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fieldofdaisiies · 5 months

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Lovers At Last (pt. 3)

secret santa gift for @iftheshoef1tz ❤️ @acotargiftexchange ship: Azriel x Eris type: angst (with a hint of fluff) word count: 3,4k words warnings: talks about domestic violence story masterlist | ao3

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting… (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)

Eris folds his manuscript, and finally lowers his gaze from where he has been staring out of the window for the past minutes. He shoves the manuscript —something about blood tests to figure certain illnesses— and shoves it into the front pocket of his small bag. There's an ache in his heart and it won't go away. It has been there since the moment Azriel left. Last evening.

And this evening…Azriel will leave completely. Romania. What will Azriel do there? He doesn't even speak the language. And what if they catch him?

Harsh and Exciting - the only words to describe the journey ahead of Azriel and Eris can't let himself imagine what that will mean. What dangers Azriel will face. He will never see him again. Even if he survives he will never—

"Herr Doktor?" Schwester Nuala asks with a sort of urgency and impatience in her tone. Has she been talking to him for longer? Hasn't he heard her before? Noticed her?

Eris has to admit he doesn't quite care. He turns to look over his shoulder, his neck and shoulders tense from the pressure weighing down on him.

"A woman is here."

"For me?" Eris raises a brow and nurse Nuala stifles a chuckle. She knows it is not appropriate to laugh at your boss, but he looks like a deer caught in headlight and she wonders what he has been thinking about that has captured him so terrible.

"Not exactly, but she wants to see the woman called Emerie. Is she allowed to visit her?"

Eris draws in a deep inhale and then nods. He moves his bag to the end of the desk, leaning it against the wall, the manuscript long forgotten.

"Who is she? Someone from the family?"

Nuala shakes her head. "No, she says she is a friend. She is the singer from the theatre. Gwyneth Berdara, the slender woman with the copper hair and the wonderful voice."

Eris curls his hands around the backrest of the chair, almost like he wants to keep his body from curling inwards. The singer who often performs with Azriel's orchestra. Why out of all people would exactly she be friends with Emerie.

Eris shakes his head and brings a hand up to brush his hair back. Nuala is still looking at him, waiting.

"She-she is allowed t-to." Eris clears his throat, and smoothes out his sterile coat. "I am coming with you, I need to check on the girl anyway."

Eris follows Nuala out of his office, sliding his hands into the pockets of his white sterile coat, fumbling with pieces of fabric - something to keep him occupied and calm his racing thoughts. He can't let him go. He can't let him go alone.

But he has to. He can't come along. Azriel has to stay.

There is so much going on his mind. It feels like a whirlwind is brewing. The emotions make him feel dizzy, his head heavy. His heart heavily thumps in his chest, aching fiercely.

The woman here for Emerie is waiting patiently, a smile blooming on her lips when she takes in Eris.

He swallows and then clears his throat again. "You are—"

"Gwyneth Berdara. If I remember correctly you are a constant visitor of the theatre, am I right?" she asks with a smile on her face. She just wants to be kind, but the mention of the theatre makes the back of Eris' mouth ache.

He wanted to forget about Azriel so badly. At least during the hours at work. Thinking of Azriel will become inevitable in the evening, the long hours at night, anyway. But at least now…he wanted some peace, but it is not possible. Azriel is always there, his love for him too strong, his touch and scent imprinted on him. Azriel is always with him. HIs heart is with him. Azriel, has given him his heart, and Eris always keeps it safe.

I carry your heart with me I carry it in my heart

I am never without it

Anywhere I go you go, my dear (e.e. cummings)

When Azriel first told him he loves him…Since this very moment Eris treasures his heart. But he…he had not even once said it back. Too scared of what it means. Too scared of getting his heart broken. And now he is the one who broke Azriel's heart. The director expected it to be safe with Eris and all he has done with it, is cause it pain..

Eris extends a hand. "After you, Frau Berdara." He has to swallow again, his throat burning like he has drunk acid.

They enter the room where Emerie rests with a few other women and her eyes immediately light up when they land on Gwyn.

Eris gives the women a bit of space, preparing his utensils - the ones he needs for Emerie. She will receive a bit more of a painkiller through a syringe so sleeping and lying on her back becomes easier. The gastritis has been very strong.

"Why are you here?" Emerie asks, a lovely smile gracing her lips. She reaches her hand out to Gwyn who immediately takes it and then sits down on the bed.

"Because you are my best friend, and you are not feeling well. Obviously, I came to see you." Gwyn smiles, her thumb brushing over the back of her best friend's hand.

"Oh, Gwynny," Emerie hums. "But how do you have time? You are always practicing on Monday mornings?"

Gwyn shakes her head and Eris focuses on her, syringe in his hand somehow forgotten.

"Singer cancelled the orchestra practice today. And also the show this evening. He said he wasn't feeling well and had to cancel."

Eris' throat constricts. Azriel truly meant it. He is going to leave. Today.

The doctor's hands start to tremble, almost so much the syringe slips out of them. But he tries to level his breathing, tries to focus. This is his work - he has to concentrate.

Eris' gaze lifts and he looks at the window, outside. Almost like he can see right to Azriel’s home. Or the place he called home. Azriel will soon leave and he will never—

It is the women's giggle that fetches him back to the moment. Eris turns to them, his fingers curling tighter around the cool tool in his hand. He has to focus now.

"I will give you another small injection, Emerie. If that is alright?"

Emerie nods, a small smile on her lips. Eris can see the slight hint of nervousness in her eyes - a syringe scares many people, she is definitely not the only one.

Eris gentle takes her arm into his hand, cleans the skin, searches for a vein and then inserts the injection without Emerie noticing anything. He has very skilled fingers - his patients never feel any kind of pain.

But still a grimace spreads over her face and she looks up at Eris with big eyes.

"There you go, Emerie. This will help with the pain and speed up your healing," the doctor reassures her with a warm smile.

Emerie nods weakly, Gwyn holds her other hand, concern etched upon her face.

"Frau Berdara you can stay a while, but Emerie needs a lot of rest at the moment," Eris advises. "I'll leave you two for a bit. Emerie, take it easy. If you need anything call for a nurse."

As he exits the room, the door closes softly behind him, giving the two best friends some privacy.

Once outside, Eris inhales deeply, his eyes closing. Is this a sign? That Gwyneth Berdara showed up here? Is she here only so she can remind him of Azriel?

Eris swallows thickly and shakes his head.

"Guten Abend, Herr Doktor!"

His throat feels so dry when he wants to answer, his voice croaky when he finally brings out a greeting of his own. "Guten Abend, Schwester Cerridwen."

He walks past her, not even deigning her a look. His head feels dizzy, the world around him blurring. It is almost like walls are moving closer, capturing him. He feels like a captive, his throat constricting. He can't breathe anymore, stumbling to his office. His hand comes up and he fidgets with the top button of his shirt, loosening it.

He is going to lose Azriel. He loves him and now he is going to lose him. He is going to lose the love of his life.

The doctor staggers into his office, nearly tripping over his own feet. A ragged breath leaves him when he braces his hands on the white desk and throws his head back. The only thing from crying out loud are the thin walls of the hospital. People would hear him and think he has gone mad. And maybe he has.

He definitely has. For letting Azriel go. Alone.

Azriel has been alone so much. And now he left him alone as well.

If something happened to Azriel, he would never—

"Not now!" He growls as an answer to the knock on the door. He is not in the right state of mind to talk about medical business right now.

He has to do something. He can't let him go alone. His life is Azriel. And without Azriel his life is not worth living. He has to—

"Yes, now!" That voice.

Eris only merely lifts his head, but his entire body shudders when his eyes land on Leutnant Proteus. Oberleutnant Keir's second yesterday.

"Can I help you, Herr Leutnant?" Eris asks, not able to keep the bitterness from his tone.

"I am here to pick up my daughter." His voice is nothing but a bored snarl, and the elder man strokes a hand down his coarse beard.

"Unfortunately she is not yet ready to leave."

"And who says that?" The Leutnant steps into the room, giving Eris a once-over.

To that Eris straightens up. He turns off the light on his desk, surrounds it and leans his hip against it. Then he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. "I say that. And I may ask you now to leave. My office and the hospital. Emerie stays at least another night."

"She won't—"

"She will." Eris tilts his chin. "She needs to recover. Would you like me to call for someone to escort you outside?"

Eris' demeanour does not waver, despite the worry and whirlwind in his mind, he portrays the image of the confident and cold doctor.

The Leutnant snarls, and shakes his head. Then he turns to the door and takes two steps toward it. His hand curls around the handle, slowly and he pulls it open. Eris knows there is still something to come and he doesn't have to wait long.

"Everyone is aware that you like to stray a little bit from who men are supposed to like. Heard you have a thing for dicks."

Eris clicks his tongue, and then a cold chuckle leaves him. Leutnant Proteus is almost out of the door, making sure some people catch up on their conversation. But Eris has none of it.

"Quite bold words for someone who hits his own daughter." His voice is loud, and stern.

The Leutnant swirls around, rage etched upon his features. "You—" he seethes, but Eris cuts him off by lifting his hand.

"If I or one of the nurses and other doctors ever see bruises on her arm again, Leutnant, I will make sure that you will never ever work in this position again. If needed, I will make sure to personally escort you to a prison cell." Eris dips his chin. "If you'll excuse me now, there is something I need to do," Eris says and shrugs out of his coat. He shoves past the Leutnant and then rushes down the corridor. To his nurses and colleagues, he says, "Keep your heads up, and…have a good evening."

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)

And what he loves — there is only one thing, one person in his life that he truly loves. And this person's name hollows through his mind when he sets out for a sprint, air whooshing in and out of his lungs.

✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ✦

"Fuck," Azriel groans, his hand brushing some damp strands of hair out of his face. His jacket does not fit into his old, shabby suitcase. Maybe he does not need it anyway? It is summer here in Berlin, hence it is also summer in Romania. He tosses the jacket away and tries to close the suitcase again.

The tears he shed throughout the night are still visible on his face, now dried streaks on his cheeks.

He shoves a small leather wallet into the outside pocket of his suitcase and his eyes land on a folded piece of weathered paper. It unfolds with a soft crinkle. His mother's smile, so warm, so familiar, something he hasn't seen in so long.

These were happy times. Berlin before the war. Before the…

As his fingers trace the edges of the photograph, his gaze lingers, lost in the whirlwind of emotions it evokes. The love, the loss, the ache of separation - they all swirl within him.

And now he is going to lose another person. He has no idea when or how he is ever going to see his mother again. She is still in Great Britain, and how should he get there?

He is alone. Azriel is once again alone. Like always. He is always alone. And just when he thought he wouldn't be alone, having found Eris, having fallen in love with him, he is losing him again.

A tear makes its way down his cheek, and Azriel blinks rapidly. He neatly folds the picture and shoves it back into the wallet, packing it away and continuing to pack.

Azriel rushes around in his flat, collecting bits and bobs, here and there. And as he rushes around, he spots a ring—a special ring. It’s just a simple silver band, no stones or anything on it. Eris gifted it to him a short time ago. Holding it gently, he feels its heaviness, carrying memories of a love that…no longer is. A love that is forbidden and was never meant to last.

Azriel swallows thickly, fighting the dryness in his throat, the ache at the back of his mouth. With a heavy heart, he places the ring gently in a pocket, letting it rest against his chest, close to his beating heart. The pain is palpable, throbbing in the silence of the room, only interrupted by the noises of cars outside and his own ragged breaths.

The sun is slowly starting to set which means he has to leave soon. He needs to catch the evening train.

18:12, Nordbahnhof, Platform 6

He draws in a deep inhale. Then he continues to pack and also clean his flat. It feels like closure. Leaving this place and everything he has had here behind. A new part of his life is going to start. One he hoped would include Eris. But if the man doesn't want to join him…

Azriel just doesn't understand what would keep Eris here.

Eventually, his suitcase is sealed, the room tidied, and he stands there, in front of his mirror, in the fading light of the outside world. Azriel regards himself for a moment, and knows, even if it means leaving the person he loves most behind, that what he is about to do is the right decision. He can't live here anymore.

Can't pretend to be someone else every single day of his life. He wants to be somewhere where he can be himself. Somewhere…somewhere else. Not Germany. Not a country that has never accepted him. Not a country that will never accept him. He needs to leave.

Azriel smoothes down his shirt, and inhales deeply. The light in his eyes faded the moment Eris told him he wouldn’t come with him. He knows it will take a long time for the light to return, but he will find happiness. Somewhere. Somehow.

Azriel reaches for the switch, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, he lingers, taking in the quiet emptiness that now envelops his life. His heart. There is the void again. This deep, dark and cold void.

Eris had started to fill it with love and happiness. He made him feel alive and—

Azriel shakes his head. He does not want to think about that now. Or him.

With a resigned sigh, he turns towards the door, fingers grazing the cool door handle. His scarred fingers curl around it and he…he did not want to think about Eris, but he can't help himself and remembers the first time they met — when Eris tended to his wounds. He fell in love with him in that moment.

Azriel pulls down the handle and opens the door. His breath catches in his throat.

Their eyes meet, a collision of emotions

The weight of unspoken words hang heavy in the air, a palpable tension. The silence stretches out, taut like a violin string, almost like the part in a piece of music before the big climax. Until Eris breaks the stillness.

"I fell in love with you the first moment I laid eyes on you. Right away I was taken by your eyes, your smile, your beauty, your kindness, your charm, but it was your mind, your intelligence, your wit, that won me over. Every time we touch I get a sort of feeling no one else could ever evoke in me." Eris swallows thickly. "You being in my life brought me more happiness than you can ever imagine. I know you love me."

Eris moves in closer. "And I love you. With my whole heart and body. And I should have told you so many times before. I love you, Azriel." He inhales. "And I want to join you. I want us to run away together. Wherever it takes us. I want to be with you. Wherever we go, wherever we end up. Because I love you."

He cradles Azriel's face in his hands, making him meet his gaze. "You are the person I want to spend my life with. The one person I want to grow old with. And if we are not allowed to live here the way we want it, we have to seek life somewhere else."

Azriel is too baffled to talk. But Eris doesn't need him to talk. Not yet.

"Your mother still lives in Britain, doesn't she?"

Azriel nods, his throat too constricted to talk. "Seems like we try to go from Romania to Great Britain. We are leaving tonight."

“Bu-t you?” Azriel is still speechless, lips parted, his eyes wide open. “You…you don’t want to leave?”

“I want to be with you, Azriel.” Eris strokes his thumbs over his lover’s cheeks. “I don’t want to spend a single day without you. I need you in my life. You are my life. I can’t let you go. I love you.” His thumb catches a single tear, brushing it away. “Wherever you are, I want to be with you. I will find work again and so will you. And we will always have each other.”

Dropping one hand, he slides it into Azriel's. "Let the journey begin. I love you and I can't wait for a future with you."

Stepping outside, they are embraced by the night, hidden in the shadows of the city that is going to sleep. They don't know what awaits them in the future. In Romania. At the train station. They don't know if police is waiting for them. They don't know how dangerous the journey will be. But they will try. Whatever it needs to find true happiness.

the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)

Harsh and exciting - just like the journey ahead of them!

azris tags: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @honeysuckle-daydreams13

#azriel x eris #azris #acotar gift exchange #azriel #eris vanserra #acotar #acosf

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saiwola · 2 months

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Community

"Keep the wine flowing! On the house!"

The atmosphere at The Siren's Lure was vibrant as always. The air filled with the scent of spices and incense, masking the scent of sin. Silks hung before stained glass windows to further soften the light in varying hues of pink and purple. The interior filled with music and voices and the clinking of glasses. With heat and reverie.

And at the center of the party was Adonai, Lukios to most. Propped up on the bar laughing it up with a few patrons. Dressed in his usual finery. All his gold outshone by that perfect, inviting smile. He waved the pale haired bartender over. Before wrapping his arms around the shoulders of two inebriated men, pulling them into a casual hug as he addressed the man behind the bar.

"Evius. Make sure these men's cups never run dry," he laughed.

"Thass awful kinn uhf yoo, lukios," slurred one. His cup already being filled again.

The other added, "Yeah. Yoo really arr azz kinn azz theey shay. Nod liyke ozzer celebrities."

"Hey. I want you to feel comfortable," he purred. His voice sickeningly sweet and smooth. "Now if you need anything, you let me know, okay?"

At that, he watched as the two glanced toward one of the barmaids. A petite mousy thing that flinched as she noticed the men watching her. Quickly hurrying into the back. One of the men whistled after her before the two started their crude comments.

"Too bad shese sush a fuckin' bish..."

Adon's eye twitched.

"Maybe yoo coud mayke herr c'meere t' serve us. Eh?"

Though he maintained his smile, there was a glint in the musician's golden eyes. A hint of something more sinister. Violent. Predatory. His fingers squeezed the men's shoulders a bit too tightly.

"Well," he crooned. "I do take care of my own~" For the briefest moment, it seemed like black was peeking at the edges of his sclera. His grin grew wider, toothier.

"Which is why I don't take kindly when people put their hands on my girls..."

One of them opened their mouth as if to speak... just as both men passed out on the counter. There was a brief lull in conversation as their heads hit the bar. The closer crowds eying the situation. Though that was quickly remedied when Adon spun around, Clapping his hands together.

"Sorry for that. Next round's on me~"

Everyone in these parts knew how protective he was with his staff.

"Evius. Can you get started on these for me," he asked as the bar stools seemed to come to life, carrying the unconscious men into the back.

"You got it, boss."

Adon watched as Evius followed the stools. Makign his way to the back as well, stopping at a nearby table first.

"Hey Sylvie... You don't mind going ahead, do you? Something kind of came up," he said, gesturing toward the back.

"I can see that. And I don't mind. I'll let her know you'll be later. I don't think she really needs your help anyway."

"You're the best, Sylvie~ Give our little witch a big ol' smooch from me as an apology." He chuckled before walking off to handle the garbage.

"You know she'd smack you for that."

"Why do you think I'm asking you to do it~?"

#{These Secrets We Keep} drabbles #{The Blessings}#Adonai!#Blessing of Community #bit of a flirt #bit of a dick #but he's a good guy

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gerec · 10 months

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AU-gust 2023

11. Doppelganger

Pairing(s): Erik/Other, implied past Erik/Shaw Warnings: Shaw's existence

He’s been in New York before, in this particular club, chasing a lead on Shaw that had turned out to be an unfortunate dead end. With no way to vent his anger and frustration – at least one that didn’t involve destroying public property – he’d let a man pick him up and take him to the bathroom, and fuck him in one of the stalls.

It had made things marginally better, even if the sex was less than satisfactory and over too soon.

Tonight, he’s feeling the same need, an itch under his skin that demands Erik’s attention. It’s also a little different from the last time, since he’s just killed a man; a guard from the camp he’d stumbled over while chasing a new lead. He put up just enough of a fight to get Erik’s adrenaline pumping, and he knows he won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t burn away the edges.

He takes a sip of his beer, and casts his eyes across the room.

Instinctively, he’s drawn to a man seated at a booth, far enough away that Erik can’t really make out his features. At first glance, there’s nothing particularly remarkable about this stranger – not his medium build and brown hair and well-made suit – except there’s a familiarity to his profile that puts Erik on high alert.

Then the man turns and Erik jumps to his feet, closing the distance in seconds and using his power to take a hold of all the metal within reach---

Except that the man he was so sure was Shaw looks up in surprise, without a hint of recognition, radiating confusion as Erik looms menacingly overhead. Up close, he can see that the stranger’s eyes are brown and not blue, and that the shape of his nose is slightly different from Shaw’s. The resemblance is close enough that he could be a forgotten twin; enough that Erik has to forcibly rein in his impulse to drive a knife through his chest.

Instead, he mumbles a clumsy apology and returns to his seat at the bar.

The encounter throws his emotions completely off kilter, and he switches from beer to scotch, downing one and then another in rapid succession. He can’t think of anything now but Sebastian Shaw, everything else subsumed by the rage roiling in his blood. It feels like a failure somehow, like he missed his chance, even if he knows rationally that this stranger is not Herr Doktor. He knows that, and yet the frustration only builds, until he’s drowning in alcohol and rage and slowly losing his mind…

Outside, he stops and takes a breath of fresh air, grounding himself with a hand on the metal lamp post.

“Are you alright?”

He turns and comes face to face with the stranger, who sounds absolutely nothing like Shaw. There’s a midwestern accent there and he’s wearing a concerned look on his face, and Erik would laugh if he hadn’t almost killed this man over a mistaken identity.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” The man hesitates, before stepping closer to Erik and grasping his wrist. Maybe Erik is still in shock – or he’s too drunk – because he doesn’t pull away, staring dumbly as the stranger smiles at him and says, “Do you…maybe want to come back to my hotel with me for a drink?”

He doesn’t understand what’s being said until it suddenly does become clear, and Erik’s heart starts beating so quickly it feels like it’s going to burst from his chest---

“I…Yes.”

The stranger smiles and offers his hand to shake. “I’m Samuel.”

“Samuel,” Erik says, his mind racing over the possibilities of what he might do – how it might feel to be the one in control - with a man wearing Shaw’s face. “Lead the way.”

#gerec writes #au-gust 2023 #day 11 #erik/shaw #erik/other #doppelganger #shaw is his own warning #even if he technically isn't even in this ficlet lol #also #there's some real dirtybadpornz that would follow immediately after this scene

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eldritchtickles · 3 years

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A Lesson in Love and Dunamancy

And here's one of those once in a moon fics I write! Inspired by an ask from a long long while ago that I cannot find anymore lmao. But enjoy some wizard tickles! And of course a big thank you to the Critickle Role discord for not only lotsa ideas, but also keeping me writing this with your own amazing work lmao. Enjoy!

Fandom: Critical Role

Characters: Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast

Word Count: 2665

“And as you can see here..”

The dark skinned hand moved lightly across the thick paper, gentle fingers tracing the runic symbols etched into its form. Essek’s eyes were focused as he read through the ancient script, while Caleb’s followed the drow’s finger with intent. Both wizards were sat closer to each other than either seemed to realise, leaning deeply into one another. The room was cosy, hazy with incense with small candles floating lazily through the air. Calm, oriented, as a wizard’s study should be. “These dunamantic symbols are the basis for most spells”, the Shadowhand continued. “Any current spell relies on these calculations, and predictably any new ones would include them too.”

“Ah, ja, I see it now…”, Caleb muttered, leaning closer as a slight smirk played at the edges of his lips. “I also see you already suspect I intend to play with dunamancy’s limits myself, hm?”

Ah, he was caught. A soft smile came to Essek’s face as he nodded. He knew Caleb Widogast would not be one to leave such magic alone if he could create with it. The transmutation master kept true to his discipline, creating something of nothing at a moment’s notice. Including making a need for Essek to put him back in place.

His face leaned down closer to his human companion’s, a twinkle of slight playfulness in his eyes at Caleb’s snark.

“Yes, Herr Widogast, I imagine you’ll be creating many a spell based on the Krynn magic, hm?”

As Caleb went to retort just as smartly, the gentle cosy candlelit haze of the room was bathed in the harsher light of the hallway outside.

“Oh Caleeeeeeeb~!”

Both wizards were suddenly acutely aware of their close proximity to one another as Jester Lavorre loudly interrupted their study session. In a second Caleb found himself alone on the floor as Essek’s floating spell took effect and jettisoned him into a more regal standing position, even if his face was flushed an embarrassed lilac colour.

“OH!’, Jester exclaimed, a not so sorry grin on her face as she surveyed the suddenly awkward tension she had created. “I didn’t meanto interrupt you two cuddling-“

“Jester!!”, Caleb yelped, embarrassment lending his voice a strangled tone as he stumbled to his feet and brushed himself off and cast a glance to Essek. “You… You did not disturb anything. Was there something you needed from us this urgent?”

Jester was already in the room as the wizard spoke to her. She inspected the floating candles overhead, courtesy of the magic inside Caleb’s Tower, giving each a slight poke to watch it bob away free of gravity. She cast a teasing grin at the two flushed wizards, before diverting her attention to the dunamantic scroll on the floor as she spoke.

“Weeeeelllllll”, she began, nose scrunching up as she tried to understand the arcane glyphs. “Beau asked me to get you! She needs help compiling notes, and said ‘his stupid keen mind would kind of be helpful’. So I came to fetch you for her!”

“Ah scheisse, you’re absolutely right”, Caleb said with a small groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Essek, would you remain here? I promised Beau earlier I’d help her with her endeavour, I’ll finish quickly and be right back to continue.”

“Ah, quite, yes…”, Essek mumbled, glad to feel the blush on his cheeks calm down. “Take all the time you need, alright? I’ll prepare the next part of the lesson in the interim.”

No more words passed between the two, just a polite smile and a nod before Caleb parted to help his comrade. Soon as the door closed, Essek let out a slow breath. What had he been thinking? This was a professional relationship, student and mentor, and yet he had been practically sitting in Caleb’s lap as he had taught. Where was his usual maturity? Had he gone mad? Really, he had to get his act together before someone thought-

“Essek likes Caleb~!”

The Shadowhand froze up. The heat of his lilac blush returned, reaching his ears this time. Just over his shoulder was the grinning face of Jester, he knew it. He could practically fucking feel her waggling her eyebrows suggestively at him. Damn tieflings.

He rounded quickly on the woman, face not seeming able to decide between incredulous, embarrassed, or angry. Probably a mix of all three.

“Jester I- You can’t think that- That’s just not-“

A breath. Nerves calmed.

“…….. Ms. Lavorre, you cannot make such claims about two acolytes. It is in very bad taste, our relationship is strictly-“

“Oh come ooooon, Essek! Admit it, you like the stinky wizard!”, the tiefling said in a lilting voice, walking around to his front so she could stand on her tip toes till her nose met his, which made him make a funny face as he floated back a step. “I mean, no one will blame you. Caleb is charming, and sweet, and kind of dirty but that can be fixed, and he’s so clever, Essek! And he’s-“

“Jester, I do not-“

His voice caught in his throat, before a pout was brought to his face as the drow turned from the intruder on his lesson. He started to spread out another spell scroll, putting all his effort into making sure he was solely concentrating on this.

“I would prefer not to speak on this topic if you don’t mind Jester.”

If it were anyone else, they might have taken the hint. Essek’s exterior had turned icy and aloof, as it had been when they first met, and was usually enough to deter more questioning. But while her insight may not be as good as Caducueus, Jester had enough of it to see through the drow’s shit.

“You are such a liar!!”, she whined, accentuating her point with a poke to the back of his ribs.

It took Essek a few seconds to realise through his brooding that he had squeaked.

It took a few more to have him pinned on his back underneath the grinning tiefling.

“Jester, this is most- A-Ah, Jester!!”, the Shadowhand blustered, squirming slightly as a clawed hand gripped his ribs. He was not used to… Physical touch. Much less being pinned with his arms above his head, straddled by a strong blue trickster. His blush was back in full swing.

“Well, are you going to tell me Essek~?”, Jester asked, that familiar lilt in her voice that meant a plan was in motion. “Or, we could juuuuuuuuuust…”

She accentuated her point with a gentle waterfall of tickles cascading down the stretched out ribs beneath her. Those pointed nails cut through Essek’s shirt worse than any blade, a choking giggle trapped in his throat now he expected it this time. That didn’t mean it didn’t- No, if he admitted the word to himself he’d be doomed.

“M-Ms. Lavorre, I would kindly ask you-“

Shit, he almost laughed as she brushed the area right under his arm. Deep breaths.

“I would ask you let me gohoho!! Dohohon’t!!”

That was most definitely a whine.

“Wow Essek, I knew you were squishy but even Caleb can hold out longer”, the girl teased with a giggle, concentrating her free hand on the wizards lower tummy. It was the spot that had earned the giggle, and with a slight ruffle of his shirt that dark drow skin was exposed to the air and a tiefling’s evil fingers, fluttering along his waistline. “Aren’t you the most ticklish Shadowhand in the Dynasty~! Tiiiiiickle tickle, Essek!”

“I am… T-Thehehehe only Shadowhand and you knohohow this full wehehehell Jester- DOHOHOHON’T SAY THAHAHAHAT!!”

She snickered at the little squeak as he said her name, and the subsequent shout at such a little tease. The poor man’s face was flushed so much you’d think him drunk, the only thing worse would be- oh, she couldn’t-no, definitely could. Artagan would be sorely disappointed if she didn’t.

“Ok Essek, time to get real!”, Jester said with a serious face, nodding to the giggly elf beneath her as if in agreement on what she was about to do. “When you want to tell me how much you looooooooove Caleb, you let me know, ok Essek?”

“W-What? Jester, wait, what?”, Essek asked as he regained his breath, diaphragm working overtime to get back oxygen lost to giggles. His mind was already slightly addled, not even realising his arms had been let go. He quickly did take that into account, if only because they had shot down to grab Jester by the horns and try push her away as a scream ripped through his body.

“JEHEHEHEHESTER!! THAT IHIHIHIS- EEEEEEHEHEHEEE!! TERRIBLE STOP IT STOP IHIHIHIT!!”

Ignoring his pleas, Jester just giggled and shook her head in amusement before returning to nibbling gently at the soft stomach beneath her. The tiefling’s hands held Essek’s hips down as her thumbs gently massaged a ticklish touch into the dips in them. His back arched as the sharp little teeth scraped along his skin, and as Jester cast a look up at his face her eyes lit up like a Winter’s Crest tree.

“You’re crying?!”, Jester giggled, an incredulous look on her face. Essek’s head was tilted back in ticklish ecstasy, eyes screwed shut as streams of tears stained his bright lilac cheeks. Frankly, it was the most adorable sight Jester had ever seen! And she knew she was close to getting an answer from the deathly ticklish drow.

“P-Plehehehease, Jester, just not my stohohomach...”, Essek pleaded weakly, hand still tangled in the tickle monster’s hair and horns. “I’ll do anythihihing, just not there..”

“Anything, hm?”, Jester pondered, raising herself from his stomach to give him a break and smoothing his shirt back down. Even thatearned a squeak, she noted. “Liiiiiiiiike….. Admitting you have a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy crush on Caleb….?”

There was a solid five seconds of silence as Essek debated with mattered more; his sanity, or his pride.

Jester got her answer as his face turned back to a pout, turning away from her.

She shrugged. Time to try somewhere else.

“Hm, alrighty then Essek!”

In a second, after a slight tousle, Essek’s light form had been flipped so he now lay on his stomach with Jester laying on top of him, facing toward his-

“Jester, don’t you fucking-“

His face burned as she ignored his words, feeling his ankles gripped in a hold by Jester’s deceivingly strong arms. He had of course taken off his shoes on entry of the tower, as any good guest would. Now he was wishing he’d be a bit ruder in the Nein’s abode.

“Oh, I’m just making sure your feet aren’t dusty when your crush comes back! See? I’m helping~!”

Essek thought no such thing as he felt those fluttering fingers returning to his poor oversensitive skin. He felt the tears well up already, which was fucking embarrassing might he add. Speaking of embarrassing…

“A cootchie coo, little Shadowhand~! Don’t be embarrassed, maybe Caleb will find it cute when he finds out how unbearably ticklish you are! He’ll be all like ‘ja, zat is inchresting Essek, you look so cute ven you are laffing unt squirming, tickle tickle my dear’. Just like that! Wow, you reeeeeaaaally hate teases huh, Essek? Let’s test!”

“Lehehehet us nohohot, Jester-“

“I’m going to get youuuuu~! I’m going to tickle these poor, helpless feet!! Aw you’re going to giggle soooo much when I just….”

“Jester, no, Jehehehester- NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STOP THIS INSTAHAHAHANT- EEEEEEEHEHE!!”

As her claws scratched from his heel, across his sole, before nestling under his toes to make a wiggling, tickling home for themselves, Essek lost all resolve. He barely kicked anymore, body limp as silent laughter overtook him. Instead he lay shaking from the intensity of it, face sore from smiling so much more than normal, tears rolling hot down his face and falling dangerously close to meticulously written scrolls. All till…..

“I- Pffft nahahahaaaaa!! I LIHIHIHIHIKE HIM JESTER!!”

No sooner had the words left the wizard’s mouth did the devilish fingers below leave him. Essek sucked in deep breaths, grateful for fresh air in his tired lung. Finally, a break… Even if…

His eyes snapped open as his blush deepened. Had he really-

He looked back quickly at Jester, grinning broadly with twinkling eyes.

“Jester-“

“I have to, Essek-“

“You will not, Jester-“

“OH, CALEEEEEEEB-“

No sooner had Jester yelled for the wizard of the hour had she found herself under Essek instead, helped by some sort of gravity spell. His hand was clamped over her mouth to shut her up, a panicked expression on his face.

“Jester, you cannot mention this to anybody, do you understand- DID YOU JUST LICK MY HAND?!”

The look of delight as Jester giggled through the barrier of his hand gave him an answer. Despite his panic, Essek couldn’t help but break a smile. Jester Lavorre was genuinely the silliest girl he’d ever met. But still, he had to keep her quiet… And there was one way to keep her that way.

“Let me explain this in a way you can understand Ms. Lavorre…”

Jester was about to say something rude back, but instead a muffled squeal was all that escaped. Essek had a look of absolute seriousness on his face, not unlike the first time they’d met him, that made the cleric’s eyes widen. Then they snapped closed as his hand goosed her lower rib, extracting another squeal.

“You are not to mention this exchange to anyone, understood?”

His hand moved lower, fingers digging deep into the pocket of her hip. Jester cackled and snorted behind the man’s hand, unable to fight against the dunamantic magic that held her in place. It seemed wizard’s made amazing ticklers, with their dexterous, precise fingers.

“Nod your head if you understand, Jester…”

Essek was enjoying this. He had a grin on his face, one less evil and more proud. Jester was about to nod when the hand at her mouth joined its brethren, both choosing to squeeze at the point where hips met thighs. The laughter that spilled from Jester’s mouth was hysterical, giving her the boost needed to break the spell’s hold on her as her hands weakly tried to pry Essek’s off of her, legs pedalling in the air with how much the Shadowhand’s fingers tickled.

“Ah… Essek? Jester?”

Both parties stopped dead. Neither had even heard the door open, but as they looked they found Caleb standing in the entryway. His face was noticeably flushed at the sight he had encountered, not able to look directly at them. Though Jester and Essek didn’t look at each other, both knew what the other was thinking; adorable.

“I-I apologise, Beauregard had asked the Tower be soundproofed tonight so I did not hear from outside… Should I….?”

“No!! Gods, Light no!!”, Essek yelped, scrambling to his feet and casting a half-hearted glare to Jester, who stuck her tongue out back. “Jester was just leaving, aren’t I right Ms. Lavorre?”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Thelyss~!”, the woman giggled, speeding from the room with a wink to the wizards.

“……… So that was-“

“Advanced interrogation techniques, we shall call them.”, Essek said quickly, trying to keep away the blush once more. Caleb couldn’t help a small smile crossing his face at that, taking a seat beside the spell scroll once more.

“Ah, a different sort of lesson for our cleric, I suppose…”, he said with a small chuckle, patting the spot beside him. “Let us stick to dunamancy for tonight, hm?”

Essek took a few seconds to smooth out his robes and compose himself. Seeing Caleb act so… Normally about all this. It was oddly comforting, to know he didn’t mind. Even stranger, Essek thought as he took his seat, was one observation.

That wasn’t so bad.

“Perhaps a lesson for another day, Mr. Widogast?”

He caught the way Caleb flushed and concentrated on the scroll, along with the small embarrassed smile that returned.

“Heh. Another day, yes.”

#critical role #critical role tickle fic #critickle role #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #shadowgast #tickling #tickle fic #eldritch writes #YES WELCOME TO MY LONGEST FIC #i spent so fuckin much time on this akdskd #hopefully people like it tho!!

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camthesolemnone · 3 years

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hi, me again! so, another idea, is one of the two (or both) somehow manage to convince the other to wear a dress or something. it can go however you'd like it to. maybe they don't like the dress, maybe they end up loving it and the other get's them more. just: Medic or Heavy in a dress/skirt

Is this abuse? Eh, probably, but it's kind of funny.

"Doktor, there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you...except wear that."

"Come on! Just for a few moments, bitte?"

"Da, do it! You'll look stunning, brother!"

Heavy sat in a comically small chair that incredibly held his weight with crossed arms and a stubborn frown. He had brought his beloved to Russia so the two of them could relax and spend time with Mikhail's family during their Swissmas furlough, not for Medic and his youngest sister Bronislava to try and force him into one of Zhanna's dresses.

"If you do this for me, Herr, when we return to the battlefield, I will make your sandwiches for you for the next month," Ludwig stated, attempting to compromise.

Bronislava struggled to come up with her own proposition, so she simply reassured her brother that the red, thin strapped gown would fit him well.

"Nyet! You are acting very silly, Ludwig. And Bronislava! Heavy is certain Zhanna did not approve of this. Return her the dress, now," he commanded.

The recently-turned adult crossed her own arms and cocked her hip to the side.

"You are not Mama, Misha! And I steal her dresses all of the time"

"Wha--"

"What is going on in here?"

The three residents of Bronislava's bedroom turned their heads at the sound of a new voice and the door creaking open. Standing in the frame was Zhanna, strong in all of the right places with nice curvature to boot. Yana, who was slightly shorter and had lighter hair, trailed in behind her curiously.

"Misha's going to put on a dress!" Bronislava explained, and Heavy shot her a death glare followed by, "No such thing is happening!"

Yana and Medic giggled while Zhanna eyed the dress in her sister's hands. Her gaze flickered to Heavy and his obvious distress. By the sharp frown on her face and the way her hands sat on her hips, it was clear that the busty Russian wasn't having any of it.

The room soon went silent under her glare, as icy as the snowy tundra that surrounded the house.

"This is...a very good idea!" She exclaimed.

Mikhail's eyes widened in shock and fear as his sisters and his lover cheered with maniacal smiles. Suddenly, they were closing in on him. The giant backed up in an attempt to escape his inevitable fate, but his back hit the wall and he was surrounded on all sides.

"Please, don't do this!" Heavy pleaded.

If they were really going to shove him into the frilly piece of clothing, there was nothing he could possibly do to stop them. Mikhail would never lift a finger against his family or his doctor.

Speaking of whom, Medic's sharp teeth and eyes gleamed with giddy excitement. His hands snaked up the Russian's body, and Heavy almost thought he was going to kiss him before Yana pumped a fist into the air and yelled, "Pin him down, Ludwig!"

"Misha! Girls! Mister Ludwig! I have returned from the market with fresh fish!" Mama gleefully announced as she stepped through the front door.

The only response she got was a series of giggles coming from Bronislava's room. Her interest peaked, the Russian mother set the groceries down in the kitchen before moving to investigate what her children were up to.

The youngest daughter's door swung open, and Mama was met with the most humorous sight she had perhaps ever seen.

Heavy was lying helplessly on the floor in a red dress. It was tight and uncomfortable, but what made it worse was a combination of Bronislava going through her makeup, Yana raking through the closet for a pair of high heels, and Medic sitting on the Russian's back as he chatted with Zhanna.

"Mama, eto pytka," Mikhail said, tilting his head up to face his amused guardian.

After stifling a laugh, Mama shook her head and snapped her fingers, drawing in everyone's attention.

"Girls, come, help prepare dinner. Give Misha a break, will you?"

The trio let out a disappointed groan, but obliged. No one challenged Mama's orders.

Once Zhanna, Yana, and Bronislava had filed out, Medic turned his gaze to his lover's mother.

"And what shall I do, frau?" He asked as if he still weren't lounging on Heavy's back.

Mama smiled and waved him off.

"You are guest here, so you just enjoy yourself. Although, if you could assist my son in getting ready for dinner, that would be greatly appreciated."

Medic nodded in understanding and Mama gave him one last smile before shutting the door. The moment he heard the click, Mikhail firmly planted his hands on the ground and rolled over as to shake Ludwig off of him. He stood up tall and dusted off his freezing legs with a noise of frustration.

"What did I say, meine liebe! You look gorgeous~" Medic smirked, admiring his love from the ground.

Heavy scowled.

"When we get back to base, we have a lot to discuss, Doktor."

#tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #fanfiction snippet #tf2 zhanna #tf2 yana #tf2 bronislava

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zaddyzemo · 3 years

Text

<< following his first night back home and the first letter you ever got to read from him, you had trouble sleeping. you cried, you laughed, you tossed and turned, dreading and dreaming what the next day will bring.

nothing. nothing happened the next day. or the next. or the week leading up to the first ball baron Zemo hosted since the death of his beloved baroness and Helmut's only protection from his harsh punishments. nothing happened but a few stolen glances as he strode through you and the other servants busying themselves with bouquets, brand new curtains, and silver cutlery. he regarded you with the same stern expression as he did everything and everyone since leaving for the new ruler's new armed forces as a boy and returning to you as a man.

it was only right before the ball, right before you changed from your servant clothes to the dress his friend and royal butler, Oeznik, had snuck into the small chamber you shared with your parents. it wasn't a perfect fit and you suspected it was because he still saw you as the little girl he hid away in the stables with and drew pictures of. you were a woman now and you've never felt more like one than that night. the rouge really brought out your cheeks and lips. even noblemen noticed and they must've mistaken you for one of theirs because they smiled as you entered the ballroom. your father told you to keep your head down, but you were already trying to get swallowed by the curtains when she arrived.

Heike von Strucker was the belle of the ball, but you expected nothing less of the bride-to-be. when Helmut Zemo, the groom-to-be, offered his hand and a smile, you wanted to sink into the hole that was torn into your heart. if one of the noblemen that were taken by you hadn't invited you to dance and left your father no choice but to nod in agreement, you might've left the ball before it begun.

your dance partner didn't mind you stepping on his toes, even remarking on how his late mother also had to count when they danced just as you did. when he saw that you were too faint to stay on your feet for much longer, he took you out on the balcony and ordered that drinks be delivered. you had water, no matter how much he insisted on a spirit, and began talking about the beautiful landscape the moon was contouring that night. 'young Heike will be very happy here.' before you could ask yourself who this man was, before you could answer his question regarding the future baron and his relationship to you, young Heike herself stepped out on the balcony on Helmut's arm.

'Herr Schmidt,' Helmut saluted him. 'Johann, Father's been looking for you everywhere,' Heike hurried to hug him and your unspoken question got answer: your dance partner was Johann Schmidt, his lordship's commanding officer and the man who beat the boy you once knew out of him.

'i didn't mean to disappear, but this fetching fräuline needed some fresh air.' then, as he turned to Helmut, he held your hand in his. 'you might've noticed her sorry state since you couldn't take your eyes off of us. we are the best dancers at this ball after all.' Heike's laugh was genuine, yours was a forced giggle and Helmut's was a strained smile. after you all returned to the festivities, you tried and failed to escape Schmidt's side. you even met baron von Strucker and Helmut was forced to introduce you as the late baroness' latest lady in waiting. it was a half-truth as Helga Zemo was a defender of yours and her son's friendship and you were even wearing a dress inspired by those found in her wardrobe.

after the last car drove off, you and your parents retired to your chamber as the commander finally bid you goodbye, and the newly engaged couple were each escorted to their separate suites. as you were wiping the rouge off and letting your hair down, Oeznik knocked at your door for the second time that night. Helmut had written to you again and your answer was to take the secret stairway to the library. that was where he said he'd be waiting for you and that's where you found him, his slicked-back hair now falling in his face and his uniform unbuttoned.

'when I invited you to the ball, it was because I wanted you by my side during this most important moment in my life,' he whispered, waving his hands around. 'not fluttering your lashes at my commanding officer.'

'Helmut,' you shook your head as if you heard him for the first time. in a way, it was. he was sounding more like the boy whose bruises you'd kiss than ever. 'i did want to be by your side. I did. but i know enough about chivalry not to refuse a gentleman's offer. i meant to go unnotice and-'

'everyone noticed you,' he hissed, cornering you. you didn't cower, not really. you tattered heart was beating out of your chest as he called attention to every detail of your dress and how it revealed more than he had meant it to. he sounded like he was in pain by the time he was finished. 'you play the part of a lady well. or is it a mistress you were portraying?' his breath was blowing hot and humid air into your hair. his eyes were lurking on the nightdress that was falling off your shivering shoulders. the stone wall was cold, but his eyes were on fire. 'is it the new stable boy? is it one of Father's newly anointed knights?'

'i don't understand,' you wheezed, out of breath and your pulse beating in your pelvis. 'i don't understand what you're-'

'who did you part your legs for?' he emphasized by parting your legs with one knee and forcing his thigh between yours.

'nobody.'

'nobody?' he watched your hips thrust against his thigh.

'never.'

'you waited for me.' his hand cupped your cheek before he snatched your throat. 'all these years, you waited for me.' then, he took the rest of your breath away with a kiss as biting as it was balming.

#baron zemo #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #zemo

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nestasgalpal · 3 years

Text

To take without permission

Fixing ACOTAR part 6

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Nesta climbs down the stairs once again, and when she comes back to the top, Starfall is waiting for her. Amren is there too, and they are finally forced to face one another.

Tagging: @gwynriel @zoyaslai @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord-deactivated20210 @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267 @jainadurron @darkshadowqueensrule @amphiptree @finae-bookshelf @niytavia @brainlessfruit @dontgetsalmonella @messyhairday-me @sunsummoner @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @wannawriteyouabook @psychoticminx @misswonderflower

A/N: I’m writting a whole Starfall scene following this chapter

Open air and music flowed around her, glasses clinking and clothing rustling, and she opened her eyes again as Cassian set her down after taking her to the terrace in his arms.

Stars flowed overhead. Thousands and thousands of stars. She barely remembered last year’s Starfall. Had been too drunk to care.

But this, so high up …

Nesta didn’t care that she was covered in sweat, wearing her leathers amongst a bejeweled crowd. Not as she staggered onto the veranda at the top of the House and gaped at the stars raining across the bowl of the sky. They zoomed by, so close some sparked against the stones, leaving glowing dust in their wake.

She had a vague sense of Cassian and Mor and Azriel nearby, of Feyre and Rhys and Lucien, of Elain and Varian and Helion. Of Kallias and Viviane, also swollen with child and glowing with joy and strength. Nesta smiled in greeting and left them blinking, but she forgot them within a moment because the stars, the stars, the stars…

She hadn’t realized that such beauty existed in the world. That she might feel so full from wonder it could hurt, like her body couldn’t contain all of it. And she didn’t know why she cried then, but the tears began rolling down her face.

She thought about Emerie, who was in Illyria, and wondered if she was glaring at the sky and marveling at the sight of the same explosion of light and color she saw when she looked upwards.

Then, her thoughts went to Gwyn, and Nesta asked herself if the priestess could see the stardust falling from the night sky from the window in her bedroom. Nesta pictured Gwyn’s radiant smile, her auburn hair, all covered in sparkly blue dust.

The world was beautiful, and she was so grateful to be in it. To be alive, to be here, to see this. She stuck out a hand over the railing, grazing a star as it shot past, and her fingers came away glowing with lilac and green dust. She laughed, a sound of pure joy, and she cried more, because that joy was a miracle.

“That’s a sound I never thought to hear from you, girl” Amren said beside her.

The delicate female was regal in a gown of light gray, diamonds at her throat and wrists, her usual black bob silvered with the starlight.

Nesta wiped away her tears, smearing the stardust upon her cheeks and not caring. For a long moment, her throat worked, trying to sort through all that sought to rise from her chest. Amren just held her stare, waiting.

Nesta didn’t really know what to say. The only thing in her head was their last encounter, when she stormed into her apartment and exploded. Nesta had to master herself -her breathing, so the bitter tint of the memory didn’t ruin the happiness that had been filling her soul mere seconds ago. She wouldn't give Amren the power to make such a wonderful moment bad for her. She was better than that. Than her.

Knowing Amren, and knowing how Amren thought of her, a calculating and spoiled girl, Nesta gave herself the privilege of not answering to her greeting.

Nesta braced herself and waited for the insult, but instead, Amren fell to one knee and bowed her head. The movement was so sudden, Nesta didn't have time to understand what she was doing before Amren said, “I am sorry.”

Nesta made a sound of surprise, knowing that the others were watching. Normally she would hate the attention, the stares —she had always found comfort in privacy. But watching the silver and green dust coat Amren’s black hair as the female bend the knee to her, Nesta didn’t care for the others. She eyed the figure before her and waited, wary and way more tense than a simple bow should make herr. But it was not just anyone bending the knee, it was Amren, the Second in Command of the Night Court. The female who had made up a law to imprison her.

And she was apologizing to her. “I was jealous of the power you were given while mine was taken. I was mad you didn't show respect for the blessing you received. And scared of what you might do with it. And too proud to admit it.”

You are a pathetic waste of life, Amren had told her. The insult had hit her so deep that Nesta thought for a long, long time that she was right —That she was a waste of life. But she was not. Nesta hesitated, doubting if an apology, public or not, could really make up for the damage her words, her voluntary absence in Nesta's life, had provoked. To Amren, who had never bowed to anyone but Rhysand, and only a couple of times in her lifetime, doing it in front of everyone so they could watch her bare herself to someone else was humiliating. Nesta knew that. But to her, it meant nothing. She didn't want Amren to embarrass herself. She didn't want her to suffer half of what she had been through. She wanted an explanation. She wanted to know why her only friend in Prythian had decided to turn her back to her without a second thought.

Because Amren hadn't just pretended Nesta was a stranger as she went on with her life, like other had. No, she had made an enemy of her, and she had conspired with Rhysand to take everything from her, make her vulnerable, a puppet. She had picked on her at every occasion, knowing Nesta was at her lowest.

So bowing would do nothing. An excuse would do nothing. Nesta's forgiveness demanded a reason she could understand of why Amren had made of Nesta a monster in everyone's mind on purpose and with such ease.

You are a pathetic waste of life. The words had been like a poisoned knife straight though her guts. Though her heart, because Nesta had trusted Amren, and had thought she had a true friend in her. Someone to have her back no matter what.

“Scared of what, Amren?” She demanded “Did I ever give you reasons to see me as a threat? Did I ever do anything to any of you to make you fear me?”

Through her lashes, Amren looked up at Nesta. The diamonds in her neck reflecting the shimmer of the stars above.

“You gave me reasons to see you as an unreliable vessel for the power you were given. For all I knew, you could have killed yourself by accident in a bar fight. And you refused to go back into training your abilities.”

“Even though Feyre requested I did, yes. I remember.”

That had been the breaking point. With that order, Feyre had drawn the line in the sand where her concern as a sister stopped, and her authority as a High Lady began. She would try convincing Nesta her way was the best way, and when she didn't cooperate, Feyre would resort to using force. Power. Influence. Authority. Feyre had given an order to Amren so they went back to training Nesta's abilities. And Nesta was the one who refused, yes, but Amren was the one who listened to Feyre —the High Lady, not her friend— and put her job before their friendship in the first place. Feyre gave an order, and Amren didn't hesitate. And maybe with Feyre, Amren had two different relationships that she balanced: one where they were simply friends, and other where she had to obey; Nesta didn't know nor did she care at this point. But the saddest part for Nesta was that, for her, Amren had only been a friend. Her only friend.

And if Amren had bothered to explain to her that it hadn't been the command what made her change her mind but the realization that she wasn't being helpful, like Feyre did in her painting studio, maybe she would have understood, in the end. But she had turned her back on her fully. And Nesta had been the only one paying for that.

Nesta had once seen everything as either Feyre's or hers. And she had trusted the ancient one to the point of telling her that. That sometimes she still struggled to manage their new dynamic. Sister, but also High Lady. Nesta wasn't sure if Feyre was her High Lady even, if she belonged to the Night Court the same way her sister did. And Amren had played that on her, knowing Nesta wouldn't understand her reasons nor her sister's as she called her calling childish and walked away.

No matter how many times she bowed to her, Nesta was unsure if she would ever trust the female as she once had.

So the only thing left for Nesta to do as everyone watched and Amren waited was to become the Queen of Darkness they all feared. Her eyes became the hardest steel, her gaze unwavering. Her back was straight, shoulders back and chin up. If she wanted to apologize now when her face was covered in glittery dust, her hair out of place after climbing up ten thousand steps and her eyes were red from crying, she would let her. But Amren wouldn't find in her a tired child. She would have to talk to the female she had tried to push down in the first place. Amren had wanted the version of Nesta who made High Lords go rigid to vanish, so if she really wanted Nesta's pardon, she would have to earn it facing her.

“What you fail to realize even now" Nesta started, her voice breaking the silence that reigned in the balcony "is that my power was not given to me. It wasn’t a blessing grant it to me because I was worthy. I took it because I wanted to. And the Cauldron was not strong enough to stop me. Do you think that the silly words you use to distract from the fact that you are powerless will be a good enough barrier to keep me from what I wish to do or take?" The words rambled out of her mouth like thunder "You think you can stop me, if taking my life and yours with it is what I want?”

Amren’s silver eyes shone with something like pride. It was not a challenge, Nesta realized. It was recognition, acknowledgement —of her. Of the Nesta who had befriended and then tried to destroy unsuccessfully. The Nesta that would never yield under anyone's command.

Amren saw her. She saw the girl she had been when asking why everyone was so afraid of her -because Nesta truly wasn’t even a bit thrown off by Amren’s now lost power. Amren saw in the Nesta who stand in front of her the woman who stole from the Cauldron itself, who wore the Mask from the Trove and didn’t die because she commanded Death.

So Nesta let that silver flame meet her own irises and match Amren’s fire.

In the corner of her eye, Nesta could tell how Feyre shuddered, Rhysand by her side in a protective stance.

He wouldn’t be able to stop her either, neither would that unbreakable shield of his. Nesta hated the wary look in everyone’s eyes, as if she was a wild animal and her next move was equal parts unpredictable and dangerous. As if nothing had changed and all those months in the House of Wind had been for nothing.

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t raised her voice. She had only been the version of herself that had saved her life countless times when enemies stronger than here attacked.

Nesta only wanted to look at the stars and enjoy the night, go back to her room in a few hours with her stomach full and covered in bright stardust. Why was everyone so scared of what she might do to them, when the only person her power had ever hurt was herself?

Among the tight faces, she saw Cassian, his hazel eyes warm like a summer sunset. Looking straight at her. His hair was no longer black, it was blue, and purple, golden and all the colors of the rainbow. And he didn’t look scared or even a bit worried, he was just… looking. Casual. Almost relaxed.

So Nesta relaxed too. It’s a beautiful night, a charming party and a wonderful time to be alive and among friends, his eyes told her.

And he was right.

Only recently Nesta had found back the joy for life —if she had even experienced it before. Sometimes she still doubted. But she wanted to live now, no matter how hard things were. She had finally found the alleviation of being forgiven during her short trip back to the Mortal Lands. First, she would seek forgiveness from the people she loved and had hurt. Then, from herself.

She was not healed, but definitely on the right path.

She had Cassian, who was a friend.

She also had her sister, who she trusted.

She had friends of her own who were probably in their bedrooms, fighting their own battles as they did every night and as eager to meet the next day and train together as she was.

Nesta no longer wanted people on her side, only by her side. It was not a race or a competition. She had been fighting only against herself.

Having Amren in front of her, kneeling with her head bowed and everyone looking, waiting for her to do something —spectators in a trial waiting for the judge to pass the sentence, Nesta thought that maybe she was entitled to forgive others, too. Maybe she was willing, even.

She was ready to let go of all the resentment that ate her alive.

She had to let go.

Nesta tend her a hand. Amren said nothing else, she only lifted her head to find Nesta’s eyes on her, something like wonder on her face. Amren’s eyes became lined with silver, a hint of how they had once been. And her old friend took the hand that Nesta was offering her. She helped her rise.

Even as a high fae, Amren had a way of getting under Nesta’s skin, of provoking in her an urge to get everything out of her chest. A long time ago, Nesta had found herself in her apartment, crawled in her fancy velvet couch and not feeling judged while she cried. After last summer’s incident, the closest thing to an emotion Amren ignited in her had been anger. Lastly, her words no longer got to her, indifference a soft echo in her head whenever Amren called her a whore. Boredom at the unoriginality.

No matter how many people were still looking, watching Amren get up from the floor, the fabric of her dress whirling around her like waves from a silver sea, Nesta felt back the urge to talk to Amren. To tell her how badly she had needed her for months, and how lost she had found herself when she didn’t have a friend reaching their hand anymore.

But she didn't. Now it was Amren who had to prove herself worthy of a second chance.

Amren looked back at the silent crowd, and suddenly all of them found the stars raining from above them fascinating. They were.

When everyone occupied themselves back, Kallias and Viviane dancing, Feyre eating a pastry from a nearby table, Amren spoke again. “I went poking about the House when we arrived an hour ago. I saw what you did to this place.”

Nesta’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t changed anything.

“The House sings. I can hear it in the stone. And when I spoke to it, it answered. Granted, it gave me a pile of romance novels by the end of it, but … you caused this House to come alive, girl.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made the House,” Amren said, smiling again, a slash of red and white in the glowing dark. “When you arrived here, what did you wish for most?”

Nesta considered, watching a few stars whiz past. “A friend. Deep down, I wanted a friend.”

Amren’s face tensed a little. She was also making an effort, Nesta realized. She was swallowing her pride as much as Nesta had been by letting everyone witness such a private moment. It was a start.

That’s what she had wanted. That’s the only thing Nesta had always wanted throughout her entire life.

“So you made one. Your power brought the House to life with a silent wish born from loneliness and desperate need.”

“But my power only creates terrible things. The House is good” Nesta breathed.

“Is it?”

Nesta considered. “The darkness in the pit of the library —it’s the heart of the House.”

Amren nodded. “And where is it now?”

“It hasn’t made an appearance in weeks. But it’s still there. I think it’s just … being managed. Maybe the House’s knowledge that I’m aware of it, and didn’t judge it, makes it easier to keep in check.”

Amren put a hand above Nesta’s heart. “That’s the key, isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus upon the good, the things that fill you with wonder.” She gestured to the stars zooming past. “The struggle with that darkness is worth it, just to see such things.”

But Nesta’s gaze had slid from the stars —finding a familiar face in the forgotten crowd, dancing with Mor. Laughing, his head thrown back. So beautiful she had no words for it.

Amren chuckled gently. “And worth it for that, too.”

Nesta looked back at her. Amren smiled, and her face became as lovely as Cassian’s, as the stars arching past. “Welcome back to the Night Court, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta tend her a hand again for Amren to shake it. To seal the truce. Amren took it and shook it, her grip tight.

“I’m sorry too” Nesta added. Not sorry for anything in particular, but because she felt like she had handled everything in her life the wrong way since the beginning. She was sorry, she wanted to voice it, and Amren was, once again, the one next to her, willing to listen and not judge.

“Then I’ll send you the bill of rehanging the door of my apartment.”

Nesta laid back against the veranda. “And I’ll send it back to Feyre” she laughed. Amren burst a laughter too, loud and honest.

Starfall was almost too beautiful to witness.

After a short while, Nesta went back inside, not having talked to anyone after Amren went back to dance with Varian. The one person Nesta would have liked to dance with was busy, his hands on someone else’s waist.

The stars still buzzed over the House. She bathed quickly and changed into a clean and simple dress. Nothing fancy, but better than the sweaty leathers.

When she came out of her room, Feyre was slowly coming down the stairs from the floor above, her pregnancy making it a little harder to climb down the bunch of stairs that it would have been for her months ago.

“I was looking for you” She was radiant. She wore one of those see-through dresses she liked so much and a crown made of golden stars.

“I wanted a moment with you too.” Nesta stopped by her side. “I actually need a favor.” Feyre nodded, inviting Nesta to go on and ask without conditions. “I’m heading to the library… I’m sure Gwyn —my friend, is awake, and I think she would love to see the Starfall from outside her room.”

Feyre didn’t even think about it before she responded, her smile huge “Sure, Cass has told me abut her. She is more than welcomed into our party”

Nesta felt a tug in her stomach. That was not what she was about to ask Feyre to do. She felt a little guilty, but hoped Feyre would understand her decision, even if she didn’t share it.

Nesta’s mind was sure. She only had to ask Feyre. Voice what she clearly wanted so her sister knew. It was easy.

“I was wondering if any of you could be absent for a short while and go find Emerie. She is our friend too, but she lives in Illyria” Feyre’s lips twitched, the pinch of disappointment so obvious in her eyes that it didn’t really matter that her smile didn’t fade. “I can’t winnow” she added.

“I’ll ask Az” Nesta nodded. Feyre considered a thought for a moment and put a hand on Nesta’s shoulder, squeezing it. “And I’ll teach you how to winnow too, in the future” Feyre laughed, her teeth white. “I’m sure you have the magic to fuel it, you just need practice and in a week you’ll be able to move around just fine”

A grin formed in her lips at the idea. She would like that… the freedom to come and go. She could mess with Gwyn and Emerie during the training sessions too. She laughed.

When Feyre’s eyes watered, her hand still resting on her shoulder, Nesta realized her sister hadn't seen her laugh before. Nesta hadn’t done it for years, to be fair. But she felt good doing it. And she felt glad her sister finally got to be a part of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us up there? It’s the best spot in the city” One last try, just in case Nesta changed her mind. But once she rejected the offer, Feyre wouldn’t insist beyond.

Even if they were still welcome to join them.

“I don’t really care abut the place.”

And Feyre understood what she meant.

Because they would always be sisters, but it was undeniable that each of them had found a family and friends of their own. And they would always be together —they would always be there for each other, but Nesta wanted to spend the most beautiful night of the year among her friends, just as Feyre did.

And it was okay, because they would have thousands more in the future to share.

#fixing acosf #acosf fanfic #acosf fanfiction #acosf fic #acosf fix it #acosf fix it fic #acotar fix-it fic #nesta archeron #nesta archeron fanfiction

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multibug · 4 years

Text

Passion Fruit Lip Gloss

AO3

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U SO MUCH @emsylcatac

tags: identity reveal, fluff, kissing, aged-up characters, slight crack

Marinette adjusts the bedazzled party hat atop her head, the bright gold a stark contrast to her jet black hair. It doesn’t exactly go with her outfit of choice, though she’s not necessarily angry at it.

It was either that or the bedazzled green tiny cowboy hat.-

(“Green?!” she had asked Alya, when she was showing Marinette ideas about what to do for the hats.

“For our school colors, silly. We probably won’t use them anyway.”

Alya did end up using them in the end.)

Marinette’s wearing a peach-colored long-sleeve silk button up with thin red and white stripes vertically lining it. It’s tucked into a pair of black shorts with a leather belt.

In a moment of pure hastiness, she had chosen her tallest thigh high black heels, with a heel that raised her three full inches over her normal height.

A small beret keeps one side of her hair pinned back so her ear is exposed. She tied a thin choker around her neck to complete the look and a small touch of makeup with glossy lips.

It’s passion fruit flavor.

The clock hanging on the wall reads 23h00, giving Marinette a good hour and a half before she can beg off feigning tiredness as her excuse so Alya doesn’t call her a party pooper. It’s not that Marinette doesn’t like to party per say, it’s that she’s not exactly the third wheel type.

She’s had more than enough of it the last few days, thank you very much.

All of their friends are paired up with someone, whether it’s platonic or not. Alya and Nino, Kim and Ondine, Luka and XY—a big shocker to all of their friends with how much Luka despised him back in the day. There’s the obvious Juleka and Rose still holding strong, Kagami and Chloé, another eye-opener when they revealed it to their friends earlier last month.

Ivan and Mylène, who endured a long-distance relationship for a while before Ivan and his family moved back to Paris in August. Nathaniel and Marc, who sadly weren’t around a lot to cause Marinette much of a heartache, but enough nonetheless.

Even Alix and Max, two entirely platonic friends, were enough to make Marinette feel like she was third wheeling.

They aren’t doing it on purpose, at least Marinette thinks they aren’t, yet the longing to have someone on this chilly New Years Eve is almost unbearable. Almost.

A mix of something fruity and strong loiters in her hand long enough to help kick the feeling.

“Girl, what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?” Alya gently bumps her hip into Marinette’s, eyeing her over the top of her straw as she takes a sip of her drink. “You’ve been off all night!”

Alya’s cowboy hat is nearly slipping off her head at this point, though it looks as though the redhead hasn’t noticed.

Marinette stifles a giggle, shoving her half-filled drink into Alya’s free hand. She watches in bemusement as part of the drink sloshes to the floor and goes about fixing the small hat on top of Alya’s head. “There! All fixed.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to avoid my question,” Alya remarks with a sharply raised eyebrow.

“Me? Trying to avoid your question? Alya, you must be drunker than you think!” Marinette quickly takes the drink back from Alya’s hand and downs the rest of it, throwing an overly enthusiastic thumbs up in its wake.

“I’m on my first drink, M,” Alya deadpans.

Pursing her lips together, Marinette shrugs her shoulder sheepishly. “Sorry?”

The song changes from a slower song to a more upbeat one, the accompanying lights Nino installed in his and Alya’s apartment changing to the tune of it.

Alya knocks back the rest of her drink and slams the cup onto a nearby counter, a devious glint in her eyes.

Oh no.

“Come dance with me, M!” Her hand encircles Marinette’s wrist, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor whether Marinette wants to or not.

Marinette nearly trips over her heels in an attempt to keep up with Alya’s longer legs, knowing it's fruitless to argue with Alya when she has her mind set to something.

Out of the corner of her eye, a familiar tall blond squeezes past them with relative ease, Marinette briefly making eye contact with them. Time feels as though it slows down, Marinette’s lips parting slightly as she peers into the bright eyes of Adrien, who she hasn’t seen since Nino threw him a spectacular 19th birthday party in September.

A birthday party that Marinette still can’t remember to this day.

All she recalls is getting extremely plastered after seeing Adrien pictured with a girl in his newest edition of Vogue Paris. He hadn’t spoken about whether the girl was his girlfriend at the time, yet seeing them together had her feeling as though she was on fire.

Months of Marinette working towards getting over him just for her to realize it’s seemingly useless.

He’s always going to have a special place in her heart, she suspects.

His eyes soften as soon as he realizes it's her, his lips curving into a beautiful smile that outperforms all of his photoshoot pictures by a landslide. His hair’s grown slightly longer since she’s last seen him, curling around the back of his ear—a bit reminiscent of their collège days.

Adrien’s still just as gorgeous as she remembers.

“You look good,” she squeaks out over the bass of the music, inwardly screaming at herself to shut up.

“Thank you—” he cuts himself off as Alya drags Marinette across the room, his hand outstretched in reaching towards her.

Gosh, how she yearns to see if it’s as soft as it looks, even in the dim multi-colored lighting.

“Honey, I think the liquor is getting to you,” Alya whisper-yells into her ear, a tiny smirk lingering on her face.

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the party hat sliding with the movement. “No way, Al! I haven’t been drinking like that. Only enough for some liquid courage, you know?”

Just then, she trips over the heel of her boot and nearly forces them to the floor from using Alya as leverage. Thankfully, Alya was standing close enough to the wall to support them before that happened.

“Sure, babe. I’ll make sure either Nino or I take you home later.”

Sticking her tongue out at Alya, she sets her empty drink onto the nearest flat surface and throws her arms around Alya’s neck, losing herself to the beat of the music. Her hips move in time with the songs, some she faintly remembers, and others she’s never heard of.

Alya’s close enough to her that she begins to feel a bit sweaty as the songs pass.

At some point while Hot in Herre by Nelly is playing, Nino saddles up to them with drinks in his hands.

“Babe, I think she’s had enough,”Alya all but snaps.

Nino shoots her a look that says relax without actually saying it.

“Thanks, Nino! You’re a real pal.” Marinette loops her arm through his and leans her head against his bicep, taking a sip from the drink he gives her. “Yuck, water.”

“Yeah, you are a real pal,” Alya says with a fond grin, pressing a slightly sweaty kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, love.”

Marinette huffs. “I take it back. You’re not my pal.” She ruins this statement by tightening her grip on his arm.

“Ooh, she’s clingy tonight. Are you drunk, Nette?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just abnormally tipsy is all! I think it might just be hitting me now. Oh dear, maybe the water is a good idea.” Frowning, she sips at the water with her nose scrunched, a small pout forming on her face.

Raising her arm up to stare at the watch on her hand, she squints her eyes and is barely able to make out the time: 23h50.

Another New Years Eve, another kissless year.

“Hey guys! Kim is looking for you two. He said something about a major spill in the kitchen?”

It’s Adrien, dressed in a light blue—is that Givenchy?!—cotton button-up with yellow and green flowers scattered on it. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the shirt itself is tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of brown chelsea boots.

It suits him well, so much so that she clenches her jaw to stop it from dropping.

Snap out of it.

Marinette blinks owlishly at Adrien, the liquor causing her head to feel fuzzy.

“I don’t want to leave Nette alone—”

Adrien laughs softly, hands shoved into his pockets as he interrupts, “Nino, I can take care of Mar while you guys go help Kim, yeah?”

“I am not a child.” Marinette detaches herself from Nino and stands proudly, chin held high. “I can take care of myself!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Adrien replies gently, as to not spook her. “I’ll just be around to make sure you’re okay in the process, is that cool?”

He’s so nice. It warms her heart. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool, let’s go.” He slings an arm over her shoulder languidly and smiles down at her.

Her heart races.

“Do you want to go onto the balcony to watch the fireworks? Nino and Alya said it’s off limits, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us, right guys?”

Alya winks over at Marinette as Adrien’s head turns away to glance at Nino, and she replies, “Yeah, go for it.”

A blush rises on her cheeks, heat stinging her face. She’s going to kill Alya.

“C’mon, Mar, we’re out this bitch.” Adrien steers them over to the balcony and easily has them through the sliding doors within seconds.

It drowns out the party lingering behind them.

Glancing down at her wrist, Marinette notes that her watch reads 23h55. Five minutes until midnight. Time feels as though it’s gone so fast yet so slow, strangely enough.

She shivers, though the sensation is mostly coming from her stockings as her shirt’s fairly thick. She’s surprised when she feels a weight on her shoulders.

Out of thin air, Adrien produces a heavy bomber jacket that warms her to the core immediately. Maybe he grabbed it on their way out without her realizing it? Whatever the case may be, she’s very grateful for the heat seeping into her body while they’re out in the frigid Parisian air.

“Thank you,” she murmurs in response, her arms crossing to grab either side of the jacket and hold it around her body.

“Of course,” he replies, shooting her the same smile from earlier.

It warms her more than the jacket does.

“You know,” he starts, hands twitching on the balcony railing, as he glances from the beautiful city view to her face. “I have so much to talk to you about. So much to say. Now isn’t the right time obviously, as you’ve been drinking—”

Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m perfectly coherent, Adrien.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he defends easily, his arm groping her elbow to ground her. “I’m just saying that I think this is a conversation where both of us should be completely sober and open to hearing the topic at hand.”

What does he mean by that? She’s not sure where she should be confused and worried or elated that he wants to talk to her about something serious. Either way, it’s puzzling her already fuzzy brain to the point where she bites down on her lower lip and lets out a huff unknowingly.

“Is it bad?” she finally asks, eyes flickering to her watch.

23h58.

“No, no! It’s not bad at all.” He squeezes her elbow reassuringly and smiles warmly at her, eyes glittering even in the dim light that shines above them. “I’m hoping it’ll be a good conversation, though I want you to remember it. That’s why I’m waiting.”

Waiting. Good. it’s good. For a good conversation. Ugh. Her brain hurts.

“Okay,” Marinette murmurs, blinking up at him slightly confused. She returns the smile once she notices his, it being too contagious for her not to. “Okay, I believe you.”

He hasn’t removed his hand from her elbow. She hasn’t shaken him off either.

Beyond them, miles and miles away, in the sea of twinkling lights and crowds of people, fireworks explode into the night sky as bright sensations. They light up the dark with their vibrant colors and intoxicating patterns, making it irresistibly hard to look away.

The second she does, her eyes are drawn to another light, this one alive.

Adrien, who is watching the fireworks with an expression of wonder. A tilt to his eyebrows and a small drop of his jaw, cheekbones dipping high with the shadow of the night.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks, rather than wishing him a Happy New Years. Rather than stare at the beautiful swirls and patterns happening adjacent to her. She’s too focused on the beautiful boy in front of her, whether he knows she’s talking about him or not.

It has to be said.

He lets out a small chuckle and nods his head, free hand rubbing at the back of his head as he whispers, “Yeah, it sure is.”

“Bonne Année, Adrien, “ she whispers, so gently that she’s unsure as to if he’s heard it.

Wonder-filled eyes flickering over to her helps in answering her question.. He grins impossibly wide, all of his teeth showing so it’s nearly comical, yet it’s so unabashedly Adrien that she can’t help but return it for a second time tonight.

Adrien leans in, and for a second, Marinette truly thinks he’s going to kiss her. Her heart starts stuttering and the color the cold had ripped from her returns to her body so fast it feels like whiplash.

He doesn’t kiss her.

And yet, that isn’t the exact truth either, is it?

Lips brush against the apple of her cheek, so light that the touch feels both hot and cold simultaneously. It sends shivers throughout her body and the spot on her skin that his lips linger on burns hotter than the temperature of the sun.

She can’t think. Her brain is complete mush.

The tip of his cold nose nudges against her cheek afterwards briefly as he leans in to whisper into her ear, “Bonne Année to you as well, Marinette.”

Her heart continues to flutter until she falls asleep minutes later, curled up in his jacket all while leaning on him.

---

Daylight shines in through the slits of her blinds faster than Marinette would’ve liked, considering the horrible ache in her head. Except, she can’t exactly remember how she made it back to her apartment, which is a weird feat for her.

She rarely drinks enough to where she doesn’t remember what’s happening—Adrien’s birthday party being an anomaly.

How did she make it home yesterday?

Hm, maybe it was Alya or Nino? They aren’t the type to abandon one another in their times of need. even in times of absolute peril. There’s no way they didn’t have some part in getting her home, even if it meant physically seeing that she made it into her apartment building before leaving.

The thought makes her feel all fuzzy inside.

It could’ve been any of their friends at the party, if she’s honest. She doesn’t remember anything after Hot in Herre played on the dancefloor; hopefully bits and pieces come back as time goes on.

Oh well, it mustn’t be that important.

Peeling open an eye has her glancing over at her nightstand, a bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water sitting neatly on her otherwise messy cupboard. She makes a move to grab the bottle and water when movement near her balcony door has her freezing in place.

Chat Noir is standing there, back turned to her—she can even recognize him in horribly-taken photographs—as though he’s trying to sneak out. He turns to glance back at her and she soundly slips her eyes shut, feigning sleep.

As her balcony door creaks, her eyes open and she watches Chat shut the door and bounce off the balcony with his staff.

“Tikki?”

Her small, red friend flies out from her little nest. “Yes, Marinette?”

“Was Chat Noir just in my room?” Her voice is thick with sleep and slightly hoarse.

Tikki’s eyes widen and she glances around the room nervously. “No? Were you dreaming? Chat Noir was most definitely not in here!”

Marinette’s eyes squint up at her. “Don’t lie to me. I just saw him!”

“Well, then why did you ask me?” Tikki whines, deflating a bit as she floats closer to Marinette. “Yes, Chat Noir was here. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you as you are the Guardian and it’s your decision, but if you don’t, I won’t utter a word.”

“Will it jeopardize me knowing his identity? I wouldn’t want to do that to him,” Marinette worries, using her thumb and forefinger to toy with her lower lip.

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, Tikki shrugs. “It may. I can’t say yes or no for sure. It would have to be a risk you’re willing to take.”

“Ugh, no. I’m not going to do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair.” Marinette sighs, finally opening the bottle of paracetamol and downing two with large gulps of water. “Though I am curious.”

“As they say, curiosity killed the cat!” Tikki replies with a giggle.

Face-palming, Marinette groans aloud. “Oh no. He’s rubbing off on you too!”

---

“Girl, I’m surprised you haven’t called me,” Alya tells her, a few days later, when the New Years resolution goals have already lost their momentum. “I figured I’d get a phone call as soon as you got home.”

“What are you talking about, Als? Sorry, hold on.” Marinette pauses, readjusting the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her classes haven’t let back in for the semester, yet she’s trying to get a headstart on pinning a new design she’s working on so she doesn’t fall behind. “Okay, go on. I have my brain screwed in now.”

Things aren’t going according to plan, obviously.

Alya snorts. “With you and Adrien, duh! Do you seriously not remember it? I thought you weren’t plastered.”

“I wasn’t plastered! I guess I was just more tipsy than I thought I was.”

“So, you were drunk?”

“Shut up.”

Letting out another round of laughter, Alya says, “Well, I can fill you in if you’d like. It’s pretty juicy.”

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Marinette groans, rubbing an exasperated hand over her face.

“Oh come on! It’s not even bad! You did pretty well considering the circumstances!”

A pin falls to the floor at Alya’s word, forcing Marinette to tell her friend to hold on again. Three minutes later, she successfully finds the pin that somehow hid under the mannequin stand where she couldn’t see it.

Lucky? Pft. Not Marinette.

“You were saying?” Marinette asks.

Alya fills her in on all of the details rather quickly, from Adrien whisking her away while still being a gentleman about it to them having alone time on the balcony. The story lasts all of a minute, even with Alya’s expertise in story-telling, and it has Marinette’s heart fluttering.

The puzzle pieces start to connect.

“Als, I just remembered what happened on the balcony,” Marinette says, eyes slightly wide.

“Bitch, you better tell me right the fuck now or I’m going to come over to your apartment and sit on you.”

“You say that as if it’s a threat.”

“Marinette!”

Marinette lets out a snort and slaps her knee. She sets the last pin before rolling the mannequin back into its temporary home for the night. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m just playing around, Als!”

“I love you, babe, but you’re killing me here.”

“Sorry,” she replies, though she’s really not.

“.....Marinette?”

“Oh! Right!” Marinette can hear Alya face-palming over the phone. “Well, all I remember is us talking and him telling me that he has to talk to me about something important. I don’t really remember much else but he kissed me on the cheek, Alya.”

Alya squeals—a sound Marinette’s never heard come from her mouth—and a jostling noise comes from her end. “Holy fuck, M! That’s amazing!”

“Right? At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but a cheek kiss is just as good nonetheless!”

“Babe, you were drunk. It’s a good thing he didn’t kiss you. That means he respects you, regardless of whether there’s any feelings or not there.”

Marinette lets out a small laugh, her heart swelling at Alya’s words. “You always know how to make situations better, don’t you?”

“It’s kind of my job,” Alya replies.

“And I love you for it.”

Alya blows a smooch over the phone. “Mwah! Right back at you.” She pauses, then quickly continues, “Oh! Did he say anything when he left your apartment after he dropped you off?”

Wait, what?

Marinette has no recollection of this happening whatsoever. She faintly remembers falling asleep against him—he was just so warm, okay?—but him taking her home? Alya has to be mistaken.

“He took me home? Are you sure? I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, he specifically told Nino and I that he’d take you home and then sent us a picture of you tucked in bed that night to ease my worrying. You know how much of a motherly hen I can be sometimes.”

None of it makes sense. Even if he did take her home that night, why was Chat Noir in her room early in the morning?

Unless…

No. There’s no way. Absolutely no way that she’s been this blind. No way that Marinette’s this lucky.

She’d know if her two favorite people in the world—excluding Alya and Nino—were the same person, right? There’s no way that the miraculous could’ve hidden it that well from her that she wouldn’t have noticed.

Except maybe... It had?

It comes together like whiplash. All of their mannerisms. From the way both Chat and Adrien rub their necks when they’re nervous, or when they make jokes but immediately retract them so as to not hurt the person’s feelings. Both of them having a rough home life and awful dads.

Piercing green eyes that remind Marinete of a home away from home.

It reminds her of those times in collège and lycée when Adrien would disappear and reappear whenever she would. She had attributed it to him being afraid of the akumas and finding somewhere safe to hide that entire time. It’s not like it was her place to judge anyone’s ways to cope with what was happening!

The quirks that the both of them share. Two halves of a whole. They merge together beautifully in her mind, filling a void she hadn’t known existed until now.

Her heart is so, so full.

“Als. I think I just had the world’s biggest revelation,” she breathes out, sounding absolutely lovesick.

“What is it?” Nino’s yelling about something incoherent in the background, and Marinette can just faintly hear Adrien’s voice.

“I think I’m in love with Adrien.” Her stomach flutters at her words.

Alya splutters out a hearty laugh. “Oh, M. We’ve been knew.”

---

Three days. Marinette’s lived with her secret for three whole days and she’s losing it.

She begged off spending time with Alya, Nino, and Adrien to try and gather her thoughts. Adrien being Chat is the best possible outcome for a partner she could’ve ever dreamed of, but she wants to tell him how much he means to her without fumbling over her words too much.

It’ll probably still happen. He is Adrien, for crying out loud.

Earlier, Marinette transformed so she could write some notes down in her compact in case she gets too flustered. Adrien’s nice enough that he won’t judge her for it, so she’s not too worried.

After a quick application of her favorite passion fruit flavor lip gloss, she sets off for their patrol meetup point.

“Tikki, I’m so nervous,” she says.

No response. Yes,. Marinette’s aware that her kwami can’t hear her or speak to her while she’s suited up, yet the hope still lingers for some absurd reason.

Marinette wholeheartedly blames the nerves.

Spotting Chat—Adrien is difficult. He blends into the shadows so easily that Marinette nearly falls off the building when he blinks his eyes open. She’s lucky that he has fast reflexes to catch her by the waist, because with how out of it she’s been today, she might’ve forgotten to use her yo-yo.

“Bug! It’s so nice of you to drop in.”

Oh no. His jokes just make him more attractive. She’s fucked.

Marinette’s hands fall to his biceps, and she’s unsure as to if she wants to tug him closer or push him away at that awful joke that has her heart racing. A look of surprise crosses his face and she squeaks, ducking out of his grip.

“Thanks,” she replies quietly.

“You didn’t make fun of my joke. Are you okay?” Concern etches its way onto his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees his fingers twitch in her direction. He stops himself as soon as he notices, choosing instead to idly twist the ring on his finger.

Taking a deep breath, she places her hand over his restless one. “Relax, kitty. I’m okay. Just nervous, because I have to talk to you about something.”

His eyes widen at her words, lips parting as he exhales a breath. She faintly feels it on her face as he says, “I have something to tell you too. It’s kind of urgent.”

“You can go first, okay? I can wait a little while longer.”

Adrien nods, tilting his head to the side with a cute smile on his face. “How much do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Marinette responds instantly.

It isn’t a lie, either. She genuinely trusts him with her life. Transformed, detransformed, heck, she trusts him blindfolded at this point.

He nods his head at her words and starts towards her, arms outstretched. Even as he scoops her up into his arms, her trust in him is unabated. “Hold onto me tight and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, alright?”

“Alright,” she echoes.

Then, Adrien’s off, running over rooftops at speeds that seem unimaginable when it isn't of her own doing. Her ponytail whips about in the frigid air, Marinette using his neck as a shield from the harsh wind.

She’s thrown back to Glaciator, where she and Adrien spoke about misfortunes and missed opportunities. He ended up showing her a beautiful scene atop a nearby rooftop, as both Ladybug and Marinette. Thinking back, her racing heart should’ve been a sign that her feelings for Chat weren’t platonic, yet it took years of walking on eggshells for one of them to finally crack.

“We’re almost there. You good down there?”

“I’m fine,” she says, laughing into his suit. “This isn’t where I find out you’re going to drop me off a building as a prank, is it?”

He scoffs, softly landing on what she assumes to be another rooftop. “Hardy har har, Bugaboo.”

The sound of a door opening and closing lets her know they’ve arrived—apparently it wasn’t a rooftop—and the temptation to look around is higher than she expected. She waits for his approval, wanting him to trust her as much as she trusts him.

“I’m going to set you down now, okay?”

Marinette nods into his neck, extending her legs so she can place them on the floor as he lowers her. Her arms stay wrapped around his neck, while her eyes continue to stay closed.

“I’m going to step back and then you can look.” Adrien lingers for a brief moment, breath fanning over Marinette’s face.

As he shifts away from her, her arms drop to her sides. Her eyes blink open seconds later and she peers around the bright room a little dazedly.

They’re in her shared apartment with Alya—in her room.

Younger Marinette would be freaking out about having Adrien Agreste in her room.

(Older Marinette isn’t faring much better.)

For some strange reason, Adrien knowing her identity never popped into her head when he said he had to talk to her. She had no clue as to what it could’ve been—especially not that.

“Oh,” Marinette breathes.

“Please don’t be mad,” he rushes out, hands shaking about in front of him in a nervous manner. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I know. And I didn’t mean to find out! I swear! It kind of just happened? I can’t even tell you how I found out unless you’re willing to know my identity too—gosh, I’m going to stop talking now.”

Seeing him so jittery helps to calm the rattling of her heart.

Marinette wordlessly grabs his hand and brings him over to the fluffy rug in the center of her room. She flops on top of it and criss-crosses her legs so he has enough room to do the same opposite her.

He follows, albeit a confused expression lingers on his face.

Their hands stay joined together, a nice weight resting on her knee. The tip of his claw is rubbing small circles into her palm, whether he notices it or not.

“I’m not mad,” she says, the softest of smiles spreading onto her cheeks. “I could never be mad at you, kitty.”

Adrien lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes her hand, her heart flipping at the fond look he gives her. “Good, good.”

They stare at one another for a moment too long, before Marinette murmurs fuck it under her breath and detarnsforms.

His suit is oddly cool against her bare knee, his eyes flickering to their hands then back up to her face. He licks at his lips and breathes out, “Oh.”

“Hi,” she greets, with a small wave of her free hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts out.

Marinette lets out a surprised laugh, red peeking out under the dip of his mask. Her voice is teasing as she says,“Thank you, I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me blush or not.”

“Marinette, please.”

Hearing him say her name has her heart fluttering, and she detangles their hands to push up onto her knees, crawling towards him. She nudges his legs apart so she can fit between them, arms wrapping around his neck. Her cheek presses against his, the cool material of his suit helping to soothe her burning cheeks.

Even with the suit protecting him, she can feel the thumping of his heart against her chest.

“You wanna know my secret?” she asks faintly, as his hands move to settle on her back.

“Yes, tell me.” His claws rest lightly against the fabric of her shirt.

Her nose brushes against the tip of his ear and she feels him shudder. “I think you’re really, really cute, Adrien.”

“Plagg, claws off.” The transformation light has her eyes slipping shut briefly. When she reopens them, Adrien’s sat in front of her with a blinding smile on his face. “Hi.”

For some reason, she’s brought to tears by the situation. She holds them back the best she can. “Hey.”

She’s just so happy.

“I’m so glad it’s you, by the way,” Adrien professes, blinking back his own set of tears. “Like I know I’ve known for a while and all, but this still feels like finding out for the first time.”

“Are you trying to make me cry? You asshole,” she whines, tears sliding down her face.

Before she can reach up and wipe them away on her own, Adrien’s hand is there to do it for her. His touch is so gentle, and instead of returning to its previous position on her back, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m so glad it’s you, Adrien. You mean so much to me. And to know that two of my favorite people are the same person? How could I be so lucky?”

“Two of your favorite people?” His head tilts to the side cutely, his hand idly stroking her jaw.

A blush returns to her face as she replies, “Yeah, I’m shocked you didn’t know, if I’m honest. I was so obvious about it! I’ve liked you as Adrien for so long, and then as soon as I realized that you’re Chat, all of my feelings for Chat were brought to light.”

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmurs, licking at his lips.

“Oh, shut up. Don’t tease me!”

“I’m not teasing you, Mar! You’re just really cute!”

Oh god. Her face hides in his shoulder as she emits a small groan, gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I’m going to pass out if you keep talking about me like this.”

Adrien lets out a laugh that vibrates against her chest. “Well, I don’t want you to pass out, but I need you to know how much I like you.”

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks, face digging into his shoulder.

“Marinette,” Adrien echoes.

Slowly, she raises her head to shoot a pouty look in his direction. “You’re mean.”

“You don’t think I’m mean,” he starts, a devious glint in his eyes. Uh oh. “You like me.”

Marinette’s heart flips as his words, her lip only jutting out further. She tries to maneuver out of his arms, yet he doesn’t budge, his hand rubbing soothing circles against her back. “I take it back.”

“No, you’re not allowed to do that. I will cry again!” He widens his slightly bloodshot eyes to prove his point.

“How did you even find out?” she asks, smoothly changing the subject.

“You told me. At my birthday party. You were drunk, so I sat with you for a while and you started rambling about things that didn’t really make sense—”

“Oh no.”

He sends her a small smile, then says, “Yeah, I hadn’t really believed that you were Ladybug at that point because you were really drunk, yet you mentioned our patrol meeting spot for the week and called ‘Chat’ your annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass and it clicked.”

“That’s it. I’m leaving and never coming back. Why am I so embarrassing? Annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass? I could’ve lived without knowing I said that to you!” Her forehead drops to lean against his cheek.

“It was cute! You’re cute and I like you so much, yeah?” His head turns so he can make eye contact with her, their noises brushing with how close they are to one another.

Marinette really wants to kiss him.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she awaits his response.

“Of course. You really didn’t have to ask, because I’d let you kiss me any day of the week, but I think it’s really nice that you did ask—”

She cuts off his nervous rambling by kissing him, her hand sliding up into his hair at the base of his neck. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest.

He tastes like flavored lip balm, hand moving from the dip of her back to her hip to hold her steady.

He tastes familiar.

It’s weird to think of. She kissed him when Kim became akumatized. According to the picture Alya showed her after hers and Nino’s joint akumatization, they had kissed for whatever reason.

Their almost kisses come to mind and she feels a different type of heat rise on her cheeks.

Marinette pulls back with a groan, nearly squeaking as Adrien follows her blindly to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. He lets her slip out of his arms and shove her face into the carpet, a hand trailing gently over her back.

“Was it that bad?” he jokes, sifting his other hand through her hair.

“No, oh my gosh. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed of! Your lips are really soft! I just thought of how I tried to kiss you when you faked being a statue all those years ago and now I’m embarrassed!”

“You’re the cutest ever,” he says, flopping onto his side to lay next to her. He brushes his lips over the shell of her ear and nudges at her cheek with his nose. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’ve said and done so many things in front of you that could be considered embarrassing, but because it’s you, I don’t care.”

She turns her head and shoots him a look. “You never tried kissing a statue version of me!”

“And I like you even more for that! Look at us, Mar! We’re 18 and 19 respectively, and we’re laying on your fluffy rug around midnight! Everything about this could be considered embarrassing, except it’s not! Because it’s us.”

Adrien’s words only make Marinette more attracted to him at this point.

“We’re allowed to be embarrassing, but only when it’s us?” she asks.

He nods, lips quirking into a big smile. “Yes, exactly. I won’t be embarrassing with anyone else but you. You’re my embarrassing person, Marinette.”

“My heart shouldn’t be fluttering at you calling us embarrassing,” she whines, laying her hand on his chest.

“Embarrassingly in love idiots?” he whispers, finding her hand to tangle their fingers together so he can bring them up to his lips and brush his mouth over the back of her hand.

Marinette exhales a quiet laugh and says, “Very embarrassingly in love.”

They fall asleep like that, his arm wrapped around her waist while she lays her head on his chest, breaths mingling together.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in ages.

---

Marinette’s phone buzzing wakes her up the next morning.

She fumbles around for the device, letting out a small aha as her fingers grip the electronic. It’s hard for her to open her and stare at the small screen, yet when she notices it’s a message from Adrien, her eyes snap open.

Wait, when did she get in her own bed?

Quickly opening the message, she reads it with increasing vigor as the message goes on.

Adrien: Hey, Mar. I couldn’t stay long after you fell asleep because I had a photoshoot this morning and you looked so cute that I didn’t want to wake you. I feel like I did a poor job at letting you know how I felt yesterday, so I’m going to say it here so it’s clear and you know, okay? (Don’t judge me!!!)

I like you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You have such amazing qualities that I admire and adore. You’re a leader who isn’t afraid to stick up for what she believes in, whether you’re in the suit or out of it! You make the world a better place just by being you. I couldn’t think of a better person being Ladybug, and it makes me so happy that it’s you.

I’d love to get to know you more. I think we both know that we click really well at this point, but I want to do this right with you. We’re a team, Bug. You and me. So, what do you say?

Her hand groggily slaps the call button, wiping back a few tears that slide down her cheeks from his works.

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hey, Mar. Did you get my message—”

“You stupid cat! I’m sitting here at eight in the morning crying because of you! I loved every second of it.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “So does that mean it’s a yes?”

“We should go to the museum and reenact our statue scene as our date,” Marinette suggests, a large grin making its way onto her face.

Adrien nearly chokes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way, little bug.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug #adrienette #ladynoir #i don't know whether to tag theo thers so ill just kepe it at them OKKOHGDKAOYERAO #IHOPE U LIKE IT EMSY I LOVE U

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blackhakumen · 3 years

Text

Mini Fanfic #658: Home At Last (Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney)

3:43 p.m. at the Los Angeles' Airport......

Apollo: (Takes a Deep Breath Before Smiling Softly) I'm back home.

Ema: (Making her Way Beside Apollo) Feels good, doesn't it?

Apollo: Yeah. I know it's been two and a half years since we were both was gone, but it almost feels like an eternity.

Ema: ('Sigh') Tell me about it. But at least we still managed to make it through to the end. (Gives Apollo a Playful Smirk) I bet you been dying to see a certain fireball after all this time, am I right?~

Apollo: (Smirks Back at his Friend) Like how you've been dying to see a certain "Fop" again?~

Ema: (Eyes Widened and Blushes Before Looking Away From in a bit of a Pouty Fashion) Don't sass me, Justice.

Apollo: (Shrugged Sheepishly) Hey, you're the one who taught me to be this way.

Ema: Which is already proven to be a huge mistake....

Apollo: (Chuckles Lightly) Okay. Okay. I kid. (Smiles Softly) Really. I'm just.... really glad you were you in Khura'in with me. I know you have your own reasons of being there and all, but.... it was great having you around.

Ema: (Turns Back to Apollo with a Soft Smile) I'm glad too, Apollo. Back when I was assigned to come to the town, I immediately thought it would life sucking and boring, but you being there somehow made it worth while. So I thank you for that.

Apollo: It's no probl-

??????: (From a Distance) APOLLLOOO!!!

Ema: (Recognizes a Very Familiar Face From Afar) Back on the topic of your fireball....(Points at a Far Distance) Isn't that her over?

Apollo: Huh? (Place his Hand on top of his Forehead, in a Salute Like Fashion, and Takes a Look From a Distance) Athena? S-She's already here?

Ema: From the sound of her voice she is. But I can't exactly tell from a these people in the far back.

Apollo: I'll try something....(Bring his Other Hand, With his Truly Bracelet On, in the Air and Starts Waving it Around)

Meanwhile From a Distance.......

Athena: (Noticed a Hand with a Very Familiar Gold Bracelet, Waving at her From a Far Distance) ('GASPS') APOOOOLLLLLLOOO!!!~ (Quickly Made her Way to the Waving Hand)

Back to Apollo and Ema.......

Apollo: (Noticed Someone with Orange Hair Making her Way to the Duo While Continuing Waving his Hand) Someone's coming.....(Gasps at a Familiar Face From Afar) I think that's her!

Ema: If you're certain, then go to her. I'll catch up eventually.

Apollo: (Nodded) Right! (Quickly Make his Way to his Fireball Tiger) ATHEEEENAAAA!!!!

Athena: APOOOOLLLLLLOOO!!!!

Apollo: ATHEEEEEENNNNNAAA!!!!

And with that, the two defense lawyers from both sides, ran as fast as they could to make it to each other's arms, after their two and half years of long distance relationship has finally come to a close. It was a romantic, touching moment in the eyes of most people who are witnessing the scene, as the couple almost close to one another. That is until......

?????: (Immediately Manage to Rush Place Athena) Oh Polly!~ (Hug Tackles Apollo Into the Ground)

'Thud'

Apollo: (Wince in Pain from the Sudden Hug Tackle) What in the- Huh? (Noticed Another Familiar Face Hugging Him to Deal Life) Trucy? Is that really you?

Trucy: (Looks Up at Apollo with Tears in her Eyes) POLLLYYYYYYYYY!~

Athena: (Glares at Trucy) Damnit, Trucy! I thought we agreed that I would hug him first!!

Trucy: (Glares Back at Athena While Still Hugging Apollo) Well, I'm sorry that I couldn't help myself! You know how much I missed my big brother!!

Athena: Yeah? Well, I missed him a lot more than you think! So I have every right to hug him first!

Trucy: Well, I disagree!!

Athena: And why's that!?

Trucy: FAMILY PRIVILEGES!!!!

Apollo: GIRLS!!!

Athena/Trucy: (Turn Their Attention on Apollo) Yes, 'hon/Polly?

Apollo: ('Sigh') Calm down, will ya? You're making a scene with your screaming already? (Turns to Trucy) Truce, could you please let Athena hug me next? I know it's too much to ask, but she has been searching for me first.

Trucy: (Pouts at Apollo For a Few Seconds Before Finally Letting Go of Him) Okayyyyy....(Gets Up From the Ground) You two can hug now....(Points at Apollo in a Determined Manner) But you owe me a lot of cuddles, mister! Better not have any plans after this, cause we're having ourselves a Cuddle Party once we get back home!!!

Apollo: (Chuckles Lightly While Getting Up Himself) I can't wait. (Gives Trucy a Kiss on the Forehead) I missed you.

Trucy: (Gives One Last Hug to Apollo for the Time Being) I missed you too, Polly. (Gives her Big Brother a Big Kiss on the Cheek Before Finally Letting Go of Him)

Apollo: (Spread his Arms Wide Open) Okay, Tiger! I'm ready whenever you- (Immediately Gets Pulled into a Tight, Yet Loving Hug from his Girlfriend) ARE!!... ('Heh') S-Someone has gotten herself stronger as of late...

Athena: (Gives Apollo a Playful Smirk on her Face) And you've gotten a lot more handsome the last time I saw you~

Apollo: You really think so?

Athena: (Happily Nodded) Definitely. It makes me love you even more~ (Gives Apollo a Passionate Kiss on the Lips) ('Mmwaaah') Welcome back home, Polly~

Apollo: (Smiles Softly) It's good to be back, Tiger~ (Kiss Athena Back on the Lips)

Trucy: (Smiles Softly While Staring at the Couple Kissing One Another) ('Sigh') I love those dorks.....

???: It hasn't even been an hour yet and those two are already smacking each other's lips?

Trucy: (Gasps Once She Turns and Sees a Very Familiar Face) Ema! (Rushes Over and Gives Ema a Hug) It's been so long!

Ema: (Chuckles Lightly) Hey there, Truce. (Ruffles the top of her Hair) You've grown a bit since the last time I saw you.

Trucy: (Giggles Softly) Yep!~ Were you able to take care of Polly just like I asked?

Ema: (Rolled Yes, Truce. Your Polly has been taken care of. I made sure he doesn't over work himself like usual.

Trucy: Thank you.

Ema: No prob- (Noticed Someone Covered her Eyes) lem. ('Sigh') Okay.

??????: Guess who?~

Ema: (Already Figured Out the Voice Behind Her) Let me guess.... It is a certain "Fop" I need to kick in the ass?

Klavier: (Chuckles Lightly Before Pulling his Hands Away From Ema's Eyes) My~ (Made his Way in Front of Ema) You're detective skills have certainly improved a lot as of late, Fraulein~ What's your secret?

Ema: (Shrugged) Eh. Your voice is too hard to forget really. (Slowly Starts to Smile Softly) Still...(Hugs Klavier a bit Lovingly) It's really great to see you again, Klavier.

Klavier: (Happily Hugs his Girlfriend Back) Likewise, my dear~ Your as beautiful and lovely as ever~

Ema: (Smirks Playfully) And you're even more of a Fop than I remembered~

Klavier: (Chuckles Lightly) I missed your blantent sense of humor~

Apollo: Klavier, is that you?

Klavier: (Turns to see Apollo Staring at Him) Ah, Herr Forehead! (Places his Arm Around Apollo's Shoulder) It has been so long, my friend.

Apollo: (Chuckles Lightly) Same. Seems like you haven't changed a bit the last time I saw you.

Klavier: I can say the same about you. You haven't over work yourself during your time at Khura'in, have you?

Apollo: (Rolled his Eyes) No, I haven't. I was able take some breaks every now and then..... Mostly due to your girlfriend keep chewing my ear off to do so.

Ema: (Glares at Apollo) I can hear you loud and clear, Justice. Your physical and psychological health are a lot more important than you could ever realize. Plus, your sister and girlfriend would literally kill me if I didn't make sure you get yourself some R&R.

Athena: Yeah. We would actually.

Trucy: (Proudly Nodded)

?????: 'Eyyyyy, Justice! It's been a long time, my guy!

Apollo: (Smiles Brightly at Yet Another Familiar Face Making his Way to him and the Gang) Wocky! How's it go-

Trucy: (Smiles Brightly) Wocky!~ (Makes her Way to Wocky and Hugs Him) You finally made it!~ The traffic didn't cause you too much trouble, did it?

Apollo: (Starts Getting Very Confused on What's He's Looking at Right Now) Wait. W-What's happening here?

Athena: (Starts Looking Away in Nervousness While Twiddling her Fingers)

Klavier: (Chuckles a Tad Bit Nervously While Having his Hand on the Back of his Head)

Wocky: (Starts Blushing While Smiling Brightly) Nah. I was able to manage through. Why? You were worried about me?

Trucy: (Happily Nodded) Mmhmm. I just didn't want anything bad to happen to you on the road, Wocky-Kins~

Apollo/Ema: (Eyes Widened) Wocky-Kins?!

Wocky: (Chuckles Lightly) C'mon, Truce~ You know I wouldn't let myself get hurt that easily. I ain't the heir of my fam's name for nothing, ya know?

Trucy: (Pouts at Wocky) That maybe so, but your safety is still important to me!~ (Gives Wocky a Kiss on the Cheek) I love you~

Wocky: (Blush Turns Bright Red) T-Thanks!~ I-I-I love you too, Truce-

Apollo: Alright! HOLD THE PHONE RIGHT NOW!! (Makes his Way to the Duo) Trucy, Wocky, what is going on here?

Ema: Yeah. What's with the hugging and the cute pet names and the kids on the-(Eyes Begins to Widened) Wait.......(Starts Looking at Both Wocky and Trucy Back and Forth BeforeShe Sudden Dropped her Bag) OH SHIT! Ohh shit! (Burst Out Laughing While Having her Hands on Apollo's Shoulder for a Couple of Seconds) Oho shit! NO! No! That is NOT happening right now! NO!!

Apollo: Okay. I'm completely loss right now.

Trucy: Now, Polly, I know this might come as a shock to you, but....The truth of the matter is that-

Ema: WOCKY'S BEEN DATING YOUR FREAKING SISTER DUDE!!!!

Apollo: (Eyes Widened at Wocky in Complete Shock) YOU'RE DATING MY SISTER!!!?

Ema: (Begins to Laugh Even Louder) AHHHHAHAAHAHAHAHAH!~

Wocky: Uhhh....(Smiles Very Awkwardly) Surprise.....

Apollo: (Slowly Starts To Glare at the Poor Man) How long?

Wocky: What?

Apollo: How long have you two been dating?

Wocky: Uhhh...Months?

Apollo: ......................

Wocky: ('Sighs in Defeat') Over a year.....

Ema: (Dancing Around While Mock Singing) Wocky's been dating your sister!~ Wocky's been dating your sister!~ (Immediately Turns to Athena and Klavier's Obvious Guilty Faces) Oh! And you two fuckers knew about it this entire time, haven't you!?~

Apollo: (Slowly Turns to.the Duo as Well) What?

Klavier: (Shrugged While Chuckling Awkwardly) Guilty as charged.

Athena: Sorry, 'hon.

Apollo: (Sighs Before Turning Back to Wocky and Trucy) Well, you two.....What you gotta say for yourselves?

Trucy: Wellllllll.....(Giggles a bit Awkwardly) Funny story actually. You see uhh.... ATHENA!! CARRY YOUR MAN!!

Athena: (Nodded) On it!

Apollo: Wait. WHAAAAAAHHHH! (Immediately Gets Bridal Carried by Athena) Athena!?

Athena: (Carries Apollo in her Arms) Sorry, Pollo. It has to be done! (Turns to Trucy and Wocky) RUNNNNN!

Trucy: (Grabs Wocky's Hand and Starts Running) Come on, Wocky!

Wocky: Uhh okay! (Follows his Girlfriend Before Turning to Apollo) Sorry, man!!!

Apollo: (Yells at the Newly Couple) STOP!! I JUST WANNA TALK TO YOU GUY!!!

Trucy: (Already in a Distance) I'M SORRY, POLLY! I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING WENT I GET BACK HOME!!! BYEEEE!~

Apollo: ('Groans') TRUCY!!! (Turns to Athena) Athena, let go of me!

Athena: (Immediately Shook her Head No can do, babe. I can't let you chase them around like a madman.

Apollo: I wasn't gonna chase them down! I was gonna to talk to them like proper adults!

Athena: (Raised an at Apollo) Were you really?

Widget: DON'T. LIE, APOLLO!

Apollo: ('Sighs in Defeat') Noooo...I wasn't.....

Athena: Thought so. ('Sigh') Look, I know the news itself was shocking and all, but I promise you that Trucy and I are going to explain ourselves once we get back to.the office, okay?

Apollo: ('Sigh') Yeah. Okay. Can you.....let me down now or....

Athena: Noooope. I'm still gonna carry you.

Apollo: What? Why? I'm not gonna chase after them or anything.

Athena: (Smiles Brightly) I know you won't. I just missed carrying you like this. (Gives Apollo a Seductive Smirk on her Face) And I am not gonna ruin this golden opportunity, Polly~ (Begins to Kiss Apollo's Cheeks Repeatedly)

Apollo: (Immediately Starts Blushing) Athenaaa!~ You're already embarrassing me in front of my apparent friends....

Athena: Let 'em stare. (Starts Walking While Carrying Apollo in her Arms) I don't give a damn either way~

Apollo: I swear you're impossible sometimes.....

Athena: Love you too, honey~ ('Mmwaaah')

Apollo: (From a Distance) 'Thenaaa!~

Klavier: (Chuckles Lightly) Those two never fail to amuse me. (Turns to Ema) You're enjoying the show, Fraulein?

Ema: (Chuckles Lightly) Oho you...have no idea right now. This is the best thing I've watched since forever!

Klavier: I can tell~ And I'm guessing you're still not over the whole "Wocky dating Trucy" fiasco, haven't you?

Ema: (Puts on an Evil Smirk on her Face) Oh hell no. We are gonna have ourselves a conversation with that boy once we get back home.

Klavier: (Smiles Brightly) Can't wait.

@apollo-justice-for-all

@keyenuta

@cyber-wildcat

@italian-love-cake

@26shann

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

#ace attorney #apollo justice #ema skye #athena cykes #klavier gavin #trucy wright #wocky kitaki #reuion #takes place two years and a half after spirit of justice #humor #sweet family moment #lots and lots of fluff here #justicykes #klavier x ema #trucy x wocky #21 jump street reference #have to edited it again to make it perfect. sorry about that

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years

Text

Day Three: Family

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Summary: A chance meeting with Klavier Gavin pushes Phoenix to invite the younger man to the company Christmas party. After all, no one should be alone for the holidays...not even a prosecutor.

* * *

Snow was starting to fall as Phoenix Wright climbed the steps to the front of the prison, bottle of wine under one arm. He still didn't quite understand how his old friend had gotten to keep so many amenities in his cell, but that didn't really matter...Kristoph Gavin would be behind bars for the rest of his life.

He reached for the handle to the front door, only to jerk back when the door swung inward without his touch. For just a moment Phoenix stared, almost sure he was seeing Kristoph here in person, only for the slight difference in the man in front of him to sink in—hair and skin a shade darker, fewer lines in his face, dressed in an elaborate jacket that Kristoph would never have been seen dead in.

For his part, Klavier Gavin looked just as startled to see Phoenix. He recovered quickly, nodded his head to the defense attorney, then turned to the side to slip past him.

Phoenix adjusted his coat and ran one hand through his spiky hair. He didn't hold anything against the young prosecutor—they'd both been deceived by Kristoph all those years ago. It was just still awkward, sometimes, now that they were working in the same city again.

“Are you going to see my brother, Herr Wright?”

He paused and glanced back over his shoulder to find Klavier looking up at him from a few steps down. He had his hands jammed in his pockets, and was staring at the bottle tucked under Phoenix's arm.

“He's still allowed visitors, isn't he?” Phoenix asked. Damn, he hadn't even thought to check...just assumed.

Klavier made a face and crossed his arms over his chest. “He won't see anyone.”

Phoenix let the door close and studied the younger man for a moment. “Anyone?”

“Not even me...not even his family.”

Blowing out a sigh, Phoenix leaned back against the railing that ran up the center of the prison's front steps. “Do you know why?”

Klavier's eyes met his briefly before looking away. He was uncharacteristically subdued, with no sign of the flamboyant prosecutor that had made Apollo's first cases so challenging. “He says he doesn't want pity.”

“Pity?” Phoenix frowned. He could imagine Kristoph saying something like that, but there was no way Klavier would actually act that way. From everything Phoenix had heard the younger Gavin still held his older brother in high regard—Kristoph had practically raised him, after all.

“It's his way,” Klavier shrugged.

Phoenix shifted away from the railing and took the few steps to be closer to the young prosecutor. “Are you all right, Klavier?”

Klavier shrugged again. He met Phoenix's eyes for another brief second before looking out over the empty steps and blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “He's all I have, Herr Wright. He's never...I didn't want it to be like this.”

With a grimace, Phoenix looked away. It was hard...they'd both been deceived by Kristoph, and they'd both had a hand in making sure he stayed behind bars for good. And while that had been the first steps for Phoenix getting his life back after losing his attorney's license, it had been one final loss on top of a year of losses for Klavier.

“Hey,” he grabbed Klavier's arm as the younger man was turning to leave. “We're, uh...we're having a party. At the office. You should come.”

Klavier stared at him with raised eyebrows. “With Herr Forehead and all the little frauleins? I'm not so sure I'd be welcome.”

“It's not like that,” Phoenix scoffed.

“And what is it like?” Klavier challenged. “Hmm? My brother won't accept your pity so you try to force it on me?”

“This isn't pity!” Phoenix dropped the wine, not caring if the bottle shattered on the ground, and took Klavier's other arm to force the younger man to face him. “This isn't about pity, Klavier. This is about friendship. About family. About being together to...to celebrate what we do have.”

Klavier's head was lowered and his shoulders slumped in Phoenix's grasp. “Herr Wright...”

“You know Apollo and Athena respect you. Hell, Trucy asks about you all the time...and it's not just us who'll be there, Edgeworth's coming.”

Edgeworth. High Prosecutor Edgeworth. Klavier almost perked up at that, glancing up at Phoenix through his bangs.

Encouraged, Phoenix went on. “I invited a few old friends from the police force, and Athena's bringing a couple of students she's tutoring. Maya and Pearl are coming...Larry will probably show up whether I invite him or not...” He knew Klavier didn't know half these people, but something about the thought of the young prosecutor spending the holiday season alone was just unbearable.

Impulsively, Phoenix pulled Klavier into an embrace, right on the steps of the prison. “You're not alone,” he murmured. “You've still got us, Klavier. I know it's not the same, but...please. You've got us.”

Klavier froze for a moment, then his arms came up to wrap around Phoenix. God, when was the last time someone had hugged this kid? “Danke, Herr Wright. I'll try.”

* * *

Larry had finally given up on trying to spike the punch and was by the table with Maya, engaged in an all-out competition to see who could make the most disgusting plate of meatballs. So far Maya was in the lead, Phoenix thought, with her creative use of wasabi and chocolate syrup, but Larry had downed that like a champ and was creating an abomination with tartar sauce, whipped cream, and a jar of pickled onions he'd dug up somewhere.

A knock on the door pulled Phoenix out of his conversation with Edgeworth, and when he opened it he was pleasantly surprised to find Klavier on the other side, holding up a box from the bakery like a peace offering.

“Herr Wright,” Klavier began, hesitantly, but a squeal from behind Phoenix had the older man jumping out of the way.

“You came!” Trucy yelled. She wrapped her hands around Klavier's forearm and tugged him into the room. “We've been waiting—why are you late? I need you on my team for trivia, Athena and her kids are trouncing us and Polly's no good with anything other than nerd stuff!”

There was a protesting “Hey!” from the corner where Pearl was presiding over a game of trivia (currently Trucy and Apollo vs Athena and her students).

“Trucy, let the man take off his coat first,” Phoenix complained as he rescued the bakery box before Trucy's enthusiasm sent it crumbling to the floor.

“Never!” Trucy shouted. “Take no prisoners!”

“But you're taking one now!”

“Never!”

Phoenix dropped the box on the table, wincing as Larry immediately dived into it for an eclair to add to the monstrosity he was about to force-feed Maya, and chased after Trucy and Klavier. “Klavier, quick! I'll distract her and you can run!”

Klavier was already laughing, and he simply shrugged out of his coat as Trucy shoved him down to sit next to Apollo. “No, no, the fraulein's honor must be avenged.”

“Yes! Take that, Athena! We're here for vengeance!”

Phoenix held his hands up in surrender and picked up the prosecutor's coat to drape over the back of the couch with the other winter jackets and retreated.

“I didn't realize your parties would be so...enthusiastic, Wright,” Edgeworth observed when Phoenix returned. His expression was carefully controlled as usually, though a muscle in his cheek was twitching as he watched Maya take a big bite of Larry's disgusting meatball-and-eclair combination.

“Yeah, well,” Phoenix shrugged. “Sometimes family's like that.”

Edgeworth snorted, though Phoenix was pretty sure that was just to cover a gag as Maya swallowed down the last bite of Larry's creation. “Indeed.”

Phoenix smiled, looking from where Maya was triumphantly pulling a jar of Vegemite out of her pocket (to Larry's horror) to where Trucy was pumping both hands in the air in victory at Klavier's first correct trivia answer. “Yes, indeed.”

* * *

(The Ace Attorney series is the second of my top three video game series that I’m writing for. There was some headcanon here, but I hope you enjoyed it!)

Next Time: Warmth - “Yes, of course. Because a cold nose to the jugular is such a renowned aphrodisiac.”

* * *

Day Two - Master List - Day Four

#ace attorney #fanfic #phoenix wright #klavier gavin #trucy wright #miles edgeworth #kristoph gavin (mentioned)#Christmas #friendship #post-dual destinies #angst #klavier needs a hug #twelve days of fictmas 2020

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read into Me Chapter 10: That Mad Ache

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,266

Warnings: ANGST FRIENDS THIS ONES NOT FUN

Series Tag: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @a-big-ball-of-idk @asharpkniffe @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @boredoomfm @voidnarnia @the-passionate-freak @awkwardnesshabitat @darkcrystal-wolf @hannahrisacher

You didn’t exactly know where you were going, but you didn’t care. You had the windows rolled down, Elton John crooning on the radio, and your bare feet up on the seat. Steve had taken off his tie and jacket, popping open the top three buttons on his dress shirt. His hair was blowing in the breeze and you could see his chest hair peeking out from under the thin material of his shirt. He looked hot. You were drunk on adrenaline and you felt like kissing him. You were hyperaware of your lips, of his. You almost reached over to kiss him. But you didn’t.

“Where are we going?” you called over the wind in your ears.

Steve turned and looked at you with a cheeky grin. He’d pulled in around the community pool, long closed. “You wanna go swimming?” he asked.

“Won’t we get caught?” you asked. You didn’t bother to mention your lack of swimwear. You weren’t naïve as to what he was suggesting and you weren’t uninterested in the idea.

“Nah, the cops are more interested in stopping teen drinking after the dance ends than sneaking into the pool.” Steve replied with a shrug, parking the car at the farthest end of the lot, under a heavy looking evergreen. You nodded, popping the door open. Steve grinned, following you as you made your way into the pool. As expected, the back gate was locked with a heavy padlock and chain, but the fence was easily jumped, barely seven feet tall, Steve barely had to climbed to reach the top and then up and over. The fence was a bit taller than you compared to Steve, but you hooked your bare feet into the latticed metal and heaved yourself up, pausing briefly at the top to take in a heavy breath before throwing your other leg over the top and shimmied down.

The pavement below was dry and harsh, long dried out from last summer. Hawkins still couldn’t be bothered to install an automated cover for the pool, draining it in the winter and leaving it uncovered for the rest of the year. It was a costly cheap fix, but it came in handy now. The long plastic line lanes had been pulled out and roped up on large barrels near the clubhouse and the lights along the pool walls turned the water ominously yellow along the edges. The lights above the pool had been turned off, but the street lamps along the road and in the parking lot lit up the area enough to see.

Steve swallowed hard. The woods were too close. He didn’t like darkness that loomed there; the unknown had too many options now. Those damned dogs could still be out there. He hadn’t seen where they’d gone. They’d all just run off. He hadn’t seen one since but on the nights where he couldn’t sleep he’d sit and watch out his windows to try to spot anything in those woods. He didn’t like the way the trees moved in the wind, especially with bleary, sleep deprived eyes. Now he was a bit too close. Cold sweat pricked his skin.

You reached behind your back and pulled down the zipper of your dress. You felt self conscious of yourself. You’d never stripped for a man, even really around a man. Still, you’d decided to do it. You pushed off the straps of your dress, letting it slip off your body and fall to the pavement below you. You dove into the water, icy cold on your skin.

Steve heard the splash. He whipped around, looking for a demo-dog about to strike. He didn’t know if they could swim and he didn’t want to find out. Instead he saw you burst through the water, your hair wet and slicked to your skull. Your makeup had smeared and your lips slightly blue. “You coming?” you asked, gasping for air to fill your cold body. Steve swallowed hard, nodding quickly. He kicked off his dress pants and unbuttoned his dress shirt. He jumped in fast, putting his focus on the beautiful, nearly naked girl in the water with him. In the back of his mind, he was wired. It wasn’t so much a fight or flight but more a protective urge. If anything happened, he’d made up his mind that he’d protect you over himself. He’d done it before for those kids, he’d do it again.

He burst out of the water in front of you with a splash. You laughed loudly, tipping your head back. Steve shook his head wildly, his hair flicking water over your face and neck. You squealed, pushing him away, swimming off to the other side of the pool.

“Aw come on, I thought you liked it wet,” he joked, swimming after you.

“Oh I do,” you started, turning to move away from the wall. Steve trapped you between his arms.

“Oh yeah? Tell me more…” he drawled. Moonlight was caught in your eyes. Or maybe that was street lights. It didn’t really matter; he could spend the rest of his life drinking you in.

You demurred, turning your head away from him. You ran a hand through your soaked hair. “Isn’t that a bit vain?” you asked.

“Sue me…” Steve chuckled, lowering his head to watch you carefully.

You conceded, leaning your elbows against the edge of the pool to hold yourself up. “I like your hair, wet or dry…I like your eyes and your smile…and…” you paused, humming slightly to mull over whether or not you should you should admit. “I like your arms.” You said simply, almost decidedly.

“My arms?” Steve was bemused. He expected to be flattered, and he was, but he didn’t expect a mention to his arms.

“Yeah, they’re strong and warm, I find them endlessly comforting.” You shrugged, reaching out a hand to caress his wrist gently. Your fingers had pruned, but your touch was warm, it sent tingles up his spine. You lifted his hand off the pool side, swimming under it and across the pool.

Steve turned to watch you go past. “And I like…” he said in a sing-song tone, putting his finger to his chin and cocking his head to the side.

“Oh no, I don’t really need to-” you started, holding up your hands defensibly.

“I like your laugh,” Steve said, cutting you off. “And your hands, even though they’re always covered in grey smudges, because you can make beautiful things with them. And I like eyes. You have nice eyes.”

You felt yourself colour. You didn’t know how to handle compliments, you didn’t get them often enough to be used to them. “Thank you…” you murmured. Steve once again trapped you. He felt warm against your skin, dizzying delicious. You wanted to stay there forever, but your mind screamed at you to run. His mouth hovered over yours, inching closer to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut. You wanted so badly to kiss him.

Instead, you pressed a hand to his bare chest, pushing him back. “Steve, wait,” you began.

Steve’s heart dropped “I thought…”

“I know, but I can’t, I haven’t told you yet…” your heart was breaking in your chest. You didn’t think this would be as difficult as this. You hadn’t expected everything to be so perfect.

“Told me what?” Steve narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know what you were about to say, but he didn’t like it. He’d already dealt with Nancy sneaking around with Jonathan Byers behind his back; he didn’t want to be made a fool again.

“I’m…leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving Hawkins.” You sighed, pushing yourself onto the edge of the pool, letting the cold bitter night air sting your skin. “I’m meeting my mother in Paris. I’ve applied to the city’s school of the arts.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t imagined you going anywhere. You pressed on to fill the gap. “I don’t really know when I’ll be back here, it’ll all depend on if I get into the school and so I don’t want to lead you on or start something here when I’m leaving so soon.” You explained awkwardly.

“When are you leaving?” Steve managed to ask, swallowing hard.

“Right after graduation,” you said. Steve groaned loudly, an anguished cry. “I wanted to leave the first week of June but a part of the application process is working for a month in this sort of salon. It’s not like teaching its showing what you can do in real time. I have to leave right after exams and graduation to get there in time.”

The sound of a car speeding past drew in both your attention. You both became hyperaware that you were trespassing on city property. “We should go.” Steve said coldly, heaving himself out of the pool. You grabbed your dress off the pavement. Steve followed suit with his own dress clothes, pulling his dress shirt over his wet skin. You both hopped the fence again, walking in silence to his car. You felt distressingly naked compared to Steve, who was pulling back on his pants. Instead of going to the driver’s side to unlock the car, he popped the trunk and pulled out an oil marked Hawkins High sweatshirt from under the bat. He tossed it at your head and shut the trunk.

“Thank you…” you muttered, placing your dress on the roof of his car and pulled on the sweatshirt greedily. You drank in the warmth of the material, blocking out the cold air on your arms and chest. Steve unlocked his door and reached inside to pop the lock on your side. You pulled open your door and grabbed your dress, tossing it onto the floor of the car. You stepped in, shutting out the night as Steve started up the car.

You drove in silence for awhile. Then, Steve spoke “So, how long have you known?” he asked.

“A couple weeks, around the same time you asked me to prom.” You replied. Steve nodded, turning his attention back to the road. You could’ve cut the tension with a butter knife. “Do you hate me?” you asked.

Steve sighed “No, I don’t think I could hate you. But I wish you told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to ruin prom…” you turned your attention to the window “And I didn’t think you liked me back…”

“So you’re just gone after this?” Steve asked, turning down your shared street. You silently wished he’d acknowledged your feelings. That’s he’d even look at you. You his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead and his mouth pulled into a tight, thin line.

“I might be,” you turned to look at Steve fully “If I get in, then I’ll have the option to go for their four year program. But if I don’t get in, I’ll be back by early July.”

“And if you get in?” Steve turned into his own driveway, turning off the engine but not moving.

“Then I’d come home for Christmas...” that wasn’t a certain thing, your mother didn’t come home for the holiday and with assignments you weren’t certain you’d be back either, but setting a time frame for your homecoming made the whole thing feel more certain.

Steve nodded again. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, not really looking at you, more the skyline behind your head. He was upset to say the least. Not necessarily at you, he understood why you hadn’t told him, but a bit of resentment harboured in the pit of his stomach. You were about to get out of this shit hole, to go on an adventure of your own. And he hadn’t even gotten into college. He was stuck here. He hated the universe for fucking with him, for showing him a new start and then taking it away.

“Steve,” you reached for the door. You needed to both be there with him and hidden away in your room. “Ask me to stay and I will.”

Steve turned to look at you. He saw the fear in your eyes, how pale you’d gone. You looked terrified and he was certain that it wasn’t of him. “Ask me and I will.” You repeated, nodding your head slightly.

Steve wanted desperately to say yes. To have you stay with him for the summer. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair. “No,” he breathed “I can’t do that, Y/N.”

“Yes you can, I’m telling you that you can.” You sounded desperate. You felt desperate. Every part of you was begging to stay exactly where you were. For the first time in your life, things were starting to turn up for you. Before now, you could’ve left everything behind easily. Now everything was more complicated. You were scared of the future, of what lay ahead in France. Steve was a way out, an escape from the change already set into motion. Your mother would understand she’d given up on so many things for men; her modelling career for your father, a second chance on it for an ex-fiancé, photo shoots and interviewers with designers for various flings. You giving up a chance at art school for Steve felt okay.

“No, no you have to go. You’re too good to not try this.” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb before turning away from you. Your heart broke, your hopes shattered on the floor at your feet. You bundled up your things from the floor and pushed the door open. Blue tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t be around him now.

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peakatseven · 3 years

Note

MICHAAAA CONGRATULATIONS

🌕 broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

andddd

🎸 haunted

this bitch really came for me asking for a story AND a cover of such a hard song to sing. okay thanks i guess.

nah im just kidding babe i had so much fun writing this! i feel like it’s the first time in years that i’m posting proper fanfiction? kind of? idk i was trying to find another name for the mc but i kept picturing frat boy harry so here we go:

Concentration is impossible when the silence is loud and the work is important. The worst part is when one starts thinking about the need of being concentrated, rather than the actual work that needs to be done. As a university student, Harry was no different than most: his anxiety about school and his future co-existed with the emotional backlash of relationships and the need to "experience the best years of your life". There were few people with whom he wouldn't worry about meeting some kind of expectation. But she had been silent with him for the better part of a year. Images of Caro kept coming back to him, a trauma he couldn't let go off. Granted, it was the one painful brake up he'd experienced, one that was never truly over. Even now, uncountable names in between him and her, he still couldn't get her blue eyes off of his mind. The thought of her porcelain skin over his sun-kissed body came to him every single one of his one-night-stands. And at that moment, sitting on his desk, trying to get his homework done, the memory of her laughter drowned every sentence he tried to compose. He forced everything out with a loud grunt, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling on his hair. "The results show that 73.3% of patients responded positively to the treatment." He voiced out loud, trying to silence Caro's laughter in his mind. "No, that's bullshit." After a few moments staring at the cursor beeping at the end of his last sentence, he finally shut the laptop down. On an impulse, he unlocked his phone and opened a conversation from three days prior. He should've answered it when he got the text, but he wasn't in the mood at the time. "Hey, babe, wanna go for a beer rn?" He wasn't even done changing when the phone buzzed on the table. Two happy emojis popped up, and then a "Meet you there in 10". He kept the speed up as he rode off campus, through a park and then into the city. He was glad for the chill air against his face, numbing it to the point where it was the only thing he was able to think about. Finally some peace of mind. It wasn't dark yet when he got to the bar, but the sun had already set behind the buildings. There was one single tree, barely taller than him but strong enough to hold his bike. As he secured it, a red leaf fell to his knee. It was autumn when he got to kiss Caro for the first time, and it was also autumn when he kissed her last. "Nope. Something else, think of something else." he thought to himself. Incapable of coming up with anything, he brought out a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Somewhere inside him, there was a bit of guilt about what he was trying to do. But it'd been so long since he started that it no longer bothered him. His new game was called Darren. The younger guy looked like a model, straight silver hair and pale skin that Harry couldn't wait to leave marks on. All he could think about when Darren was around was the things he wanted to do to him. It was purely sensual, and that was pretty clear from the start. Or at least that's what he told himself. That Darren was on the same page as him- no strings attached, just fun and games. But the way his phone had been buzzing ever since he got on the bike, there was clearly more interest from one side. But instead of doing the right thing, and not stringing him along, Harry was about to sleep with him again and leave with a lame excuse to not spend the night. And then it was back to emotionless texts, conversations on the verge of ghosting him just in case he'd be in the mood again. But it was okay, Darren was playing the same game. He had the same dynamic with a lot of people lately. None knew of each other. They didn't have to, and they didn't ask either. He was no monster, though. Harry would tell that to himself constantly. That because no one had explicitly asked for exclusivity, it was implied they weren't obliged to it. The only one who did, what was her name again? Odella... no, that's not right... Ornella, maybe? He laughed dryly at himself. He'd become one of those guys that didn't even remember the names of all of his

partners. But he was no dougebag, when Ornella asked to be exclusive, he straight up told her no and then never bothered her again. They weren't on the same page anymore, so no more games. He wondered if that would ever happen with Darren too. There was not much time to think about this, because he was soon greeting the guy with a half hug and a gentle kiss just beside his lips. "You smell nice." Darren said, hands in his pockets and scarf almost over his mouth. "You just like the smell of tabacco." Harry smirked and put the unfinished cigarette down. "Let's get in, you're freezing." The night went exactly how Harry planned it. All his jokes were welcomed by Darren, and he let the young boy win at pull- he was cute when he bragged about his skills. But the best feeling was whenever Harry would approach Darren. A stroke of the lower back, a smirk from the other side of the table, a kiss when no one was near... Darren accepted any and everything Harry was willing to give him. The power high that it gave him to have someone be so devoted to him was indescribable. But the night was fully set and he was growing impatient. "Let's get out of here." He whispered to Darren's ear right before his turn. Darren had already started pulling Harry's bike for him when the phone on his pocket buzzed again. Harry walked alongside his date, though his eyes were on his phone. He had a lost call that he hadn't noticed while inside. The number wasn't saved to his phone anymore, but he hadn't managed to erase it from his own memory yet. "Oh, shit." He whispered. "I... Sorry, man, I have to go. There's a- um, it's a family thing." Harry was on his bike before his date could answer. He didn't even look at Darren's eyes before leaving. There was a sting of guilt building up, and maybe he'd feel disgusted by himself if it wasn't for the sheer adrenaline running through his veins. Maybe the alcohol had a bit to do with it too. This had only happened a few times before, and the outcome was always the same. Still, Harry couldn't keep himself from falling to his knees when it came to her. As he rode his bike as fast as he could go, a cynical smile crept on his lips. How ironic. Darren was probably feeling the same way about Harry just a few hours prior. Whenever Caro was in town, she stayed at her best friend's apartment- all the way on the other side of the city. So it was past midnight already when he got to the building. There was a party on the roof, maybe they could sneak in for more drinks. She had some catching up to do, as Harry was already tipsy. Still, he didn't have to check the phone to know which floor to go to and which door to knock. Just like everything else about Caro, he had it indefinitely memorized. 409, the doorknocker was a silver seagull. A very heavy, silver seagull. At first, Harry didn't feel it when his finger got caught in between the door and the seagull, but by the third time he knocked, it started changing colour. "Hm." He said to himself as he examined the swollen-red finger. He put it in his mouth and kept on knocking to the beat of the music coming from above. Why did they have the music so loud? Harry could barely hear his own thoughts, so the neighbours had to be furious about this noise. Carolina was probably waiting for Harry, who was already late due to how far he was when she texted him. "Fuck!" He said, taking his phone out of his pocket again. He hadn't answered. Dumb ass. "im herre" He sent the text before reading the ones Caro had sent before. One was a laughing emoji and the other was a voice note. There were people laughing on the background, and someone turned the music down a bit for Caro to speak into her phone. "I'm so sorry, ignore that, it was a dare." She half said, half laughed. Harry didn't understand, so he played it again. Again. Again. And again one more time. Was she talking about the lost call? or was it about her being in town? Had he really fallen for such a stupid trap? Harry fell to the floor, phone glued to his ear as the voice note played over and over again. His chest was about to

explode, face red and throat dry. He knocked on the door again, now with his fist. The inevitable tear fell down his cheek, though it was impossible to know if it was sadness or anger that caused it. "Oh, god." Someone said behind him. But when he turned around, the stairs were empty and someone on hills was running up the stairs. He got up and ran after them, but he was too intoxicated to keep up. He fell halfway up the stairs, having to crawl for a few steps before getting up. On the rooftop, there were too many people in heels to know which one had seen him. "Great." He sight. Might as well look around. He walked around the place, inhaling the cold air of the night and trying to calm down, make sense of what had just happened. He was about to light up his last cigarette when someone took it from him. She had long purple nails and her skin glowed under the moonlight. She smirked as the cigarette reached her mouth. He lit it up for her. "I didn't think you'd actually come." She said. Her smirk turned into a sincere smile. "You told me to." "Yes, but I also said you should ignore that." "Well I didn't." He took the cigarette from her fingers and smoked himself before speaking again. "Should I go?" He wanted to seem as cool with the situation as she appeared to be, hide the fact that he had just been played like a puppet for a fucking drinking game dare. "What happened to you finger?" She shouted, stepping closer to him. "I- I don't remember." Harry lied. There was still a bit of dignity to be salvaged. And there it was, but this time it was real. Her laugh, once again, drowned every thought on his mind. There was no music and no people around them anymore, it was just him and her, together again, laughing in the middle of the night. "You know I meant to call you, right?" Caro said, a hand tenderly rubbing his arm. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew it too. "I'm sure you did." He said. "I did!" She pushed him a little, both cracking a knowing smile. "I promise I did, it's just that-" "Shut the fuck up." He felt more stable now that he'd taken some air and the alcohol effect had cooled down. "It's okay, Caro. Let's just have fun tonight and see what happens." "Sounds fun." She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, the kiss lingering just a second too long. He instinctively put a hand on her hip, but she walked away swiftly after the kiss. The pain on his chest came back, and the little composure he had gained crumbled. She wasn't coming back to him. This time it was definitive, and it had been for a while now. But the worst realization that came to him that night, was how much power she had over him. How much hope, urge, love, anger and pain she could cause in just a matter of hours. She had him at her mercy, like a puppet she could toy with however she wanted. They were both the same kind of wicked, using others for validation, feasting on their adoration. But as much pain as it caused him to know he was at the other end of his own game, it also sparked joy to know he could provide that for her.

#idk how to add an audio file to an ask so the cover is posting in a bit #hope you like it!!!#asks #micha's 700 celebration!#thelasttimeyoueversawme

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beerecordings · 4 years

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Mythology AU - Chase is a Selkie, Marvin’s a star spirit, Jameson’s fae but likes to look like a little black dog, Henrik’s the seventh son of a seventh son, and Jackie is Jackie! See other pieces from this universe here and here.

Thanks for the prompt, Kit! This fic is not actual ego shipping but features what’s basically a love spell on one ego which needs to be broken. But no one tries to take advantage of anyone else and they all work together to help. This is the earliest point in the timeline I’ve written so far, with Chase meeting Henrik, Jackie, and Marvin! I hope you like it.

As a lil mythology debriefing, most Selkie who have their coats stolen in the stories have them stolen intentionally and are then either forced to marry the men who stole them or fall in love with and marry the men who stole them. Giving a Selkie their coat back releases them to either stay or go, but I wanted to explore what would happen if a Selkie had their coat given back to them but was still too love-drunk from having it stolen in the first place to be able to think clearly and get back in the ocean.

He’s nervous.

A lot of Henrik’s clients are. A lot of Henrik’s clients are nervous. A lot of Henrik’s clients, these days, aren’t human.

The seventh son of a seventh son can see us, they might tell each other, flitting between the branches of a tree or drifting with the waves of the water. He learned human medicine, but he’s quick. He’s quick. He’s learning and his luck is good.

His luck is very good. His mind, he likes to tell himself, is better.

(But the truth is that his luck is better than anyone’s and maybe if it hadn’t caused him so much grief and driven him away from everything he had ever known he would appreciate it better.)

He’s nervous then, yes, but Henrik can’t see the glamour of a fairy on his skin or the flickering color of a shape-shifter’s eye. There are no horns hiding in his hair, no hooves tucked away in his sneakers, no water streaming endlessly from his eyes. He does not speak in tongues or hover just a centimeter off the ground. He does not glow. He does not breathe like the cosmos are running through his lungs.

He just looks human.

But if you are the seventh son of a seventh son, you might catch, in the air, the same thing that Henrik did - a slight smell of salt and stone.

And a faint feeling that the man and his child are not human.

“How’re you now?” asks the man in a whisper, tucking the baby close to his chest and taking a step back from Henrik as he swung open the door to his run-down little clinic. Henrik stares back at him and then around at the alleyway, wondering if someone is following him, but there is nothing there but the man and the bundle in his arms.

“Good, and yourself?” answers Henrik politely, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s late, I’m about to close.”

“Sorry.” He tugs on the cap over his hair nervously, disturbing a single blond curl in the middle of his dark brown hair. “I thought the fever would go away, but it hasn’t. If I don’t get it checked out my ex will have me for sausage.”

“Mh. A baby?”

The man clears his throat and holds the infant out.

Henrik stares down at the baby. Up at the father. Down at the baby.

Now there is something slightly inhuman to them.

It’s in the eyes. He’s never seen eyes so dark and deep, like they were made for nothing but light to come in. With one, it’s an oddity. With the two of them...

It’s strange.

“The baby is human?” asks Henrik, in a voice that says he already knows the answer.

The man stares at Henrik, black eyes wide.

He’s nervous.

Henrik sighs and steps back from the door. “Come on in.”

“Thank you. Thank you. My ex would have killed me.”

The man darts in the door, heaving his backpack up on his shoulders and scurrying over to the examination table, where he takes one last glance at Henrik and then begins to unwrap the baby like a little Christmas present.

Baby shampoo and salt smell warm the chilly little clinic while the baby fusses unhappily at his father, reaching up to snag his finger and shove it into his soft, slobbery baby mouth for something to gnaw on. He has a little white onesie with different colors of fish patterned all over and a tiny breast pocket that says “I’m a real catch!”

Sometimes being supremely lucky is very nice, especially if it brings you cute babies to examine while you were in one of the slightly tired, bored, generally-unhappy-and-not-really-knowing-why moods you’ve been stuck in for some weeks. Henrik washes his hands at the sink and comes over to examine the baby.

“His name’s Hunter. I’m - ”

“Don’t tell me names,” Henrik cuts him off. “I don’t ask questions. You have money?”

“Yes, whatever you charge.”

“Dangerous offer.”

The man gives a weak chuckle.

Hunter gurgles angrily at Henrik’s hands roaming over his chubby body, kicking his feet in their booties and slurping on his father’s finger as a form of protest.

“Yes, his temperature is high,” Henrik agrees. “How long has he been like this?”

“Since yesterday. I just have him for the weekend and he’s been the grumpiest little sucker in the world. I have to take him back to my wife’s tonight. Sorry... my ex’s. She was my wife but now she isn’t, and so with the kids it’s kind of, uh. Well. Hard.”

“Don’t have to explain, I understand,” says Henrik mildly, listening to Hunter’s heart.

“Oh? You’re, uh, divorced? Or should I not ask questions either?”

Henrik raises an eyebrow at him, a small smile rising on his mouth. “I’ll excuse it this one time. We’re separated. But the child was much older.”

“Ah. Yeah. Messy split or was it, like, pretty clean?”

“It was a natural disaster,” answers Henrik wryly, and the man manages a full laugh this time, his stance relaxing a little.

He isn’t like the men from the gangs, staring in Henrik in silence as he works. He isn’t like the kids and adults who are running away from something and try to stay quiet despite the nervous confessions that keep falling from their mouths, looking for someone to confide in. He isn’t like the fairies who run their eyes up and down Henrik’s body, whispering to each other about how clever or how silly this human is or making snide jokes about him stinking of beer or bratwurst.

Henrik is glad. He thinks he needed a break from all of that. His work is his great love, but often it fuels his fury or, worse, breaks his heart.

There has been a melancholy in him lately. He does not know how to disperse it. No one would have noticed, because Jackie never can pick up on it, but Marvin said that his eyes had gone sad, whatever that means, and informed their roommate that Henrik needed cheering up. Since then he’s been hiding in his office more often than not - he can only be smothered in starboy kisses and served sympathy pasta so many times before he needs some space.

“Saw the game last night?” asks Henrik, noticing the father getting tense again.

“What game?”

“Well, my roommate said there was a game and he was very excited and mad and enthusiastic, which usually means it was worth watching.”

The man laughs. “Right. Yeah, football, wasn’t it? Good stuff, yeah. I saw the score. Didn’t watch it cause I got him here and the other one at home. Try to spend the whole weekend with them. Your roommate sounds like a character. He watches just football?”

“He’ll watch anything with a ball and some collisions,” says Henrik. “And he is certainly a character. How long have you lived among humans?”

The man’s head shoots up, his blond curl hanging in front of his eyes. “Hey, now!” he says. “That football question was a trap!”

Henrik winks at him and leans down to check the baby’s ears. “Fair play?”

“Fair play,” concedes the father, sitting back with an amused sort of irritation. “Since I was nineteen, if you must know.”

“So that’s, what, six years?”

“Eight.”

“And the baby?”

“Well, uh.” The man frowns and glances down at his son. “Well, he’s new, you see.”

Henrik bursts into laughter for the first time in days and fuck, that feels good.

“I meant how old is he!”

“Oh! Well, I - I didn’t know!”

He’s bright red, his freckles drowned out in blush. “I wasn’t sure what you meant, I don’t know what sort of babies you get in here - ”

“Hahaha! Not immortal ones!”

“Well, you say that, but I’ve met some weird creatures in my time!”

“Alright, that much I understand.”

“Maybe you thought he was a little spirit or something, I don’t know.”

“Aw, a little spirit baby.” Henrik hides his eyes and then pulls his hands away, catching Hunter’s attention with a game of peek-a-boo. “Are you a little god, Herr Baby? Are you a little spirit?”

“He’d be the god of spitting up carrots all over his dad.”

“Tom once walked up to me as I was sitting on the couch and when I asked him what was wrong, he immediately puked all over my slacks.”

The father throws back his head and laughs loud and wonderful, his shoulders shaking and her dark eyes a-glow. “Fuck’s sake. But then they’re worth it, aren’t they?”

He leans over Hunter to blow a blubber kiss into the fat of his stomach, but the child must be feeling unwell again, because he chooses this moment to begin wailing, his small face scrunched up with distress. The man is quick to try soothing him, rubbing at his hot, bumpy baby head and murmuring to him in Irish.

Truthfully, Henrik is grateful for the distraction. He shouldn’t have brought Tom up. Yes, they’re worth it. But sometimes they break your heart too.

“I can see why you were concerned,” he said. “His fever is quite high and has lasted a while. But I am wondering why you didn’t see a normal doctor? If you’re illegal, just tell me you couldn’t.”

“Ah, no, I could have,” admits the man, picking Hunter up and rocking him. “But I guess I don’t trust them. Or I’d prefer someone who knows... just, well, who knows, you know? We always used to see a doctor who was one of us, but now we’ve moved too far away. I didn’t know who to go to... I was told you had the Sight, that you would treat... people like us.”

“But I don’t know,” answers Henrik gently, pulling open his cabinets for a prescription. “You haven’t told me what you are.”

He looks up at Henrik. Down at the baby.

“We left everything we had known behind when we came to live with humans,” he says softly. “Since then I haven’t met another like me living among them. And I haven’t told anyone - not a soul - about what I really am.”

Curious. Curious. Only so many creatures would choose to make a split so deep. He must be able to pass as human almost perfectly. He knows he is not a werewolf, or he would need others of his kind to survive. He knows he is not demonic, or he couldn’t have passed through Marvin’s warding. He knows he is not a Pooka, because Henrik did not fear him, and Pooka do not love their sons, and Pooka do not speak as humans do, and a million other reasons, too, and yet the thought still crossed Henrik’s mind. Even when it is irrational, it always crosses his mind: what if? what if?

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” says Henrik, writing down Hunter’s temperature.

“I’m a little in the public eye, is the thing.”

“Oh-ho,” laughs Henrik, letting his eyes flick up to the ceiling for a second. “I got a celebrity in here.”

“I didn’t say that,” protests the father. “Come on, man. It would just be bad if anyone found out who would believe it. Some people don’t like people like me living with humans.”

Henrik puts his clipboard down and reaches out to touch his arm, meeting his gaze. “Look, ‘man,’ there’s really nothing to worry about. I get all kinds in here and I know how to keep the mouth shut when it should be. I would prefer to know. Some creatures can experience medical complications which would be misdiagnosed without understanding. But if you really cannot tell me, you can take the medication and go, just like if I were a human doctor.”

The man looks down at his child, patting along the baby’s stomach to soothe both Hunter and himself. “Okay, alright. Can I come back if any of the kids ever get in trouble again and I need a doctor?”

“Of course you can,” answers Henrik genially. “Especially since you can pay.”

He chuckles, stroking Hunter’s soft head. “Do you know who the Selkie are?”

Henrik stops short in the middle of preparing a syringe of medication.

“Take that as a yes,” says the man, sitting down at a visitor’s chair, his hands in his lap.

Henrik tries to go back to work as calmly as he can. “You’re something of a rarity, then.”

“There’s less and less of us every year,” he answers. “Most of us don’t live among humans, so we die as the ocean does.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Me and my family don’t live like that anymore, anyway. Safer on land.”

“What is it like?” asks Henrik, unable to deny his own curiosity. “To be a man one moment, and a seal the next.”

He smiles grimly, playing with the cap of his hat. “To be able to transform is incredible. You feel like you’re apart of something much bigger than you. And that ability, to swim like that, to smell like that, to see like that... well, it’s an experience. But the truth is that when you’re Selkie you’re never expected to do anything but live and die by the ocean. And I wanted something more than that, even if it meant leaving everything behind.”

“I’m going to give him some medicine.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.”

Henrik and the father coax the needleless syringe into Hunter’s mouth and convince him to swallow the medicine despite his fussy groaning and whimpering.

“Will that help?”

“Yes, I think so. Should reduce the fever. I’m going to prescribe you something to take with to help him recover more quickly, though I expect he’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, great,” breathes the Selkie, staring warmly down at Hunter, who sucks earnestly on his fist and wriggles his feet. “Thank you so much. I think my ex would have about killed me if I had brought him home with a fever and no trip to a doctor. I really didn’t know where else I would have gone.”

“It’s no worry,” answers Henrik. “But, if you were open to it, I might recommend bringing him down to the ocean for a while.”

The Selkie looks up, surprised.

“Whether or not you let him transform, it isn’t always good for creatures like you to be away from all of their people and their... natural habitats, you might say. If you don’t want to live among Selkie, I understand. But a Selkie baby is a Selkie baby. This part of his nature cannot be buried. Letting him play in the water might be good for him sometimes.”

The Selkie stares down at his baby, blinking.

“I don’t know,” he says uncertainly.

“Just something to think about,” replies Henrik levelly.

“Right,” sighs the Selkie, beginning to wrap Hunter back up again, but the suggestion seems to have left him uncertain and thoughtful, focused intently on his child. “Oh, uh, I gotta pay you. How much?”

“The medicine wasn’t expensive. Twenty-five pounds should cover it. But if you can give me more, it helps me keep the place running.”

The Selkie hands him a full fifty pounds. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, man. I don’t really trust human doctors with my kids.”

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. Tell me if his fever does not break. Here, my number. Don’t put me in your phone as anything suspicious.”

“Strange doctor in that backalley clinic on Lincoln, got it.”

Henrik smiles grimly at him. The Selkie grins back.

“Thanks for being cool, doc,” he says, touching his shoulder.

“I try.”

“Ha. Okay. Bye.”

“Hey,” says Henrik. “I was driven away from Germany a few years back. I left everything behind too - including, perhaps, people who needed me - but I had my reasons for going. And that doesn’t make me a bad person. Yes?”

The Selkie smiles softly at him, something small and grateful in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Yeah. We have our reasons.”

As he turns to leave, Henrik sees the thoughtfulness come over him again. It’s like he’s far away already. And for whatever reason, when he goes, Henrik himself feels that strange and quiet unhappiness return to his chest as the silence of the lonely clinic consumes him again.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later that he realizes the Selkie has left his backpack behind.

“Fuck!”

Henrik scoops it up and races out the door just in case he has the chance to catch the Selkie at the bus stop, but he and the baby are gone.

“Goddamn,” murmurs Henrik, walking back to his clinic. “At least he can come back for it. What does he have in here that’s so heavy anyway?”

It’s not really his business to look. In fact, it is his business to not ask questions and respect people’s privacy unless he thinks someone’s getting hurt by his silence. He really should not look in the Selkie’s bag.

But a sheen of smooth white through the almost-but-not-quite-entirely zipped-up backpack pauses him.

Henrik sits down in his office, staring.

He shouldn’t.

But he’s never met a Selkie before.

And if that’s what he thinks it is...

He’s pulling it out before he can doubt himself any longer.

“Wow,” he whispers. “Wow.”

The Selkie coat is beautiful. White and blond and brown patterns decorate the Selkie’s skin on a luxuriously soft coat. Henrik stands up and puts it on for a moment, marveling at the weight and warmth of it. He breathes in that same deep, salt and stone smell he caught on the Selkie when he first came in the door.

And if this were his skin, all he would have to do was walk down into the water of the ocean and then - transformation. He would be a seal.

“Incredible,” he murmurs to himself, taking the coat off again. “Truly.”

Being the seventh son of a seventh son is lucky, sure, but he thinks it might have been even luckier to be born as something as cool as that.

He sets the backpack down in the clinic. He doesn’t think much of it at the time.

Someone’s knocking on his clinic door.

“At one in the morning.” He tsks his tongue against his teeth. “Better not be those werewolf kids again, I swear.”

He gets up, straightening his coat.

“Who’s there?” He calls to the door.

“It’s - it’s - it’s - ” They seem to hardly be able to get the words out, breathless and stammering. “It’s the Selkie, fr-from earlier!”

“Oh, right.” Henrik unlocks and opens the door. “Did you come back for your - ”

Hands grab his lapels, marching him back towards the wall of the room as wild dark eyes bore intensely into him. The Selkie pants, his grip unwavering on his coat.

“Hey!” cries Henrik, a little alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“My coat,” whispers the Selkie, something desperate and terrified in his deep eyes. “Please, did I leave it here? Please, can’t I have it? I have to, I have to, I - ”

“Oh, alright,” sighs Henrik, finally shoving his hands off. “Yes, I suppose that must have been scary to lose. You seemed distracted.”

“You do have it,” sobs the Selkie. “Oh, fuck. Please, I’ll give you anything you want to have it back! I can pay you a lot of money!”

“Calm down, man.” Henrik shakes his head at him. “You are freaking the good doctor out. I don’t want your coat. You can have it back. Here.”

He steps over to the wall of the clinic and picks up the backpack, bringing it back towards the Selkie. He takes it from him with shaking hands and pulls the zipper open, finding the coat inside. Tears run down his face as he reaches in to trace his fingers over the smooth, familiar surface of his own skin.

“I’m sorry you were so freaked out,” says Henrik. “You should have called me.”

“Oh,” says the Selkie, in a very small voice. “I had your number, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

But he’s just staring down at his coat, flushed and weeping, silent.

“Hey,” says Henrik, touched by concern. “Hey. It’s okay. You’ve got it now. Everything’s okay, right?”

The Selkie stares at his coat. There is a change happening in his face, but Henrik doesn’t recognize the emotion there - just the fact that his face is going from very white to enthusiastically red.

“Can you say something?” asks Henrik. “You are beginning to worry me. Perhaps you have caught your son’s - ”

A pair of hands wrap around his wrists and then Henrik is thrown back against the wall and pushed into a passionate kiss. He yelps in surprise against the warm mouth pressing into his lips, too startled to push back. The Selkie draws away for a moment to breathe and grips at Henrik’s hair, staring at him with eyes that Henrik would think were glazed in fever if he could feel any heat coming off of him.

“Doc,” the Selkie half-groans, making embarrassment burn bright red against Henrik’s cheeks. “You gave it back to me.”

He leans forward to kiss him again and Henrik is glad to realize his brain is no longer crashing like a computer with a virus. Throwing a hand up to stop him, he yanks himself away from the Selkie, stumbling along the wall away from him.

“What the hell!” he cries, nearly tripping over one of the chairs. “You can’t just kiss someone!”

Distress floods down the Selkie’s face, his mouth flipping miserably and his eyes going wide with alarm. “Did I – I did something wrong?”

“You have to know it’s not normal to just start kissing someone.” Henrik scans those blank eyes a second time, beginning to be concerned. Is he having some kind of delusion? Is he drunk? “You said you’ve been living among humans since you were young. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” chokes the Selkie. “I – I know I’m a screw-up, I didn’t mean to make you angry, please don’t make me do anything – ”

“Make you do something?”

“My head feels wrong,” cries the Selkie, and when he curls in on himself he does it so suddenly Henrik thinks he is collapsing. He rushes forward to help him, alarmed. “I didn’t think it could be this strong!”

“What? What is it?” demands Henrik, taking his face between his hands and pulling his gaze up. “What did you take? What are you on?”

“My coat,” breathes the Selkie, his eyes going soft again as Henrik draws his gaze back to his face. “You gave it back to me...”

He surges forward for another kiss and Henrik yelps, shoving his face away. The Selkie makes a squawking noise that would be pretty damn funny in just about any other situation and goes crashing back onto his ass, distress tearing up his freckled face. He stares up at Henrik with enormous eyes dark as the universe, tears welling up in his thick eyelashes.

“Oh, no, oh, no,” he cries, grabbing his own shoulders. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. Please don’t make me do anything. I can be good for you. I want to.”

This is officially too much. Something is wrong, and if Henrik’s luck holds - and it always does - the sense he’s getting that this is because of some magical bullshit will ring true.

“You’re not on drugs, are you?” he asks. “Or drunk. This is something else.”

The Selkie clutches the soft fur of his coat to his chest and sobs, rocking himself back and forth on the floor of the clinic. “Please, I have children, I only just recently got divorced, I don’t want to do anything...”

“You... you don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t make you. Calm down.”

Henrik sinks slowly down to the floor in front of him, giving him some space and trying to look non-threatening, his hands held gently out in front of him. He lets out a shaky sigh, still feeling unnerved. “Just, uh. Don’t try to kiss me again,” he laughs nervously.

“You look so perfect right now, though,” cries the Selkie, hiding his face from him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this attracted to a person, not even Stacy. I thought this was just a myth. I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

Henrik’s face flames with embarrassment. He tugs at his collar, looking anywhere but at the Selkie, trying to think of anything to say.

“Look - just - stay here for a second. I’m going to give my friends a quick call. They’ll help us figure this out, okay?”

“They won’t hurt me either, will they?”

“Hurt you? No, no, never. They like to help people like you.”

“Cause I’m vulnerable right now, man, I’m - ” The Selkie’s voice shatters and he shakes, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. “I think I’d do anything you asked me to.”

“I’ll just give them a quick call. They’re very trustworthy. They saved me too, when I was vulnerable. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” he says in a small voice.

Henrik slips into his office on feet that are tingling as though he’d just looked off the side of a very tall building. He’s pulling the door tightly shut and yanking out his phone to find Jackie’s number before he’s even given himself a second to breathe, all but slamming the phone to his ear and collapsing into his rolling chair.

“Hullo?”

“Jackie!” he yelps, squeezing the phone to his face. “Hilf mir!”

He knows Jackie has leapt up because he hears him swear as he slams his knee into the coffee table like he always does and, subsequently, Marvin’s laughter in the background. “Okay, I’m coming, I’m coming! What’s wrong, are you hurt? Marv, get up, let’s go!”

“No, no, it’s not that. There’s a Selkie here and I think he’s been cursed to fall in love with me! Can I bring him to the house?”

There’s a long pause on the other end.

Then Jackie is laughing at him.

“Hey!” shrieks Henrik, spinning around in his chair, his anxious feet pedaling him around and around. “It’s not funny!”

“Marv, some guy is hitting on Schneep and his dumb ace ass doesn’t know how to handle it, hahaha.”

“Jackie!”

“You’re so funny, Schneep, I bet you’re red as a tomato.”

“Shut up! Jackie - well, maybe I’m red, but listen! Something’s really, really wrong with him. For real, I mean. He keeps saying how into me he is but he’s terrified of me at the same time - shaking and holding himself. He keeps talking about his coat. I think something’s really wrong.”

There’s a pause on Jackie’s end as Marvin and Jackie confer. A moment later, the phone is passed to Marvin.

“Hi, rabbit’s foot. Is the Selkie hurt?”

“I don’t think so. Just acting really weird.”

“Best be gentle with him, Henrik. Endangered species.”

“I know. I’ve never met one before. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Most Selkie are very social. They live in big clans with normal seals mixed in and many don’t mix with humans anymore. I’ve been to a couple families and they’re the friendliest, most open you’ve ever met. Maybe he just doesn’t understand how to flirt with you?”

“No, Marv, this isn’t that. He’s lived with humans for years. And even if he hadn’t... something’s wrong. Are love potions real?”

“Uh, not sure! Jackie? He doesn’t know either. Okay, clover, better bring him back to the house.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll be home in fifteen, alright?”

“Henrik, if he tries to touch you and you don’t want him to, use force, alright? Even if he’s cursed he doesn’t get to take advantage of you.”

“Right.” Henrik feels some of the red drain from his face. “Yes. No one takes anything from me I don’t want to give anymore.”

“Love you!” says Marvin cheerily. “See you soon! Humans are so funny when they blush. Like, that’s not where all that blood’s supposed to be, silly! I - ”

Henrik hangs up on him before he can really get to ranting. He puts his phone down on his lap and takes a deep breath. He gets up. He can do this.

He opens his door and comes face-to-face with the Selkie.

“Sorry!” he squeaks, backing away from Henrik and darting back towards the clinic. “I got nervous when I couldn’t see you, I’m sorry.”

He’s all wrapped up in his coat, his soft brown hair curling out of a fluffy hood, his eyes huge and dark in its shadows and his arms wrapping it around himself like a blanket. Henrik’s discomfort is briefly halted by his ravenous curiosity.

“You are wearing the coat, but are not a seal?”

“Oh, no.” He glances down at himself. “I have to be in living water.”

“How biblical.”

“Is it?”

“Sure. Jeremiah. Zechariah.”

“I just mean moving water, I suppose. We call it living. Salt water, preferably. But I haven’t been in that for a long while.”

“The ocean is so close. You don’t swim?”

The Selkie shakes his head, staring down at the floor, and something hot and aching flashes through his ink eyes. “Not for me.”

Henrik purses his mouth, looking at him. He cuts a miserable image, shaking and wrapped up in his furs, his face red and scared, but damn if he doesn’t look sweet too. Henrik sighs and reaches out a hand.

“Let me take you to my friends,” he says. “They’ll be able to help.”

The Selkie looks up in astonishment, mouth parting. Tentatively, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Henrik’s. The touch seems to soothe him, though his eyes water.

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure this out together, alright?”

“Wow,” croaks the Selkie, his voice breaking. “You’re so nice. Wow. I’m lucky it was someone like you, Doctor.”

The raw admiration makes Henrik fumble with his keys as he locks the door to the clinic behind him, pulling the Selkie along with him.

“It’s Schneep,” he says, leading him towards the bus stop.

“What?”

“My name. Everyone calls me Schneep. Henrik if you really want to get my attention.”

The Selkie stares across at him, turning the name over in his head. “Henrik... wow.”

“Please, don’t sound so in awe of me. This is terribly strange.”

“I’m sorry this is happening,” says the Selkie, turning away again. The moonlight makes his coat glow sleek and shining in the night. “Guess in the storybooks I’m meant to be a girl anyway.”

“I’m not much interested either way, thank you. What’s your name?”

His pale mouth parts. His dark eyes flicker. He stares out at the asphalt, gripping Henrik’s hand tightly in his own.

“Just call me Chase,” he says. “The rest doesn’t much matter.”

They wait for the bus in silence, questions waiting in the air between them. When they get on the bus, Chase puts his head down on Henrik’s shoulder, and Henrik does not stop him.

That’s all for now but I’ll write more if I feel like it :) basically this turned into an introduction for how they met. The rest of the story would be Chase and Henrik both getting along really well and Henrik protecting him and taking care of him while he’s in this sort of dazed state. Ultimately, Stacy would tell them the attraction was supposed to wear off days ago. That makes Chase realize that he isn’t romantically attracted to Henrik anymore - he’s just been really lonely and feels like he’s part of a family again around Henrik and Jackie and Marvin and he didn’t want to leave them. He thought he was just feeling that way because Henrik stole his coat accidentally. Henrik confesses he likes being around Chase a lot too.

#mythology au #selkie chase #bee writes

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