always thought they’d be alone forever. There had been stories of people whose soulmate mark didn’t appear by their thirteenth birthday, but for their first thirteen years Marinette and Adrien thought it was only a story. When their birthdays came and passed, they knew.

Sometimes Adrien felt like that’s why his mother left, because he was defective. He thought maybe that’s why his father became cold. He felt truly lucky to at least have Nathalie, who was the closest thing to a parental figure in his life. Maybe the lack of a mark was why his father forbid him from attending school, to protect him from the ridicule and hate. It took years to convince his father to let him attend school. Whenever magazines asked about his mark, he lied and said it was a secret. Nobody speculated that he didn’t have one for two reasons; one, a lot of famous people refused to reveal their marks, and two, it was practically unheard of to not have one. The last case of an unmarked person was decades ago in the United States; there was no documentation of an unmarked in Paris in all of history.

Marinette’s family was much more understanding. They gave her options and kept their promise of unconditional love. Instead of being forced to hide, Marinette chose to be open. She did not advertise her lack of a mark, but whenever someone asked she told the truth. Some were disgusted, others confused. The bakery even lost some customers but her parents never blamed her for that. She wasn’t happy with the hand life dealt her but she was determined to make the most of it. Years of consoling words from her parents prepared her for a lonely life.

Then a misunderstood blond gave her an umbrella and everything changed. For the first time ever she felt a romantic attraction, a craving for love.

Marinette felt dirty. Adrien already belonged to someone, or at least that’s what she was lead to believe, so she had no right to those feelings.

She both loved and hated being Ladybug. She loved that she could lie about not having a mark and go unjudged. She hated feeling like she had to lie.

Ladybug had been asked several times about her soulmate, but nobody thought to ask Chat Noir.

Then, one day, they did.

“I don’t have one.”

It was a scandal, front page on all newspapers and news websites. Admiration towards the charming cat turned to an overwhelming amount of hate. People yelled at him in the streets, the same hurtful words Marinette heard in her civilian life. Adrien finally understood what his father protected him from.

Seeing the hate Chat faced, Ladybug couldn’t lie to him anymore. On a cold January evening patrol, shivering in her super-suit, she told him the truth.

“I don’t have a soulmate mark. I lied. I didn’t want the hate I face in my civilian life to get in the way of protecting Paris.” Marinette knew this confession would reveal her identity -Marinette was the open unmarked in all of France- but she couldn’t hide it from him anymore.

Chat Noir smiled, soft and sad; he’d seen the hate Marinette faced. Nobody was stupid enough to attack a superhero with the power of destruction, but a teenage girl was a much easier target. Luckily, she seemed a skilled enough fighter to generally take care of herself. However, Chat still occasionally dropped in when the odds seemed particularly skewed.

“Maybe this is our mark, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug laughed and burst into tears.

The next day, Marinette went to school feeling like a weight was lifted. The heroes decided to continue lying to the press -protecting Paris was hard enough with one half of the dynamic duo hated- but she felt better now that Chat knew the truth. She thought nothing could ruin her good mood.

Then she saw Freakshow graffitied on her locker. It’d been weeks since the last incident and foolishly let her guard down. She took out her books and did not cry. If anything, she was angry, but she held herself together.

To nobody’s surprise, Chloe tipped the scale and made Marinette snap. She was fine when greeted with “Oh look, the loser is here.” She walked calmly to her desk while Chloe said “How sad is it that nobody will ever love her.” It was Chloe’s next remark that made Mari’s blood boil and turned her vision red.

“It’s huge news that Chat Noir is unmarked too. Maybe that freak of nature will love her.”

Marinette threw her pen, leaving a streak of ink on Chloe’s jacket as it flew past. The blond’s mouth gaped.

“Chat is not a freak. You take that back!”

Chloe smirked. “Everyone in Paris has a mark except for you too. That obviously means you’re defective. The way he always screws things up for Ladybug makes him only slightly worse than you.”

Marinette lunged forward.

Chloe screamed.

Alya held Marinette back until the bell rang. Marinette took her seat, fuming. She had no pen.

Adrien visited Marinette that night as Chat Noir. They weren’t close as civilians and he felt that Chat Noir was better suited to comfort her.

He found her on the balcony, curled up in a blanket with a cup of steaming tea. “I heard about the fight at school.”

She opened her blanket to invite him in. The two sat side by side, the blanket draped over their shoulders. “We’re not ‘defective’.”

Chat rested his head on hers. “I know.”

They sat like that till the winter chill breached the blanket and Marinette ad to go inside.

On days when Marinette seemed really down and there wasn’t patrol, Chat visited her balcony. Whenever something upset her she went up there and waited, knowing he would come.

Then one night he didn’t.

Marinette’s day had been awful. On her way to school people yelled cruel words at her and one boy only slightly younger than her was bold enough to trip her on the busy street. Nobody offered to help her up but plenty of people trampled her things. Luckily Tikki hid in her jacket pocket that morning and went unharmed.

At school, her locker and desk had been covered in curses. Again. Chloe’s sunny disposition did not help but Mari tried her best to drown it out. Alya was out sick and nobody else dared to defend her.

After school Sabine sent her on an errand. The trip wasn’t far, only a few blocks, but she still managed to get shoved into an alley and ambushed by three older teenagers. On a good day she could hold her own long enough to find an opening to escape, but Alya’s cold spread to her and her usual agility faded. Luckily, someone stepped in. Unluckily, teenage model Adrien Agreste stepped in. The two put up a fight but weren’t fortunate enough to leave unharmed.

“It’s okay, just bruises and scratches.” He winced when he tried to smile. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”

That didn’t make him feel better.

Adrien escorted her on the rest of her journey to the grocery and back home despite her insistence that it was unnecessary and she was fine. They both knew it was a lie but didn’t say it.

Now she waited on her balcony with the blanket and tea, waiting.

The one time Adrien’s father paid attention to him and all he wanted was to escape. Gabriel sat at the far end of the table, a frown on his face as always, scolding his son for his recklessness.

By the time he released Adrien, it was late and he and Plagg were too tired to go out. Despite his nonchalance about his wounds, they hurt and there was no magical cure to fix them. He promised himself to visit early the next morning and leave a surprise.

But Marinette didn’t know that, so she fell asleep on the balcony with tears in her eyes. She was still there when Chaat arrived in the morning.

Chat originally felt bad coming so early but upon finding Mari sleeping outside he became glad. “Mari, wake up.” No answer. He nudged her with a gloved hand. “Mari, you fell asleep.” In a last ditch effort he said, “Oh no, Mari! You’re late for school!”

Marinette shot up, knocking the blanket to the floor with a scream. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Chat. “What’re you doing here?”

Her feline friend handed her a gift bag, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come last night. Family stuff. Apology gifts?”

“You don’t need to apologize and you definitely didn’t need to get me anything.” Sticking out the top of the bag was a bouquet of pink and white carnations. Underneath that wasa card.

“Read that after I leave, if that’s okay.”

She set it aside and pulled some fabric from the bottom of the bag. Unfolded, they were Agreste brand shirts and sweaters. Man’s Agreste brand shirts and sweaters.

Chat rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I remembered you saying you like that designer and I never wear those anymore and my friend told me that some people find it comforting to wear friend’s stuff when they can’t be around so I thought you might like those but if you don’t it’s totally okay.”

He didn’t expect a hug.

“Thank you. This is really nice of you.” Marinette picked out a light blue hoodie that matched her eyes.”Do you want to come inside? I can get us some croissants.”

Adrien took a few seconds to contemplate. He should go home before anyone notices him missing, but a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. “Just a few minutes, Princess, then I should go home.”

A few minutes turned into an hour as Marinette recounted the woes of her previous day. Chat wished he’d visited sooner and that he could stay longer, but he had to leave.

That school day wasn't so bad with her new blue sweater to keep her warm in the winter chill.

“Hey girl, is that new?”

Marinette beamed, nodding vigorously.

Nino looked behind him to see what they were talking about. Upon seeing the hoodie, he turned to Adrien. “Hey, dude, didn’t you have one like that?”

Adrien nodded all the while thinking shiiiiiiiit. “Yeh, it’s my dad’s brand.”

Mari sunk into her seat, the hooded sweatshirt engulfing her. It was a gift from a friend.”

Alya eyes her closely knowing Marinette had hardly any friends. She said nothing about it, though, knowing her friend would explain when she was ready.

Alya wasn’t a very patient person and ambushed Mari during lunch.

Mari sighed, knowing that Alya wouldn’t stop till she got an answer. “Come home with me for lunch and I’ll explain.”

The girls settled into Marinette’s room with food and tea. “Spill.”

“The sweater is from Chat Noir. We’re friends.”

As expected, Alya screamed. “Do you think you could ask him for an interview?”

Mari agreed. Thankfully Alya maintained her respect for Chat and continued to report on the news objectively, as opposed to a lot of reporters who now painted Chat Noir in a different light.

Marinette roped Chat into the interview that night. She hadn’t expected him, her day went surprisingly well, so the knock on the roof hatch surprised her. His excuse was that his patrol led him to the area but honestly he wanted to see her in his sweater again and wanted to know if she'd read his card.

The hoodie was gone but Marinette did not disappoint. Instead, Mari wore a green shirt he’d gifted with plaid pajama pants.

“Nice shirt. It looks purr-fect on you.”

Mari rolled her eyes and cut to the chase. “Alya knows we’re friends and asked me to ask you for an interview.”

The next night was joint patrol so the trio met the night after in Mari’s living room while her parents were out for date night.

Several minutes of fangirling eventually led to the actual interview.

A: Do you enjoy being one of Paris’ heroes?

CN: I don’t think Paris really thinks of me as a hero anymore, but I enjoy being Chat Noir and working with Ladybug.

A: Do you think Ladybug views you differently knowing you’re unmarked?

CN: No way. Ladybug treats me the same as always. We’re a team and she constantly reminds me of it.

A: What are your thoughts on the change in how people treat you since you revealed that you are unmarked?

CN: I think people are afraid of different. It doesn’t justify how they act towards me or Marinette, the other open unmarked Parisian. The way I’m treated isn’t good but I can handle the mean words. Marinette’s treatment is far worse, and she’s brave enough to endure it all of the time. I only bare it in costume.

A: How well do you know Marinette?

CN: We’re friends. I’ve saved her a few times, from both akuma and civilians. It helps having someone who understands.

A: Has Ladybug voiced any thoughts about you being friends with a civilian?

CN: Ladybug has told me that she’s glad I no longer feel alone.

A: Do you think the absence of a mark could actually be your mark?

CN: Maybe, but it’s all speculation. It’s weird thinking there may be someone in this world for me after spending years convinced I’d be alone forever.

Alya whipped the camera around to Marinette, who was sitting on the floor playing Ultimate Mecha Strike III muted on the television.

A: Marinette, what do you think?

M: *not looking away from the screen* Chat Noir is a good person who deserves to be treated better, especially after working so hard to protect this city and the people in it.

The camera swung back around to Alya to close up the interview. She thanked the pair for the interview then left to post it on the Ladyblog.

“Do you think she’s right?”

Marinette paused her game and turned to Chat. “About what?”

They locked eyes, blush flooding both their faces.

“About the lack of a mark being our mark.”

“I don’t know.” Marinette gave Chat the controller. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind being soulmates with you.”

Chat picked up the game, fiddling with the controls. It was a nice thought, having someone to love.As a child he thought it a guarantee. Little Adrien often played wedding and house games, fantasizing about a kind, funny soulmate. Maybe Marinette could fill that void. The thought made him realize that something important was missing from their friendship.

“You don’t know who I am.”

Chat put down the controller, letting his avatar die. Silence dragged on.

The front door rattled.

Muffled by the door, Tom said, “I guess Mari locked the door.”Mari took the jingle of keys as her cue to shove Chat up the stairs.

“Hide in my room,” she whispered.

While he ran up the stairs she moved back down them, reaching the last step as the door flew open. “Maman, Papa! How was dinner?”

She sat down with her parent, listening to their recount of the night, hoping desperately that Chat hadn’t escaped into the night.

A few minutes into their story Mari interrupted her parents with a fake yawn. “Can I go to bed? I promise I’ll listen to the rest tomorrow.”

Tom kissed her forehead. “Of course. Don’t forget that you’re helping us with those two big wedding order tomorrow.”

A brilliant idea formed in Marinette’s head. “Can I invite a friend to help?”

“Of course,” said Sabine, “as long as it’s not Nino. He’s a wonderful boy but he made quite a mess last time he tried to help.”

Tom and his daughter laughed. “Dear, he was eight years old.”

Mari kissed her parent’s cheeks and bid them goodnight.

To her surprise, Chat waited. Sitting in her desk chair, he greeted her with a grin. “Hi.”

Marinette sat on the floor next to him. He moved to leave the chair but she waved him off. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

Chat mentally opened his calendar, recalling the late-afternoon photo shoot and otherwise empty day. “I have a work thing in the evening but that’s all. Why?”

“We have to do two big orders in the bakery tomorrow and we’d love some extra hands.”

The cat’s face burst into a smile for a split second before scrunching into a scowl. “I can’t just show up as Chat Noir.”

Mari looked away, busying her hands by moving fabrics off her desk. “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

He gasped. This meant… “You want to know my identity?”

“It’s up to you, mon chaton.,” she answered, deflecting the question. The honest answer was yes, she wanted to know. Marinette wanted to go to the movies and park and just out with her best friend , not just hide away. She trusted him.

Chat was giddy; now they could interact at school as themselves instead of Chat dying inside every time Mari was distant or awkward with him as Adrien. She was never like that with Chat, and now they could be free.

“What time should I be here?”

“As early as you’re willing. We’re not going to make you be here at 4:30 to help us right when we start.”

Chat grinned, standing from his seat. “4:30 it is, Princess.” Then he was climbing up the stairs to the loft and reaching for the roof hatch handle.

“It’s really not necessary!” Mari shouted.

Chat stopped and turned to her just long enough to wink. “Don’t forget to read the card, Bugaboo.”

The moment the roof hatch closed behind him, Marinette opened the card from that morning.

“Dear Buginette,” it began. Marinette snorted; he thought he was so clever. “I know things are hard and I wish I could be around more to help. We’re a team whether I’m physically there or not. The clothes are a reminder in case you ever forget that I’m always in your corner cheering you on. I just hope that when you eventually find out who I am you won’t be too disappointed. No matter what I’ll always be your partner, and hopefully you’ll always be mine. Love, your favorite alley cat.”

The letter put everything into perspective for Marinette. She liked Chat, maybe even loved him. She’s sure she could. And why not? Neither of them had a soulmate and this was their chance to be happy with someone. But it wasn’t the idea of being with just anyone that got Marinette’s heart racing; it was the dea of Chat loving her that spread a blush over her cheeks.

That night, instead of nightmares, her dreams were sweeter than anything her parents had ever baked.

The next morning Marinette woke up easily, to her parent’s surprise. Usually they had to drag her out of bed whenever she needed to be up early. Today she was showered, dressed, and in the bakery as 4:26am.

“Is your friend coming, dear?” Sabine asked, handing her daughter a croissant from the day before.

Marinette gladly accepted the food and slipped a chunk into her purse for Tikki; it wasn’t a cookie but it’d do for now. “Yes Maman.”

“What time should we be expecting them?”

A knock on the bakery door stole their attention.

“I’ll get it!”

Marinette stopped halfway to the door. She hadn’t expected to see her classmate on the other side of the glass.

Adrien smiled shyly and waved, hoping she wouldn’t notice how nervous or stiff he was.

She did, and the sight reminded her of every time someone asked about her mark. The fear of being rejected, the hope of being accepted, all of that was reflected in this boy. The same boy who gave her an umbrella and nearly stole her heart ended up stealing it anyway.

Marinette marched up to the door and opened it with a smile. “Thanks for coming, Adrien. It’s nice to see you.”

After letting out an audible breath of relief, Adrien smiled back. “It’s nice to be seen.”

#ml fanfic #marichat #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #adrien agreste #Chat Noir #my drabbles #soulmate au

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leosstorytime · 3 years

Text

W.I.P - And no, Russia isn't me.

CHAPTER ONE : Guess what the cat dragged in.

Seven people stood around a dining table looking glum. Finally, after an agonous silence, one of them spoke up.

“Alright, if you lot are gonna continue standing around like depressed sims I might as well go back to beating ballistic for the twentieth time.''

Another glared at him and replied sharply, ''Oh do shut up Darcii, you know exactly why we're here.''

'Darcii' looked weary, ''Luce, how about you shut up? All I'm saying is that this is absolutely pointless. Standing around isn't helping our 'problem'.''

The person standing at the head of the table, Isaac, sighed, “Darcii’s not wrong. Illya, Russia, Raya, Hayden, any ideas?''

The Russians frowned at him, eyebrows raised, and Raya yawned dramatically. The one named Hayden didn’t even appear to be paying any attention.

Isaac sighed, looking disgruntled, ''Alright, I give up.''

Everyone groaned, ''So you just wasted five minutes of our precious lives standing around?'' Illya asked grumpily.

Russia flicked her halfheartedly, However, he couldn't argue. He was disheartened too.

Isaac sunk onto the floor dramatically, sighing in exasperation, “We’ve no choice but to reconvene later for my convenience.”

They all rolled their eyes, unsurprised, “Whatever. I’m gonna go to the green-grocer’s, anyone coming?” asked Russia, knowing the answer would be no.

“Yeah, nah Russia. Sorry mate.” said Raya, sounding as Australian as ever. Even though her and Darcii were born in Ireland, she took after her Aussie father in the accents department.

Russia sighed, grabbing the house keys and walking away while Isaac grumbled and made his way upstairs back to his bedroom to sulk in misery. Darcii headed off to the kitchen to grab snacks while Illya and Raya went back to competitively trying to copy each other’s accents. Hayden crossed her arms and went back outside to finish gardening.

About an hour later, a sopping wet Russia ran through the doorway yelling for Isaac. Someone bedraggled-looking was being carried in his arms, the groceries in hand.

Everyone looked up, taking in the sight before them. The person looked around 17 so it was a wonder Russia could even carry them, however, Russia could carry two times his own weight, so maybe it wasn’t.

Isaac rushed downstairs immediately examining Russia, “Put the… thing over on the couch, then put the groceries in the kitchen and stop dripping water all over THE GODDARNED CARPET.”

Russia rolled his eyes tiredly, and set the poor person on the couch. They groaned a bit, but didn’t wake up. Russia eyed them wearily, as if this happened every other day, and then set off for the kitchen with the three bags he came in with, then trudged upstairs to the bathrooms to get himself cleaned up.

Darcii eyed the person curiously, “So who‘ve we dragged in this time?”

Isaac shrugged, “No one I recognise, but they must’ve passed out near Russia”

“Trust my дурак* brother to have brought in some stranger.” Said Illya, sighing loudly and dramatically.

*idiot

Hayden got up and headed to the kitchen while calling out, “Try and wake them up instead of crowing about Russia, why don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.” Laughed Darcii as he gently shook the person.

The person groaned a little more, then tried to sit up. They were obviously confused, but they didn’t make any moves to leave. Perhaps out of sheer tiredness, or perhaps some other reason.

Isaac sighed in relief, “At least you’re awake now.”

The person raised their eyebrows in confusion, “Yeah, wait where’s the cute little Russian from earlier? Also where am I?”.

Darcii laughed and Illya glared, “First off, I’m much better looking than the creature I’m related to, and you, illegitimate child of a cow, are in our house. Who you are is of much more curiosity”

The person blinked twice, “Oh, I’m Duke. Duke Kingsleigh, and I’m a guy. Don’t let the long hair fool you. You lot are?”

Before Illya could reply, Darcii jumped in, pulling a JoJo pose, “We are the BEST people ever.”

Isaac giggled, “Ignore him, I’m Isaac, that’s Darcii, the grumpy Russian is Illya and the apparently ‘cute little’ Russian is Russia. The one in the kitchen is Hayden, the Aussie is Raya, and I’ve no clue where our psycho Italian is, but she’s Luce.”

Raya grinned, “Nice to meetcha mate.”

If there was anything strange about the 7, it would’ve been the fact that they all appeared to be from different countries, not a single one from this country, England, the fact that Russia’s name was Russia, or even the fact that this place was huge.

Russia walked downstairs, his hair still a bit damp and now in a messy bun. He’d changed into some dry clothing, “Is he awake yet?” he asked, frowning.

“Yes Radomir, he is. Care to explain how he got here in the first place?” asked Illya grumpily.

“He was waiting in the rain at the bus stop, so I offered him a place to wait it out. Turns out, he had a really bad fever and he passed out halfway here.” Russia said bluntly, “how are you, by the way?”

Duke smiled, “I don’t feel the best, but I’ll be alright”

Russia grinned, “That’s good! I’m gonna go help Hayden make dinner, so don’t let Luce murder him while I’m gone.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, “Russia, you know we could never.”

Illya looked surprised, “You know, Rasha never shows any degree of emotion other than slight irritation. He must really like you, Duke.”

Nico shrugged it off, “If he does, I’m surprised.”

Luce popped up from behind the chair, “You really should be.”

Isaac looked ready to slap someone, “LUCE WOULD YOU STOP DOING THAT!?!” Illya glared at the yelling.

Luce raised an eyebrow, “Jeez alright mum. But, i’m not here for you, i’m here for Raya”, she turned to face the aussie, “wanna play Minecraft with me?”

Raya shrugged, “If it means I get to escape their madness, sure.”

Isaac and Darcii watched them leave, “Sorry about that.” said the Scotsman, Isaac, smiling.

“It’s alright, I have siblings of my own so I’m pretty used to the loud noises.” Duke said, returning his smile.

Darcii watched the exchange with avid curiosity. Illya side-eyeing him suspiciously.

“Guys I’ll be right back, I just gotta go bug a certain Russian.” Illya reached out to stop him, but Darcii’d already dashed off.

Sighing, Illya stood awkwardly next to Isaac, hoping the Scotsman would start some conversation. Meanwhile, in the kitchen where Hayden was busy concocting some Korean fusion food and Russia was being harassed endlessly by Darcii.

“Privyet Darcii, what do you want?” he asked, sounding drained.

“Where’s the Englishman from, and why’re you so nice to him?”

“He’s from England, and it’s called basic manners. Something you, my comrade, do not have.” he said as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh please,” Darcii returned the eye roll with one of his own, “you’re not even that nice to your own sister, let alone any of us.”

“Well maybe you lot are just too annoying for me to make an effort, hmm?”

“Still. There’s no way he’s just some random person, and you’re being way too nice to him. You’re never nice to anyone.”

“That’s not true and he is just some random person, I swear.”

“Please, I’ve seen enough ‘anime’ to know you probably like him. Don’t you?”

Russia flushed, “No. I do not. Comrade, you’re mistaken.”

Darcii grinned widely, “AAAAND THERE IT IS FOLKS, RUSSIA SHOWED MORE THAN A FROWN TO NONE OTHER THAN ME, DARCII KAY”

Russia slapped him on the arm, “Shut up. You know I don’t like him. Besides, even if I did, we still have this problem to tackle.”

“Stop being so emotionless you bloody emo.” Darcii said, still grinning.

“I’m about to have Luce murder you.”

“Eesh, no need to get violent.”

Hayden appeared behind Russia, “Hey Radomir, we’ve got dinner to eat and it’s not serving itself.”

Russia sighed, “Alright, I’ll go set the table then.”

Hayden smiled sweetly at him, “You do that.”

Darcii frowned, then went over to the living room to call them over for dinner. “HEY IDIOTS, COME AND GET YOUR RADIOACTIVE KOREAN FOOD!!”

Illya flinched. “Can you please not yell you little rat?”

Isaac frowned. “Don’t call him that, no matter how true it happens to be.”

Darcii glared, but ignored the comment. “Duke, d’you need someone to help you over?” He asked, half-kidding.

Duke raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I'm no princess,” he said, getting up.

Darcii shrugged. “And I'm no knight. Illya, go get Raya and Luce.”

“Yes sir’’, she said, rolling her eyes sarcastically and heading upstairs. “OI GAMER KIDS IT’S DINNER TIME’’,

CHAPTER TWO: BORING ORIGIN STORY.

Darcii hated imperfections. Always had and always would. And by imperfections I don't mean to infer asymmetry. I mean imperfections. And it was this hatred of such small things that led to the meeting of Lucifer’s Lost Legion.

It started on a chilly sunday, where Raya and Darcii were out shopping at what an illiterate American would call a mall. It was all relatively normal, Raya pointing out hot girls and Darcii rolling his eyes, until something, mid eye-roll caught his attention.

“Two seconds Raya.” He said, walking over to a cheap looking pop-up jewellery shop. He stooped in front of an empty shelf, frowning.

Raya had appeared behind him. “What now?’’, she huffed, used to his ridiculous antics.

‘’Something’s missing from here.’’ He murmured, not entirely to himself. Raya stood up and scanned the place.

“You’re sure it’s missing and not that the owner forgot to restock?’’ She asked him, looking back down.

“Certain.”

“Well, that’s a surprise.’’ And it genuinely was. The small–nonexistent in your world–town of Casanova had the lowest crime rate in all of the UK. And thanks to a certain pair of Russian twins, that was about to change.

Darcii sighed. “I doubt we can find the cause of this.’’

Raya shrugged. “Might as well try, because no amount of food will clear up the headache your complaints are going to give me otherwise.’’

Darcii snorted and stood up, brushing off his pants.

An hour later, thanks to sheer luck, they caught the culprits red handed.

Perhaps not sheer luck, they saw the twins walking out of a perfume shop coughing violently. One of them swore in Russian and handed the other a cheap looking ring.

Darcii grabbed Raya’s arm and redirected her gaze. “Dude, look”.

“I’m not a du-“, Raya began but was cut off in awe. “Those two? Really?”,

Darcii nodded.

Raya smirked. “Congrats little bro, you’ve caught them. What now?”

“Well, we apprehend them, right?”

“Of course. Lead on, ‘o great one”.

Darcii laughed. “Sir yes sir.”

And off they went to harass some Russians.

CHAPTER THREE: HOLD ON A MINUTE

“*Ради бога Darcii. You make us seem like such bad people!”.

*for god’s sake

“Well, would you like to finish off the story then?” He asked.

“I’d rather me than you, Irishman.”

Darcii rolled his eyes. “Okay then miss Russia, go on.”

Illya sighed. “As he was saying-“

“BEFORE I WAS SO RUDELY INTERRUPTED-” Darcii said grumpilygrumpily.

“-He and Raya came over to harass us. It was an almost amusing sight. Of course, Radomir and I were busy trying to get away to laugh. It was then and there that we met Isaac.”

As it had turned out, Isaac was watching the whole ordeal with avid curiosity. He interrupted when Raya had secretly palmed a pocket knife.

“Hey, are you lot good?” He’d asked with his thick Scottish accent.

Russia had frowned. “These two’re harassing us.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow and pointed at the ring. “While that may be true, it was likely for good reason. That just happens to be the ring that someone stole from my shop this morning.”

His shop? The four had wondered. He seemed a bit young to be owning a jewellery shop.

He smiled, and as if reading their minds, answered. “Not my shop, per se, I run it on behalf of my uncle, Elliot Kensington.”

No-one said anything. “Well, it appears I’ve made this a wee bit awkward. Why did you two steal the ring?”

Illya nudged her brother and muttered something in Russian

Russia rolled his eyes. “Fine. We were going to sell it for cash because we’re dirt poor and living outside this place. Good enough?”

The siblings’ eyes narrowed. When they observed the two more closely, they could see that Russia’s clothing was ruined with dirt stains and Illya’s hair was so unkempt that clumps of it had matted together.

The two weren’t lying and Isaac could sense it. He sighed. “Well, how about stealing, you four join the in-house team back at Elliot’s mansion?”

Darcii blinked. “Us? Wh- Why us?”,

Isaac smiled. “I may be daft, but I’m not blind. You and your sister were looking at job posters before. I might as well give you all the opportunity while I can, right?”

And that was how the Lost Legion started.

They hadn’t named it before, but they all liked making jokes about how joining him had been like making a deal with the devil, and ended up fondly nicknaming him Lucifer. Somehow, they all learnt fighting tactics from Luce, and one of them (no-one remembers) called them an army, or in better words, a Legion

CHAPTER FOUR: Dude, you may be English, but there’s no need to be so polite

“And that’s the end of the origin story.” Illya closed off.

Duke smiled. “That’s cool.”

Darcii butted in. “We know.”

Russia rolled his eyes. “Shut up Irishman.”

Duke raised an eyebrow. “Also, I’m done eating, want me to wash these dishes? It’s the least I can do after you “rescued” me from the rain.”

“Less rescued and more a sense of good morality, but nah, it’s fine. Darcii can do it instead.”

“Wh- Why me man?”

Isaac glared. “You know exactly why.”

Darcii sighed wearily, “Fine, fine.”

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“Stop being so polite, it’s fine.” Isaac smiled. “Leave the table if you’re finished, I’m sure there’s something you can do.”

Hayden smirked at Isaac. “Man, you sound like a doting eomma”,

“Shut up. Or I’ll hit you, ‘my child’.”

“Rude.”

Duke smiled and stood up, pushing in his chair. “Alright then..”

Russia got up as well, and starting piling the plates, gesturing to Darcii. “Hey, Ireland, clean these.”

“Gladly.” The Irishman replied saltily.

Duke walked up to Russia. “So.. what did he do?”

“Something stupid. He’s an idiot, if you couldn’t tell,”

“That’s not very nice man.”

“He’s an idiot, but he’s a whiz with gadgetry.”

“Ah, so he does have a good quality.”

“Debatable. He uses his skill for.. unconventional use.”

“That made no sense, but alright.”

“Sorry, English is a terrible language, and it’s certainly not my first.”

“Russian?”

“Yeah. I taught Illya English as well, but she mostly retained it to insult Darcii.”

“Unsurprising. She’s rather vulgar, isn’t she?”

“You surprised? We were street kids. She led a gang of angry orphans in Russia.”

“Jeez, so you’re immigrants then.”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah, that was a stupid question.”

“Mm. And you’re from here?”

“Not here, but yeah, I’m from England.”

“Hm, the one country everyone here isn’t from”, Russia laughed.

“Ironic, I spose. Well, now you have me.”

“We’re blessed.”

Raya came over. “Man, I’d kill for a golden gaytime right about now. Your country is rubbish.”

“Thank you.” Duke laughed.

“No problem.”

Russia nodded at Raya. “She’s Irish, but her father was Australian, so they visited Australia a lot.”

“Man, Australia’s so cool. Warm, too, isn’t it?”

Raya sighed, “A little too warm, if you ask me. Although Europe considers anything over thirty degrees a heatwave so..”

“That’s true..”

“Mm. And the last heatwave we had was about fifty degrees.”

Now Duke looked taken aback. “Fi-Fifty degrees?!”

“Yup. It was sweltering, my guy.”

Luce frowned at them from behind Russia. “Hey, isn’t Ebony from like..Germany? Hayden and Ebony both say it gets hot there too.”

“Hayden’s Korean, what?”

“I dunno.”

Duke looked confused. “Wait, who’s Ebony?”

“Luce’s partner in crime.” Answered Raya simply.

“Ah.”

Darcii came out of the kitchen, holding a butterknife. “Isaac, I’m done.”

Isaac looked up from his spot at the table. “Put away the knife.”

Darcii rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Sure.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll put it away. What I was going to say was, Duke, d’you wanna see the Polaroids we took last time we went away?”

“Gladly.”

“K, hold on.”

#aa?

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